I Read; I Travel; I Become. —Derek Walcott
Forgive me, Reader, for I have succumbed. It’s been three months since my last confession. I may or may not have gone into Costco in search of staples like bread and butter (not the Liquid Plumr), and found myself buying books. I said I was after staples, right? So my actions seemed entirely appropriate. Normally, I can muster up some restraint, but I admit I was defenseless.
Here’s how I justified buying not one or two but three books. (After all, it is the magic number.) Our family reunion, happening in one week, is at Bethany Beach. Like the siren’s song, the Atlantic is calling me to come hither. It’s beckoning me and my books to find home on his shore and plunge into pages when I’m not in the sea. Reason enough. But then there’s the FACT that Rachel and I sneak away from our jobs and better yet, our troubles, to head to Cali for a weekend. It’s the most relaxing thing I do all year long. And though I heard doubt in her voice a few posts back, it’s going to happen. I’m sending Knee Deep her way today so she remembers that we owe it to ourselves to find the key to paradise.
That was ample justification. There is always this beautiful truth: the hope of a good book is gratifying in and of itself. So I give my dollars away and put promise squarely on my library shelf. Here are the 3 books that beguiled me:
Roll of Thunder, Hear my Cry by Mildred D. Taylor (40th anniversary special edition)
Our Souls at Night by Kent Haruf (I’ve read great reviews about this one)