I was heartened to hear Sherman Alexie chant the word books 15 or 20 times in a row, the chant of love, of adoration, of kinship. And I do idolize them, but they currently surround me, threaten me, climbing up on the tables and sofas, baring their spines, snapping their pages, ready to leap. Sons & Lovers (the next in my Modern Library pilgrimage having just finished Darkness at Noon by Arthur Koestler, the greatest book ever written); The Power of the Dog by Thomas Savage (my friend Rick Newby has just published (via Drumlummon) a re-issue of The Pass by Savage); Tree of Smoke by one of my all-time favorite authors Denis Johnson, and what will perhaps become the definitive Vietnam War novel (and winner of the National Book Award in 2007); The Power of Now (which I'll never finish since the Now is never-ending) by Vancouver spiritual teacher Echardt Tolle; The Dog Who Spoke With Gods by Diane Jessup (can never read enough good dog novels); Shadow Country by Peter Matheissen (the whole Watson trilogy revamped!). I must read furiously to keep them at bay! Or perhaps I'll succumb and read the New Yorker book reviews and find even MORE!
Great lyric of the week - "If words could speak I wonder what they'd say?" Martha and the Muffins
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