It’s frustrating. When I find the book I want I crack it open like to devour it demanding tell me all your everything right now the juicy bits the stuff the meat the what I’m here for. And once I’ve read that part ravenous and quick so I’m dizzy, I’m done and the rest is a let down a slough a mindless turning of pages to say I’ve read the whole thing because that is what you are supposed to do. An unsatisfying process, most of it anyways. I want to sit down, open up, fall in, slowly, with restraint, reading into and between, absorbing. But that is not how my mind works. It’s not a ballad, it’s a wrecking ball.
I’m completely and utterly in love with the cover, mostly because it looks like part of the fall line from Madewell. Or a book that a Wes Anderson character would be reading. It’s totally hipster’d out and I love it. The type set is relaxed, yet classic. The yellow border slightly unsteady. The X is ominous and sexual.
I like the way Emily Cheever reviews J. K. Rowling’s new book’s cover.
Winter break I am hiding out with my dog and some books next to a warm fireplace. The library impresses me with what they have on hand from my many lists of to-read:
The Lover by Marguerite Duras
Rare and Commonplace Flowers: The Story of Elizabeth Bishop and Lota de Macedo Soares by Carmen Oliveira
Autobiography of a Face by Lucy Grealy
The Gift: Imagination and the Erotic Life of Property by Lewis Hyde
No One Belongs Here More than You by Miranda July
The Adults by Alison Espach (listening to this one)
Lives of Girls and Women by Alice Munro
And, just to have something by a boy, one of Carver’s collections, probably What We Talk About When We Talk About Love because it looks like Will You Please Be Quiet Please is checked out.
Also, from the library/botanical garden in my office: An American Childhood by Annie Dillard
This is obviously a lot of books. But nothing has been holding my attention lately so I need a big pile which I will spread around the living room and my mom will stack neatly again each morning along with my glasses and my socks, all folded up. It has been so long since I’ve fallen in love with a book. Hopefully one of these will fix that.
This looks like a great list that I have read very little of. The problem with lists like this is that, though I love them, I find myself reading for accomplishment, just to check things off and look back later with satisfaction–not the best way to go about reading. I am going to try to use this list (when I ever find some free time) as a starting point rather than a laundry list starting with Enormous Changes at the Last Minute by Paley.