The Library Girl

Mushrooms

In orientation sessions at the library, I always forewarn new employees about the potential hazards of working in such an institution; namely, the colonies of library books that will sprout from their floors, dressers, tables, desks, night tables, and bags. Just when they think they have their reading under control, another irresistible book will pass under their noses, and they will take it home, lest they forget they want it.

I say ‘they’. I mean ‘me’, or at least, ‘me too’.

Piles, columns, stacks—call them what you want—I have them growing in my house at an alarming rate. There are the library ones, of course, then the ‘to read next’ sets (I do mean ‘sets’ in the plural; somehow there are just so many books demanding urgent attention). Those poor volumes that I actually own, get relegated to the back of the list, which seems to get longer and longer. It goes without saying that none of this stops me from going out and buying more, nor does it prevent me from taking them out from the library. As long as there’s surface area, there’s room. When that runs out, we’ll go vertical.

I’d say I wish I could stop myself, but that would be a flagrant lie. More books=pleasurable life.

Going to Massey

Every year, Massey College in the University of Toronto and CBC Radio co-sponsor the Massey lectures, inaugurated in 1961 “to enable distinguished authorities to communicate the results of original study or research on important subjects of contemporary interest.” Among the luminaries who have presented are: Claude Lévi-Strauss, Jane Jacobs, Robert Jay Lifton, Doris Lessing, Noam Chomsky, John Ralston Saul, and even Martin Luther King. These books are a non-fiction lover’s delight.

After reading Ronald Wright’s A Short History of Progress last year, I made a mental note to get through the lot of them, and today decided to get a move on with it, starting with Margaret Visser’s Beyond Fate. This is such an intelligent book, exploring the fatalism of people today; what it means to us and why we accept it. She discusses our perceptions of freedom and time; our use of metaphor; chance vs. fate; guilt and forgiveness vs. honour and shame, and much, much more. At every turn she supplies the Greek and Latin roots for words and concepts that have been modernized, and for that alone, I know she is my kind of person. I love her writing style, which is consistently excellent and engaging. Read her other books too, and I guarantee you enlightenment.

Conor Cruise O’Brien’s On the Eve of the Millennium suffers from acute anachronism, although one could say it was inevitable, given the subject of his lecture. This book is so much from a pre-September 11th world that it seems almost quaint, although it still has merit. For instance, he talks about how the democratic process has turned into a series of popularity contests (true), how all forms of social organization involve significant amounts of hypocrisy (truer), and how religion and nationalism have great staying power (alas, truest). I think this book was probably more meaningful when it came out in 1994, but I’d have read it anyway for this one line alone: “…the American Enlightenment resists decay because it is pickled in holy brine.”

Fluff 'n Grit

The two books I’ve read so far this week could not be more different; one is a fluffy-yet-enjoyable novel by Janet Evanovich, and the other, a forensic anthropologist’s true account of her work unearthing bodies in a number of sites including Rwanda and Kosovo.

Obviously, comparing or contrasting the two would be ridiculous, so I won’t even go there. One book certainly did not lead to the other, and both were selected for diametrically opposite reasons, although they were each recommended by a colleague (albeit, not the same one).

Metro Girl is Evanovich’s romantic suspense about a woman named Alexandra “Barney” Burnaby and her adventures in Miami trying to protect her brother from a Cuban gangster named Salzar. With the help of Texan NASCAR driver Sam Hooker and some friends, she saves not just her sibling, but the day.

I listened to this in audio format, knowing full well that it wouldn’t exactly be my type of book. As a public librarian, I serve all kinds of readers, and so must be familiar with as many genres as possible, which is why I picked it up. That, and no other audio books left on the shelf had any appeal. My colleagues found it fun and fast moving, and it was, although we agree that the actor reading the book didn’t suit the narrator. The audience for this novel is without a doubt the ‘chick lit’ set.

