Quote Round-Up: February 2013

"Life itself is a quotation." Jorge Luis Borges

For years and years I have "saved" quotes. In journals, Word documents, on napkins, whatever. I would jot down passages and sentences that struck my fancy. And there it would be. Sitting there. Not being read by anyone and honestly, just cluttering shit up.

Well, now I have a BLOG. Finally, somewhere to harness all of those passages, sentences, thoughts, jokes, statements, that I carry around. I have decided that on the last day of every month, I'll have a quotes round-up. Now instead of me saying to myself, "Wow, that was lovely/horrifying/interesting," everyone can say it!

Happy Birthday!

Ayn Rand, February 2

In this world, either you're virtuous or you enjoy yourself. Not both, lady, not both.

But I don't think of you.- Howard Roark

James Joyce, February 2

But my body was like a harp and her words and gestures were like fingers running upon the wires.

Gertrude Stein (Pittsburgh native!), February 3

If you can't say anything nice about anyone else, come sit next to me.

You look ridiculous if you dance

You look ridiculous if you don't dance

So you might as well

dance. 

William S. Burroughs, February 5

There is no intensity of love or feeling that does not involve the risk of crippling hurt. It is a duty to take this risk, to love and feel without defense or reserve.

Charles Dickens, February 7

Have a heart that never hardens, and a temper that never tires, and a touch that never hurts.

Boris Pasternak, February 10

I don't think I could love you so much if you had nothing to complain of and nothing to regret. I don't like people who have never fallen or stumbled. Their virtue is lifeless and of little value. Life hasn't revealed it's beauty to them.

Anais Nin, February 21

I'm awaiting a lover. I have to be rent and pulled apart and live according to the demons and the imagination in me. I'm restless. Things are calling me away. My hair is being pulled by the stars again.

Edward Gorey, February 22

 John Steinbeck, February 27

I have always lived violently, drunk hugely, eaten too much or not at all, slept around the clock or missed two nights of sleeping, worked too hard and too long in glory, or slobbed for a time in utter laziness. I've lifted, pulled, chopped, climbed, made love with joy and taken my hangovers as a consequence, not as a punishment.

Dog Boy, Eva Hornung

She was motherly to the puppies: firm and distant and bossy. He wondered what dog milk tasted like, and edged closer. His stomach gurgled. She watched him steadily. The warmth of the nest, warmth of the squirming bodies, rose to heat his face. His dropped to his hands and knees, to his belly and wriggled towards her. She growled, steady and low, and he stopped. Then he inced closer, again, eyes averted. She was growling softly when he reaches her flank and the full heat of the puppies. He curled himself slowly into that warm bed and pulled off his freezing mittens.

He could smell the puppies now, warm and spicy-milky, sucking, sucking. He could smell her, too, stinky and comforting. He didn't move except for an involuntary shivering. She growling on but didn't move either. This growl was for him. But it was a mind your manners growl, not a get out of my sight growl and he waited, minding his manners. Then she stopped and began licking her puppies. She reached over and cleaned his face too. Her tongue was warm and wet, sweet and sour. He licked his lips and tasted her spit and the faint taste of milk.

Snowdrops, A.D. Miller

"Snowdrop. Your friend is a snowdrop." That's what the Russians call them, he told me- the bodies that float up into the light in the thaw. Drunks most of them, and homeless people who just give up and lie down into the whiteness, and murder victims hidden in the drifts by their killers.

Snowdrops: the badness that is already there, always there and very close, but which you somehow manage not to see. The sins the winter hides, sometimes forever.

Of course, when I think about it there is guilt, there is some guilt. But most of all there is loss. That is what really hurts. I miss the toasts and the snow. I miss the rush of neon on the Bulvar in the middle of the night. I miss Masha. I miss Moscow.

Travels in Siberia, Ian Frazier

My own theory about Russia and the Mongols is more psychological or fanciful, and addresses the questions I said I had stopped thinking about but actually can't help returning to: namely, how Russia can be so great and so horrible simultaneously. I think one answer is that when other countries were in their beginnings, developing institutions of governments and markets and a middle class and so on, Russia was beset with Mongols. That is, Russia can be thought of as an abused country; one has to make allowances for her because she was badly mistreated in her childhood by the Mongols.

