The Library Girl

Preludes

If I had to pick one word that defines my mood at the moment it’s ‘travel’. These days, I’ve been thinking of it non-stop. In the weeks ahead, I’ll be heading to Europe for a brief respite, and then again in the fall for a longer jaunt.

Since flying is on the brain, it goes without saying that the books I read should match. This last week has been filled with almost nothing but armchair travel of one sort or another. First it was Rory Stewart’s excellent volume entitled The Places in Between. Read by the author, this audiobook was highly enjoyable. Stewart had walked across Persia and Pakistan, and this text concerned his peregrinations through Afghanistan. I loved his boldness and determination, especially when dealing with locals. The experiences he chose to share were also poignant.

Next came One Year Off: Leaving It All Behind for a Round-the World Journey with Our Children, by David Elliot Cohen. I had read about this book before and finally took it out. It was a breeze, and, like Gopnik’s Paris to the Moon, or James Dodson’s Road to Somewhere, it afforded the reader a glimpse of children discovering their world, through a parent’s loving eyes. It's the way I wish I could teach my kids one day.

This evening I’ll be finishing up Kerouac’s On the Road, one of my classics selections. I didn’t enjoy this one as I thought I would. It’s clear why it’s a classic, and what it captures about the beat esprit, but ultimately it wasn’t for me. Like Leonard Cohen’s Beautiful Losers, this is a book, I think, most meant for guys in their early twenties.

I’m still immersed in ancient Greece and Rome, but perhaps I’ll check out the Voyages of Marco Polo while I’m in trip mode, since it’s on my list too. We'll see… I have the coming week off, so doubtless you shall hear from me again soon.

Trucking

February has just flown by; I feel like I’ve blinked and missed it. This month started off with a fabulous library conference in Toronto, and my mind has been a well of creative ideas ever since. If I haven’t posted, it’s because I’ve been writing other things, some exciting, and others (like policies), a little less so.

The big ‘reading news’ is that I (finally!) finished the Bible. I found it long, repetitive, and rather boring at some points. This is one text I’ll never re-read if I can help it. That said, I got what I wanted to out of it. Now I know about all those references we hear about. I know how Christianity took its present form, and what happened to poor Job. Every other classic should go faster from now on. At least they’re more or less in prose form.

Most of the books I read this month have nothing in common. There was one about Rwanda and global justice, another about growing up female under the Taliban. One of my favourite books, listened to in the car on my way to work, was the most excellent Good to Great: Why Some Companies Make the Leap… and Others Don’t, by Jim Collins. I’ve been hearing about this book for years, and its principles are applied and praised in every circle, and with reason. No matter what kind of organization you run (say… a library), you can glean golden nuggets from this one. I’m thinking of buying it for myself, and foisting it upon others. So good, and the audio was too.

Fiction-wise, there really wasn’t much this month. I picked up Jonathan Safran Foer’s Everything is Illuminated, which was very original, and at times humorous. Jonathan himself is a character in the novel, searching for the woman who saved his grandfather during the Holocaust. He goes to Ukraine and has a translator named Alexander to guide him. They correspond (the latter, in ESL English), and send one another their fictional writing to look over. I read it in an afternoon over tea and was satisfied, if I can put it that way.

On the bookshelf now is a mixture of: classics; books about Muslim women (presentation coming up); fiction on a waiting list that I must get through; books about management and leadership; titles on cities (new obsession – fascinating); and French, especially québécois, fiction (I’m brushing up).

Scattered

Not very much has changed for me in the last few weeks. I thought that I’d post again when I had gotten through the Bible. Well, I’m not near the end, but I am that much closer (still have 400 pages to go…). The thing is it can’t be the only book I read. In general, I usually have several going at once. At the moment, it’s more like eight and counting. For whatever reason, ever other book looks more delicious than the ones I’ve started. Then I get into those and still others catch my eye. 

