(You’ll have to forgive me, for I just finished reading a beautifully tattered version of Winnie-the-Pooh, printed in 1930, with Benjamin and re-fell in love with A.A. Milne’s tendency to capitalize Certain Words of Importance. I’m sure this will get old.)

Regardless of the lack of actual studio time, I’ve been continuing to work on, ponder and dream about the project I shared with you earlier. Dancers Becca, Lindsey and I made quite a bit of progress as a trio and I was eagerly anticipating a more steady schedule at the start of this year – something completely possible since I had chosen to leave the comfort of stable office life and pursue dance full-time and make the rent with freelance/part-time gigs. (That’s a whole different entry…)

So far, so good. In solo terms.

The gathering of the trio? Not so successful yet. And then I learn that I’m probably losing a dancer come April or May! What to do, what to do?!

That’s when I saw Frameworks on Dance New Amsterdam‘s roster for the winter season and thought about dabbling in some dance for camera. I’m becoming more and more tech savvy since moving to the city (you have to in order to survive in non-profit land!), and I think that some of our movement would translate well to this new “venue.”

Frameworks was an excellent chance to be nerdy audience members, take notes and decide what we need to decide in order to move forward in this new direction.

Lindsey, Becca and I discovered that there were several aspects of dance on camera that engaged us most as viewers. I leave you with a list of reflections on the series and a request that you share your own opinions.

1. Setting. Taking dance off stage and onto the screen provides seemingly endless possibilities for place. Which is ripe with symbolism, tonal energy, and more. If there isn’t a specific space the dance should take place to convey a specific idea or energy, it doesn’t need to be on film.

2. The living body. A few of the short films curated by the Frameworks team were animated or blurred in a way that obscured the body, and this, in our opinion, was less moving to watch. These videos could be beautiful, no doubt, but we didn’t have much to compliment besides the beauty. We want our project to have more of a visceral or intellectual impact.

3. Framing. Duh, right? But what I found most interesting when considering how the framing of the work affected my thoughts on the project is what was omitted or obscured in the process. Sometimes what you don’t see is just as important as what you do!

So tell me what you think of dance on film vs. dance on stage, and if you’re a seasoned vet of the medium, I’ll gladly accept some advice!

Happy dancing to all!

I saw Ralph Lemon at BAM;

took Alexandra Beller’s class at DNA;

discussed the city concert scene and possibilities for a new work with a dear friend from Iowa’s dance department (thank you, Aya!);

set a rough timeline for a work I’m choreographing for my kid sister and her peers (which, so far, has mostly been created on subway rides to and from the gym);

agreed with and/or argued the dance reviews in the New York Times (in my head);

and spent too many hours uploading poor quality video from rehearsal and figuring out how to include it in this post.

I’ve discovered that there is a frightening possibility that I am turning into a complete cynic when it comes to viewing performances, but I’m still a hopeful romantic when it comes to creating new work. And conversations with friends in the field have re-emphasized that in order to succeed in this world, you have to need it, not kind-of-like-it-as-a-sort-of-hobby.

(Right now I’m not getting as much as I need, but I can’t figure out just yet how to solve that problem and regain the clarity that would accompany such a solution. For example, today has been a fairly dance-free day and I feel pathetic and moody. Yesterday was mostly dance-driven and I was ebullient.)

So while I haven’t had nearly enough time in the studio with the lovely ladies featured in the video clips below, I have been enjoying every millisecond of it. I’m at the point where I am experiencing doubt and being completely self-critical and not entirely sure where this piece is going, so I’d love some feedback as I move forward. There’s something about concealment or misleading or truths from different viewpoints that’s going on here and I have a lot of work to do before it becomes clear. I’d love to hear what you have to say.

Any comments, criticism, suggestions, advice is welcome. PS: How does the music thing work for those outside the safety of the academic bubble? I just realized that I’m going to have to start dealing with copyrights…bah!

