The Lens of Eternity in Sinister Wisdom: #lgbt #BereniceAbbott #amreading #writingcommunity

The lens of eternity: lesbian love from two pandemics

This is Janet Mason reading from my memoir in progress, which was excerpted in the journal Sinister Wisdom, A Multicultural Lesbian Literary & Art Journal, issue 132. This is part of the essay that was published.

And so, the days, as they are wont to do, wore on.

Berenice Abbott’s position ended at the end of the decade when the Works Progress Administration was disbanded at the end of the 1930s.

A few years earlier, Berenice and her long-time partner Elizabeth McCausland had lobbied for continued funding for the WPA and the Federal Arts Project (which was under the WPA, and which employed Berenice among others). Elizabeth, a journalist and the writer of the text of books that contained Berenice’s photographs, wrote in the Nation: 

“The Renaissance lasted three centuries, the Age of Pericles and the Augustan Age each half a century; for the ‘cultural birth of a nation’ our government allows less than two years.”

…

Nonetheless, a few years later, at the end of the decade of the thirties, a new Congress voted down a bill that would’ve provided permanent funding and existing funding ran dry.”

Berenice’s days of hanging on rickety fire escapes and out of windows (regardless of how much she had loved them) to get the photograph were over.

Berenice survived the influenza pandemic in 1918 when she lived in Greenwich Village in Manhattan. Then she lived in Paris where she became a photographer and gained a reputation as a master of the craft. In Paris, she also met the older photographer Eugene Atget and when he died in 1927, she bought most of his archive and returned to live in Manhattan where she intended to sell the archive. She also returned because she was disillusioned with the café society in Paris and nostalgic for the United States. Berenice returned to live in Manhattan in 1929. In six years, in 1935, she met Elizabeth. After a whirlwind long-distance courtship, the two of them were together for three decades until Elizabeth’s death when she was sixty-five. Berenice, who lived into her nineties and was to experience “success” in the form of fame and relative fortune for the first time at age seventy, then moved to the wilds of Maine for the last part of her life after the death of her long-time partner, Elizabeth.

Despite Berenice and Elizabeth being sickly all their lives, they kept on going.

Thanks to the Works Progress Administration, Berenice survived the Great Depression by finding work with the government for photographing and documenting the country during this era. And thanks to Berenice, the grand buildings of New York City in the 1930s had been preserved in her photographs for posterity.

As part of her New York City photographs (funded by the Works Progress Administration), Berenice photographed Pennsylvania Station in 1936. My first impression when I viewed the photograph titled simply “Pennsylvania Station” was that of the grandeur of light, simplicity, and beauty. Before it was demolished and “renovated,” Pennsylvania Station was a work of art. High airy arches — a lattice of steel and glass — let in the light connecting the terminal to the heavens. In the photograph, the natural light filtered down to the circular illuminated face of a towering old-fashioned clock that looked like a grandfather clock made of stone. Clusters of globe lights lit the way down the steep stairs to the train platforms.

Pennsylvania Station was torn down and remodeled in 1963. Since then, the station was almost all underground and it was remarkably unattractive. Berenice called its remodeling a “wicked” act.

When Berenice was cut from her job, she said, “The WPA knocked New York out of me.”

What that meant for Berenice – at least temporarily – was that she was done photographing New York.

What that meant for the rest of us was that there were no more Berenice Abbott photographs of Manhattan until a decade later when Berenice found a publisher for a book of her photographs about her neighborhood. Greenwich Village Today and Yesterday was published in 1949 by Harper & Brothers (now an imprint of HarperCollins).

At the end of the thirties, when funding ran dry from the WPA, and with her fortieth birthday approaching, Berenice reinvented herself.

Berenice Abbott was, perhaps, best known for her photographs of New York City. Many knew her as the photographer who did Changing New York and who lived in Paris in the twenties and got her start as Man Ray’s photographic assistant.

Berenice printed her own photographs into her mid-eighties. That she was so diligent in her work of printing in the darkroom (the importance of which she imparted to her students), no doubt contributed to her success and is something that could be traced back to her work assisting Man Ray.

All her life, Berenice took herself and her discipline seriously.

As Hank O’Neal says in Berenice Abbott American Photographer (a book of Berenice’s photographs published in 1982 by McGraw Hill with text approved by Berenice when she was in her mid-eighties. Hank, who was a close friend of Berenice’s, writes, “She does not regard one part of her work as any more significant than another, and she feels that sentimental judgments based on nostalgia miss the point altogether. Her point was graphically to capture the times – to make a record, in as artistic a fashion as possible, that would be of use to historians, sociologists and even art critics.”

But things weren’t over yet.

….

This is Janet Mason reading from my memoir in progress The lens of eternity: queer love from two pandemics, which was excerpted and published in the journal Sinister Wisdom, A Multicultural Lesbian Literary & Art Journal, issue 132.

This reading is featured on YouTube and Spotify.

To read a different published piece of The Lens of Eternity, click here:

New memoir debuted in aaduna — #amreading #diversity | Janet Mason, author (wordpress.com)

One of the things that I love about being a writer is being a part of a writing community. I was delighted to learn that my essay was in the same issue of Sinister Wisdom as my long time friend Kathy Anderson is in. Kathy is holding the issue of Sinister Wisdom.

For information on my novel Loving Artemis click here

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Needing to tell the story — #IHeartSapphFic interviews me about Loving Artemis #LGBT #LesFic #Amreading

I wanted to share this interview with you which was recently posted by IHeartSapphFiction. You can link to the site

Author Interview: Janet Mason Chats about Loving Artemis

Apr 11, 2024 | AUTHOR INTERVIEW

Get ready to learn more about the book Loving Artemis in this discussion with sapphic author Janet Mason.

