Laura Berry – Snopes

Where’s the Merit in Magazines?

Laura Berry

If you’re like my father, you read a lot of magazines. It’s one of my dad’s many endearing traits, one that I’ve even tried to emulate. That’s not to say a magazine is a comparable substitute for a good book. In high school, it used to rattle my bones when someone responded to “what’s your favorite book?” with, “do magazines count?” Unfortunately, I am not making this up. That being said, I do think magazines can successfully fill in the gaps between books. They occupy breakfast time, subway commutes, and grueling minutes spent in waiting rooms. You can even cut them up once they become stale and make collages!

Despite Dad’s ridiculous number of magazines, my collage activities have never gone over well with him. He has multiple stacks that have reached impressive heights (the one in our guest bathroom now reaches my knees). They’re on his nightstand, in the dusty corners of his office, on the kitchen table, and in the back seat of his truck, but the suggestion of downsizing sends him into a tirade. Even more impressive is the variation in titles—The New Yorker, Money, Vanity Fair, Garden and Gun, Vogue, and Conde Nast Traveler, just to name a few. I know most people have a favorite, but at what point do you stop trying to cover all the bases?

Dad’s casual attire usually involves frayed jeans and a red L.L. Bean pullover from 1997, so I have questioned his loyalty to Vogue—does he really need a subscription to a magazine celebrating high fashion? His response—“there are some really interesting articles in there.” I can better understand Money for its practical implications, despite being quite literally the most boring thing I’ve ever picked up. Vanity Fair connects him to pop culture without having to endure a Keeping Up With The Kardashians marathon (I have no problem with this because I am disturbed by the prospect of my father watching the Kardashians). The New Yorker, the most consistent of his subscriptions (we have issues that survived my toddler years), keeps him intellectually sharp. Traveller is so he can visit exotic places in a more realistic timeframe, and Garden and Gun is so he can stay home. He likes the articles about people who love their dogs almost as much as he loves our Jack Russell/Cavalier King Charles mix, Russ. Russ prefers his dinner slathered in gravy and has his own seatbelt. Unlike my dad, he has several sweaters.

I laugh at his affinity for such an assortment of magazines, but let’s look at the bigger picture. My dad, like all of you, is a complex human being with a variety of interests. He has no desire to brand himself with titles. I have learned that this isn’t an excuse to read “trash,” but it is a lesson in broadening the scope of what I read. Why should my dad feel ashamed to pick up Vogue to read about what he’s unfamiliar with (he does live in rural Virginia, after all), and why should I feel out of place reading Money magazine? Variety and accessibility are where I find merit in magazines, and while my dad might never feel totally comfortable in New York City, he feels right at home reading The New Yorker.

What are your favorite magazines? Does anyone else have a magazine collection to rival my father’s?

Laura Berry is a senior English major and Poverty Studies minor at Washington and Lee. She is from Madison County, VA, where she spends most of her time with her dog, Russ.

The Significant Author

Laura Berry

By Elise Petracca

Let’s explore loyalty with authors. Have you ever thought about “author loyalty”? Is there one author you read again and again, an author who never fails to make you laugh or think, “Yes! Someone actually gets me!” ? I have read every single one of David Sedaris’ books, and I have long awaited the chance to read his most recent collection of essays, Let’s Explore Diabetes with Owls. Upon starting this new book, I quickly realized how much I have missed his outlandish anecdotes, conversational style, and quirky habits. I have hardly put it down since I pressed “purchase” on my Kindle. I feel like I’m catching up with an old friend.

I had never considered the concept of “author loyalty” until I began Sedaris’s most recent book. As I picked it up, it occurred to me that I am likely not the only person who does this. I asked my friends if they have one particular author whose books they read habitually, and they all responded immediately with their go-to author. Their answers included Andrew Clements, Pat Conroy, Ken Kesey, and Tom Wolfe. It doesn’t matter who it is, a favorite author is as cherished as a childhood friendship.

