Citizen Reader

Susan Hill's memoir of a year spent reading, Howards End Is on the Landing: A Year of Reading from Home, was so great that I only allowed myself one chapter of it per day, to make it last. It was the book equivalent of a box of chocolate truffles.

Hill is a British author who specializes in ghost and detective stories (her novel The Woman In Black has been made into a film, starring Daniel Radcliffe, of Harry Potter fame, that will open in 2012), but she's clearly very widely read and seems to know or at least have met everyone who's anyone in the British publishing scene. In this memoir, she moves through her own house and bookshelves, explaining why she finds certain books the places she does, and the experiences she relives in revisiting and re-reading them.

Normally these books don't do a whole lot for me. But this one was so wonderful, so straightforward, so imbued with a love for books and reading that I found myself wanting to run right out and get everything she suggests. I also happen to agree with Ms. Hill on her attitude toward the printed book:

 "It ain't broke: the book, that is. I know because I just went round the house looking for something to read, and on the way I reassured myself that as the book ain't broke around here, I do not propose to fix it with an electronic reader. Yes, let's use the whole word. Let's tell it like it is. Electronic reader. Something monotonous-looking and made of plastic, is grey and has a screen...I will stick to paper and print and pages for reading books. If it ain't broke. Of course, someone wants to persuade us that it is so that they can sell us their device. 'Twas ever thus." (p. 76.)

Awesome.

But the real genius of her book is in her descriptions of the books she has read and loved: she makes you want to read each and every last one of them. I found a lot of great authors who I already love referenced (she's got a great Penelope Fitzgerald story), and Hill also introduced me to other writers I now want to read. And in addition to recommending specific authors, she also makes a grand case just for READING:

"But if the books I have read have helped to form me, then probably nobody else who ever lived has read exactly the same books, all the same books and only the same books, as me. So just as my genes and the soul within me make me uniquely me, so I have the unique sum of the books I have read. I am my literary DNA...

All through the house, the books are murmuring, turning over in sleep like pebbles on the shoreline as the tide recedes." (p. 202.)

Awesome. Just awesome.

Every now and then, because I am a nerd, I read books about reading and how to help others find books they might enjoy. Recently I looked through Michael Sullivan's reference book Serving Boys Through Readers Advisory, and found it to be kind of an interesting little read and handy guide for thinking about how boys read.

I've always been quite interested in gender differences and reading preferences*, to the point where I have actually wandered around Barnes and Noble on a regular basis specifically to see what sections men and women are browsing in, so this book spoke to a longstanding interest in readers and readers' advisory. Also, now that I have a little boy, it's personal.**

The first finding in this book that I found very interesting was Sullivan's citing the finding that "boys read, on average, a year and a half below girls throughout their school years, with a small gap from the first day of school and the widest gap later on." (p. 15.) That's pretty significant, and makes me snort with indignation when I think about "reading levels," "lexile" numbers, and Accelerated Reader programs that make no distinction between boy and girl readers. I also enjoyed the findings that boys read and enjoy nonfiction from an early age, and that they often pick books far ahead of their abilities (including a wide variety of adult books). Sullivan points out that this can actually be just fine--even if the boy doesn't know what five or more words per page mean (a standard distinction for finding whether a book is at a child's level or not, evidently), he can often get what he needs out of the text anyway by just reading and accepting what he DOES understand. I can see, then, why nonfiction appeals--it's easier to skim, and to read in stops and starts.

I also love the section on working with parents and kids--pointing out that a good first question for dads (and, to a lesser extent, mothers and other family members) looking for books for their boys is "what has the boy seen YOU reading?" I have long believed that public libraries in particular are very good about running programs to encourage kids to read, but do not do enough to support adult readers--primarily because I believe that if kids saw their parents reading, they'd be interested in reading too.

The book concludes with chapters of nice sample book talks and booklists for elementary, middle school, and high school age boys; and book lists in a variety of genres, including nonfiction, humor, fantasy, sf, gothic horror, sports, and realistic.

*Much more so than, say, age differences, although I suppose that will change as I age.

**I've been very nervous about and relieved to check off CRjr's various developmental milestones, but the physical skill that made me cry with joy was when he first started flipping the pages of his board books by himself. Oh, and feeding himself. I LOVE watching him feed himself--with both hands, unceasingly, until his food is gone. He's got his mother's appetite.

I'm so sorry I missed these two books in the weeks before all the big winter holidays; they would have made great gifts. Need birthday gifts (or late Valentine's gifts?) for any readers you know? I'd like to suggest a couple of titles.

