The Books Everyone Should Read?

Click to enlarge.

Lists like 'The Top-100 Books Everyone Should Read' come out every year, and often feature more-or-less the same sets of (mostly) novels. Sometimes they're in a different order, sometimes they spice it up a little (Sense and Sensibility instead of Pride and Prejudice, of 1984 instead of Animal Farm, etc.). I tease mostly because these lists make me feel a little inadequate – and I have an English degree, which feels like it should mean I've read most of these books.

Anyway, The Guardian has put together a word cloud (see above) featuring the titles of the must-read books from "over 15 notable book polls" and arranged them so that the titles that appear most frequently appear largest and boldest (essentially the same idea as my tag cloud, to the right of this post). Seeing the titles arranged like this makes me feel like maybe the lists are a bit less repetitive than I thought, and also that some stories are widely considered necessary reads. To Kill a Mockingbird is the clear winner, which is interesting because, compared to some of the other titles, it is relatively contemporary. I also find it rather amazing that Le Petit Prince (or The Little Prince) has made so few lists, as well as the fact that Twilight shows up at all. It is so interesting to examine what other people/organizations deem to be must-reads.

What makes this data extra-interesting is that The Guardian also provides a spreadsheet with all the lists on it, which means that if you wanted to read your way through one of them, you certainly could.

Mainstream Marginalia

For some reason, marginalia – that practice of annotating and noting and commenting along the margins of books – has been all over the place lately. Well, not the marginalia itself, but rather the discussion of it. Is the eBook killing it? Will the eBook in fact make it better and more shareable? What would our study of literature be without it? And so on. I'm not sure I've ever considered marginalia something to really get frantic about, but then, I've never been all that into it.

When I was doing my English degree and reading for class, I wrote in the margins. I underlined bits that I liked, used to brackets and shorthand to remind myself of sections I wanted to discuss in class, and used symbols to mark different places that various themes arose. At the time, this was very helpful when I was preparing for class or setting out to write an essay. Now, though, I drives me crazy. When I go back to read one of those stories, or look up a poem, all my notes and lines and stars distract me. It's as if I'm being interrupted by my old self, which prevents me from engaging in the work from a new perspective. Also, some of the marginal notes I made early on in my degree are incredibly embarrassing now because they point to such obvious things. Although, at the time I suppose it wasn't obvious and was instead exciting. Hmm.

Sam Anderson is a marginalia fiend (that's his commentary in the photo above) and in his New York Times article "What I Really Want is Someone Rolling Around in the Text," he takes the exact opposite stance to the one I've put forward above. He loves marginalia, and for him, it heightens the reading of a text rather than disturbing it. Anderson actually hopes the eBook makes marginalia more prevalent. Imagine the possibilities, he writes, if there was a function that allowed you to share your marginalia. Or, better yet, to read what famous people wrote in the margins of their books. 

I will concede that if I could read Ernest Hemingway's or Roald Dahl's or Margaret Atwood's marginalia, I would be kind of into that. In this sense, the marginal notes offer insight into what they were thinking while reading, and might be more interesting than the actual writing the notes are arranged around. Typically, I like to decide for myself what's important on a page. Specifically, if I see marginal notes and stars before I've read the work, it skews how I read it, because I find myself reading starred or underlined sections differently, wondering to myself "Why did they like this bit so much?" instead of taking it in for what it is.

Maybe the best way around this is an optional eBook button, or, for those of us who still read words printed on paper, a little warning note on the title page stating clearly "Spoilers ahead: Beware Marginalia."

Image from Sam Anderson's piece "A Year in Marginalia" from The Millions. The book he wrote in? Anne Carson's Autobiography of Red.

Little Women

I'm not sure what it is about cold weather that makes me want to read stories about families, but there you go. I suppose it could be related to fond memories of winter fun as a kid: board games after dinner, building snow houses with my dad and sisters, baking cookies with my mum, and, of course, reading in front of the wood stove. That is a very cosy feeling, and nothing quite brings it back like a dip into Louisa May Alcott's classic, Little Women. Perhaps I'm slightly biased because I have sisters, but Little Women has to be one of the best books on how the relationship between sisters works, at least based on my experience.

