Dog-Eared Book Club

I know this post should be about blessings and gratitude. But I’m always talking about blessings and gratitude, so it almost feels anachronistic to do it today. Besides, I don’t need a plucked game bird and jellied cranberries to count my blessings. I do that every night.

But I digress.

So here are some current hot market books for the bibliophiles in your lives, especially since Black Friday is in three days, and Christmas psychopaths are ready. You Whovillians know who you are. But I guess if there is any year when holiday cheer is needed early, it’s 2020. So more power to ya. But forgive me if I don’t personally indulge. A study published in the Journal of Environmental Psychology showed that neighbors interpret you putting up Christmas decorations early as a sign that you’re sociable and approachable, and I don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea about me.

So in my home, my boys open their traditional first gift of Christmas on Christmas Eve, and it is always the same thing. I will not share this, because some things must just be ours. But I will tell you that the first gift my sons open up on Christmas morning is a book personally handpicked for them by me. As little boys they loved getting their books, and once Christmas festivities were over, they could be found, tired and happy, curled up in the corner with blankets and juice cups, reading their little books. But times change, as they do, and the books inevitably got tossed aside for sporting equipment and video games and electronics. Some years they never even read their books, but I always say the same thing on Christmas morning:

“If you insist on being ignorant troglodytes, that’s your choice. But I’ll be damned if I will participate in your literary nescience. I will never stop giving you guys books for Christmas.” (They are never insulted about being called “troglodytes.” It’s part of the tradition). I work hard every year on choosing books that mirror their personalities and interests.

So enjoy the following list that includes a little of everything. I researched tirelessly and only consulted Amazon once (Suck on that, Bezos). Note the lack of fiction. Not really a fiction gal, sorry. You want great fiction? Read the Elena Ferrante novels. They will KNOCK. YOU. OUT.  Moving on.

  • Literary Listography by Lisa Nola. I am getting this for Christmas from myself. Over 70 entertaining and thought-provoking list topics make this illustrated journal a unique autobiography and reading log for bibliophiles. Try other Listography titles, too.
  • The Best of Me by David Sedaris. I have read every published word this man has ever written, or haven’t I mentioned that? I would read his cocktail napkin skritches if he published them. This is stuff of his that has already been published, but where’s the flaw? It will be mine.
  • Procrastibaking: 100 Recipes for Getting Nothing Done in the Most Delicious Way Possible by Erin Gardner. We’re coming up on hygge-season, folks, and what better way to waste time than by baking delicious treats like Fear-of-Success Snack Cakes? Looks like tremendous fun.
  • Alright, Alright, Alright: The Oral History of Richard Linklater’s Dazed and Confused by Melissa Maerz. Director Linklater just thought people might like to watch a movie about high school kids hanging out and listening to music on the last day of school in 1976. He was right. And while not every person liked this movie, certain kind of people loved it, and made it a cult classic. My sons love it, and it made Matthew McConaughey a household name.
  • Greenlights by Matthew McConaughey. More Matty Mac here. Anyone who will listen has heard my story of my buying Matt McConaughey a beer in the VIP lounge of a 76’ers game. Yes, he’s as cool and nice as he seems. He also happens to have a unique literary voice, and his book is #1 in all its categories. Treat yourself to this ASAP.
  • The Last Great Road Bum by Hector Tobar: As quoted from avclub.com: “This book follows the wild, peripatetic life of Joe Sanderson, who dropped out of college in the ’60s to hitchhike across the globe, visiting, by his estimate, 70 to 80 different countries throughout his short life. Traveling from Jamaica to Vietnam to Nigeria, Sanderson would ultimately die fighting with the guerrillas in the civil war in El Salvador. Inspired by writers like Thoreau and Hemingway, Sanderson wrote prolifically, leaving behind a significant archive of letters, notebooks, and journals, which Tobar used to write the Great American Novel that Sanderson himself could not.” This is my Christmas reading book, can’t wait to dig my teeth into it…
  • Wow, No Thank You by Samantha Irby. I think we could all use this series of essays by Irby for a laugh. Anyone who hides past due bills under her pillow has my approval.
  • The Eye of the Elephant by Mark Owens. My sons always say that one day I will visit an elephant orphanage and never return. They may be right, because in my opinion, anything unrelated to pachyderms is irrelephant.
  • Anxious for Nothing: Finding Calm in a Chaotic World by Max Lucado. Lucado’s book is in the top ten of every category on Amazon. Everything he writes turns to gold. Can’t wait.
  • Buy Yourself the F*cking Lillies: and Other Rituals to Fix Your Life by Tara Schuster. Supposedly we will want Tara to be our best friend once we read this book. It sounds like something I would write, and I think I’ll be mad at Tara for being published when I’m not.
  • A Little Life by Hanya Yanagihara. Here’s your fiction. Your bibliophile will love this. Phenomenal.