Join us for an exclusive peek behind the scenes as we quiz Janet Mason about Loving Artemis, writing, reading, and more.

This book is part of the Addiction category in the 2024 IHS Reading Challenge.

---

Why did you write Loving Artemis?

I wrote this novel to tell some of the untold stories from my youth. I grew up in a rough-and-tumble working-class tract house area, so there were quite a few stories there. I worked on the novel for a long time, and the story evolved to the theme of marriage equality and the historical events that happened in the backdrop of the teenage girls came together with the future passage of marriage equality. In that way the story is autobiographical, and the history is accurate. So, the timing happened to coincide with the legalization of marriage equality nationwide.

Who is your favorite character in the book?

My favorite character is the lead character Artemis. The events in Artemis’s life (including her brother and her love for motorcycles as well as her girlfriend Linda) turn her into a drug dealer and she gets caught goes to jail, gets released several years later, reunites with the love of her life, Linda, and in another couple of decades marries her legally (this was something she wished for when she was an adolescent). She gets caught and goes to jail which is different from my experience and from the other narrator, Grace, who is more academically oriented and is more like me.

What inspired the idea for Loving Artemis?

The inspiration came from my youth and my need to tell the stories.

What was the biggest challenge writing this book?

My biggest challenge in writing this came naturally–that was lesbianizing my youth. As I was telling a friend, I probably gave the girls (who were based on actual persons) that I probably gave my characters happier endings than they actually had! If you add the march of history, there are three happy endings at the close of Loving Artemis.

What part of Loving Artemis was the most fun to write?

The details of place from my youth were identical, including the motorcycle shop and the gold dome of the Greek Orthodox church in the writing — giving the work a strong sense of place.

How did you come up with the title for your book?

The book’s original title was Art which was short for Artemis. When I found a publisher, she wanted to title the book Loving Artemis. We had just buried a friend’s cat, named Artemis, in our backyard and I thought Artemis had brought me luck in finding the publisher, so the name change was fine with me.

How much research did you need to do for Loving Artemis?

I did a fair amount of research on the historic events–Shirley Chisholm running for President in 1972 being one of the events–that happened when the girls were teens. Some of the events were mentioned in a paper that Grace (one of the narrators) writes for her high school English class.

What is your favorite line from your book?

“Art fell into the universe that she and Linda made together.”

What is your writing process like?

The novel welled up in me and I wrote it. Basically, I had to. I let my characters tell me what they wanted to do.

Where do you usually write, and what do you need in your writing space to help you stay focused?

I write on my computer. As I recall, I wrote much of this novel on my laptop, when I was holed up in my bedroom and at the kitchen table in my yoga teacher’s house. When I’m working on something, I tend to be thinking about it most of the time. I wrote and rewrote this book for about seven years.

If you could spend a day with another popular author, whom would you choose?

I think I would pick Sappho or Emily Dickinson.

What’s your favorite writing snack or drink?

I love coffee–now with oat milk. Green tea works just as well. I think it’s the caffeine.

How do you celebrate when you finish your book?

I go for a walk and am extra happy!

Do you have a pet who helps/hinders your typing?

I usually have a cat. While I was working on this, I had a cat named Princess Sappho who used to sit on my lap. When she died and then her brother died, it was very sad but then our new cat, Peanut, came to us when she was about a year old, and we are head over heels about her. She’s usually in the window in my home office. I always imagine that I write better with a cat.

What animal or object best represents you as an author or your writing style?

I love Rilke’s Panther pacing around in his cage. I guess my head is the cage and the novel ideas are the panther.

What is the most valuable piece of advice you’ve been given about writing, and by whom?

“Write the HARD STORIES.” — Dorothy Allison. I found when I took this advice, I wrote the stories that made a difference. Probably, that’s what has kept me writing.

What has helped or hindered you most when writing a book?

I try to block out all outside negative voices. (Why bother writing? It’s so hard to find a publisher, etc) If writers listened to them, we wouldn’t have any books.

When you’re writing an emotional or difficult scene, how do you set the mood?

Sometimes I listen to music from the period that I am writing about.

What do you do to get inside your character’s heads?

I just start writing and then I’m there.

If you could be mentored by a famous author (living or not), who would it be?

Sappho. I love the idea of walking with her on the cliffs of Lesbos. (And I have been there and listened for her in the wind.)

What author in your genre do you most admire, and why?

I think I keep coming back to Sappho because she is known for putting herself in the poem, like Whitman. Also, I started out in my writing life as a poet and I think the rhythm of the language even when it’s in prose is what moves me.

Have you ever cried when writing an emotional scene?

I cry all the time when writing. In particular, I cried toward the end of Loving Artemis when Art is in prison and puts her hand against the glass mirroring Linda’s hand, pressed to the other side of the glass. Then at the end, when Art is in the New York Pride parade riding on her motorcycle and she meets up with Linda who is carrying a “just married” sign, I cried again!

Do you feel bad putting your characters through the wringer?

I did kill off Art’s brother because it fit the storyline and maybe because he was such a bad influence on her, I didn’t feel bad at all. I also didn’t get a thrill from it consciously at least. I just kept writing.

Have you ever hated one of your characters?

I’ve heard it said that a writer must love all her characters. I would say this is true, at least for the main characters.

Have you ever fallen in love with one of your characters?

Not consciously. But considering the amount of time a writer has to spend with her characters, maybe I have been in love with all of the main characters and just didn’t think about it.

What type of books do you enjoy reading the most?

I review books and tend to be most interested in LGBTQ books.

Are there any books or authors that inspired you to become a writer?

