Beans: Month of Gratitude, Day 18: Books, Authors, Libraries

I am grateful for books. For authors who write them. For libraries that share them.

When author Roddy Doyle was asked what he looks for when reading a novel, he replied, "Surprise and reassurance." Isn't that the truth? Isn't that what we love about diving into a book . . . being entertained, and also being held safe? Isn't that one of the best ways to spend moments in one's day?

That is what good books provide: the guarantee of getting to experience both of those two things, in a world where the actual humans with whom you interact on a daily basis are guaranteed NOT to provide those two things on any regular basis. Let's get right to the point: we humans are entirely, fundamentally flawed. We will do the most disappointing things to ourselves and to each other regularly. Yes, we do wonderful things . . . like write good books . . . but to expect such excellence from any one of us on an ongoing basis is just not realistic.

So, books.

Where, through inspiration and the hard work of rewriting until something shines like a bright new penny, the best of humanity is distilled. Into a wonderful little packet that you can hold in your hand, open up, and be surprised and reassured by.

Here's my first favorite book -- the Scholastic Books edition of Harold and the Purple Crayon:

(Photo courtesy of Crockett Johnson's homepage.)

Harold is simply the king of bean-up-the-nose behavior. The boy DRAWS HIS OWN ADVENTURES. He experiments. He creates. He sees what happens. He reacts. He draws his way out of trouble. Way to go, Harold! And thank you, Crockett Johnson, for creating his amazing self and world.

Through the years since reading this 1966 Scholastic edition of Harold's, books and the characters in them have been some of my most favorite companions. The Tall Book of Make-Believe. Charlotte's Web. James and the Giant Peach. Ann Petry's biography of Harriet Tubman.

In college, I majored in English -- because I loved to read. I read and loved the works of all sorts of dead people. Anything by Mark Twain. The Awakening, by Kate Chopin, and all of her short stories. All of Flannery O'Connor's short stories. F. Scott Fitzgerald. Virginia Wolff. Older . . . Flaubert and his Madame Bovary.

Out of college, getting to read more contemporary work. Falling in love with The World According to Garp and devouring everything by John Irving. Falling in love with Beloved and devouring everything by Toni Morrison. Falling in love with Love in the Time of Cholera, and then falling in love with The Mambo Kings Play Songs of Love:

(Photo courtesy Amazon.com.)

In recent years, I have loved everything written by Alain de Botton. (Who writes back.)

(Photo courtesy of author's website.)

And anything by George Pelecanos. (Who also writes back.) And by Walter Mosley, Ian McEwan, and Nick Hornsby. Also, The Hours by Michael Cunningham. The Glass Castle by Jeannette Walls. And The Autobiography of Malcom X.

There is not enough space or time here to include every book I've loved, nor author whose work has inspired me, cajoled me, held me, surprised and reassured me. I am profoundly grateful for all of your very, very, very hard work. THANK YOU.

And thank you to the civic-minded spirit and folk who create and maintain libraries . . . the repositories of books, audio books, magazines, newspapers -- all things we read. (And lots of electronically-watchable and -listenable stuff, too.)

Libraries rock. And here is one of my very favorites . . . which happens to be across the street from where I stay on Whidbey. (How lucky is THAT?!?!?) And which just underwent a complete (like, down to the foundation) renovation last year. In this economy. In these times. What kind of bean-up-the-nose spirit!!!