You've Lost that Lovin' Feelin'

Although I’m still getting my “school legs" back under me, I am thrilled to say that this year I am actually managing to carve out some time to read non-teaching books in drips and drabs.

To wit: I finally finished reading The Poisonwood Bible last week and I must admit, I’m not falling all over myself and raving about the majesty of the text. Now don’t get me wrong; I adore Barbara Kingsolver (goes with the territory, really, since I teach two of her novels and frequently reference Animal, Vegetable, Miracle in class) but I think one of the problems is that I went into the second half of the book with far too high expectations (even the real Melville probably couldn’t meet them when I’m in that reading mode). Most of the time I find to read now is while I’m at the yoga studio and my fellow yogis (and their mothers, one of the rare times I can be literal with that phrase!) were crazy about this book, telling me that it would change my life, my perspective on Africa, and make me want to be a better human being.

Well, I’m still good ol’ crazy Melville in California. I haven’t bought a plane ticket to Africa. I haven’t denounced all material possessions, nor do I find myself trying to pick up another language because of the sheer beauty of the words on the page. But I don’t think the problem lies in the book. As they say in relationships – “it’s not you, it’s me.”

The Poisonwood Bible is a beautifully written text that thoughtfully grapples with those tough philosophical and spiritual questions that I love to analyze. The characters are pitch-perfect and their narration kept me gripped to the edge of my seat. I even, at one point, dreamt about the novel – a mamba snake with glistening green eyes was my new daemon (yes, I’ve read Philip Pullman too often).

So what is it then? Why am I not in the throes of a passionate love affair?

I think I’m just not loving enough right now. Or, put it another way, I’m far too analytical.

Unless the book is designed to grab a reader simply based on plot and take you along for the emotional roller coaster of your life, I find myself comparing all new literature to those that I already love. In a way, because I fiercely worship a very small list of books, it becomes increasingly difficult for other novels to work their way into my top shelf – the inner sanctum of my books. I may spend the entire time reading a new book and thinking about how that same idea, that same style, that same attempt to move me was done so much better by one of “my authors.”

Now, granted, I don’t have the world’s greatest taste in books. Despite my M.A. and voracious reading habits in the summer, I generally fall in love with a book because it finds me at the right time in my life – I am searching for whatever message it is ready to impart. In fact, my list can seem a little odd or even a little shabby if you look at it from a purely literary point of view. But, it is what it is, and I stand by it.

So, until I can bring one of these books down a notch, or I re-read The Poisonwood Bible again with fresh, loving eyes, my list shall remain untouched.

While I don’t have the time or energy tonight to reveal them all – I’ll give you an eclectic sneak peek at my all-time life list:

(in no particular order and not the full list)

-- Matilda by Roald Dahl
He made school seem magical and I wanted Matilda’s magical powers oh-so-badly. And who doesn’t want someone with Dahl’s wit to keep you entertained all day?

-- Ex Libris and At Large and At Small (both books of essays) by Anne Fadiman
I would give my left hand, heck, the entire left side of my body to write even half as well as Fadiman. If there is one regret in my life, it is that I missed meeting her when she visited my undergrad university.

-- The Eyre Affair by Jasper Fforde
I’ve met the man and I can’t figure out which is more charming – the man himself or his books. I’ve decided both are hilarious.

--Moby-Dick by Herman Melville
Everything and nothing at once. Pure Genius.

--The Emily of New Moon trilogy by L.M. Montgomery
I re-read them every summer for about five years because I felt that transcendental “flash” she described so well…

--Any poetry book ever by Mary Oliver
The woman speaks to my soul.

--Eva Luna and Stories of Eva Luna by Isabel Allende
Try to read the story “And of Clay We are Created” without being moved. I dare you.

And these are just a quick sampling. If I gave you the full list, I’d never get to re-read another of my favorites tonight (and the one I am teaching tomorrow) – Thoreau’s Walden.

But I’m not going to be too hard on myself. There’s always another book in the sea.

The next book I’m reading for fun is our next book club pick so stay tuned. I’m ready and raring to rave ….