Alcott's story of the March sisters Meg, Jo, Beth and Amy, their Marmee, and their neighbour, Laurie. It's a coming-of-age story, really – a bildungsroman with a composite cast, although it focuses most on Jo, the second-eldest of the sisters. Jo is a dramatist, a writer, and a bit of a free spirit. The novel is set, as best as I can tell, during the American Civil War (not that war has much to do with the story, except to explain the father's absence for most of it as well as the March family's relative poverty); this kind of explains why the family, despite seeming modern in its sensibilities, remains staunchly conservative in many ways. This isn't necessarily a bad thing, though. A novel about the tension between propriety and impropriety, about women who are growing up in a world that is subtly changing, makes small details (such as the whereabouts of a glove) rather shocking and exciting.

Of course, Little Women hinges on the relationship between the sisters and Marmee. As in every family, there is jealousy and favouritism (Meg and Amy together, Jo and Beth together), but mostly their is camaraderie and love. There is no real mention of outside female friends, which leads the reader to the conclusion that the sisters really just have each other and Marmee to rely on and learn from. But, of course, there is also Laurie, their handsome scamp and kindred spirit from next door.

Laurie's name is actually Theodore Laurence. He lives with his grandfather and is tutored by Mr. Brooke so that one day he can take on the family business. Laurie, like Jo, has a great imagination and as an implied only child, he delights in the company of Meg, Jo, Beth and Amy. After gaining entry to the sisters' secret world of games and society, Laurie quickly becomes a focal point. His grandfather helps out when Beth falls ill, he creates some romantic tension, but mostly he is a wonderful friend, in on all the jokes and rather desperately in love with Jo. I must admit – and I'm sure I'm not alone here – that I had quite a crush on Laurie through most of the book, a feeling that would be inevitably dashed by the end, only to return with each subsequent read.

And that is the power of Alcott's story. She makes you believe that this time, for this one reread of the story, things will work out differently. Maybe this time you'll find out what would have happened if Jo had married Laurie (although, secretly, I was always glad she ended up with an intellectual); maybe this time Beth won't die, I mean, she makes it through her first illness, right? Little Women is such a rich and textural story that Alcott gets you all caught up in the detail and carefully woven fabric of her characters' lives – really, you don't stand a chance. Even though you know what will happen, you still hope it might not, or hold your breath until it does, squirming at the edge of your seat.

Little Women was originally published in two parts: Little Women and Good Wives, but most versions are sold as a combined story under the better-known title. Together, the story carries you from youth into adulthood. The March sisters grown and change, but don't let go of their childhood personalities completely. In many ways, Alcott's characters are real people in their habits and styles, and by allowing them to grow into, rather than out of, themselves, they become more like friends or family than names on a page – perfect for visiting on a cold and snowy day.

Little Women
by Louisa May Alcott
First published in two parts in 1868 and 1869 (cover image shown from Signet Classics edition)

My Bookshelf, 2010 edition

I'm not sure how I managed it, but somehow in 2010 I worked my way through thirty-four books. To be fair, some of these titles were lighter than others, but still, I think that's a pretty good number. I'm not really someone who goes for those year-long reading challenges (a book per day or a book per week, etc.) because I expect it would make me a less attentive reader, more concerned with the number of pages left than the page I'm reading. 

Anyhow, here's what I read last year (excluding, of course, magazines and newspapers). Of the thirty-four titles on the list: 11 are rereads, 8 are non-fiction, 2 are poetry, 23 are novels, and 12 are Canadian. Clearly, I need to improve my poetry and short-fiction reading in 2011. All in all, though, those numbers indicate a reasonably balanced bookshelf.

Just like the last time I did this, the stars indicate rereads – can you believe that until this year I'd never read a novel by Margaret Atwood or Kurt Vonnegut? Consider those holes filled.

