Let's Get Literary

It's the month of Thanksigving, and one thing I'm thankful for is that I learned to read. And that I had parents, teachers, and friends and family who encouraged me to follow my dreams to be a writer and reader. It's something I love to talk about and share with other people, too.

One of my simple pleasures is the smell of books—old, new, whatever. Mmmmm.

I don't detail all my reads like my friend A. does on her blog, Bookish Bent, but I do try to read a book a week (or so). It's hard, but I know it's one of those things that if you don't carve out the time to do it, it's easy to push it onto the back burner. And I believe books and words are important and I'll support the industry until the day I die. (And, hopefully, one day, contribute to it.) Reading simultaneously fuels my passion for writing and reading, and soothes me. I usually read right before bed.

The last book I read was The Forever War, by Dexter Filkins. It's reportage from an embedded reporter (he works for the New York Times and has won a Pulitzer Prize). It's about the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, and it rips your heart out and stomps all over it. The man has balls of steel, I will say that. He narrowly escapes death a few times; some of his compatriots don't. Tears came to eyes a few times, but more than a crying-sadness, it's the hollowed-out kind of sadness, a depressed, how-can-this-ever-be-fixed sadness. The book is a series of essays of experiences there, not unlike Michael Herr's groundbreaking Dispatches, or Tim O'Brien's incredible fictional account, The Things They Carried. (Many feel that this book was based on his own experiences, and from what I understand, many feel it's accurate about war, even if the accounts themselves did not happen.) Highly recommended for insight into the war on terror, the psyche of some cultures, and what is really happening behind the headlines.

Tonight I'm moving onto something a little lighter. I had the realization recently that I tend to read dark, depressing books, most of them nonfiction. I think I need something a little on the lighter side, but without being stupid or vapid. Tonight, I'm going to start reading The Know It All, by A.J. Jacobs, kindly loaned to me from A.

I'm also on Goodreads. Are you? Are we friends? Want to be?

Choosing my favorite books or authors is a nearly impossible task, but I have a few that stand out. And um, no links here, but let me know if you need more information.

I love Susan Orlean, Joan Didion, Margaret Atwood, Random Family by Adrienne Nicole LeBlanc (in my mind, one of the most important books about race and class ever written), The Translator, Push, The Color Purple, Crime and Punishment, Stolen Lives, Mountains Beyond Mountains (Tracy Kidder), All the President's Men (sigh, the first amendment), The Orchid Thief, We Wish To Inform You That Tomorrow We Will Be Killed With Our Families, China Wakes, The Perks of Being a Wallflower, Where the Red Fern Grows, Island of the Blue Dolphins, Under the Banner of Heaven, Cash by Johnny Cash, What is the What... I could go on and on and on and on.....

What are your favorite books/authors? Why? I'd love some recommendations and book talk around here.

Weekend Update

Despite my feeling very crappy for the last, oh, seven or so days, I did have a few highs this weekend.

Friday night: eating spectacular tom yum soup from our favorite Thai place and not getting sick. Watching movies—yes, you can rent them for $1 a night at McDonald's and some grocery stores, for those of you who asked the last time—with my honey, on the couch. (Saw: Sex and the City, Leatherheads, Forgetting Sarah Marshall).

Saturday: learning the art of bellydancing for an hour and a half with my sister. It's hard! We giggle a lot. Still, I feel I get a good workout, hear fun middle eastern club music, and I think I do feel better afterward. Hips are so sore.

A beautiful wedding of some friends. So sophisticated with champagne and cream colors everywhere. A fun couple with great taste. Outside on the Mississippi just a few blocks from our home. I was so happy for them. And it was a little reminder of where I was four months ago.

Then, a be-still-my-heart moment: A night with Liz Phair...where she performed the entirety of Exile in Guyville in order, plus an encore of a new song, Chopsticks, May Queen, Polyester Bride. I know I've written about how I've met Liz before, and how much I love her, but this was like the concert of my life. Exile in Guyville is my favorite album of all time. I can listen to it in any mood. It understands me. When I'm feeling lonely, sad, happy, frustrated, elated, angry, moody, thoughtful, or content, it speaks to me. Fatty and I had great sightlines, very close. It makes my heart so big that she decided to do this tour, 15 years after the album was being released. I'm still having trouble putting it into words. I had a big dumb smile on my face all night, I rocked out. After a long, shitty week, it was a welcome, needed, and loved couple of hours.

Today: running errands with a friend, having a gift card to the bookstore (bought: The Wind Up Bird Chronicle by Haruki Murakami, Helter Skelter by Vincent Bugliosi, The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao by Junot Diaz), Simply Orange and waffles with my honey, making a "real" dinner, as William called it: meatloaf, roasted potatoes, and squash. And it tasted like the best thing ever. And it agreed with me.

Bonus: fall clothes, getting rolled out! I was hoping that there would be some things packed away I'd forgotten about, but was a little bummed to find that's not the case. Sad day! But hooray for scarves and skinny jeans with tall boots.