Five Crazy Things: Indelible Books

Barbara: In another lovely serendipitous twist, last week I appealed to a local college for admittance into a creative writing course that had been categorized as “closed”. On Monday afternoon, they let me know I could take it. On Monday night, I was sitting in my first college class since, well, college! It was so so so so wonderful. One of our assignments was to list the first ten novels we thought of when asked which ones have made an indelible impression on us (and they don’t need to be fancy-shmancy, super-impressive books).

Now I throw the question out to you! But, of course, we’re doing FIVE only. I know you will all have dozens of favourite books for a myriad of wonderful reasons, but the real curiosity is: which FIVE do you think of FIRST?

1. A Prayer for Owen Meany, by John Irving

2. The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao, by Junot Diaz

3. Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, by Jonathan Safran Foer

4. 100 Years of Solitude, by Gabriel Garcia Marquez

5. A Handmaid’s Tale, by Margaret Atwood

All of these stopped my heart over and over: the language; the stories that pull you in, revealing the contortions and marvels of life, its ugly side, and its (yes, here’s that word again) serendipity; the unending spirit; the circular symmetry of life; and the fascinating enigma that is the human soul.

Deb:

1.  Father Joe

2.  The Lovely Bones

3.  Watership Down

4.  Rebecca

5.  The Chrysalids

Deb In Someone Else’s Autobiography

Barbara: I didn’t know what little tidbit I would share with you for today’s post, but then it occurred to me that in real life lately I keep talking about this book I’m reading, and then it occurred to me that the book is what I ought to deem worthy for today’s chat (*says in a haughty voice*).

The book is Too Close to the Falls and is an autobiography by a now-Canadian writer/psychologist, Catherine Gildiner, depicting her childhood years in Lewiston, NY. I’m reading it for my amazing Book Club—and I won’t lie: I wasn’t terribly excited to read another this-is-my-real-life-in-chapter-form (with all-the-chapters-taking-place-between-years-4-and-10, no less!!). But it was Book Club, so I waded gamely into the fray.

And, lo, I met this charming, irascible, feisty little kid who had any number of unusual encounters in early 50’s America. She stood up for herself and for every other decent human being in her life. And I just couldn’t shake the impression that I was meeting young Deb in full regalia.

Now I know this isn’t Deb’s story, but one of the things I’ve most loved about this blog is meeting that child of Deb’s yore—the one in the stories she shares with us sometimes. I’ve been surprised and delighted by insights into Deb’s young life—those childhood experiences that full-grown friends often don’t share with each other (we have so many other things to talk about, right?). And so I’ve been even more delighted and excited to read this adorable book.

And as I am reading, I’m also getting that certain feeling that, by odd osmosis, I’m getting to know and love our darling Deb even more. This is what they mean when they call someone “spirited”. It’s the best of all things human and humane. Thanks, Catherine Gildiner. And, of course, thanks my dear Deb.

Deb: I am going to use my Chapters Christmas gift cards and go get this book ASAP. In the meantime I am going to love you for thinking of my life when you read this book. Sweet sweet sweetness. I can’t wait. Remind me to blog about the time I thought my childhood life was in a Penguin book. I have been searching for that book ever since. It is fascinating! 

Great Holiday Reads

Barbara: As the time for holiday downtime is fast upon us (no matter what you celebrate, most of us get to at least enjoy the off-hours), I thought I’d offer up some of my favourite reads from this year.

My daughter recommended this one and it is awesome: The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao by Junot Diaz. It is fast-paced, intensely vivid, and often heartbreaking. Tragedy and curses lace the story, sort of like a hip, modern-day 100 Years of Solitude. But there is an undeniably beating heart at its core. The end took my breath away. And it won the Pulitzer Prize in 2008, so how’s that for a recommendation?

The Devil in the White City by Erik Larson is probably on lots of people’s lists right now. It’s a biography of the World’s Fair in 1893 Chicago, but with the intertwined stories of one of the worst serial killers in American history and the epic efforts of big city dreamers and schemers, it reads very much like page-turning fiction. Larson does write a bit melodramatically at times, but that doesn’t detract from a really satisfying read.