Tonight marked my first time back in dance-maker shoes (aka barefoot) since my brief stint as improviser/collaborator with Sydnie Mosley at Governor’s Island in June. Two dear friends have eagerly agreed to indulge me in my latest creative endeavor, a continuation and expansion of “Tell it Slant,” a work I choreographed for my honors thesis concert at the University of Iowa in May 2009. Lindsey (you remember my guest blogger), Becca and I will meet weekly at Dance New Amsterdam (and other TBA spaces, I’m sure) to learn and re-work the quartet-now-trio as well as invent new sections to flesh out the dance’s main thematic material.

“Tell it Slant” (a title lifted from an Emily Dickinson poem as suggested by a writer friend) is a 7-minute quartet that addresses issues of concealment and obstruction in truth-telling. Because much of my senior year in college was spent obsessing over the psychology of lying (for personal reasons you are probably privy to if you know me), I created an entire thesis (both written and choreographed) centered on the subject. This particular dance has haunted me since its first and only stage appearance, because it seems unfinished and much feels left undiscovered.

I’m thrilled to begin working again, not only because the dance studio still feels more like home than anywhere else, but also because I hate leaving a project with loose ends.

And I am also looking forward to keeping you informed of my progress – through written updates and video blogs.

Onward in art,

amy

Thanks for sharing, Lindsey!

While I have regularly been attending performances of various Modern dance companies, it has been over a year (or even more!) since I saw a ballet other than The Nutcracker. My friend Maya and I decided last minute to grab Family Circle tickets to ABT’s Sleeping Beauty tonight, and I was reminded how beautiful and enjoyable an evening at the ballet can be. I have never seen the full production of Sleeping Beauty, but I recognized almost all of the music (by Tchaikovsky). The distinct use of the harp, flute and occasional percussion create a distinctive and cohesive sonic backdrop. Performing the original Petipa choreography, the dancers offered a solid performance and an enjoyable evening.

Modern dance often looks down on ballet as romanticized, formulaic, or misogynistic, and while each of these critiques holds a degree of validity, ballet has the ability to transport the audience member to a magical fairy land where life is simple, dreams come true, and love conquers death. Although I am a firm believer that physical strength is not only a matter of size and usually enjoy seeing women lift men, or “smaller” dancers support “larger” ones, tonight I was able to abandon my feminist perspective and indulge in the beauty of classical ballet. The costume and set design was astounding, with incredible detail and grandeur that modern dance companies just cannot compete with.

On a Tuesday night, you do not get the number one dancers, but tonight’s cast offered a solid performance. It was not perfect: there were a few off-balance moments; formations and spacing among the corps could use some work; and there was a slight costume mishap when the fairies placed a robe on Aurora in the end of the Wedding scene; but it was lovely overall. The Lilac Fairy and the Fairy of Joy (Maria Riccetto and Sarah Lane) offered stellar performances, with both the technique and performance quality to captivate me. I am not sure if it was a matter of perspective from my seat in the top tier, or a stylistic choice of ABT, but my biggest complaint about the dancing was that the attitudes seemed too short. I noticed this in multiple dancers, and wished they would extend and wrap their back legs just the slightest bit more, creating a delicately sloping line rather than a harsh angle. The fairy who wore pink (I believe she was Fervor, played by Yuriko Kajiya) seemed heavy, weighted down–a problem for a dancer whose variations included many jumps and leaps. In contrast, both The Bluebird (Blaine Hoven) and Prince Desire (Maxim Beloserkovsky) had impressive height in their leaps. Aurora (Irina Dvorovenko) was an enjoyable dancer, not completely breath-taking, but lovely to watch. She had incredible feet, and during the final pas, did a beautiful series of inside double pirouettes with a forward diving fish lift. All in all, solid, enjoyable performers.

It was nice to take an evening away from Modern dance to indulge in the magical beauty of classical ballet. While the story line may be thin and the logic flawed; while it may lack social relevance and deep meaning; ABT’s performance of Sleeping Beauty was a wonderful demonstration of technical virtuosity, and an enjoyable escape from the stressors of life in New York.

