Supremely Tiny Acts: A Memoir of a Day: 21st Century Essays
Autor Sonya Huberen Limba Engleză Paperback – 16 oct 2021 – vârsta ani
“I think we have to get to the real, to catch the facts we have, to hold on to what we see. . . .in this time where lies are currency,” Sonya Huber writes in her book-length essay Supremely Tiny Acts: A Memoir of a Day. On the theory that naming the truths of quotidian experience can counter the dangerous power of lies, she carefully recounts two anxiety-fueled days one fall. On the first, she is arrested as part of a climate protest in Times Square. On the other, she must make it to her court appearance while also finding time to take her son to get his learner's permit. Paying equal attention to minor details, passing thoughts, and larger political concerns around activism and parenting in the Trump-era United States, Huber asks: How can one simultaneously be a good mother, a good worker, and a good citizen? As she reflects on the meaning of protest and on whiteness and other forms of privilege within political activism, Huber offers a wry, self-aware, and stirring testament to the everyday as a seedbed for meaningful change.
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Specificații
ISBN-13: 9780814258040
ISBN-10: 0814258042
Pagini: 192
Dimensiuni: 140 x 216 x 23 mm
Greutate: 0.23 kg
Ediția:First Edition, First Edition, Paperback original
Editura: Ohio State University Press
Colecția Mad Creek Books
Seria 21st Century Essays
ISBN-10: 0814258042
Pagini: 192
Dimensiuni: 140 x 216 x 23 mm
Greutate: 0.23 kg
Ediția:First Edition, First Edition, Paperback original
Editura: Ohio State University Press
Colecția Mad Creek Books
Seria 21st Century Essays
Recenzii
“Huber's skill shines in her capacity to wind these stories into meaningful narratives...a witty mind, full of delightful surprises...an intimate pleasure.” —Linda Levitt, PopMatters
“Only a writer with impeccable narrative control could weave so many threads into one story, or could make what is surely endlessly labored-over prose read so effortless, so heat-of-the-moment real.…[Supremely Tiny Acts is] a book about what it looks like to try. It’s a book that knows exactly how hard it is to try … But we have to anyway because the world is waiting on us—is counting on us—to try.” —Anna Sims, The Linden Review
“It’s hard not to be impressed with the ambition of Sonya Huber’s Supremely Tiny Acts. A day can be made to encapsulate almost everything: the minor (the simple joy of half-and-half) and the major (looming climate catastrophe, parenthood, sexual violence, and what we owe to one another). It’s a thrill when Huber pulls it off.” —Ander Monson, author of I Will Take the Answer: Essays
“Huber embodies Montaigne’s proverbial ‘runaway horse mind’ as she adopts an unwavering split stance as both freethinker and keen observer, unapologetically acknowledging her own unruly yet intriguing mental patterns. I felt like a piece of wood drifting across the ocean, pleasurably caught in waves of sentences bumping me from one idea to another and making me reluctant to return to shore.” —Adriana Páramo, author of Unsent Letters to My Mother
“Only a writer with impeccable narrative control could weave so many threads into one story, or could make what is surely endlessly labored-over prose read so effortless, so heat-of-the-moment real.…[Supremely Tiny Acts is] a book about what it looks like to try. It’s a book that knows exactly how hard it is to try … But we have to anyway because the world is waiting on us—is counting on us—to try.” —Anna Sims, The Linden Review
“It’s hard not to be impressed with the ambition of Sonya Huber’s Supremely Tiny Acts. A day can be made to encapsulate almost everything: the minor (the simple joy of half-and-half) and the major (looming climate catastrophe, parenthood, sexual violence, and what we owe to one another). It’s a thrill when Huber pulls it off.” —Ander Monson, author of I Will Take the Answer: Essays
“Huber embodies Montaigne’s proverbial ‘runaway horse mind’ as she adopts an unwavering split stance as both freethinker and keen observer, unapologetically acknowledging her own unruly yet intriguing mental patterns. I felt like a piece of wood drifting across the ocean, pleasurably caught in waves of sentences bumping me from one idea to another and making me reluctant to return to shore.” —Adriana Páramo, author of Unsent Letters to My Mother
Notă biografică
Sonya Huber is the author of the award-winning essay collection on chronic pain, Pain Woman Takes Your Keys and Other Essays from a Nervous System, as well as Opa Nobody and Cover Me: A Health Insurance Memoir.
Extras
I've been living as if my actions are a note in a bottle to a future that might not exist, Schrödinger’s Tomorrow, and I’ve been in that headspace my whole life, the hovering discomfort beginning in the 1980s when I was 8 or 9 and first understood the Cold War, writing to President Reagan to try to convince him that if there were a nuclear war he would also not have jelly beans anymore, a candy-based case for saving humanity, and in response months later I got a formatted newsletter from the White House about kids and politics that was complete bullshit, and I knew that even then, and I threw it away. I wasn’t precious enough to save any of those records of my early activism because that was not the kind of family I was from, not the kind that recognized itself in resistance, and my anger at society was a furtive secret.
That was before I started making hand-drawn T-shirts with quotes about the dangers of nuclear war, copying quotes from a library book onto a Hanes shirt from Kmart with toothpicks dipped in fabric paint, and then I wore those under loose flannels to school at a time when I think I was the only political-shirt-wearing person in a place where my graduating class alone was over 700 people. I went to a farm-town high school in Illinois, a massive and pretty authoritarian place south of Chicago without a student newspaper known as having the best discipline in the state, not Evanston at all. At some point after I stopped curling my hair with a curling iron in the late 1980s style, someone carved “LESBO” in the dark green paint of my locker in the hallway near the band room, even though I had a boyfriend on the soccer team. I kept that to myself. I was always afraid about doing my tiny things, leaving hand-drawn flyers in the grocery store about the dangers of dioxin bleach in the paper products and chlorofluorocarbons, but I always did them anyway, compulsed as only a Catholic girl raised on visions of saintly bodily sacrifice can be, like Saint Lucy holding her eyeballs on a platter, the wounds of stigmata as honor, raised that suffering equals love and that justice requires a blood sacrifice. Well, it often does.
That was before I started making hand-drawn T-shirts with quotes about the dangers of nuclear war, copying quotes from a library book onto a Hanes shirt from Kmart with toothpicks dipped in fabric paint, and then I wore those under loose flannels to school at a time when I think I was the only political-shirt-wearing person in a place where my graduating class alone was over 700 people. I went to a farm-town high school in Illinois, a massive and pretty authoritarian place south of Chicago without a student newspaper known as having the best discipline in the state, not Evanston at all. At some point after I stopped curling my hair with a curling iron in the late 1980s style, someone carved “LESBO” in the dark green paint of my locker in the hallway near the band room, even though I had a boyfriend on the soccer team. I kept that to myself. I was always afraid about doing my tiny things, leaving hand-drawn flyers in the grocery store about the dangers of dioxin bleach in the paper products and chlorofluorocarbons, but I always did them anyway, compulsed as only a Catholic girl raised on visions of saintly bodily sacrifice can be, like Saint Lucy holding her eyeballs on a platter, the wounds of stigmata as honor, raised that suffering equals love and that justice requires a blood sacrifice. Well, it often does.
Descriere
Recounts the mundane details of an arrest and subsequent court appearance to reflect on privilege, protest, and everyday life as seedbed for political change.