I can’t decide who my favorite author is. I was setting myself up for failure when I thought I could have one single talent crush during a week dedicated to reading. Should I admit failure and just make a list of all my favorite authors with links to each author’s page or wikipedia entry?
That might work. What about a list of my favorite books? I could link to Amazon as well as the author’s page or wikipedia entry.
This seems like cheating. Aren’t I supposed to pick just one? Why is there only one ‘s’ there near the end of supposed? I always think there are two.
There are books and authors I love that I am too embarrassed to admit to. I know, I easily talk about my boobs but won’t admit to certain books I’ve read and loved. What a complex and fascinating character I am.
Okay. Focus. There are 3 books I have sitting sort of off by themselves on my bookshelf. Maybe I can talk about those three.
Sheesh. This might be embarrassing. (Why are there two r’s in embarrassing?!) Let me go get them.
I’m back. I have two books here and then like 30 books (don’t worry, I’ll talk about them as a group) that reside on my kindle.
First book is A Room with a View by E.M. Forster. DON’T FORGET TO INCLUDE LINKS, PLEASE. I’m going to leave that in so you can see that even as I am yelling at myself, I am saying please. Self-care, ladies. Self-care.
Third book is a category, historical romance novels. No one but snobs and probably Donald Trump still call them bodice rippers so stop it.
I first read E.M. Forster’s A Room with a View in the 1980’s when the movie by the same name hit theatres and became a nationwide sensation. If you haven’t seen the movie, you could watch it tonight! It’s beautiful. All the young people in it are stunningly attractive (Daniel Day Lewis is in it and my God, that man…he’s such a good actor one can easily forget how physically beautiful he is).
I have read A Room with a View many, many times. To me, to my individual taste, it is a perfect little gem of a novel. There isn’t a wasted word or phrase or character. I never insist that my friends or family read it anymore because I now know that my demanding they read something I love is like assigning people homework. Thank you to Judge John Hodgman for pointing this out and helping me be less annoying to my loved ones. They appreciate it.
Anyway, I read this book whenever I travel because I am an anxious traveler and the familiar and (to me) near perfect prose calms me. I literally open the book to a random page and begin reading. This has bee going on for over 20 years. A few years ago I had to buy a new copy because my old one was falling apart. I have kept the old copy because, in my mind, it holds some of the love I feel for the novel. That is a silly idea and I don’t usually imbue objects with emotions but this book is one of the few things I have owned since my teens.
I opened the book to a random page and found this. “We have tried to buy what cannot be bought with money. He has bargained to drive us, and he is doing it. We have no rights over his soul.”
This has gotten overly long so I will cover the other book and category next week. Don’t worry, I won’t forget. This is to do with reading, not cooking.