Ex Libris: 100 Books to Read and Reread

Ex Libris: 100 books to read and reread
by Michiko Kakutani
Rating: ★★★★
isbn: 9780008421953
Publication Date: October 20, 2020
Pages: 301
Genre: Essays
Publisher: William Collins

Pulitzer Prize–winning literary critic Michiko Kakutani shares 100 personal, thought-provoking essays about books that have mattered to her and that help illuminate the world we live in today—with beautiful illustrations throughout.

Readers will discover novels and memoirs by some of the most gifted writers working today; favorite classics worth reading or rereading; and nonfiction works, both old and new, that illuminate our social and political landscape and some of today’s most pressing issues, from climate change to medicine to the consequences of digital innovation. There are essential works in American history (The Federalist Papers, The Writings and Speeches of Martin Luther King, Jr.); books that address timely cultural dynamics (Elizabeth Kolbert’s The Sixth Extinction, Daniel J. Boorstin’s The Image, Margaret Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale); classics of children’s literature (the Harry Potter novels, Where the Wild Things Are); and novels by acclaimed contemporary writers like Don DeLillo, William Gibson, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, and Ian McEwan.

With richly detailed illustrations by lettering artist Dana Tanamachi that evoke vintage bookplates, Ex Libris is an impassioned reminder of why reading matters more than ever.

This was my Jolabokaflod/Jólabókaflóð gift this year – books about books are catnip to me, but I’d have loved it for the illustrations and binding alone – it’s just a really attractive book.

The author, who’s a literary critic for the New York Times in her day job, has assembled 100+ books she thinks are not only worth reading but also re-reading. Most of these are not run-of-the-mill canon books, and she includes a mix of fiction, non-fiction, memoir and poetry. Most were titles I’d never heard of; most for solid reasons concerning my own reading tastes. There’s a heavy theme of dystopia throughout that I think is a mistake – we might be living in dark days, indeed, but referencing, or tying books back into, our specific times and our specific monkeys will have the unfortunate effect of dating this collection before its time.

There were almost a dozen books, though, that I’ve added to my list books I’d like to pursue at some point. Most are non-fiction, a few – like the Federalist Papers, the speeches and writings of Lincoln, and Washington’s Farewell Address have been on the radar for years, but there are a couple of memoirs, a book about Bell Labs and at least one work of fiction I discovered by reading this collection. My TBR didn’t need the additional heft, but I suspect it will be a better, more well-rounded TBR for having these titles added.

If you’re looking to expand your reading horizons, or are just a TBR masochist like I am, this book provides fertile ground, in spite of its dystopian slant towards collective self-loathing; between all the ‘world has gone to hell’ titles there are quite a few gems that are sure to appeal to a multitude of tastes. And did I mention the (hardcover) book is gorgeous?

Remainders of the Day

Remainders of the Day
by Shaun Bythell
Rating: ★★★★
isbn: 9781800812420
Publication Date: September 1, 2022
Pages: 377
Genre: Books and Reading, Memoir
Publisher: Profile Books

The Bookshop in Wigtown is a bookworm's idyll - with thousands of books across nearly a mile of shelves, a real log fire, and Captain, the bookshop cat. You'd think after twenty years, owner Shaun Bythell would be used to the customers by now.

Don't get him wrong - there are some good ones among the antiquarian erotica-hunters, die-hard Arthurians, people who confuse bookshops for libraries and the toddlers just looking for a nice cosy corner in which to wee. He's sure there are. There must be some good ones, right?

Filled with the pernickety warmth and humour that has touched readers around the world, stuffed with literary treasures, hidden gems and incunabula, Remainders of the Day is Shaun Bythell's latest entry in his bestselling diary series.

My second to last book wholly read in 2022, and there’s not a lot to say about it except if you’ve enjoyed Shaun Bythell’s previous memoirs about running a bookshop in Wigtown, you’ll enjoy this one too. If you haven’t yet tried his Diaries of a bookseller, and you enjoy that kind of thing, AND you enjoy reading about cranky, curmudgeons, then you might enjoy giving his books a try.

