Book Love

I've been toying with a way to write about some of my favorite books without boring the jiminy cricket out of you. You'll be pleased to know I haven't figured it out, but I'm going to press ahead anyway. You see, someday, years from now, when Madeline and Connor are in their 20s or 30s, they'll have an overwhelming desire to read some of my favorite books. (Shut up. Yes, they will.) Fortunately, all they'll have to do is flip to page 31 (that would be this post) of the leather-bound collection of my writings available at any good bookstore.

I loves me some books. I can remember being in elementary school and reading "Bedknobs and Broomsticks" because I discovered it was listed at a higher reading level than I "should" have been at. Didn't actually like the book that much -- I can still picture the "Murder She Wrote" gal on the cover -- but it got me into the habit of seeking out books that would force me to think a bit. (No disrespect intended toward "Sweet Valley High," Erin.)

It was also about that time I realized the daily ever-lovin' eternity I spent on Bus 13 passed quickly if I had a book to read. So on that bumpy yellow dog I fostered a reputation as a stuck-up smartypants by burying my nose in books like "Let the Circle Be Unbroken" and "The Red Badge of Courage." "Circle" was my gentle introduction -- through the eyes of four precocious black children in a loving family -- to segregation and racism. "Red Badge" was the first time I'd seen fighting and war portrayed in a way that was neither glamorous nor heroic.

In about seventh grade, there was a miniseries on TV called "North and South." Some of you might remember it for having kick started Patrick Swayze's career. (And aren't we all eternally grateful for "Roadhouse"?)

Well, we just had one TV at home, and Dad was not the type to commit to a miniseries (particularly since he avoids stories about "dogs, Indians and the Civil War"). So every morning during gym, I'd listen to my friends gush about Orry and Madeline and how wonderfabulous it all was. So I went to the library and checked out the book (the first in a trilogy by John Jakes). It was like entering another world. Anytime I could be reading it, I was. Same for the concluding books in the series. When one of the main characters was killed, I cried like a pregnant woman reading Nicholas Sparks and moped for two days. (No, I don't know why Madeline cried when the visiting team scored a touchdown last week. Her dramatic flair is a complete mystery to me.)

In high school, I read a bunch of Dean Koontz books, which introduced me to the idea of magical realism -- something I would come to appreciate even more in college with books by the awesomely original Alice Hoffman ("Practical Magic"), Isabel Allende ("The House of the Spirits") and Gabriel Garcia Marquez ("One Hundred Years of Solitude.") Long before Oprah gave "Solitude" her gold-minting seal of approval, my Latin teacher, Mrs. Lemmon, passed copies out to her graduating seniors with the charge: "Read it." We did.

Books have almost always been a way to escape for me. And I'm certainly not living a life of silent desperation; I just LOVE being transported into other people's stories. For that reason, I stick mostly with fiction. I couldn't possibly list all my favorites, because I'd leave too many off. So I've walked around my house collecting books off the shelves. I'll try to organize them into some semblance of categories. Pay attention now, because when I'm done, I hope you'll reciprocate.

Classics (modern and old):

"A Tale of Two Cities" by Charles Dickens.
In junior high, our honors English teacher got it in her crazy head that we were plenty old enough to do a research paper. (God bless her.) For whatever reason, I chose Charles Dickens and read "A Tale." We're all familiar with the first few lines: "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness ..." Besides being an epic run-on sentence (You know I'm a stickler for complete sentences. She said. Sarcastically.), it's not a half-bad opening line. Better even than, "It was a dark and stormy night." The rest of the chapter was pretty much a bore, however, as it just sets up The Times for us. But the story kicks off in Chapter 2, and from that moment on, I was hooked. Up until then, I was pretty much clueless about the French Revolution. This book made me care.

"All The King's Men" by Robert Penn Warren.
I would never have read this book had it not been forced on me by my Southern Lit prof at A&M (along with "The Bear" by Faulkner). Ostensibly, it's a fictionalized telling of the life of Louisiana's most infamous politician, Gov. Huey Long. What it ends up being more about (for me) is how his right-hand man refuses, ultimately, to shed his idealism. It's got everything -- including a Pulitzer Prize.

"Beloved" by Toni Morrison.
Another Pulitzer winner. This book is dadgum fabulous. It blows my mind. Set several years after the Civil War, it involves the loss of a child, a runaway slave, a terrible secret, desire, hope, a haunting. Amazing read.

"Franny and Zooey" by J.D. Salinger.
This was originally published in two parts in "The New Yorker." J.D. Salinger is an incredible talent, who frustrates the tar out of me by being such a whack job he won't publish any more of his stuff. You just KNOW his house is full of manuscripts collecting dust bunnies. "Franny and Zooey" is the story of two remarkable siblings who are part of an equally remarkable family. It's just a sweet, melancholy telling of Franny's spiritual struggle and her brother's response. When I read this, it made me want to be smarter.

