Learning through fiction
Someone on one of the readers’ pages I frequent on Facebook posted something recently about only wanting to read nonfiction because she “likes to learn while I read.” And it made me think about the fact that I never read nonfiction (since I left school, I can count the number of nonfiction books I have read on two hands), but that I learn many things, nonetheless, from my reading.
One example that I use when people raise an eyebrow in disbelief: A few years ago, one of my friends told me she was suffering greatly from Ménière’s disease, which is “a disorder of the inner ear that can cause vertigo (spinning sensation), tinnitus (ringing or buzzing in the ear), hearing loss, and a feeling of fulness or pressure in the affected ear. It is a chronic condition, meaning it’s long-lasting and can have recurrent episodes of symptoms.” She told me there was no sure-fire treatment and that she simply had to live with it, but that it meant multiple days of lying immobile waiting for the symptoms to go away.
I immediately remembered a scene in Barbara Kingsolver’s novel Prodigal Summer. There is a character in that book, a woman who has a little girl who suffers from extreme vertigo, called BPPV. BPPV is “Benign Paroxysmal Positional Vertigo.” It is a common cause of “a feeling of spinning or dizziness. It’s triggered by changes in head position, especially when rolling over in bed, getting out of bed, or tilting the head. BPPV is caused by loose crystals in the inner ear that move into the wrong part of the balance system.” When the wave of dizziness hits, the book describes how the woman lays the little girl down with her head hanging over the edge of her bed (or, if they are out in public, over her mother’s arm), and then has her do a slow, timed series of movements that alleviate the condition. The action is called the Epley Maneuver. Loose crystals (called otoliths) have become displaced into the posterior canal of the inner ear, which makes the brain think that fluid is moving due to a head turn when it is, in fact, caused by the crystals. Since the fluid is moving even though the head is stationary, it brings on extreme dizziness. The Epley Maneuver attempts to reroute the crystals, moving them out of the canal so that the cause of the dizziness goes away. (Here is a YouTube video that explains the maneuver—if you search it on YouTube, you will find multiple demonstrations. https://youtu.be/o4GV-EbnMfI?si=1lzrDemwCgLayCR-)
In the book, the woman has a neighbor, a curmudgeonly old man with whom she has been feuding over various things for many years. But when he himself has an onset of BPPV, she kindly teaches him the Epley Maneuver.
When my friend told me about her distress and how severely this condition was impacting her day-to-day living, I remembered the scene from Prodigal Summer and shared the technique with her. She tried it and, after repeating it a few times over the next 24 hours, her BPPV subsided. From then on, when she felt it coming on, she would use the maneuver to avoid the onset of the attack.
It should be noted that if you google Ménière’s disease, it will tell you that treatments include diuretics (bad for you) and surgery, and that it’s incurable. I would never have discovered the Epley Maneuver if it hadn’t been for this novel by Kingsolver.
I reflected on this today when I was coming to the end of The Grey Wolf, the latest Armand Gamache mystery by Louise Penny. Armand muses on a quote he heard somewhere that, for me, perfectly epitomized the world we here in the States are living through under our current insane and oligarchic regime. It said,
Do not attribute to malice that which can be explained by stupidity.
It went on to note that there was plenty of malice to go around (yes, there is!), but that it was far outweighed by sheer stupidity. I am constantly reminding myself of this as political events unfold around us, and trying to hold onto the hope that the readers among us will prevail and both malice and stupidity will eventually subside.
Dog Day Afternoon
No, this isn’t a post about a 1975 bank robbery movie. But the title seemed appropriate, given that it’s National Dog Day and also that I am getting such a late start that my post won’t be available until after noon, one of those hot, sleepy afternoons when dogs (and people) prefer to lie around and languish (i.e., read!) during the summer heat. I did some pre-planning for this post by making a list of some pertinent dog-oriented books, but then my distracted brain failed to follow up, so a list is pretty much all you’re going to get this time. But don’t discount it just because it’s not elaborated upon; these are some great reads, encompassing fantasy, mystery, dystopian fiction, science fiction, some true stories, and a short list for children.
