Still Life with Butt Crack

Still Life with Butt Crack, by Louise Penny

Yes, you just know this is going to be a tour-de-force of sensitivity and literary excellence.  I'm sure my fellow Lipstickettes are glowing with pride.  Oh dear.  

I was prompted to write this entry because my birthday was a few weeks ago - 53 - and my older brother, Rob, whom I spent much of my youth trying to impress, sent me a card with the picture of a man mooning.  It declared:  Still Life with Butt Crack.

My first book was called Still Life.  I don't yet intend to call one Butt Crack, but in terms of my goal to impress my brother I'd have to say:  Mission Accomplished!  

This actually got me thinking about family.  And their role in my books.  And, more specifically, their role in my life as a writer.  The wife of one of our Prime Ministers, Mrs. Pearson, once declared that behind every successful man there stood a surprised woman.  

I'd have to say that behind me is a very long line of very surprised relatives.  There was absolutely no indication from my early life that I'd turn into a writer.  Except that I loved to read.  But I was an immensely lazy child and not considered the brightest bulb in the chandelier.  I have to admit, it's not that they got it wrong and secretly I was very smart, inquisitive, sensitive.  In fact, from what I remembered I was self absorbed and mostly interested in pudding.  

With one exception.  I adored my maternal grandfather.  He used to take me, and me alone, for long walks through the nearby park.  He smelled of sandalwood and felt like flannel, and loved poetry.  He'd take my hand and as we walked he'd recite poetry.

'Pleasures are like poppies spread,' he'd say, in his deep, soft British accent.  'You seize the flower the bloom is shed...'

Over and over he'd repeat them, and for reasons that are inexplicable, I was captivated.  

'Breathes there a man with soul so dead,' he'd say, as we walked around the gardens.  'Who never to himself hath said.  This is my home, my native land...'

I was the dull child, the quiet one.  But Papa would come up with little schemes, where over dinner he'd say something like, 'It's sure lovely to be in your home.'

And that would be my cue to say, 'Yes, but Papa, breathes there a man with soul so dead...' I'd recite the entire poem, at the age of 8, as though I'd written it.  Looking all the time into his amused blue eyes.  And when I'd finish I'd look at my astonished brothers and parents.

Then Papa and I would go back to eating.  It was the highlight of a life that otherwise revolved around Batman and The Partridge Family.  And banana pudding.

From that day to this I memorize poetry, and when I take Trudy for a walk, or stroll all by myself I often repeat them.  And think of Papa, now long dead.  But kept in verse, known by heart.

My mother also payed a huge role in my writing life.  She read to us all, and made sure there were always books all over the house.  Recently the marvelous Lesa Holstein sent me poem.  Which I memorized, of course.  Here're the final lines:

    Richer than me you will never be,

    I had a mother who read to me.

How beautiful, and simple, and true.  But she did more than that.  She introduced me to mysteries, and specifically Agatha Christie.  It was a love match from the first word, and has inspired all my books.  

My mother and I didn't always have the easiest relationship, like many mothers and daughters.  But we could talk about books.  It was our common ground, the place where two women retreated from mutual hurts, where hard feelings softened.  

'What're you reading?' was our white flag.  A step back, a truce called.  A passion shared.  

My mother died before my first book was published, even written, even started.  As did my father and grandfather.  But they're on every page in every book.  They're in every characters, and every line of poetry.  

And I'm even now fashioning a character inspired by Rob.  So that he - or at least a part of his anatomy - will live forever.

Comments

[Margaret]

Phyllis McGinley called memorized poetry "a jewel in one's pocket." I've always been grateful for the teachers that made us memorize certain poems. Most of the poems were the old warhorses ("In Flanders Field the poppies blow..." and "Beneath the spreading chestnut tree, the village smithy stands. . ."), but that led to memorizing whole passages on my own. And yes, it is a jewel. Thanks for reminding me of that, Louise.

[Harley]

Oh, Louise, this is so beautiful. And you set me up! A title like that, and then the loveliest of blogs.

