Cheryl Truman on books

The thing about cancer is that it focuses you. Slights you thought you cared about, side battles you thought you’d fight, grudges you’d never admit you were nursing - they all fall away, withered and blackened, within moments after you first hear the words.

I have breast cancer. And now all I think about is my 18-year-old daughter and 20-year-old son. I am their only parent.

I want to see them graduate. I want to be at their weddings. I want to be around to see my grandchildren.

And really, that’s all I want.

This is a roundabout way of telling you I’ll be gone for a while. I’m having a double mastectomy on Monday, with the beginnings of reconstructive surgery. The reconstructive part of the equation depends on how my lymph nodes look. If they’re clear, I’m good; if they’re not, my troubles might be bigger, and more medically complicated, than whether those saline implants get planted.

I would like to say I took the news well that I had invasive breast cancer. I did not. I cried as if tear ducts were on sale at Wal-Mart.

And for days afterward, I had to restrain myself from grabbing every woman I met and insisting that she get an immediate mammogram.

There are books on my desk stacked to take with me during my leave of absence: Wendell Berry’s environmental parable Whitefoot: A Story From the Center of the World, which has just been published; a galley of Jim Tomlinson’s new collection of stories, Nothing Like an Ocean, which will go on sale in March. D. Kay Clawson, president of the Henry Clay Memorial Foundation, recently sent me Madeline L’Engle’s A Season of Quiet, and it’s on the top of the bedside book stack.

I also plan to plow my way through Anthony Trollope, whom one of my readers recommended back in the fall when I was having a reading slump. Trollope has been a godsend, and now I understand why Trollope’s sales spike during hard times, both economic and medical. Even though Trollope could benefit from a short, sharp slap of feminism, there is something marvelously comforting about his writing. Trollope’s world has a structure, actions make sense, people talk sensibly, and those who are kind and just when nobody’s looking eventually wind up with something like grace. Trollope admits that most people are neither all good nor all evil. We have mixed motivations. We’re good, we’re evil, we walk into tricky situations over trivialities, we get sick, we try harder.

Trollope is a crisp writer for confusing times. He’ll be a fine companion for those days when I can’t lift my arms.
In 2007, I wrote about Kentucky writer David Dick, who has lived for years with prostate cancer. In his book, A Journal for Lalie: Living Through Prostate Cancer, he wrote: “I feel good, ready to go on living one more day as fully, as richly as I know how.”

I understood that sentence on an intellectual level back then, but now I feel it right down to my bones.

Former Herald-Leader editor Marilyn Thompson, herself a breast cancer survivor, told me the hardest part of recovery is letting people help you. Me, I don’t know how to stop slinging around the vacuum. I would live on saltines and Diet Pepsi for weeks rather than let anyone think I need a home-baked casserole. Letting others do for me, it’s a humbling thought.

After the initial shock of the diagnosis, when all you can think of is being a very pure person and what people might say about you at the funeral, I found that it was OK to be myself again.

There’s a probably apocryphal story about how Bette Davis trashed Joan Crawford after Crawford shuffled off this mortal coil. Called out for speaking ill of the departed, Davis is said to have replied, “Just because she’s dead doesn’t mean that she’s changed.”

So although I’ve had a shock, and some priorities are forever altered, it’s not as if I’ve had a personality transplant. I hope to soon be well enough to complain in an entertaining and incendiary manner.

There’s one other liberating thing about cancer: You can give up pretending that you’re smarter than you are.

My house backs up to a horse farm. The day after my cancer diagnosis, I was sitting on the sofa, gazing out the window and really not doing squat, when suddenly a cluster of horses came flying along the back fence. All I could think was that it was so sweet. I’m sure there are better words, more sophisticated words, but at that moment I didn’t need them. It was sweet. And I was grateful to be there.

Joseph Hallinan’s new book Why We Make Mistakes: How We Look Without Seeing, Forget Things in Seconds and Are All Pretty Sure We Are Way Above Average (Broadway Books, $24.95) is making my week.