Clea Koff's The Bone Woman: A Forensic Anthropologist’s Search for Truth in Rwanda, Bosnia, Croatia, and Kosovo is a bit depressing given its subject, but both interesting and humanizing as well. At 23, the author was invited to join a UN scientific team to gather up forensic evidence for the International Crimes Tribunal in Rwanda. Over the course of a few years, she goes on several such missions, uncovering the ‘truth’ and returning victims to their relatives. Koff sets out to serve humanity in her career, and she is clearly fascinated and excited by what she does, which is proving that bones can talk. She offers both an outsider’s viewpoint as a person who did not live through the carnage, and an insider’s perspective as a scientist on how the forensic work is carried out, all the while revealing her personal and professional struggles.

My friend and co-worker S highly recommended this title, although it would have made my to-read list anyway because of the topic. In the last several months I have become very interested in the Rwandan genocide, a result of watching the powerful film Hotel Rwanda (believe me, it can do that to you), and because of my ongoing interest in African history and politics. I also love reading about people who don’t just think but act upon what they believe is right and get out there and do it.

If you can stomach gritty details like maggots and body parts, then please, read this book. What she writes is no more gruesome than a Kathy Reichs novel, but decidedly more potent because it is real and can happen anywhere.

Procrastination

I admit that I am posting tonight in an effort to procrastinate; I am giving a talk for my non-fiction book club at the library tomorrow evening on Roy Moxham’s The Great Hedge of India and I have yet to finish writing it.

Initially a recommendation from my friend A, a Toronto librarian (hereafter TOA), I read it a few years ago and thought it was fascinating. The author stumbles upon a footnote that leads to a three-year quest and obsession to find any remnant of the 2,504-mile barrier that divided India in the mid- to late-nineteenth century. Interspersed with his own narrative is a history of the Customs Hedge and Salt Tax.

This book is so attractive because it is unfathomable that such a massive and oppressive project could slip through the cracks of history, especially given that it wasn’t that long ago. Before its publication, nobody ever heard of this giant prickly hedge; now, the history books on the British Empire need to be re-written.

I enjoyed reading about Moxham’s research because he approaches his task as a librarian would. Lovely too are the descriptions of the warm and hospitable Indian villagers he meets. The best thing about this book, however, is the author’s burning desire to KNOW. I deeply appreciate projects fueled by intellectual curiosity, especially to that degree.

It’s all very much worth the effort in the end—for him because he finds a piece of the Old Line and for us, because we get to hear about it.

Little Books, Big Joy

I read four complete books in the last 24 hours. Unlike the usual process of reading small portions all week and then finishing them off on the weekend, this time, I left the longer ones for next week, and selected four shorter books that I’ve been meaning to get to for a while. One after the other, I read, ruminated, and then moved on.

I’ve never quite done this before, and it seems like a really bad way to appreciate books, much like wolfing down a meal instead of slowly enjoying every mouthful—a binge-and-purge kind of regard, which is to say none at all. Appearances, however, can be deceiving. I didn’t read any faster, nor skim over text. Like every other book I consume, I took notes; paused to share points of interest with loved ones, and savored well-written lines and imagery. The only difference between this and a regular book-person interaction is that instead of getting up after closing the monograph and doing something else, I picked up another one. None detracted from the other, I assure you.

The chosen four were really tasty too. A husband-wife duo, Nancy and Lawrence Goldstone, wrote the first selection entitled, Warmly Inscribed: the New England Forger and Other Book Tales. They’ve written many volumes to do with their love and search for collectible books and their adventures in the book world. All are equally pleasant to read. They have a style that makes you like them as people; the kind you invite over for tea and warm, intelligent conversation.

Nancy Pearl, in her More Book Lust: 1,000 New Reading Recommendations for Every Mood, Moment, and Reason, mentioned Mark Salzman as “too good to miss”. I trust her as a source, and so picked up the terrific Iron & Silk, a book about the author’s experiences teaching English and learning martial arts in China after finishing university. This man is smart, and diverse, and diligent, interesting and interested in just about everything and everyone. I’m glad I own this book so I can pass it on to a few people I know will love it.

