Meander

Like a lot of folks in the comments, I started to settle into the rhythm this week. The noir felt more like a noir. Iris’ memoir got the good long run many of us were hoping for. The sci fi sort of reminded me of a lost Ursula K. Le Guin novel, if Le Guin was a brutish/vulnerable tough guy who definitely didn’t do it. Unless perhaps he did.

My favorite part so far is the wrapper — the thing that surrounds all this swirl. I keep scribbling notes on the title page about this date or that, a marriage, a birth, a death — the story implied that pulls this all together.

I think Winston Churchill described The Blind Assassin best when he called it “a riddle, inside a mystery, wrapped in an enigma. And a heck of a good read!”

I agree with Winston — this is a real joy, a book that’s several books. And one that appropriately seems to be choosing its own quirky pace as it meanders between decades, characters, genres, offering up Russian dolls, as Amanda said in the comments, each doll creating the next.

Playlist-o-rama In other news, an Elvis Costello track was added to the playlist — feel free to add more if the mood strikes.

This week: Let’s charge on through to page 179 in the blue edition, aka the end of “The button factory picnic” wherein the allure of “gold-plated gingerbread” beckons us thither….

Say pally, how’s this work again? Finish on time, comment each week, and stay in the hunt for a free “I Survived The Blind Assassin Meander” magnet. Oh, and in case you were wondering: This is the post for comments on Chapters 4.6 – 5.5.

Welcome Button Factory Visitors

Have I already confessed that this is my first Atwood? And that somehow I hadn’t even heard of this book before a few weeks ago?

Well, you can imagine my delight this week, as I finally found out what the hell we had gotten ourselves into.

As so-called Alex said in the comments, even when I was confused, the language (Iris’ repeated self-slams — “I shambled into the kitchen” — family buttons concealing “the category of objects the world needs but scorns”) kept me happily zipping along. Add to that a sort of sinister-Kilgore-Trout-ish sci fi vision (“This carpet blinded ten children”) threaded throughout our tale, and a gentle reader in search of distraction couldn’t ask for much more. Except perhaps for a marble head-of-medusa over the fireplace.

By the end of this week, the pieces felt like they were starting to come together. My ad hoc family-tree-scibbles were beginning to make sense. And I was left ready to dive into Week Two.

Really enjoying the comments, as always — and it’s a particular treat to see such a great mix of long-time and returning Meanderers and first time Meander-peeps, blending into one mighty communal intelligence.

Speaking of communal intelligence: Last time around, we built an ad hoc White Noise Meander playlist. On the thread this past week, Computilo [whoops: corrected in the comments — Peaseblossom, not Computilo!] and So-Called Amanda offered a couple of excellent TBAM playlist suggestions. I’ve added a Jim Croce tune to the mix and started up a TBAM Spotify playlist you can find here. Feel free to call out songs to add in the comments as we wander along, or add ’em directly to the playlist, which is set up for public co-creation. Because: music!

This week: Let’s charge on through to page 121 in the blue edition, aka the end of “The Blind Assassin: The Messenger” wherein, gold watch intact, she’s “got to go.”

Say pally, how’s this work again? Finish on time, comment each week, and stay in the hunt for a free “I Survived The Blind Assassin Meander” magnet. Oh, and in case you were wondering: This is the post for comments on Chapters 3.5 – 4.5.

Welcome to the trailhead, my friends!
Today we embark on a winding journey, one that will take us from our living rooms to our bedrooms, from our front porches to our backyards, if we have such things, and then back to our living rooms because you know, couch good. All the while carrying a digital or print copy of Margaret Atwood’s Booker-Prize-winning gothic suspense science fiction neo-classic The Blind Assassin.

I’m super looking forward to this trek, and really grateful to you all for lacing up your Meandering shoes and sharing good company on the path.

Exciting! But how’s it work?
In brief, we’ll be reading 50-60 pages a week. On Sundays I’ll post the next week’s target.

Read along, comment on the thread by week’s end, make it to the finish line, and yes, the rumors you’ve heard are true: you will receive one genuine “I Survived The Blind Assassin Meander” magnet, designed by Meanderer Elisabeth Beller. (For an example of past prizes, check out the magnet from our most recently concluded adventure.)