-Lindsey Turner

I am formally inviting YOU to Powers of i, a fusion of choreography and structured improvisation created and performed by Sydnie Mosley and ME.

When? Friday, June 11 @ 4pm

Where? Nolan Park on Governor’s Island

What? Powers of i is an ever-changing dance that explores the art of creativity in a surprisingly mathematical manner. The duet morphs into something new with each audience, as viewers reshape the space and contribute to the sound score, rearranging the sequence of movement events in the process. Providing observations on choreographic procedure, Powers of i is formulaic in its construction, complex in its design and meticulous in its execution. Follow and alter our addition, subtraction, multiplication and division of movement to a final solution.

Passive viewing is discouraged. Grab a part of the problem and move it to a new point in the space. Vocalize what you’re rearranging and watch the dance move in a new direction.

Why? As part of FIGMENT NYC 2010. Check it out – pretty neato.

This is a risky one, folks, because audience participation is what keeps the dance going. Syd and I need you. So, all abooooooard! See you there!

YelleB Dance Ensemble‘s run at the Joyce SoHo last weekend called to mind these emotional associations we have with the heart. Unfortunately, their performance only did so because it was lacking heart of its own.

YelleB’s Pericardium is a collaborative and multifaceted work which integrates choreography, architectural design, videography and original music. It explores ideas of boundaries and walls – the tension, comfort, concealing and revealing that can occur in, behind, through and around them.

On paper, I think this is an admirable and intriguing conceptual foundation, but when I saw it explored on stage, it ultimately fell short of its goals to provide a framework for human interaction. The parts seem to fit together nicely, but in the end, they were like puzzle pieces that, when joined, do not make up a satisfying image.

The trouble with criticizing this work is that I also enjoyed the movement in addition to the joining of other media. Riddled with motifs and expressing inherent tonal shifts in its gestural, familiar, even conversational nature, the choreography was simple, clear and concise. A direct and succinct dialogue. It was refreshing in its unconvoluted presentation and pace, but still, something felt…off.

My dear friend Lindsey, with whom I share very similar tastes in dance (from classes to performances to interests in particular segments of history) found the perfect way to describe the missing piece:

Some of it felt real, but some of it felt contrived. I wanted more of it to be real.

And this is why my Saturday evening in SoHo was so frustrating. It all comes down to performance quality! A winning foundation/concept/plan. An affecting set. Striking video. Annnnd completely lackluster performance by the company members, Ella Ben-Aharon and Edo Ceder.

I noticed this lack of performer’s spark right away:

At the beginning of the performance, audience members were seated according to their answers to a Rorschach inkblot test. Right off the bat, I was separated from my boyfriend, Ben, and felt a bit anxious.  I also felt curious and eager to watch what may unfold and to wonder what Ben would see differently from his vantage point.

When Ella entered my side of the stage, she began pacing backwards, creating rigid pathways to carve the space into numerous rectangles, only to reassemble the pieces when she traced the outer edges. She began relocating her body parts by gingerly moving them with her hands – her actions were statements: “This leg belongs here. This arm over there.”  The phrasing was intricate and dynamic and kinesthetically interesting, but her gaze was so empty that it left me feeling all the more separate and isolated. This feeling of isolation persisted throughout the evening-length work. Even when the movement seemed created to convey tenderness.

At one point, Ella dances behind the transparent white screen that creates boundaries on stage, and Edo dances in front of it. They each use the negative space created by the other to simulate how touch may have occurred, if only they were near one another. She, behind the screen, becomes an apparition. Even this, which could have been touching, sorrowful, moving…even this became pedantic – a merely clinical study of physical configuration.

To truly communicate with an audience there needs to be something more, and I believe it’s something you learn from injecting storylines and reliving past experiences and conjuring emotions from imaginary scenarios…something that is then plainly expressed through your face and body.