Each entry includes simple stats about books ordered online (through Abebooks or Amazon) vs. how many of those books were found on the shelves (used bookstores are messy) and how many books were sold in the shop and how much money was made each day. These stats are enough to reinforce that nobody goes into bookselling to get wealthy … or even eat. But in spite of his plain speaking about how tough it is to make it, and how stupid people are capable of being, he fails to dim the appeal of owning one’s own bookshop. At least, not for this reader.

Diary of a Tuscan Bookshop

Diary of a Tuscan Bookshop
by Alba Donati, Elena Pala (translator)
Rating: ★★★
isbn: 9781399605519
Pages: 196
Genre: Books and Reading, Memoir
Publisher: Orion Books

The diary of a publicist-turned poet-turned bookseller who decided to open a tiny bookshop on the hills of the small village of Lucignana, Tuscany.

'Romano, I want to open a bookshop where I live.'
'Great. How many people are we talking about?'
'180.'
'Right, so if 180,000 people live there, then...'
'No, not 180,000, Romano. 180.'
'Alba... Have you lost your mind?'

Conversation between Alba Donati and Romano Montroni, former CEO of Italy's largest bookselling chain
Alba used to live a hectic life, working as a book publicist in Florence - a life that made her happy but also left her feeling like a woman constantly on the run.

So one day she decides go back to the small village in the Tuscan hills where she was born and open a tiny bookshop.
Alba's enterprise seems doomed from day one, but it surprisingly sparks the enthusiasm of many across Tuscany - and beyond. And after surviving a fire and the restrictions imposed by the pandemic, the 'Bookshop on the Hill' soon becomes a refuge and beacon for an ever-growing community of readers.

Meh. I was expecting, and looking forward to, a diary about a ‘micro bookstore’ in a small village of 180 people in Tuscany. Sort of like Sean Bythell’s books, only sunnier and happier.

Only about half the book is about the bookshop. Those bits were good, as were the bits about some of the villagers. But really, the bookshop just serves as a prop for going off on tangents about the author’s childhood, her family, her philosophising, and her literary criticism about books I’ve never heard of, because most of them were poetry and I’m a troglodyte when it comes to poetry (the author herself is an Italian poet).

The book is supposed to be a diary of the first 6 months in 2021 and that’s the way it’s formatted, but there’s almost no adherence to this structure, as every entry Donati goes ‘off-date’ to talk about something else – how the bookstore got started, the fire that destroyed it only months after opening, it’s rebuilding, her childhood, etc. Since the bookstore opened just months before the pandemic, the entires that touched on how that affected her bookstore and the village were interesting. But all the interesting bits were just that: bits. I craved more detail about the bookstore’s conception, creation, restoration, and operation. I did not crave more information about the house she grew up in that didn’t have a bathroom, but about which I had to hear about a disquieting number of times.

It’s not a bad book, just not the book I was looking for.

Lessons in Chemistry

Lessons in Chemistry
by Bonnie Garmus
Rating: ★★★★
isbn: 9780857528124
Publication Date: April 5, 2022
Pages: 390
Genre: Fiction
Publisher: Doubleday

Chemist Elizabeth Zott is not your average woman. In fact, Elizabeth Zott would be the first to point out that there is no such thing.

But it's the early 1960s and her all-male team at Hastings Research Institute take a very unscientific view of equality. Except for one: Calvin Evans, the lonely, brilliant, Nobel-prize nominated grudge-holder who falls in love with - of all things - her mind. True chemistry results.

Like science, life is unpredictable. Which is why a few years later, Elizabeth Zott finds herself not only a single mother, but the reluctant star of America's most beloved cooking show, Supper at Six. Elizabeth's unusual approach to cooking ('combine one tablespoon acetic acid with a pinch of sodium chloride') proves revolutionary. But as her following grows, not everyone is happy. Because as it turns out, Elizabeth Zott isn't just teaching women to cook. She's daring them to change the status quo.

This was a total impulse purchase. It showed up on my Amazon feed when I was looking up another book. The colourful cover caught my eye and at first I thought it was non-fiction, which is why I clicked on it. Turns out it was fiction, but with an interesting story line that promised to be funny. So I bought it.

