January Reading

Equal by Carrie Gracie (Virago Press 2019)
When Gracie discovered that, despite an agreement to be paid the same for her job as China correspondent for the BBC, as the male North America correspondent, she was paid far, far less, she decided to take action. It was not that she wanted more money, she 'just' wanted to be treated equally, as a sign that she was properly valued by her employers She loves the BBC, has worked there for 30 years, but she wanted them to treat women equally. The more she investigated, the more she saw how pervasive the inequality was. The book tells the story of her personal fight, and also a huge amount of information from all over the world.

For me, it was eye-opening in that I had never considered the wider and long-term issues of lower pay, such as the effect on retirement income because of superannuation (or in NZ, Kiwi Saver) being contribution based - not only are the lower paid women's contributions lower, but so too, in the case of Kiwi Saver, are the employer's contributions.

The book is very well written, enlightening, disturbing, and essential reading for everyone.

Unfollow: a journey from hatred to hope, leaving the Westboro Baptist Church by Megan Phelps-Roper
I found this book fascinating in a horrid way but also hope-inspiring. Megan was born into one of the most openly hate-filled churches I've ever heard of, and grew up totally believing in them. I had not realized that these were well-educated people, nor that the grandfather, who started the church, spent 30 years supporting Black civil rights as a lawyer. It had never occurred to me that someone like that could be filled with hatred for other groups, such as gays and Jews. It is very ugly reading.

But it was also one that fills me with hope: if, after 26 years of indoctrination and hatred, Megan could see through the lies and hatred, and leave the church and her family, and change, then there is hope in the world. A wonderful book that will make you question yourself and your beliefs, but also fill your heart with gratitude and hope.

Madness Made Me by Mary O'Hagan
I really connected with this book. I have spent decades living with depression, sometimes very deep, suicidal depression. A couple of years after it started, I worked several university holidays at Tokanui Psychiatric Hospital, just 4-5 years before Mary started university in Dunedin, and first entered a psychiatric institution. The book brought memories of both my depression, and my horror at how patients fellow human beings were treated. The first time I became depressed, at age 16, my mother took me to a GP who told me to "stop being so selfish, upsetting my mother, and pull yourself together or I'll send you to Tokanui and I'll make sure you get electric shock treatment." So, to all appearances, I did just that. I was terrified of shock treatment, and a couple of years later when I worked there, my terror increased as I saw how it affected patients people, and also how it was used as a threat and as a punishment. As a result, I didn't seek any help for my  madness until over 40 years later. Reading this book makes me grateful for that!

The book examines the very concept of madness, the dehumanizing of people, the politics of it, the inadequate and often unscientific and or abusive treatments, and most of all, the failure of anyone to listen to and respond appropriately to people who are different. Because of my own personal experiences as a sometimes mad person, and as a nurse aid, I was surprised by little in this book, other than the enormity of it when put together clearly in one place.

Absolutely worth reading.


Wow - three brilliant books this month! (Plus a novel that was slightly amusing but I've forgotten it already.)

The Older Generation.

Three of my grandparents died
before I was old enough
to make memories.
The fourth, I saw rarely,
and remember
as very deaf,
blind in one eye,
short and bald,
and not having a lot to say
to a small girl.

My father died when I was 36
followed by my mother
nine months later
on New Year's Eve
when I was 37.
I started 1989
an orphan.

One by one
the uncles and aunts
joined my parents
and grandparents
and the greats and great greats
until the last death
left me the hereditary title:
The Older Generation.

Change

It's typical end-of-March weather:
the bones of the surrounding hills
are dried tinder-brown
by the hot winds;
the hens
are going off the lay;
and the clay bank behind the shed
is cracking wide enough
to swallow rats.

I'm ready for the cooler days
and winter rains
that arrive with April.

But....

it's only January 26.

Summer Evening

the windmills

face south

almost still,

the twilight

turning them

pale lavender-pink

to match the eastern sky

in the west

the sun has gone down

and the pink is more yellow

the kereru takes a 

last bedtime snack

of tagasaste leaves

and the Australians*

screech like

argumentative teens

as they settle for the night

in the highest branches

* the Australians = sulfur-crested cockatoos