Social Intelligence by Daniel Goleman, Bantam (2006)

In the recent past, I read an essay, probably from a Best Zen Writing book, which included an excerpt from Social Intelligence. I was so impressed that I put this book on my to-be-read list. So in May of 2008, I got around to getting a copy. Wow, I was knocked out.

Goleman explores an emerging new science with startling implications for our interpersonal world. Studying our reactions to others and theirs to us, reveals a far-reaching biological impact:

Good Relationships=Positive impact on physical health

Bad Relationships=Poison to our bodies

Daniel Goleman has made me think about my relationships which exist solely through computer/Internet interaction and how this type of bonding can change how we feel and interact. Also, his sections on raising healthy-minded children and preserving healthy family relationships seem right on target to me. I wish I had this book 30 years ago when my first child was born.

Even more so, I enjoyed the sections on the dark side of narcissism and the inspiring techniques Goleman suggests for cultivating rewarding work relations. I also enjoyed reflecting on his presentation of sexual attraction and how we detect and feel honesty in our human interaction physically and virtually.

It’s hard to think anyone could not benefit greatly from reading this book. In fact, I recommend this book to anyone; it would be a positive use of your time.

Hey. My name is Emily Grossenbacher and I’m new here at Lemuria. I come to Lemuria from Yellow Dog Books, the now closed bookstore in Madison, MS. I’m a senior English major at Mississippi and working here is like being in a toy store.

Recently, I finished On Chesil Beach by Ian McEwan. (click here for a first edition) Much like his other works, On Chesil Beach focuses on a couple and how minor infractions can forever change the dynamics of the relationship. McEwan almost preaches at his audience in this novel, writing about how patience, acceptance, and forgiveness are necessities in the beginning stages of a relationship.

McEwan knows how to pull at his audiences’ heartstrings, and he once again creates a novel full of regret and heartbreak that makes the audience want to rewrite the ending. At 200 pages its a good short read for anyone with a busy schedule.

Well, I’ll be back soon. Keep reading.

Emily

There are certain books that sit on my shelf for the sole purpose of fond remeniscence. Sure, I may read them again at a later or very distant later time. But really they are there to serve as a snapshot of the wonderful time I spent reading through it’s pages. I had a moment today where I passed by my very valueless copy of A Death in the Family written by James Agee. (click here)

Yes, It would be great to have a crisp, first edition of this truly amazing novel but because I spent time pouring over this particular copy I want to keep it forever. Just looking at it’s cover makes me want to jump back into it and reread certain sections. Especially the opening essay entitled Knoxville: Summer, 1915 which is absolutely lovely and transports me to the very place Agee writes about. This is probably not too far of a stretch because I spent several years living just down the street from the place that he describes. So even though I am, if only slightly, biased I think that I could share the same visceral experience that his writing brings with someone who has never known this town.

This is one of the saddest novels I have ever read. It is full of raw, pure emotion from the perspectives of such a thoughtful variety of characters. It is unusual to read narrative from a young child that is believable but Agee does a tremendous job doing just that. It is the type of prose that one senses can only come from personal experience.

I highly recommend A Death in the Family and wonder if there are others out there who cherish their copy of this fine classic novel as much as I do.

We are talking now of summer evenings in Knoxville, Tennessee, in the time that I lived there so successfully disguised to myself as a child…

The Zen Poetry of Ryokan

translated by John Stevens

“Who says my poems are poems?

my poems are not poems.

After you know my poems are not poems,

Then we can begin to discuss poetry!”

Ryokan has said.

Recently, being provoked by conversation with Yvonne, our childrens expert and a poetry fan, I decided to reread Ryokan.

Ryokan was born in Japan around 1758 and threw himself into the Katsura River committing suicide in 1795. This hermit monk was beloved for his poetry and his character. His poetry being deceptively simple celebrating nature and a natural life.

I love reading Ryokan’s poems. Emotion, solitude, raindrops, moonlight, blooming flowers, and children: Along with many other wonderful images to think about, are clearly expressed causing much inter-reflection for the reader.

If you think you are intimidated by reading poetry and don’t think its fun with an added value, try Ryokan. It’s true pleasure, then when you finish, pick up another favorite, Ikkyu, and continue the fun.

“It is not that I do not wish

to associate with men,

But living alone I have he better way.”

Ryokan — autograph lines on a self portrait sketch.

In May of this year I had the good fortune of getting an early reading galley of The Forever War. I was taken back by its reality- “eyes on the ground”.

The Forever War is non-judgmental. It is journalism brought forth from the eyes and mind of a soul I could believe. I felt what Dexter saw and I could see what he felt for others in their situation. Not since Dispatches and Loyd’s My War Gone By has war journalism struck me so powerfully.

Another pal Robert Stone wrote a brilliant front page New York Times essay about war journalism praising Dexter’s work and stating in an explaining way Forever War’s place in American war literary history.