Book Clubs – Cynthia F. Davidson https://cynthiafdavidson.com author & mystic Wed, 28 Oct 2020 22:18:50 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=6.5.2 https://cynthiafdavidson.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/10/CFD_Favicon_Red-150x150.png Book Clubs – Cynthia F. Davidson https://cynthiafdavidson.com 32 32 Volume 1 Issue 11: Making the Best Choices with Eternity in Mind https://cynthiafdavidson.com/volume-1-issue-11-making-the-best-choices-with-eternity-in-mind/ Mon, 03 Jun 2019 22:12:00 +0000 http://cynthiafdavidson.com/?p=865 Read a good book recently? Do tell. A voracious reader myself, I am curious to know how my fellow readers choose their books. With my memoir The Importance of Paris coming out in less than three weeks, I would also love to know how many of you have read a memoir in the last six months, and which one(s).



What I’m Reading

A few of you have asked which kind of books I read and if reading inspires my writing. Yes the two are connected. Right now I’m listening to the audio version of Romantic Outlaws: The Extraordinary Lives of Mary Wollstonecraft & Mary Shelley by Charlotte Gordon (2015). When perusing the library shelves, sometimes the perfect choice falls into my hand and this was one of those times. Of course you can hardly go wrong with any title that has won the National Book Critics Circle Awards, like this one has.

Romantic Outlaws is non-fiction and recounts the intertwined stories of two avant garde women’s lives (a bit like my forthcoming memoir) although Romantic Outlaws concerns a famous mother-daughter duo. Tragically the mother, Mary Wollstonecraft dies at age 38, in 1797, just ten days after giving birth to her daughter Mary Godwin Shelley. But her child came to know and appreciate her mother through the writings she left behind. This is another example, of the importance of leaving behind written records, of our insights and experiences for future generations.

An amazingly farsighted activist and author, Mary W. was labeled a radical in her Victorian English era, because she dared to believe in freedom, education and equality for women. And despite the immense social condemnation she faced during her lifetime, Mary W. persevered, publishing A Vindication of the Rights of Woman in 1792. Though she did not live to see the changes she fought for become law, she used her pen nevertheless to fight for women’s rights. What she advocated has since improved countless lives. Her work blazed a trail for her daughter and the rest of us.

Mary Godwin Shelley followed in her mother’s advancing footsteps and became a visionary author in her own right. Among the books she wrote was the groundbreaking Gothic novel Frankenstein — the first example of what became the new genre of science fiction. It appeared in London in 1818 anonymously, when Mary S. was only 20. She was also a source of inspiration to Percy Bysshe Shelley, the famous Romantic poet, who wrote odes to Mary S. and married her.

The writings of progressive authors encourage one another as well as their readers. And the causes of social justice are advanced when authors build upon each others ideas. I have just discovered a cross-cultural connection between Mary Wollenstonecraft and a Frenchwoman contemporary, Olympe de Gouges.

One year before A Vindication of the Rights of Woman appeared, Olympe published her Declaration of the Rights of Woman and the Female Citizen, in 1791. Olympe cleverly based hers upon the The Declaration of the Rights of Man and the Citizen, which the French National Constituent Assembly had just passed in August 1789. She stated in her preamble “…Woman is born free and remains the equal of man in rights. If woman is entitled to mount the scaffold (of the guillotine); then she must be equally entitled to mount the rostrum [of the National Assembly].”

That same year, 1791, Mary W. published An Historical and Moral View of the Origin and Progress of the French Revolution and may have known of Olympe de Gouges and her pamphlet. Although Mary W.’s work was preserved for posterity, Olympe’s was largely forgotten for over 220 years. Her own son disavowed her to keep his position in the French military. When she was sentenced to death for her efforts on behalf of the French Revolution her enemies ordered all her papers be burned. She had written to advocate an income tax and tax on capital, equality between blacks and whites, a public health system, welfare services for the needy and women’s rights to vote and take part in political life. These principles have since become essential to the bedrock of modern Western society.

Early on Olympe had warned the public that Maximilian Robespierre was only talking about democracy but was actually a dangerous power-mad demagogue. History proved she was right. One of the 370 women guillotined, Olympe de Gouges was only 45 years old when she called out, “Children of the homeland, you shall avenge my death!” just before the blade fell on November 3, 1793. After 224 years of exclusion, silence, contempt and suppression this woman most had never heard of was finally admitted into the French National Assembly. Its president Claude Bartolone, exclaimed in 2016, “At last we have arrived at this moment! At last, Olympe de Gouges is entering the National Assembly!” A granite bust of her now stands overlooking the descendants of those who attempted to erase her.



Memoir Workshop Pilot is Full

Thanks to each of you who expressed interest in our upcoming event on Sunday June 23. Those who asked us to reserve a seat must reconfirm and reply as we now have a waiting list. We may offer this again in the autumn.



Ceremonies

Our Summer Solstice Lodge ceremony, in newly rebuilt Lodge, will be held on Saturday the 22nd of June. Please RSVP as Solstice and Equinox ceremonies fill up fast. Our July Lodge ceremony will be on Sunday the 7th.