I carry poems in my wallet, and when I travel, in my suitcase, have poems taped all over my kitchen cupboards, have a poem file in my file cabinet. And there are poems (although more often, snippets of poems) in my head. I realize there are many people who don't care about poems, but when I find a fellow poetry lover, I'm in heaven. And now I'm ordering your book.

[Harley]

p.s. we're the same age. It's more fun than I thought it would be.

[Tom]

"So . . . part of his anatomy - will live forever."

This has vampiric overtones I'd rather not consider, Louise.

[mary alice at mystery lovers bookshop]

Louise, such a lovely message that I think many authors do not even realize with their delivery.

Welcome and we hope to celebrate your US release in Pittsburgh........thought I await further orders!!!

[Laraine]

Louise, this brought to mind an incident from last year. My landlady, neighbor and friend went through a bit of a rough patch shortly after celebrating her 101st birthday. Frustrated by some health limitations, she was feeling depressed, and I was a little concerned that she might be declining a bit from her usual spirited self.
But, when I stopped in to say hello one day, I knew all would be well. As she sat at the kitchen table, she had a long poem at hand, and was memorizing a new stanza of it. She had grown up with poetry, and had a friend and mentor who was a classically-educated Irishman with poetry in his soul and an amazing array of epic poems in his memory--I had the pleasure one day of joining her in the audience as her friend commanded the stage with no notes, no reminders, and recited long, long poems from heart. Very cool.

I haven't checked to see what she has memorized most recently. Should do that soon.

[Molly Weston]

Louise, great post! May I used the quote about your mother and Agatha Christie in an article about Dame Agatha?

Molly Weston, Editor, inSinC

[nancy martin]

I don't remember my mother reading to me, but she pushed books on me to read for myself early on. (Mary Stewart! Phyllis Whitney!) And I read & write msyteries thanks to her, too. Just last night, she helped me brainstorm on the phone.

As for poetry, what sticks most firmly in my head is the dreary stuff my clinically depressed high school teacher requested us to memorize. "Water, water everywhere, and not a drop to drink . . . "

Great post!

[judy merrill larsen]

This is lovely, Louise--from one poetry lover/memorizer to another. One of my favorite side effects (if that's what to call it) of a life of reading and memorizing poetry is seeing or hearing about something and having a line of poetry spring to mind.

[Leslie]

We read out loud a lot here. Back when we were first building the house and did not have any electricity we would read by lamplight at night. My husband was reading Lord of the Rings to the older two and Little House books to the younger. It soon morphed into Little Sauron in the Big Tower. Every Harry Potter was read out loud. And all of Narnia. One of the memorable was when he read Kon Tiki out loud and my son, then in fifth grade went to school to tell everyone how to make a shrunken head.
The older ones feel the younger are missing so much now that we have electricity and are not so reliant on reading out loud for entertainment. I feel that way to sometimes. Poetry is the balm that heals my soul and feeds my spirit. I could not survive a day without it.
Thanks for the wonderful blog.

[Kathy Sweeney]

I don't know many poems that aren't actually limericks.

Just kidding - I've read lots of poems - but for some reason, they are not as easy to remember as limericks.

Happy Friday!

[Alan P.]

The princesses love being read to and I love reading to them. Their tastes in poetry run more to Shel Silverstien than the classics, but that is ok. I have started reading them "The space child's mother goose" many of which I have memorized.

In high school my Russian teacher had us memorize Russian poetry and fairy tales. She thought one day we may need it when we met the Red Army in battle. She thought we might lay down our rifles and read poetry to each other.

Going to a flight school college, there were as many copies of "High Flight" on dorm room walls as Farah Fawcet posters.

[Hank Phillippi Ryan]

Wonderful, Louise!

It was my Gramma Minnie who introduced me to Agatha Christie. I'd sit in her living room, curled up on the couch, and devour them. Gramma taught me how to type, too, on an old Underwood. So there may be some connection...or maybe she knew what was destined to be. She was like that.

And poetry, oh. My father was in the Battle of the Bulge. At age 18 or so. He told me he carried a paperback Untermeyer anthology of poems with him through the whole war. Why? I asked him. "To remind me that there's beauty in the world" he said.