In America we love roads. To be "on the road" is to be happy and alive and free. Whatever lonesomeness the road implies is also a blankness that soon will be filled with possibility. A road leading to the horizon almost always signifies a hopeful vista for American. "Riding off into the sunset" has always been our happy ending. But I could find no happy-ending vista here, only the opposite. This had also been called the Convicts' Road or the Exiles' Road. Not only was it long and lonesome, but it ran permanently in the wrong direction, from the exiles' point of view. Longing and melancholy seemed to have worked themselves into the very soil; the old road and the land around it seemed downcast, as if they'd had their feelings hurt by how much the people passing by did not want to be here.

 

Happy March! 

In Soviet Russia, Books Read You.

Weird little factoid about me: my minor in undergrad was Russian History (amazing blog on the subject.) I assure you that it was not because of some deep abiding interest in Russian History- although it did become a deep, abiding interest. It was because I am terrible at life's paperwork and always registered for classes late. That meant I ended up taking Russian Masterpieces of the 19th Century and Russian History post-1917, Russian History pre-1917, Russian During the Revolution, Communism and Stalin, etc.

In my final semester, my advisor was all like, "Hey Terrible-Student-Whose-Name-I-Can-Never-Remember, take another Russian literature class and you'll have an official minor." So that's what I did and now I can act like a smarty-pants Jeopardy contestant because I know all of this obscure Russian history.

J/k. I don't remember shit.

Since the weather in Pittsburgh has been miserably arctic, I thought I'd write about places even more arctic and forbidding, like the former USSR, modern-day Russia, and the coldest of the cold, Siberia. (As I write this the temperature in Yakutsk is -38 degrees Celcius. This is considered "fair" weather.) Zdorovo!

NON-FICTION

White fever: A Journey to the Frozen Heart of Siberia by Jacek Hugo-Bader
Hugo-Bader is a Polish journalist (White Fever is a translation) and according to his biography also a "weigher of pigs and counsellor of troubled couples." In 2007, as a birthday gift to himself, Hugo-Bader decided to drive from Moscow to Vladivostok, a distance of 9037 km (over 5600 miles.) That's a weird ass birthday gift, if you ask me. If you are looking for a straight-up travelogue then you should skip this title. Hugo-Bader does write about his actual travelling (more in the beginning and end), but most of this story is about the people he meets on the road. It's the dark side of Siberia explored, the side where alcoholism is rampant, the AIDS epidemic is exploding, suicides and murders are endemic- a Siberia "killing itself." There are wonderful moments of dark humor, with hopeful rappers, reindeer shepherds, and shamans, but ultimately Hugo-Bader is a journalist- and if it bleeds, it leads.

Travels in Siberia by Ian Frazier

Using a place as punishment may or may not be fair to the people who are punished there, but it always demeans and does a disservice to the place.

When I started Travels I was expecting a brief history of the Soviet Union, maybe a little about the fall of Communism and it's affect on the population and of course, the role of Siberia in all of that. What I didn't expect was an epic, sweeping historical, cultural, and psychological story about Russia (in all her various forms) told with warmth and humor. Frazier writes about Siberia's more famous exiles (Dostoevsky, Lenin, Stalin) and some not-so-famous, like Natalie Lopukhin (exiled for copying the Empress' dress, no kidding.) He also chronicles life in the post-Soviet landscape, with less despair and more hope than many other authors. Frazier has an obvious love for Russia and it shows in his tender depictions of her.

Cycling Home from Siberia : 30,000 Miles, 3 Years, 1 Bicycle by Rob Lilwall
In September, a group of friends and I are riding our bikes from Pittsburgh to Washington, DC via a very nice rails-to-trails system. We are riding to DC, a distance of about 325 miles and taking a train back. I'm a little afraid: What if I can't do it? Then there's this guy. Rob Lilwall. Rides his bike from Siberia to freaking  England, via Papua New Guinea, Australia, China, and Afghanistan. (For all of you smart asses, I am aware that  you can't cycle to Australia; he took a damn boat.) It isn't a typical cycling travelogue: he doesn't get into the mechanical problems (there's NO way he didn't have them) or what he ate (protein, bro!) He does recommend eating ice cream, as it's full of calories and fat. Fine by me. Cycling Home is more introspective, he wonders why he's doing this trip and frankly, a little "Jesus-y" at times. (Lilwall is a born-again Christian.)