What I read in 2010:

Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West by Gregory Maguire*

Abel’s Island by William Steig*

American Ground: Unbuilding the World Trade Center by William Langewiesche

Oryx and Crake by Margaret Atwood

The Golden Spruce: A True Story of Myth, Madness and Greed by John Vaillant

How Soccer Explains the World: An [unlikely] theory of globalization by Franklin Foer

The Writing Life by Annie Dillard

The Adventuress by Audrey Niffenegger

The Golden Mean by Annabel Lyon

Timequake by Kurt Vonnegut

Three Day Road by Joseph Boyden*

The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society by Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows

The Boy in the Moon: A father’s search for his disabled son by Ian Brown

Mister Pip by Lloyd Jones

Fiasco by Stanislaw Lem

The Dog Who Wouldn't Be by Farley Mowat*

The Golden Compass by Philip Pullman*

The Subtle Knife by Philip Pullman

The Amber Spyglass by Philip Pullman

Summer Sisters by Judy Bloom*

Imperium by Ryszard Kapuscinski

The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald*

The Sword in the Stone by T.H. White*

The Princess Bride by William Goldman*

The Magician’s Nephew by C.S. Lewis*

Bloom by Michael Lista

The Orchid Thief by Susan Orlean

The Imperfectionists by Tom Rachman

The Year of the Flood by Margaret Atwood

Pitouie by Derek Winkler

Annabel by Kathleen Winter

February by Lisa Moore

The Best Christmas Pageant Ever by Barbara Robinson*

By Grand Central Station I Sat Down and Wept by Elizabeth Smart

This year, I'm looking forward to lots of new reading (and some rereading as well). At the top of my list are:

The Sentimentalists by Johanna Skibsrud

Storyteller: The authorized biography of Roald Dahl by Donald Sturrock

Hocus Pocus by Kurt Vonnegut

Come, Thou Tortoise by Jessica Grant

Tiger by John Vaillant

Here's to another great year of reading!

Canada Keeps Reading

Last week, CBC's Canada Reads announced the finalists for this year's literary showdown, to take place in the February. In previous years, CBC has announced the panelists and they in turn have announced the Canadian novel they wish to champion.

But, for the 10th anniversary, CBC decided to spice things up. They had booksellers and writers and critics assemble a longlist that was then voted on by the public. This led to a shortlist of 10 books, from which this year's panelists would choose they novel they wanted to defend. Problems with this method have been pointed out, but nonetheless, this year's top-5 (supposedly the top-5 novels of the decade, although I'm not so sure about that) are a more interesting assortment than last year's.

So, here are the five novels that will be debated on this year's Canada Reads, along with their defenders:

The Birth House by Ami McKay - defended by Debbie Travis 
The Best Laid Plans by Terri Fallis - defended by Ali Velshi
The Bone Cage by Angie Abdou - defended by Georges Laraque
Essex County by Jeff Lemire - defended by Sara Quin 
Unless by Carol Shields - defended by Lorne Cardinal 

But, if you're looking for something a little more off the beaten track, Pickle Me This has posted her panelists (and their picks) for the 2011 Canada Reads Indies:

Play the Monster Blind by Lynn Coady - championed by Sheree Fitch
Truth & Bright Water by Thomas King - championed by Nathalie Foy
Still Life With June by Darren Greer - championed by Chad Pelley
Home Truths by Mavis Gallant - championed by Carrie Snyder
Be Good by Stacey May Fowles - championed by Robert J. Wiersema

Now, if The Afterword would just announce its picks for Canada Also Reads (and I'm hoping and assuming there will be another round this year) the season of the literary cage match would be all set to get going.

Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Writing by Derek Winkler

Hi there. My name's Derek and I've just published a novel called Pitouie. You can read all about it over at The Workhorsery. I'm getting the plug out of the way first because the rest of this post will have absolutely nothing to do with Pitouie. The rest of this post will be about motorcycles.

"It's a picture of my grandfather on his bike," Derek Winkler wrote when he e-mailed
the photo. "These machines, they get in the blood."

I got my motorcycle license when I was 17. When I was 19 I became an English major. It seemed obvious that I should write a book about about motorcycles. The resulting work was a magic realist road trip novel so irredeemably awful that innocent persons might be driven to madness by just by reading it. I keep the single extant copy on an Amiga floppy disk under lock and key.

