The Secret Scripture

I love it when a something within the first paragraph or two of a story takes hold of me right from the start. I am caught up immediately wanting to dive in.

"Roseanne’s Testimony of Herself
(Patient Roscommon Regional Mental Hospital, 1957- )

The world begins anew with every birth, my father used to say. He forgot to say, with every death it ends. Or did not think he needed to. Because for a goodly part of his life he worked in a graveyard."

Sebastian Barry’s novel, The Secret Scripture is the story of Roseanne McNulty, a 100year old patient in a decaying Irish mental hospital which is slated to be torn down. Realizing her advanced age and the possibility she will not live much longer, she sets out to write a record of her life as clearly as she can recall it. While Roseanne remembers and secretly documents her history stashing pages in the floorboards of her room, Dr. William Grene is charged with the task of assessing each of the patients under his care to determine if they are fit for reintegration to society. Gently probing Roseanne for any detail which might help him understand why she was committed to Sligo Mental Hospital some 40 years previously, Dr. Grene gets nowhere. With an edict from the Department of Health looming, determined to do right by Roseanne, he tries to figure out who this seemingly frail aged beauty is and what happened to her.

This story unfolds in the form of journal entries from them both; Dr. Grene’s notebook where he frets over Roseanne, castigates and psychoanalyzes himself as much for his lack psychiatric prowess as his own dysfunctional personal life; and Roseanne’s spidery hand of blue biro written sheets of secret testimony - her life beginning as a young girl in County Sligo during a time of political upheaval and turmoil in Ireland’s history.

"Sligo made me and Sligo undid me, but then I should have given up much sooner than I did being made or undone by human towns, and looked to myself alone. The terror and hurt in my story happened because when I was young I thought others were the authors of my fortune or misfortune; I did not know that a person could hold up a wall made of imaginary bricks and mortar against the horrors and cruel, dark tricks of time that assail us, and be the author therefore of themselves."

To be the author of oneself. There is something strong and resilient in that and so I dove in.

Barry has written a lovely and stirring tale. His language is poetic and expressive. I found myself rereading sentences just to enjoy the beauty of the way he has phrased things. He’s a wonderfully gifted author. There’s no shortage of awards and accolades which have been bestowed on Barry for this book too. But for the reader, our reward is a moving poetically masterful narrative of love and betrayal and the power that religion and the politics of the day played in the lives of some in rural Ireland.

I was going to end my blog entry there. But one more thing is still needling at me.

I was struck at one point in reading The Secret Scripture that Dr. Grene appeared to be attributing too charitable an attitude to those who had a hand in Roseanne’s history, ascribing the perspective that they did what they believed their faith dictated them to do at the time. As a modern woman living in 2009, these actions seemed atrocious to me.

As a preface to this book, the author includes a reference to a quote from the preface of Maria Edgeworth’s book Castle Rackrent. I haven’t read this work, but am intrigued by what I have read about it. If what I understand is true, it was written in 1800, and is considered one of the first good examples of narration from a point of view contrary to the actual players in the story. In this case, a slave to a wealthy landowner and family.

“Of the numbers who study, or at least read history, how few derive any advantage from their labours!... Besides, there is much uncertainty even in the best authenticated ancient and modern histories; and that love of truth, which in some minds is innate and immutable, necessarily leads to a love of secret memoirs and private anecdotes.”

I wonder now, having just considered this preface, that perhaps perspective and point of view do factor in here in a more significant manner than I originally considered. My natural, albeit arrogant, inclination is to believe that some things are simply right and some wrong. Taking Barry’s careful prefaced selection here and Dr. Grene’s attitude into consideration, I see compassion and understanding - that each of us is often caught up in things bigger than ourselves. History is written and rewritten over time again and again from various points of view. I take away here that the best we can do in any given moment is to own our own stories and live as truly as we know how.

The Beauty Myth

I am nothing if not resilient. It’s actually, I think, one of my best qualities. That is not to say that I don’t also have many annoying and quirky things about my personality too. But, the ability to bounce back, to keep on going is most certainly a shining star in the constellation of my characteristics. Wallowing, getting mired down in a rut doesn’t suit me. Perhaps it’s the short attention span, who knows. As I strive to lose weight this is an advantage. No matter how far back I fall, I refuse to accept that I cannot drop these pounds. My last lapse pissed me off royally. I worked hard for those 6 lbs. To undo that effort in a week of socializing was more than irritating. Back on track and eerily exactly on schedule for my one pound per week goal, I have again arrived at the 6lbs I achieved a few weeks ago. I know this process will have its ups and downs. I am trying here to affect some lasting change, not just drop some weight to fit into a dress or bathing suit.

I’ve been talking with many people these past weeks about weight and body image. Motivation to lose weight is a personal thing. For me, this has nothing at all to do with how I look to myself or others, but more about how I feel about me.

Beauty, as a measure of one’s worth is an interesting concept. It is natural, I think, to be drawn to beautiful people and things. Vibrantly coloured paintings, puppies, sunsets, water lilies are all very attractive. Yet, notions of the physical beauty of people confound me. I get that some of this is carnal. I am not immune to ripped abs, a killer smile or nice round butt. But, the idea that one form of beauty is superior to another is surely flawed. Further, that one person can be considered beautiful merely by the way they look seems ridiculous.

I long ago made peace with my body in terms of what it will and won’t look like. My curly hair will always be a bit wild. My skin will never be golden or tanned, rather pale. My hips will always be curvy. I will never be tall and I will always have short fingers. Nonetheless, from my point of view, I think I am attractive and cannot imagine that image of myself changing.

Too much attention is paid I believe to the outer image of a person, missing entirely the importance of things like character, intelligence and heart. What lies within us, as Emerson said, is the stuff that matters. And in contemplating that, I come to the real motivator for my losing weight. I must do this simply because I promised myself I would. Because pushing myself to achieve something that is difficult is important for me as a person. My rubenesque body will not be whittled down into a skinny shadow of itself. (God forbid I would lose my rack!) Rather, I hope it to be trimmed slightly to a healthier version of the same old me. Still curvy, still short and still beautiful.

So here goes: 50 in 50! Breathe in and begin...

Hello world. MB here. I'll save the intros for later as this first post will be uncharacteristically brief. Not wanting to procrastinate any longer, today's the day. Diving straight in with little knowledge of blogdom, but having spent most of my adult life writing and chronicling in one form or another, I felt it was time to get out there. To muse, write, philosophize, rant, babble, ponder, gab, and well, just simply communicate.

At almost 46 (leaning towards 50 as the header goes) and realizing the passage of time, I've hatched a plan for the coming year. A project of sorts. A challenge for myself. So here's the subplot. Its fairly simple and the rules are straight forward enough. 50 books, 50 pounds in 50 weeks. Give or take. Ideas, stories, knowledge and points of view in..... bulk, weight, heft out. A book and a pound a week.

I've amassed a list of 35 definite reads for the year. A sampling of modern, classic and curious reads. The remaining 15 I'll figure out as as I go. I've got no gimmacky weight loss plan, just a sincere desire to do that thing which I have, til now, thought I could not do.

With an at times cripplingly short attention span, a love of chocolate, a wide social circle of foodies and wine drinking buddies, a love of words and books and ideas, a job at times fun and challenging and otherwise maddeningly invasive and an adorable but active 85 lb lab named Murphy who keeps me on the go, it should be an interesting year, if nothing else.

And so.... here goes!