Times are more than strange, and many of us are looking for ritual, routine, and perhaps a group read of a fairly complex though engaging tome.

If that’s you, I’m glad you found your way here. The waiting is over. Grab your book. Believe in yourself and each other. Comment with verve, kindness, and/or abandon.

And let’s Meander the hell out of this thing.

This week: Read through the end of Avilion by April 11, pausing to comment and take a sip of something that sustains you through “the lumpy, enervating burden of the mundane.”

Throughward and upward!
-Cecil

Some time back, a gaggle of ne-er-do-wells gathered together online to read challenging books in 50-page increments.

We commented as we went, checking in, sharing observations. All with the intent of securing for ourselves a magnetized collectible or similar specialized consumer good.

This was a thing we did. And we did it more than once.

Around New Years, we had the notion to rekindle this old habit, and just the other day we wrapped our first such fiesta in 10 years.

We called it: The White Noise Meander because we read a book called White Noise. And “Amble” didn’t have the necessary oomph.

The plan had been to try the next one in the Fall. But what with current circumstances, it seemed reading another challenging book en masse in 50-page increments, and etc., might be a welcome occupation.

All to say, April 5: The Meander. Is. Back!™

Wait, really?!
Really! MeanderTime!™

But what’s the book?! No less than Margaret Atwood’s The Blind Assassin (the Booker-Prize winning gothic suspense, romance, science fiction masterpiece, and I do mean “the” as in, there ain’t two….)

This does sound great. But what are the rules?

Read the book (50 pages or so assigned per week — don’t start before April 5)

Comment every week on the appropriate blog post

Make it to the end of the book

Get an exciting prize! (and you can double-bet it’ll be magnetized)

If you’re interested in joining, feel free to comment on this thread, or wait for the kick off. For now, all you have to do is get yourself a copy of the book — print, ebook, and audio all work.

Last thoughts
I’ll admit, I was surprised just how much I deeply appreciated The White Noise Meander. I’m super looking forward to diving into this next one, and would love to have ya along for the page-flip.

Best!
-Cecil

Congratulations ye mighty Meanderers!

A full-on fabulous 19 folks made it to the finish line and will receive magnets via mail (one of these days soonly). As we get ready to send the design off to Vortex Industries for replication at our famed factories in the beating heart of old town Poznan, here’s a peek at what this was all about.

I mean yes, there was the book itself, which I think everyone agrees was way too well-timed for this unsettling moment. And yes again, there was the fact that the word “Meander” somehow made an unexpected appearance in the third sentence of the week 6 section — a fact first noted by Itto Ogami in the comments. And sure, there was the exceptional back and forth in said comments. Always a joy on these journeys, but especially appreciated this go around.

Still, you were drawn to this adventure by the promise of a free magnet, and a free magnet you shall have.

All 19 winners will receive this spectacular magnetized collectible, featuring collage and design by Meanderer elisabeth beller and images from MohammadHosein Mohebbi, Jakub Nawrot, Valentin Salja, and Jason Rosewell.

Your friends will be envious and your enemies will be confused!

Plus: something to hum to whilst adhering said magnet to your refrigerator! Way back in week 1, Meanderer Neil invited folks to share “the 80s tune you think of when you consider what we’ve read so far.” So-called Bill recently turned this into a Spotify playlist that’s open for editing — please drop by and add in any songs we missed.

I’m overwhelmed! Where do we go from here?? The votes are in and the next Meander will feature Margaret Atwood’s The Blind Assassin, starting Sunday April 5. Shipping is a tad slow at the moment, but Kindle and audio books are available now. If you’re so inspired, I’d love to have you along for the ride. Feel free to chime in below if you are interested in the journey….

Thanks for all and hope to see you on the trail soon….
-Cecil

Our potassium levels are suspect but nonetheless we’ve made it to the start of Week 6, in which we’ll make a wee leap to the back of the book.

Thanks again for taking the trek. I have missed these group reads, and the book is much richer for having all of your thoughts in the swirl.

