June 21, 2006

I feel like I never have enough time to read, and yet when I look at the books I've read each month I'm surprised how many I manage to sneak in.  I read two great page-turners from the suspense/mystery/thriller shelves: A Field of Darkness, by Cornelia Read, a witty, hard--edge mystery featuring a wise-cracking ex-debutante, sharp language, and memorable characters. The Hard Way, by Lee Child  is the 10th novel featuring Jack Reacher, the smart, rugged, ex-military cop, drifter, who opens the book "alone, the way he liked it, soaking up the hot electric New York City night." Need I say more?

This year's hot summer read is Sara Gruen's Water for Elephants, a lovely, fascinating tale of a Depression-era travelling circus, one of those rare books that almost everyone will like. If you're looking for a beach book, pick up the madcap comedy Coupon Girl, by Becky Motew.

I read three books about Brooklyn, where I lived for seven memorable years: Paul Auster's Brooklyn Follies, the story of Nathan Glass, who goes to Brooklyn to die, but instead becomes involved in an appropriately (for Auster and Brooklyn) eccentric cast of characters. Brooklyn Noir 2 is a collection of classic stories set in Brooklyn neighborhoods. I have only read H.P. Lovecrafts creepy The Horror at Red Hook, but look forward to the rest, including stories by two of my favorite writers: Pete Hamill and Jonathan Lethem.

My son Jason, who shares my devotion to the New York Mets, gave me a wonderful book he found in a  Maine antique store: The Brooklyn Dodgers, an Informal History, written by Frank Graham and published in 1945. While writing this letter I watched the Mets suffer a bruising loss to the Reds (Billy Wagner blew a save) in a game where 22-year-old Jose Reyes hit for the cycle (only the ninth Met in their 45-year history to do so). Ah, baseball! One of my all-time favorite quotes is "You may glory in a team triumphant, but you fall in love with a team in defeat." Roger Kahn, The Boys of Summer.

Another used book I dipped into is The Garden Notebook, purchased in Concord, a town with a literary pedigree. (Concord was the home of Louisa May Alcott, Emerson, Thoreau, and Hawthorne.) Published in 1932 it is surprisingly useful--home gardening hasn't changed much in three-quarters of a century. My favorite aspect is the extensive marginalia of the original owner. Used books bring a companionable touch to the reading experience. While in Concord, I also bought an early, undated British copy of  Thoreau's A Weekend on the Concord and Merrimac Rivers which I am reading a little bit at a time. Thoreau packs a lot into his pages and his words take time to absorb, something like reading a book of poetry. Speaking of which, one of my very favorite poets, Seamus Heaney, has published a new book, District and Circle, which I am savoring, one poem at a time.

I finally read Philip Roth's The Human Stain, which I had avoided, because the title is so, well, icky. But Jason, who was reading Roth's American Pastoral, which I loved, said I should read it, and he was right. What can I say? It's flawed, but also brilliant and ambitious, qualities I don't see enough of.

Today I started Alan Furst's new novel, The Foreign Correspondent. I love his dense, dark World War II espionage novels,set in Spain, Bulgaria, and other European nations. They are brooding and romantic and filled with historical detail, and subtle intrigue. Good summer reading. But then, what isn't?

Jennifer

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