Attached to Books

I think my posts have been getting a little too long on the blog. I am constantly trying to edit myself but, sometimes, I just run away with words...

Today I'll be brief. I promise.

I've been thinking about physical attachments to books. I may have mentioned once or one million times that I live in a small apartment. There is simply not enough room to keep a massive library (though I dream of one...like in Beauty and the Beast, where the ladders fly across the shelves and I can sing as I browse.)

I came to the conclusion that I would not have a problem donating almost all of the books in my library.

As I have come to know a few authors recently, I have several books that are signed specifically to me and I would most certainly keep those.

But other than that, I only have a few select books that I feel the need to have in my home. I'm not a re-reader. I just like the idea that those books are near me.

So tell me. Do you have a physical attachment to books? Are there books you need to carry with you always? Are there books you need to have in close proximity so that you can read them again or do you simply need to know they are there?

Today is the last day to enter my giveaway for a collection of Beth Kephart books. So click and enter if you haven't already. I will announce the winner tomorrow!

Reliable

When I was fifteen years old, I had an unhealthy obsession with The X-Files.

I wanted to marry Fox Mulder and I imagined an entire forty-five minute episode in which I played Agent Dana Scully's pregnant teenage sister. I was an artist who painted canvases inspired by the devil and I was carrying his demon baby. I'm sure this had nothing to do with obsessively watching Rosemary's Baby at that time in my life. Nothing at all.

In any case, things did not end well for me in this fake episode. There were sleepless nights of creative frenzy in which I destroyed the walls in my home with gruesome paintings (all intercut with scenes of Scully struggling with her Christian faith and her love of science.) And, despite countless exorcisms, I didn't make it, because carrying a demon baby can really take a toll.

I tell you this, not so you can go running from this blog begging for mercy (though if you must, I understand), but so you know how deep the obsession for X-Files really went.

I used to tape X-Files episodes on VHS tape on the basement television because I had a very intense TV schedule at that time in my life and this was before DVR and Tivo.

One fateful night, the night of the season finale to be exact, the episode did not tape. Do you hear what I am saying? The season finale of The X-Files did not tape.

Well. You can imagine what ensued. I went into absolute hysterics, shouting expletives no one would have ever imagined could come from the nerd girl who barely spoke, and I physically hurled a VHS tape across the room. My parents stood back wondering, My God, where did we go wrong?

I told Tyler this story the other night in case he wanted to reconsider his future with me and his first thought was not about my insanity but about the VCR malfunctioning.

He's practical that way.

We began talking about the ways in which all the tech in our lives have malfunctioned over the years and then Tyler said, 'That's what is so great about books. They are reliable.'

That was a lightbulb moment for me. Unless you physically set fire to a book, you're guaranteed a story. For a lifetime. What other products can boast that?

It's even more reliable than the story of the devil paintings and the demon baby. Which, fortunately, exists only in my mind.

Taking It To The Whole

Every once and a while I'll be sitting at a meal eating something delicious and I'll discover that I am full. My pants will feel a little tighter. My stomach will feel a little queasy. And I'll start to feel a bit gluttonous. But, here's the thing, if it's delicious enough, it won't matter. I will continue to eat until it is gone.

This is what I fondly call: Taking it to the whole*.

This means that I could be sitting at the table, eating a hamburger and french fries, groaning and whining that I'm so full I could die. And then I'll take another bite. Yeah. It makes no logical sense. Basically, I make the conscious decision that, it's so delicious, there is no way I'm going to leave a spare bite behind.

This also happens to me when I'm reading books. I'll be innocently reading, making my way through the words and I will get to a moment. And I will literally say to myself, That's it. I'm taking it to the whole. This means that, no matter how late it is, whether I'm on page 5 or 500, I have reached a moment where there is NO WAY I am going to put the book down until I've devoured it completely.

I'm thrilled to let you know that this has happened to me three times in recent weeks. Three times! It doesn't happen to me often (at least not as often as it happens to me when I'm eating) so I was really excited. It happened with Kate Racculia's This Must Be The Place. I reached one of those big reveals, which I sometimes call a Maury Povich moment: (You are NOT the father!) and there was simply no way I was going to put the book down until I found out how it unfolded. Then it happened during Mitali Perkins' Bamboo People. I was so invested in the characters that there was no way I was putting the book down until I knew they were all going to be okay. And Rachel Simon's memoir, Riding The Bus With My Sister, in which I just had to know where everyone ended up after a literal and figurative crazy ride.

I just get to this point and there is absolutely no return. Since I mostly read at night, that means that taking it to the whole leaves me sleep deprived.

Does this happen to you guys? With books or food? How often do you take it to the whole?

*I have no idea if this is a real expression or where I ever heard it. I could be using it incorrectly and I wouldn't know. It's occurred to me that the expression could very well be "taking it to the hole" like you are taking it to the grave. Either way, I would like to take delicious food and amazing books to the grave, so I still feel it's appropriate.

UPDATE: Even though I googled and binged it, not finding much on what this expression means, it has come to my attention (Thanks Tyler!) that this is, perhaps, a basketball expression, in which you are 'taking it to the hole' and putting it in the basket. Still works. Still think taking it to the 'whole' in these cases is fine. Any other definitions for this expression are welcome.

Books I Am Grateful For

Everyone is grateful this week. I know I am. And for the usual suspects. My family, my friends, my health, roof over the head, shoes on the feet, and food in the belly. I am lucky. I am blessed.

But let's move on to what I'm also grateful for. And that, my friends, are books. I'm glad people read 'em. I'm glad people write 'em. I'm glad people buy 'em. Whether online, in the store, or on the street. Seems like wherever there are people, there are books. Except where there are not. Because I know not everyone is lucky enough to have their very own books.

I couldn't imagine a life without books. I don't want to get all preachy or anything. You all know a place or a person in your community that needs a book, so maybe you'll find a way to get them one this holiday season.

But I am very grateful I grew up in a house where there were a lot of books. These are some of the books I am especially grateful for:

The Night Before Christmas. This is the first book I remember owning. According to my parents, even before I could read, I read this book. Because it had been read to me so many times, I had memorized every word and the point in time that my parents would turn each page. Apparently, I plopped the book in my lap and began to 'read' the book in its entirety, out loud, for my Uncle Anthony. At the tender age of 3. He thought I was a prodigy.

The Very Hungry Caterpillar. I can remember sitting in a circle at school while my teacher read me this book. I was so excited. I don't have a lot of vivid memories of people reading to me (even though I know they did) so I really treasure this one. The fact that this Caterpillar grew. That we got to hear the words and then the teacher would flip the book around and show us the picture practically blew my mind.

The Swiss Family Robinson. I didn't like this book. But I was really happy to receive it. At some point in elementary school, my teacher made the announcement that she was going to give each one of us in the class our very own book to keep. This meant that it wasn't one of the books everyone in our class had to read together and then discuss. The teacher claimed that each book was hand-picked and no two were alike. The few weeks after the announcement, there was a lot of anticipation about what books we might get. Lord knows why my teacher thought I would enjoy a story about a family of 3 boys shipwrecked on an island in the East Indies. But it was a gift for me. And despite the fact that I didn't particularly like it or that I don't even remember which teacher gave it to me, I think it's amazing that, 20 years later, I remember which book I got. It meant something that a book was chosen especially for me.