I’m coming back to Sappho again. She had the courage to be herself. That’s what writing does for me.

What books did you grow up reading?

I read, read, read. I read all of the books in the elementary school library. And the teachers were concerned about me. Seriously.

What books have you read more than once in your life?

I love mythology and reread things like Ovid and Homer. Also, Dante. I think I come back because I want to revisit where the story lives in my imagination.

What book do you wish you had written?

I don’t think I’ve ever read a book and wished I’d written it. I think I do the opposite. I write the books that need to be written.

Describe your favorite reading spot.

Often, I read in the car, while my partner goes shopping.

Do you only read books in one genre or do you genre hop?

I tend to find a story that grabs me, and don’t pay attention to the genre.

Have you ever thought you’d hate a book, but ended up loving it?

I don’t review books that I don’t like. And in the many years, I’ve been reviewing, there have only been a handful of books I couldn’t finish. Actually, come to think of it, when drugs and alcohol are obviously addictions and are portrayed favorably, it turns me off.

An Interview with sapphic author NAME | Find Your Next Sapphic Fiction Read (iheartsapphfic.com)

For more information on my most recent novel Loving Artemis, an endearing tale of revolution, love, and marriage, click here.

To read an excerpt from Loving Artemis, click here.

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’Dreadlocks”: remembering an important #lesbian poet #ToniBrown

(note: this essay I wrote and am reading excerpts from was originally published in Sinister Wisdom 76: the Open Issue—Summer 09)

I recorded the excerpt from the essay for YouTube below and the text is below that.

11/4/1952 – 4/19/2008

Portrait of a friendship: in memoriam

Toni P. Brown

A true friend is hard to lose. The loss is palpable — like some previously unknown core at the center of you is suddenly ripped out, howling and empty. This is how I felt when my good friend, Toni Brown, died on April 17th, 2008. She was 55 years old.

As her Philadelphia memorial service — standing room only at The Painted Bride Art Center — confirmed, Toni was many things to many people. She was a writer — of poetry and fiction, well known in the lesbian, the African American, and the larger literary communities; she was a writing teacher to college students; and she was a teacher and a mentor to the “at-risk” teenage girls that she worked with for the last ten years in her position as director of education, training, and outreach for Girls Inc.

Toni and I were close friends for nearly 20 years — we met several years before she moved to Philadelphia. At the time, she lived in Amherst Massachusetts and was a member of a Northampton lesbian writers group. We met through a mutual friend, who was in the Philadelphia feminist writers’ group with me, at the Outwrite Conference, an LGBT writing conference held, at that time, in Boston.

A year or so later, my Philadelphia writing group went to Northampton to give a reading. I stayed at Toni’s house in Amherst and took her large gentle German Shepherd, named Zen, for a walk. Zen led me into the garden at the Emily Dickinson house — where I made a reservation for the two writing groups, now one large group, at least for the duration of our stay.

I remember all of us sitting in the large, Victorian sitting room. The drapes were drawn and there was a hush surrounding the words of the tour guide who carefully left out any mention of Emily’s lesbian passions. We didn’t contradict her, but the room was bursting with our silence. Now, reflecting back on that afternoon, I see that there was something prophetic about it. We were surrounded by the ghostly presence of Emily Dickinson even as we laughed and posed for pictures. At the time that the pictures were taken, in the Dickinson garden, some 20 years ago, Toni had a short Afro. A year later when she moved to Philadelphia, she began locking her hair-always, it seemed, twisting the tiny nubs, until they grew down below her shoulders.

After Toni moved to Philadelphia — to be with the love of her life — the two of us became closer. We took Zen for long walks in the Wissahickon. “Zen, the dog,” as we called her, would chase sticks and squirrels, the occasional deer, as Toni and I walked and talked about our writing, our lives, our loves — walking and talking, talking about everything.

….

Toni came to Philadelphia to connect with her other identities. She was a Cave Canem poetry fellow in the years 1998, 1999, and 2,000. Cave Canem was begun in 1996 as a weeklong summer workshop/ retreat designed as a “safe haven” for black poets. Toni and I read together when she returned from one of these retreats — and in her poetic voice I heard a new level of sophistication, a continuing evolvement of her work that had the feeling of a gust of air under her wings. Consider her poem Dreadlocks (published in “Gathering Ground: A Reader Celebrating Cave Canem’s First Decade,” University of Michigan Press, 2006).

Dreadlocks

See
these ropes of hair
This is how
It would have grown
on my head
In the bowels of a ship
long ago

Understand
We dark still living
who crawled or
were dragged
hair matted flat
into this New World
would have been
dreadful

Toni’s work was published in Sinister Wisdom, Prairie Schooner and the American Poetry Review, among other places. Her words are the quiet hush around the storm; a keen and often painful observation of detail, insight into injustice in its many forms, and at the same time a testament to love, to all that is good in the world. Her work is transcendent, just as Toni was in her life.

This is Janet Mason with commentary for Booktube and Spotify.

To hear Toni read some of her poetry, click here:

Toni Brown black lesbian poet 11/4/52 – 4/19/08 (amusejanetmason.com)

For an excerpt from my essay on Emily Dickinson, originally published in the Harrington Lesbian Fiction Quarterly, click here: https://tealeavesamemoir.wordpress.com/2024/02/18/a-lesbian-reading-of-emily-dickinson-lgbt-lesbianlit-amreading/

To read my poem inspired by visiting the Dickinson house, click here:

Revisiting Lesbians in History: #Lesfic #EmilyDickinson #LGBT #amreading | Janet Mason, author (wordpress.com)

For more information on my most recent novel Loving Artemis, an endearing tale of revolution, love, and marriage, click here.