Summer Reading

It's true that newspapers and magazines and publishers have been releasing "summer reading" lists since the beginning of May, but I prefer to hold off until summer has actually arrived. According to the calendar, that happened last week and since July 1st is just around the corner, I think it's safe to declare the season of summer reading open.

For me, summertime reading is about picking up forgotten books from around the house – books I've been meaning to read, books I stumble upon when rearranging and want to read again and, of course, those books that have achieved annual read status. Summer reading is also about books found at yardsales, picked up in borrowed or rented cottages and/or swapped with friends. In short, despite what most publications would have you believe, I am convinced that summer belongs to the well-loved and battered books, not the new blockbuster bestsellers.

So, what will I be reading? Here's my realistic list (that is, books I have and can read in the space of two months):
The Princess Bride by William Goldman – This has been an annual read for a long time now; I don't see that changing any time soon.     
Summer Sisters by Judy Bloom – It's been a few years since I read this and I'm ready to dig it out again.     
Labyrinths by Jorge Luis Borges – A birthday gift; I do love short fiction.     
Imperium by Ryszard Kapuscinski – Some journalistic non-fiction for good measure.     
Bloom by Michael Lista – Summer is a great time for poetry, because you can read it at a leisurely pace.
I figure a book every two weeks is an achievable goal. Generally, though, I read faster than that, so if I get a chance, I'll read some of the other books on my to-read list, which never seems to get any shorter.

Now, besides what's on my little list, I would recommend the following as great holiday/beach/cottage/hammock reads:
The Boy in the Moon by Ian Brown – Engaging and award-winning.     
Mister Pip by Lloyd Jones – Be prepared to pick this up and not be able to put it back down.
Lives of Girls and Women by Alice Munro – It's a short-story novel and it's a classic of CanLit for a reason.     
Three Day Road by Joseph Boyden – Gripping stories deserve the space and time afforded by long summer weekends.     
Not Wanted on the Voyage by Timothy Findlay – Dramatic and suspenseful, it's brings a little weight to the sometimes too light/sweet summer fare.      
The Clan of the Cave Bear by Jean M. Auel – It's a little smutty, but that's well balanced by the engrossing story well-imagined pre-historic setting.

For other, perhaps more contemporary, summer reading lists, check out The Walrus, NPR, Salon, The Globe and Mail, The Gazette and The New York Times. 

Image shown a photo of books at a yardsale, on sale for $1 a piece.

Happy Birthday, Scout

That's right, this is the season of Jean Louise 'Scout' Finch's 50th birthday. Of course, because it's the anniversary of To Kill a Mockingbird, it's also the 50th birthday of all the novel's characters, including Atticus Finch, Jem, Dill, Boo Radley, Calpurnia and the Ewells, just to name a few.

In some ways, it's hard to believe that Harper Lee's classic has been around for half a century. In a lot of other ways, it's hard to believe that its only 50 years old. I've written about To Kill a Mockingbird before, so I won't go into the plot points again. It is one of my most-read books though. I can't remember how old I was the first time I read it, but I think it must have been either grade 5 or grade 6. By the time I was reading it under my desk (instead of paying attention in class) in grade 8, my copy was already well-worn. When we studied it in class the following year, I was the only one in the room who had already read it.

To Kill a Mockingbird is one of the most challenged books in North America, and I would like to think that celebrating its 50th anniversary - and recognizing why it has remained a relevant story for so long - will change that. It won't, I'm sure, and the thought of kids growing up without the novel makes me very sad indeed. That being said, I had been reading it for years before I ever studied it in class, so perhaps I needn't worry.

Happy Birthday To Kill a Mockingbird, you wear your age well.

Image shown the cover image of the Lippincott edition of To Kill a Mockingbird.

Why YA novels matter

I have a complicated relationship with Young Adult novels. When I was the right age to read them (they're usually aimed at kids from age 12 to age 15) I resented them; I wanted to be reading books that you could buy in the rest of the store. Like most of the characters portrayed in the stories I secretly enjoyed, I was angsty about being lumped in with the kids' section at the back of the bookstore.

