Someday people will look back on this post and maybe forget that it was written during a time of stay-at-home orders and self-isolation and quarantine. As unlikely as that future amnesia seems right now, let me just put in writing that this was posted in the spring of 2020 when the world of dystopian fiction came to life for all of us, to some degree, in the form of a novel coronavirus (COVID-19). So we all stayed home for a couple of months to prevent its spread and keep our healthcare systems working for those who did get sick. It was scary and confusing and strange and also kind of hopeful, in that so many people are doing the right thing not just for themselves, but for their communities. At this moment we’re still living some form of restricted-movement existence, which has been going on for about a month. Working at home and keeping gatherings under 10 people at first, but now staying at home pretty much all the time, only going out for essentials and even then, with the most recent guidance, covering our faces with homemade masks and staying 6 feet away from anyone.
For me, this time has coincided with the end of a remote-working contract, so theoretically, I should be in full-on “reading where” mode right now – traveling in real life as much as in my head.
Unfortunately, traveling is not going to be a thing for awhile. And pandemic reading has been kind of weird for me, too. I’m still reading every day and have managed to finish a few books each week, but it doesn’t feel typical. I have been reading because the act of reading brings me peace, certainly. At times, I can fully escape in the story and plug along as though it’s 2019 and I haven’t a care in the world except managing my TBR. At others, though, my mind wanders and I’m performing the act of reading while zoning out and skimming a lot. And in a few occasions, I find myself becoming hyper-focused on the words and the craft and what the words mean to me. I know; there are definitely worse problems to have in the current atmosphere. And honestly, a couple of books from the last month’s reading stand out for me as those that are “getting me through.”
The Splendid and the Vile by Erik Larson was a focused, slow read, but not because it’s not compelling; it so is. Rather, this nonfiction account of Churchill and London during the Blitz was ripe with so many opportunities for comparisons, highlighting the extremes people have endured in other times to protect and save their communities and their way of life, and what they did to help and comfort each other. During the Battle of Britain, the threat of nightly bombing raids by the Luftwaffe lasted at least six months and ultimately resulted in more than 23,000 civilian deaths. Buildings and landmarks were severely damaged or destroyed, and rationing of food items (like butter, meat, and eggs) took their own toll on morale. The fear and uncertainty people faced had to be brutal. With that perspective, it’s hard to be remotely whiny in this situation when all I have to do to play my part is #stayhome.
At the same time, I’m sure I’m not the only one who is feeling frustrated they can’t do more than that to make a difference. I am trying to help in other ways, where I can – staying connected to far-flung family, shopping local and small businesses whenever I can. I think keeping the right attitude is huge for me, and I know it’s not easy for everyone to do. To those of you who are struggling, my advice: Trust that you’re doing the right thing, and you’re doing a great job. Stay out of the news and your own heads as much as you can. Neither hourly headlines nor frequent mental rehashing of them will benefit anyone. You know what to do, and you know what you can control and what you can’t, so focus on the former because #WeGotThis.
To those who are out there doing the real and selfless heroics – by serving, providing, healing, delivering, caring for, and watching over – our deepest, heartfelt thanks. We will be sending good thoughts and positive energy your way. We won’t forget your work or its impact, and we will one day be reading about your splendid valor – count on it.
In the meantime, we should all be reading whatever gets us through. A couple of weeks ago, I was asked what my go-to comfort book is, something I re-read in trying times. I surprised myself when I answered with no hesitation, mainly because I’m not much of a re-reader. It might also be surprising because without thinking about it, I was revisiting the book at that very moment. The book I chose is not a classic, nor is it deep or literary. For me, though, The Martian by Andy Weir is a fantastic book to revisit in difficult times.
Not only is it a ridiculously fun story, but it is also a celebration of what mankind can imagine, what smart people can solve when they work together across borders of all kinds, what is achievable with ingenuity and grit, and what it means to be part of the human community.
At the end of the book, the main character muses about why so many people bothered to work so hard and spend billions to save one dorky botanist. His conclusion: helping others who need us is what humans do.
Mr. Rogers reminded us in scary times to “look for the helpers,” and I love this advice, especially for kids. We cynical, jaded, anxious adults should certainly remember that, and take some time to remind ourselves of the limitless possibilities of human resilience and compassion when faced with tough challenges: Take care of yourself and whomever you can. Find a way to be a helper, even if it just means staying home.
Be kind to yourself. Stay home, but wander and travel through books. Keep calm, and read on, my friends. We got this.
What wise words and warm sentiments. Thank you for doing what you do well. It will help others to do all they can to be strong in this stressful time.