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The Influence of Sappho on Loving Artemis — #Sappho #LesFic #amreading

In honor of Valentines (Vagina) Day, I decided to repost this section from my novel Loving Artemis, an endearing tale of revolution, love and marriage (published in 2022 by Thorned Heart Press) that was published in the anthology Favorite Scenes From Favorite Authors, from I Heart Sapphic Books. I am particularly enthusiastic about this excerpt because it was inspired by the Lesbian poet Sappho. The excerpt is called “The trees blushing”

“Blurb:

      Artemis found the love of her life when she met Linda, but their passionate relationship fizzles when Artemis lands herself on the other side of the law. Pulling the pieces of her life together, Artemis rekindles her relationship with Linda, and together they raise a daughter.

      Meanwhile, Grace, running from her past, starts a life with Thalia. At a pride parade, Grace spots someone who reminds her of Artemis, who she was briefly involved with in her youth. Old feelings are rekindled. A lifetime of rejection, abandonment, and fleeing rears its head. Now she must come to terms with her past, put her relationship with Artemis to rest–or risk losing everything.

      Artemis and Grace embark on a journey of revolution, love, and marriage and discover that love finds us when we least expect it.

      Tell us about this scene:

      Art (Artemis) and the love of her life Linda take a motorcycle ride to the nearby quarry where they make love for the first time.

      Why did you choose this scene as your favorite?

      This scene is heavily influenced by my reading of the ancient Greek poet Sappho (who lived on the Island of Lesvos).

        * * *

      Excerpt:

(from chapter ten)

They got back on the bike. Art turned the key in the ignition and pulled forward slowly. This was where Art had come with her old girlfriend Allison. They had been on foot then, that first time when they hid behind the trees and called out to each other with lines from A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Art remembered the light shining through the trees, the way it did now as it danced on the ground around them. It was summer then. Now, red, orange, and brown leaves covered the path. Art felt the bump of tree roots under the tires. She brought the bike to a halt. She sat there for a minute, feeling the warmth of Linda behind her: the inside of Linda’s thighs cupping her ass; Linda’s arms hugging her waist. Art had been thinking that it didn’t get better than this. But now she knew it did — and it would. The difference between the time that she first came here with Allison and now, coming here with Linda, was that Art had been here before. She knew what she was doing. But she wanted it to be Linda’s idea. Linda got off the bike first. She walked to a log next to the path and sat down.

“I can see the lake from here,” said Linda. The back of her head was toward Art. Her windswept hair fell over her jacket collar.

“Come on over.” Art swung her leg over the bike. She put down the kickstand and stood there for a moment, holding the handlebars until she made sure that the bike was on steady ground. Then she walked the bike to the side of the path — beyond the log where Linda was sitting.

A narrow trail shot off from the path. It looked familiar. Art walked over to the log. “You can see the lake from here,” Art said. “I never realized that before.”

Linda scooted closer to Art. “You know the first time I walked into school with you, the girl sitting next to me in homeroom asked, ‘Who’s that cute guy with the motorcycle?’”

Art looked at her.

“Art is a guy’s name,” Linda explained.

 “It’s short for Artemis,” answered Art. “My mother’s Greek. Artemis is a goddess from Greek mythology.”

“Yeah, the goddess of the hunt. She was always my favorite,” replied Linda, looking at Art perceptively. “I think it’s cool that you’re Greek.”

Art looked into Linda’s green eyes. The woods were shady. Afternoon light filtered through red and orange leaves. Linda’s eyes blazed into Art’s.

“You would make a cute guy,” Linda continued.

Art was drawn into the green vortex of Linda’s eyes. Art’s arms and legs trembled and tiny flames scorched her skin. She opened her mouth slightly to say something, but speech eluded her. Linda leaned in and kissed her. Art kissed her back. Linda’s lips felt as soft as moist rose petals and she smelled like musk oil. Art didn’t know if Linda wore perfume or if the scent came from her own body. A breeze rustled the leaves. Art’s heart trembled. This wasn’t the first time she kissed a girl, but this kiss felt different. A universe opened between them. Their tongues found new language. Soon, Art drew back. Linda looked radiant, as if the moon and stars were glowing inside of her. Still speechless, Art remembered that there was something she wanted to say.

Words formed on her lips: “But I’m not a boy. I’m a girl.”

“A smart girl,” whispered Linda. “I like that.”

This time, Art leaned in and kissed Linda. Their hands were everywhere. They came up for air, stood, and stumbled ahead on the path. They turned down a narrow path and found a large mossy patch that looked inviting. Art thought she had been here before with Allison, but she wasn’t sure if this was the exact place. Now, here with Linda, it was new. They were standing, kneeling, lying on the ground, rolling, touching. It was too cool a day to take off their clothes, but, as it turned out, it didn’t matter. There would be plenty of time for that later.

Art rolled on top of Linda. Excitement sparked in her groin and danced throughout her body. Her fingers tingled. Her tongue entwined with Linda’s. When they were done kissing, Art drew back and looked at Linda. Her hair was the deep red of autumn apples. Her skin was radiant. Shifting her weight, Art thrust her thigh against Linda’s crotch.

Linda groaned. “I’ve wanted to do this ever since I got on your bike with you,” she whispered.

Art had wanted to do this ever since she set eyes on Linda. She wanted the bike more than anything, but she wanted Linda just as much. Maybe Linda was the reason she bought the bike. Yiayia (her Greek grandmother)would have understood. The wind blew harder and the leaves rustled. A distant roaring filled Art’s ears. Linda moaned and writhed under Art, as Art rubbed her crotch in a circular motion on Linda’s thigh. Cries overflowed from her throat. A humming filled her ears. The moss felt like moist velvet under her fingertips. It was chilly, but Art was filled with warmth. She rolled to the side.

