Truth and Beauty

I finished reading "Truth and Beauty" by Ann Patchett this weekend, and I was disappointed by it -- but oddly inspired. Maybe I went into it with a prejudice. I didn't like the title -- I thought that perhaps Patchett was calling herself Beauty to Lucy Grealy's Truth. Lucy Grealy, who died about 3 years ago of an accidental heroin overdose, was a poet and a writer. Her most famous book, Autobiography of a Face, tells of her difficult life after she lost nearly all of her lower jaw to cancer as a child. Despite many attempts to regrow bone there, no sugeries worked, and her face was misshapen and scarred. So, I thought, how vain of Patchett to use this title in her book about her friendship with Grealy. Was she calling herself Beauty to Grealy's Truth?

Unfortunately, I wasn't that far off the mark. The book is about how good Patchett was to Grealy. How she cared for her. How she paid Grealy's bills or ran to her when ever Grealy wanted. It's about how Patchett knew Grealy would die from heroin. Patchett makes the analogy of her being the ant to Grealy's grasshopper (rent A Bug's Life... it's better), but I think she also was glorifying herself.

Coincidently, moments after finishing the book, I read an essay Patchett wrote for either Real Simple or 0 (Oprah's magazine) about beauty. (NB: We were returning from a weekend trip to Delaware, counting the cars on the New Jersey Turnpike as it were, and I had a pile of magazines and books with me and don't recall which magazine it was in. So, it truly was a coincidence -- or a moment of synchronicity -- to finish one and then find the other.)

In the essay Patchett wrote about how ideals of beauty differ by state. She's lived in many parts of the country and said she never felt really beautiful until she lived in Montana, where she could be her natural self. Uh-huh. OK.

Here's where the inspiration comes: My mind traveled from beauty to narcissism to creativity. And I think that the last two are closely related. There's a belief that the greatest creative minds are somewhat depressed and that imbalance enhances their creativity. Here's another thought: Those with great creativy must be somewhat vain, while also being incredibly self-conscious (same thing?). It takes a certain about of belief in yourself, hampered by overarching doubt at other times, to transfer ideas and thoughts to writing and painting and music. (Remember, paranoia and vanity are two sides of the same coin.)

(Talk about narcissism: I believe Oprah has appeared on every cover of her magazine. That's at least 60 issues. Does she do it because she believes only her face can sell the magazine? Because that's what the advertisers want? Because she likes seeing her face on the cover?)

I had hoped to discuss what makes a person beautiful. But now I want to hear thoughts on creativity.

I Believe in Magic

In reponse to Tommy's question below, no, I have not yet read Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell. But I really want to. It sits and stares at me from the top shelf of what was once my "books to read" bookcase. But that bookcase became overloaded, and I moved nearly all those books and now it's just sitting there between Harry Potter and Lemony Snicket.

I'm reading five books right now... Truth and Beauty by Ann Patchett, R Is for Ricochet by Sue Grafton, A Short History of Nearly Everything by Bill Bryson, Quicksilver by Neal Stephenson and Witch Hunt by Ian Rankin. (Actually, I don't know where Witch Hunt is, so maybe I don't have to count it... It's not an Inspector Rebus novel and I'm not sure I like it.)

Quicksilver is awfully long, and though size usually doesn't matter (when it comes to books), in this case, the length is a bit off-putting. The text is dense. I'm in the middle of the middle section, which most reviewers said they liked best, but I found the first part about Daniel Waterhouse and Isaac Newton far more interesting. I love the goings-on of the Royal Society and may just skim the middle part of the book to get quickly back to Daniel.

I will be done with Truth and Beauty soon. Ditto for R Is for Ricochet. Then I will start Jonathan Strange.

I hope Tommy will give us a post about it.

I'm delighted to know that Tommy loves the Lord of the Rings. When I was a teenager, I read the trilogy each summer. (Oddly enough, I also read Little Women each summer.) I like to think that I'm one of the few people in the world who has also read The Silmarillion. I casted the Lord of the Rings movie several times in my head and I always got to play Eowyn. (But Mirando Otto would have been my next choice.)

