Books, the year in review. (Post idea stolen from April.)

I've been inspired to revisit the books I've read in 2008 by April, who undoubtedly has way better taste than I do. But any excuse to talk about books, especially ones I've actually read, is certainly welcome.

1. A People's History of the United States by Howard Zinn

2. Ahab's Wife by Sena Jeter Naslund

3. An Arsonist's Guide to Writers' Homes in New England by Brock Clarke (excellent book, you should read it.)

4. The Golden Notebook by Doris Lessing (Anything by her is good.)

5. Anansi Boys by Neil Gaiman

6. The Cleft by Doris Lessing

7. Indian Killer by Sherman Alexie

8. Persepolis by Marjane Satrapi (One of my favs from 2008 -- one of the few book-to-movie translations that didn't blow.)

9. Naked by David Sedaris (Meh.)

10. The McSweeney's Joke Book of Book Jokes

11. The Undertaking by Thomas Lynch

12. Red Earth and Pouring Rain by Vikram Chandra (Again, one of my favorites.)

13. Indira Gandhi: A Personal and Political Biography by Inder Malhotra

14. Snow by Orhan Pamuk

15. Walt Whitman's America by David S. Reynolds

16. The Savage Detectives by Roberto Bolano (Surprisingly awesome. I look forward to reading more by him.)

17. India by Stanley Wolpert

18. Lilith's Brood by Octavia Butler (I devoured this three-book omnibus like a starving snow leopard eats a dying mountain goat.)

19. The Grass is Singing by Doris Lessing

20. White Teeth by Zadie Smith (Ever since I read this book [which totally lives up to the hype] I've seen her EVERYWHERE in magazines.)

21. Can't Stop Won't Stop: A History of the Hip Hop Generation by Jeffrey Chang

22. Death Comes for the Archbishop by Willa Cather

23. The House of the Spirits by Isabell Allende

24. A Mercy by Toni Morrison (Cue choir of angels singing.)

25. The Collected Essays of E.B. White 

26. Wicked by Gregory McGuire

27. Son of a Witch by Gregory McGuire

28. Fury by Salman Rushdie (#1 choice for the year, it's awesome)

29. Proust and the Squid by Maryanne Wolf

30. The Know it All by A.J. Jacobs

Along with various works in literature anthologies, and entries from literature dictionaries and critical works in the course of studying for my GRE, which earned me the awesome score of ... look! A chicken! 

White Christmas

Fifteen years ago, on Dec 23, my Grampa Schaefer died. It was hard for my parents to lose him, but I'm sure it was compounded by having two young kids to bundle up to take to Iowa for the funeral at Christmastime.

I remember feeling sad not necessarily from a personal sense of loss (I was only ten and only knew Grampa through a few visits) but rather from a realization that death had affected my world for the first time. We got to open presents early that year, before leaving for Waterloo. I got a stuffed polar bear holding a Coke bottle, and probably some other toys. And Charlotte's Web, a book that would soon become my favorite.

I read that book on the way to Iowa with a concentration that resembled a religious trance. I was bundled in blankets and snow boots next to my sister Katie, warm except for the occasional icy contact with the frosty backseat window.

The funeral went as most big-family funerals go through the eyes of a child -- chaotic, confusing, but always safe. There was always somebody there to explain to the kids. Yes, grampa is still dead, my uncle explained, much to the surprise of my young cousin, Brittany. Yet the best part of a big family funeral is that it's not always sad. There are much needed breaks to the sadness. Get a big group of Schaefers together, and there will always be two things: strong coffee and funny family stories. I learned a lot from those stories, including that Schaefers were farmers.

Wait ... farmers? Like in Charlotte's Web? Even pig farmers, just like Mr. Zuckerman! My life suddenly became like the book I was growing to love.

After my grampa died, life went pretty much back to normal. I grew, learned more about my family. Like the fact that Great Grampa Schaefer had hogs (not pigs) on his farm. There's a difference. And none of them were named Wilbur. I also went on to bigger and more grown up books. But Charlotte's Web always stayed on the shelf. It's still there today.

Every year around Christmastime, along with the presents, food and games, we usually end up telling "Ol' Grampa" stories. My dad especially seems to think of him more and more as he gets older. I'm sad that I cant' remember Grampa as well as other members of my family, but I remember vividly the connection I felt with him and my history through the catalyst of Charlotte's Web that Christmas.

That may have been what compelled me, this December, to pick up EB White's collected essays. I wasn't expecting to recapture the feelings that only a child can have with her first favorite book. But i was curious to see if what White had to say to adults could be as meaningful as what he said to young people.

While I was right about not having that "Oh my god this book is about my LIFE" feeling, I was pleased by the simplicity, subtle humor and beauty of his essays. I especially loved the essays taking place on his small farm in Maine -- kind of a grown up version of his famous children's' classics.

I'm not fooling myself -- I couldn't make it on a farm today, let alone in the 30s and 40s. And I know that farming has its hardships. It's not all idyllic strolls and wholesome fun. But I feel a kind of connection, a kind of longing to experience nature, farms, animals as White did. As my dad, his dad and his dad's dad experienced it. My White-fueled pastoral fantasies are a good relief from a life that can feel so polluted, so complicated and so tiring.

More Knitting

I know, it gets annoying, but I'm pretty proud of this scarf. Cables everywhere!