Book Love

I'm home alone since my husband took my sons over to a friend's house to hang out. Nothing good is on TV and no new movies have come from Netflix yet.

But no worries because I have a whole lot of books in this house that need reading.

I'm one of those people that drops the $30 on the the Barnes & Noble membership/discount card and actually gets my money's worth back in a couple months. I know in theory that it's possible to walk out of there without buying anything, but I'm not to that point yet. There's always something good to read whispering in my ear, "Buy me! I have a pretty cover and I'm really well written and engaging!"

Oh and then there's my three library books that I haven't read yet because I'm reading something I picked up at my neighborhood independent bookstore, Skylight Books, two months ago. And yesterday I realized I haven't read "Dracula" in about a month so I picked that up and began reading that again for the millionth time.

Clearly, I have waay too many books swirling around. I place the blame for this book insanity love squarely on the shoulders of my parents.

I know I've mentioned before that my mom and dad have an amazing collection of books. In fact, I feel extremely covetous when I think about some of the cool books they have. Last time I was home, I about died because my mom gave me a gigantic coffee table book I've been in love with since I was a little girl. It's called "Four Fabulous Faces".

The book's about the transformation of Greta Garbo, Gloria Swanson, Marlene Dietrich and Joan Crawford from unknown actresses to mega stars. The photographs in it are amazing and it's fascinating to read about how much power studios had over the appearance of these four women and how their looks changed over the years.

Anyway, I commented on another blog today about how I first read the "Autobiography of Malcolm X" when I was quite young because the book was just sitting around the house. I think it was stacked on a chair in my parent's bedroom. They always have had the best books just sitting around. In fact, I would not be surprised if they have 2-3,000 books waiting to be discovered by an avid reader.

So you see how growing up this way, I think it's normal to have tons of books around. In fact, I've been absolutely horrified on the occasions I've gone to people's homes and have been unable to find a single book lying about. Or what's just as bad is when the books someone has are the ones they bought eons ago for a college literature class. Those books always look so lonely collecting dust on a forgotten shelf.

It's quite judgemental of me but I tend to think it really says something terrible about a person if they have no (or almost no) books around. At a minimum, I believe it means they have no class no matter how fancy their house or car may be. I also start to wonder if the person's secretly a serial killer or in need of serious psychiatric help.

Just kidding, sort of.

The other day I'd just read about Bill O'Reilly's comment about lynching Michelle Obama and felt so mad about it. I called my mom to ask about a book I remember being in our house. She wasn't home so I left her a very vague, rambling message about this book. I knew it contained some very graphic pictures of lynchings in it. I told her I remembered it was soft cover and I described the size.

My mom sent me the following email yesterday:

Dear Liz,
The book you are probably thinking of is The Black Book by Middleton Harris published in 1974. The book was about more than lynching as you may remember. It is a folk history. There are now more books specifically about lynching. Without Sanctuary by James Allen and Lynching Photographs by Dora Apel are just a couple.

My mom's a genius to be able to decipher my message and figure out what in the world I was talking about. I'm sure she knew what book I was referring to off the top of her head. I'm doubly impressed by how she's able to throw out a couple more must-read titles just like that.

I decided to check out how much it would be to get my own copy of "The Black Book". It's out of print so if I want a version that's full of rips and is taped up, I'll pay around $45.

If I want one that's not in mint condition but doesn't have ripped pages and scotch tape on it, I'll pay around $85.

A nice copy is around $125. EEK!

I may not get that particular one but I know I'll be getting some version of this book eventually. I need to have it sitting around for my sons to discover. And maybe one day they'll have a blog and blame me for them being in love with books too.

I really hope so.

In A Bookstore But Not Trying To Read "The Foot Book"

Gosh, I've been so ridiculously busy all week. I've been meaning to tell you all about this:

Monday night in Barnes and Noble, I was sitting in the cafe, meeting with one of my teachers. Suddenly, I felt something touch my foot. And then it touched it again.

Initially, I didn't think anything of this. After all, you know how people accidentally kick you under the table or think they're resting their foot on a table leg and it's actually not a table leg, it's your foot. I thought the teacher I was meeting with might just be bumping into me or something. So I moved my foot a little. Problem solved, right?

Well, a few seconds later, whatever it was, touched my foot again. And then it stayed there, rubbing against my foot.

What was it, you wonder?

Not a mouse.
Not a rat.
Not the teacher I was sitting with.

It was the man sitting at the table behind me.

When I have more time, I'll tell you what happened next, but I'm curious. What would you have done in that situation?