I was craving a novel, but felt behind in my classics, so I reached for Anna Karenina, on the list but meant for later on in the year. It’s just so good and reminds me of how much I adore nineteenth-century fiction. Lucky thing I have a ton of it in the plans, although practically every selection is a brick. The binding in this one also hurts my fingers. The type dips too closely into the crease, which means I have to hold it a certain way, and that aggravates my arthritis. I wish publishers would think of these things.

Another phenomenon I’ve noticed is diminishing type size. In more than half of the classics on my shelf, the font is 8 pt or less. In French books, they just add ‘tomes’, but in English, they shrink the letters. I don’t even wear glasses but I probably will by the end of 2007. A month or two ago, I was wandering around a bookstore and noticed that there was Gibbon’s Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire in a single volume on the shelf. While it is true that it was abridged (a travesty in and of itself), it was unwieldy. If ever a book was not meant for paperback that was it. The letters were like tiny dots and it was three inches thick. Blech. There’s one I won’t buy…

So now I am faced with the end of January, and only five books finished. I am two discs away from the end of Mayflower; one disc into Good to Great; half-way through the Bible; 200 pages into The Great Transformation; 120 pages into Rwanda’s Genocide, 150 pages into Anna Karenina, 77 pages into Occidental Mythology, and 60 pages into a French book about Champollion. I wish I could just sit my tuchus down and finish one of them but it seems well nigh impossible.

Compounding this inability for completion is a new obsession with documentary films. My library has a great collection which I’ve recently discovered, and now I can’t get enough. I watch at least two a week, which, for a girl who hasn’t watched TV in years, is quite a lot. As long as there’s still learning…

This leads to that, which leads to…

The quest to get through classics has taken over my existence, although in an indirect way. Certainly it has slowed down my reading to the point where I’ve had to find new ways to get my book fix. It has also led me to branch off to related topics to find out more information about the classic at hand. In essence, I’ve created a complex Liberal Arts program for myself.

The first selection is the Bible, and it’s going slowly. I figured I had to start with this text, as millions have read it and even more refer to it. It must be the most referenced book in history. This of course has led elsewhere, to a volume on comparative Middle Eastern mythologies, and documentaries about the Israelites. Since I’ve only managed to get through the five books of Moses, who knows what else it will inspire. I’ve learned weird random tidbits too, like the fact that grasshoppers and locusts are sanctioned by God to be eaten (Leviticus 11:20 if you want proof). I must find out more about the Babylonians, who are fascinating.

Given my penchant for quantity with regards to books, I uncharacteristically started listening to not one but two audio courses simultaneously, one on famous Greeks, and the other, on ancient Rome. Despite their length, neither of these will count in the number of books read this year, meaning that by the end of the month, I’ll have read peanuts. Both of them, however, are really informative and quite suitable to this year’s project. Ultimately, despite the anal need to fill lists within given timeframes, the purpose of this classics enterprise is Knowledge, so there will be no more complaining from self-inflicted rules (promise!).

The problem is the other books, as in, when can I find the time to read them? Well, before bed I allow myself to read whatever I want (in this case a book about the French language). I also started a great ritual in the mornings when I get to work. Instead of shuffling through papers, for the first half-hour or so after I arrive I sit with my tea and read in my office. This has had the amazing effect of focusing my concentration. After I put the book away, I am wildly productive. Exercise has also proven helpful in that I can listen to a regular audiobook while doing it.

I think that my 50 classics is a pipe-dream for a single year, but by the time I get to the last one, I’ll know a whole lot more than I did. This multi-pronged approach will prove very educational, and allow for the pursuit of curiosity.

I’ll keep you posted on how it’s going.

As the Year Turns

It seems like I started this blog only a little while ago, while in fact it’s been just about a year. There’s so much to talk about that I don’t even know where to begin.

First, I guess, the vitals of 2006:

I capped off the year with 150 books read, which is about three per week. While this fell short of the four-a-week goal, I’m happy enough with it, given my new life circumstances.

Of those, 46 were fiction, 22 were audiobooks, and 19 were in French.

The most I read in one month was 18 books, in April.