Read This Next: 500 of the Best Books You'll Ever Read, by Sandra Newman and Howard Mittelmark,* is one of those fantastic readers' guides that is almost as fun to read as many of the books its authors suggest. In various sections on love, memoir, family, history, politics, humor, work and money, war, religion, and death (you can see they've covered all the bases), the authors list books you should read, histories of and book-group-ready questions about those books, and lists of other related titles you might like. They also do all this, bless them, in a witty way. This is how their section on "Love" opens:

"O love! How manifold are your stings! How versatile your applications! Love is sweet and bitter, pungent and cloying, brittle and squishy, in and out. In Saudi Arabia, they stone you to death for it. Meanwhile, in France, it is compulsory for third graders...

These twelve books will clarify (or inspire) the misadventures in your own life. At the very least, they will show you that--however bizarre, wonderful, sordid, or humiliating your experience--you are not alone." (p. 3.)*

Another great "books about books" title out there is Books: The Essential Insider's Guide (City Secrets), edited by Mark Strand. It's actually part of the "City Secrets" series of guide books, but instead of learning a city's secrets, you learn the secrets of literature. In this book authors such as Oscar Hijuelos, Calvin Trillin, Adriana Trigiani, and many others offer short essays on forgotten or little-known books they think you should read. And the titles! Wonderful. I've never heard of any of them. (Examples: The Armada, by Garrett Mattingly; Black Milk: Poems, by Tory Dent; Elizabeth Smart's By Grand Central Station I Sat Down and Wept.) Truly a book for the person who thinks they've read everything. And it's very aesthetically pleasing, too; with thick, glossy paper, and not one but TWO little ribbon bookmarks already attached to the spine. Lovely.

*Titles they suggest on "Love" include Madame Bovary, by Gustave Flaubert; Enduring Love, by Ian McEwan; and Marriage: A History (nonfiction!) by Stephanie Coontz.

*Thanks to Stacy Horn, at whose great blog I first read about this book.

If I had world enough and time, I would take the book London Lore: The Legends and Traditions of the World's Most Vibrant City (by Steve Roud) into a room with me, my fuzzy red throw blanket, and some coffee and bon-bons, and never come out. And I'd like to do this during a month like we're currently having: way too much snow and ridiculously cold.*

Roud shares tidbits of history and legend from every nook and cranny in London--and I do mean every one. It's a thick book, with dense printing, organized so that each chapter covers a different borough and is further subdivided according to its stories, with headings like "Cock Lane, Smithfield." I read a bit of the first chapter ("Cock Lane is an inconspicuous, narrow thoroughfare, off Giltspur Street, Smithfield, which suddenly acquired international fame in 1762 when a house in the road became the scene of one of the best-known hauntings in London's history..."), but the sad fact of the matter is that I'm not going to have time to read the whole thing, and truthfully, it just reminds me I'm not IN London and therefore makes me sad.

But I have a plan! Not to put too much pressure on CRjr or anything, but I have this dream that during college he'll study abroad for a year--at Oxford! And while he does Mr. CR and I will move to London for six months, to be able to see him once in a while and to take an extended look around ourselves!! And then I can take this book along and have time to explore with it. Right? It'll totally happen, right?**

*Cold is one thing, but next week our forecasted highs are set to be several degrees below the normal LOWS for this time of year. And we've got so much snow (yes, yes, I know, still nothing compared to what the East coast has been getting this winter) that backing blindly out of our driveway between the monster drifts/snow piles on each side has become a suicide mission.

**I know it'll never happen. For one thing CRjr probably won't be able to afford college anywhere (have you seen how fast tuition is going up these days?), much less Oxford, and for another, he may grow up to find someplace like, say, France, more interesting than Great Britain.*** But I can still dream.

***This is the sort of thing I worry about, to keep myself from worrying about his health and peer pressure and other mundane crap like that.

I couldn't resist a title like The Secrets of People Who Never Get Sick, by Gene Stone.

It's a simple enough premise. Journalist stone relates the stories of twenty-five individuals or groups who "never get sick," and reveals their secrets. A few of them are things you can't really influence: such as living in "blue zones" or having good genes, but the majority of them are things you can. There's some basic stuff: germ avoidance, napping, stresslessness, taking vitamin C, but there are also things a bit farther afield:

"So each morning Bill pours a coffee cup's worth of hydrogen peroxide into a sink filled with lukewarm water, shuts his eyes, puts his head in the sink, and blows bubbles through his nose to get the mixture circulating." (p. 95.)*

It's a readable little book, especially for a self-help/health title. The chapters are short and punchy, and Stone frames each of the tips around the story of a person who actually follows the regime (and does well by it). But I'm not going to finish it (turns out that good health isn't all that exciting to read about, although it's very exciting to have it), and I'm also not going to be following a hydrogen peroxide regime. I just know I'd find a way to poison myself, and that's not really worth it. But if you're looking for some new and healthy ideas for the new year? This book might be a fun place to start.

