Summer Lovin'

It happens every year.  I start out the summer with a grand list of books that I meant to read all year when I was too busy but still motivated enough to copy down names of “good” book selections – the kind of books that end up on critic’s lists, that go on to be used in classrooms, that get alluded to by your writer-ish friends. 

Now, I read those kinds of books in June, so I feel productive.  It’s like I’ve fulfilled my basic quota of books that I can cross off the ol’ life list.  But then July comes around and the lull sets in.  I stop wearing a watch, I stay up late watching my DVD collection, I don't even bother to comb my hair every morning.  And…as I loll about, I reread. 

I know some people think rereading is pointless – why reread if there are still so many books out there to cross off your “good” list? – but I’ve always found pleasure in these revisits.  I’ve probably read The Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood at least five times (in my defense, my favorite elementary teacher of all time recommended it to me) and that book is never going to make any NYT critic’s list.  But when it’s hot and I’m curled up in a lounge chair by the pool sipping a Coke, I want something that I can sort of drift over, absorbing some of the page and filling in the skimmed words from hazy memory.  Nothing in the world is better than those lazy afternoons because I know that for the next few hours, I’ll be visiting an old, loved friend. 

Right now, I’m living in Civil War America, where the brutality is far away (but not forgotten) but the virtuous Bible is much closer.  It is a land in which skating parties, shy beaus, and sing-alongs are the norm for these Little Women.  I’m delightfully sailing through the chapters, caressed by their goodness and gentle humor – the perfect summer reread. 

And so, dear readers, I open the forum up to you. 

What is your perfect summer pleasure read (or reread, as the case may be)? 

Is it one of those flashy, gold-embossed covers filled with images of Fabio-wannabes from the Costco book tables whose title is interchangeable with all the other ones about forbidden love?

Or is it something more personal? 

Or, better still, is it Moby-Dick?  If so, I’m waiting for those royalty checks to come pouring in…

Happy skimming,
Melville