Lost and Found in Russia : Lives in a Post-Soviet Landscape by Susan Richards
Of all the books on this list, this is the one I found the most depressing. Considering what we're dealing with here, that is saying something. Perhaps because I did read a lot about the fall of Communism in Russia (and you know, lived through it) I didn't find the despair (and poisoned food and murder and suicide) all that surprising- and Richards, a long-time traveler (1992-2008) in post-Soviet Russia didn't either. One reviewer said, "Russia is darker and crazier than I though." Richards documents the crazy and harsh transition with a clear love of Russia: the language, the culture, and the people. A lot of the writing feels informal because Richards is talking about her real friends, not "subjects." What makes this story all the more tragic is that it's now; this isn't "history" it's current affairs.

On the Run in Siberia by Rane Willerslev

Every once in a while I'll see a television show that makes me want to be an adventurer. Then I read a book like this and realize I'm perfectly content managing a library, riding my bike, hanging out with my husband and feeding my cats. Idealist Rane Willerslev is a Danish anthropologist who heads into the Siberia wild with an idea of forming a fair-trade fur cooperative with the Yukaghir hunters. Since the fall of Communism, the fur trade had been monopolized by a very corrupt regional corporation- who apparently stop at nothing, including murder, to hang on to that monopoly. Willerslev, instead of creating his cooperative, is actually forced into hiding in the Siberian wilds: which is where the real story starts. Willerslev faces frostbite, starvation, exile, and political corruption during his year with the Yukaghir hunters. On the Run is shocking and at times deeply (surprisingly) moving. It also makes me grateful for my hot coffee and warm house.

FICTION

Dog Boy by Eva Hornung
In 1998, the end of the Cold War and the breakdown of the Russian economy created over 2 million homeless children. Many parents simply packed up and left, leaving children as young as two years old to fend for themselves. Dog Boy was inspired by the true story of Ivan Mishukuv, a four-year old who lived with a pack of wild dogs for two years until he was "rescued." If you are interested in the real story, it is included in Savage Girls and Wild Boys: A History of Feral Children by Michael Newton. Dog Boy is a work of fiction (and one of my favorite books), but it is so beautifully and realistically rendered that I found it so easy to imagine to sleeping in a pile of smelly wild dogs, burying my face in their warm bellies to escape the harsh Moscow cold and sharing scraps of food with them. Four year old Romochka and the dogs work together to survive and that includes preying on other people. Eventually they earn the notice of the "authorities" and Romochka is "rescued" from the dogs. I honestly don't know what I expected, but I found the ending heart-breaking. This book stayed with me for a long time.

Maps and Shadows by Krysia Jopek
Hey, did you know that during World War II almost 1.5 million Polish civilians were deported to forced labor camps in Siberia? Isn't that a cheerful little fact? As should be apparent by now I read a lot of depressing books. This is a very short (151 pages) book that packs a sharp punch. The writing is so beautiful and lyrical; the story so horrifying and bleak. Taken from Jopek's real family history, the story is told from the point of view of five different members of her family who were deported from Poland after the Soviet invasion. "Deported" is a nice word for what actually occurred: the loss of their entire lives. The family is separated multiple times, members being sent to Africa, England, Uzbekistan, Italy- all eventually ending up in the United States. The book has a lot of unusual touches, but the poetry interspersed throughout the book was my favorite.

Ice Garden

This scrim of the inner room

The door of some other now, the book

Of will unknown. The book of how

And why drowned, encrusted under:

Sisyphus longed for a beginning, middle

And end to make it all bearable or seem

To have context. The shortest distance

Between two points can be viole[n]t

Those wounds in the armpits

Wary at the lookout, ready to bow

And disregard history's narrative.

The People's Act of Love by James Meek

I am not finished with this book yet. I found it while looking up other books about Siberia. It's fascinating. I love the main character, Samarin and I'm dreading what awful shit is about to happen to him. So far he's charming, handsome, bright, and referred by local townspeople as schastlivchik (the lucky one.) Anyone who has ever read a book knows that doesn't bode well for him. Honestly, who wants to read nearly 400 pages about someone's awesomeluckygreat life? From the book jacket, I gather Samarin gets tossed in a Siberian prison camp, escapes and ends up in a bizarre, totally lawless town full of interesting characters. James Meek's writing  has been compared to Tolstoy's for it's humane voice and his current book, The Heart Broke In, was shortlisted for the 2012 Costa Prize. 

