An old year new year's letter
Dear friends,
It’s too late to say this is a new year’s letter, but that’s what this is.
Hello to you all! So grateful to be with you on the other side of whatever 2022 was all about!!!!
I’ve loved hearing from many of you about your experiences of reading Our Red Book. I forgot the ways that making a book is—in addition to the huge task of making the thing—also a chance to reconnect with seemingly everyone you’ve ever met. And that has been a joy.
We’ll be reading and talking about menstruation and oral history in two weeks up at Bard. Hudson Valley friends, I’d love to see you! RSVP (it’s free) here!
In other nice news, excerpts from Our Red Book were featured in the Guardian’s weekend magazine and in this month’s issue of Harper’s Magazine! If you don’t have the book, this is a nice little preview.
Otherwise, what has happened. I’ve started another newsletter, this one for reviews that reject the premise of reviews, written with my friend Merkel. If this kind of weird thing interests you, check it out!
I’ve been spending more time in New Haven now that I’ve been teaching creative nonfiction writing at Yale. I made the big move (for me!) to stop staying in my childhood bedroom on the days that I teach and instead to rent a place with friends my own age. It was too much psychoanalytic work to rummage through my high school clothing looking for a clean shirt, and then to quickly transition back to the age that I am and teach young people whose age I am not!!!
Living here has its pleasures. At least once a day, I try to take a walk to the mountain by my apartment. I am humbled by the in-depth reportage of the local newspaper. I enjoy running into my high school classmates’ dads, out walking their dogs on my block or at the store buying a banana.
Sending you tardy new year’s love,
Rachel