9.27.2024

she had never imagined that curiosity was one of the many masks of love

This is the next of several (six?) posts that springs from an article, essentially listing "the most [x] book I've read." Fair warning, I'm approaching it as Free Association, because analyzing everything I've ever read to find the absolute most... whatever... is going to spin me into indecision. 

The most seductive book I read
The Man Who Wrote the Book by Erik Tarloff (Crown Publishers, 2000)
    Not sure where I found this one. Prehaps the description caught me while selecting books for purchase at the library? In any case, it absolutely lived up to the description...
    "Ezra Gordon's life is falling apart. His job as an underpaid literature professor at a small Baptist college in California is in jeopardy because he can't get his act together to write any articles for academic journals, he has a ferocious case of writer's block and hasn't written a poem in years, and he is in a lukewarm relationship with the icily disapproving Carol, daughter of the fearsome college trustee, the Reverend Dimsdale. And his doctor has just told him that, physically, at the age of 35, it's all downhill from here.
    "To escape a dreary spring break on campus, Ezra heads to Los Angeles to visit Isaac Schwimmer, an old college friend. There's nothing wrong with Isaac's life — he's a fabulously successful publisher of pornographic books, his social life is a bachelor's fantasy, and he lives next door to a Penthouse model as smart as she is beautiful (well, almost). When Isaac proposes that Ezra write a dirty book for a little fast cash, Ezra takes him up on the offer. Little does he know that his book, Every Inch a Lady (by 'E.A. Peau') will radically change his life, and throw the campus into chaos."
    ...and it has changed my life, too. I've given a couple copies to some people I knew would like it, and it certainly launched interesting conversations with them!

The most elegant book I read: Art Corriveau's Housewrights (Penguin Books, 2002)
    Selected for purchase at the library where I worked, this was also my vote for the "everybody reads" book that summer. It so deeply resonated in my mind, shook me up, and haunted my dreams. Beautifully wrought, it is also devastating.
    "Set in a small Vermont town in the early decades of the twentieth century, Housewrights tells the story of Lily Willard, the town librarian, and her relationship with Oren and Ian Pritchard, housewrights who roam New England building houses for others though they themselves are homeless. Lily first meets the twins when they are children, and the boys arrive with their father to build Lily's family a new farmhouse. Ten years later, Oren returns for Lily. He asks her to marry him. She agrees, if he will settle down—for the first time in his life. Always lurking, though, is the question of Ian, off fighting the Great War. But when he returns, shell-shocked and wounded, Lily welcomes him into their home. Eyebrows are raised only silently at this unusual household, until one evening at the Grange Hall dance the three take a heady, impetuous waltz together—with practically the entire town watching."
 
The most surprising book I read
A Cup of Tea by Amy Ephron (William Morrow, 1997)
    A deceptively small book, practically a novella, this is a tiny powerhouse. It seems light and sunny, until it's unbearably tense.
     "A seductive romance, set in New York City's high society during the period of World War I. A Cup of Tea is about two very different women and their pursuit of one man. Inspired by the classic Katherine Mansfield short story, Amy Ephron's novel begins when a privileged socialite, Rosemary Fell, invites Eleanor Smith, a penniless young woman, to her home to warm herself by the fire and to have a cup of tea. When Rosemary sees her fiancé Phillip, exchange a look with Eleanor, she gives the young woman a few dollars and sends her on her way, thinking she has cast Eleanor out of their lives. Instead, this chance encounter sets into play a tempestuous and all-consuming triangle in the great romantic tradition. Rosemary will marry Phillip, but can she stop the passion between Eleanor and Phillip? As the war builds in Europe, Phillip is conscripted to fight abroad, throwing all of their lives further off-balance."
    This is one of those books that I read every couple of years, because it tells a different story and leaves a different impression each time. It scares me, makes me sad, bewilders, and ultimately feels like an old (if disturbing) friend.
 
The most disappointing book I read: I'm reluctant to give airtime to something disappointing! I'm going with a free space. 
    The most-reread book not otherwise listed in this series: David McCullough's The Path Between the Seas: The Creation of the Panama Canal, 1870-1914 (Simon & Schuster, 1978)
    In grad school, I took a course about The Gilded Age. I'm not terribly interested in American History, though, so it was a challenge from the start. That is, until we chose topics for our research projects. Mine was on the planning for and building of the Panama Canal, which was an American obsession during the Gilded Age. The project was a triumph of progress and innovation, not only in engineering but geology, oceanography, and—prehaps more than anything—medicine. This book was one of many sources for that paper (long lost), and I've reread it several times since.
    "The Path Between the Seas tells the story of the men and women who fought against all odds to fulfill the 400-year-old dream of constructing an aquatic passageway between the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans. It is a story of astonishing engineering feats, tremendous medical accomplishments, political power plays, heroic successes, and tragic failures. Applying his remarkable gift for writing lucid, lively exposition, McCullough weaves the many strands of the momentous event into a comprehensive and captivating tale.
    Winner of the National Book Award for history, the Francis Parkman Prize, the Samuel Eliot Morison Award, and the Cornelius Ryan Award (for the best book of the year on international affairs),
The Path Between the Seas is a must-read for anyone interested in American history, the history of technology, international intrigue, and human drama."
 
The most unpleasant book I read: as with the last prompt, I am opposed to promoting something specifically unpleasant. Free space!
   
The oldest book I read cover to cover: The Collected Poems of Rupert Brooke (John Lane Co., 1916)
    I'm taking some liberties with this one, since it's hard to know (not something that even I keep track of!). However, this one's got to be close - and I've read it more than once.
    "Rupert Chawner Brooke (3 August 1887-23 April 1915) was an English poet known for his idealistic war sonnets written during the First World War, especially 'The Soldier'. He was also known for his boyish good looks, which were said to have prompted the Irish poet W. B. Yeats to describe him as 'the handsomest young man in England'. He died of septicaemia following a mosquito bite whilst aboard a French hospital ship moored off the island of Skyros in the Aegean Sea, aged 27."
    Brooke's poetry is idealistic and formal. His sonnets generally regard the two focuses of his life: war and love. He was notorious, and embroiled in love affairs with numerous famous people, often fellow writers, of both genders. 
    I admire his poetry, which is lyrical and easy to read, often witty, and profoundly tender. He wrote about things that I care about, and in a way that I wish I could write. I'm glad that I read his work in this old, broken copy, because it seems philosophically appropriate.
 
The most luminous book I read: Gabriel Garcia Marquez' One Hundred Years of Solitude (Harper & Row 1970 [in English])
    Why does someone pick up a book like this? Well, it was recommended to me by my only college English prof. The last month or so of school, I asked each of my favorite teachers to give me a list of must-read books. I trusted his judgment, believed in his taste, and was deeply admiring of him... and I wanted to be worthy of all those things in response, too. 
     "One of the most influential literary works of our time, One Hundred Years of Solitude remains a dazzling and original achievement by the masterful Gabriel Garcia Marquez, winner of the Nobel Prize in Literature.
    "One Hundred Years of Solitude tells the story of the rise and fall, birth and death of the mythical town of Macondo through the history of the Buendiá family. Inventive, amusing, magnetic, sad and alive with unforgettable men and women—brimming with truth, compassion, and a lyrical magic that strikes the soul—this novel is a masterpiece in the art of fiction."
    Although it can be intimidating, the time and effort is absolutely worth it. This book is gorgeously written, enthralling, and unforgettable. 
 
[based on this post; the title quotation is by Gabriel Garcia Marquez, from Love in the Time of Cholera]

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