Now, though, I look back at those books with a great deal of fondness. By and large, YA novels are well written and, rather than talking down to the reader, treat them like the grown-up (or at least older teenager) they so want to be. Among my favourite YA authors are Canadian Janet Lunn and the delightful Roald Dahl, although I certainly read widely. I also went through a period where I read a lot of stories about WWII for some reason. Generally, I was pretty into historical fiction, which is abundant in YA novels.

I could reminisce forever about the books I loved back then, but Lizzie Skurnick does that really well already. Also, over at Persnickety Snark (a blog dedicated to reviewing YA novels), they are putting together a list of the top-100 YA books and have started a poll that lets you vote for your top-10 YA titles. I am not a big book list person (unless you count this blog as a protracted exercise at listing), but I do like voting for things, especially when to vote I get to write in my own choices instead of working with what's already there.

So, in a fit of nostalgia, here are my choices. They might not all technically be YA, but they were the books I read when I was that age*, so I'm counting them anyway (this list is presented in no particular order):

Shadow in Hawthorn Bay by Janet Lunn

Little Women by Louisa May Alcott

Danny, the Champion of the World by Roald Dahl

The True Confessions of Charlotte Doyle by Avi

The Witch of Blackbird Pond by Elizabeth George Speare

Julie of the Wolves by Jean Craighead George

Hatchet by Gary Paulson

Bridge to Terabithia by Katherine Paterson

Ballet Shoes by Noel Streatfield

Number the Stars by Lois Lowry

*I should just say that these were my favourite YA books when I was in the YA age group. That was before I read The Golden Compass or any of the Harry Potter books, which would otherwise make the list.

Image shown is the cover of Katherine Paterson's Bridge to Terabithia (Harper Trophy edition).

Nancy Drew turns 80

It's hard to believe, but girl detective Nancy Drew turns 80 today.

Created in 1930 by Edward Stratemeyer, Nancy Drew was ghostwritten by several authors under the name Carolyn Keene (who also turns 80 today, I guess). She has solved over 175 mysteries and provided countless life-lessons to girls (and boys) all over the world. I can't remember which one I read first, but I spent many years obsessively reading about the adventures of Nancy and her two best friends, George and Bess.

Going back now, the books are definitely dated (and pretty formulaic). But there's something about those old yellow hardcovers that reminds me of what it was like to be 10 and not quite sure how Nancy was going to get herself out of whatever trouble she was in. But she always did, often with the help of her friends or her father, and she always figured out the mystery. And for all the stereotypes of class and race that were often present in the novels, Nancy was a smart girl who was revered, not ridiculed, for her intelligence.

So, happy birthday to my first fictional role model. Thanks for years of adventures and convincing me, for a brief period of time, that I too wanted to be a detective when I grew up.

Cover image shown from The Secret of the Old Clock, the first of the books published in the original series in 1930 by Grosset & Dunlap.

Spring Reads

I know spring officially started several weeks ago, but it hasn't really felt like spring until now. The buds are all bursting, making streets glow with that early-leaf green, roadwork as started up again, sunny days are almost more prevalent than rainy ones and temperatures are staying more-or-less above 10 degrees Celsius. Those are all the normal signs of spring. For me though, I always know it's officially here because just as my work is ramping up with the weather, I realizing I'm starving for a good read. And even though I don't really have the time, I start gobbling up books left and right.

Spring reading is different than summer reading, though. In the summer - so the theory goes - we read a lot, but the books we read are generally lighter. Summertime comes with a different routine, and reading a book we don't mind putting down, or spilling something on, or filling with sand, goes along nicely with that more laid-back lifestyle. Spring reading, on the other hand, seems to grab me and push me into overdrive. If I'm not reading a book a week as well as working, I feel like I'm not taking advantage of whatever it is spring is giving me (increased daylight, the ability to read outside without a sweater, I don't know).