Like the above book, Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston was on my Book Club list this year. And it is a remarkable, amazing, poignant, brave, and singular story. Written in 1937 when women’s lit was still trying to be taken seriously, never mind that by African American women, this book captures time and place like few others I’ve read. She uses dialect through much of the book, which can be hard to read at first, but this only gets you closer and deeper into her visceral experience. It is so captivating, a great timeless read by any standard.


Any good holiday books on your shelf???

Ode To A Book Club

Barbara: When I talk to people about my book club, it gets a whole slew of reactions. There are those that get it right away. They are part of their own groovy club, filled with interesting people and great conversations. Or I get the wistful sigh, the romantic smile: Oh, a book club sounds so great; I wish I could find a group who’d be into it; I’d love to read more books.

But most people, MOST people, fairly rant at the notion. How do you manage to read a book every month?!! Who has the time?!! Isn’t there always one smart-ass who thinks they know everything and ruins it for the rest of you?!! Isn’t it really a competition for who can host the best meeting?!! Don’t most of the books suck?!! Don’t most people not even read the books?!! Do you even talk about books or is it all kids and menopause?!!

Okay, settle down.

I’m not trying to rub it in, I’m not trying to brag, but our book club is friggin’ AWESOME! We started with just a handful of women 13 years ago when my best friend, Charlotte, opened a literary coffee shop. The coffee shop was called Wuthering Bites. Oh, it was the cutest place ever. Art on the walls, musicians every few weeks, literary readings by prominent authors and fledgling ones (shyly raises hand). Sadly, it didn’t last. But the Wuthering Bites Book Club did. And it grew.

The end-of-the-year potluck under Barbara's copper beech. Thanks everyone!
 (yes, we've all been photoshopped to look like Angelina Joli)

We are now 19 women strong, ranging in age from mid-30s to 94 (yes, a rockin’ 94, would we were all so lively, lovely, and sharp). If we add another person to the group, our living rooms will explode. (Of course, not everyone can make it to every meeting, so hosting it is not as onerous as it sounds.)

Yes, we meet once a month. We read the books. Mostly. When we don’t, we come anyway and are inspired to read them. Someone—not always the same person—might have some interesting back-story on the book or author (usually from our friend, Google). It’s not that hard to read a book a month. It’s just a few pages a night if that’s all the time you have. Of course, the books don’t suck. They’re not always to everyone’s taste, but that’s what makes the meetings so interesting. Books you wouldn’t normally pick up open your eyes to worlds you might never otherwise explore. We’re lucky: our group has a great and open dynamic, no know-it-alls or bad-mouthers. Maybe it’s the age. And we always try to talk about the book as much as we can—we’ve gotten very good at getting back on track—but yes, we also talk about life and death and heartache and illness and triumphs and efforts.

It is really really special. I don’t see most of the women outside of Book Club, but I would dearly miss them if Book Club no longer existed. I see the world through gentler eyes when I’m around them. Diverse ways of looking at the same things can have that effect on you. You can see with your own eyes that every fictional and real life struggle has its natural trajectory. And that the human spirit triumphs every time. Even if it takes a while. Or seems insurmountable.

It is complex and it is simple.

It encourages us to read read read. And books and their authors need to be championed. Where would we be without our stories? I hold my head high when I extol the virtues of my book club. Even if I don’t always tell people our private—and very immodest––name for it.

(Okay, between you and me, it’s The World’s Best Book Club.)

Deb: I think it sounds just ducky. I am the world’s slowest reader so I would not be up on the books at the same speed as the others. But I believe that anytime, anywhere a group of people comes together to read, discuss, and trade ideas and concepts is a good thing. Not everyone has to be our best friend in our lives every day. It’s nice to have people from different walks of life come in and out of our world. It makes for a more meaningful life experience I think.

So onward and upward go ye of the book club. Keep sharing and supporting. Me? I’ll be the one in the corner with the wine and the Cliff Notes!