So many books for girls, so little time

Dear Duck and Snake (your two favorite noises to make right now):

Your Da! and I have spent a lot of time reworking the inner vibes of the house, which in the process uprooted our best book storage. Since we've been trying to get rid of some, it's probably for the best. But, now my attic office looks more like some hole-in-the-wall used bookstore with much less quaintness, but probably just as steamy hot.

Now that I can see most of the books I've been harboring for so long, I can see why. I love them all, even the ones I haven't read. But, especially, the ones I have read and felt changed after reading them.

As previously promised, I'm going to tell you about some of the best ones, and why I'm keeping them with hopes that some day your eyes will read down the same pages.

The novel I'm talking about today is actually my newest purchase, and it was for my book club.

I'm talking about Snow Flower and the Secret Fan, by Lisa See.

I recommend this book for no other reason than to learn how other girls have lived, what other women have suffered through, quietly.

Our book club had a lot to say about this book, and most of us agreed that we would not be able to endure what those girls endured through the torture of foot binding, but also the soulless life they lived afterwards because they couldn't easily walk and so they practically lived in one room.

I did, however, enjoy the idea of having a group of women who were bound to you for life. I think it's a great idea and that motherhood would be easier if we had such a support group.

Any book that can both keep you turning the pages while offering a passport to another culture, another world is worth keeping around.

But, sadly, that means something has to go. You know this. I'm choosing to send two books packing this time, both by Author Anita Shreve: The Pilot's Wife and All He Ever Wanted. I only read the first, and I really liked it, but it's not something I can see passing along for deeper meaning.

So many books for girls, so little time Vol. 3

I have fallen behind in my book purging efforts, but hope to get back on track. It would help if I knew how to get rid of the books without having to actually leave the house.

Still, here goes:

My dear sweet girls, you must read, "Reading Lolita in Tehran," by Azar Nafisi.

Perhaps one of the greatest books ever written about books, this book not only takes you into the minds of women living in the Islamic Republic of Iran, but it takes you into some of literature's greatest reads.

I read this book more than two years ago, but could read it over and over not just for it's great insight into some fabulous novels, but because of the insight it gives into how other countries view Americans. You simply cannot read this book and walk away feeling proud to be American. You simply cannot read this book without thinking we need to change our ways.

I hope that you read this novel and learn about a different culture, inspire a world of peace and hope for all, and, lastly, develop a love and knowledge about great literature.

Among the books discussed in this book: Lolita, The Great Gatsby and Pride and Prejudice.

Now, for those that must go:

"Lolita," by Vladimir Nabokov. I read this book right after "Reading Lolita in Tehran," and while it was definitely worth reading, I do not feel that I will recommend it for my sweet daughters. They may choose to read it someday.

I'm also going to discard, "Balzac and the Little Chinese Seamstress," by Dai Sijie. This book is a lot like, "Reading Lolita," but just not nearly as good and I really was disappointed with the ending.

So many books for girls, so little time

Girls,

You'll remember last week I mentioned that every Tuesday I'm going to tell you about a book I own and why I'm saving it for you and on the same day tell you about a book I'm getting rid of because we don't have enough space in this house for all of these books and all of your stuff, too. I write these as part of 5 Minutes for Moms' Tackle it Tuesday because if I didn't, this task would never get done and I would just let these books stare at me from their special spaces on the bookshelves.

This week, I'm introducing my first real book review as well. The great people at Harper Collins sent me a review copy of "How Elizabeth Barrett Browning Saved My Life," by Mameve Medwed
, in return for a review on this blog. I'll do anything to get free books so I do not feel bought in anyway here.

I chose this book after seeing a review copy was available through BlogHer. Or, after I tell you this story, perhaps you'll think this book chose me.

First, a little background about me, your mother. In college, as an English major, reading classic literature was pretty much all I did. One of those classic writers became a minor obsession of mine. Virginia Woolf. From the beginning, I was consumed by her stream of consciousness writing, her tale of being a strong woman, suffering from depression after not being able to be with her true love -- another woman -- and then the fact that she killed herself. I had very little in common with her, yet I felt I knew her. I felt I had something connected to her. That's when I realized that sometimes a little piece of us comes from the books we read and their author's, too.

