Afraid of the Rain

After the initial flooding happened in our basement, the weather wasn’t really on my mind. It was a failure of equipment and, however inconvenient that is, I can at least fix equipment. But after the second flood? I couldn’t tell myself that. We, as well as so many other residents of the snow belt, had a wet basement floor and this time the culprit was too much groundwater and too much rain and too much melting snow. I cannot control the rain or the melting snow and though we have made several improvements to try to prevent any damage, there are no guarantees.

As I begin to track my moods and educate myself on my emotions and what contributes to them, I keep hitting against the wall of control. I need to be in control. I need to be certain. When things don’t come with guarantees and forces are outside of my control, I get deeply anxious. Deeply upset. When I look back on my crisis points in the past, I can see these themes threaded through them.

I need to start with the rain. I need to start with letting go of the weather apps and the measurements of millimetres of precipitation. I need to find my way back to the child I used to be, who wanted to feel and live in water. Who wasn’t threatened by what it could do. It just seems so long ago now, but it wasn’t. I’m just tired from so many wars against the clouds.

My Favourite Essayists

Lately, I’ve really been enjoying dipping my toes into the land of the personal essay. I found that shorter, non-fiction works helped me immensely when it came to getting out of my reading slump. I also notice that as I get older I’m starting to grow into a reader that wants to learn about the process of writing and wants to spend time with writers as they explore who they are and the world around them without the artifice of fiction.

James Baldwin is my favourite essayist, but I have to say that Written on Water has turned Eileen Chang into a close runner-up. Like Baldwin, she has a beautifully conversational tone that allows the reader into her mental space. These essays are talks over coffee and catching up after a long week. They are close friends talking about the issues that matter to them and the parts of the past still stuck to the hem of their clothes. Chang was born in Shanghai, but writes extensively about both Shanghai and Hong Kong during wartime. Though some of the essays are definitely political in nature and are about the war, more of them are just about life in the city as she comments on opera, art, and even clothing and fashion.

A Note on the Edition

What I found particularly lovely about this edition was the inclusion of Chang’s own sketches which illustrate some of her essays. These are not formal illustrations, but are more akin to doodles, and are a delightful addition. Just like her stories, her drawings have an intimacy to them that seems to come from their very spontaneous style. They add to her point, but they are not planned and they do not have anything to prove. They have the feeling on being drawn on a napkin or a notepad next to the telephone.

Beyond Time

It’s hard to believe that this book was actually published so long ago. The style is bold and vibrant and contains in it some reflection of the youth of the writer (Chang was only in her mid-twenties when the book was published). The reader has to continually remind themself that this was written nearly a hundred years ago, because it fits so beautifully into contemporary styles of personal essay.

The only pieces that feel their age are perhaps the comments on art and culture and the reviews Chang wrote. I think this has happened because time has made it obvious which pieces and subjects Chang enjoyed and engaged with more. Her strength is definitely talking about the personal and aspects of every day life. When Chang presents a more heavily researched piece, there are noticeable moments of awkward phrasing or a bit of clumsy analysis. My favourite essays were the ones about her own experiences or those of her neighbours, friends, or strangers she crossed paths with.

Noise

Since I started working in the bedroom to escape the chaos of construction, my mood around it has improved somewhat. It’s not a perfect solution. No solution can be perfect when I have to work this far away from my lovely spouse for hours on end. But it has helped. And it’s given me the space to sit with my feelings instead of funnelling them all into my tense back and aching head.

Today is a noisy day and, though I can’t even hear it through earplugs and headphones on top of those earplugs, I find even the idea of noise is distressing me. Really? Even the idea of noise? I need some major calm-down time and I need it soon.