NOVELS FOR ADULTS (AND TEENS)
The Beka Cooper trilogy (Terrier, Bloodhound, Mastiff),
by Tamora Pierce
A Boy and His Dog at the End of the World, by C. A. Fletcher
Iron Mike, by Patricia Rose
A Dog’s Purpose, by W. Bruce Cameron
First Dog on Earth, by Irv Weinberg
The Companions, by Sheri S. Tepper
The Andy Carpenter mysteries, by David Rosenfelt
The Dog Stars, by Peter Heller
DOGGIE NONFICTION
Marley and Me: Life and Love with the World’s Worst Dog,
by John Grogan
Best Friends: The True Story of the World’s Most Beloved
Animal Sanctuary, by Samantha Glen
James Herriot’s Dog Stories, by James Herriot
A Three Dog Life, by Abigail Thomas
Inside of a Dog: What Dogs See, Smell, and Know,
by Alexandra Horowitz
CHILDREN’S BOOKS WITH DOGS
Sounder, by William H. Armstrong
No More Dead Dogs, by Gordon Korman
Harry the Dirty Dog books, by Gene Zion
(illustrator Margaret Bloy Graham)
Bark, George, by Jules Feiffer (one of the best for reading aloud!)
And for those who wanted more, here is an annotated list of more dog days books from a previous year, along with some suggestions for dog lovers that go beyond reading about them.
National Book Lovers’ Day
Here are some of the books I love. You are welcome to respond to this by listing some of the books you love, in the comments. These are not in any particular order, and it is by no means a complete list, just a random assortment—a combination of books that occur to me when “books you love” comes at me in a Facebook post, and a scan of my Goodreads files for five stars.)
The Terrorists of Irustan, by Louise Marley
Green Dolphin Street, by Elizabeth Goudge
The Wee Free Men (and sequels), by Terry Pratchett
To Say Nothing of the Dog, by Connie Willis
The Beka Cooper trilogy (Terrier, Bloodhound, Mastiff), by Tamora Pierce
The Queen’s Thief series, by Megan Whalen Turner
Found in a Bookshop, by Stephanie Butland
The Uncommon Reader, by Alan Bennett
The Obernewtyn Chronicles, by Isobelle Carmody
The Farseer books, by Robin Hobb
Strange the Dreamer, by Laini Taylor
Vicious, by V. E. Schwab
The Last Dragonslayer series, by Jasper Fforde
The Scorpio Races, by Maggie Stiefvater
Memory and Dream, by Charles de Lint
The Earthsea books, by Ursula K. LeGuin
Dispossessed, by Ursula K. LeGuin
The Blue Sword, by Robin McKinley
Mary Stewart’s Arthurian saga
The Snow Queen, by Joan D. Vinge
The Convenient Marriage, by Georgette Heyer
Tai-Pan, by James Clavell
The Persian Boy, by Mary Renault
The Rich Are Different, by Susan Howatch
In This House of Brede, by Rumer Godden
Random Harvest, by James Hilton
Holding Smoke, by Elle Cosimano
Lacey Flint mysteries, by Sharon Bolton
We Begin at the End, by Chris Whitaker
Harper Connelly mysteries, by Charlaine Harris
What Came Before He Shot Her, by Elizabeth George
Dublin Murder Squad books, by Tana French
The Fifth Sacred Thing, by Starhawk
Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, by Robert Pirsig
The Lock Artist, by Steve Hamilton
The Language of Flowers, by Vanessa Diffenbaugh
Demolition Angel, by Robert Crais
Kill the Messenger, by Tami Hoag
Hold Me Closer, Necromancer, by Lish McBride
Scarlet Feather, by Maeve Binchy
Coming Home, by Rosamunde Pilcher
The Far Pavilions, by M. M. Kaye
The Feast of All Saints, by Anne Rice
The Just City, by Jo Walton
The Family Tree, by Sheri S. Tepper
Dune, by Frank Herbert
Doomsday Book, by Connie Willis
Just to put these in a little further context: These are books with longevity (for me). That is to say, I didn’t just recognize their merit and give them five stars in the moment, I returned to them at least once and, in some cases, again and again to reread and re-experience the story-telling that is always the foremost in importance to me; and they are also books I tend to think of when someone else asks for a recommendation. So while some of them may be “significant” books while others may seem like trivial choices, for me they resonated somehow, enough that I wanted to revisit them myself and share them with others. And again, partial list! I’m sure there are some absolute gems I left out and will later think, Oops! how could I forget THAT one?
