Wednesday, January 31, 2018

Tuesday, January 30, 2018

101 Books, Number 50




50: My Ántonia, 1918, by Willa Cather (1873–1947)

I taught this book some years ago*—
And had not read much Cather then.
And, oh, was there a lot to know!
But I had energy, back then.

And so, Nebraska, here we come!
New Hampshire,** too (her grave is there)
And Grand Manan*** … I grew less dumb—
And soon began so much to care.

I read her books—yes, every one.
And read her published letters, too.
In fact, the latter? Letters? Fun!
A title I got to review.****

There really is no journey like
A trip through someone’s work and days—
A trip upon an awesome pike
Where every vista can amaze.

*Fall, 2005, our “summer reading” book for juniors at Western Reserve Academy
**She’s buried in the Old Burying Ground; Jaffrey, NH.
***An island in the Bay of Fundy (off New Brunswick); she had a summer cottage there (still standing—we saw it).
****The Selected Letters of Willa Cather; I reviewed it for the Cleveland Plain Dealer, April 14, 2013.

Sunday, January 28, 2018

101 Books: Halfway



Halfway Point: Between 51 and 50

I’ve reached the point—about halfway—
In this my journey through these books—
The ones I’ve read for work, for play,
The ones so worth their second looks.

Again—there is no order to
This list. As they occur to me—
That’s how I give them all to you—
And, just remember, all is free!

A hundred one—that’s quite a lot—
And each has meant so very much.
Those webs of words—well, me they caught.
They’ve had, for me, the magic touch.

So, buckle up! We’ve miles to go
Before we sleep and wake again.
And one thing I have hoped to show:
I loved them all, both thick and thin.

101 Books, Number 51



51: The Poems of Emily Dickinson, 1999, Emily Dickinson (1830–86)

I read her poems long before
This volume came along.
(A friend and I converted one
Into a (sort of) song.)*

I’ve memorized a lot of hers—
A dozen? Or a score?
I wish my sad old brain had room
For many, many more.

Remarkable, her language, for
She uses words so few,
But she had  mastered language, and 
She knew just what to do.

She scanned the universe—a task
That is so very hard.
She did so from the confines of
Her very own backyard.

Intelligent? A genius? Yes!
She found where language starts—
Begins with feeling and with thought—
Then moves into our hearts

In lines of hers so perfect that
There is no other way
To transfer to our hearts what her
Pure genius had to say.

*College roommate Chuck Rodgers and I did “If You Were Coming in the Fall.”

Saturday, January 27, 2018

101 Books, Number 52



52: Arrowsmith, 1925, by Sinclair Lewis (1885-1951)

I read this book in high school—why?
I wasn’t such a reading guy
Back in those ancient days gone by.

So ... Arrowsmith—a doctor, Yo,
Who did his research so he’d know
What drugs were yes, what drugs were no.

A plague arrived—he found a cure—
And he could really not endure
Those doctors who were purely pure

And wanted to, well, test some more
Before they used it—What a corps
Of cowards! So our hero swore

That he would use it—use it now!
And cure the multitudes—and—wow!—
It worked—he’d known it would, somehow.

I later saw his boyhood town*—
And read the works that brought renown**—
A few remain—I’ll buckle down ...

… And read them.

*Sauk Centre, Minn.; we visited on July 1, 2006
**Main Street, Babbitt, It Can’t Happen Here, etc.

Friday, January 26, 2018

101 Books, Number 53


53: The Colossus of New York, 2003, by Colson Whitehead (1969–)

2003. The first I read
By Whitehead—such a gifted man.*
So I make sure I find the bread
To buy his new ones when I can.

His sentences just dazzle me—
He breaks the rules—creates some new—
Oh, he eschews conformity
And blazes trails toward the true.

I have not read quite everything
That he has published—well, not yet
But I will do so—his lines sing
Before my sun of life has set.

*His most recent novel, The Underground Railroad, 2016, won both the National Book Award for Fiction and the Pulitzer Prize.

Thursday, January 25, 2018

101 Books, Number 54



54: Ever Since Darwin, 1977, by Stephen Jay Gould (1941–2002)

I read so much of Stephen Gould—
Those essays were superior.
And though I was inferior
In science, Gould me coolly schooled.

Of course I didn’t understand,
Well, everything he wrote about.
But through his work I would find out
’Bout evolution (secondhand).

I wrote to him—and he wrote back—
About a novel set back when—
A prehistoric tale—our kin!
By that old writer: London, Jack.*

That letter now hangs on my wall—
It’s framed so that the thing will last
No matter how much time has passed—
A Gould-ian kind of curtain call.

He died so young—it’s just not fair
That people who have much to teach
Are soon so far beyond our reach—
We need to breathe their air so rare.

