It’s easy to fall in love with fiction. If the writer’s done his/her job, a reader can sit back with a well-formed story, a balanced plot and distinctive characters with unforgettable lines. Everything should work out in fiction. Non-fiction’s not quite so easy. Perhaps the hero didn’t have a memorable speech or the author missed meeting that all-important member of the cast. That author can either tell the truth or stretch it, both of which create their own downsides but, if a talented writer finds an interesting subject and is willing to do the research, some non-fiction books are terrific. But reference books are the Rodney Dangerfields in a printed world: they rarely get any respect, so nobody wants to write them. Without plot or characters, the tomes seldom get attention. I know of three exceptions to the rule. You can read them for reference or for pleasure but either way, you’ll never be bored. Mrs Beeton’s Book of Household Management. This book is history, itself. An English publisher named Beeton talked his wife into assembling this household bible in the 1850’s and for decades it reigned in the homes of British middle and upper class citizens while Victoria reigned…
I’ll never forget reading that blurb. It was on the back of a beige book my mother had brought from the library and when I read it, I said, “Well, that’s a bit much. I flipped the book over and looked at the pen-and-ink cover drawing and the red and black type underneath. It still didn’t look very promising. I looked askance at my mother who shrugged her shoulders. “Read it or don’t” she said. “I thought you might like it, you liked animal stories when you were little.” She looked at the cover and added. “It has rabbits in it.” That’s how I met Watership Down. I didn’t know it at the time but I was merely the latest in a long line of people to underestimate this story, starting with its author. Richard Adams entertained his daughters during rides to school with stories of what they saw along the way: country roads and rabbits. It wasn’t until the girls demanded a written account that he started to shape the tale. Then, four publishers and three agents turned down the manuscript saying “Adults won’t read an animal story and it’s far too scary for kids.” The publisher who printed…
Is it true that children no longer read The Sword in the Stone? A friend of mine with kids says so. Between dystopias, vampires, diseases and monsters, kids are skipping the fantasy that stood the Arthurian legend on its head and that makes me sad. Almost two generations of readers have come of age with no idea of White beyond a Disney movie or a Broadway show their grandparents talked about. Forgive them, Merlin, they don’t know what they’ve missed. For one thing, they skip on a wonderful story with a delicious sense of humor. Malory wrote about Arthur’s birth in Le Morte D’Arthur but we never get to see the young prince grow up; he goes from infant to sword-puller in less than a thousand words and there’s no guessing what happened in between. T. H. White invented all that by mixing modern sensibilities with chivalric legends and he did it with a sense of humor. One good example (a disgusting one but good) is the subject of fewmets, something the roaming King Pellinore knows a good deal about. His sole object in life is to chase after the Questing Beast and a required part of the hunt is…
I’m a fool for those that make me laugh. If you want me to endorse a candidate, follow a flag, babysit kids or be nice to your Mama, make me giggle. That’s been true for a long time and that’s why I champion Florence King. I’ve never met the lady, don’t expect to meet her and I don’t endorse many of her positions but she has my undying devotion (and I read whatever she writes) because she tells a story well and her stories can make me laugh. Florence is the ultimate outsider, She comes by it genetically, according to her memoir, Confessions of a Failed Southern Lady. Her mother, Louise, was the anti-Southern Belle who cursed, competed with men and avoided flirting like it was the plague. Her father was a self-educated cockney musician who didn’t follow any of the practices associated with a Gentleman of the South. These two oddballs got along by accepting each other’s differences and their only child was Florence. That girl puts them both in the shade. Imagine, if you will, a beautiful child who goes off to school wearing pinafore dresses and Mary Janes. Her favorite beverage is black coffee, she already…
Everyone has obsessions: mine are centered around entertainment and art but my husband is obsessed with disasters. There’s history in these tales and often the tragedy of hubris and the indelible courage of the fallen and the survivors. Disaster stories are all about humanity at our best, how we recover from the worst and I think that’s why my husband likes them. Consequently, I’m always on the lookout for a disaster story he may not know. A few years ago, I learned of the Halifax Explosion and found the book Shattered City. If disaster tales are your cup of tea, this is a book for you. It was December 6, 1917, ninety-seven years ago last Saturday, and two ships were both in a hurry. The Imo, a French ship was late leaving Halifax’s harbor with relief supplies for Belgium while the SS Mont Blanc was trying to get into port with a full load of explosives. They collided and spilled fuel on the Mont Blanc set that ship on fire. The crew abandoned ship and the Mont Blanc drifted, unmanned, toward the town. In those days, the fanciest houses were set close to the water and they got a…