One of my healthier antidotes to life’s Too Much-ness is burrowing inside the covers of a good book. Preferably while also tucked tight into my bed covers at day’s end, hot cup of tea at hand, until I can’t keep my eyes open. Just one more page, just one more, just one, just…
Recently, however, I’ve noticed a few oddities:
I’m returning too many partially-read books to the library;
I’m feeling more-than-less stressed as I read;
I’m not diving under the covers with a book at night.
I took another look at my To-Read’s and noticed something else: no fiction.
I have books on the teenage brain and sleep disorders, language and love, spirituality, and cookbooks. I have two (count ’em, two) books, pulled on different days from different shelves and both partially read, on the topic of solitude – apparently I’m feeling a little crowded these days, in more ways than one!
All fascinating studies and good reads, I’m sure, but these days I have way too many words populating my brain. I need a literary escape.
I need peace. No kidding: one afternoon as I read a chapter from The Teenage Brain, I watched Guy and Teen play out an illustration before my eyes. I could have been reading aloud while they acted out the scene. I looked back and forth between book and boys and dropped book like a nasty bug. Interesting, yes, but too close to home in an emotionally-exposed way. I look forward to reading it eventually, when I’m feeling less… Just less.
I need beauty. My “word” for 2015: Put yourself in the way of beauty. I have dropped more than one book this year because it didn’t add beauty to my life – good writing, good story mandatory.
I need a book that contributes Inward Peace to balance Life Chaos, not sleepy-zen but peaceful beauty. I want to be whisked away to new adventures in new lands, new (or old) times. Anyone want to offer a recommendation? Better yet, anyone want to dash a quick-fix fiction loaner by my doorstep?
Here are a few recent books I’ve enjoyed:
Twelve-year-old Laguna Beach girl Mia can’t wait to spend the summer at the beach with her best friend Montana and her crush, HIM. She is also Mai, Vietnamese girl, good daughter, Straight-A student, studying SAT vocabulary at Mom-Insistence. So instead of the beach, her parents ship her off to Vietnam as her grandmother’s chaperone so Ba can search for answers to the end of her husband’s life during The War. What begins as an almost prison-like sentence becomes a journey of listening, of reconciling with her heritage, of falling in love with the past, broken as it is.
I read this book aloud with my Tween and we related it to our cross-cultural experience spending a summer in Costa Rica: humidity, odd creatures, jungle, foreign food and language. And we related, too, to the experience of falling in love with a completely different way of life set in a different place.
As a reader, I am thoroughly impressed with Lai’s ability to capture a SoCal girl’s speech and culture and so gracefully walk with her through this amazing cross-cultural journey.
A few chapters in to The Rosie Project I learned it had a sequel, which I immediately put on hold at the library. Fortunately, The Rosie Effect came up on my queue just days after finishing The Rosie Project. Despite having a stack of To-Read books, it took priority.
My first response: this book contained too much stress, whereas the first had been an odd fairy tale. And yet, isn’t that just like life? What starts with wine and roses, or for Don and Rosie, jackets and balconies and so many misunderstandings, eventually has to work through some strife. Honeymoons end and the hard work of marriage begins, complicated in this case by an international move and an unintentional pregnancy.
Before I realized, I was halfway done. Today I am all done, and I’m mourning the end of this fun read. I sure hope there’s a Book 3 in the works.
An incredible true story of a young woman’s descent into madness. That Susannah Cahalan is alive and able to write a book is nothing short of a miracle – right place, time and doctors on the case. Cahalan weaves her own story along with the science to explain what was happening as she lost control of her body and her mind. Occasionally a little too smart, the science provides a counterpoint to a story that sounds unbelievable, like something out of a horror movie (The Exorcist, in fact, as so many of her symptoms were identical to the demon-possessed little girl). And yet it is a story of hope, as Cahalan’s story has provided answers to so many desperate patients and their families.