The narrative jumps around on the timeline a bit at the start, and the first ‘flashback’ wasn’t funny. It was dark and there’s a definite trigger warning for sexual assault. The story takes place in the late 50’s so the misogyny is ripe on the ground and infuriating to read. But there are moments of humor and more importantly, there are men who aren’t assholes. In fact, the ratio is about 50/50, and the author includes a number of misogynistic women too, so that this story is set in what was probably a very realistic late 50’s/early 60’s backdrop. The story itself … not quite so realistic but it was a lot of fun imagining what it would have been like had it been a realistic story. The scenes on-set were hilarious, and I loved the dog (and his name).

There’s a come-full-circle, fairy tale ending to the whole thing but the only other alternative ending I can imagine would involve a romantic HEA, and I much prefer this one, as it makes the story far more empowering without any knights in shining armour.

A solid read.

How Reading Changed My Life (Re-read)

How Reading Changed My Life
by Anna Quindlen
Rating: ★★★★★
isbn: 9780345422781
Publication Date: November 15, 2001
Pages: 85
Genre: Books and Reading, Essays
Publisher: Penguin Random House

THE LIBRARY OF CONTEMPORARY THOUGHT is a groundbreaking series where America’s finest writers and most brilliant minds tackle today’s most provocative, fascinating, and relevant issues. Striking and daring, creative and important, these original voices on matters political, social, economic, and cultural, will enlighten, comfort, entertain, enrage, and ignite healthy debate across the country.

This was a re-read – I meant to grab Ex Libris by Anne Fadiman (which I’ll be re-reading next), but once I started I was happy to keep going.

This is one of those rare books (extended essay, really) that I rated higher on my second read. While I mainly agree with my thoughts from the first read, I didn’t find myself annoyed by the things that annoyed me the first time around. (My original review is on the next page.)

Overall, just an excellent essay on reading, re-reading, the importance of reading Important Texts, and just the joy of being a bookworm.

My original review is here.

Bitch In A Bonnet: Reclaiming Jane Austen From The Stiffs, The Snobs, The Simps And The Saps, Vol. 1

Bitch In A Bonnet Reclaiming Jane Austen From The Stiffs, The Snobs, The Simps And The Saps, Vol. 1
by Robert Rodi
Rating: ★★★½
isbn: 9781469922652
Publication Date: January 1, 2011
Pages: 409
Genre: Books and Reading
Publisher: Createspace

Novelist Rodi launches a broadside against the depiction of Jane Austen as a “a woman’s writer…quaint and darling, doe-eyed and demure, parochial if not pastoral, and dizzily, swooningly romantic — the inventor and mother goddess of ‘chick lit.’”

Instead he sees her as “a sly subversive, a clear-eyed social Darwinist, and the most unsparing satirist of her century… She takes sharp, swift swipes at the social structure and leaves it, not lethally wounded, but shorn of it prettifying garb, its flabby flesh exposed in all its naked grossness. And then she laughs.”

In this volume, which collects and amplifies two-and-a-half years’ worth of blog entries, he combs through the first three novels in Austen’s canon — Sense and Sensibility, Pride and Prejudice, and Mansfield Park — with the aim of charting her growth as both a novelist and a humorist, and of shattering the notion that she’s a romantic of any kind (“Weddings bore her, and the unrelenting vulgarity of our modern wedding industry — which strives to turn each marriage ceremony into the kind of blockbuster apotheosis that makes grand opera look like a campfire sing along — would appall her into derisive laughter”).

Volume 1 gets 1 star less than volume 2. The entertainment is no less raucous, and wit no less scathing, it just comes down to my thoughts about his analysis. I’m with him on Sense and Sensibility, but I felt like his analysis/thoughts about Jane in Pride and Prejudice rather shallow, although the rest was spot-on.

Where he lost me completely was Mansfield Park. I recognise that Fanny is a problematic heroine, and that MP is not revered by most, but his scorched earth analysis suffered from a too-narrow, current century cultural bias and an assumption of Austen’s motives that nobody but nobody can possibly know. I know that these entires are based on his personal readings, interpretations, feelings, etc. but his use of plurality (‘we’, etc.) throughout the text assumes his reader is going to agree with him, and I don’t. Mansfield Park isn’t my favourite, but it’s not my least favourite either (It ranks 4th, if you’re curious).

Still a very worthy read, and an excellent exercise in getting back to the core of Austen’s writing.