It’s not that it’s pop culture-lite and a little something to read after you’ve digested whatever Malcolm Gladwell is on about at the moment: It’s that I’m feeling particularly stupid, and this book confirms that I am in fact right, that I have lots of company, and that conversation isn’t really about exchanging accurate information, but making your case.

The book also dissects why we don’t know what we think we know — such as passwords — and aren’t able to do the things we think define our status — such as multitask.

I have passwords on, what, 12-15 accounts, and I can remember exactly 3 of them. And one of those is Netflix. My map skills are poor, but then I’m also geographically dyslexic (don’t make fun of this designation unless you’re one of us: it’s distinctly unfunny to not be able to find your way around neighborhoods and office buildings). But as Hallinan assures us, your geographic skills, you with the innate sense of direction and GPS, aren’t that much better: Use Hallinan’s example: Is Reno east ofSan Diego? Of course it is.

Except it’s not. And the reason we think so is because we tend to straighten map lines in our head, like that little division between Nevada and California: It’s a little like the human drive noted in last year’s The Black Swan to turn human experience into narrative. We work over the facts until they make sense to us, which is not always the same thing as getting them right.

Hallinan’s book assures us that we can’t really multitask, that we’re shallow and filter our interactions through what they meant to us rather than what really happened, and that men tend to overestimate their intelligence and attractiveness. (Insert your own joke and/or objection here.)

Notes Hallinan: “Men and women not only perceive some aspects of the world differently; they often perceive themselves differently. When it comes to making mistakes, for instance, women appear to be harder on themselves than men are. For example, studies have shown that men tend to forget their mistakes more readily than women do. And mistakes appear to dog women in ways that do not bother men. In interviews …. women indicate that situations involving failure affect their self-esteem more than do situations involving success; no such difference has been reported for men.”

Really, I’d like to end this with a witty snap to the testosterone corps out there. But, as Hallinan notes, my mistakes dog me.

And we see things based on such incidental factors as whether we’re right- or left-handed. Notes Hallinan:

“Years ago, after the Hale-Bopp comet made a spectacular apeparance in the evening skies, investigators in England asked left-and right-handers if they could remember which way the comet had been facing when they saw it. Right-handers were signifcantly more likely than lefties to remember that the comet had been facing to the left. Handedness is also the best predictor of a person’s directional preference. … As a result advised the authors of one study, ‘one should look to the left when searching for the shortest lines of people at stores, banks and the like.’”

There’s a point in Snark: It’s Mean, It’s Personal and It’s Ruining Our Conversation in which you begin to understand why Gawker.com has such a roaring good time taking apart David Denby.

“Ruining our conversation” does not mean, literally, our conversation. It’s Denby’s conversation with those who purchase books, and he’s holding up the losing end.

“At what point is spoof no longer naughty but just out of it?” Denby asks, the plaintive voice of entitlement in the intellectual wilderness, setting the futile bar for those who just want an LOLcat or two, who think that “O hai” may be, in fact, anarchic and witty discourse. This would be the Internet-savvy but not Denby-reverent, those who would like to take the acknowledgements page in which Denby yammers about his pan-Pacific dinner in Seattle, his Singing Fish Satay and Pow Wok Lamb and the deed to the intellectual property known as “snark” being handed to him, because he is just that good, and set it ablaze with a low-culture Bic lighter.

Let me save you the trouble of buying the book, lest you be tempted. Denby likes: Stephen Colbert when he’s not funny, Pauline Kael, Juvenal. Denby doesn’t like: Keith Olbermann, Perez Hilton, Mike Barnicle, Fox News, Wonkette.com. Alexander Pope seems to get a pass on meanness for being brillliant. Bashing Dick Cheney is not snark; they take away your liberal ID card if you don’t. Also: South Park, The Simpsons and Family Guy are not snark, “but somethng finer, or something crude and free, bold and happy — satire, spoof, lampoon, burlesque, all heaven-sent forms.” It’s a terrible thing, that day when Eric Cartman goes mainstream.

Denby comes across as one of Teh Olds who wish that the Internet was more deferential to those so richly enamored of themselves. Criticism is more than invective? Right you are, sir. Readers may come away thinking that if only Gawker.com felt for Mr. Denby an iota of the love he feels for himself, this book would not have been necessary.