I tell you all of this because as soon as I started reading "How Elizabeth Barrett Browning Saved My Life" I quickly realized there was a little connection to Woolf in the novel, The author mentions early on another book, "Flush," which is a biography of Barrett Brownings' dog written by none other than Virginia Woolf. More importantly, I own a copy of "Flush," which I proudly picked up at some obscure used book store in Provincetown, Cape Cod, a few years ago when your Da! and I vacationed there.

So, to get to the review here, "How Elizabeth ..." is pure chick literature. I do not read chick lit, typically. I prefer literary fiction that is about women, or by women. However, this book was very well done. There is even a little twist at the end that made me feel refreshed that it wasn't just another "single girl hits rock bottom, but is saved by a man" story.

What I loved about the book, besides it's lightness and refreshing topic -- the main character is an antiques dealer and she goes on "Antiques Roadshow" -- is that she is also highly educated and speaks on a higher level than most chick lit. My avoidance of such books has a lot to do with main characters obsessing over shopping and money. This novel doesn't speak to materialism in that way. This is different. It's great beach reading, or just sitting in the yard with a glass of lemonade reading.

And, if you're someone like me who needs to learn to love what you have, it speaks to that, too. In a big way.

So, for all of the reasons above, "How Elizabeth Barrett Browning Saved My Life," by Mameve Medwed will be staying on our shelves and I hope that you will read it someday.

Sadly, something has to go this week. I'm choosing "Three Junes," by Julia Glass. I just didn't like the book much at all.

Suffering from Good Book Syndrome

Girls,

Right now, I am suffering. My heart aches.

I have the worst feeling. The one that means nothing can take me back to that feeling ... that cozy, warm sensation of reading a really good book -- the one I turn to in time of happiness, sadness, tiredness. The one that keeps me up later at night, the one I turn to in the middle of the day instead of writing, instead of cleaning.

I have been suffering from what I call "Good Book Syndrome" for more than a week. It might be closer to two weeks. This is when I search and search for the next Perfect Book. I skim pages and pages of First Pages. I go scowering about the house, asking, "Have you seen (SUCH AND SUCH BOOK)." Shouting, "Well, it has to be here some where." I dig through shelves upon shelves -- moving about from first floor, to second floor, to, finally, the third floor. I check the Waiting-to-be-read piles around my bedside table. Nothing clicks. Nothing sticks.

For a small book club I'm in, we read "Water for Elephants," by Sara Gruen. It was so good that when I was done, I immediately handed it over to The Da! because I knew he would read it in, like a day, and then I'd have someone to talk about it with since book club was a mere two weeks away. I was right ... he was done in no time. The last time I felt this way about a book was "Bel Canto," by Anne Patchett. But he didn't read it. This is the first time we've read a book and then discussed it. More on that in another post.

Since then, since I closed that Great Book with a smile, I haven't been able to latch onto anything else. And, I have tried. Very hard.

I started first with "The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time."
Since I do most of my reading before bed, this novel -- as refreshing as it seems -- was too much like a textbook from grade school that I should have read. In fact, it's a great refresher book. I couldn't tolerate all that information being junked up in my head just before trying to get a good night's rest.

So, I tried "The Bean Trees," by Barbara Kingsolver. It's the book's 20th anniversary. I read an article by Kingsolver in GH, so I felt it was time to read this great one of hers. It has been on my shelf for years. I know Turtle. I know Barbara. I'm a big fan. Still, it wasn't working. I had to put it down.

That's when I started "The Orchid Thief," by Susan Orlean.

Still, I can't help feeling a great loss, a little empty inside. Crawling into bed to read, just isn't the same when I'm not in love with tonight' book. It's a lot like, well, you know. I can't write THAT here.

But, unlike the others, I think I will stick with this title ... at least for a while. It is the next best thing. I think. At least it is until my next freelance check arrives and I have a little money to spend at the book store.