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.

Seriously, Who Buys Porn at the Airport Bookstore?

I'm in Detroit waiting to get on my flight to NYC. I've been here since 4:30 AM so I've been killing time perusing the books and magazines in the little bookstore.

These are the same books and magazines I checked out in the airport bookstore back home in LA, but that's absolutely irrelevant. I have to go in. I just love that bookstore smell, the soft lighting, the ambiance of knowledge to be gained.

I don't need to buy a book since I'm rereading "The Bluest Eye" by Toni Morrison right now. But I'm sorely tempted to buy a magazine. And there's so many of them available and helpfully organized by section. Women's general interest and beauty. Women's fitness. Travel and leisure. Entertainment and music. News. Sports. Men's general interest.

And then , last but not least, stuck over in the corner, the plastic-lined magazines with black plastic things in front of them so that we can only see the titles. Ta-da! It's the porn section!

I'm really wondering, who exactly is buying porn at the airport? I mean, have you ever sat next to someone who put down their little tray table and busted open an issue of Hustler or Black Tail? Playgirl?

Thankfully I have not.

So do people buy the porn and then stuff the mags in their carry on so they can salivate over the pictures later on? And why are the magazines covered with plastic? After all, I can browse Vanity Fair to see if I want to get it, but a porn buyer just has to take his or her chances.

I guess a naked body is all that's required.

If you have ever purchased porn in an airport before, let me know the 411. Did you read on the plane or surreptitiously stuff it in your bag next to your copy of Newsweek?

And with that, ladies and gentleman, I'm headed to NYC, porn free.