Denby touches on a handful of points about Dah Evils of The Interwebs, none of them particularly original. Anonymous commenters can invent vile anonymous identities for themselves, say nasty things that live on forevermore in Google, and depart the field of battle, having soiled the ground but provided no light, defended no principle, forked over no money for a literary clip job priced at $15.95.. Bloggers do this kind of work at a deep discount, often for free.

And if not for asking readers to defend his honor by buying his book, Denby could have then moved on to trickier turf, like my new fav blogger Alexandra Penney.

Alexandra Penney’s The Bag Lady’s Papers on thedailybeast.com is my new Internet guilty pleasure. What this means is that I’ll read every episode, as long as it’s free, and snort a little at the screen — but if Bag Lady is a book pitch, it’s already remainder-bin.

Alexandra Penney made some money for writing ’80s-era sex books like How to Make Love to a Man. Most of us would have the grace to take that bit of lightning in a can, bank it and forever after live the kind of ascetic life that makes people forget that you wrote sex books.

If you’re deconstructing the divine Ms. Penney, please note that she modestly admits to still having white shirts from decades ago. Honey, just say it: You think you’re still exactly the same size as you were as a dainty co-ed. Gravity does not affect this AARP maiden! You are a goddess, except, of course, for the whole Madoff lost-your-life-savings thing. You have a “consort,’ whereas the rest of us have deadbeats who won’t buy a ring and set a date.

Ms. Penney decided to invest with Bernie Madoff and now, honey, she’s down to her last Florida cottage. But she’s got spunk! Also, apparently a trunkful a blowup sex dolls used in her “art,” which she is inexplicably ferrying down to Florida in the latest chapter of Bag Lady. In my mind’s eye, I see Alexandra’s “cottage” as being oh, a wee thing, smaller than maybe the 2,000 square feet in which you are raising a passle of muddy younguns, sprinkled with sunshine and decorated in something like the Scarves of Many Nations motif. Broke but not unaware of the finer things, Penney now divides her time between hectoring Domino’s pizza attendants for a better deal and making the brave obserrvation that people who eat at Popeye’s can be –oh, the horror! — fat.

She is still better reading company than David Denby.

Alexandra, I’ve been so moved by your plight that I’ve scoured my car: I’ve got a Chick-Fil-A biscuit coupon and a voucher for two White Castle hamburgers. Stop by one your way back up to the metropolis, and Trailer Brunch is on me. We’ll do Wal-Mart. Call me!

It is Christmas Eve, and I am cleaning off my desk, a task that should involve industrial equipment.

But here are some books for your attention, should you be blog-skipping this holiday season and not engaged in the festive pursuits of marathon Netflix-watching and seeing how many pounds of sugar you can slam in a single day.

Book I’m ashamed to like: The Daily Coyote: A Story of Love, Survival and Trust in the Wilds of Wyoming, by Shreve Stockton. Ever wanted a coyote for a pet? Me either. And yet I held onto this book for far longer than I had intended, because Charlie the Coyote has that oddish Marley look about him. You can follow Charlie at Stockton’s blog, http://dailycoyote.blogspot.com/

Book that is going in the bin right this instant: The latest by Controversial Inauguration pastor Rick Warren, he of The Purpose-Driven Life. This one is called The Purpose of Christmas, and I feel certain that I’d rather be forcibly planted in 27 consecutive Beth Moore Bible studies than read another sentence sequence like this one: “No matter what you do in life, some people aren’t going to like it. And the brighter the light, the more bugs it attracts. When The Purpose-Driven Life became well known, I became a target of mean-spirited critics who seemed to relish attacking and misrepresenting me.”

Sorry to be late to that party.