*Incidentally, don't try this without getting the book and reading disclaimer about this habit, including not breathing in any of the peroxide water.

Who wants to earn their keep as a reference librarian today?

My sister has asked me if there is any sort of manual or reference book about different TYPES of writing; not a grammar guide, mind you, but a book which might provide an overview of different types of prose writing (persuasive, essays, etc.) and/or one that might even include fiction or storytelling conventions. I told her I'd look around, meaning primarily in my basement (where most of my books are), as I thought at one time I had some sort of wire-bound book with just that sort of information in it.

I can't find anything, though, aside from my beloved copy of Strunk and White's Elements of Style, my outdated AP Style Manual and Libel Guide from my short, in-college-only journalism career, and a few other grammar guides. Anyone out there have any ideas on this one? What's in those MLA and APA style guides? Just rules for citation formats and things like that?

I will continue to look around places that aren't my basement as well, but in the meantime my sis and I thank you for any assistance.

I can't really say I'm enjoying the title The Womanly Art of Breastfeeding.

This is not to say it doesn't contain some good and helpful information. But it's produced by La Leche League International, and let me tell you, these people are propagandists of the most skilled order. I'll take their information, but the multiple "testimonials" sprinkled throughout the text are almost more than I can stand. Consider:

"When I was two, my mother came home from the hospital cradling two mysterious bundles wrapped in soft blue blankets. One was my new baby brother. She handed me the other. Underneath the folds of that soft blanket was a beautiful doll, which my mother explained would be my special baby...

Twenty-five years later I gave birth to my first child. The day I came home, I sat in our wooden rocking chair, and as I held my son close and nursed him, he opened his eyes to gaze at me. At once, an overpowering recollection of that early childhood memory returned, and tears began to flow as I realized, 'THIS is what I have waited my whole life to do!'" (p. 3.)

Oh, brother. And that's just the first chapter. Numerous quotes follow, saying things like "my baby found the nipple all by herself!" "Latching is magical!" "Breastfeeding is the only reason to go on living!"

Okay, I made that last one up. But you get the idea. Call me cranky (you won't be the first to do so, or the last) but I'm looking for the breastfeeding manual with quotes like this:

"Like everything else in life, at times breastfeeding's going to be pretty tricky, and at times quite annoying, but hey, it can be good for the baby, and sometimes you might get a kick out of it, so hang in there."

Can anyone suggest a book like that for me?

I'm still reading various chapters in Leslie Carroll's fun Notorious Royal Marriages, so not much new to report today.

However, I did want to mention a neat little book I looked at over the weekend, titled Household Cleaning Self-Sufficiency, by Rachelle Strauss. Now, I hate cleaning, but I don't mind reading about it, primarily because I am a very inefficient cleaner, and I have always had this idea that if I just figured out HOW to clean, it would go a lot better. Because I always leave cleaning too long, I have also always relied on typical and harshly chemical cleaning products, which is a habit I'd like to break.

So I've looked at a lot of "green cleaning" books, and photocopied some recipes for cleaning solutions out of them (like mixes using borax or vinegar to address bathroom mildew spots), but I've never really found one that I thought it would be useful to own. But Strauss's book is the exception. It offers very logically laid out chapters, and succinctly lists what chemicals are in regular cleaning products that you should avoid (and why), what natural ingredients you can buy and use, and then a few chapters of specific ways you can clean various areas in your house. It's only 125 pages long, so it's not overwhelming, and it's pragmatic more than it is "earth mother." (Some of these books are so intimidating it's ridiculous; with recipes saying things like "slaughter your own hog. Then drip its tallow through charcoals to make lye, which you can then use as soap..."*) And, it's only $12.95. If you're looking for one household manual to pick up, or maybe even a useful gift for a change to give at a bridal shower or wedding, consider this one.

*I'm making this example up. Please do not try and make your own lye.

When I first looked at Erin Bried's book How to Sew a Button: And Other Nifty Things Your Grandmother Knew, I thought, huh, maybe I should buy this book and actually learn something.

