Have you read the one about .....

I just finished reading a great book. It was filled with humour and history and I thought that a friend of mine would enjoy it as well.

I often hesitate to recommend books to this person; I remember once suggesting that A Fine Balance by Rohinton Mistry was an incredible book. They got it, took it with them on vacation and blamed me later for recommending such a "depressingly god-awful book". I loved that book. And so, as you can imagine, I've been cautious about my suggestions. But this newest one just seemed to fit. The topic was in their particular area of interest, it wasn't fiction and it was well written. So I took the book - my copy with my notes because I often write in margins - and said "I thought you might find this really interesting."

The reply? After perusing the inside jacket for about 5 seconds the disdainful response was, "You want me to read a book by an author who's previous subject matter included a book about Moosejaw???"

It's quite funny you know. Those of you love to read as much as I do may understand what I mean when I say that the recommendation of a book is quite personal. The books that you really love say something about you. For me, the out of hand dismissal of a recommended book is akin to dismissing the person who recommended it. Then again, maybe I'm the only one who feels that way. Wouldn't be the first time that's happened for sure.

One thing though to be sure, I'll never recommend another book to that 'friend'.

Books .... books and more books ....

I was thinking about books the other day when I was in a Chapter's store looking to buy a copy of 'The Borrower's' that I can read to my grandchildren. As it turns out I had to order it online because it's too old to be kept in the stores. Anyway, as I was looking around at other books - because you can't possibly go to a book store without buying a book, at least I can't - I found myself wondering what it is about books that so captivates me. I've always been a reader. I remember as a child taking my book and lamp and blanket and pillow into my bedroom closet, shutting the door and reading for hours. My family must have thought I was nuts but they didn't stop me. My parents, particularly my dad, was a voracious reader right up until he died. In fact, it was one thing we had in common and could discuss the various books we'd read and debate the character's and the endings.

The week before he went into the hospital last summer I was visiting him with other family members when he turned to me and said. "I've got a bone to pick with you." As it turned out what he wanted to chastise me about was the ending to a recent book I'd given him. Laughing I said, "I didn't WRITE the book, Dad, I just gave it to you." But he was so annoyed about how the author had elected to end a book with familiar characters that he made me read him the final few pages and then give him MY interpretation of the events. I honestly don't think he accepted my view - which was markedly different than his - because he just kept saying, "you think?". I remember telling him that when her next book was published I was going to ensure that she didn't take the characters where he thought she was heading and if so I wasn't going to let him read it! He died shortly afterwards but I'm sure going to laugh if his interpretation turns out to be correct.

But as for my passion for books - I really don't quite 'get it'. My parents never read to me when I was a child and we only owned a few books. The library was our 'book store'. My house today is filled with hundreds of books (not only do I love to read, I love to own) and I get great joy just looking at them, remembering the characters and stories in the fiction; the lessons learned and people 'met' in the non-fiction. I also write in my books highlighting phrases, sentences, paragraphs that 'speak' to me, and use sticky notes to make it easier to go back to them - which I do .... often. I remember the first time when, as a VERY mature student, I got my student card from U of T and was able to access the stacks at the Robarts Library. I can still remember how I felt to walk down rows and rows of books ... the smell, the touch....the honour and privilege I felt. I'm not embarrassed to say that I wept.

This is partly why I support The Children's Book Bank in downtown Toronto. The Children's Book Bank is a non-profit organization that collects new or gently used books and gives them to children. Not lends them as the library does, but GIVES them a book. One of the stories told is that a young boy came to the Book Bank and after he had selected his book he asked when he needed to bring it back. Upon being told that he didn't ever have to return it because it was now his to own he clasped his hands together, looked up and thanked God. Check out their website or drop into the centre... it's an amazing place.

Books, books and more books

I was adding to my book list on http://www.goodreads.com/ and realized two things. One, I have WAY too many books on my shelves that I haven't read yet and secondly that books have a powerful hold on me. I suppose I've always known both those things but going through my library reinforced it.

To me books are like friends - good close friends who sometimes make you laugh (anything by David Sedaris), sometimes make you cry ('What they Wanted' by Donna Morrisey...warning, you'll need plenty of tissues when reading this one), sometimes really piss you off (I was so annoyed at the ending for 'My Sister's Keeper' and as I kid couldn't finish a book if someone was being 'double-crossed'. Speaking of sister's, my own was so annoyed at the circumstances in 'Careless in Red' by Elizabeth George that she put the book down and refused to finish it or even talk about it).

Books are powerful things. The ability to write a phrase that stays with you long after reading it, the ability to create characters that come alive in the reading and stay alive when you've finished is a rare art form. I often go back to Rohinton Mistry's 'Family Matters' for the quote ... "A letter is like perfume. You don't apply a whole bottle. Just one dab will fill your senses. Words are the same - a few are sufficient."