Book I wish had given more attention: Things That Make Us (Sic): The Society for the Promotion of Good Grammar Takes on Madison Avenue, Hollywood, The White House and the World by Martha Brockenbrough. Who doesn’t love a good lecture on semicolon use? “While we haven’t yet found direct evidence of punctuation being lifesaving, we have discovered that bad punctuation led to life in prison for a certain murderous New Jersey housewife who couldn’t hold her semicolons (unlike the Son of Sam, who the journalist Jimmy Breslin called ‘the first murderer anybody ever knew who could use a semicolon’).”

Special award for book that is surpasses every known definition of “vile”: Brocabulary by Daniel Maurer. If you put Rick Warren and Daniel Maurer in the same room, the moral climate of the United States would implode. This book doesn’t just define misogyny; it tries to make misogyny seem glamorous.

From Carole Lee:

“I just finished reading (for the second time) a delightful novella by Alan Bennett, The Uncommon Reader. What happens when the Queen develops a passion for reading?

I loved Losing Battles by Eudora Welty. When I finished reading it, I was saddened to leave the characters - I miss them.

My favorite book of all time is The Floatplane Notebooks by Clyde Edgerton. The “hook” came for me when an old vine growing beside the family cemetery begins to tell its story of what “really” happened. This book has everything - the South, lots of humor, knowing what a loved one needs. I had the opportunity to talk at length with Clyde Edgerton and he told me that this was his favorite novel also. He said his mother told him that she loved it except for the ——- part. I’ll leave that for you to discover. Needless to say, I don’t agree with his mother on that issue.

From Jenna Bobbitt:

“Suggestions for a book that might end your ‘reading drought’. ‘What could I possibly have read that a book editor and reviewer has not?’ was admittedly my first thought. However, after perusing my bookshelves and my memory, I offer the following suggestions.

Nobody’s Fool - Richard Russo
Before his recent bestsellers Empire Falls and Bridge of Sighs there was this wonderful story of Sully, his bad knee and even worse luck, his fractured family and the desire to fix things (literally and metaphorically). This story has moments that made me laugh out loud. I truly appreciated the characterizations and the descriptions of life in small town New York. Remembering Sully’s best friend Rub and his wife Bootsie still makes me laugh, 12 years after reading this novel.

Four Spirits - Sena Jeter Naslund
The issue of race in 1960’s Alabama and the indelible mark is leaves on the citizens of Birmingham. This book was hard to put down and got me through a nasty round of medical tests and treatment. This book was so wonderful that Ms Naslund shares equal credit with the doctors for saving my life.

Snow Falling on Cedars - David Guterson
A moving story and quite simply, some of the most heart-felt, evocative writing I’ve been privelaged to read. I read it one Thanksgiving weekend; it continues to hold a place in my mind as a cold weather read.

The Space Between Us - Thrity Umrigar
This was a book club selection. This novel details the lives of Sera (an upper middle class woman) and Bhima (her servant). The characters and details of India are richly drawn and the ways in which the diverse families are intertwined, speaks to the larger idea of loving your neighbors, even those who come from a different world.

A Fortune Teller Told Me - Tiziano Terzani
This book chronicles a year in the life of journalist Terzani, after being told by a fortune teller that the must not fly. It is a remarkable look into the small communities in Asia as well as an expose of the power and popularity of fortune-tellers, mystics and the like. The book also contains insights into Terzani’s search for self.

Color: A Natural History of the Palette - Victoria Finlay
Equal parts history and geography lessons, this book brings to light (no pun intended) the background of color; it’s origins, early uses and economic power (lapis). Finlay allows the reader insight to her extensive color-research and the people she meets on her journey. As a jewelry designer, this book provided a great deal of fuel for my creative fire; that is was entertaining was a happy plus.

When all else fails - I turn to poetry to kick-start my love of reading. Two favorites: The Poetry of Robert Frost and A Light in the Attic by Shel Silverstein. The latter is considered a children’s book but I’ve never encountered a bad day that wasn’t improved by reciting “Somebody Has To” or “Whatif”.

I hope this list provides some worthwhilte suggestions or allows you to remember books you have enjoyed in the past.”