The books we keep
I live in a pretty small house, and I have a LOT of stuff, including books. I have always hung onto most of my books, but as I am looking to clear out some space, I’m drastically revising what I keep and what I release.
I have:
One bookcase in my studio, which has writing and art books, both how-to and inspirational, plus the books I use to research and teach my UCLA courses. I also have an entire packed shelf of Dover clip-art books from back in the day when you needed to paste down some vector art (or a photostat of same) in order to insert art into your newsletter, flyer, or whatever. Those could go, although I’d probably sit down and scan art from a large number of them, to save on my computer for future projects. Four shelves.
One bookcase in my living room, containing all my gardening and home arts books—architecture, building techniques (such as straw bale construction), interior design, quilting, and some art books that are also garden-related. Four shelves.
One china cabinet/hutch in my bedroom, that contains all my Young Adult Fiction books in the top half. Three shelves.
Three floor-to-almost-ceiling bookshelves, also in the bedroom, that contain all my other books, separated out into science fiction/fantasy, regular fiction, and nonfiction. Six shelves per bookcase = 18 shelves.
And then there are the piles of books—on the kitchen table, the dining room table, two side tables in the living room, the floor of the studio…
I keep accumulating them, but haven’t significantly cleared them out for several decades. Every once in a while I will put together about a box worth of those I didn’t enjoy or simply decided not to read, and give them to the library or to Vietnam Veterans to sell. But since I accumulate at almost the same speed, it hasn’t helped much.
Since the beginning of the pandemic, I have been either checking out or buying many e-books to read on my Kindle, so that has saved some shelf space. But it’s finally time to confront the overflow, eliminate the extraneous, and reorganize the rest tidily on (hopefully fewer) shelves.
My new deciding factor for whether to keep a book is going to be whether I realistically and sincerely believe that I will ever read it again. I have books that I have read multiple times and anticipate going back to a few more; I have books that I have read once and might enjoy reading again; and then there are the books I know I will never revisit.
It’s difficult, sometimes, because of things like sets. I have a complete set of similarly bound books by Elizabeth Goudge that I remember being so thrilled to discover at The Last Bookstore in downtown Los Angeles about three decades ago; but although they look pretty on the shelf, I expect I may reread one at most—I have outgrown my regard for them. So should I let the entire set go? I’m thinking yes, but it gives me a pang. I also have a few gifts from people looking to appeal to my hobby, but…my mom, for instance, never understood the difference between a reader and a collector, so she would go find me some beautiful old first edition of, say, the poems of Longfellow that I admire esthetically for its beautiful cover and ancient pages but will never read. And then there are a few beloved children’s books from my youth that I remember fondly but will probably never read again, and since I don’t have children with whom to share them…what to do?
When I embraced science fiction in my 20s, I collected every single title of such authors as Robert Heinlein, Frank Herbert, and Isaac Asimov, and it’s difficult (and nostalgic) to pick and choose the ones I really like vs. the ones I have just kept because it’s nice to feel like you have the entire oeuvre. But again, if I examine them in terms of what may be a re-read, then I can let go of most.
My hope is that when I box up everything I no longer need and the dust clears, I can actually get rid of one of the three big bookcases in the bedroom, to give me a little more room for other pursuits, like setting up my free-standing painter’s easel in the empty space.
One problem I foresee: When I really examine what’s on the shelves, there are also a number of missing volumes I’d selfishly love to fill in, especially in my young adult fiction collection. Since I worked in a library in the YA section for 11 years, I would mostly check out the books I wanted to read, with the result that I have numerous series for which I only own, say, #1 and #3 out of four books, or the first book but not its sequel. So—do I get rid of all, and simply pick them up from the library should I get the yen to read them? or do I fill in the set? Filling in could have a large impact!
This does seem like a proper task to ponder, initiate, and accomplish at the beginning of a new year. I’ll let you know how it goes…and if you have advice or a fresh perspective for me, feel free to comment!
My year in books
I finished my Goodreads Challenge a week early this year—115 books—and they sent me my stats, so I thought I’d share them, and look back on the things I read this year to see what stood out, what disappointed, and what was engaging but not overly compelling.