I spent most of the teenage-hood reading fantasy novels (but not playing Dungeons and Dragons). Mostly I read the titles Del Rey put out. Terry Brooks. David Eddings. Anything that retold the Arthurian saga. Among my favorite books is The Mists of Avalon. I even read most of Piers Anthony... until I realized how sexist his Xanth world is. Teenage boys fantasies, I guess.
I've read much of Heinlein. And I started -- and loved -- the Wheel of Time Robert Jordan series. But after awhile, not much was happening, so I haven't read at least the last two. Maybe the last three. I lost track.

So, Tommy. There it is. I'm very much looking forward to Jonathan Strange, not in the least part because it supposedly has a lot of footnotes, and I believe in magic.

Lucky Me

I'm very lucky: I get to read for a living. Oh, sure, the subject matter I read most days isn't what I'd choose to read (I'm managing editor for a couple of high-tech trade magazines.... Network Computing, Secure Enterprise...). But I get to work with words and read. And I love to read.

I used to read approximately 2 novels a week. I don't do as well now ... not with two boys, a husband, four cats, a full-time job, a really, really messy apartment, and my new-found knitting, crocheting and playing with my iPod hobbies (not to mention reading other people's blogs). But I have read and am reading a bunch of good books. I think this is nearly a complete list of what I've read this year:

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Harry and the Half-Blood Prince, all by J.K. Rowling. I re-read Goblet and Phoenx, actually, so that I would remember what was going on before Prince came out. I know many are disappointed by the latest book. Too much snogging. Not enough plot. But I love Harry.

A Question of Blood and Fleshmarket Alley, by my favorite author Ian Rankin. These are mysteries in the sub-genre of police procedurals (made famous by Ed McBain, who sadly passed away recently). I LOVE Ian Rankin. His protagonist -- John Rebus -- is a Scottish police detective (I'm not sure what the right term is) who is often depressed and drunk (but not as often as he used to be), but thoughtful and intelligent and spiritual too.

With No One as Witness, by Elizabeth George. Also a police procedural, but this time set in London. This, the latest book in the series, kills of a rather important character and I couldn't stop crying after I read the book. Not so much for that person's death but because of the way others felt afterward. (Quite a few of the Elizabeth George books have been featured on the PBS series Mystery, but the last two broadcast were not based on any of her books, but just on the characters, whom they've altered to make more telegenic. I won't watch them.)

The Jane Austen Book Club, by Karen Joy Fowler (each of Austen's books is reflected in the lives the characters -- enjoyable if you like Austen, and you know I do.)
Live of Pi, by Yann Martel (good book... Pi is a Hindu-Catholic-Muslim who survives a cross-Pacific trip in a life raft with a Bengal tiger)
The Magician's Assistant, by Anne Patchett (melancholy and very sweet. can't wait to read her Bel Canto)
Saturday, by Ian McEwan (the effects of terrorism on an English doctor and his family a year or so after 9/11)
Vox, by Nicholas Baker (one long phone-sex conversation. it's actually a good piece of erotica)
Confessions of Mycroft Holmes by Marcel Theroux (I'm embarrassed to admit that I'm not actually sure if I finished this)

I think there are more, but this is all I can remember ... and some sweaty boys are coming in from outside...

An Idea

The author Nick Hornby (High Fidelity, About a Boy, Fever Pitch) writes a column for The Believer titled, "Stuff I've Been Reading." In it, he discusses the books he's read and the books he's bought and even the books he's planning to read. I'd like to have a similar setup with this blog. I've invited several people to post here and tell us all about books they've read, music they enjoy and anything else that has inspired them recently.

I'm not much for book clubs and typically don't like discussing the books I've read. I tend to hold those thoughts inside. But I'd like to try this experiment. It would be nice to share some things. And to hear what you're reading.

I've invited a diverse group to post here. If you'd like to be permanently listed as contributor, let me know and we'll figure out how to do that (I think you'll need a blogspot ID). Or, if you're feeling shy, you can post comments anonymously. The idea isn't to criticize each other, but rather to share ideas and inspiration.