We’re still breaking Cheryl’s book drought, here. Said drought commenced about a month ago when I got the death flu (get your flu shots!) and continued when my right knee tried to crumble, so all I can figure is: When your body commences to disintegrating, your mind goes other places. And in fact, with the bad knee, I discovered that there was an extra hour-and-a-half in the day, because I no longer spent so much time exercising. When you’ve exercised every day for two years, adding extra hours back into the mix makes the days seem extraordinarily long. But it was more time I was piddling around, seeing if I could guilt somebody else to empty the dishwasher and change the litter boxes.

It was not reading time, and never the kind of reading time when you are transported from the room, by a book.

So here: more kind reader suggestions on breaking the drought. And if you also have suggestions on a good vacuum to break the matted pet hair at my house so that I can once again lie on the carpet with a good book, chime on in there as well.

And, to the kind reader who suggests Ngaio Marsh, I’ve always meant to read Marsh — first alerted to her work by the late, and dearly missed, Common Reader book catalog. Any title suggestions?

From Gwen Hall:

“I too had the ‘book blahs’ until I read Spelling Love With An X by Clare Dunsford. Be prepared to laugh and cry. Bet this one won’t collect cat hair…you’ll have to pass it to a good friend, like I did.

Gwen Hall

From Jennie Hill:

As a former librarian I read a lot more than the average person. I am so tired that it seems every character in new books as been dealt either a father that is in jail, missing, or on drugs and the mothers have dumped the children or else is a prostitute or drunk. Can’t they have average families?

I enjoy reading mysteries but read a great variety of books, such as Amish, Christian, and plain romance.
I find myself going back to some of favorite authors instead of many of the new ones.

One of most recent reads that was above average was Riven, a Christian fiction, by Jerry B. Jenkins. You may enjoy reading it. A bit different.

Keep reading as we librarians say. . Whatever you need to know, there is a book out there that will help you find the answers.”

From Brenda Seiferth:

Slow Dancing on Dinosaur Bones by Lana Witt

About Grace by Anthony Doerr

or - re-read The Thorn Birds or re-read all the Silas House novels, such as Clay’s Quilt

From Janice Harris:
I read about a dozen books a month, and still keep finding good stuff I haven’t discovered before. Are you familiar with John Twelve Hawks? I bought his The Traveler at a used book sale and liked it so well I ordered the sequel, The Dark River. Now I have to wait for him to write the last book of the trilogy! It’s time travel fantasy, so I don’t know if that’s your thing.

I had not read any of Ngaio Marsh’s mysteries and just recently read Black as He’s Painted. I’ll be looking for more of her books.”

From Jenean McBrearty:

“If you’re being honest about book blahs, they are probably a sign:
1. you’re now a grown-up and ready to think for yourself;
2. you’ve been reading too much politically correct drivel; and
3. you need to change your genre;
4. you need to switch to history books.

May I suggest Darwin’s Black Box: The Biochemical Challenge to Evolution by Michael J. Behe. It’s probably the best scientific book I’ve read on the subject. The thesis is that the human body is comprised of systems that are irreducible complexities: eyesight, blood coagulation, etc. that could not have evolved. That is, every component, chemical, etc, had to be present at the same time in order for it to work. He then explains scientifically why this must be so, and demonstrates how the sweeping claims of the evolutionists never pierce the black box of
conjecture.

You might also want to delve into Collateral Damage: Americans, Noncombatant Immunity, and Atrocity After World War II by Sahr Conway-Lanz.I reviewed this book for Choice Magazine and it is by far the best I’ve read on the subjects. His thesis is that, eventually, America needs a military, and must make a choice between the enemy and our troops’ lives. Given the realities of the world geopolitically, the best we can do is minimize collateral damage because we cannot turn back the hands of time. His argument is persuasive.

And my book - Helmut Wolf is a short novel (one 1/2 hour reading time) about the dilemmas of terrorism.

…People who are intelligent soon tire of the pablum being pedaled today. Welcome to the club.”

More reader suggestions on breaking my brief aversion — not so much to reading itself, but to starting, hanging in and finishing a book. The Northern Clemency, however, is looking pretty good for a 608-page big ol’ read. I’m 60 pages in, which is usually the point of no return.

