The 25 book pace that once seemed daunting now feels normal. I'm like a minor leaguer who has finally adjusted to life in the big leagues. Playing four out of every five days is not a problem any more, just a way of life. I've found a rhythm. I know what I need to do to make it through this long season.
But all this talk about libraries has gotten me a little distracted and I haven't mentioned a word about, Rising from the Plains, The Writing Life, or The Road. To be honest I don't have much to say. All of them were very good. Rising and The Writing Life will stay in my collection, The Road was well done but just a little drab. It's the only book I've ever read that I have almost no desire to see the movie. A sunless, post-apocalyptic world ruled by fear. Once through was enough, thank you Cormac. I will give him another chance, however, for I can not deny the talent nor the tears that welled up at the end of the book. He's a great story teller; he might just be a little dark for me. We'll see.
What I really want to write about is a little self-indulgent. I understand if there is little desire to read what I'm about to write. But, as I've discussed libraries, I noticed the groups of author's that give my collection it's shape and feel, it's texture if you will. The first and most obvious author group is what I like to call the "Nose Blowers." If an authors in this group blows their nose on a few pages, gives those pages a sturdy binding and places it on a book shelf, Travis will buy it without any question. They are the heart of the library, they pump blood to everywhere else and feel somehow connected to all of the other books. They are as much a part of the structure of the library as the shelves themselves. They write books my other books want to be when they grow up. My Nose Blowers are as follows: Rick Bass, Leanne Payne, CS Lewis, JK Rowling, and David McCullough. While discussing my library, I have simply grown more appreciative of these authors and want to take a moment to share what they have meant to me over the years.
Leanne Payne:
With Payne I feel like I have breathed deeply the fragrance of someone writing in the Spirit. She doesn't pretend to be a master of prose like Lewis, but her words carry the weight of the Spirit, of ancient Sage-like wisdom. A modern day, wordier, Oswald Chambers.
Whether it's me or the guy standing next to me, she convinced me that the Lord can really heal (Restoring the Christian Soul). Her thoughts on masculinity made Eldridge feel like an idealistic 20 year old who has grasped a deep truth, but hasn't quite lived it out yet (Crisis in Masculinity). She opened my eyes to the reality of walking in the Spirit on a moment to moment basis (Restoring the Christian Soul & Healing Presence). She gave this slightly ADD person practical help in prayer. She helped me cut out the philosophical wanderings and musings from my prayer journal; she's helped my prayer life grow up (Listening Prayer). Books can't replace the face to face, the iron sharpening iron, from peers and mentors. But for me Leanne Payne has maximized the impact of the written word outside of scripture.
Ernest Hemingway:
Seems a little redundant to have his full name doesn't it? Anyway, I love him. Not everyone understands this, but he simply captures human longing in such a way that makes me sigh and say, "Yeah, I have that ache too..." Every book feels like you are looking at an ocean sunset as the love of your life slips beyond the horizon in a sail boat.
He makes writing seem so simple, like anyone could do it. I get done reading him and say, "Ah, Hah! Get me a computer, I can do this!" He is so concise he'd be the world's worst blogger-- he'd say everything bloggers do in one paragraph and then we'd all have to get back to work. He shares my love of the ocean and I'm convinced captures it's essence better than any other author (Islands in the Stream). Of course, he also makes every alcoholic drink sound like some sort of timeless, delicious, work of art. The ocean, booze, and longing; there is no one better than Hemingway.
JK Rowling:
These are the only books I have every wanted to own in hardback. JK, I was hoping you might take Stephen King's suggestion and turn Harry into a Sherlock Holmes type character, a character that just keeps having adventure after adventure. I understand the need for closure though. I can't imagine the connection you feel with these characters. I thought Frodo and Samwise held a place in my heart, but this was simply another level. How did you deliver book after book with more hype in the human history of the written word? I'd understand if you never touched your keyboard again. The truth is, you really don't need to. Go on, JK just blow your nose on something, I will buy it.
David McCullough:
I often reread his ending to the Brooklyn Bridge out loud. It was so beautifully sentimental, so efficient at summarizing the essence of it's history. I read it out loud, like it's poetry. I want to go to New York primarily to see this bridge and walk across it on a spring day. The author description on the back of all his books should read something like this, "David McCullough: he can make you care about a bridge." The truth is, he makes me care about absolutely everything he writes. I simply do not care what the topic is anymore, I trust him completely. A 1,000 pages on Gerber Daisies? I'm in. Let's do it, Dave. Let's do the daisies.
At the risk of losing current readers, I will not gush any more about Rick Bass and CS Lewis.
