Tag: book jackets

Cousin Pons to the rescue

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Cousin Pons book cover
This is the Cousin Pons book cover. Elegant, don’t you think? This edition was published in the US in 1950.

I was super excited to pick up three paperbacks at off-beat independent bookstores recently: The Dog of the South by Charles Portis, The Human Stain by Philip Roth and Cruising Paradise by Sam Shepard. I read the Roth book and did not like the plot or characters at all, but his writing style captured my attention. I bet he was never edited because he goes on and on. Anyway, since he died kind of recently, I wanted to remind myself why so many people think he’s great. I’m not a fan.

I like The Dog of the South mostly because it’s funny, but now that I’m further into it, the story is feeling superficial, as if it was written really fast. Only the Sam Shepard book is surviving my picky judgement. It’s got humor, good writing, unpredictable characters and … a lot of feeling.

In the middle of a recent hot Sunday, I wanted not just good but great writing to help me escape into another world, and I did not trust any modern writer to have this ability. So I turned to the shelf where I keep a lot of books from my parents’ house. These books are dusty and old, really old.

I pulled out Cousin Pons by De Balzac. Some people are crazy for him, so I opened it up.

Divine writing. Superb.

I’m swept up into the minute description of the curious clothing worn Sylvain Pons as he walks down the boulevard to the amusement of Parisian onlookers. This goes on for pages and it’s utterly compelling. I can’t break down the elements of this style, but I am so happy, and relieved, to be carried along by such a fine writer.

I will let you know how it holds up as I keep going, but something tells me it will.

 

Go ahead, judge books by their covers

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An Inordinate Fondness for Beetles

I judge books by their covers — who doesn’t, really? I fell in love with this cover and the book has lived up to its promise. It makes the subject of these creepy things totally fascinating.

Sentences like this intrigue me, whether I understand the material or not: “Beetles consume everything—plants, animals, and their remains. Larvae and adults are found in the soil, where they function as tiny recycling machines that return organic materials to the soil, making them available again for use by plants and other animals.”

I see people reading everywhere—my method for gauging the state of publishing. My favorite sight is that of a person walking and reading at the same time (but somehow seeing people walking and texting just makes me feel sad).

Here’s another book cover I love, Dashiell Hammett’s The Thin Man. First few sentences: “I was leaning against the bar in a speakeasy on Fifth-second Street, waiting for Nora to finish her Christmas shopping, when a girl got up from the table where she had been sitting with three other people and came over to me.  She was small and blonde, and whether you looked at her face or at her body in powder-blue sports clothes, the result was satisfactory. “Aren’t you Nick Charles?” she asked.

I said: “Yes.”
The Thin Man

Reading protects my brain by orienting my thinking to the long narrative, rather than scattering my concentration which is what happens when I spend time on social media. Following a good novel’s story path allows me to relax into a multi-layered tale that triggers feelings from the past and present, and challenges my mind to make sense of it all. I love that.

Some people love curling up with a Kindle, but I’m not one of them. I like a book I can slip into my bag, lend to a friend, keep on my bedside table, read when I have a moment in the early morning or late at night. And if I’m too tired to read, I can just gaze at the cover.