Bitch in a Bonnet: Reclaiming Jane Austen from the Stiffs, the Snobs, the Simps and the Saps (Volume 2)

Bitch in a Bonnet
by Robert Rodi
Rating: ★★★★½
isbn: 9781499133769
Publication Date: August 10, 2014
Pages: 514
Genre: Books and Reading
Publisher: Createspace

Novelist Rodi continues his broadside against the depiction of Jane Austen as a “a woman’s writer … quaint and darling, doe-eyed and demure, parochial if not pastoral, and dizzily, swooningly romantic — the inventor and mother goddess of ‘chick lit.’” Instead he sees her as “a sly subversive, a clear-eyed social Darwinist, and the most unsparing satirist of her century.”

In this volume, which collects and amplifies three years’ worth of blog entries, he combs through the final three novels in Austen’s canon — Emma, Northanger Abbey, and Persuasion — with the aim of charting her growth as both a novelist and a humorist, and of shattering the notion that she’s a romantic of any kind.

I’m probably ruined for any further literary criticism at this point. This book was so much fun, and Rodi’s analysis laced with so many quips and jokes and sass, I doubt I’ll ever have any patience for staid, thoughtful, academically minded critiques.

I say “Rodi’s analysis” but that’s probably building the lily a bit. Rodi is an author (whose work I’ve never read), and a man who loves Jane Austen’s work. Not because it’s romantic, but because it is absolutely everything but romantic. He’s a true fan of her writing, her satire, her wit, her ability to create characters that are deeply flawed and darkly funny. He maintains that the prevailing viewpoint that Austen is a writer of romances is the fault of Hollywood and the BBC, who don’t know who to treat her books as the dark comedies they are, and fall back, instead, on the relationships.

Volume 2 covers Emma, Northanger Abbey and Persuasion, and he goes through each book in detail, using a lot of quotes and discussing, in detail, what’s going on in the stories, as if he’s sitting with friends in a version of a bitch and stitch gathering. Only without the swooning over Colin Firth’s wet t-shirt contest of one. There’s no academic speak here and quite a few moments where I laughed out loud.

The thing is, Rodi’s correct: when you really, deeply read Austen, she’s not even a little bit romantic. She has no patience for sentiment, or affection, or weddings. I knew there was a reason I adored her books. For Austen, the more romantic a character, the bigger fool she made of them, and even her heroines aren’t allowed to be great. Good, but not great; not flawless in the least, just the least flawed in a cast of fools, villains and cads.

I fully recognise that I enjoy Rodi’s take on things because it’s a form of confirmation bias, but I don’t care. I’ve ordered the first volume, covering S&S, P&P and Mansfield Park, and I look forward to delving into those with him.

The Library Book

The Library Book
by Susan Orlean
Rating: ★★★★½
isbn: 9781782392262
Publication Date: November 1, 2018
Pages: 319
Genre: Non-fiction
Publisher: Atlantic Books

After moving to Los Angeles, Susan Orlean became fascinated by a mysterious local crime that has gone unsolved since it was carried out on the morning of 29 April 1986: who set fire to the Los Angeles Public Library, ultimately destroying more than 400,000 books, and perhaps even more perplexing, why?

With her characteristic humour, insight and compassion, Orlean uses this terrible event as a lens through which to tell the story of all libraries - their history, their meaning and their uncertain future as they adapt and redefine themselves in a digital world.

Filled with heart, passion and extraordinary characters, The Library Book discusses the larger, crucial role that libraries play in our lives.

When I reviewed The Man Who Loved Books Too Much, I said I dislike true crime, yet here I am again, talking about a true crime book. Sort of.

The publisher’s classification for this book is ‘true crime’ – and it does cover in detail the devastating fire at Central Library in Los Angeles in 1986, but the case remains unsolved, the suspect deceased, and some questions remain about whether or not it was actually arson – so was a crime even committed?

In the same way The Orchid Thief by the same author was nominally about the theft of protected orchid species from parkland, but was really more about the obsessive allure of orchids that drives some people to extremes, so The Library Book is nominally about the Central Library fire, but really a history of the LA Library system and an ode to the importance and joy of libraries in general.

For those that enjoy True Crime, this book is going to be frustrating; for those of us that aren’t fans of true crime, this book will fall somewhere in the range of ‘more palatable’ and ‘perfect’. For me, it was close to perfect. I was fascinated by the narrative of the fire itself, how bad it was, how challenging it was to put out, the whole walk-through of the day itself. The logistics of the aftermath and conserving as many of the books as they could. I was interested in the investigation; the manpower, the few slim leads, interviews with those involved. Mystery catnip! The few chapters devoted to the suspect, Harry Peak, were good, if disturbing. LA really has more than its share of people who live in their own reality.