The next title is one that everyone has seemingly read except me: Mitch Albom’s Tuesdays with Morrie: An Old Man, a Young Man, and Life’s Greatest Lesson. As expected, it was touching yet sad, meant to remind the reader that life is short and we control how we want to spend it. The theme of friendship resonates throughout the text, and it proves to be the most moving. This is the kind of book you hand to people when they are at a crossroads, or feeling down, or have lost perspective on themselves and their place in the scheme of things.

I went with a French children’s classic for the last selection, Le Petit Prince (The Little Prince), by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry. About companionship and loneliness, this is truly a delightful tale for the kid who, like the Little Prince himself, lives in a universe where grown-ups are often nonsensical, self-centered and even worse, unimaginative. The illustrations, drawn by the author, are wonderful.

Although it was a bit much to read that many books in so short a time, it certainly was an interesting exercise (sickly, I did indulge in thinking about its possibilities… if one were to do the same every day, it would result in an astounding 1460 books read per year).

I will honestly say that I didn’t think I’d be able to achieve the four-book goal this week because of work-related business. The next seven days will be even more jam-packed, as I have two book presentations to give. We shall see. I guess there’s a reason it’s called a challenge.

Looks May Be Shallow, But Stories Are Forever

I have yet to come close to the end of a book so far this week, but that’s because I keep picking up new ones. Not only are there hundreds, if not thousands of books out there that literally cry out: “Don’t I look fabulously interesting? Take me! Pick me up!”, but publishers have really begun to master the art of the alluring cover, and they work—even on me. Judging a book by its cover is supposed to be a faux pas, but the outside design of a book usually reflects what’s inside in terms of style, albeit less so quality. Most “Chick Lit” novels, for example, are distinguished by their curly writing, and white, pink, black and/or blue colours. Personally, I love smooth covers with spot varnish.

The handsomest jacket of all the books I am presently reading belongs to a novel by Karen Connelly called The Lizard Cage. I just started it, so I’ll let you know how it is a bit later on; so far, so good. I loved her first book, a work of non-fiction entitled, Touch the Dragon a Thai Journal, which won the Governor General Award.

Speaking of quality books… A new reading tradition just started in my household, and I think it will stick. Every night in bed, I read a chapter or two of a classic to my husband. The current selection is Alice in Wonderland, but I think it will be Dickens next.

I believe that adults need to be read to as much as children. The magic it inspires does not diminish with age; indeed, it becomes more appreciated. Audiobooks address this yearning for oral storytelling to a degree, but there’s nothing like an actual person reading aloud in front of you, or more importantly, especially for you. Close your eyes and listen...

Ye Shall Suffer to Taste Excellence

I did what could be called ‘cram-reading’ to get through the rest of the four titles this weekend, but despite the lower back pain associated with sitting for long periods of time, I am thrilled to have done so, as the books I selected were excellent overall.

Alan Lightman’s A Sense of the Mysterious : Science and the Human Spirit was simply inspiring. I preferred the autobiographical segments to those about other scientists, mostly because the enthusiasm he feels for both his crafts (physics and novel-writing) rubs off on the reader. Lightman revels in the inquisitiveness and determination of humans in a way I very much relate to.

The next book I completed was a French novel I had been glued to all week, Yasmina Khadra’s L'attentat. The English version, entitled The Attack, will be released in May of this year. Whatever you do, make sure you get to it. This is a positively gripping story, and the language the author uses, very sophisticated. A bomb goes off in Tel-Aviv and the suicide bomber, a woman, turns out to be the wife of the protagonist, a surgeon named Dr. Jafaari. We follow the doctor’s reactions to the news: his initial disbelief, then bewilderment, then despair at what has happened, and finally, his quest to understand how his wife could carry out such a deed.