Last week the thread included ruminations on mortality, faith, and pleasure, and a defense of nostalgia, to which: amen! There were also questions about how exactly one walks like a European, and a hat tip to the permanent-patient status that blinks above our heads.

A few of us — me included — were struck by the Gotham-esque moment of the insane asylum burning down, and our characters watching like it was another show on TV. And we survived the Hitler convention, with their terrifying (at least to me) name tags, and their love of sweets.

All of which added to a general feeling of life and decay (“the time of dangling insects”), creation and ruin, garbage-sorting mayhem, and a sort of death-worshipping vibe that jangles the air in Blacksmith and environs.

As my nemesis Murray noted, you can be homesick even when you’re home. Which is a little like spending your life in mourning for your inevitable death. Be here now, Jack. Before the bracketed numbers with little stars have their say.

This week: It’s the last time you’ll need to comment to qualify for magnetized glory! Shout out as you finish, and let’s meet up at the bottom of page 310 aka the end of our tale….

Be sure to check back for next week’s post when we’ll get a preview of the magnet from the artist herself (“so-called eb”).

Say pally, how’s this work again? Finish on time, comment each week, and stay in the hunt for a free “I Survived the White Noise Meander” magnet. Oh, and in case you were wondering: This is the post for comments on Chapters 37-40 as well as any last contributions you’d like to make to The White Noise Meander Playlist (with a big thanks to Alyssa for volunteering to make that a real thing once our journey is complete).

With all plots moving in one direction, it’s time to launch our Collective into Week 5. There are only two more weeks to go, ye mighty Meanderers, and it continues to be a great treat to read your comments as I trot along the trail.

Last week I went back in time to my first job. It was the end of the day and dark already, so it must have been winter. I shut down my machine, meandered over to my car, and ended up chatting with the head of our editorial department in the parking lot.

After a minute or two the conversation took a turn to real life. One of us shared a hard thing that we were dealing with, I can’t remember whether that was her or me. We talked about the likelihood that most people had something hard they were dealing with, much of the time, and never talked about it.

I remember us nodding out there in the parking lot, in no rush, saying it was super interesting that we all know death is a real thing, a thing we’re going to get around to one of these days. But we put that aside and find a way to focus on fixing the typos on page 57 of a computer book, which back then was almost the definition of an ephemeral object, born to be put out of print.

The tone wasn’t grim. It was “isn’t that something?”

I was barely out of college, and she wasn’t just a grown up, she was the personification of leadership and focus, of hitting dates and doing quality work. But she knew that we lived in two worlds at the same time. It’s stayed with me all these years that we paused there, and we took a moment before driving home, to acknowledge a big truth.

In this little ditty, about Jack and Babette, our protagonists have lost their ability to put this big truth aside. To forget their fear so they can take a step. Take a breath.

They compete to see who’s more terrified.

Him: “I wake up sweating. I break out in killer sweats.”
Her: “I chew gum because my throat constricts.”
Him: “I have no body, I’m only a mind or a self, alone in a vast space.”
Her: “I seize up…”

Jack, Babette, DeLillo, all of us — interesting animals for sure, smart enough to know we’re really truly, no joke, going to die, but not quite smart enough to know what to do about it. Or even how to think about it.

I’m loving this book, Jack’s jackassery and all, for making me think about it, for sending me back to that conversation in the parking lot. And especially, in this moment of fairly high anxiety, for surfacing all the throat constricting moments around us and the many ways we wave our hands at those moments, like flies we’re trying to push up, down, over, away.

This week: Let’s meet up at the end of page 268 aka the end of Chapter 36, where it turns out “Your doctor knows the symbols.”

And then, one week later, magnets await at the finish line!

Say pally, how’s this work again? Finish on time, comment each week, and stay in the hunt for a free “I Survived the White Noise Meander” magnet. Oh, and in case you were wondering: This is the post for comments on Chapters 31-36.

After a fairly average sunset at least hereabouts, welcome to the start of Week 4!