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Volume 1 Issue 3: The Importance of a Story Circle https://cynthiafdavidson.com/volume-1-issue-3-the-importance-of-a-story-circle/ Mon, 04 Feb 2019 17:36:25 +0000 http://cynthiafdavidson.com/?p=795 What makes for a good story? A beginning, middle and end, for starters, but don’t forget the importance of closing the loop via a supportive audience of readers and listeners. Stories must be shared. Getting out from behind these screens regularly, I enjoy storytelling done the old fashioned way, up close and in person. In the absence of a community campfire to gather round, how do you get the life affirming medicine of good stories, especially during our trying times? These ways work to keep me going.



Oral Storytelling

I went to Tell Newport at the Firehouse theatre recently. The theme that night was “The Last Straw.” Five people, mostly women, each had ten minutes to tell a true story, without notes or props. Taking the stage and speaking truths to strangers is heroic and their courage was infectious — better than sitting on the couch in front of a TV. One story, about combatting suicidal depression, after the theft of the popular election vote victory in the 2016 presidential race, stays with me: “…I pinned a ‘Free Hugs’ note to the back of my jacket and went out to offer what I could to other people who were also hurting.” Because of this illegitimate presidency, this storyteller has also lost access to healthcare during their transgender journey.
The Wisdom Wheel
Sharing the television spot about the Wisdom Wheel last month has connected me with old friends and the newly intrigued. How refreshing to rediscover “beginner’s mind” on this subject after discussing it for over twenty years. Some opportunities are in the works and if your organization needs a different kind of speaker or something out of the box to catalyze great discussions, contact me. I am always willing to hit the road for good causes and an honorarium.



Ceremonies

Our next Community Lodge is Feb. 16th at 10 a.m. Anyone wanting additional information about this or the annual four day Bear Fast coming up next month should contact me soon. No charge for ceremonies though we accept donations. These are the antidotes to commercialism and corruption.



The Memoir and Other Writing


Writing Groups

Books don’t get written in a vacuum and most of my Saturday mornings are spent with my writing group, hearing their written stories read aloud and sharing my own. The feedback of these friends and beta readers is priceless. Our latest prompt included “A Brush With Greatness” and I used a memoir excerpt.


Book Clubs

Being a regular reader is also important. Without savoring the tales told in great books, how would any of us recognize wonderful writing? Escaping into the magical realms enclosed between the pages has kept me sane. Two decades of faithful book club membership have become a most profitable investment. To understand not only what the well-proven mechanics are but what readers want. Ethos, Pathos, and Logos have been satisfying us since the days of Aristotle.

Please enjoy a short excerpt from my memoir below (for the “Brush With Greatness” prompt), and stay tuned for the book’s release this year.

Until next time,
Cynthia F. Davidson



An invitation came in the mail to a reception held by the mayor of Paris, Jacques Chirac’s Hotel de Ville (City Hall). The occasion was the translation into French of a book of poetry written by Prince Abdullah al Faisal Al Saud. How my name had gotten onto the invitation list was a mystery. Perhaps Waddah? Or my old Mobil Oil boss who knew I wrote poetry? I decided to attend and responded to the RSVP.

The overly ornate interior of the Hotel de Ville (City Hall) was full of elegantly dressed people when I arrived on the appointed evening. The honor guard was going up the steps and we paused to allow the soldiers time to go through the flourishes, drawing their sabers. The trappings of empire, I thought while following them up the carpeted steps. Inside the large reception room huge chandeliers hung from the ceiling where frescoes of naked women and cupids frolicked in eighteenth century style. These would never be seen in the City Halls of Riyadh or Jeddah I noted dryly while passing beneath them.

Jacques Chirac, the mayor of Paris, seemed harried and sweaty when I shook his hand in the receiving line. That evening his introductory speech droned on and on about the long friendship between France and the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia. I was thinking of the details he was leaving out. Who would tell the truth if I didn’t write it? Ruefully I recalled the real story Mazen had told me years ago about his father, Dr. Rashad Pharaon, being the first Saudi ambassador in Paris. Although the medical doctor had been born in Syria, King Abdul Aziz Al Saud had sent Rashad Pharaon to represent Saudi Arabia after the Second World War because he trusted him. By then Mazen’s father was the king’s personal physician, and he had treated many members of the royal family, curing them of syphilis too, if those rumors were correct.

Dr. Pharaon’s diplomatic credentials had been rejected at first by the French government because his name was still on their most wanted list. He had joined the resistance movement during the French occupation of the Levant (Syria and Lebanon) and part of an ambush that killed a French officer. A wanted man, Dr. Pharaon had fled south into the desert, ending up in Riyadh, where his medical talents were much appreciated. His medical degree had been earned in France, and he spoke the language and understood the thinking of the colonialists.

The Saudi king held fast and forced the French to accept the former resistance fighter as Ambassador Pharaon. Mazen was born in Paris during his father’s posting. His mother was already in labor on the way to the hospital and he arrived in the car on a bridge over the River Seine. He’d never known which of the city’s thirty-seven bridges it had been.

Now the featured poet took the podium, graciously thanking the mayor for his remarks. This Saudi Prince Abdullah was a grandson of that first Saudi King Abdul Aziz, and a brother of the current Saudi Minister of Foreign Affairs, Prince Saud. These brothers were both sons of the assassinated King Faisal, whose reign I’d lived under in Saudi Arabia. Prince Abdullah spoke exclusively in Arabic, with an interpreter. Reciting his poetry and making his remarks, he often stroked his nearly white goatee. Such a familiar gesture, I’d seen so many Muslim men touch their beards this way, while swearing Wahayat Allah, by the beard of the Prophet.

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