I’ve put two Anthony Trollopes and the new Kate Atkinson on my Amazon shopping list — but with which Trollope should I begin?

I also found that I had put City of Thieves on my wish list. I have no memory of this, but after reading Holly Bandoroff’s endorsement, I’m glad I did.

Help me out here, readers.

From Louise Parker:

” I feel your pain. There is nothing worse than having no book one is dying to read (if you are an omnivorous reader.) I have been on this earth and in the libraries a lot longer than you, and have sufferred fits of distaste at the new books available. At those times, I go back to the tried and true. Old books that I really enjoyed, that I read long ago, and can enjoy again, having forgotten a lot of the detail. I just reread the Delderfield saga. It is wonderful to be able to get all of the old books on Amazon. I am getting ready (when I finish Hot Flat and Crowded to reread Georgiana by Amanda Foreman. The recent movie Duchess was a superficial treatment of her life. I also went through the lists of books that people sent in last summer as their favorites. I can recommend To Kill A Mockingbird and For Whom the Bell Tolls if you haven’t read them lately. The way Hemingway grasps his reader is masterful. I had forgotten how engrossing he is. If you are having a dry period, don’t look among the new fiction. It is almost all drivel. Also, I tend to find books I really like at the new Morris Book Store. It is the book store of my childhood and young days. … If you want something light, the Phillipa Gregory Tudor books are quite entertaining, and I always learn things from them.
God bless you. We readers have to have something that we can turn to so that we can put our feet up after days of shopping and cooking for the holidays!”

From Holly Bandoroff:

“I, too, have been in a reading drought this fall, so much so that I just finished re-reading both Pillars of the Earth and World Without End ( how desperate is that?)

I have read a few wonderful books this year that you might consider.

The Book Thief by Markus Zusak (actually classified as a young adult book) This is a poignant tale about a young girl searching for love and normalcy in a foster family in Germany during WWII. It is cleverly narrated by Death.

The City of Thieves by David Benioff. A fabulous story of two mis-matched young men thrown together in search of 12 fresh eggs for a general’s daughter’s wedding during the siege of Leningrad. I loved this book!

Child 44 by Tom Rob Smith. A harrowing thriller about a serial killer of children in Stalinist Russia. The state refuses to admit there is a pattern to the crimes because of their company line that no one in their perfect society would be unhappy enough to commit these atrocities.

I also read a series of 3 historical fiction novels by Diana Norman. She is the real woman behind the nom de plume Arianna Franklin (The Mistress of the Art of Death). These novels followed a strong willed, and capable young woman during and after the American Revolution. (A Catch of Consequence, Chasing Liberty and Sparks Fly Upward)

From Steve Rhodes:

“I go through similar spells at least twice a year, and I don’t have your excuse of reading for a living. Yikes!

I have four books to recommend, two I’ll mention, and two that I’ll send you, snail mail.

Two I’ll mention:

The Story of Edgar Sawtelle by David Wroblewski (published by Ecco). I believe you have an affinity for dogs. This book involves dogs, but also a good dose if MacBeth. Beautifully written, nicely paced, great character development. A real surprise.

The Brief and Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao by Junot Diaz. in addition to following an unusual story line, Diaz taught me a great deal about the convoluted history of the Dominican Republic.

From Lexington lawyer Scott White:

I read your column and really empathized. I got in one of those funks last year, and jolted myself out by re-reading an old favorite (some would say a “guilty pleasure”, but I love well written stuff in the fantasy genre), Ursula LeGuin’s Earthsea Trilogy. But, I would also recommend Richard Price’s Lush Life that is just a stunning example of the well written and paced crime novel (in my view, it is legitimate literature . . . who says serious writing can’t be entertaining!). Another I’d toss at you is Zadie Smith’s On Beauty.

BUT, if you really want to jump start yourself with a pure FUN read that will get you howling let me suggest either John Toole’s Confederacy of Dunces (the funniest novel ever written), Trollope’s Barchester Towers, or any of John Irving’s early and oft overlooked novels (Setting Free the Bears [my fav], 158 Pound Marriage, & The Water Method Man).

