What local authors read when lights go out
Hurricanes aren’t all bad. They replenish dunes, clear out dead wood to make way for new growth and provide game-changing photo opportunities for politicians.
And if the power has to go out, look on the bright side of the dark side: At least we have time to read.
“It’s such a luxury these days for me to be able to sink into a book,” says Lisa Roney, author of “Sweet Invisible Body: Reflections on a Life With Diabetes.” The University of Central Florida professor’s reading time is taken by student papers and submissions to the school’s Florida Review literary magazine.
Like all aspects of a hurricane, one must approach the end of regularly scheduled entertainment with a plan.
“My life is constant interruption,” says the Pennsylvania transplant, “so I always have a lot of books on my list that have been there for a while. Like a sick day, badweather days allow me to get to those.”
To help one “feel more Floridian,” Roney offers: “How Small, Confronting Morning” by Lola Haskins; Jennine Capo Crucet’s “Making Your Home Among Strangers;” and “Other Orlandos,” a recent anthology from local publisher Burrow Press.
I’d throw in Patrick Smith’s classic “A Land Remembered,” but I might skip the section on the ’cane of 1928.
Former U.S. poet laureate Billy Collins is reading “The Handmaid’s Tale” and suggests that Margaret Atwood’s dystopian novel or something similar would be helpful for calming storm-induced anxiety. “It might be good to read about something that’s worse than a hurricane,” says the Winter Park resident.
If you’re hunkering with friends and you still don’t think you’d be able to finish a game of Risk, both writers suggest sharing poetry. Collins offers dipping into the works of John Ashbery, who won a Pulitzer Prize for the collection “SelfPortrait in a Convex Mirror” in 1976. “Even though you might not understand it, the perplexity might at least distract you,” says Collins.
So with some concerts and theater shows canceled and a busy season of storms ahead, reading is one way to keep some culture when the A/C vanishes. Me? I’ve got a three-month comic-book backlog and a collection of ghost stories just begging for some candlelight.