I realize that I have had these loyalties all of my life. When I was in elementary school, it was Kate DiCamillo. In middle school, it was Lurlene McDaniel. By high school, I had convinced myself I didn’t have time to read books for fun, until I was given Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim, and then it became David Sedaris. His style is colloquial but his stories are far from typical. He brings freshness to storytelling by humor and self-deprecation that entices his readers, making us want to know more. When reading Sedaris’s stories, I find myself next to him, strolling the streets of Paris or visiting his childhood home in North Carolina. His vivid descriptions and realistic dialogue take me wherever he goes. Not only do I feel like I know him personally, but also his family, his friends, and his longtime partner, Hugh.

Sedaris is the second of six children, and I am the youngest of five. I have to wonder if our shared experience of having a large, dysfunctional family is what allows me to relate to him. His writing inspires my own; my stories, whether fiction or fact, are often based on my own family. Even when my siblings bring me to the end of my wits, I wouldn’t give them up for anything. Plus, they make for pretty entertaining characters, as Sedaris has realized.

I continue to read his books for thepain I get in my side from laughing so hard. I remember reading Me Talk Pretty One Day on a plane to Florida. I was sitting in an aisle seat and two men gave me looks to suggest they didn’t appreciate my audible snickering. The emotions his writings evoke are so real that they’re impossible to stifle, even when it’s discourteous to those around you.

What drew you to your favorite author in the first place? And what makes you continue to go back? Is it the alternate reality he or she creates for you, or the ab workout you get from laughing so hard? What do you look for in a significant author? I urge you, dedicated readers, to revisit your favorite writers. Read a book by him or her you haven’t read yet, or if you’ve read them all, reread one. There’s a comfort in the words of a favorite author, even if you already know what is going to be said.

Laura Berry is a senior English major and Poverty Studies minor at Washington and Lee. She is from Madison County, VA, where she spends most of her time with her dog, Russ.

Do Feelings Speak Louder Than Words?

Laura Berry

The sum of my failed attempts at writing stories is far greater than my number of years on this earth. But I assure you, it’s not for lack of trying. I’ve certainly felt moved to write stories on various occasions—happy, tragic, confusing, exciting—only to find that I eventually lose my focus. I’ve had an extremely difficult time figuring out the science, embarking on writing a short story only to find that my idea is much more extensive than the allotted number of pages, or deciding to write a longer story and losing momentum early on. I seem to be more successful with poems. When I imagine the beginning of a poem, I am usually able to envision the ending as well. For this reason, poems are an easier way for me to express emotions, an easier way to encapsulate a feeling without trying to represent it through the lens of a plot. When I read, I am searching for something raw. More often than not, I am able to find this in poems and better able to recreate it through poetry.

Last fall, I was introduced to Natalie Diaz, a Native American poet of the Mojave and Pima tribes. I fell in love with her poetry. Apart from writing beautifully, Natalie Diaz is honest and reflective, using words as vehicles to express the emotions generated by her traumatic experiences. Her book When My Brother Was an Aztec is a collection of poems centrally focused on her relationship with her brother, a drug addict, as well as her family’s struggle with poverty. Rather than telling the story of her brother’s addiction through one specific narrative voice, Diaz writes poems that simulate photographs, capturing moments that have made an impression on her. When I read her poetry, I feel like I’m reading the pages of her diary.

In “How to Go to Dinner with a Brother on Drugs,” Diaz describes taking her brother out to dinner, an event that is really more of a complicated process than a recreational activity. The tenth stanza reads: “Not long ago,/your brother lived with you./You called it, One last shot, a three-quarter-court/heave, a buzzer-beater to win something of him back./But who were you kidding? You took him in/with no grand dreams of salvation, but only to ease/the guilt of never having tried.” The last two lines of the stanza are so poignant. I’m struck by Diaz’s honesty, her admission that she “took him in” to relieve her own guilt rather than try to save him. I admire the clarity of her confession more than a stanza full of beautiful metaphors.

Diaz’s reasoning for taking her brother in, while expressed simply, is complexly human. It captures her internal moral struggle as well as an articulate sense of herself. Am I on to something here? Do you agree that the best poetry directly addresses emotions, or does it use metaphor to depict them? Do you prefer poems that maintain elusive representations of emotions and focus on language? No matter your preference, I encourage you all to explore Natalie Diaz’s poetry. She’s sure not to disappoint!

Laura Berry is a senior English major and Poverty Studies minor at Washington and Lee. She is from Madison County, VA, where she spends most of her time with her dog, Russ.