As she lay there, her arms circling Linda, she imagined that the red and orange leaves looking down at them were the trees blushing.

Here is the link to the free anthology on BookFunnel:

https://dl.bookfunnel.com/ck3pqiiavx

For more information on my most recent novel Loving Artemis, an endearing tale of revolution, love, and marriage, click here:

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The Highest Apple in review — how #lesbian literature can change lives

It’s my pleasure to post a review of The Highest Apple – Sappho and the Lesbian Poetic Tradition by Judy Grahn (in 2024) re-published by Sinister Wisdom as part of its Sapphic Classic line. The video of the review is above (on YouTube ) and the text of the review is below.

When I heard that Sinister Wisdom was republishing The Highest Apple – Sappho and the Lesbian Poetic Tradition by Judy Grahn (in 2024) as part of its Sapphic Classic line, I was very excited. This important book was first published in 1985 by Spinster’s Ink Press.

I tend to think of the 1980s, when I came out in my early twenties, as “the old days” which were quite heady with lesbian culture. I was very influenced by Sappho, Grahn, and the other poets she writes about so eloquently in The Highest Apple, including the poets H.D. (Hilda Doolittle), Amy Lowell, Emily Dickenson, and Gertrude Stein as well as the contemporary poets Adrienne Rich, Paula Gun Allen, Audre Lorde, Pat Parker, and Olga Broumas.

I was excited because those days (while far from perfect) greatly influenced me, and I heard all the contemporary poets in this book read from their work in person.  I’m not one to be nostalgic, but rereading the lines from Greek-American poet Olga Broumas (from her first book, Beginning With O) :

City-center, mid-

traffic, I

wake to your public kiss, Your name

is Judith, your kiss a sign

to the shocked pedestrians, gathered

beneath the light that means

stop

…

I was filled with memories from “the old days” which included listening to Broumas read her work and talk about her process which involved the Greek tradition of letting the poem well up inside of you, reciting it until it was whole, and then writing it down in its entirety.

So, there was much about The Highest Apple reminiscent of how important this work was, and the importance of the influence of the groundbreaking lesbian poets who were writing and publishing at this time. But this book also spoke to me in the present moment, and Grahn seemed at times to be saying the exact thing that I needed to hear as I read it.

As I have moved on in life, I have become more intersectional, and in recent years I have become vegan. This is something my partner and I have done initially for health reasons (the results turned out to be remarkable), but also in time both of us went through a consciousness-raising about the animals and the planet, making me think more about the universe and my place in it.  While rereading the book, what seemed like my mysterious flash of insight about becoming vegan was suddenly illuminated. To become vegan, I had to fully love myself, to embrace all of myself – including my essential lesbian self – and my understanding that came from living under the patriarchy for all these years, led me to where I am now. This was a valuable realization because I am always longing to be whole (in past and present) which is something that Grahn speaks to in this book.

So, I was delighted when I read Grahn’s following paragraph that spoke to me in showing me that The Highest Apple reflects not only my past but also my present and future:

“Lesbian poetry leads itself to its own foundations, and to this idea: the universe is alive, is a place, and we can unite with it; in fact it is essential that we do so. We can build a place for ourselves in it, so long as we understand the stones to be each other; we can reach our long-held apple, the one Sappho held back on the highest branch for us. This is a profoundly feminist and a profoundly poetic and a profoundly Lesbian idea.”

The irony of this important lesbian book being out of print for so long was not lost on me. Important life-changing literature does not have to be burned (as was the case of the classical Greek and Lesbian poet Sappho), but only to be ignored.

Rereading The Highest Apple – Sappho and the Lesbian Poetic Tradition by Judy Grahn republished by Sinister Wisdom in 2024 reminded me how lesbian literature can remind us that we are whole in the past, present, and future.This is Janet Mason with commentary for BookTube and Spotify.

To find out more about the rereleased version of The Highest Apple on the Sinister Wisdom website, click here: The Highest Apple | Sinister Wisdom

To read an excerpt of my novel Loving Artemis, published by Thorned Heart Press in 2022,inspired by Sappho, click here:

The Influence of Sappho on Loving Artemis — #Sappho #LesFic #amreading

For more information on my most recent novel Loving Artemis, an endearing tale of revolution, love, and marriage, click here:

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Learning more about Oscar: #LGBTQ #amreading #intersectional

I am posting a review of Wilde Nights & Robber Barons, The Story of Maurice Schwabe (The Man Behind Oscar Wilde’s Downfall, who with a Band of False Aristocrats Swindled the World) written by Laura Lee (2022; Elsewhere Press).

The review that I recorded for Book Tube is below and the written review is below that.

Oscar Wilde was not the first one. Of course, I knew that rationally. But this was also the first thought that popped into my head after finishing the book Wilde Nights & Robber Barons, The Story of Maurice Schwabe (The Man Behind Oscar Wilde’s Downfall, who with a Band of False Aristocrats Swindled the World) by Laura Lee (2022; Elsewhere Press).

No stranger to the world of Oscar Wilde, Lee is the author of the 2017 nonfiction book titled Oscar’s Ghost, The Battle for Oscar Wilde’s Legacy from Amberly Publishing in England.

Her new book interested me because it tells the story behind the story of how Oscar Wilde became the gay icon that he is – including the impetus and name of the infamous and historically important Oscar Wilde Bookshop in New York City which closed its doors in 2009.

Wilde was born in 1854 in Dublin, Ireland; went to college in England; married a woman as custom dictated; became a well-known writer; discovered he was gay, fell hopelessly in love with a younger man named Lord Alfred Douglas; and went to jail for that love in 1895. He was then released from jail in 1897 and in 1900 died penniless.