See you Monday, and enjoy whatever Thanksgiving you are celebrating. Here’s hoping that on New Year’s Eve, at 12:01, it will turn to January 1st, 2021, and not December 32nd, 2020. Time to usher this bad boy out.

Dog-Eared Book Club

If you’re hoping for a post dripping with sex and sarcasm, today is not the day. Today is the first post from the “Dog-Eared Book Club.” Reading is as big a part of me as sex, happiness and travel, so here we go.

I didn’t retire from teaching because my husband passed away. His death just rushed the process. I retired because I grew weary of trying to persuade technology-addicted teenagers to read the books on my syllabus. Any English teacher can tell you that it’s the kiss of death when you no longer care if your students just look up the summaries online, and that’s where I was in 2017, my thirtieth and final year of high school English teaching.

“Why do we have to read?” they would ask. Gee, I don’t know, why do you have to breathe, eat, drink, and move? Early in my career I knew how to answer that question. By 2017, I had nothing.

“I’m not reading this,” a student would say.

“So, don’t,” I would answer. “Marinate in your ignorance.”

Yikes. Time to go.

Rather than wax on about how reading defined my childhood, my high school and college years, my professional writing career and beyond, perhaps I will let that trickle into my posts gradually. I will simply start at the beginning. The books that molded me into the reader, writer, student, teacher, mother, and human being that I am. I managed to whittle it down to ten, and it wasn’t easy. All ten books sit in exalted positions in my personal bedroom library, a very small and select collection. These books are never more than an arms-length away from my heart:

  1. Eric by Doris Lund
  2. Death Be Not Proud by John Gunther
  3. David’s Story by Marie Rothenberg
  4. Charlotte’s Web by E.B. White
  5. Mrs. Mike by Benedict and Nancy Freedman
  6. Watership Down by Richard Adams
  7. Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret by Judy Blume
  8. Velveteen Rabbit by Margery Williams
  9. Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte
  10. Seventeenth Summer by Maureen Daly

The first three deal with sick or injured children who overcame great odds: Eric Lund, who died of leukemia, Johnny Gunther, who battled a brain tumor and David Rothenberg, who in 1983 when he was six years old suffered burns over 90 percent of his body when his father burned him alive in a hotel room (David recently passed in 2018 at the age of 42, a very advanced age for such a severe burn victim).

Maybe I was a little morbid as a young girl, but the inspiration I gleaned from these stories lives on today, as charities such as St. Jude’s, the Children’s Burn Foundation and March of Dimes continue to be organizations I stridently and aggressively support.

Charlotte’s Web and Watership Down are not books to me, they are family tomes, and characters like Charlotte, Fern, Templeton, Wilbur, Fiver, Hazel, Bigwig, and Blackberry are not abstract literary characters, but close friends. I revisit them often, just to say hello.

Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret by Judy Blume showed me how stream-of-consciousness dialogue can connect you to a character, a plot and a setting like nothing else. This book is one of my best friends, and made me want to be a writer.

The romance books: Mrs. Mike, the love story of Boston girl Mary O’Fallon and Mike Flannigan, a sergeant in the Canadian Mounties, and the life they built together in such a harsh, unforgiving land defined to me what it means to sacrifice for love. And the sweet, pure, ethereally-beautiful love story in Seventeenth Summer, the falling in love of Angie Duluth and Jack Morrow was (is) for me the apex, the pinnacle, of what it means to fall in love. I still get chills when I re-read the chapter when Jack begs Angie not to go away to college, because he can’t bear to be without her.

Sigh.

I re-read Jane Eyre every year. Jane and Rochester. My God. And Velveteen Rabbit? I read it every Easter, and it never fails to bring tears to my eyes.

So that’s the list, for now.

Sex and sarcasm tomorrow, I promise.