Orlean interspersed all of this with a history of the Library system, from its modest start as a fee-based lending library at the edge of the wild west, to the massive city-wide system it is today, including concise bios of the many men and women who headed up, ran, and directed the library. A few of these chapters crawled a bit, but there were enough characters involved to keep things mostly lively.

I genuinely enjoy Orlean’s writing; she’s a journalist who knows how to do her research and engage the reader without trying to solicit a reaction in one direction or another. A most excellent read.

The Man Who Loved Books Too Much

The Man Who Loved Books Too Much
by Allison Hoover Bartlett
Rating: ★★★★½
isbn: 9781594488917
Publication Date: January 1, 2009
Pages: 274
Genre: Books and Reading, Non-fiction
Publisher: Riverhead Books

Rare-book theft is even more widespread than fine-art theft. Most thieves, of course, steal for profit. John Charles Gilkey steals purely for the love of books. In an attempt to understand him better, journalist Allison Hoover Bartlett plunged herself into the world of book lust and discovered just how dangerous it can be.

Gilkey is an obsessed, unrepentant book thief who has stolen hundreds of thousands of dollars' worth of rare books from book fairs, stores, and libraries around the country. Ken Sanders is the self-appointed "bibliodick" (book dealer with a penchant for detective work) driven to catch him. Bartlett befriended both outlandish characters and found herself caught in the middle of efforts to recover hidden treasure.

With a mixture of suspense, insight, and humor, she has woven this entertaining cat-and-mouse chase into a narrative that not only reveals exactly how Gilkey pulled off his dirtiest crimes, where he stashed the loot, and how Sanders ultimately caught him but also explores the romance of books, the lure to collect them, and the temptation to steal them. Immersing the reader in a rich, wide world of literary obsession, Bartlett looks at the history of book passion, collection, and theft through the ages, to examine the craving that makes some people willing to stop at nothing to possess the books they love.

I’m not a fan of true crime books; I find any public attempt to ‘get into the mind’ of a criminal a distasteful glorification of abhorrent behaviour and I think criminals should rot in obscurity.

All of which makes my enjoyment of this book just prove what a hypocrite I am, although in my defence I didn’t realise when I bought it that it would be delving into the sociopath’s head – I thought it was more a documentation of the chase itself; how a ‘bibliodick’ investigated the stolen books and how the thief was apprehended. You know, like a mystery!

It was very little of any of those things, since the thief in question was apprehended before Hoover Bartlett started researching the book and agreed to participate (the book started as an article for a San Francisco magazine).

The first half of the book was everything I hoped it would be, as Hoover Bartlett met with rare book dealers, went to book fairs, talked about book collecting and some of the lottery-like finds that have happened over the years. She talked with the ‘bibliodick’, Ken Sanders, who talked about how he got sucked into chasing down the elusive man who’d stolen over 100k worth of books over three years and was getting away with it. The first half of this book was purely fascinating.

The second half of the book was fascinating too – in a train wreck sort of way. The second half of the book focuses on Hoover Bartlett’s attempt to figure out why the thief does what he does, and continues to do even after he’s been caught. I loathe using a serial killer as a comparison – for obvious reasons – but this guy was, in every way except the crimes he committed, Ted Bundy: clean cut, well spoken, charming, respectful, intelligent, with absolutely no conscience whatsoever. He knew what he was doing was illegal, but didn’t think it was wrong – and he didn’t care either way. His delusions were mind-boggling, and just when I thought he couldn’t possibly go there in the land of rationalisations, he’d go there.

I originally bought this book years ago in some half-hearted cautionary tale sort of way, when I was battling the stacks of books threatening to take over my house. It wasn’t that kind of book, but still, it was one I couldn’t put down. It was well written, Hoover Bartlett seemed she was being pretty transparent with the reader, and I genuinely enjoyed the parts about what it means to be a book collector.

But I still don’t like true crime books.