I recently discussed performance quality with Caridad Martinez at Brooklyn Ballet. She insisted that knowledge of dance history better prepares a ballerina to be communicative in classical roles. I insist that the methods above (among innumerable others) better prepare a performer for expression of a more human and universal nature.

With Pericardium, the ideas were solid, but the performance was not. Such a shame. Really just breaks your heart.

I just skimmed my 24 list and I’m happy to report that I have indeed worked on some of the goals listed (keeping up with correspondence, dancing more, saying no, looking things up in the dictionary, watching the Sox, getting out of bed sooner, going on frequent walks…)

So that’s great news.

But I also realize that I haven’t written on here, mostly because I’ve had nothing to write about. Mostly because I created this blog to write about dance and I haven’t been watching any! How sad is that?!

So. This weekend I saw Chen Dance Center‘s “New Steps” choreographer’s series, which is one of the city’s many “work-in-progress goes through a few hours of rehearsals and *poof* there’s a finished dance ready for an audience” type dealies. My friend Sydnie Mosley was showing a piece that she started creating while at the University of Iowa and decided to expand upon once she moved back to New York. I went to support her and also to see what my contemporaries were up to. (I’ve recently applied for a few space/performance opportunities, so naturally I was curious about “the competition.”)

[Sydnie's work had me evaluating my own emotional responses. Her dancers constantly vocalized throughout the piece which I didn't fully understand. Was Sydnie's aim to further motivate them physically with the sounds they were making? I found a disconnect here...

But even distracted by the grunts and shouts, I was roped in by the alternately tender and pushy touch between the dancers. A mixed group, they each had their own talents, and sometimes I was overwhelmed by the amount of things happening at once. But then there'd be a physical connection made between the movers -- a bridge of calm that helped ease my anxiety.

An anxiety clearly stimulated by the nervous tics in the movement motifs throughout the work. The dancers seemed frustrated, trying to run but not going anywhere, running into one another when they were hoping to find liberty from the tightening spaces between them...they would not be placated when all they were experiencing was a lack of direction and/or action.

These moments of more delicate contact helped me, an unusually highstrung viewer to begin with, to calm down.]

Much to my dismay, I’m finding a trend in my reactions to modern dance created by emerging choreographers in the city. At best, I remain detached, completely disinterested with what’s on stage and therefore engaged in vivid daydreams which I snap out of when the applause starts up. At worst, I’m infuriated with the lack of direction, meaning, humanity, dance, drive, originality…I seethe when I see something that encourages the argument that modern dance is esoteric and unapproachable, feckless and pretentious.

Many of the works on this particular program had me questioning why I’m here, what I do and why I value dance at all if it’s no longer used to communicate in multiple plains of influence (emotional, intellectual, visceral, etc.)

The final work, a duet choreographed by Loni Landon and danced (beautifully) by Rachelle Rafailedes and Christopher Ralph, provided some relief from my escalating dread. The large, virtuosic movement was interspersed with very human gestures, postures and actions that revealed a complicated and disturbing relationship between two people. The connection between these two people was ridden with dependency, enabling and abuse, yet I found it comforting to watch, because it communicated something understandable, relatable and real.

Even as I exhaled my sigh of relief, I knew there was still something missing. And then it hit me. Did this dance make any kind of comment on this disquieting state of affairs? No. So what is the point of showing it? Shouldn’t we, as choreographers, be judging/persuading/pontificating? I guess we don’t need to present full-on dance sermons, but we should at least have a point, right?? Unbiased is not the objective here. Dance is more an op-ed than a police blotter.

This is certainly a challenge — to really truly comment on life through dance. Am I the only one who demands this of my art? I don’t think so. So why don’t I see more of an opinion on the city’s stages?

On my subway ride home from work, I began thinking a bit too much (how unlike me, right?) about how many years that is. I figured all that thinking should be channeled into something constructive (also a predictable Amy quality) and started brainstorming birthday blog posts.

First brainstorm?

Lists.