From Cheryl:
You know, I had never heard of the Earthsea Trilogy, but Irving may be my all-time favorite author: I even read A Son of the Circus. Also: A specific Anthony Trollope selection, so now I have a place to start. And really, if enough people remind me of A Confederacy of Dunces, I may just have to go back and tip into that one again: I started re-reading it a few years back, became irritated that it wasn’t the genius I remembered, and quit. But I may have been simply cranky, and as I first remember Ignatius, he took a while to warm up to.

From Holly Bandoroff:

I, too, have been in a reading drought this fall, so much so that I just finished re-reading both Pillars of the Earth and World Without End ( how desperate is that?)

I have read a few wonderful books this year that you might consider.

The Book Thief by Markus Zusak (actually classified as a young adult book) This is a poignant tale about a young girl searching for love and normalcy in a foster family in Germany during WWII. It is cleverly narrated by Death.

The City of Thieves by David Benioff. A fabulous story of two mis-matched young men thrown together in search of 12 fresh eggs for a general’s daughter’s wedding during the siege of Leningrad. I loved this book!

Child 44 by Tom Rob Smith. A harrowing thriller about a serial killer of children in Stalinist Russia. The state refuses to admit there is a pattern to the crimes because of their company line that no one in their perfect society would be unhappy enough to commit these atrocities.

I also read a series of 3 historical fiction novels by Diana Norman. She is the real woman behind the nom de plume Arianna Franklin (The Mistress of the Art of Death). These novels followed a strong willed, and capable young woman during and after the American Revolution. (A Catch of Consequence, Chasing Liberty and Sparks Fly Upward)

Good luck finding that perfect winter read! If you have any suggestions….. I’m always looking for my next book!

From Cheryl:

Pillars of the Earth was the last book I remember as being truly transporting — transporting in the sense that you could be sitting on a couch full of dog and cat hair, dirty dishes lining the kitchen counter, tottering piles of laundry piled at random intervals through the house, and absolutely not care, because you were on board with that fictional cathedral and those neighborhood political dramas, and whether your favorite characters might starve (which so rarely comes up, these days). A friend recently observed that while reading The Pillars of the Earth, her husband cared for little else.

Sadly, I never got to the third chapter of World Without End. Perhaps it’s time to give that book another chance.

This comes from someone who wants to remain anonymous, and while I wouldn’t normally publish, even in blog form, the work of an anonymous contributor, I have to say: Kate Atkinson, people! At one time it was my cherished small ambition to bring her to Lexington. This contributor, at least, would have come to that event.

And about Anthony Trollope: Anyone out there got an Anthony Trollope title with which to start?

From ‘Anonymous’:

I work on the circulation desk of a public library and, like you, I frequently suffer from book overload. New books come in every day, some trash reads, some with appealing covers and exciting reviews. Patrons frequently recommend books they enjoyed (“You simply MUST read this. I couldn’t put it down.”) I usually have five or six books out at once, one on CD in the car, and one in my locker for lunch reading. Nine times out of ten I am disappointed. It sounds snobbish, but I almost never read anything on best seller lists. They seem to appeal to readers with a high tolerance for poor writing, overblown, hackneyed plots and pages of supposedly snappy dialog. Not to mention the sex, violence, and foul language. I can almost hear an editor telling the author to “spice it up so it’ll sell.”

My latest discovery is British author, Kate Atkinson’s series of mysteries featuring ex-cop Jackson Brodie. For years I didn’t read any mysteries—-burned out I suppose, and soured on the genre. Then I either heard a review of Atkinson’s books on NPR or read it in the paper. I began with Case Histories, am almost finished with One Good Turn, and looking forward to When Will There Be Good News? There is some sex, violence and foul language in these books, but it doesn’t bother me because it fits, it’s appropriate and it moves the plot. The characters are so intriguing and appealing that the crime itself just a small part of the puzzle.

When I’m considering a book, I always read the reviews on Amazon.com and can usually get a feel for whether I’ll enjoy it. These pulled me in right away.

When all else fails, go back to Anthony Trollope! He never disappoints.