Snowdrops by A.D.Miller

I smelled it before I saw it.

In Russia, a "snowdrop" is a corpse that lies hidden in the snow until the spring thaw. You are welcome for that pleasant imagery. This is a weird little book about the hedonistic life of Nick Platt, an English lawyer in Moscow for on business. I'm not even entirely sure I enjoyed this book (It was long-listed for the Man Booker. I generally dislike Man Booker choices. Because I'm a peasant.) Nick Platt isn't particularly a likable character: he's sexist, easily led, a bit amoral. He doesn't actively act unethically, but he doesn't ask too many questions either: of his employer and their shady oil deal he's brokering or of the sisters he "rescues" from a purse snatching, Masha and Katya. Instead, he is swept away by the exotic and intense lifestyle of Moscow's young club scene. Written as a letter to his fiance, there is a lot of justifying, not a ton of taking responsibility. Platt is surprised that he was taken in by Masha and Katya, when most of his instincts about both women are dead wrong. Moscow is so vividly written and described that it is a character in itself. It's magical and debauched, corrupt and kind, a place for the young. 

Sashenka by Simon Sebag Montefiore

Simon Montefiore is easily one of the best writers of all things Russian. His non-fiction books, Young Stalin, Stalin: Court of the Red Czar, and Catherine the Great and Potemkin read like historical novels; as usual proving that fact is stranger than fiction. Anyone who has read about Stalin has a decent hate on for him and Montefiore doesn't deny that he was a brutal motherfucker. He does, however, do the impossible and make him human. Sashenka is Montefiore's only fiction book and it makes you wish he would write more. I'll get it out there now, I hate Communism. (Duh.) But I love Sashenka (the character), good little Red that she is. She grows up rich, with spoiled aristocratic parents who party with Rasputin. Instead of falling into the languorous trap of parties, booze and opium, Sashenka joins the Revolution. (Not on the side of her parents.) Eventually she builds a life for herself, her husband (an important member of the party) and her children: an elite, sheltered life. Naively believing herself to be safe from KGB suspicion and despite the fact that her friends are constantly disappearing, Sashenka risks everything for one single love affair. As usual, that doesn't work out well. The true horror lies not in the downfall or even in the final punishment of Sashenka (which is so brutal as to be almost unreadable), but in her forgotten heroism, her unselfish efforts to save her children from her mistakes. This is not a feel-good story about Stalin's Russia.

TO READ

Between Shades of Gray by Ruta Sepetys

This is technically a Young Adult title. It has been recommended for readers who love The Book Thief by Markus Zusak (which better be ALL the readers who read The Book Thief.) It's the story of an artistic Lithuanian girl and her family taken in the middle of the night, put on a train, and sent to Siberia. That would be a great way to spend your teenage years, no? This book was kind of over-hyped when it was released, but enough people have recommended it that I'm game. 

Tseluyu!

50 Shades of...Oh Barf: Valentine's Day!

Art: Starry-Eyed Kid

I have a confession to make. My husband and I are terrible at Valentine's Day. T.E.R.R.I.B.L.E. We actually try to pretend it doesn't exist so as to not tempt the fates. One year we had theater tickets and dinner reservations, flowers...the whole adorable little thing. Our dinner never came and we ended up late to the theater; which didn't matter because the show was awful. Another year, we had a hotel extravaganza planned. Except my husband fell and smacked his face off of a curb. So we walked through the lobby of one of Pittsburgh's fanciest hotels covered in blood at one o'clock in the morning.

We are a classy couple.

As you can imagine, I'm not a "romance" reader at all. I believe in the theory that if you've read one, you've read them all. Erotica on the other hand...ever since I got The Delta of Venus (holy shit, in high school, like 20 years ago) I've been an avid reader, so to speak. Naturally when the entire world lost their minds over 50 Shades of Grey (and Darker and Freed) I had to read them.