Last week thanks for the rich thread, packed with references to Secret Hitler (a “social deduction” game), the adventures of a mischievous pool toy, some frustrations with J.A.K’s POV, reflections on what White Noise would be like in the 2020s, and a reminder that airborne dangers and face masks require no updating to fit the times.

Extra thanks to Xian who created a fab family tree I love so much I had it turned into a back tattoo. Which really doesn’t help me much now that I think of it. Dag.

I’m still really enjoying the read, underlining scads of sentences. Murray upsets me. The dude is everywhere. And the camp felt like some dream I probably had last night. (“You were there, Dr. Vitz. And you were there too, Computillo.”)

The image that’s stuck with me for a few days is the horror of the Airborne Toxic Event coming into view, like The Blob sliding down main street. Taking on all comers, like King Kong beating its breast while metal birds and spotlights circle round.

I was waiting for the ATE to start to speak. I wondered, what would I do if Climate Change walked into a bar (Trout Fishing-style) and ordered a drink I despise?

And then happily, I think, they were back in town and we all had a moment to reflect on the snow. To frown at Murray. To maybe think a little about being “assigned death” (to borrow Maggie’s excellent phrase from the comments). And to get ready for the next leg of our journey.

This week: Let’s meet up at the bottom of page 219 aka the end of Chapter 30, where we’ll take “a last look at the sky and start walking down the hill.”

Say pally, how’s this work again? Finish on time, comment each week, and stay in the hunt for a free “I Survived the White Noise Meander” magnet. Oh, and in case you were wondering: This is the post for comments on Chapters 23-30.

Hey presto and welcome to the start of Week 3 (and Book II)!

Last week I tried unsuccessfully to keep track of which kid belongs to which parent. (Speaking of which, who’s-whose-kid? cheat sheets will not be deleted from the comments.)

Really appreciated all the thread-goodness on everything from keening kids, to Kate Hepburn, from where White Noise falls on the plastic spectrum, to the pros and cons of DD’s language and style, to a reminder that there’s a grotesque pop culture-ization of Hitler at the heart of our tale.

From the text these last few days, I’ve been thinking about Chapter 20 and the fact that we all (or is it just me and Jack?) run the numbers on how many years we and our loved ones will get. All the decisions we make, all based on a simple formula where X won’t be resolved until it doesn’t matter much.

It didn’t make me blue, but it did leave me feeling grateful to be spending some of my copious X meandering this trail with all of youse.

This week: Book I done, Book II looks to be a fast flip and a zoom. I’ll see you at 50 more pages and a stretch — the end of Chapter 23 aka the bottom of page 164, where “it might make her suspect that something was wrong.”

Say pally, how’s this work again? Finish on time, comment each week, and stay in the hunt for a free “I Survived the White Noise Meander” magnet. Oh, and in case you were wondering: This is the post for comments on Chapters 21-22.

Update! Xian created this lovely family tree for folks like me who were having trouble keeping all the 23andJack deets straight. Enjoy!

And just like that, we’ve made it to the start of Week 2!

Thanks to everyone who’s Meandering and commented on Week 1. Really happy to have you along for the amble!

Last week while we braced for what feels like a bad breeze or perhaps just the next person to fall into a rack of paperbacks at the supermarket, the comments were filled with dogs taking a stand against generic food, suggestions for emotionally aligned tunes from the ’80s (make mine “Cities in Dust”), and visions of peacocks wandering around parking lots.

Meanwhile I was trying hard not to think about a Professor of Hitler Studies naming his son Heinrich, by underlining sentences like “a scrape and gargle that sounded like the stirring of some beast’s ambition,” while pondering “a dull and unlocatable roar, as of some form of swarming life just outside the range of human apprehension.”

This week: The pace feels right, the company’s fab, and you’re tan, rested, and ready for week 2. Let’s meet up at the bottom of page 104, aka the end of Part I, where someone appears to be “crying softly, uncertainly, in low heaves and swells, as Murray took notes.”

Wait, how’s this work again? Finish on time, comment each week, and stay in the hunt for a free “I Survived the White Noise Meander” magnet. Oh, and in case you were wondering: This is the post for comments on Chapters 12-20.