Libraries, stab-wound feelings, & momento mori

Book Club: ATGIB Chs 1-6

Hello, and happy Wednesday!

Market day in the Lower East Side, Jewish Quarter, NYC in 1912. Courtesy of NYPL Digital gallery

Where I live, it is a bright summer day and I can hear the early chorus of birdsong outside. My sweet pea flowers are climbing their trellis a couple of inches per day, and the perennial flowers I haphazardly planted early in the spring are beginning to crowd each other in their bed. There is a friendly robin who has been visiting the garden, and I look forward to spotting him every morning. I’m drinking a cold brew coffee (with milk) in my Taylor Swift mug, and I’m listening to some of Saint Hildegard’s music on Spotify. I can hear that my daughter’s just woken up and needs my attention. I need to take a pause in writing this, and it’s okay if you need to take pauses when you read it!

What is it like where you are? Give yourself a moment to breathe deeply and sink into your surroundings. It’s my hope that the time you spend reading this newsletter each week feels like an invitation to find rest in reflection and in our sharing together. I’m so glad you’re here. No hustle required.

I enjoyed reading your comments last week and appreciate the time you took to write them and share what you hope to discover as we read. Let’s dive in and see how we get on this week, shall we?

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There’s so much to explore in just these first six chapters alone. Francie already has shown her character to be like the tree of heaven, able to grow and persist even in unlikely circumstances. I discovered the tree of heaven’s proper name which is ailanthus, and it’s a tree that in most of the world is not something people would want on their property. It’s invasive, fast growing, hard to contain, and even intoxicates the other green and growing things nearby. Fascinating. What does this tell us about Francie, and maybe even Betty Smith’s sense of herself (since this is considered to be somewhat biographical)?

Thinking back to Rebecca Nye’s definition of ‘spirituality’ as an ‘awareness of the sacred quality to life experiences', I wonder what you noticed in our chapters this week? I’ll go first.

Self

One of the big developmental stages for children is when they recognise their own mortality. In early childhood, children form an awareness of death which is only understood as something that happens to other people. Then, around age 9-12, children become aware that death is something that can happen to them, too.

In the very first chapter, Francie has this aha moment in which she recognizes the inevitability of her own death, and understandably, she is terrified. While she waits to buy stale bread to feed her family for a week, she observes an older gentleman and thinks,

“He was a baby once. He must have been sweet and clean and his mother kissed his pink little toes. […] Then he was a young man, strong and happy. […] Now his children are getting old too, like him, and they have children and nobody wants the old man any more and they are waiting for him to die. […] A terrible panic that had no name came over Francie as she realized that many of the sweet babies in the world were born to come to something like this old man some day. She had to get out of this place or it would happen to her.”

This is a major moment for Francie, and I can’t help but think Smith very intentionally put it at the beginning of the book. Francie’s awareness of her own mortality will impact her view of the world from this moment on, even if not actively at the front of her mind.

There is a whole concept dedicated to the idea of recognising and facing your own mortality called Momento Mori. It translates to remember your death, and there are lots of tools out there for incorporating reflections on this into your spiritual disciplines, with the idea that acknowledging the inevitability of our death enables us to fully live. One of my favourite books that explores this idea is Awakened by Death by Christiana N. Peterson. 100% recommend. (Christiana is also a very lovely person.)

Would it be helpful for me to share more about children’s developmental stages and understanding of death, or Momento Mori? Let me know in the comments, and I can include this in July’s newsletter.

Others

Francie’s sense of herself is greatly impacted by her relationship with her father. I was compelled by Smith’s description of Francie’s feelings when she was with her Papa.

“Francie kissed his cheek softly. ‘Oh Papa, I love you so much,’ she whispered. He held her tight. Again, the stab-wound feeling.”

We all know that stab-wound feeling, don’t we? It’s interesting to notice that Francie admits to loving her Papa best, even though he is self-described as ‘no good’. Francie also seems to take on a lot of responsibility for him, which sadly is a common experience for children whose families are struggling like Francie’s.

I can think of many encounters I’ve had with children in hospital who’ve had to mature very quickly because of their parents lack of maturity or lack of privilege. In a way it seems children try to offer to their parents what they need or want for themselves: assurance, security, hope, and care. While there is something beautiful about this, and it isn’t only a negative thing, it does mean a child’s innocence is lost much faster than it might have been otherwise. Childhood innocence is a gift afforded to the privileged. Francie’s relationship to and with her parents certainly impacts her spirituality and how she navigates the world.

Environment

Brooklyn itself is the obvious environment in this story which shapes Francie’s spirituality, and there are several micro-environments that contribute as well. I wonder which ones you noticed? For me, the fire escape stands out. It’s a protected place where Francie can create her own security and observe the world from a distance - making sense of it, searching for connections, and feel a sense of wonder. Francie’s depth of connection to this place is captured at the beginning of ch 3: ‘Francie had finished her book and her candy and had noted how pale and thin the late afternoon sun was on the worn fence boards. She held the sun-warmed, wind-freshened pillow to her cheek a moment before she replaced it on her cot.’

I wonder if you’ve had any places in your life that function as a sacred space for you?

Transcendent

After Francie had come in and closed the door quietly behind there - the way you were supposed to do in the library - she looked quickly at the little golden-brown pottery jug which stood at the end of the librarian’s desk. It was a season indicator. In the fall it held a few sprigs of bittersweet and at Christmas time it held holly. She knew spring was coming, even if there was snow on the ground, when she saw pussy willow in the bowl. And today, on this summer Saturday of 1912, what was the bowl holding? She moved her eyes slowly up the jug past the thin green stems and little round leaves and saw… nasturtiums! Red, yellow, gold and ivory-white. A head pain caught her between the eyes at the taking in of such a wonderful sight. It was something to be remembered all her life.

Gosh, isn’t that just a gorgeous paragraph? I really felt like I was there in the library. I could smell the old books, and I imagined the librarian’s desk and lines of light from the windows stretching out across the floor. Francie loved the library, and ‘the feeling she had about it was as good as the feeling she had about church.’

Later in chapter 6, Francie describes her experience of church when attending and making her confession. Again, her description relies heavily on her sensory experience of it - the sights, smells, and atmosphere - more than describing the function of church. Perhaps being attentive to our senses is a childlike way to notice sacred places and transcendent experiences. If Francie feels most connected to the transcendent in a library, I wonder what this suggests about her future pursuits?

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Just for fun…

Some links you might find interesting if you want to dig deeper into the world of Brooklyn in the early 20th century:

All of a sudden, immigrants were arriving to the borough in seek of relief from the high rents and poor, crowded living conditions of New York City. By the end of the 19th century, more than one million people lived in Brooklyn and more than 30 percent were born in another country.

Brooklyn's History of Immigrants

‘The Irish experience in America, especially for the nineteenth century, is distinguished by its urban nature. Not all of the Irish lived in a tenement, but the relationship that develops between a predominantly rural immigrant people and the metropolis in places like New York, Boston and Philadelphia is essential to understanding Irish and American history.’

Irish Tenement Life in NYC

And a film recommendation:

Brooklyn, starring Saoirse Ronan, is about an Irish immigrant who comes to Brooklyn in the 1950s and quickly falls in love. It touches on themes of belonging, sense of home, expatriate life, immigration, and of course, how love compels and drives us. I really enjoyed this film and found it hit close to home in regards to the questions I often have as an expat living abroad.

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Okay, that’s more than enough from me. 🙂 I’m really keen to hear what you’ve noticed and what you’re wondering about, so do please jump in the comments this week when you can. And if you feel able, come back a few days later to interact with each other. I’ll be responding, too!

Love,
Janette