My favourite books read this year were:

Fiction:
Beauchemin, Yves. Charles le Téméraire (just published in English as Charles the Bold)
Coe, Jonathan. The Rotter’s Club
Connelly, Karen. The Lizard Cage
Goldberg, Myla. Bee Season
Khadra, Yasmina. The Attack
Levy, Marc. Et si c’était vrai…
Liss, David. The Coffee Trader
Martel, Yann. The Life of Pi
Park, Jacqueline. The Secret Book of Grazia Dei Rossi
Rushdie, Salman. Shalimar the Clown

Non-Fiction:
Abu-Jaber, Diana. The Language of Baklava: a Memoir
Bader, Sara. Strange Red Cow and Other Curious Classified Ads from the Past
Friedman, Thomas. The World is Flat: A Brief History of the Twenty-First Century
Levitt, Steven D, and Stephen J. Dubner. Freakonomics: A Rogue Economist Explores the Hidden Side of Everything
Manguel, Alberto. A Reading Diary: A Year of Favourite Books
Moehringer, JR. The Tender Bar
Rapaille, Clotaire. The Culture Code: An Ingenious Way to Understand Why People around the World Live and Buy as They Do
Salzman, Mark. Iron & Silk
Walls, Jeanette. The Glass Castle
Wheen, Francis. How Mumbo-Jumbo Conquered the World: A Short History of Modern Delusions

This coming year brings many new challenges and projects. I’ve already mentioned the classics one in a previous post, but I have people projects too. In 2006, it was my father who, despite having read only a few books in the last decade (all of which were business-related) became a pure Reader. He finished the year at 50 books, rendering me misty-eyed with pride and proving to me that I am a decent librarian. This year I have a colleague and friend to work on, and a series of people to get using the library. My work is cut out for me on more levels than you can imagine.

Happy New Year!

The Quiet Bookworm

A happy marriage of circumstances has allowed me to post this week, for the first time in what feels like an age. While I may have neglected my blog in no small measure, the same cannot be said for its raison d’être – the actual reading and passion for books. I apologize for not sharing more of my bibliographic meanderings in the last few months. To say I have been busy is an understatement. The truth is, posting also came to feel less like a pleasure and more a duty at the time I stopped. I never intended to actually drop the pursuit, however, so here I am.

Where to begin?

I long ago gave up the hope that I could finish four books a week under the present circumstances. The average has been a steady two, and I have to accept that as good enough, even if I am (not so secretly) disappointed about it. Next year that aspiration will be downright impossible. My new scheme, starting in January, involves getting through a list of self-prescribed classics. Not an original pursuit, I must admit, but one that has been brewing for some time. There are just so many books that are referred to repeatedly that I haven’t read. Titles I deem beyond basic, like The Bible, or The Illiad, or even Don Quixote and Madame Bovary. To me, it is unacceptable to consider myself ‘educated’ and not have read these. With small exceptions, they are bricks, too.

My father thinks that I’ve bitten off a bit more than I can chew. Maybe he’s right, but I’m so excited by the enterprise that I’ll not lower my aspiration of fifty. The list isn’t comprehensive, in that I’ve read many classics already, and have left many more out. That said, I’ll feel much better after this set and, one hopes, more enlightened. Perhaps a second list of equal number will follow for future years. I’m giddy even thinking about it. I want to own every book on that list. Happily, I have more than half already, given my accumulation of volumes over the years. I haven’t yet decided if I’ll read them chronologically, or pick one from each era and then keep restarting. We’ll see.

I believe there is a canon, whether PC dictates otherwise or not. I refuse to concede to the postmodern possibility that there is no such thing as a ‘good’ book, or that that designation is completely subjective. Some books are universal and timeless, and others not. The edges of such a definition may be frayed, but they are still there.