Happy birthday, youngster.

[Laura (in PA)]

"He smelled of sandalwood and felt like flannel..." See, now this is why I love your writing.

I can still remember a bit of poetry I had to learn in High School, including the "To Be Or Not To Be" Soliloquy from Hamlet. We all had to recite it from memory in front of the class.

I don't read much poetry anymore. I need to rectify that.

And Louise, if you were a Partridge Family fan, you'll want to know I got an email announcing a show at a local theatre - featuring David Cassidy and Danny Bonaduce. I have no clue what Danny is going to do - I don't believe he even sang on the show. Maybe he still has his tambourine. If you'd like me to score you tickets, let me know. :)

[Laraine]

Billy Collins advocates iPoems:
http://marketplace.publicradio.org/display/web/2010/07/23/am-kindle-isnt-kind-to-poetry/

He makes a funny comment about how poetry is perfect for short attention spans.

Sadly, I haven't retained the ability or habit of memorization since my few successes in high school. So, fragments float through my mind, but no sagas.

[Nancy Pickard]

Lovely post, Louise. Thank you.

My mom swears I'm a mystery writer because she read so many Agatha Christies when she was pregnant with me.

I adore Billy Collins. That is all.

[Holly Gault]

I'm not great at memorization of poetry and, yet, "I must go down to the sea again," is burned into my memory. I think it brought all my senses to it -- I could see, smell, taste, touch and hear the whole scene.

AA Milne's "Now We Are Six" (and another that I can't remember the title) have left fragments of James James Morrison Morrison (although, the Chad Mitchell Trio had a lot to do for my memorizing that one), Whatever is the matter with Mary Jane, and others.

[marie]

Such lovely writing, Louise. You are really special.
In school we studied Joyce Kilmer's "Trees".
Later at a school recital I sang the song "Trees".
"In Flanders Fields" is also in my memory.
Books were in my possession early in life and included Grimm's Fairy Tales.
Later Nancy Drew and The Hardy Boys were among my treasured books.

[Hank Phillippi Ryan]

Yes, Holly! I got James James from Chad MItchell, too. (I loved it..) And Poe's "The Bells"--from the Kingston Trio, maybe?

[storyteller Mary]

She thought we might lay down our rifles and read poetry to each other. Alan, I love that. Dan Keding's stories "Two Warriors" ends, "you can't hate someone once you know his stories."
I memorized Portia's "Quality of Mercy" speech in high school -- a good one to remember as a teacher.
Thanks, Louise, for a thoughtful post. Love your brother's sense of humor!!

[Tina]

With a title like that, who knew I would get teary eyed?

You're Grandpa sounded like a wonderful person to grow up with.

[marie]

"Trees" never left my mind.
A foolish rivalry (mostly in my mind) became memorable when my music teacher decided that I would sing "Trees" by Joyce Kilmer
I had just watched the movie "Showboat" and ran around the house squawking the song "Make Believe".
The movie star Kathryn Grayson with her exquisite voice sang the lead in the movie.
When the Sister announced that my rival would be singing "Make Believe" at a recital I was devastated.
I stood on stage, feeling like a sapling and sang at the top of my voice.
Of course, my pride would not reveal my disappointment at the song choice and my rival sang "Make Believe" in a glorious voice.

[Becky Hutchison]

What a beautiful blog, Louise. And what special parents and grandparents! I haven't read much poetry, but I've been a huge reader since I could first put "Sit, Spot, Sit!" together in my brain. And I read all kinds of books, even Gone with the Wind one weekend the summer before 5th grade.

What I wouldn't give to have had all the reading choices teenagers have now. I ran through all the biographies and mysteries in our school library and would have read many more if they had been available.

I remember "Twas the 18th of April, '75. Hardly a man is now alive, who remembers that famous day and year, of the midnight ride of Paul Revere." It's burned into my brain. We had to memorize the whole poem and recite it for a grade...I forget which year in junior high English. But we had to listen to every student recite the whole poem. So I must have heard it repeated about 30 times in three days. Repetition is definitely a good teaching tool.

