I’m working on a presentation on Algerian-born author Leïla Sebbar and how she may be using her collections as a source of memory hoarding. Certain objects recur in many of her texts such as postcards of the Odalisque, Parker pens, Singer sewing machines, and so on. I just read today on a French culture (www.evene.fr) site that she collects tobacco boxes because they represent a generational gap: “les pères algériens chiquaient, leurs fils fument des cigarettes” (‘Algerian fathers chewed, their sons smoke cigarettes.’)
In Sebbar’s 2004 book Mes Algéries en France (My Algerias in France), she presents other visual collections that I can imagine pinned on the walls of her office or in front of her in her work space. (She photographs the snuff boxes for this book.) When I opened the book today to take a few snapshots of her pages, a few of my own collected trinkets fell out: a used iTunes gift card, a makeshift bookmark leftover from a Target ad, and a promotional card from Delta with “Destination Paris” complete with Eiffel Tower facts on the back. Sebbar is so easy to judge, yet I obviously have a soft spot for her object fetishes.
Posted in hoarding in literature, hoarding in the profession, memory hoarding
Tagged card, Delta, Eiffel Tower, fetish, iTunes, Leïla Sebbar, memory, memory hoarding, object, Odalisque, Paris, Parker, pen, Sebbar, sewing machine, Singer, Target, trinket
One of my biggest issues in getting rid of our things is that I cannot easily trash what most people would plainly see as garbage. I always think someone else might be able to use it.
Yesterday I had the brilliant idea to pawn crap off on my mother who lives thousands of miles away. I asked her if she wanted my 1000+ pieces of Degas puzzle. “Sure. That would be fun!”
Me: “What about my sewing machine?”
Mom: “It would get lots of use here.”
She always finishes my crafting projects for me. She follows through on the quilting, crocheting and cross-stitching that I can never complete. And now she’ll take on my junk. What a saint. Or maybe she’s a hoarder, too, I started wondering when she said maybe she should drive up here to get the stuff.
Posted in from my hoard to yours, hoarding identity, hoarding roots
Tagged crafting, crap, crocheting, Degas, hoarder, mother, puzzle, quilting, saint, sewing machine, stuff