*Puke.*

Even if I could ignore the fact that the writing is Stephanie Meyer-level bad, I'd still want to punch Anastasia Steele in her chewed-lip-blinky face. "Oh, I'm an adult woman and I've never been kissed." What the fuck ever. She's a dolt. And all that "inner Goddess" crap? Gag.

And don't even get me started on Christian Grey. Dude's a unicorn. It isn't because of the kinky sex (because it's actually pretty vanilla sex, they just do it in a special room and they get married, for Christ's sake. Oooh, marriage. Kinky.) And it isn't because he's rich or good-looking. Or even because he's "damaged." It's because he decides what is for dinner. (I think I just heard a chorus of "Amens" up and down the block.) Sure, tie me up, blindfold me, spank me, whatever. But I will be your slave if you just decide what we're going to have for dinner.

The whole point of me skewering 50 Shades is because there is so much better porn erotica out there. Quality writing about sex is something to behold and your psyche and intelligence shouldn't be abused by this "mommy porn" shit. I compiled a list of my personal favorites. Feel free to include your own favorites. I'm always looking for new authors. You know, for research.

The Marketplace, The Slave, The Trainer, The Academy, The Reunion, Laura Antoniou
The titles speak for themselves. I'm not going to embarrass myself and you with lengthy explanations. I learned a lot from this series. Some good useful things, some things I sincerely wish I could unread.

Vox, Nicholson Baker

The fact is, I am indiscriminate. If I had called this number, and there had been a woman of extremely limited intelligence who had responded to my voice...if I could have talked her through [orgasming], that would have been a wonderful privilege and I would have [orgasmed] too and I would have hung up after twenty minutes feeling great. But that's why talking to you seems like such a miraculous once-in-a-lifetime thing, because you are smart and funny and aroused and delightful.

Sadly, I don't think this story could happen in 2013. Do phone sex lines even exist anymore? (BRB. Well they sure do! Who knew?) This entire book takes place over the course of one night. A man and a woman hook up on a sex chat line and end up connecting in a big, intelligence way.

Venus in India, Charles Devereaux
Captain Devereaux can't keep his hands off of other men's wives. Stationed in Hindustan, far away from his young wife, Devereaux explores lust as an art. The writing is lush and heated.

Erotic Tales of the Victorian Age, multiple authors
This is more cute (?) than erotic, but I had to include it because it contains a very sexy tale by "Walter." There is also a very long Lolita-like tale and I wonder if it inspired Nabokov...

The Mammoth Book of Erotica Series, edited by Maxim Jakubowski

It's like the Chicken Soup for the Soul Series, but for the sexy soul. There are at least fifty variations of this title put out by Mammoth Books. There is New Erotica, Best Erotica, Best New Erotica, Erotica for Women, Erotica for Men, Erotica for Gay folks, Erotica for Straight folks, Erotica for House Cats...I think you get my point. If you can't find something by these writers to appeal to your filthy little mind, I can't help you. Some of the more famous writers include Poppy Z. Brite, Bram Stoker (who knew Dracula was so hot?), Martin Amis, and whole host of new authors. Plus, it's all short stories; excellent for those with, ahem, short attention spans.

Nine and a Half Weeks: A Memoir of a Love Affair, Elizabeth McNeill

The first time we were in bed together he held my hands pinned down above my head. I liked it.

This another one of those books that I read when I was way too young. I totally didn't get it. Years later, I reread it after watching the terrible movie. You know how Oprah has her "Aha" moments? Yeah, that. It's hot, it's kinky, it makes you think differently about your kitchen and it's contents. It's based on a true story, which means it could happen to you!

Delta of Venus, Little Birds, Henry and June, Anais Nin

When she closed her eyes she felt he had many hands, which touched her everywhere, and many mouths, which passed so swiftly over her, and with a wolf-like sharpness, his teeth sank into her fleshiest parts. Naked now, he lay his full length over her. She enjoyed his weight on her, enjoyed being crushed under his body. She wanted him soldered to her, from mouth to feet. Shivers passed through her body.

Before I do anything, let me tell you my librarian WIN story about Anais Nin. I write for my library's (very excellent, award-winning) blog. One post was about favorite love stories. I included Henry and June because I have a fucked up idea of what a love story is. A fellow librarian read it and fell so in love with it that she now has the call number tattooed on her wrist. I am the Librarian-of-the-Mother-Fucking-Year. Nin started writing short erotica stories for $1 a page. And write she did! Delta of Venus and Little Birds is full of smart, sexy stories (or vignettes if you're feeling extra French)- about artists and aristocrats and peasants and everyone in between. Her writing is surprisingly modern and definitely stands the test of time. My personal favorite of all.