But, as with all my good intentions, I got over it. I enjoyed the book, and there are a lot of useful things in it, but the majority of the tips and how-tos cover skills and tasks I'm simply never going to do. Every now and then I would just pick it up to flip through it a little bit, and it always opened to the chapter on "how to make an apron." This was unfortunate, as I have a perfectly good apron that I stole from Country Kitchen the summer I worked there (if you could have seen my tips from all the old couple customers, you'd know I EARNED that apron), and I'm not about to dink around trying to sew a new one. But I digress.

Other chapters include very handy outlines for the following: how to roast a whole chicken (this I should actually learn); how to compost; how to install a clothesline (this I really do want to learn); how to kill mildew; how to shine your shoes; how to unclog a drain; and many, many, more. Actually, the more closely I look at it, the more I think it is kind of a neat little book. Sadly, though, most of the directions are not hand-holding enough for me. The clothesline instructions, for example, are basically: "Dig two holes in the ground about 1 foot wide and at least 1 foot deep in your desired location. Prepare your cement according to the instructions on the bag. Spray one hole with water, fill it halfway with cement, plumb your pole, and then top of with cement..." (p. 70.)

Uh, yeah. It's nice to make it sound that easy, but it seems like plumbing the pole should involve more steps than me eyeballing it in a half-ass kinda way (which is, really, how I end up doing everything). Or maybe I'm just making everything harder than it needs to be.

Anyway, my issues notwithstanding, it's still an interesting concept for a book and I give Bried kudos for throwing it together, and for encouraging self-sufficiency.

My laptop is back home after what one hopes was a relaxing week at the laptop repair spa. It is lovely to have it back, although I must say I didn't completely miss it--I have gotten in the very bad habit of popping on to it way too frequently to check email and flip through websites and, in general, waste time. I work in my living room, so what I used to do was leave it on standby all day when I wasn't working, and just bring it back up every time the whim struck me. The nice technicians at the repair shop, however, have informed me that putting my "older laptop" into standby that often is actually very bad for it, and I would be better off turning it on and off if I'd like to continue squeezing at least another year of productivity out of it. So I have made the resolution to try and do my work in more concentrated bursts, and then just turn the computer off  and do other things. I am hoping this is better for the computer and better for me.

In my extra reading time this past week I chanced across something called The Bibliophile's Devotional: 365 Days of Literary Classics, by Hallie Ephron. I'll admit that what I really found interesting about this one was the author blurb: "Hallie Ephron, Ph.D., is a critically acclaimed writer. Her latest novel is Never Tell a Lie...She is the author of 1001 Books for Every Mood...her book on mystery was an Edgar Award finalist. She teaches at writing workshops throughout the country and is also an award-winning book review columnist for the Boston Globe."

Now that's an author blurb I totally covet. How do I get to be all those things (without the work of becoming a Ph.D., of course)? The book itself is just what it says it is: a listing of days, with a book classic listed for each day, complete with title, author, summary, and quotes. The book for today, April 15 (happy tax day, everyone) is Andre Dubus III's novel House of Sand and Fog (in which a house is mistakenly seized for back taxes). I'll admit I also looked up the book for my birthday, and I checked to make sure that Ray Bradbury's autumnal classic Something Wicked This Way Comes was listed somewhere in October (it was). It's a neat book, and might make a good gift for any dedicated readers you know.

I'm not quite sure how I ended up with the habit of reading business books.

Well, that's not quite right. I know how I started. Library Journal had an opening for business and economics book reviewers, and I wanted to review for Library Journal, so I applied for it. Then I just started reading business books I didn't have to review, because I thought they would give me insight into the business world. This is something I could use, as I totally don't understand the business world. I mean, I understand it, in that I believe most businesses nowadays are out to screw me (telephone and internet service company, I'm looking at you), and I know from knowing salespeople that one of their favorite methods is to mirror your physical actions and motions so you feel more comfortable around them and are therefore more amenable to their sales pitches.* But real insight, I thought, would be a useful thing.

I don't know that I've gained a lot of insight over the years of reading business titles. But I have found this: when I find a good business book, it's always a book that really gets to me, or completely changes my thinking, or opens my eyes to some new ideas. Sometimes they even make me laugh. And that's worth something, even if I have to read or look at 100 books to find one good one.**

Take a book like Jonathan Pond's Safe Money in Tough Times: Everything You Need to Know to Survive the Financial Crisis. It's a fantastic book (I put it on the Library Journal Best Business Books list this year, and it was one of the picks I felt most strongly about) and if you want to know more about the financial mess we're in OR some great, common-sense ways to approach your own earning, saving, and investing, this is the book for you. In addition to finding it useful, I also found the author's clear-eyed approach to the world enjoyable. This was my favorite part of the whole book:

"Reevaluate any contemplated major purchases, such as a home, home improvements, or an automobile, in light of the current economic situation. While the economy may benefit from these purchases, it may make sense to postpone them. (You can rely on other members of your community to boost the economy by buying things they neither need nor can afford.)" (p. 14.)