Bookworm: A Memoir of Childhood Reading

Bookworm: A Memoir of Childhood Reading
by Lucy Mangan
Rating: ★★★★½
isbn: 9780224098854
Publication Date: March 1, 2018
Pages: 322
Genre: Books and Reading, Memoir
Publisher: Square Peg

When Lucy Mangan was little, stories were everything. They opened up different worlds and cast new light on this one.

She was whisked away to Narnia - and Kirrin Island - and Wonderland. She ventured down rabbit holes and womble burrows into midnight gardens and chocolate factories. No wonder she only left the house for her weekly trip to the library.

In Bookworm, Lucy brings the favourite characters of our collective childhoods back to life and disinters a few forgotten treasures poignantly, wittily using them to tell her own story, that of a born, and unrepentant, bookworm.

Were you a bookworm as a kid? I was. I was even voted “Class Bookworm” in 7th grade – a category they made up just for me. I was the kid with the book inside the text book during school lectures. So when I saw this a few years ago, I thought … maybe. As much as I enjoy most books about books, I figured the title was likely to be an overstatement and I’d be reading a sedate, literary criticism of childhood books. The front flap reinforced this suspicion. Which is why it sat on my shelves for so long.

Oh, how wrong – and kinda right – I was. Lucy Mangan is a true bookworm; back in the day, she’d have given me a run for the title and the award. She was also way better read than I was, so there is some lit criticism here, but it’s fabulous lit criticism; she’s hilarious and she’s rational and she’s so very real.

On Enid Blyton:

I can barely bring myself to talk about my Enid Blyton.

Like generations of children before me,
and like generations since (she still sells over 8 million
copies a year around the world) I fell head over heels in
love. No, not love – it was an obsession, an addiction. It
was wonderful.

It was an older girl that got me into the stuff. Becky-
next- door lent me her copy of something called Five on a
Secret Trail. It was a floppy, late 1970s Knight Books
edition with, I believe, the original 1950’s illustrations
inside. I read it. It was good. Very good. I enjoyed it. I
enjoyed it very much. I asked Becky if she had any more.
She did. It was called Five Run Away Together. I read it. It
was good. Very good. Possibly even better than Five on
a Secret Trail. I enjoyed it. I enjoyed it very much. I
noticed it had a number ‘3’ on the spine. Five on a Secret
Trail had a ’15’. What did that mean? I decided to look for
clues. Even without a loyal canine companion to help me,
it didn’t take long. The endpapers carried a
list. Apparently Enid Blyton had written twenty-one
books! What excellent news! What riches! What vital.
absolutely essential riches!

I took the news and the list to my parents. I’m going
to need all of these,’ I said, gently.

And so it began.

And on C.S. Lewis’ Narnia series being a Christian allegory:

The tale of Lucy Pevensie discovering the secret
world beyond the wardrobe door is a story about
courage, loyalty, generosity, sacrifice and nobility versus
greed, conceit, arrogance and betrayal. You can call the
former Christian virtues, or you can just call them
virtues, let the kids concentrate on the self-renewing
Turkish delight, magically unerring bows and hybrid
man-beasts and relax.

Reading this, I feel like I missed out on something amazing by not living down the road from Lucy. I suspect we’d have had a lot of fun swapping books and comparing notes. But it was a joy to read her memoirs now and in so doing take a trip down the memory lane of my own reading.

Mangan primarily recounts her childhood reading in a fun and often funny style, but she also dips lightly into the historical aspects of Children’s literature here and there, when the subject matter seems to call for it – a specific genre, or the roots of illustrations. These bits are less engaging, more straightforward, and in context with the whole, makes the pace drag a tiny bit when you get to them. They’re interesting, but they’re not entertaining.

Because Mangan’s writing style is very conversational, the sentences that include many clauses and often long parentheticals can sometimes be hard to follow. This was probably my only criticism – not that I didn’t enjoy the style, because I absolutely did – it’s just once or twice, by the time the sentence ended, I had forgotten how it began.

Admittedly, a large number of the books that Lucy Mangan covers are books unknown to me. I expected this because she was growing up in London, and I was growing up in tiny town Florida. But I was delighted at how often our book titles did converge, and how many titles that, even if I didn’t read them, I was familiar enough with to easily follow along.

The author has written a few other books, and I enjoyed this one so much, that I’m interested to discover what they’re about and see about getting my hands on one or two.