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Browsing Tag: #books
A Book You Love & One You Didn’t There are so many things wrong with this subject. First of all the words “One” & “A”. Like I could seriously pick just one of each. But I will try. It’s fairly easy to pick one I love because I just finished it. It kept my attention like few have in the past few years. It was my Book Club’s selection for this month: Fever by Mary Beth Keane. It’s the story of Typhoid Mary, set in the early years of the 20th century. New York City’s lower east side tenements were teeming with disease and filth & Mary was a cook for some of the richest families of Manhattan. She is an unmarried Irish immigrant with strong opinions & an even stronger work ethic. Yeah, I know it sounds boring, but I am telling you it is gripping & engrossing enthralling & all the words. She makes it so interesting & causes you to speculate on your own life. Are you where you’d thought you’d be as an adult? Do you think it will always be as it is now? What if you are old & lose your job & no one wants you? What if the thing you love & that you are best at is punishable by law if you practice it? What if the man you love is an alcoholic…
Most women, I think, grow up dreaming of having a baby. They think about it all the time, starting with a fantasy about what their husband will look like, where they will meet & fall in love, what type of fairytale princess wedding gown they will wear & the flowers they will carry…then where they will make a home. Depending on their husband’s profession, these women may be envisioning a plush apartment in the city, or a colonial with a picket fence in the suburbs. They may even be aspiring to a grand greek revival mansion on the river. I can identify thus far. But when they start thinking about the little ones…and they’ve got the names picked out & what order they may have them, & how they’ll decorate their bedrooms…well, that’s where my dreams always ended & another one started. As surely y’all know about my proclivity to devouring books, it should come as no surprise that I dreamed of my own library. Walls of books. Stacks & shelves towering on every available surface, too many to count. Books of all types: old, classic, leatherbound editions; mass produced paperback fiction; history books; college textbooks; journals; coffee table photographic books, you name it. I wanted them ALL. I wanted a red wall, & a warm rug, & a leather chair. I wanted a Tiffany lamp & a box of kleenex when emotions were…