Come on. Even if it's in a how-to business book, that's funny. So that's why I hang in there on the business books. Every now and then, as in John Bowe's Nobodies, Ben Mezrich's The Accidental Billionaires***, and Paul Midler's Poorly Made in China (as well as anything written by Michael Lewis), they actually open my mind in ways I never expected. So do consider a business book this weekend. It may not make you happy, but it might blow your mind OR give you a laugh. Both good things.

*Ewww.

**Really, that's about the ratio.

***About the founder of Facebook, who is icky, and who could care less about your privacy, especially if he can sell it for profit.

Before I get to today's post, I have to be mercenary for a second and make some announcements about my own writing. (I know: obnoxious. I'll try to be quick.) If by any chance you are a librarian or library staff member, and you are at the PLA conference in Portland today, AND you are reading this blog (what are you doing here? Go to the exhibits and get some free advance reading copies already!), you should know that Nancy Pearl is signing copies of our new book, Now Read This III: A Guide to Mainstream Fiction, at the ABC-CLIO/LU booth (#1723) from 2:30 to 3:30. (Other good signings are taking place there today too.)

Also: A new book about readers' advisory to which I contributed a chapter is now available! The Readers' Advisory Handbook, edited by Jessica Moyer and Kaite Mediatore Stover, has been published by ALA Editions. My chapter is about "Nonfiction Speed Dating"--getting to know nonfiction books in a few easy steps--and if you'e so inclined, you can preview it here (my chapter starts on page 6 of the PDF file). The book also includes contributions about audio books, how to write reviews and annotations, preparing materials like bookmarks and booklists, and how to host author events. Good stuff!

And now: the love affair with reading stuff. Something you should know about me is that I continue to struggle to find ways to make a living that include reading and writing.* To some extent I have been borderline successful at this, but the thing about reading for a living is that you put in a lot of hours that aren't, for lack of a better term, billable. For example, yesterday I started a book titled Memoir: A History, by Ben Yagoda. I'm reading this book for work, as I hope to review it over at the Reader's Advisor Online blog. But the time it takes me to read the book is time that I can't really bill to anyone. So sometimes I do feel I should stop mucking about, and go back and get a real hourly job already. But then...something happens. I've only read the first chapter of the book so far, and it was wonderful. I took notes, and it felt so good to be learning and doing something that wasn't (to me, anyway) pointless. And it was satisfying because I know something about memoir and many of the landmark titles Yagoda mentions (and everyone sometimes likes to know they know what they should know). So I decided, what the hell. Even if I have to put in ten unpaid hours for every paid one, I am going to find a way to make this life work.

The feeling was compounded when I walked to the library and home yesterday, and picked up a book I had requested, titled Pictures, by Jeff Bridges (yes, the actor). It was big and beautiful and I was so excited it came in that halfway home, when I had a long block to walk, I took it out of my bag and looked at the pictures while I walked. I hadn't done that for ages, and it felt really good. Just for today, if you can--rekindle your love affair with reading. Take a book outside at lunch. Take a small book with you wherever you have to wait in line. Ignore a household duty to read an extra chapter. You'll feel better for it, I promise.

*And by "making a living," I don't mean anything crazy like getting rich or even borderline affluent. I mean being able to buy my own health insurance for me and Mr. CR (and have some cash left over for food), which I couldn't do at this point. It's so sad that that's the real yardstick for success in this country. Greatest country in the world!

The other day I was charmed when I visited RickLibrarian's blog site* and found that he had devoted an entire post to the subject of picture sections in biographies. I was enthralled because pictures are sometimes my favorite parts of biographies; no matter what, I'll always flip to the picture section and read all of the captions carefully before reading the book.

Rick is a librarian and the author of the fabulous nonfiction readers' guide Real Lives Revealed: A Guide to Reading Interests in Biography, and he has posted many times before about various topics in biography. I love his attention to the detail and nuances of biographical writing; this is the sort of in-depth studies librarians should be doing of all types of nonfiction, although I know that no one has the time anymore for that sort of thing. (And if you work in a library, you're mainly just too busy trying to keep the printers unjammed, unsavory characters from following children into bathrooms, and explaining to patrons why you are not, in fact, really qualified to do their taxes for them for free.)

Have a good weekend, all, and happy spring.

*I was further charmed this morning when I visited his site and found a positive review for Nancy Pearl's and my new reference volume Now Read This III. Thanks, Rick!