The Story of O, Pauline Reage
The classic story of submission.

The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty, Beauty's Punishment, Beauty's Release, A.N. Roqualere (Anne Rice)
A retelling of Sleeping Beauty- but Beauty isn't woken up with just a kiss. This is not Disney.

Justine, Marquis de Sade
All right, I know de Sade was a little on the crazy side, but boy, he could write a good tale! Justine actually isn't so shocking now in the internet age, but for the 18th century? Dude went to jail for the book and for doing the stuff in the book Often. He was a libertine and he reveled in it- and it shows in his enthusiasm for sodomy, three-ways, orgies, and virgins.

Whew.

Have a Happy Valentine's Day, even if it's not your thing or you're single or fighting with your S.O. or you're allergic to flowers and chocolate or you're just a damn difficult human being. Always remember what Matthew Inman from The Oatmeal says about V-Day:

Less Complaining.

More Sexy Rumpus.

UPDATE:

A very awesome, smart friend of mine let me know that THIS exists. How I forgot Casanova's memoirs is anyone's guess. How I didn't know that Benedict Cumberbatch narrated it simply embarrassing. If you are unaware of who this glorious man is, watch this. You'll thank me. (Notice Timothy S., not a Swede.)

Books That Changed Me.

I guess it's time to let the book geek out of the bag. (I'm sure you all suspected.) I like reading books, I like writing about books and talking about them, and lately, I've enjoyed looking at pictures of them at Book Porn. (I do realize this is a whole new level of book geekery.)

There are pictures like this:

Klementium Library in Prague, Czech Republic

and this:

15th Century Book of Hours

And lots like this:

So you can see the appeal, yes?

While screwing around doing research, I came across a project called Books That Changed Me. It's pretty much exactly what it says, so I'm going to spare you a lengthy explanation.

As I tried to think of books that changed me, I realized I couldn't pick just one. (Sort of like Lay's potato chips.) Top 10, in alphabetical order so no one gets jealous.

The Mists of Avalon, Marion Zimmer Bradley

Signed book plate!

I knew the tales of Camelot and King Arthur when I was a kid. They didn't appeal to me then and they didn't appeal to me as a young adult. Because apparently I was a feminist before I knew it and all of the tales were dominated by men, which did not interest me. All the chicks in the traditional tales are either dimwits (Gwenhwyfar) or evil, ball-busting witches (Morgan le Fay.) None them have any personality or power, just those boring ass one-dimensional stereotypes. The Mists of Avalon tells the tales of Camelot from a woman's point of view. And, holy shit, what women they were! Morgaine (Morgan le Fay) isn't an evil sorceress, she's misunderstood and just wants to be loved! But her aunt Morgause sure is a bitch. Gwenhwyfar has a 3-way! Igraine was a secret bad-ass who fell in love with a not-so-secret bad-ass and produced Arthur! Lancelet is kind of a douche. King Arthur is wonderful, but sometimes spoiled and petulant. If you're a reader like me, you'll also appreciate the boatload of prequels and sequels.

James and the Giant Peach, Roald Dahl

When I first considered what books changed me, this is the first book I went to. I don't necessarily relate to James: I'm not an orphan, no mean aunts abused me and unfortunately, no one has ever given me a sack of magical, glowing-green, crocodile tongues. What James and the Giant Peach did do was make me realize the potential for storytelling and fiction and OMG books are amazing. This is the first "chapter" book I was exposed to, thanks to my third grade teacher (shout out to Mrs. Cypher nee Garrett.) This is also the book I chose to read from for the library's 24 Hour Read Aloud.

