November Nesting – Make a warm drink, grab a book, settle in . . .
November 28, 2009
The snow is coming and accompanying it, with any luck, is some truly nasty weather. Why the ill sounding wish? Wet, white and wind create the perfect excuse (as if you need one!) to do nothing but snuggle into the couch with a book.
If you aren’t nodding your head excitedly at the above scenario, it’s because you’ve forgotten a deep truth. Everyone loves to read. No, seriously, they do. Even if they don’t know it’s true yet. There is, literally, a book or magazine to catch anyone and everyone’s fancy.
Too many people associate books with drudgery: lists of vocab words, pages of comprehension questions, blathering discussions . . . Still others—the horror!—have linked books with feelings of failure, of “not getting it,” of feeling stupid. Some of us have forgotten—or not yet experienced—that reading is a deep pleasure, the silliest form of fun, the most intense, intimate form of personal connection—and the best dang source of practical, factual information out there.
Read widely, read unashamedly, and read what you want. A “fantastic” book is always a matter of personal preference, whether it’s a history of war, a romance, a mystery, or a How-To-Fix-Your-Motorbike manual.
In no particular order, here are a few recommendations—lots of non-fiction, which is weird for me, since I’m a fiction addict, but like I said, good is good.
Searching for the April Moon by Nancy Robertson, a Prince Rupert writer. This stick-with-you collection of personal essays shows the beauty and deep value of relationships, especially within family, even as it explores the damage and confusion we cause accidentally (and sometimes not). We laugh at childhood recollections—and shake our heads with dismay and recognition of life’s harder elements. We ride our bikes in Baja and scurry along rainy Rupert streets. Our hearts break, but we find love again. We disappoint our kids—and are disappointed. We mourn parents as they age and pass away . . . Most of all, we grow to accept and celebrate that relationships don’t have to perfect, or fixed, or even fully understood to be exactly what they’re meant and needed to be.
The Practice of Poetry – Writing Exercises From Poets Who Teach, edited by Robin Behn and Chase Twichell. If you, or anyone you know, expert or novice, dabbles in the form (or wishes to), this is the perfect book. Its short essays inspire thought, and its practical, specific exercises (if completed) give that lovely thrill: I’ve written a poem!
28 Stories of Aids in Africa by Stephanie Nolen. I confess that I recommend this book, newly added to my own to-read pile, on the beset of my friend, Sarah Zimmerman. She couldn’t say enough good things about it, calling it “powerful, insightful and a little heart wrenching.” What really swayed me to decide to read it though was her comment—“It makes you understand why we should care about a place so far away.” It’s not that I don’t care; it’s that sometimes, wrapped up in my own secure life, I can become shamefully insulated against the realities so many other people live.
On a similar note, my husband is still, years later, affected by Shake Hands With the Devil – The Failure of Humanity in Rwanda by Romeo Dallaire. I find such unflinching accounts of the horrible things humans do to each other hard to read, but valuable. Perhaps one day (soon, please) we will know enough to say, It must stop, and make it thus.
Blankets by Craig Thompson is a graphic novel that convinced me that the phrase graphic novel isn’t an oxymoron. Not for children by any stretch, I was (still am) awed by the intensity of emotion and the depth-of-content such “simple” illustrations and text can render. Some folks will hate it, but especially for people with any kind of fundamentalist church background, it’s a deeply moving, thought-provoking book—as sensitive and lovely as it is sharp-fingered poking at a bruise.
And last but not least—I recommend Peter Abrahams. Yes, the whole author, not just one book. I just discovered him this year and thought, “Hey, where have you been all of my life?” If you like crime novels/thrillers, he’s for you—and is, regardless of genre preferences, a stinking good writer. A master.
Here’s to a deliciously cold season of good reading. May you never run out of books—and if you have to venture off the couch, make sure it’s for a truly important reason: a trip to the bookstore. A jaunt to the library.
First published in The Terrace Standard, Nov. 25, 2009
