Tag Archives: books

Winter Pages

Winter Reading

So excited – the rest of my winter reading arrived! Man, I love memoirs. And yeah, the ones I read tend toward the harrowing and tragic, but there is also resilience and hope. So there! :)

I read Lidia Yuknavitch’s amazing amazing amazing The Chronology of Water last week, but I read it on Dan’s Kindle. I needed to get my wrinkly hands on the real, tangible book so I can pore through the prose more easily and cozily. I have to say, even though I’m all for the convenience & immediacy e-book readers offer, I am a lover of art objects.

Nothing beats curling up on the couch with a book: leafing through its pages, the smell of the paper, the sound of the page curl, turning it over in your hands to study the cover and read about the author, the respite you reach with each new chapter – a white expanse with floating words – a moment to breathe, to contemplate the words you just read.

Maybe it’s akin to the difference between owning the print of a beautiful piece of artwork and owning the original. You can see the texture in a print, but you can’t feel it. You can’t smell the paint. You can’t see light react to it.

Sure, I’m never going to own a handwritten book by my favorite author. Or a typed version. Or an original manuscript file. But a book is an entity. A thing in the world. Pages of words you can hold in your hand. Pages you can flag with your thumb, pages with margins you can fill with your own handwritten notes. Pages you can flip to by memory, just by spending time with the weight of the book.

I’m romanticizing, I know… Anyways! Here’s my winter reading list:

no one belongs here more than you

sigh. i just finished reading Miranda July’s short story collection, No one belongs here more than you. (as modeled by Mr. Deuce). (i’ve been on tenterhooks since it was first published in ’07).

Miranda July loves her characters. She lets their minds wander – no abbreviation, just pure meandering rawness – she lets us listen to this unfiltered goodness and badness. After they snap awake from their inner dialogue comas, we hear them censor themselves – comparing, judging, accepting, rejecting, squeezing into; we hear human beings in fragment, and we hear her cobble them together. that gave me a warm, fuzzy feeling.

i ate up the words as quickly as possible because they tasted so damn good, but now i’m left with that sad, empty feeling that comes after you’ve finished unwrapping all your presents. the good thing is that words like hers make me want to write. i like when that happens.