Today I was asked by the librarians to have my picture taken with my favorite book. All teachers are participating; I think they are making posters for the library.
This question - the favorite book question - is impossible. Favorite book...as in today? Yesterday? This month? Two years ago?
I started rereading Interpreter of Maladies last night by Jhumpa Lahiri and decided to give her my vote. I went with The Namesake for the poster.
Despite my fear of getting spammed again, I am interested to know how others would answer this question. If you can get through all the security measures I've now put in place, do post a favorite.
4 comments:
I have two that I'll go with off the top of my head:
_Letters to a Young Poet_ by Rilke, and _The Art Spirit_ by Robert Henri. It's been a while since I've read both, but they were so so good. And also _Charlotte's Web_ is on the all-time favorite list for me.
Maura, I have this vivid memory of studying for the MA comps with copies of your notes (thanks for those, by the way!) and coming across a note from you on Whitman's _Leaves of Grass_, in which you said it was the book you would take with you if stuck on a deserted island. I wonder if he is still at the top of your list. It was definitely an inspiring moment during an otherwise miserable summer of studying. So thanks!
asking an english graduate student this question is a bad idea (because at this point i hate reading in a way that i never, ever anticipated, i.e. you got out at the right time Lemon), but here are some greatest hits:
1. interpreter of maladies. the first and last stories make me cry
2. portrait of a lady (back again to MA comps)
3. and my old stand-by favorite that i've only ever been able to convince one other person to read: ian frazier's _Family_
That's so funny! I definitely still love Whitman. But I feel sort of juvenile now whenever I mention my love for _Leaves of Grass_. I would still covertly stuff it into my bag of must takes, though, when actually none of the books I mentioned above would go. Then I would read it outloud when I had a spare chance alone (though I guess I would probably be alone most of the time on a desert island, come to think of it) and I would cry about how lovely it all was. I don't know what it is about him. There are too many lists, too many details, but when he says things like houses and rooms are full of perfumes and I heard what the talkers are talking, I just want to cry. It's completely irrational and ridiculous but that's just what happens. his writing makes me more happy and more unafraid of death and loss and change than anything I've ever read.
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