If left to its own devices, paper will breed and multiply - especially if you stash it in an out of the way place where it is easily forgotten. Only when, in its abundancy, it spills out into plain sight, usually aided by the cat, it becomes necessary to cull and (usually) void. In my case, the majority of this particular fecundity consists of mutual fund prospecti and 401k statements that I just can't bring myself to look at. Into the void with them!
It was during one of these undertakings that I came upon a chain letter that a coworker had passed to me. Specifically, it was a chain bookclub, where you mail a book to the address on your letter and forward the chain letter with your address on to 6 other people who, if everyone does as they should, will all forward books to you.
I had completely forgotten to send my letters and truth be known, I wasn't sorry about that. For peoples' book preferences, like perfume, tend to be very personal. And it's good to know a little bit about the person who is to receive your book. I had agreed to participate in the chain out of sudden impulse, but once I'd thought it over, I realized that I was potentially setting myself up for getting a stack of mainstream paperback pulp.
Then another unsettling thought came to mind: What on earth would I relinquish to a complete stranger? Of course I could send something I didn't like, but I don't keep what I don't like.
Books are mostly what is in my storage unit back in Houston. Those I brought to New York were those that I could not live without or had not read yet. Among those in the 'could not live without' category, are books that I knew I'd want to read again, books that were good references, and books whose very presence on my shelves were a comfort to me. These books are far more valuable to me than the words they contain; they are representations of where I was and what I was doing while I was reading them. They are tangible evidence of my own history.
I looked in vain on my bookshelf for something to relinquish. Finally, I decided to send Ian McEwan's Atonement, which I had recently read and which, while I did not hate it, I did not find it particularly impressive, despite the rave reviews.
But what a waste. I would be sending someone something I did not care for, something that I would have certainly disposed of in order to give precious limited shelf space to a more worthy volume. It dawned on me that others may be as silly about their books as I am about mine and we'd all send substandard books. Ugh.
And so the unsent letters went into the trash.
And here is a small sampling of my 'cannot live withouts:'
Alice's Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass, Lewis Carroll - I spent August of 1985 in England with my grandmother and her husband. I was a mopey 13 year old stuck spending a month with senior citizens who took me along on outings which were geared for senior citizens. The trip was not without its bright spots: it was my first trip overseas and I saw a lot of great sights. However, for the most part, my best friends were my Walkman and the books I picked up at a charming little book shop in Twickenham that carried a great deal of Penguin paperbacks. My copy of Alice is battered and the pages are yellow. On the inside of the cover is the legible schoolgirl version of my signature.
All the Little Live Things, Wallace Stegner - Required reading in my contemporary literature class at UH. It takes place in the 60s in a California enclave where new neighbors -- an idealistic young woman and her husband and a hippie teenager and his merry band challenge the status quo views of an older resident. The work is probably the most accurate portrayal of the generation clashes of the 60s I've ever read. As a 22 year old, it struck a chord.
Lipstick Traces: A Secret History of the Twentieth Century, Greil Marcus - I borrowed a copy of this from Mike Switzer in 1995. It's not a quick read, and it was a six month effort to finish it, but it was time well spent. It begins with the Sex Pistols and traces the history of the art of anarchy and chaos. Shortly after reading it, I learned of Guy Debord's suicide in the French newpaper, Le Monde. I was taking a course in modern French culture at the time and decided to use the article for an in class presentation, which was to be a big part of the final grade. I worked unusually hard on the assignment; indeed I remember wearing my very best poet blouse and going over my index cards in the car before class.
The Encyclopedia of Bad Taste, Jane and Michael Stein - Long before Road Food, the Sterns put together an incredibly entertaining lowbrow pop culture work containing entries on the likes of Hawaiian shirts, motor homes and camper/trailers, meat snack foods, professional wrestling, and Tammy Faye Bakker. My first post college job was at Borders, and one of the only perks of my minimum wage existence was the generous discount on merchandise. I smoked a lot of weed in those days, ate a lot of tabouli and lentils (being poor), and spent lots of time in the john laughing as I read this book.
The Treasure of the Sierra Madre, B. Traven - All about greed. While this tale does not warm the heart by any stretch, it came to me along with some wonderful lemon tea in a care package from Ramon when I'd just moved to New York. I was lonely and poor, living in a dingy room in the boring Upper East Side and care packages from dear friends seriously kept me going. And the greed motif of the book was appropriate - I worked for an investment bank.
The Indian Clerk, David Leavitt - I love a hefty historical fiction when its well researched and well written. The characters in this novel are real -- G.H. Hardy, British mathematican and Ramanujan, Indian protege -- and the story is about the relationship of these men in the onset of World War I. It's touching without being sappy and it's laugh out loud funny in parts. I bought this book for airplane reading when I went to Singapore for work back in October. It was a wonderful way to relax after some very punishing work days and it has lingered in my thoughts. This one I'll definitely return to.