First of all, out of those 115 books, the shortest was 78 pages (an “in-between” novella inserted into a series by the author), and the longest was 848 pages. My total number of pages for the year was 37,627—but since I read another book after the challenge was over, I can up that to 38,001 just in time for the new year.
My “most shelved” book (meaning the one more people on Goodreads read than any other on my list) was It Ends With Us, by Colleen Hoover, which was emphatically not a favorite, but got the need to read at least one of her books (to see what the fuss is about) right out of my system. I have actually read two of them (Verity was the other), and that was enough. I am not her people, nor is she mine.
The “least shelved” (meaning, I guess, that no one on Goodreads knows who this author is, at least in this context) was The Affairs of Ashmore Castle, by Cynthia Harrod-Eagles, an author I know primarily for her mystery series featuring British detective Bill Slider (which I love). She is quite well known in her own country for writing a long saga, The Morland Dynasty, which family is established in book #1 during the Wars of the Roses and continues, as far as I can tell—barring any new books—to #35, which takes place between the World Wars in 1931. The Ashmore books are a new series for her.
My average rating over 115 books was 3.8, which seems generous in retrospect, considering that not many of those books were huge stand-outs for me; but I do tend to be kind with ratings except in the few instances when I am not! On Goodreads, the highest rated book that I read was Godsgrave, by Jay Kristoff, which somewhat surprises me; it’s a walloping good tale to which I personally gave five stars, but it’s both an oddball variant of fantasy and also incredibly violent and bloody, so it doesn’t seem like it would escape those to become highest rated. Kristoff’s fans are legion, however, so perhaps that’s the answer.
I only re-read 11 books this year, which is low for me, but belonging to the “What Should I Read Next?” Facebook group has influenced me in the direction of reading more new books and revisiting fewer nostalgia reads. As usual, about a third of my re-reads were by the inimitable Georgette Heyer.
So, let’s get into some specifics. FIVE-STAR STAND-ALONE BOOKS, in no particular order, were:
AKATA WITCH and its sequel, AKATA WARRIOR, by Nnedi Okorafor
MARY JANE, by Jessica Anya Blau (a coming-of-age charmer set in the years of my youth)
WE BEGIN AT THE END, by Chris Whitaker (tragically compelling)
THE ONCE AND FUTURE WITCHES, by Alix E. Harrow
THE TEN THOUSAND DOORS OF JANUARY, also by Alix E. Harrow
BOOK LOVERS, by Emily Henry (turning a trope on its head)
LITTLE SECRETS, by Jennifer Hillier (best suspense/thriller I’ve read in a while!)
JAR OF HEARTS, also by Jennifer Hillier
HOLDING SMOKE, by Elle Cosimano (a re-read of a YA fave)
BIG LIES IN A SMALL TOWN, by Diane Chamberlain
FIVE-STARS that were PART OF A SERIES included:
NEVERNIGHT, by Jay Kristoff (first in an intense science fiction trilogy)
DRAGON AND THIEF, by Timothy Zahn (first in a delightful space opera YA series)
FINLAY DONOVAN IS KILLING IT, by Elle Cosimano (#1 of a trilogy about an author who is mistaken for a contract killer, 3rd book to come out January 31st)
The INTERDEPENDENCY trilogy, by John Scalzi (science fiction that is both thoughtful and humorous)
OTHER BOOKS I particularly enjoyed, even though they had lower ratings, for various reasons:
The ASHMORE CASTLE series (I read the first two books, which is all there are for now), by Cynthia Harrod-Eagles
The CHESAPEAKE BAY SAGA (four books), by Nora Roberts
STATION ELEVEN, by Emily St. John Mandel (love a good dystopian)
MOXIE, by Jennifer Mathieu (YA girl empowerment)
Dervla McTiernan’s stand-alone, THE MURDER RULE
THINGS WE DO IN THE DARK, by Jennifer Hillier
and my last book of the year, RAVEN BLACK, by Ann Cleves, first in her Shetland Island series.
And those are the highlights of my year in reading! I have written/published reviews of all of the books I mentioned here, so if anything piques your interest, go to the search box (“Search this site” at the top right under my logo and description), put in a title or an author, and find out why I called out these favorites.
The Book Adept 