As I added to the list on Goodreads I remembered some of my other favorites as well. 'Can you Hear the Nightbird Call' by Anita Rau Badami. 'Bishop's Road' by Catherine Safer. 'Walking after Midnight' by Kay Hutchison. And many more.

I also remembered where I was - or at least what I was going through - when I read some of them. I read 'Beyond Crazy' and 'The Last Taboo', both by Scott Simmie and Julia Nunes, when I was going through a particularly bad patch. Any and all of my books on Celtic spirituality or the Orthodox church remind me of when I was mad for learning as much as possible about those two subjects - subjects which are still close to my heart.

I still have the very first book I ever owned as a child, my first 'grown-up' book anyway. It's called 'The Five Circles' by Barbara May and I can clearly recall how proud and thrilled I was to have a book to call my own. That's partly why I'm so partial to a charity called The Children's Book Bank (http://www.childrensbookbank.com/) located on Berkley Street in Toronto, Ontario. The Children's Book Bank collects books and GIVES them to children. It's a phenomenal idea and to anyone who loves reading and realizes the power of a book for a child visit this website and donate, donate, donate.

I also remember feeling so stupid the first time I opened 'The Art of the Icon: A Theology of Beauty' by Paul Evdokimov. It was in the very early days when I found myself enthralled with icons and iconography and wanted to learn as much as I could about them. And, instead of starting with something basic, like 'Sacred Doorways', I chose Evdokimov's book. It begins .... ' "Beauty is the splendor of truth." So said Plato in an affirmation that the genius of the Greek language completed by a coining a single term, kalokagathia." ' HUH????? Honestly, I don't think I've ever felt so stupid as when I started reading 'The Art of the Icon' (well, maybe with the exception of the first class I took at Trinity College as a VERY mature student but more on that another time) . But I got through it and think of it often and, remembering how stupid I felt then and realizing that I 'get it' now is a special feeling as well.

I've begun to give books as gifts as much as possible. A few years ago I gave 'I never saw another butterfly ...' to all my fellow acolytes at church. I gave both my sons 'Where the Sidewalk Ends' by Shel Silverstein this Christmas. When they were little boys the three of us used to read the poem's in that, and all of Silverstein's books, over and over. It turned out to be one of their favorite books. I gave 'Bel Canto' by Ann Patchett to two of my best friends for Christmas as well, one of whom loved it, the other - well, I've not heard what they thought of it yet so ... who knows. After all, just because I love a book doesn't mean that others will.

I remember recommending 'Family Matters' to my best friend ..... and hearing that they HATED it. They went to the trouble of taking it on a family vacation, sitting down on the beach to read this "great book" and HATING it! 'Too depressing' was the comment I got back. Honestly, the way they went on made me feel guilty for even suggesting it to them! Also made me a bit cautious to recommend books to anyone for a while but then I figured, even if they don't like them, reading pretty much anything is an experience worth having. And I still love it. It remains one of my all time favorites, along with 'Bel Canto'.

Now that I've realized how many books I have on my shelves that I haven't read I'm planning to take care of that. I'll keep you posted on any true gems I discover .... well, in my opinion anyway!

Someone will come for you, but first you must open your heart

Last summer a friend gave me a book to read. "I know you'll think this is crazy" she said 'but just read it". "Don't ask me why I'm giving it to you, don't think about what kind of book it is, just read it and then we'll talk."

Her sister had given it to her with the same instructions. She was, as was I, initially perplexed. Why would she have given me THIS book. But then she read it and understood. Luckily she shared it with all of her friends including me. I read her copy and then bought one of my own along with several copies for other friends. If I could, I'd insist that every person would be REQUIRED to read the book.

So why did my friend, and her sister before her, loan a book which they felt needed to come with a cautionary message?

Because it was a children's book. And I'm long past being a child ... at least chronologically.

When I say it's a children's book I suppose what I mean is that it was written as a children's book but the story, and the message, are ageless and timeless.

That book, The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane by Kate DiCamillo, with beautiful illustrations by Bagram Ibatoulline, won my heart.

For those of you without children - or whose children are long grown up like my own - you might recognize the name Kate DiCamillo as the author of the book on which a recent childrens' movie has been based, The Tale of Despereaux. People with young children will likely be familiar with DiCamillo's 'Mercy Watson' series of books as well as Because of Winn-Dixie.

There's lots of stuff in the entertainment news about Edward from The Twilight book series but it's a porcelain rabbit named Edward that won my heart.

Read it. No matter how old or young you are this is the book to read. "Once, in a house on Egypt Street, there lived a rabbit ...."

And while you're at it check out Edward's website (yes, the porcelain rabbit has his own website) edwardtulane.com and Kate's website katedicamillo.com . Kate's journal section on her website is more than worth the read.