Before I began working in the library, all I ever read were classics and history books. That exclusivity had to end, as it became obvious very quickly that such limited knowledge of contemporary books would inhibit my ability to serve patrons well in a public library. The old strings have been pulling in the last year, though, and the tendency has resurfaced.  Without question I’ll still have to read some current books, if only to balance the proverbial and literal weight of the classics, and to stay on top of things literary. Mmm… Can’t wait.

Book Club Blues

I hold my non-fiction book club every six weeks, which isn't exactly often by any measure. Be that as it may, it takes over my life each and every time. This weekend, for example, pretty much all I did was prepare for it. Sure, I procrastinated big-time through baking, shopping, walking, and napping, but essentially, I had to mosie back to my desk and keep taking notes. Hour after hour. Page after page. I wish I could sleep. I wish I had better sitting posture so my back wouldn't hurt. Kvetching isn't seeming to help.

There is nothing that detracts from the enjoyment of a book as much as forced note-taking. A quotable bit is one thing, a nice turn of phrase - whatever- but details like the kind one needs for papers are painful. It's a good thing that the actual book this time is endlessly fascinating, otherwise I'd have been in trouble.

The title in question is Tom Reiss's The Orientalist: Solving the Mystery of a Strange and Dangerous Life, about an eccentric dandy named Lev Nussimbaum/Essad Bey/Kurban Said. This terrific biography is about a man who had a short but rollicking life, fleeing from Bolsheviks and then Nazis, whilst chasing his Oriental dream. A Jew from the oil-producing region of Baku in Azerbaijan, Lev ended up escaping through desert and mountain, and converting to Islam before finding his place (for a while) in Weimar Berlin. He went on to publish both fiction and non-fiction bestsellers, and managed to make it through more a more than average number of scrapes before finally perishing in 1942.

I really loved this book. It has adventure, flamboyant and witty characters, history, romance, and tragedy. On top of that, I like the way the author tells the story, and how he tries to get to the bottom of the man behind the mystery, pursuing his trail in over ten countries. As a history person, I also appreciate the details and background information Reiss provides.

That's my recommendation for the day, or week, I guess. Just read it. You'll be glad you did.

Getting Crispy

This is the first weekend in months that felt like pre-promotion times. I read like crazy and enjoyed every minute of it. Perhaps it’s that nip of fall in the air (it’s still stiflingly hot during the day, but gets somewhat crispy at night), but the brain is ON.

I started with a book edited by Helen Small called The Public Intellectual.  It was really disappointing in that I could barely trace the relevance of several of the essays contained therein. A volume I picked up last year, I am annoyed at myself for buying it rather than taking it out of the library.

The second book was a text by Gwynne Dyer, whom I heard speak years ago when I was in CEGEP (that’s college, for those of you who have no clue what I’m referring to). A Canadian journalist living in Britain, this volume, entitled Future Tense: the Coming World Order, was really insightful. Even though it was published a couple of years ago, it is still most relevant. He talks about the present US leadership vis-à-vis the rest of the world, especially the Middle East. I appreciate his viewpoint, which is neither American, nor fully Canadian, nor quite British. It’s recommended.

Going along the theme of war (fun fun!), I read the absolutely brutal Swallows of Kabul by Yasmina Khadra. I love this author’s novels, but they are really heavy and always disturbing. Since reading The Attack, I’ve had this book on my radar, and only just got to it last night, finishing it this morning, at 2 a.m. It takes place in Kabul and focuses on two couples and their response to a Taliban-dominated existence. Khadra writes about mental unraveling in an eerily accurate way. One must read total fluff afterward to balance the cosmos a little.

And so I shall. In truth, I should be doing some prep for my upcoming book club, but I’m tired and have a crazy day ahead tomorrow. Since my muffins are out of the oven (carrot-bran this week), I think I’ll just go to bed. G’night.

Presents

Every day, you should give yourself a little present, be it a cat nap in your office or a good cup of rich dark coffee (so said Special Agent Dale Cooper in the hit TV series Twin Peaks). It’s sound advice if you ask me. This week’s gift to self consisted of time off; two lazy days of not much more than reading, going for walks, and otherwise hanging about.