Wilde is the author of numerous and often satirical writings including his novel, The Picture of Dorian Gray, and his plays including his most popular, The Importance of Being Earnest.

In Wilde Nights & Robber Barons, Lee used her research and writing to bring to light the story behind Oscar Wilde. He came to be known because of his writings, and he came to ruin because he was being blackmailed for his homosexuality along with other gay men in a certain class in what was commonly called “polite society.”

Maurice Schwabe, key to the international circle of card sharks and blackmailers, just happened to have been lovers with Lord Alfred Douglas, the man who was known for his long-term love affair with Oscar Wilde. Douglas, also known as Bosie, was with Schwabe before he was with Oscar Wilde, making me think that jealousy and revenge were likely motives in the blackmailing along with financial gain.

In doing her research and presenting the facts, Lee gives the reader some interesting insight into Wilde’s important role in the early gay rights movement:  “Oscar was starting to be known as someone a young man in a certain kind of trouble could call on for help. In September 1893, Bosie had written to Charles Kains-Jackson, the editor of The Artist and the Journal of Home Culture, which was a showcase for homoerotic verse. He talked about Oscar’s role in advancing the “new culture,” a society that was accepting of same-sex love, an early form of the gay rights movement. ‘Perhaps nobody knows as I do what [Oscar] has done for the ‘new culture,’ the people he has pulled out of the fire and ‘seen through’ things not only with money, but by sticking to them when other people wouldn’t speak to them…’ In the years leading up to his trial for gross indecency, Wilde spent a fair amount of time negotiating with blackmailers, and only a small portion of this involved letters of his own.”

In reading Wilde Nights & Robber Barons, The Story of Maurice Schwabe (The Man Behind Oscar Wilde’s Downfall, who with a Band of False Aristocrats Swindled the World) by Laura Lee (2022; Elsewhere Press), I learned more about Oscar Wilde than I knew before.

This is Janet Mason reviewing for Book Tube.

For more information on my most recent novel Loving Artemis, an endearing tale of revolution, love, and marriage, click here:

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We can be in control of our lives: #Booktube #PlantPositivejournal in review #amreading

I am posting a review of the journal Plant Positive created and written by Kate Galli. The review that I recorded for Book Tube is below and the written review is below that. I was thinking that this is good to post for the holidays given the toxic food culture, but really it is good to read about Plant Positive at all times. The journal is a reminder that we are in control of our food, what we do and do not eat, and ultimately we have more power over our lives than we think we do.

When I saw Kate Galli interviewed on Rip Esseltyn’s PLANTSTRONG Podcast, I was intrigued. I immediately ordered her recently released Plant Positive Journal.

I got it as a gift for my partner but decided to read through it before she started writing in it. It is a year-long daily journal, broken down into months, weeks, and days, with the intention of helping people change their thinking, habits, and ways. I got the impression that the journal is designed primarily for people who are new to the vegan lifestyle. However, my partner and I have been vegan for four years now and the Journal was still extremely helpful.

Plant Positive Journal is beautifully done with exquisitely wrought drawings and well-placed inspirational quotes that alone are worth the price of the journal and the postage from Australia to the United States.  Kate Galli, who created the journal, is a vegan bodybuilder and health coach based in Sydney, Australia. Her podcast, about all things plant-based, is called “Healthification” and can be found wherever people get their podcasts.

As my partner said when I gave her the journal (for our fortieth anniversary), “It is the best present I ever got!”

Being vegan together—which we first did for health reasons and then went through a consciousness-raising about the animals and the environment—has been pretty amazing also.

Kate writes, “This journal covers the habits and thought patterns that help me manage my time and more importantly, my MIND.”

One of the suggestions from the Journal was to “piggyback” good habits onto each other. Kate mentions ten-minute meditation practices in the book, and I ended up “piggybacking” a ten-minute meditation onto the end of my regular yoga practice. I was meditating regularly but fell out of practice. I found this technique of “Piggybacking” my habits to be quite effective. The meditation time that I added has been life-altering and I often find myself looking forward to it!

One of the nuggets of information in the Journal was that both the American Dietetic and the British Dietetic Associations have stated that “A vegan, plant-based diet is nutritionally adequate, healthy, and safe at all stages of life, including pregnancy.”

As Kate writes, “Animals taste great. I will admit it. Most vegans will. We don’t become vegan because we hate the way animals taste. We become vegan because we discover we have been LIED TO.

We have been told our ENTIRE LIVES that some animals are ‘products.’ That it’s ok to eat some animals. Not all of them. That’d be bad!”

Plant Positive Journal created by Kate Galli reminded me of how much hope—for people and their health, for the animals, and the planet—that being plant-based also inspires in me. I found it practical, beautiful, inspirational, and very well-written.

This is Janet Mason with reviews for Book Tube and Spotify.

For more information on my most recent novel Loving Artemis, an endearing tale of revolution, love, and marriage, click here:

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THEY, a biblical tale of secret genders — excerpt nominated for a #Pushcart — #amreading #LGBTQ

Since the Biblical season is on us and everybody is holy, I am re-posting a published excerpt of my novel, THEY, a biblical tale of secret genders published by Adelaide Books (New York/ Lisbon). (For more information about the book — click here.)

This piece was first published in aaduna and was nominated for a Pushcart Prize.

The Mother  

(sometime early in the first century)

In the beginning was the Mother.

