I. Thanks for the update, Cranberry.
II. Favorite books:
Guilty pleasure category: The Discworld series by Terry Pratchett (my interest is so complete that I’ve been spending money that would otherwise go to whistles on advanced promo copies and signed first editions).
Takes me home: The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain (the greatest book ever written in America, in my opinion).
Makes me think: books by Sherri Tepper, including her pseudonyms A.J. Orde and B.J. Oliphant. She’s perhaps best known for the post-apocalyptic The Gate to Women’s Country.
“Glad I didn’t live then” category: The Brother Cadfael series of mysteries by the late Ellis Peters (Edith Pargeter). The fun comes in learning how the 12-century Benedictine monk and herbalist solves the crimes without the aid of modern forensic sciences. I found the series shown on Mystery with Derek Jacoby to be disappointing and not true to the overall hopeful spirit of the books. The books do require a more careful reading than modern “page turners” since the language is leisurely and uses some terms not in common use.
Guilty pleasure, part two: Books in the Flashman series by George MacDonald Frasier. I get more history that way than from the History Channel. The last one I read was Angel of the Lord about John Brown’s raid on Harpers Ferry. Frasier inserts the fictional Harry Flashman (a randy bounder and confessed coward) into a historical conflict, and often on both sides. They’re sort of bodice rippers with a lot of research–the footnotes and appendices are extensive, especially for a work of fiction.
Special project catetory: Moby Dick (Melville) and Green Shadows, White Whale (Ray Bradbury). I had not read Moby Dick when I discovered Bradbury’s book about his time in Ireland with John Huston, writing the screenplay for the movie. How Bradbury survived the ordeal–Huston was psychologically brutal–is part of the story, as is the development of the screenplay. He also recounts events that became his earlier short stories set in Ireland. After reading Bradbury’s book, I decided I needed to read Moby Dick and then view the movie, of which I had only seen snippets. After I did that, I’d re-read Green Shadows, informed with the additional background. When I finished Melville’s book (on the commuter train) and rented the movie, and re-read Bradbury’s book, I wrote to Mr. Bradbury, explained my little project, and asked him to autograph the copy of his book that I included. He graciously wrote a lengthy note using the entire flyleaf and enclosed a photocopy of the Far Side cartoon showing Melville in writer’s block–“Call me Fred…” “Call me Bob…” What a guy! He’s my hero–I’ve been reading him since the 1960s.
There are a few books for which I’ve broken my “must finish book” rule, and some of them are by Anne Rice. I found her choice of themes offensively immoral (I won’t read something apparently approving of incest) than her writing style.
Reading is one of my great pleasures. When I was in my teens, I dreamed I lay dying from some sort of ailment. My only regret (I dreamed) was that I hadn’t read all the books I had wanted to.
Now, in hindsight, I think we should all be so lucky to die with unread books as our only lapse. (I signed my will last week. Are YOUR affairs in order?)
M