I decided to go with non-fiction to cap off the week, as the last title really needed to steep. Alberto Manguel’s A Reading Diary : A Passionate Reader's Reflections on a Year of Books (subtitled differently in the United States) proved to be a good choice. The author is incredibly erudite, and in this book, he revisits one volume from his past a month, recording his thoughts in diary format. My first reaction was that my father would really like it, mostly because of the liberally scattered quotes, lists, and telling anecdotes throughout the text. For my part, I love any book that forces me to take notes, especially because of the beauty of the words or thoughts conveyed. Tomorrow I shall have to take out others in Manguel’s oeuvre so that I may delve further into the literary richness he has to offer.

Now It's Millions, Plus One

As promised, I finally read (or rather, listened to) the Da Vinci Code by Dan Brown. You may be wondering why, as such an avid reader and librarian, I didn’t read it in 2003 when it came out and the hoopla began. Right off the bat let me say that it wasn’t because it was so popular. I am not one of these people who refuse to get into something because it’s too mainstream. If anything is good, I don’t care if half the world loves it. Mostly, it was due to the fact that several of my trusted book-recommending sources said that it had plot-holes and the writing was pulpy. If that was the case, then I had better things to read. I always knew I would get to it eventually, however, and so I did.

When I first started listening, I was rather annoyed at how much it resembled the author’s previous title, Angels and Demons. It began in the same way, with a phone call waking symbologist Robert Langdon up in the middle of the night informing him that there’s been a murder of a prominent figure, and could he come right away. Brown’s formula has a beautiful but brilliant girl, and then a revealed twist about three-quarters of the way through. All the action is crammed into one day in both books. He likes using the Catholic Church in one way or another, and—this is what he popularized for the world—the gradual solution of some code or problem. It felt like Brown had written Angels and Demons, then it didn’t take but the author loved the concept, so he wrote the Da Vinci Code in the same vein, which, as we all know, soared.

In terms of overall enjoyment, I would say that yes, I did think this worth reading. It is fast-paced, it carries the reader, it is intelligent in terms of concepts, and the actor who performs the audiobook, Paul Michael, is terrific.

What’s more important to me than the actual literary quality of the book (which is average), is that it spawned a whole slew of titles like it, launching what is practically a genre in itself—the “code-breaker” suspense tale. While the Da Vinci Code started the phenomenon, it has already been surpassed by what I at least deem better books, such as The Rule of Four Ian Caldwell and Dustin Thomason (incidentally, excellent in audio format as well).

I greatly respect any book that is able to generate so much publicity and get people reading and talking about it in the thousands, if not millions. Kudos to any author that can make that happen.

For Every Occasion There Is a Book to Match

Every Saturday morning, my husband and I curl up on our respective couches for our weekly reading ritual. He sits with his pile of books and a thermos of coffee, and I get comfortable with my literary mountain, not just of books, but notebooks, magazines, and dictionaries, in addition to a steaming pot of green tea. We sit for hours, sharing interesting facts or fabulously written lines. There could not be a better way to start the weekend.

This week, being the first of my challenge, had not one but four glorious days of this kind, a result of my holiday vacation. I didn’t get to finish more than the allotted four however, as there was much to do for work and home.

It would be a misnomer to say that I started the year with ‘x’ book. Usually, I never just hunker down and read a single volume in one sitting unless I am obsessed with it (as I was for, say, The Historian by Elizabeth Kostova, which I devoured in sixteen or so continuous hours). Instead, I read anywhere from four to ten books concurrently, a mix for every mood and potential reading situation.

There is the physically and intellectually light public transportation book; then the bedtime book, usually fiction. I have a French volume going at all times, most often read at home so I can look up words in the dictionary. Non-fiction reading is reserved for the daytime at home as well, and these are the ones that serve as the ritual books, for the most part. My husband and I also have our shared car audiobook, and we each have one of our own for when the other is not there. It may seem complicated but it doesn’t feel like it in practice.