I love lists. So maybe I’d make 24-year-old lists with 24-year-old ideas. Like “24 things I enjoy about being 24″ and “24 things I despise about being 24″ and “24 of my favorite NYC things/occurrences/traits” and “24 reasons why I think I’ve matured this year alone” etc.

Then I thought about this blog and how many times I’ve written here — and in emails to friends and family — goals that I have for this month and that month and explanations on how I’m going to accomplish them. And realized how very few I’ve been able to stick with. And how very unlike me that is.

So this post is dedicated to 24 goals I have for my 24th year on this planet. For some I’ll make a detailed game-plan and for others I’ll just have a very vague idea of what I actually mean by setting them. Some will be lofty and others will seem like small-potatoes.

I have all year to get to these ones so I think I’ll be able to do it. Here goes:

1. Keep referring to this list, and more importantly, letting you guys know when I am accomplishing my goals.

2. Start and maintain a journal. Whether that means write a paragraph a day or one entry every two weeks, I don’t know yet. But I need to start writing more, because I sure do miss it.

3. Still in the writing vein — keep up with correspondence more regularly. There are many I’ve neglected to respond to via Facebook, blog, e-mail, etc. when they’ve provided me with smiles and laughs and warmth through their words. I owe it to them to write back sooner. No matter how busy I might be. Besides, whenever I do find the time to write back, I realize how much I truly love writing letters. One of my favorite activities. Truly.

4. Dance more. I don’t know what this means yet. But I’m going to figure it out. Maybe it means: don’t be afraid to battement at the subway station. Maybe it means: get your ass to class, Amy Nichole. Whatever it is, when I figure it out, I’m sure to be a happier me.

5. Look in the mirror and think happy body thoughts. This one might be the most challenging.

6. Budget more wisely when it comes to food. I’ve been eating out too often in NY. Yummy. But not worth completely emptying my wallet.

7. Donate my hair to Locks for Love again. This one will take a bit more time since my crazy mass of wonky waves grows slower than snail’s pace.

8. Be kind. (Not a new one. Always a goal.)

9. Choreograph. Anything. Everything. One thing. Many things. Just do it again.

10. Sing more. It makes me happy.

11. Visit at least one city I’ve never visited. With the intent to really explore it. Not to just pass through.

12. Stop swearing. As much. (I fear it’s getting a bit out of hand. And I used to have such a sweet and innocent mouth…

…that’s what she said?)

13. Say no when necessary.

14. Learn how to make a mean apple pie. And maybe raspberry, too.

15. Speaking of baking desserts, cut down on my sugar intake. I must be made of at least 70% sugar right now.

16. Read for pleasure. And also for scholarly pursuits. I haven’t actually read anything dance-related all the way front cover to back cover since I graduated from Iowa.

17. Fix the Joliet household’s webcam so I can have mother/daughter, sister/sister video chats.

18. Find a friend with a pooch or a shelter that welcomes volunteers and walk a dog.

19. Look more things up in the dictionary. It only takes a few seconds. And I love learning new words. Why keep furiously flipping pages in Sherlock Holmes if I’m not sure what “rubber” means? (Not what you’re thinking, pervs. In context, I could tell it had something to do with cards, and later Ben -boyfriend- found that it means:

rub·ber

–noun

1. (in certain card games, as bridge and whist)

2. a series or round played until one sidereaches a specific score or wins a specific number of hands.

3. a series consisting of an odd number of games won by the side winning the majority, usually two out of three.

4. the deciding game in such a series.

–adjective

5. Also called rubber match. Sports. noting a deciding contest between two opponents who have previously won the same number of contests from each other.

but I just hadn’t made the time to look it up. Why the heck not? I have a pocket dictionary in my backpack for goodness sakes!)

20. Go on frequent walks. When the sun comes back out to play. This and Goal 18 go together nicely.

21. Keep up with what’s going on with my White Sox. Even if I can’t watch many of the games while living in another state.

22. Get out of bed sooner upon hearing my alarm.

23. Remember I’m not a superhero.

24. Take more photos. This will be tricky as it involves remembering to both charge my camera and bring it with me.

readysetgo.