The next group I call the, "I've Got My Eye On You Group." They've earned my respect enough that I will consider reading and buying every book they write but not without a little investigation and preview first. I probably own a handful of their books. Many times they were in my "Nose Blower," group at one time and now I've moved on a bit or they've had a few bombs and lost my trust. Some I've outgrown a little. I'm sure in 20 years some of my Nose Blowers might be downgraded to this group as well. Rick Bass just wrote a book about a country music family and sadly, I fear like he might be a few books away from this group. Nevertheless, this group has earned my respect over the years and make up a good portion of my collection.
Stephen King:
I need you to remember one simple fact about Stephen King: he wrote The Shawshank Redemption1. People forget this so easily. All they think about is the creepy monsters and all the children he has killed in his books throughout the years. He wrote Shawshank. Please don't forget that. Let us change his name to Shawshank King so that we might not forget. Many of his other books have been almost as beautiful. Try Green Mile, or one of my favorite books of all time Hearts in Atlantis ("It was the kiss by which all others would be measured, and found wanting"). Even The Stand and Duma Key entered the Shawshank ballpark. He knows how to inspire, he knows how to pull at your heartstrings as well as torture children. With Shawshank always in mind, I have to consider everything he writes.
He's a sentimental favorite as well because he really got me excited about reading. I discovered him early in middle school and hid his books in my room because my parents knew I was a little young for some of his stuff. The first time I read him I thought, "ooooo...you can swear in books? That...is...awesome!!" No one swears like Stephen King. He's always got some new obscene name that, as a middle school boy, just rolls off your tongue and makes you think, "How come no one ever put those two swear word together before? That's awesome! I should try that out at school tomorrow on my friend Nick." And then that new swear word becomes one more brick in the wall of your mind that causes you to forget he wrote Shawshank.
I have a 20 year history with King; I know him pretty well. I have this cocky belief that I can read the first couple pages of any book and tell immediately if he is writing from the Shawshank/Heart's in Atlantis place in his heart or if he's regressed back to Gerald's Game (a book with a plot so awful, I can't even begin to describe it.) If you are at a party and your best friend since middle school starts telling a story to a group of people, you can immediately tell if he is being honest or putting on a show. I think a pastor's wife probably feels the same when her husband takes the pulpit. I sniffed out Duma Key a while back with this system and found a great story about forgiveness, healing, dealing with your demons and a Hemingway-esque appreciation for the ocean. I give every Shawshank King book a fair test; he's earned it in spite of himself.
John Eldridge:
Love most of his stuff. Seems a little immature now that I'm a little older, but I will always be thankful for the way he spoke out against the passivity and the feminization of the suburban, North American church going male. Will always thumb through any of his new books to see if they strike a chord.
JR Tolkien:
Trailing only Hermione, Ron and Harry, Frodo and Samwise will always be remembered with tenderness and a sigh. Reading about Frodo sailing on to the Gray Havens will forever be etched in my memory. I thought I was done with Tolkien after The Fellowship series but a friend gave me The Similarion and now I'm not so sure. The Similarion was fabulous. I can't fully enter the world of Tolkien, but what I've read will always have a place on my shelf.
Fredrick Buechner:
Buechner claims that his books are too religious for the mainstream but a little too secular for the conservatives. This appears to be in my strike zone. I discovered him in high school and while not all of his books make my library cut, he was the first Christian theologian/author I ever read. He lead me to Lewis and others. My parents were probably relieved to see his books in my hands as opposed to Stephen King. At his best, I have memorized entire pages of his books and still recite them out loud today. He is one of few overtly Christian authors ever nominated for a Pulitzer (Godric) and his daily devotional is one of my all time favorites (Listening to Your Life).
Those are my two major groups. There are still the, "One Hit Wonders" and "Childhood favorites" but I think I have taken your generosity as far as I should for now. Thanks for letting me indulge a little.
Would love to have a collection of everyone's "Nose Blower List!" Please feel free to comment!
Happy Reading,
-td
ps. It might be a little while before my next post. I need to write about Mizzou leaving the Big 12 which doesn't really fit in this blog. I'm not sure what I'll do with it, but I need to get it down. This means this blog might be on hold for a week or two. I'll be back though and promise to move past my library talks... :)
1. It was actually titled Rita Hayworth and the Shawshank Redemption and is part of the collection of stories called Different Seasons.
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
Why I want a Library Part 2!
In my previous post I discussed why I wanted to own a personal library. I got wonderful feedback and thoughts from many of you. My friend Micah posted a comment that has got me thinking more about personal libraries. So, instead of moving on....yahoo! More library talk!