[lil Gluckstern]

How lovely and moving, Louise. It brought tears to my eyes because I have the same situation with my daughter, and you said it so well. My mom used to walk to the library with me when I was four. In NYC, we walked the ten blocks with our green net bag, and books lived forever in my house. Today, I don't have room for too many more, but I am surrounded by the anticipation of pleasure. I looked up the poem, and found it so lovely as well.
As usual, you produce something with richness for the soul--with some spice of course!

[Louise Penny]

Hi all - I just love your comments - and hearing about the poetry you carrying with you - and why. And like others, I loved Alan's comment about his teacher. Imagine her fear for her young charges? She couldn't give them bullets but she believed words were better. Wow.

And Molly - yes, please do use whatever you like.

AA Milne - oh, vespers. I'm going to spend the rest of the afternoon looking up the poems you've all mentioned. What a treasure you've given me.

And Mary Alice - I'll get there in late sept if I have to crawl! I'm sure we'll work something out! Thank you, ma belle.

[Lora Wentzel]

I have to agree with everyone, Louise. What a great "Bait and Switch" you pulled, with that vaguely vulgar title, then to the lovely blog you provided! I too, have my mother and my grandmothers to thank for my love of reading. Both maternal and paternal grandmothers loved Gothic, Agatha Christie, John D. MacDonald, etc, and my mother and I swapped books growing up as well. To the point that, one day I had come to school with a Harold Robinson book in 5th grade, and the school called my mother to let her know what I was reading. She told them, "Oh well, tell her to ask her questions at home," and never censored my reading to my eternal gratitude.

My mother and I are now in different states, and still swap books. I have just recently discovered your books, Louise, and kept them for her, when she came to visit. I told her she couldn't have them until she left because she was here to play with the grandkids, and if I gave her your series...she wouldn't have been able to put them down. :) Looking forward to seeing the character inspired by Rob...

[Mary Lynn]

AH, POETRY! Poetry shared aloud. Poetry memorized, required by teachers or for the sheer joy of always having it with you. I love poetry; I inherited that love from generations of ancestors. I could (but won’t) hijack this blog into next week with tales of poetic significance in my life. I shall tell but one.

Becky started the poem and the next stanza says:

He said to his friend, "If the British march
By land or sea from the town to-night,
Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry arch
Of the North Church tower as a signal light,--
One if by land, and two if by sea;
And I on the opposite shore will be,

Well, I recently saw, written across a Virgin Atlantic airplane (a British airline)

“three if by air”.

I laughed aloud and someone asked why. I indicated the line on the ‘air ship’ and they looked puzzled. What else could I do but declaim the first stanzas?

I love this blog, Louise, thank you.

[Louise Penny]

Lora, how wonderful to continue the long poetic line. And thanks for introducing your mother to my books. I felt a fizz in my throat, thinking of that. How kind you are.

And Mary Lynn - hilarious story! I love it.

[Brunonia Barry]

Louise,
This is so beautiful. The long walks and the recitations reminded me of my own grandfather who was my writing mentor. I miss him still, but I love the way you choose to remember your loved ones: every character, every book, every line of poetry. Thank you for that.

Brunonia Barry

[peach]

I don't remember being read to by my mother, but she tells me she read to us nightly when we were little. I think it must have stopped by the time I entered first grade, but memory is full of holes as I was reminded a couple of hours ago. I have no memory at all of writing letters to my parents and brothers while I was away at college, but my daughter found my mother's archive of my letters while looking for old family photos for an upcoming reunion.

I vividly remember when the need to read fiction became an obsession. 1966 was the year and I was in fourth grade. My teacher kept a small library of books on the shelves at the back of the room and we were allowed to choose one book at a time. I forgot to mention there were three grades in one room and lots of down time for us. Anyhow I was bored and picked out my first real book, Charlotte's Web. I've never looked back.

[storyteller Mary]

The Post-Dispatch, back in the good old days, serialized Charlotte's Web in the paper. How I looked forward to each new chapter!!

[Wholesale Handbags]

So interesting it is, I like it !