Okay, well, not all that big or exciting. But I am excited! As of today, my new reader's guide, Now Read This III: A Guide to Mainstream Fiction (co-authored with Nancy Pearl), is finally available! It can be had through either Libraries Unlimited (the publisher), or Amazon. I fully realize it's a big chunk of change for any individual to spend, but I would be honored if you would suggest that your local library purchase a copy for their collection. It's been a long time in the making and I'm pretty proud of it, and I hope that it is useful to readers' advisors and readers.

Last week I got asked by some librarians with senses of humor* if I was going to have a big book release party, but the answer to that one is, I've already had it. It consisted of way too many milano cookies and a beer (a strange combination, but it worked for me) when I sent off the manuscript. We each celebrate in our own ways!

If you're wondering what the book looks like inside, I can give you a sampler. Pearl and I considered fiction titles (mainstream, or literary, ones; other guides take care of the genres) from the past 5-10 years and organized them according to what readers might find most appealing about them: their setting, their characters, their story, or the language and writing style of the author. Then we annotated each title and provided "related reads" for it. A sample entry looks like this:

Cleave, Chris.
Little Bee. Simon & Schuster, 2009. 271 pages. ISBN 9781416589631.
Although the jacket copy implores those who have read this novel not to tell their friends the story (because “the magic is in how the story unfolds”), what can be divulged is that it is the story of two women, from different parts of the globe, whose lives collide once, violently, on a beach in Africa, and then come together a second time as a result of that first meeting. The narrative follows the exploits of Little Bee, a young woman from Nigeria, who makes her way to Great Britain, and through no little amount of ingenuity, ends up on the doorstep of Sarah O’Rourke (and her family, although Sarah’s husband Andrew commits suicide—seemingly just days before Little Bee’s arrival).

Subjects: Africa; Book Groups; British Authors; Family Relationships; First Person; Great Britain; Immigrants and Immigration; Marriage; Men Writing as Women; Multicultural; Multiple Viewpoints; Parenting; Quick Reads
Now Try: Cleave has written another novel centering on current political events, Incendiary. Critics have compared this novel to Khaled Hosseini’s The Kite Runner (primarily for its moving characters and plot, which make it a solid book club choice); other novels about moral choices and unforeseeable events might also be offered to these readers, including William Styron’s classic Sophie’s Choice and Anne Tyler’s somewhat lighter but still thoughtful Saint Maybe. Abraham Verghese’s novel Cutting for Stone also follows a character from one continent to another; another formidable female character can be found in Monica Ali’s Brick Lane. Also of interest might be nonfiction titles from Africa, particularly Ishmael Beah’s memoir of his time as a child soldier, A Long Way Gone, or Helene Cooper’s The House at Sugar Beach: In Search of a Lost African Childhood, about her youth in Liberia and how she had to flee the country during its civil war (leaving behind an adopted sister).

The book will also be available for your inspection at the Libraries Unlimited/ABC-CLIO boothat the upcoming Public Library Association conference, held at the end of March, in Portland, Oregon (and I think they usually offer purchase deals there too). Last but not least, Nancy Pearl will be doing a book signing for the book on Thursday, March 25, from 2:30 to 3:30 p.m.!

*My very favorite kind of librarians.

This spring I'll be helping host a baby shower for a family member. This is hilarious, because I don't attend baby showers*, so I am uniquely unprepared to know what goes on at them, and what needs to be planned.

So, as per usual, I checked out some books from the library. I requested what seemed like a nice, basic title: Baby Showers: Ideas and Recipes for the Perfect Party, by Gia Russo and Michele Adams. This book has been a total hoot. Consider:

"A theme gives immediate direction to your celebration and helps to determine the guest list, the decor, the palette, the menu, the favors, and the gifts." (p. 12.)

It then goes on to list four themes: Daisy Brunch, Luncheon for Mom, Decorating the Nursery, and Heirlooms and Memories. For the "Decorating the Nursery" theme, the book suggests making hand-made invitations out of paint sample strips ("using the X-acto knife, carefully cut paint chips from paint cards. Design a pattern with the paint chips on a note card..."); the recipes included here are for such things as Smoked Salmon Bites, Blanched Asparagus with Lemon-dill Dipping Sauce, and Chilled Avocado Soup.

Tee hee. I'm thinking my theme will be "Midwestern Focus on Food Over Themes," featuring pre-printed invitations, ham buns, and some pans of bars. If anyone has any ideas for less-painful-than-usual shower games, please do let me know in the comments, would you? I don't know that I have the strength to check out any more books on the subject.