Although it will be a little while before my work wraps up and I'm able to unpack and prioritize all the books I want to read this season, I am giving myself some leeway. After all, reading is ultimately beneficial and should be indulged like any craving. Otherwise, I'll just keep looking fondly over at my book, thinking about where I left off instead of the task at hand, which is the least productive use of my time.

For some spring-reading suggestions (much more useful than suggestions of the cleaning variety) check out the archives of this blog, the National Post's "Spring Books Quarterly" and "The Walrus Reads."

Image shown from the cover of the National Post's "Spring Books Quarterly" (illustrated by Pascal Blanchet).

Toronto's First Free Bookstore

April is quite the embarrassment of riches for book lovers in Toronto. Not only is it National Poetry Month, but it's also the Keep Toronto Reading Festival.

Clearly, just as every month should theoretically be a poetry month, every month should celebrate literature and literacy. But, since that doesn't happen, it's great that the Toronto Public Library took the initiative to place importance on a love of reading. There are all sorts of great events planned (including a book swap and many, many readings) which are not only a great excuse to get out and enjoy books but also to just get outside, since the weather is so nice these days.

But when Toronto isn't openly celebrating literature and the library goes back to its usual function (which, it must be said, is still very valuable), there is one amazing institution that continues to encourage a love of books: The Children's Book Bank. The Book Bank is an amazing place for children and parents alike. It encourages not only literacy but an ownership of literature, thereby promoting a life-long love of reading that comes most freely from knowing that you can keep your favourite book with you forever, reading it as often as you like.

The Book Bank doesn't replace a library; rather, it works with the library system to allow children from all backgrounds to engage with literature in a way that excites them. I interviewed Kim Beatty, who started the Book Bank, and a seven-year-old customer, and they both had far more to say than could be included here:

The Book Bank accepts donations of gently used books. To donate, visit the Book Bank at 350 Berkeley St. (at Gerrard Street).

Turning over a new leaf

It always annoys me when end-of-year lists come out before the year is over. It's as if nothing that happens from December 12-on counts because lists that sum up the year have to be made early. Because I hate that (and think things that happen at the end of December still count) I waited until 2009 was officially over to tally my bookshelf.

In more or less chronological order, here is what I read in 2009 (excluding the four or five books I read for school). I put stars next to rereads, but I'm not sure I read a bad book last year, so all these titles are recommendation-worthy.

The Paperback Book – Rick Mercer

Eucalyptus – Murray Bail *

Eats, Shoots & Leaves - Lynn Truss *

Through Black Spruce – Joseph Boyden

The Pages – Murray Bail

Things I Talk About When I Talk About Running – Haruki Murakami

The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle – Haruki Murakami

Autobiography of Red – Anne Carson

Hooked – Carolyn Smart

Lullabies for Little Criminals – Heather O’Neil

The Far Pavilions – M.M. Kaye *

Kafka on the Shore – Haruki Murakami

Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince – J.K. Rowling *

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows – J.K. Rowling *

Lives of Girls and Women – Alice Munro

Reading Lolita in Tehran – Azar Nafisi

A Town Like Alice – Nevil Shute *

The Great Gatsby – F. Scott Fitzgerald

A Wild Sheep Chase – Haruki Murakami

Looking at it now, it seems like not that many titles. In some cases, that's because I got really attached to certain characters and didn't want to let them go, so I read more slowly to draw them out. It was a busy year but, for the most part, I managed to read what I wanted to read, which leaves 2010 open for all sorts of new titles (some of which Santa has already delivered).

I have stacks of books to read, really, but here are the top-five titles on the pile:

The Golden Mean - Annabel Lyon

The Year of the Flood - Margaret Atwood (also Oryx and Crake, they're sort of a pair)

Too Much Happiness - Alice Munro

Sweetness in the Belly - Camilla Gibb

The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society - Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows

Oh, I am excited!

When a book changes your life

This must be radio week on Books Under Skin. A friend told me about the Chicago Public Radio show This American Life, hosted by Ira Glass, which puts out a weekly podcast. And on this week’s podcast, Glass presents four people whose lives were changed by books.