The Count of Monte Cristo, Alexandre Dumas

My 1901 copy of Monte Cristo

Oh, Edmund Dantes, how could that bitch Mercedes give up on you? Thanks to a very good friend (looking at you, DWR) I was more or less forced to read this book. There was some cajoling involved ("C'mon, you'll love it. Honest!") All I knew about Dumas was The Three Musketeers movie- which, no*. Again, being a contrary bitch means saying sorry because I loved- devoured- this book. It introduced me to a new genre (ADVENTURE!) I moved on from The Count of Monte Cristo to the rest of Dumas and then to books about pirates and prison breaks. The new biography out about Alexandre Dumas' father (the son of an African slave and French nobleman) called The Black Count: Glory, Revolution, Betrayal, and the Real Count of Monte Cristo by Tom Reiss shows that many of Dumas' characters were inspired by his own pops.

Separation, Dan Franck

Even the cover is depressing.

I believe this (Prix Renaudot winning) book is the reason I didn't get married until I was 30. It inspired in me a complete horror of divorce. Now I know you are thinking, "Hey, aren't your parents divorced?" Well, yes, but that was over 30 years ago and they both have been remarried for over 25 years. (If I'm not over that, I need to get a fucking grip.) If you have ever had a relationship die a slow, agonizing death (just rip the band-aid off, dammit!) you'll see yourself in this novel. She stops holding his hand. She won't meet his eyes. She says this:

You humiliate my heart. You humiliate me...it's humiliating for a woman to make love to a man she doesn't desire anymore.

Tough stuff. It's elegant and awful and imminently readable.

The Autobiography of Henry VIII, Margaret George

I picked this up on a whim at Eljay's Used Books. I didn't know a damn thing about Henry VIII, Tudor England, or any European History. I read it in a day. Since then I have probably read every fiction book written about Henry Tudor and his wives, daughters, friends, enemies (and many, many non-fiction books, too.) This book introduced me to the historical fiction genre which I didn't know EXISTED. In turn, that inspired an interest in real history- local, national and worldwide.

The Bachman Books, Stephen King

You know the movie The Running Man? It came from this book of short stories. And it's the worst story of the four! The other three stories, Rage, The Long Walk and Road Work would all be amazing movies. I was probably too young to read this, but whatever. This book changed me in two ways. First of all, as a budding writer, it introduced me to the idea of short stories. I mean, I was 11 and wanted to write a novel, but there's not much to go on at that age. But a short story? Oh, hell yes, that could be done! Second, it was the first time I was ever emotionally invested in a character. I *loved* Peter McVries (The Long Walk) and his scar and his sub-conscious death wish (which honestly was just a preview of coming attractions for me.)

Atlas Shrugged, Any Rand

Any time I mention enjoying Rand books, I immediately get flamed for being an egoist, an elitist, or a Republican. I'm none of those things. Not too many elitists work for the public library, I'm just saying. Like any book, you should take what you want/need from it. I didn't swallow her philosophy whole, but you know what? She had some smart things to say about the nature of happiness and joy, and valuing yourself. Now, I'm not going to push a cripple into the street and I donate to charity, but there is something to be said for being aware of your worth. Self-confidence is sexy, yo. It's also simply a good story, especially if you like heavy industry, politics, and trains. Henry Rearden is my favorite fictional character. *swoon*

Hamlet, William Shakespeare

I knew all the words to Romeo and Juliet when I was 4 years old, thanks to my mother and this. And that would be the extent of my interest in William Shakespeare until I was in college. As a writing major, I had a ton of reading. For some reason, I had to read Hamlet for six different classes. I discovered Shakespeare in all of his greatness. For a long time I was caught up in the actual writing, the syntax, the stage directions, etc. Finally, I stopped worrying and just read the damn thing. You know, like a book. It worked and I was captured, enamored, in love, smitten. I moved on from the tragedies to the comedies (thanks to the gift of the Complete Works of William Shakespeare from the husband) and that was that: Shakespeare was my boy.

Falling Up, Shel Silverstein

Usually when I think of poetry I think of this guy. But Shel Silverstein was my first poet and is still the one I love the most. His poems are funny and subversive and short and silly and sometimes oddly sweet. He wrote about Short-Leg Sue and his illustrations are always so whimsical. He draws an excellent butt. He also wrote a poem about overdue library books, so as a librarian, I think he's A-OK.