*Before Adam, 1907; Gould replied to my letter about Before Adam on July 13, 1999

Wednesday, January 24, 2018

101 Books, Number 55



55: The Complete Essays, 1580,* by Michel de Montaigne (1533–1592)

I read them all—2010.
A little bit each day.**
The book was thick, and this, I thought,
Would be the only way.

A teaching colleague*** (friend!) and I
This journey well commenced,
And soon we learned what this great man
Was for and was against.

He wrote about so many things—
Some major, some so small
That you might hardly think that they
Were worth essays at all.

And when we finished, I’d been schooled
About so very much—
Like writing, thinking, feeling … Life!
Oh, such an artist’s touch!

(That dude had really quite a brain
Well worth the work to read Montaigne!)

*I read the Penguin Classics edition, 1993—in English (sigh); pic shows my copy.
**10 pp/day
*** Nick Lewis, Western Reserve Academy

Tuesday, January 23, 2018

101 Books, Number 56



56: Moby-Dick, 1851, by Herman Melville (1819–1891)

I read this book in study hall—
That’s right—in high school (took a while).
I couldn’t understand it all—
And not a lot there made me smile.

I’d read it as a comic book*—
The pictures really helped a lot!
The movie** had a certain “look,”
And soon enough, well, I was caught.

I’ve read that book—again, again—
And every time it seems so … new.
I see the humor—mourn the men—
Perhaps again I’ll read it through?

I’ve seen the grave where Melville lies***—
I’ve seen the farm**** where Melville wrote
The book—I’ve seen Nantucket’s skies.
I’ve sailed the Pequod (fatal boat) …

Well, in my mind I have done so.
I’ve read his other books—yes, all.
But still remains so much to know
About that book—and Ahab’s fall.

*Classics Illustrated, 1942
**Moby-Dick, 1956, directed by John Huston, starring Gregory Peck as Capt. Ahab
*** Woodlawn Cemetery; the Bronx, NY
**** Arrowhead, his farm in Pittsfield, Mass., now a museum

Monday, January 22, 2018

101 Books, Number 57



57: The Dragons of Eden: Speculations on the Evolution of Human Intelligence, 1977, by Carl Sagan (1934–96)

Yes, Dragons was the first I read
From Carl Sagan’s pen.*
I read his many others, too—
He changed what I had been.

He had a very graceful way,
Explaining things to me.
I couldn’t wait to read his next—
I knew he’d help me see.

Oh, I won’t claim I understood
The total of his words.
For some of what he wrote, I fear,
Flew off like startled birds

Before I’d heard what those rare fowl
Were singing all about.
Oh well—I tried—just give me that—
I promise not to pout.

He died too young—oh, far too young.
So much was left to teach.
But Sagan—I will give him this
Extended my short reach!

*He probably didn’t use a pen—but a good rhyming word!

Sunday, January 21, 2018

101 Books, Number 58



58: The Blessing Way, 1970, by Tony Hillerman (1925–2008)

These Leaphorn books ensnared me—fast.
I read them one and all.
But have not read the new ones that
His daughter writes (the gall!).*

Tribal police—the Navajo—
The Southwest—murder there!
But Leaphorn—Chee—they solve the crimes
In bloody desert air.

I met him once—yes, Hillerman,
A bookstore signing date.**
I got to talk with him awhile—
Oh, such is fortune, fate.

I mourned to hear that he had died—
Oh, such a grievous loss.
Oh, no more Leaphorn! No more Chee!
How can I get across

How literary loss can be
As bad—or nearly so—
As actual death in this, “real” life?
I’m betting that you know!

*I don’t like reading series books written by others who pick up the task when the original author has died.
**Barnes & Noble; Montrose, Ohio; June 5, 2004

Saturday, January 20, 2018

101 Books, Number 59


59: Jack London: An American Life, 2013 , by Earle Labor (1928–)

I owe so very much to him*—
He gave life to my London life.
And so I’ll go out on a limb—
I’ll pound the drum and play the fife

In celebration of his scholarship—
His friendship, generosity.
He caught me when I’d nearly slip—
My eyes he opened so I’d see.

A 1990 seminar
With Earle and others paved the way
For me to travel, near and far—
The Yukon, San Francisco Bay—

Oh, all those places London saw
And wrote his many books about.
The frozen North, the cold so raw—
Oh, there cannot be any doubt

Yes, Earle had launched me on a quest
To learn and read and travel on.
So as an influence? Just the best.
I owe him, deeply. He was dawn.

