The books other readers might recommend don’t always turn into my idea of a best seller. But the only way to finds out is to give it a whirl.
More often than not, the suggestion turns into a bust and I don’t have the heart to tell them the truth.
“So how did you like that book I recommended?” my friend said the other day. “Quite the summertime sizzler, eh?”
I’m not into sex novels. Nor do I particularly care for romance, unless it makes an impact. Eric Segal’s Love Story was so enjoyable I read it twice, saw the movie, and have played the score.
The last book I finished a week ago wasn’t exactly a page-turner but did hold my interest a teeny bit. I’m not big on Janet Evanovich. In fact I had never read anything by her until I stumbled across a book titled Manhunt about a female executive on Wall Street who gives up her job and high-rise apartment for a hardware store and log cabin in the wilds of Alaska. Quite predictable at the end.
At the moment, I’m into Bill Irwin’s book Blind Courage, about a blind man hiking the Appalachian Trail. I followed a buddy’s recommendation and got it at my local library. Both of us are hikers and enjoy challenging adversity in our climbs. He figured this was right up my alley.
But for the most part, what others may read and what I like are on opposite pages.
Forgive me if I admit to being opposed to non-fiction. I don’t find it entertaining enough to suit my pleasure. Instead, give me a good James Patterson mystery and I’m right at home. I like the short chapters in his books and the unexpected twists and turns. The more I read Patterson, the better I like him.
I read all of Nicholas Sparks’ books, including his latest, The Last Song. I take my books to the fitness center, get on a treadmill, and read through a workout. Makes the time pass by more efficiently. And when people see you with a book, they’re not apt to talk your ear off.
Mitch Albom can be considered a favorite of mine, especially with his first book Tuesdays with Morrie, which stole my heart. He has not written a bad read.
I’m also sold on the Chicken Soup series and have been known to shed a tear of joy at some of these episodes. They’re short, sweet, and poignant in portraying the human condition.
By now, you must think I’m a reading fanatic. Not so. I was never really into books as a child and seldom read anything assigned by my teachers. I remember the first book I ever read in high school by JD Salinger called Catcher in the Rye.
I read Peter Benchley’s Jaws twice but am still waiting to read Pasternak’s Doctor Zhivago after watching the movie a dozen times.
I went through the William Saroyan phase and was enamored by his Daring Young Man on the Flying Trapeze. If anyone had an impact on my writing career, it was Saroyan, who turned down the Pulitzer Prize for Literature because his reward came in entertaining others, not money.
As my children came along, I gravitated toward their books. One of my favorite moments was reading to my children at bedtime. God forbid if I missed a page. They would let me know.
My reading accelerated with my brief military service and intensified when I entered college. My journalism professor was a stickler for books. I was never a speed reader and to this day am apt to re-read a paragraph to maintain continuity.
“Read as many writers as you can and pay attention to their styles,” my professor told his class. “Then go out and develop a style of your own.”
My cousin reads five books a week. The housework may be delayed, the cooking and other chores wait their turn until she finishes her story. She’s compiled a list of 2,000 books read over her adult life and constantly discovers new authors.
She’s into Grisham and Ludlum. I am not. She’ll try to convince me to join her book club while I have my own. We’ll spar with our favorites until it reaches a point of delirium. I still can’t read the woman—or any of her suggestions.
My idea of reading should be calculated, given the time spent between the pages. Those who don’t read good books have no advantage over those who can’t or won’t read them.
My favorite book of all-time, you might ask? Well, it’s my scrapbook, and locked inside its pages are a lifetime of memories.
Tom Vartabedian
Latest posts by Tom Vartabedian (see all)
- Vartabedian: My Final Column - November 13, 2016
- A Hat to Match Any Occasion - October 19, 2016
- More Smiles Keep the Frowns Away - October 12, 2016
Dear Tom
Do you like poetry?
Kindly express your opinion.
Regards,
Sylva
Hi Sylva — Thanks for asking. I do like poerty but if there’s a choice between the two, I’ll go with fiction. Two of my favorite poets are Frost and Whittier (from my hometown). They touch the human condition. I believe there’s a valued place in our literary souls for both mediums. Tom V