You’d think I’d have read a huge pile of books, but this wasn’t the case. I finished my four and am in the middle of two audiobooks and six other titles.

Suite française by Irène Némirovsky was excellent. I read it in the original French version, and it was long but worth it. This book is destined to become a classic. The author, who was killed in a concentration camp in 1942, wrote about her adoptive country just as the Germans invaded. The book is actually incomplete in this printing (only two of the projected five parts of the tale are contained therein), but each unit is separate. The first section represents the experiences of a variety of Parisian characters as they try to flee the capital, and the second, life in the countryside with billeted soldiers.

The next book of the week was The Rabbi’s Cat by Joann Sfar. A graphic novel that won the prestigious Prix Angoulême a couple of years ago, this was a great little story set in Algeria and told from the point of view of a witty cat who, for a spell, could talk aloud. As a rule, my favourite kind of graphic novel is the French-inspired variety. I love the dark lines and illustration style. I can’t wait for the rest of the series to be translated so I could buy them for my library.

The reputable and prolific orientalist Bernard Lewis wrote the next book, entitled The Multiple Identities of the Middle East. This interesting and short book does much to illustrate how different groups in the region perceive themselves and others. The text was full of tidbits (yummy), and pointed things out that I hadn’t thought about before. For example: in Christianity, state and church are completely separate from the get go; this is not the case for either Judaism or Islam.

The last book I read doesn’t really fit in with the rest, having to do with customer service and work, but I started it last week and had to finish it. Overpromise and Overdeliver was actually really helpful, discussing what the author Rick Barrera calls ‘Touchpoints’, which are the zones of contact between the customer and your organization. I think I shall pass this one along to a few of my employees, as it has a lot to teach.

Next week will be really busy and I likely won’t be able to read as much, but I look forward to it nonetheless.

Nothing to Read

Yesterday I was frantically trying to find something to read and nothing at all held any appeal. At the library, I scanned at least eight carts of books and found very few I wanted to take home. Of the mountain of books strewn around my house, none quite fit the bill; they were too dense, too big, not quite the right subject, too much about work, requiring note-taking, or the type was too small. I truly do want to read every book (especially the library ones) I have at home, but they all have their time, which clearly is not now.

Similarly, on numerous occasions, I’ve heard patrons say that they have a whole library full of books and yet nothing to read. The thing to do in such circumstances is to find out what kind of mood they’re in and then try to match it. If I were to do this exercise on myself, the result would be:

• Not too big: I just can’t bear another 500-page commitment. Actually, I’m presently reading Irène Némirovsky’s Suite Française, which is about that size, but that’s because it’s on a waiting list and I feel pressured. Give me 200-page books for the next while please.
• Easy to read: I have been gorging on these dense history tomes which, although excellent, are weighty. I don’t want fluff, but the words really have to roll along.
• Audio: This is quite the desperate situation. I just finished Jack Welch’s Winning today while baking muffins, and I have nothing at all for tomorrow. The thing is, the audiobooks are getting increasingly popular in my library, and the nummy stuff is just not on the shelf. That’s one problem; I also have to find one each for my husband and father, both of whom are ripping through them faster than I can replace them (I’m working on it Dad!).

Another of my present reading issues is that I own the books I really want to read the most. Under normal circumstances, this would hardly be construed as a problem, except that I have to get to the library volumes first. And volumes there are. While on vacation, I take only my own books in case I lose those belonging to others. As there is no vacation in sight, that doesn’t work. The result is that scores of books lay untouched, in piles, on my home office floor.

If I had my druthers, I’d be reading classics. I used to only read classics and then got off them when I started working at the library in order to be of the world and find out what people were actually reading. I long for them again.

Some of you may find it nuts that I won’t just read what I want, but it’s impossible. Perverted, ridiculous, annoying – maybe – but it cannot be helped.

Tomorrow I will go to work and browse. Ultimately, I find that to be the best solution to the ‘nothing to read’ disease. That, or having someone you trust pick one out for you.