War and Peace, Leo Tolstoy

In my final semester in undergrad, I took 19th Century Russian Masterpieces. (I was there a long time, it was slim pickins' at that point.) The reading list was intense. Crime and Punishment (Dostoevsky), Chekhov plays, Dead Souls (Gogol), Pushkin, Turgenev, and of course, the granddaddy of Russian novels, War and Peace. I was dreading it. I was intimidated by it. Just the name hurt my stomach. But since I wanted to graduate from college some day, I sucked it up and opened it. Oh. My. Word. Four days later, I finished it, crying. It's the damn Russian Gone with the Wind and don't let anyone tell you different. Go Team Andrei!

What book changed you?

*Ever since my husband and I watched The Count of Monte Cristo with Jim Caviezel  he has hated Guy Pearce.

I Love My Library.

Photo: Pacific Library Partnership

February is Love Your Library Month! While you are at it give some love to your librarian, too. Cookies are always nice. Or wine.

Unless you have the world's worst reading comprehension (or this is your first visit), it has probably come to your attention that I'm a librarian. And I really dig my job. Because I (no joke) have my dream job. How many people get to say that? I'm still at the point where I walk in every day and think, "Holy shit, I have this job." Cool, right?

When my boss told me I had the job, I burst into tears. Because I am a professional.

So I love being a librarian, I love everything about libraries: I love the silly little things like golf pencils, fancy bookmarks, the smell of old books, seeing new books before they hit the shelves. I love the big things like making sure everyone has equal access to information, giving someone their first library card, introducing someone to a new author. But most of all, I love that moment I have every single day (usually in the morning) when everything is still and tidy and quiet, when I can breathe in and appreciate that I do something meaningful.

For God's sake, I know the Five Laws of Library Science (which I think should be my next tattoo) from S.R. Ranganathan.

Dude has a STAMP!

Five Laws of Library Science

Books are for use

Every reader his book

Every book its reader

The library is a growing organism

But enough with the romance of librarianship! Let's talk about famous libraries and librarians.

Numbers: There are an estimated 123,000 libraries in the United States, employing nearly 150,000 professional librarians. Nationwide, libraries receive almost 2 BILLION visitors a year. Some days it feels like they all come at once. So this:

The oldest continually running library in the world is at the St. Catherine's Monastery in the Sinai, Egypt. It was built in the 6th Century!

20 of the Most Famous Libraries and 35 Most Amazing Libraries
I think I'll add the 20 Most Famous Libraries to my bucket list. Why not? I visit libraries in every city I go to. (Cape May and Tybee Island are favorites.) I'm not sure how I can get into Jay Walker's private library? Who in the hell is Jay Walker? (Oh hey, lmgtfy.) I love that the Library of Congress is first. I've been there and it is indeed something to see. There are 30 million books there, but no doubt the one you want is checked out. The Folger (Yes, the coffee people and they are buried there. Ew.) Shakespeare Library is also beautiful- and fascinating! I saw a Queen Elizabeth I exhibit and an original Shakespeare folio during my visit. They had an original list of gifts she received for Christmas. She got a lot of gloves. And gigantic jewels. Another American library, Seattle's main branch, made the list, too! Go 'Merica!

Photo: Friends of the Seattle Public Library

Top 25 Most Famous Librarians and Famous Woman Librarians
Casanova, the World's Most Famous Lover is also one of the Most Famous Librarians. He was also famously a drinker, thus proving his librarian chops. Incidentally, Melvil Dewey, inventor of the Dewey Decimal System and another famous librarian, was also a serious ladies' man (or at least had a "persistent inability to control himself around women.") In fact, he is largely responsible for introducing women into the profession. Huh. We can also claim Ben Franklin, Golda Meir, a bunch of Popes, J. Edgar Hoover, several authors, including Stephen King (more on him in a second) and Lewis Carroll and Nancy Pearl (who has an ACTION FIGURE!)

Librarians in Books
OH, the stereotypes! Either I'm a nympho with some weird-ass dominatrix tendencies, a crusty old spinster cat lady with a grey bun or (God Forbid) some terrifying combination of the two. (Ha! You can't unread that!) I'll cop to having a cat (or two) but that's all you're getting out of me. Stephen King: Ok, he was a librarian and either he was or met the most fucked up librarians ever. If you doubt me, read The Library Policeman in his collection of short stories Four Past Midnight. Or read one of his newer collections, Full Dark, No Stars- which features a seriously diabolical librarian. What did a librarian ever to do you, Stephen King?!?

Now go get your librarian some candy! Or again, wine is nice. It goes with everything.