In the womb, Tamar took mental notes. The heavens trembled — at least it felt like the heavens. Maybe it was just gas. The Mother shifted. At first, it was too dark to see. But Tamar could feel. At first it felt like chaos — like everything was unconnected. But then she felt something holding her. A curved wall. She was leaning into it. It was soft and warm. She felt her backbone curve behind her. She was half of a circle. Was she floating? There was a chord attached to her belly. She relaxed once she realized that she wouldn’t float away.

There were appendages coming out from her shoulders. She looked down below the chord. On the lower part of her body there was a small bump and on either side of that were two more appendages. There was liquid all around her. She felt warm and safe. She didn’t have to worry yet about breathing.

Whoosh. She flinched. Slosh. Gurgles whizzed by. There was an abbreviated bubbling. After it repeated three times, she identified the sound as a hiccup. After a few moments, there was silence. Then there was a contented hum coming from the distance. Tamar knew it was the Mother, and it calmed her.

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The darkness lifted. She saw a distant light glowing through the pink barrier. She looked down and noticed tiny extremities with red lines moving through them. They were attached to the ends of two appendages, on each side of her. She found that she could move them, as if she were trying to grasp something. She knew that these movements would come in handy later. The light went out. Darkness. Tamar felt herself in her body.

She was perfect.

When she woke again, she blinked for the first time. It felt good so she did it again. The pinkish yellow glow came back. She clenched and unclenched her fingers. She rubbed the short one across the tips of several of the others, and felt a roughness. She felt a nourishment rushing from the chord through her body. And it was good. She went back to sleep for a long while.

When she woke, she stretched and yawned. She saw a pinkish yellow glow. It was faint and came from the other side. She looked toward the light and saw the sack next to her. There was someone inside who looked like her. It even had a light glowing around its edges — just like she did — down its extremities and around its fingers and toes. She remembered now that she had entered one body of two. Her twin was beside her. There was a large, round dome attached to a small body like hers. The big round dome faced her. The eyes looked at her. One blinked and the other stayed open. The two corners of the lips went up. Somehow she knew that this was a smile. Her twin was welcoming her. She wanted to welcome him back, but something stopped her. She didn’t know who her twin was. Was her twin part of her? She wasn’t sure she wanted to be part of someone else. She definitely didn’t want to share her Mother.

There were appendages on both sides of his body. There were five fingers attached to the end of each appendage. The fingers clenched and unclenched. They seemed to wave at her. Tamar thought about waving back, but she didn’t. She wasn’t sure if the thing next to her in the translucent sack could see her. So she pretended that she didn’t see it. Then she looked down and saw something protruding. At first she thought that she was seeing a shadow. She moved her head slightly. The shadow was still there. She looked down at her own body and saw that she also had a third appendage on the lower part of her body. It was much shorter than the two other limbs. She clenched and unclenched her fingers. They were all there — five on each side, including the shorter ones at the ends. None of them had fallen off. She looked down again. Somehow she knew that this protrusion made her a boy and knowing this made her angry.

She knew her name was Tamar, but she had forgotten where it came from. She knew that Tamar was a girl’s name, and that she was a girl. She had a vague memory in her cells that she had come from a single egg, fertilized by a trail of light that had come just for her. And she remembered that another egg, fertilized with its own stream of light, was next to her and that the two eggs had merged. They crossed over and into each other, exchanging some vital information. Tamar’s egg knew that it was female. But it absorbed a sequence of information that told it that its genetic material that it would be male and female. The secret language of the cells said that each of the eggs would be XX and XY.

The thing next to her had a longer protrusion than her. She took comfort in that. Perhaps this meant that she was really a girl after all. But the thing next to her — gradually, she came to think of him as her twin — would most likely be lording his superiority over her forever.

On the sides of the protrusion were two lower appendages. She found that she could use her mind to stretch them. And once she stretched them, she realized that these were her legs and that her feet were attached to the ends of them. She kicked at the inside of the pink cushion that surrounded her.

“Ow,” said a woman’s voice. It was the voice of the Mother. Tamar knew that she had to get the Mother’s attention first. She kicked again.

This time she felt a gentle hand push down on the other side of the pink cushion. Her twin nudged the Mother back.

“What are you trying to tell me, my son?” asked Mother.

I’m a girl — a girl just like you Mother, Tamar tried to say. But speech eluded her. She had yet to utter her first cry. But she had to get Mothers attention —

to read the entire piece in aadduna, click here

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What’s in a name? — a #UU reflection #secularhumanist #amreading

Recently, I participated in a service on the topic of secular humanism at the Unitarian Universalists of Mt. Airy in Philadelphia. The YouTube video of my part of the service is immediately below and the text is under that.

Since becoming a Unitarian Universalist, I’ve learned there is a theological name for what I am: a secular humanist. But in my book, this doesn’t mean there is no mystery in my life. In fact, I live in the mystery.

As a writer, I live in a world where people become other people in my mind. I call them characters. History often comes alive. And increasingly, especially since I’ve become vegan, talking animals come to me and tell me their stories. I live in a world where stories take on life and often become puzzles. For every beginning, there is an ending, and I usually don’t know that ending until I get there.

I did this with my novel THEY, a biblical tale of secret genders when I was in a group here called “The New UU” some years back when I first joined. Since I was raised secular, I wasn’t only new to being a Unitarian Universalist, but to religion in general. I decided to read the Bible, which wasn’t required, but I wanted to be thorough. Besides, I had always wanted to read the Bible since the tenth grade when my English teacher described it as the best work of fiction ever written.

When I began reading the Bible, I started wondering what if? I wondered what if there were strong women? And what if some of those women loved other women? What about gay men? What if there were transgendered people? How did they survive? What if some people did not fit the binary? What if some people were gender-fluid? How did they manage to survive in the harsh desert culture?