“You don’t meet many people who tell you that a book changed their lives,” Glass says. “It’s an appealing notion I think, because it’s nice to think that our lives could be changed. Just by an idea, by the vision of the world that happens in a book, instead of what our lives are often changed by, you know, dumb luck, tragedies, coincidences.”

The one-hour podcast covers playwright and Hollywood producer Alexa Junge and her love for Moss Hart’s autobiography Act One, author David Sedaris’ encounter with a smutty novel, the unlikely obsession of a construction worker named Roger with all-books Louis and Clark, and writer Megan Daum’s love of Laura Ingalls Wilder and the Little House books.

The podcast covers so many lovely things about books and their ability to really change the way you think about certain things, whether the broad ideas (such as life or love) or more specific things (such as as historical event, your parents, yourself, or something else entirely).

Interestingly enough, though, each of the people interviewed for the show ended reading and rereading the books that changed their lives; one read just wasn’t enough for any of them, which makes me wonder if the first encounter just isn't enough for a book to really take hold of you.

Alexa Junge explains the force that drove her to reread Act One obsessively as a feeling of comfort, and really, camaraderie.

“It felt like I was recognizing an old friend. It felt like a familiarity of ‘Oh, I found a home. This guy wants the same home like I want’.”

And in a lot of ways that sums up why I reread books as often as I do: there is a sense of going home, of returning to old friends to relive old memories. And if a book does indeed change your life, for better or worse, returning to it over and over again just makes sense.

To listen to the This American Life podcast, click here.

On rereading

Confession: I have never actually read any of Maya Angelou's novels or autobiographies. I have read some of her poetry and it has always impressed me. But for some reason, I have never managed to get to her longer works. However, she is a formidable figure in contemporary literature, so when I came across this interview she did with George Plimpton (an American journalist, writer and editor) I was interested to see what she had to say about her writing. When I got to the part where she talked about why she reread books and how she hopes her readers reread her books, well, I got a little excited.

Maya Angelou is an excellent speaker, and she is able to articulate the reasons for rereading in much more succinct way than I am. Although I think people reread books for all sorts of reasons, the rewards for doing so are nicely put here, making this a nice addition to the dialogue of why readers reread.

Interviewer: So you don't keep a particular audience in mind when you sit down in that hotel room and begin to compose or write. It's yourself.

Angelou: It's myself ... and my reader. I would be a liar, a hypocrite, or a fool--and I'm not any of those--to say that I don't write for a reader. I do. But for the reader who hears, who really will work at it, going behind what I seem to say. So I write for myself and that reader who will pay the dues. There's a phrase in West Africa, in Ghana; it's called "deep talk." For instance, there's a saying: "The trouble for the thief is not how to steal the chief's bugle, but where to blow it." Now, on the face of it, one understands that. But when you really think about it, it takes you deeper. In West Africa they call it "deep talk." I'd like to think I write "deep talk." When you read me, you should be able to say "Gosh, that's pretty. That's lovely. That's nice. Maybe there's something else? Better read it again." Years ago I read a man named Machado de Assis who wrote a book called Dom Casmro: Epitaph of a Small Winner. Machado de Assis is a South African writer--black mother, Portuguese father--writing in 1865, say. I thought the book was very nice. Then I went back and read the book and said, "Hmm. I didn't realize all that was in that book." Then I read it again, and again, and I came to the conclusion that what Machado de Assis had done for me was almost a trick: he had beckoned me onto the beach to watch a sunset. And I had watched the sunset with pleasure. When I turned around to come back in I found that the tide had come in over my head. That's when I decided to write. I would write so that the reader says, "That's so nice. Oh boy, that's pretty. Let me read that again." I think that's why Caged Bird is in its twenty-first printing in hardcover and its twenty-ninth printing in paper. All my books are still in print, in hardback as well as paper, because people go back and say, "Let me read that. Did she really say that?"

(Interview excerpt taken from: George Plimpton (ed.), "Maya Angelou," Writers at Work, The Paris Review Interviews (New York: Viking, 1992) copywrite 1990 by The Paris Review.)