"All the Pretty Horses" by Cormac McCarthy.
OK. If I HAD to pick a favorite book of all time. This would be it. (I've never seen the movie.) I picked this one up from a display table at a bookstore when Roy and I were living in Dublin in '94. We had just finished college and were doing the expatriate thing, living hand-to-mouth and trying to make friends. It rained all the time. It was beautiful. It was lonely. So when I saw this was a coming-of-age story about a 16-year-old Texan, who travels to Mexico, it struck a chord in me. I wasn't 16 and I sure wasn't in Mexico, but I felt a kinship in the adventure of leaving what you know for what you don't without much more than what's in your pockets.

Y'all. It's just about the most beautiful thing I've ever read. And I don't mean beautiful pretty. I mean lyrical, transcendental, haunting.

"Gift From the Sea" by Anne Morrow Lindbergh.
This book was a wonderful gift from a wonderful woman who, for a very short period, took me under her wing. Lindbergh (yes, that Lindbergh -- who's husband was a wealthy aviator and whose baby was tragically kidnapped) was in her own right a very gifted author. "Gift From the Sea" is a collection of beautiful meditations -- using the ocean and its shells as her muse -- about what it means to be a woman at different stages in life.



After I read this and marked it up a bit, I gave it to my mother who made notations of her own and then returned it. What a treasure.

Just plain good stories:
I could go on forevuh here, so I'll just list three.

"Cold Mountain" by Charles Frazier.
This is one of the best books I've read in the past six years. (Yes, I saw the movie and liked it too.) What I love most about it is how the main female character, Ada, makes the journey from a smart, pretty, genteel, useless woman who can't even stand up to the yard rooster to a person of internal fortitude and strength. At the same time, the hero's journey homeward is very "Odyssey" like. It's some of the best prose writing you'll ever come across and just a beautiful story.

"Outlander" by Diana Gabaldon.
It's hard to categorize this book (the first in a series, but it can be read alone). It's got all the elements that make my reading heart happy: a smart, wisecracking heroine; a strong, good-hearted hero, an epic setting, terrific, realistic writing, a gripping storyline, adventure, romance (though it's not A Romance), tragedy, triumph. Gooood stuff.

"Redeeming Love" by Francine Rivers.
You get a group of women together, mention this book and STAND BACK. There will be exclamations and exhortations. And if someone in the group hasn't read it yet, well, buckle up. I'm sure not everyone who reads it loves it, but I'd bet at least 90 percent do. Now, it is "Christian fiction," and I'm not a big fan of the genre. (Don't hurt me.) But this book stands on it own as a work of literature. It will also make you say, "Man. God loves me that much? Really?" One warning: The prologue, in which we learn exactly why the main character is so screwed up, is a downer. It's a necessary setup however, and the book takes off with chapter one. I read until 5 in the morning. It's that good.

Christian literature that has recently rocked my world:

"Velvet Elvis" by Rob Bell.
Weird title. Fabulous discussion on what this Walk With Jesus thing is and what it should be or could be. It stretched me. It made my faith bigger. I wish all my non-Christian friends would read this and "Blue Like Jazz" so that, at the very least, they could better get what this faith thing is all about for me -- and a lot of other Christians who don't fit the Pat Buchanan mold.

"Blue Like Jazz" by Donald Miller.
This is a quirky memoir of one man's growth as a person of faith. One of the many things I love is that it gives "permission," if you will, to love Jesus and still -- gasp -- have a beer and be a Democrat. (I prefer wine and I'm not a fan of either party these days, but that's not the point.)

"Always Enough" by Roland and Heidi Baker.
Here's the story of two missionaries who took that Great Commission thing very seriously. They went out to the poorest of the poor to bring them help and hope. The amazing story they have to tell (and are still telling) took my breath away.

And one more:
"Sheet Music" by Kevin Leman
Leman is a Christian author and psychologist who has mostly written about child-raising issues. But this book is all about sexual intimacy in marriage. I hesitate to list it because 1) I don't want people thinking, "Oh, she and her husband needed help." Or, "Oh, she's a pervert." Neither is true (I hope). I give "Sheet Music" to engaged couples about a week before the wedding, and at least one new bride has made a point of pulling me aside to say, "Thank you." Now, this isn't your typical Christian-author sex book (though I've only read one other and that was right before my own wedding). It's very frank. There are no euphemisms. He's no-nonsense about saying: Generally speaking, here are a woman's sexual needs and here are a man's and here's what makes a sexually happy couple. I think in the church and even amongst ourselves, we're too shy about this subject and a lot of couples suffer. That's my two cents.

Assuming anyone is still with me at this point, I'd love to read your comments about what your favorite books are and why. And if you think I'm way off base with one of my picks, tell me. After all, I don't mind telling Sarah she's nuts to like "Silas Marner." ;-)

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