So, in some ways, I am a believer. I’m a believer in stories and I’m a believer in re-inventing those stories. Like many writers, I’m a believer in myth and in inhabiting that myth and rewriting it until it suits me. Often that is my entry point to myth. I read the reinterpretation and then I read the myth it is based on.

I’m a believer in change and knowing why that change is necessary.

And I believe in the inquisitive mind, including my own. Maybe it took a long time for me to believe in myself. Sometimes it feels that way and sometimes it doesn’t. But I did have to invent myself, in a culture where I am different in many ways. And I am proud of that difference.

I am a deeply intuitive person, so I don’t always know how things happen. But I know that they do happen. And I know that being part of this congregation has deepened my belief, particularly my belief in myself. So, I profoundly appreciate being here with you, as we invent our moment.

–Namaste

For information on my most recently published novel Loving Artemis click here

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Finding the Light–#UU #amreading #Hanukkah

I am reposting this talk that I gave to mark the occasion of Hanukkah. The talk was a Unitarian Universalist (UU) service that was called “Ringing in the Light.”

I talked about my childhood memories of being touched by Hanukkah and my experiences in celebrating the Winter Solstice and with the Gnostic Gospels. You can see my words below on the YouTube video or read the reflection below that.

Janet Mason on Light – YouTubeAuthor Janet Mason talks about finding the light through a child memory of a Hanukkah play, celebrating the solstice, and the Gnostic Gospels in a Unitarian Universalist context.www.youtube.com

As far back as I can remember, the light beckoned.

The sun was a ball of fire in the sky.  The light changed into vibrant colors in the morning and the evening.  It filtered through the branches of trees.  The sunlight had, in fact, shined down and helped to form the trees.  So the light was in the trees (along with the rain and the earth).

Even when it was cloudy, I knew the sun was there. Sometimes I could see the ball of sun outlined behind the gray clouds.

The first time I remember being drawn to the light in a religious context was when I was in elementary school watching a play about Hanukkah.

Despite its nearness to Christmas on the calendar, Hanukkah is one of the lesser holidays in Judaism. Hanukkah, also called The Festival of Lights, began last Tuesday at sunset and ends this Wednesday, December, 20^th, at nightfall.

When I asked my partner what Hanukkah meant to her, she responded that it is a celebration of survival, hope and faith.

The holiday celebrates the victory of the Maccabees, detailed in the Hebrew Bible and the Talmud.

This victory of the Maccabees, in approximately 160 BCE –  BCE standing for Before The Common Era — resulted in the rededication of the Second Temple.  The Maccabees were a group of Jewish rebel warriors who took control of Judea.

According to the Talmud, the Temple was purified and the wicks of the menorah burned for eight days.

But there was only enough sacred oil for one day’s lighting. It was a miracle.

Hanukkah is observed by lighting the eight candles of the menorah at varying times and various ways.  This is done along with the recitation of prayers.  In addition to the eight candles in the menorah, there is a ninth called a shamash (a Hebrew word that means attendant). This ninth candle, the shamash, is in the center of the menorah.

It is all very complicated of course – the history and the ritual – but what I remember most is sitting in that darkened auditorium and being drawn to the pool of light around the candles on my elementary school stage.

I am not Jewish.  I say that I was raised secular – but that is putting it mildly.  My mother was, in fact, a bible-burning atheist.  Added to that, I was always cast as one of the shepherds in the school’s Christmas pageant since I was the tallest child in elementary school.

Also, I had Jewish neighbors – and as a future lesbian and book worm growing up in the sameness of a working class neighborhood — I may have responded to difference and had a realization that I was part of it.

Then I grew up, came out, thanked the Goddess for my secular upbringing, and celebrated the Winter Solstice with candles and music. This year, the Solstice falls on December 21st. The Winter Solstice (traditionally the shortest period of daylight and the longest night of the year)  is this coming Thursday in the Northern Hemisphere of planet Earth – which is where we are.

One of our friends who we celebrated the Solstice with is Julia Haines. Julia is a musician who has performed at Restoration.  She has a wonderful composition of Thunder Perfect Mind which she accompanies with her harp playing. You can find her on YouTube. Thunder Perfect Mind, of which I just read an excerpt, is one of the ancient texts of the Gnostic Gospels.

The Gnostic Gospels were discovered in the Egyptian town of Nag Hammadi in 1945.  Originally written in Coptic, these texts date back to ancient times and give us an alternative glimpse into the Gospels that are written in the New Testament. They are so important that they are banned in some conventional religions.  And in my book, that’s a good reason to read them.

Reading them led me to think of myself as a Gnostic – meaning one who has knowledge and who pursues knowledge – including mystical knowledge.  The Gnostic Gospels have provided me with inspiration for my writing, particularly in my novel THEY, a biblical tale of secret genders, soon to be published by Adelaide Books. And they also inspire me in the novel I am currently writing — titled The Unicorn, The Mystery.

I am inspired by the Gnostic Gospels in part because they let in the light.  In particular, they let in the light of the feminine.

As Julia says in her rendition of Thunder:

am godless

I am Goddess

So how does finding the light factor into my experience of Unitarian Universalism? Later in life, after fifty, I found a religion that fit my values.  I found a religion wide enough – and I might add, secure enough – to embrace nonconformity.

In finding a congregation that is diverse in many ways – including religious diversity – I have found a deeper sense of myself.

And in that self, I recognize that the darkness is as least as necessary and as important as the light.

As a creative writer, I spend much of my time in the gray-matter of imagination.

It is in that darkness where I find the light.

Namaste

For more information on my most recent novel Loving Artemis, an endearing tale of revolution, love, and marriage, click here:

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