Micah's post was as follows:
"TD...there is so much about owning a great library (books & physical space) that really appeals to me but I have my own inner struggle that has not been resolved...it comes from a notion in a story in Rachel Remen's book Kitchen Table Wisdom...I don't want to own more things than I can love...I just can't love that much stuff"
From my research this quote comes from a story about a poor, young boy who owns only two Hotwheel toy cars and loves those two cars more than any other possession. A more affluent friend of the family notices the boy's passion for Hotwheels and, out of love, gives the boy a box full of Hotwheels. Time passes and the friend notices that the young boy no longer plays with his Hotwheels. When asked about this, the boy replies, "Rachel, I just don't know how to love this many cars..." The author's conclusion from this touching story: "I don't want to own more things than I can love..."
As with most thoughts from my friend Micah, it has the subtle, simple ring of truth. It reminds me of a line from my current book, The Writing Life by Annie Dillard. "The life of sensation is the life of greed; it requires more and more. The life of the spirit requires less and less; time is ample and its passage sweet." Here's a run down on some of the thoughts that have been running through my head as I wrestle with this quote and it's application to the wonderful world of personal libraries.
As many of you know, the word "love" is horribly broad. As I learned from Matt Chandler a few years back, the word "love" has three separate words in Hebrew. You've got Raya (friend and companion like), Ahava (the emotion that leads to life long commitment), and Dod (the physical and sexual element in a relationship). It's hard for me to apply any of these Hebrew sentiments to any object--hotwheels or books. But we all do it, it's an ever present hyperbole that our culture has embraced. We love our sports teams, we love Knorks, we love open floor plans, hardwood floors, granite counter tops, and large back yards (yes, my wife and I are currently house shopping). I'd like to be in a place where I don't love any objects. Ya know, like trying to save Raya, Ahava, and Dod for things like God, wife, people and of course my old dog Booker (minus the Dod). Besides, isn't love an unlimited resource? When the Lord said to love your neighbor he seemed to suggest that we couldn't use the excuse, "Well I can't love that many people, all of my love is used up." If God is love than surely we are unlimited in our capacity to love.
But alas, this whole conversation feels like Christian-ese deflection, right? Nothing like a distracting conversation on the semantics of the word "love" to really hide from the question on the table: Is it healthy to try and attach that much meaning and value to so many books? Or more specific to the story: Does my collection of books hinder my enjoyment of reading as it did with the boy and his Hotwheels?
On our four-week honeymoon, my wife and I took a ridiculous 1,100 pictures (teachers get to do silly things like take four-week honeymoons). We picked about three hundred of the 1,100 and got a Shutterfly book that we share with friends and family. Of course, I could survive without many of the three hundred pictures. But they all have meaning to one degree or another, and the collection as a whole is a joy to peruse and share with other people. And, by trimming down the number of pictures we printed from 1,100 to three hundred, the sheer volume of photos doesn't seem to distract from the purpose of the book: to remind me of the lavish gifts the Lord showered on my wife and me.
When I ask myself, "Can I really love all these books?" it feels like someone looking over my shoulder and scowling while I'm in a comfortable chair enjoying my honeymoon pictures.
It is not hard to see the danger in a library. As you know, I love having a section of unread books (the Raven book just winked at me) but it's not hard to see how this could flow into the stream of gluttony (more, More, MORE!). I've noticed that eyeing my unread section doesn't ever seem quite as sexy as a stroll through Half Priced Books, for a truly "new" book. To help combat this and my propensity to keep books that have little to no meaning, I have a self imposed library limit. Right now it's two bookshelves. If we buy a house it will hopefully be one room with built in book shelves on one or two walls. Whatever the limit, it prevents me from accumulating countless boxes of books that end up doubling as a nesting cave for attic spider eggs (that clicking sound you hear is my wife copying, pasting and saving the previous line just in case the love of her life needs a gentle reminder one day). It helps me limit my Half Priced Book expeditions and helps me enjoy the books I have. It also forces me to dispose of the ones that didn't stir my heart (I'm looking at you Cormac McCarthy).
As previously discussed, my reasons for owning a library are as follows: 1) it honors parts of my heart, 2) It provides great conversations, 3) It allows me to share with others, 4) It sets a quiet, reflective spirit in at least one room. It'd be easy to just say these things just make books different than Hotwheels. Hotwheels (at least for me) can't speak truth, can't make me laugh, and can't make me cry. But it's more than just that. It feels like a CEO father thumbing through the sketch book of an artistic son and asking, "Which ones don't you love? Which ones can we get rid of?" I'm not entirely sure it's the right question for me to be asking in this particular situation, at this particular time in my life, as much as I love and affirm the quote.
Maybe to get around the whole thing, I can just get a little sneaky. "But Rachel, this doesn't apply here, I don't love that many things, I only love one thing... I love my book collection!"
It's a great thought Micah, I love the quote. Thanks so much for reading and sharing something personal.