*I wrote and published several books about London—Earle-inspired: a YA biography of Jack London (1998), annotated editions of The Call of the Wild (1995, 1997)

Friday, January 19, 2018

101 Books, Number 60


60: The Fixed Period, 1882, by Anthony Trollope (1815–1882)

Its kind of cheating—yes, I know—
A second Trollope novel, Yo.

But this one is so very odd—
A time when people act like God,

Decide how long a life should be—
Then end it (somewhat mercifully)

If it exceeds allotted time—
Which seems, of course, a moral crime.

But all goes well—until the first
Achieve the age and in a burst

Of opposition cry, “No way!
I do not want to die today!”

So what ensues? I will not tell
Just read to see if all is well!

Thursday, January 18, 2018

101 Books, Number 61



61: Election, 1998, by Tom Perrotta (1961–)

This is the book that started me
On my fine happy journey through
Perrotta’s work. I’d gone to see
The film,* but really had no clue

That movie would bring on the book—
And that the book would bring much more—
Oh, such a gleeful time I took
Afloat on prose—oh, did it soar!

I’ve read them all since ’98–
And buy the next when it appears.
(Okay, not all of them are great—
But some bring laughter; others, tears.)

Perrotta is a favorite now—
Oh, one of many—this I know.
And I have taken such a vow:
Not one of them will I forego!

*Election, 1999, with Matthew Broderick and Reese Witherspoon (link to film trailer)


Wednesday, January 17, 2018

101 Books, Number 62



62: The Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley,* 198088, ed. Betty Bennett (19352006)

I read these letters early on—
I’d only just begun
My Mary Shelley research life—
And still I am not done!

Professor Bennett—what a job
She did with these rare texts!
I gobbled each—nutritious food!—
Then moved on to the next.

The annotations—marvelous.
The insights keen and rare.
The more I read, the more I thought,
The more I came to care.

And soon a correspondence with
Professor Bennett I
Commenced. And she was such a help!
I was a lucky guy.

The Shelley World lost such a friend
When Betty passed away.
I miss her books—her email, too.
I long to hear her say

Yet one more thing about the life
Of Mary Shelley and
The others who composed her world
Who formed that magic land.

*Mary Shelley (17971851)

Tuesday, January 16, 2018

101 Books, Number 63



63: The Kid Comes Back, 1946, by John R. Tunis (1889–1975)

Roy Tucker was the “kid,” the one
Who lived and who “came back.”
He’d served in World War II—
Survived a bad attack.

Back to the Brooklyn Dodgers he
Returned—but problems rose:
His injury had slowed his game—
So what do you suppose?

He underwent some therapy;
Improved a lot (surprise?)
And roared back to the game he loved—
What perseverance buys!

I loved this book in boyhood—
I read it many times.
Re-reading this fine baseball book?
The least of boyhood crimes!

Monday, January 15, 2018

101 Books, Number 64



64: Savage Beauty: The Life of Edna St. Vincent Millay, 2001, by Nancy Milford (1938–)

This is a title I reviewed—
And here I think it’s best to say
I had a poor, dim attitude
About this poet named Millay*

Until and read this book—and then
I dived into Millay’s rich verse
And realized that I had been
A fool of sorts (just hear me curse!).

She’d fallen out of favor in
The academic world, so she
Had disappeared, I fear, back when
I had been studying poetry.

But as I read of her wild life—
Her gifts and, yes, of course, her fame—
Her less-than-loyal years as wife—
About that puzzling middle name**—

I realized I’d much to learn—
And so my reading years commenced—
For books remain the way to earn
The best of things, I am convinced.

And Milford’s text is full—alive—
The way I love biography—
You read the thing—and you arrive
At Truth—or close as you can be.

*1892–1950
**the “St. Vincent” part of her name—for the hospital that had saved the life of a relative

Sunday, January 14, 2018

101 Books, Number 65



65: Cross Country, 2006, by Robert Sullivan (1963–)

It’s got the greatest subtitle*
Since days of long ago—
Too long for me to reproduce—
And … rhyming problems, Yo!

I loved this book—for it brought back
The road trips I have done—
Throughout my life, those trips have been
The purest kind of fun.

I liked this book so much that I
Read all his others, too.
He writes of rats and whales and folks
As weirdly weird as you!

I coaxed him to come to our school,**
And here he spent a day
With classes—an assembly talk—
A pleasure, every way.

I read his books when they come out—
The day that they arrive,
For he creates a Wonder Pool—
And into it I dive!

*Fifteen Years and 90,000 Miles on the Roads and Interstates of America with Lewis and Clark, a Lot of Bad Motels, a Moving Van, Emily Post, Jack Kerouac, My Wife, My Mother-in-Law, Two Kids, and Enough Coffee to Kill an Elephant

**Western Reserve Academy, April 14–15, 2009