What do you think of university dance vs. “real world” dance? Is there a difference in how you react/have reacted? Is one more sheltered than the other? Is one more “legitimate” than the other?

Elizabeth (recent graduate from UI, MFA dance):

“What will dance look like in the aftermath of theory’s performance? (Or how will theory coalesce a dance of its own aftermath?) Mark Franko

Since Mark Franko’s article on “the gift” was one of the most salient features of my grad school indoctrination into the world of dance theory, it is perhaps fitting that my first post-grad school essay, or “response” if you will, is mulling over a question he poses at the end of an article included in Jane Desmond’s Meaning in Motion: New Cultural Studies of Dance. His verbiage is tied to the previous article that I literally read three times first semester (once over red wine with other befuddled graduate students). In “Some Notes on Yvonne Rainer, Modernism, Politics, Emotion, Performance, and the Aftermath” Franko speaks of an “aftermath” once again. He claims that the theorization of dance history was a task for the nineties and now the task at hand is to deal with the aftermath as theoretically conscious makers and doers. (Or at least this is how I’m understanding his question for my own selfish reasons.)
Maybe I’m just a self-absorbed narcissist, but the political is also personal in this situation. I’m struggling right now with a transition similar to Dance Theory’s dilemma. In the aftermath of graduate school as I start a new phase of trying desperately to make dance my legitimate career, what do I do with the knowledge that I’ve gained? I’ve been doing a LOT of dance watching in the last six months, in a new place with new people with their own particular culture and subcultures happening. I now have these theoretical lenses (gender, sexuality, Foucault, representation, phenomenology, Mulvey, what have you) with which to critically view dance and dance making…turns out I like a lot less dance. It’s difficult at times to remove myself from this critical stance and enjoy a show on other merits- I can’t stop watching dance as a revelation of the creator’s personal (yet culturally and socially constructed) worldview- regardless of genre I see unspoken cultural appropriation, gender assumptions being re-inscribed blindly, concert dance being dumb not because the participants are not intelligent people but because of what the whole dance construct doesn’t realize it’s saying about itself. Sorry Mark- apparently not everyone has read the memo about dance theory.
In the midst of this frustrated disillusionment, I try to stay mindful of my disparaging eye and tongue. I am not making much of anything right now-how can I judge if I don’t participate in the creation of dance that speaks to Franko’s so-called newly theoretically aware era? Easier said than done, eh? Ironically because of my desire to be a dancer unfettered by the financial and logistical shackles of producing my own work, I am dependent on others to give me any opportunity to embody a worldview I more or less agree with. I stay quiet and take class- everything from ballet to contact improvisation- with the hope that I can intellectually and physically glean that which serves my emergent (and hopefully self-aware) worldview.
So right now, dear Mark Franko, MY dance in the aftermath of theory doesn’t look like much besides more observation and commentary, but I’m starting to get my bearings; I’m drawing up blueprints that could address the rubble from my particular vantage point. Sometime soon here I’m going to have to render a response of my own…”

Jennifer (faculty UI, member of The Architects):

“embodied self? And get as mad as you want. Sometimes it helps. Especially if there is rubble involved… In other news, patience and observation are fabulous. Do it. But also don’t wait for the perfect moment to begin (it never comes).

In other news, I love your presence as a performer I am happy you are still working on that. I also want to remind you that the dances you made in Choreo 4, especially the one with the balloons and the german text sound score, were fascinating, and when I think about the work that has annoyed ME in every theatre, I propose that your work is far less less lessss annoying and even quite watch-able and should find its way in front of other peoples’ eyes at some point as mentioned in earlier facebook-type-messages…. “

Rain (also MA dance from UI):

“It is only by imagining a shift that the shift can become a reality. You are already part of that shift. Franko may have made the call too early, but that does not mean we are not on our way.”