Happy reading and Hotwheeling,
-td
Micah's post was as follows:
"TD...there is so much about owning a great library (books & physical space) that really appeals to me but I have my own inner struggle that has not been resolved...it comes from a notion in a story in Rachel Remen's book Kitchen Table Wisdom...I don't want to own more things than I can love...I just can't love that much stuff"
From my research this quote comes from a story about a poor, young boy who owns only two Hotwheel toy cars and loves those two cars more than any other possession. A more affluent friend of the family notices the boy's passion for Hotwheels and, out of love, gives the boy a box full of Hotwheels. Time passes and the friend notices that the young boy no longer plays with his Hotwheels. When asked about this, the boy replies, "Rachel, I just don't know how to love this many cars..." The author's conclusion from this touching story: "I don't want to own more things than I can love..."
As with most thoughts from my friend Micah, it has the subtle, simple ring of truth. It reminds me of a line from my current book, The Writing Life by Annie Dillard. "The life of sensation is the life of greed; it requires more and more. The life of the spirit requires less and less; time is ample and its passage sweet." Here's a run down on some of the thoughts that have been running through my head as I wrestle with this quote and it's application to the wonderful world of personal libraries.
As many of you know, the word "love" is horribly broad. As I learned from Matt Chandler a few years back, the word "love" has three separate words in Hebrew. You've got Raya (friend and companion like), Ahava (the emotion that leads to life long commitment), and Dod (the physical and sexual element in a relationship). It's hard for me to apply any of these Hebrew sentiments to any object--hotwheels or books. But we all do it, it's an ever present hyperbole that our culture has embraced. We love our sports teams, we love Knorks, we love open floor plans, hardwood floors, granite counter tops, and large back yards (yes, my wife and I are currently house shopping). I'd like to be in a place where I don't love any objects. Ya know, like trying to save Raya, Ahava, and Dod for things like God, wife, people and of course my old dog Booker (minus the Dod). Besides, isn't love an unlimited resource? When the Lord said to love your neighbor he seemed to suggest that we couldn't use the excuse, "Well I can't love that many people, all of my love is used up." If God is love than surely we are unlimited in our capacity to love.
But alas, this whole conversation feels like Christian-ese deflection, right? Nothing like a distracting conversation on the semantics of the word "love" to really hide from the question on the table: Is it healthy to try and attach that much meaning and value to so many books? Or more specific to the story: Does my collection of books hinder my enjoyment of reading as it did with the boy and his Hotwheels?
On our four-week honeymoon, my wife and I took a ridiculous 1,100 pictures (teachers get to do silly things like take four-week honeymoons). We picked about three hundred of the 1,100 and got a Shutterfly book that we share with friends and family. Of course, I could survive without many of the three hundred pictures. But they all have meaning to one degree or another, and the collection as a whole is a joy to peruse and share with other people. And, by trimming down the number of pictures we printed from 1,100 to three hundred, the sheer volume of photos doesn't seem to distract from the purpose of the book: to remind me of the lavish gifts the Lord showered on my wife and me.
When I ask myself, "Can I really love all these books?" it feels like someone looking over my shoulder and scowling while I'm in a comfortable chair enjoying my honeymoon pictures.
It is not hard to see the danger in a library. As you know, I love having a section of unread books (the Raven book just winked at me) but it's not hard to see how this could flow into the stream of gluttony (more, More, MORE!). I've noticed that eyeing my unread section doesn't ever seem quite as sexy as a stroll through Half Priced Books, for a truly "new" book. To help combat this and my propensity to keep books that have little to no meaning, I have a self imposed library limit. Right now it's two bookshelves. If we buy a house it will hopefully be one room with built in book shelves on one or two walls. Whatever the limit, it prevents me from accumulating countless boxes of books that end up doubling as a nesting cave for attic spider eggs (that clicking sound you hear is my wife copying, pasting and saving the previous line just in case the love of her life needs a gentle reminder one day). It helps me limit my Half Priced Book expeditions and helps me enjoy the books I have. It also forces me to dispose of the ones that didn't stir my heart (I'm looking at you Cormac McCarthy).
As previously discussed, my reasons for owning a library are as follows: 1) it honors parts of my heart, 2) It provides great conversations, 3) It allows me to share with others, 4) It sets a quiet, reflective spirit in at least one room. It'd be easy to just say these things just make books different than Hotwheels. Hotwheels (at least for me) can't speak truth, can't make me laugh, and can't make me cry. But it's more than just that. It feels like a CEO father thumbing through the sketch book of an artistic son and asking, "Which ones don't you love? Which ones can we get rid of?" I'm not entirely sure it's the right question for me to be asking in this particular situation, at this particular time in my life, as much as I love and affirm the quote.
Maybe to get around the whole thing, I can just get a little sneaky. "But Rachel, this doesn't apply here, I don't love that many things, I only love one thing... I love my book collection!"
It's a great thought Micah, I love the quote. Thanks so much for reading and sharing something personal.
Happy reading and Hotwheeling,
-td
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