When was the last time you called in sick for work or school? If you’re drawing a blank, don’t worry, I can help out; just stop by a certain office on Ford Avenue, stand within two feet of yours truly and let me sneeze non-stop for half an hour. There, that should give you at least two days of excused paid leave, with a side of nasal congestion.
Last week, I came down with a particularly rough cold and thus found it difficult to organize my thoughts for a column. While downing regular doses of DayQuil, I bitterly wondered if my illness was divine punishment for cheering on the cooler weather too gleefully. Because everyone knows when fall arrives, so do all the sniffles and sneezes, the coughs and croaks, as well as the headaches, both real and metaphorical.
One such headache I had was whether or not to complain to my mom for putting a chopped red onion on my bedside table as a way to cure me. Not sure where this idea originated from; old wives’ tales and all that. My mom explained as such when I asked, saying things about “clearing the air” and “equilibrium”, phrases that could also describe passing gas, or an episode of Maury. Over the weekend, seeing the onion submerged in a jar of vinegar next to my overflowing stack of books I’ve haven’t read yet made me feel like a mad scientist doing an odd experiment of sorts, related to dissections and sandwich toppings.
Did it work? Who knows. But the onion did, in fact, alert me to when my sense of smell started working again. For that I am grateful. Almost brings a tear to my eye, thinking about it.
Books without millions
Growing up, I was a voracious reader, a phrase which here means “quiet child with nothing better to do”. Books were my constant companion during my 2000s latchkey kid era; authors such as L.M. Montgomery, Mary Pope Osborne, Lemony Snicket (!!!), Rick Riordan, Christopher Paolini, Suzanne Collins, John Green, Elizabeth Wein, and Benjamin Alire Sáenz kept me company while my mom cleaned classrooms during the school year and over the summer break. I visited my local library regularly, so my family never had to break the bank on buying books, plus secondhand stores like Goodwill also had great finds at a fair price. Sometimes teachers at my mom’s school would give her books that they thought I would like as well. It takes a village to raise a managing editor, and I am forever thankful for all the books I’ve been given a chance to read as a child and teenager, despite not having much at times.
Book clubbing
In Athens, my love of literature morphed into a way to impress people I thought were much cooler than me. As a shy college freshman, I attended a few meetings hosted by Stillpoint Literary Magazine, an undergraduate art and writing magazine, on campus. From there I got roped into being part of the club’s reviewing process, debating with stylishly-dressed English majors from Atlanta’s suburbs and the Northeast on what submissions to include in the publication that spring.
So, between sips of hot chocolate from Jittery Joe’s, I did my best to seem as cultured as them, chiming in with vague yet probing critiques of student writings when necessary. I’d like to think it worked; my high school, if nothing else, gave me a rounded English Literature education to fall back on, with my teachers covering everything from Shakespeare’s plays to Susan Sontag, Homer’s Odyssey to Shirley Jackson’s The Haunting of Hill House in my four years of attendance. All while I was stuck wearing plaid skirts, starchy Oxford button-downs and Clarks shoes from August to May each year (the steep price of Catholic school, on top of tuition).
Now as a slightly less timid, slightly better-dressed adult, I have belatedly realized that books are now a way to make new friends. According to my intrepid reporter Lucille Lannigan, book clubs are apparently all the rage in Savannah, with book club groups of varying degrees of structure offering attendees a chance to bond over lively discussions of literature every month or so, sometimes with a glass of wine (or a can of Classic City Lager) in hand. It’s like a grown-up after-school hangout for folks who miss collecting points from the Accelerated Reader program.
In the near future, I aim to join one of these book clubs and write about them for my columns. Hopefully they’re as exciting and delightfully weird as Lucy described them as. Either way, let’s give a toast to ordinary Americans attempting to end the national literacy crisis. Sláinte!
Andrea Gutierrez is the editor of the Bryan County News. She is currently reading “Exciting Times” by Naoise Dolan.