Sydnie (another MA dance from UI):

“Elizabeth, I encourage you not to feel bound by all the theoretical and historical lenses you’ve acquired in the past few years. Personally, I can’t enough of the theoretical lenses to apply to everything I see and do and make. Knowledge for me is more freeing – it makes my choices more deliberate.

Like you, “I am dependent on others to give me any opportunity to embody a worldview I more or less agree with.” But at the end of the day I’m so happy to be dancing, it is all that really matters.

Don’t downplay your observation, commentary and participation in others’ worldviews. It’ll make your voice all the more clearer….”

and me (BA dance UI):

“I too am struggling to find dance that inspires and challenges me while watching in NY. Too many times have I left the theater space feeling unimpressed, dejected, and truthfully, many times, enraged. What are these people making? Why did the dancemaking of my colleagues at Iowa make so much more sense to me than the dancemaking of the so-called professionals? What gets this garbage on stage and why can’t I find that access for my own work? (Not that I’ve poured much of my energy into that endeavor yet, mind you.)

Dances seem formless, constructed for aesthetic reasons rather than social/political ones. And if that’s a socio-political statement of its own — dance needs no motivation other than movement itself a la Merce — than why do I dance? Yes, I dance because it feels amazing, but I always thought there was so much more in that medium, so much that can be communicated through movement that cannot otherwise be expressed accurately/clearly/viscera

When I hit the last thirty pages or so, I start growing sappy. Holding the book more tightly; hugging it in close to my chest. Smushing my back more fully into the pillows behind me. Smelling the pages and feeling the paper more intently under the pads of my fingers. I start worrying about reaching that last sentence. What will I do with my time, with myself, when I’m no longer reading this book? How will I ever feel this connected to the page again?

And it’s true. That kind of intense connection is difficult to find. It’s a rare experience — that kind of urgent emotional engagement with a book. It’s not illimitable, because once the cover is closed, it fades with time.

I still have fond memories of the other books I’ve loved, of course. Most of which seem to reside in the fiction section of bookstores and libraries, surprising since I’ve been on such a nonfiction kick since the end of high school. Steinbeck’s East of Eden, Hugo’s Les Miserables, Niffenegger’s The Time Traveler’s Wife, Gilbert’s Eat Pray Love, Milne’s Winnie the Pooh, Rowling’s Harry Potter (especially and the Deathly Hallows). But while I’ll comment upon these with a contented sigh and my palm resting nostalgically atop my sternum, I won’t relive the same rush of adrenaline and clamoring of tears and smiles as I did while I first read them.

It’s staggeringly pleasant to find yourself so swept up in a book that you ignore your phone and computer and postpone your workout and your dinner. That you want to bury yourself in its pages and avoid talking to anyone, but you want to inform everyone of how wonderful life is with this book in it. There’s an immediate need to shout its praises but also a small selfish fraction of yourself that knows no one else could possibly feel the same way you do about this particular passage. You want to sing and cry and dance and laugh, hug the author, write a thank you, skip down the street in the sunshine.

And by you I mean me.

And perhaps you. If that small selfish fraction of myself is wrong and you can feel it too.

What is the latest book to reside in the “gosh I absolutely love this book” category? Jonathan Safran Foer’s Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close. I realize that everyone else in the world has read Everything is Illuminated and that I am years behind in singing this author’s praises, but I was wrapped up in my nonfiction and my academic texts for so long I am quite behind in my reading for not-only-fun-but-for-life-changing-bursts-of-energy-that-shoot-from-the-pages-and-resonate-deep-in-my-bones reading. I’m doing my best to catch up.

Because I am mourning the loss of my dear friend, the book, as I finished it a mere two hours ago, I do not wish to take this time to write a lengthy and detailed review of its contents. I only wish to share that many passages struck me as so true and so tender that I tried my best to photograph them on the page to store in my mind as my eyes blurred with “gosh, i am so overwhelmed by how wonderful this is” tears.

I hope that all of you have felt overwhelmed by some kind of love of something or someone today. If not, find it. Lose yourself in it. At least for a while.