The first title of the year that I finished, then, was Normand Baillargeon’s Petit cours d’autodéfense intellectuelle. A how-to for critical thinking, it is not original in terms of content, but a very good sum of its parts, covering everything from media literacy to lying with statistics. It was a Quebec bestseller and I’d recommend it if you understand the language. It should be translated, but that’s not to say it will be.

It took no time at all to get through Joel Kotkin’s The City: a Global History, as it is short and sweet. I want to learn more about urbanity in the months to come, so I figured this was a good place to start, and I wasn’t disappointed.

Ever since my honeymoon in Paris, I have loved all things French, and I read what I can on l’Hexagone as books appear. My third book, Joan DeJean’s Essence of Style: How the French Invented High Fashion, Fine Food, Chic Cafés, Style, Sophistication and Glamour, surpassed my expectations. She proved her argument, and I like the way she organized her information. What’s more, she used primary documents, which always impresses me because of my history training. If you want to branch off from this book, there are different roads to take. You can read more on French character by picking up the excellent Sixty Million Frenchmen Can’t be Wrong by Jean-Benoit Nadeau and Julie Barlow. If it is luxury goods you’re after, go find a copy of Peter Mayle’s Acquired Tastes, where you can follow along as he samples the delicacies of the rich. Marian Fowler’s Hope: Adventures of a Diamond is useful for fleshing out the Sun King’s luster as well.

The last book of the week is The Club Dumas, a novel by Arturo Pérez-Reverte. I loved the glimpse into the rare book world, but desperately wished that I had read the Three Musketeers beforehand—mental note to get to it one day. The movie The Ninth Gate was based on this book, but it has a different focus. Normally, I detest seeing the movie before reading the story, but I saw it so long ago that I wasn’t too tainted.

Next week’s read will include the Da Vinci Code (no, I haven’t read it yet), and l’Attentat, among others. I’ll keep you posted.

Four Books a Week Keeps the Mind Tweaked

You’ll never catch me prepping for a marathon, at least not the variety that entails actual running. Physically, the challenge before me involves not much more than balancing a book or five in one arm, and a tray with a pot of tea in the other. I am a librarian, to be sure, but more than that, I am a bibliomaniac. If I could, I would read a book a day, but that wouldn’t be realistic. Four books a week, however, seems perfectly doable.

There is no lack of published material about people’s “Reading Years”, be it Alberto Manguel, Nick Hornby, or Sara Nelson, to name a few who have shared their choices with a general audience. Why then, is mine any different? Well…First, there is the question of quantity. In all of the above books, the author/readers got through about a volume a week or less. Perhaps they read more but chose not to tell us about it, but I just found it to be not enough. For me at least, 52 books a year poses absolutely no difficulty.

Second, I am in the book business on the consumption side of things. I deal with readers just like you on a daily basis, people who come to the library looking for a great read. What they want are recommendations from a trusted source, someone to filter the thousands of new titles every year, not to mention the sea of older ones. Since most people do not have the time to get through as many books as I propose to read this year, they can at least do so vicariously through me and then select for themselves those that hold the most appeal.

Finally, everyone’s reading selections are unique, so having looked at one person’s should have little bearing on whether you peruse another’s, as all of them are equally interesting, at least in theory. The concatenation of titles I devour in a year is highly varied, a mix of fiction and nonfiction, old and new, French and English, with a couple of Young Adult books thrown in for good measure. I read writers from all over the world, at a range of literary levels.

Although I am a professional librarian by occupation, this is not a ‘librarian confidential’-type of blog. It is about being a Reader, one whose greatest joys can most often be found ‘between the covers’. I will of course discuss the books themselves and my reactions to them, but the focus will be more about the challenge, especially given that I have a full-time job.

The parameters of my goal are relatively simple: I must finish four books each week, in paper or audio (unabridged) formats, without skimming. These will not be mere picture or coffee-table books either, I assure you. Some will be slender while others will be bricks.

Here beginneth, then, the mental marathon...