*I believe that every time a bridal or baby shower is held, women's rights take a big step backward.

I couldn't really find my reading groove this weekend.

First I looked at a book called How Patients Should Think: 10 Questions to Ask Your Doctor about Drugs, Tests, and Treatment, by Ray Moynihan and Melissa Sweet (as I firmly believe that where the medical establishment is concerned, your best defense is a good offense). It had some good information, and I liked their philosophy that "asking questions needs to be seen as an essential and valid part of seeking health care," but I just cannot read any more health or medical books right now. I will have to check it out some other time.

I also started Greg Grandin's Fordlandia: The Rise and Fall of Henry Ford's Forgotten Jungle City, but was completely bored. I don't think it's a bad book, just a very detailed history, and something for which I wasn't in the right mood.

I also started Alison Weir's The Lady in the Tower, about the fall of Anne Boleyn, which is okay, but didn't quite hold my attention the way I wanted.

So, all in all, a meh reading weekend, and I hope yours was much better. I did start a new book last night that I'm excited about (always at the end of the weekend, I find them). Further bulletins as events warrant.

Just when I've pretty much decided that London is the city for me, along comes a book like New York Skyscrapers (by Dirk Stichweh)and makes me realize that I've been a fickle lover. Oh, New York, you're still my only one--will you still have me?

I really loved this book. For one thing, it's oversized, and I love oversized books (now that I no longer work in a library, and I don't have to bitch and swear about shelving them). Any book of photography about New York City really needs to be an oversized book; it's particularly necessary when you're trying to do credit to its skyscrapers.* In this collection are photographs, histories, and facts about seventy-nine of the city's best known high-rise buildings, including the years when they were completed, their architects, and their height. The photographs, done by Jorg Machirus and Scott Murphy, are universally beautiful, and I'm getting just old enough to appreciate that even the text in this book is slightly larger than typical. And, in addition to the rather straightforward historical and arhictectural information, you get very readable tidbits like this:

"The unusual ground plan of the [Flatiron] building makes for a lack of standardized office spaces, but at the same time almost every office unit admits daylight." (p. 67.)

I was impressed by that, because who doesn't like to work where there's some daylight? Kudos to Daniel Burnham, the designer of the Flatiron Building, on that one. So if you need some New York eye candy, after checking out Stacy Horn's blog for her near daily New York pictures, you should definitely pick up this book.

*The cover of this book, featuring a rather standard shot of the Empire State Building and the Chrysler building, doesn't really reflect the many aerial and atypical (but beautiful) angles used for the photography of the seventy-nine buildings profiled.

I recently got my copy of Jessica Zellers's new nonfiction reading guide, titled Women's Nonfiction: A Guide to Reading Interests, and it's spectacular.

Now, you should know, I am the new series editor of the Libraries Unlimited Real Stories series, of which this book is a part (although Robert Burgin edited this volume, and did a fantastic job of it to boot--thanks ever so, Robert, for leaving such big shoes for me to fill), and I LOVE nonfiction reading guides, so I am probably not ever going to give one of these books a bad review. But I think my appreciation for this volume (and Rick Roche's guide to biographies, Real Lives Revealed) goes beyond mere interest as the series editor. Even if they sometimes have small problems in execution (and all of these types of books do, mine included) I simply love that they are available. They not only make it possible to find great books to read, but I think they make it clear that knowing something about books and authors is a valuable and hard-earned skill. In a world that is increasingly fragmented and which moves too fast and in which people speak endlessly of boring things called "apps," I think it's refreshing to find, gathered in one handy collection, lists of books that are similar in both subject and style.

But I digress. Perhaps the most valuable thing Zellers does is explain what Women's Nonfiction is: "a reading interest comprising titles that speak to women's experiences." Her chapters, therefore, include titles that speak to women's experiences in several genres and formats: Biographies and Memoirs (Life Stories); Personal Growth titles; Health, Wellness, and Beauty; Women's History; Adventure and Travel; Feminism and Activism; Women at Work; and Women and Society. Looking for a book similar to Sue Monk Kidd's The Dance of the Dissident Daughter?* Zellers suggests titles like Judith Duerk's Circle of Stones: Woman's Journey to Herself; and also suggests other memoirs like Deborah Kanafani's Unveiled: A Woman's Journey through Politics, Love, and Obedience.

What I particularly love about this volume is Zellers's writing style; she's witty.** Consider this, from the introduction:

"I dimly recall from my tenth-grade English class that Hercules had to perform twelve impossible labors. If memory serves, one of those twelve labors was to cull through all of the titles that are, or might be, Women's Nonfiction."

