Books
Finished reading: The Fellowship Of The Ring by J.R.R. Tolkien 📚
By the end you know all the players, some have already been lost, others have played out their parts, and still more have shown the true good in their hearts, and the depths of evil the Ring may inspire them to should they come to possess it.
This is probably my tenth or eleventh time reading these books, but my first time reading it with my kids. Sure, I’m editing on the fly because they’re both younger than five, but they’re loving it.
Finished reading: Charlotte’s Web by E. B. White 📚 — ⭐️ ⭐️ ⭐️ ⭐️ ⭐️
Skip and dance, jump and prance! Go down through the orchard and stroll in the woods! The world is a wonderful place when you’re young.
It sure is.
What a hell of an amazing book to relegate to the unjustly dismissed “children’s” shelves. This book gets five stars, no question about it.
White manages to address, in my opinion, so many of The Important Things We All Should Learn About Rather Young If Possible, including misogyny/clueless men, bullies, transactional acquaintances, competition, the joy and sorrow of freedom, the dilemma of the naive but intelligent, parenting (well, let’s be honest, mostly motherhood), the distinction between pathology and an innocent’s rational-from-their-perspective perceptions, the rarity and value of adults who are aware of the immediately preceding concept (like the inimitable Dr. Dorian), evolution, religion, birth and death, and, of course, the intergenerational power of real, no-but-seriously-really-real friendship that reaches out beyond its originators and enriches those who come after, in ways known and unknown, for years or decades to come.
Like I said, just a hell of a book.
Sherlock Holmes giving serious Nardwuar vibes in The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle📚:
My name is Sherlock Holmes. It is my business to know what other people don’t know.
This particular quote, for nerds who know, is from adventure number seven, The Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle.
📚 Finished: The Restaurant at the End of the Universe (1980), ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
Yesterday I finished reading The Restaurant at the End of the Universe by Douglas Adams.
️Maybe not as ruthlessly original as, well, the original, but better than a Vogon poem.
Let the naysayers say their nays. Sure, it’s no Hitchhikers, but nothing was before, and nothing will be again. Unless we’re all living in a loop. In that case, Hitchhikers will, eventually, be Hitchhikers, again, er, for the first time.
I read it to my 1- and 3-year-old a little each day or so at bedtime. As I said when I started reading this book, I changed some words and skipped a few bits, but they could tell it was pretty silly, for a more a grown-up book than they’re used to.
Bottom line: It’s worth a read, which is a fair bit better than any of us should be saying about a lot of what’s written these days.
Including book reviews. 🙃
Read about my personal ratings framework for more information on my star ratings.
Currently reading: The Restaurant at the End of the Universe by Douglas Adams 📚
I’m reading this one with the kids at bedtime. I definitely do a bit of light word replacement here and there, mostly where death or sex are mentioned. But it’s fun, especially with the 3-year-old, who can understand just enough of it to be interested but has sufficient trouble keeping up with the weirdness to make it, eventually, conducive to falling asleep.
On bookstores
I’m in a bookstore, Joseph Fox in Philadelphia, and there are people here in the cramped sometimes hallway-narrow store with me. Many of them. People I mean. Some smell like rain. That’s how close they are. It’s raining outside and they’re coming into the store and I can smell the rain on them.
You have to look behind you and on both sides before kneeling or unkneeling or turning one way or another. And me personally I get the sense literally everyone else in the store is there to find a specific book and they’re all searching the stacks carefully, assiduously even. And here I am awkward and targetless and perusing aimlessly the myriad paper- and hardbacks.
That sweaty I-don’t-belong-here feeling creeps in slowly at first and then a major decision crashes into my field of vision: get it the hell together and be hunted by these books with a little goddamn dignity or get out go home leave now. As many who experience similar moments can no doubt relate to, my outward demeanor doesn’t change while this storm is raging behind my eyes. The capital v Visible me is cool as a cucumber as they say. The capital i Invisible me processes this all in a few blinks and when I open my eyes again I’ve decided to stay.
These days books are most easily purchased online. However, visiting a bookstore is a special and enviable thing. When I step into a bookstore I am aware only that there is a book looking for me. I almost never have one in mind but am dogged from the moment I cross the threshold with a sense that there is one, somewhere in there, which has me in mind.
It wasn’t Rilke, it never has been. I have read him, and I love him, but none of his books have ever shopped for me in a bookstore. I have often thought it was David Foster Wallace, and once even gave up early and bought The Broom of the System, lying to myself that it was the book I had been in the store to purchase. But it wasn’t, I had just grown a bit impatient and lazy and bought it and left.
The covers are part of it, the titles more so, but the randomly turned-to page most of all. No other indicator is as accurate in determining which tome hunts me. If the writing doesn’t stick in your heart like a grappling hook breaching the top of a prison wall, the book isn’t looking for you.
Today it may be George Musser’s Spooky Action at a Distance, about nonlocality in quantum mechanics. The title, the cover, and every passage I randomly turned and read all suggested a strong attraction between book and reader. Like a word on the tip of the tongue I was almost certain. But no, it isn’t the one. I want to read it, sure, but it’s not the one hunting me today.
In fact, today nothing was looking for me at all and so I leave with nothing new. Don’t for a moment think I wasted my time though. It’s nothing to be upset about. This visit was eventful and quietly explosive. There are sections and authors and books I must absolutely return to, whether here, physically, or online, digitally. Today was like an expedition into an unexplored region: though I return with no artifacts or specimens I have mapped whole tracts unknown to me until today.
Electronic books are convenient as hell, but I’ve never ended an Amazon or iBooks shopping session feeling like I’ve had a capital E Experience. It’s more efficient, simpler, faster and less anxious to look for books on a computer. But it just isn’t much fun.