Her book annotations are all like that too; of Eve Ensler's The Vagina Monologues, her description opens with "It began simply enough, with Eve Ensler chatting with her friends about sex."

What we have here, then, is that rarest of things: a reference book that's fun to read. I highly recommend it--and this, coming from someone who has never met a "goddess narrative" she enjoyed (or would read all the way through, for that matter), should be taken as the highest praise indeed.

*I won't be, as Kidd is not for me, but there's plenty of other books suggested here that I might try.

**I am trying to be the bigger person here and not admit how jealous I am of her ability to turn a phrase.

Sorry for the late post today, but I got all caught up in reading the comments from yesterday. Thanks to everyone for what I thought was the best comment thread ever--it was like the best spontaneous book conversation ever, with everyone suggesting titles and bookstores and talking about true crime and, most importantly, largely agreeing that Richard Dawkins needs to be served a large cup of shut the fuck up.* So thank you to everyone for that.

In other news, today I thought I'd announce why I've been reading fiction pretty hardcore for the last couple of years. It's because I've been working on a new book with Nancy Pearl called Now Read This 3: A Guide to Mainstream Fiction. Pearl, also known as the Librarian Action Figure and frequent book commentator on NPR, is the author of the first two volumes in the series, Now Read This (along with assistance from Martha Knappe and Chris Higashi) and Now Read This 2. They're the books (along with the Genreflecting series) on which I modeled The Real Story and The Inside Scoop: we list mainstream fiction titles, provide a summary or annotation for them, and then suggest similar books that readers might also enjoy. It's not quite done yet, and I notice in Amazon that the pub date's been pushed back a little farther than I thought it would be, but we're getting very close to finishing it and I couldn't be happier. How often does one get to work with not only an unparalleled reader (which Nancy Pearl most certainly is) but also a librarian icon? Not very often, and it's been so, so great.

I didn't completely ignore nonfiction along the way--I could never do that--the new Now Read This is going to include lists of nonfiction books that might particularly appeal to fiction readers, and we tried to make both fiction and nonfiction suggestions for most of the novels.

And with this announcement, I hereby end this week of somewhat garish self-promotion. Sadly, I have to finish the week out with some bad news: author Dominick Dunne, himself a true crime writer and brother of author John Gregory Dunne, has died at the age of 83.

*Sorry, Robert, I had to steal your line, it was too good not to use.

When I worked in a used bookstore we had a tiny little bookshelf by the front door that held dictionaries, some reference books, and a shelf that was labeled "Books on Books." That was one of my favorite shelves in the whole store. When the store closed (the owners moved; my lack of sales skills didn't do them in, although sales have never been my strong suit) the owners were going to get rid of that little bookcase, but I asked if I could take it. It's still in my house, still bearing its shelf label "Books on Books," and that shelf actually holds some books on books.

No point to that anecdote really, except that, like a lot of readers, I am drawn to books that are written about books. A case in point is Jack Murngihan's Beowulf on the Beach: What to Love and What to Skip in Literature's 50 Greatest Hits. I've been reading a few chapters here and there and really enjoying this one. For one thing, if you haven't read a lot of "literature's greatest hits"--and I'm guilty of that, as I've never been able to handle the idea of actually reading Herman Melville, William Faulkner, Henry James, James Joyce, and a ton of others--it gives you a great idea of what these authors' classics are all about. I also like this guy because he pulls no punches. Take his advice about Vladimir Nabokov's Lolita:

"Lolita, Nabokov's ultrascandalous tale of a twelve-yearold nymphet and her degenerate adult admirer, needs next to no introduction. It's rightfully famous and beloved and has one of the greatest first thirds of any novel in any language, so the fact that the second two-thirds are repetitive and lackluster shouldn't bother us all that much, right? Though I fear the gods of literature might be training lightning bolts on my mortal skull as I type this, I can't not say it: I think Nabokov is overrated, and I think people forget how much Lolita falls off after the breathtaking beginning." (p. 327.)

Now that's a literature review! In addition to his brief summaries of the works, Murnaghan includes information about a book's "buzz," what readers don't know about the books in question, the best line, what's sexy about the book (his previous work of nonfiction, after all, was called The Naughty Bits), quirky facts, and what to skip. It's an informative little title,* and about a million times more fun than Pierre Bayard's "buzz" book from a few years back, How To Talk about Books You Haven't Read.

*And funny; I laughed out loud when I read this in the Jane Austen chapter: "If you are a woman, you're probably only reading this chapter to find out how it is that I like Jane Austen...," which is exactly what I was doing.