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4.05 AVERAGE
4.05 AVERAGE
Who doesn't love a book about books? This collection of essays was delightful. I loved Anne Fadiman's unique voice and her matter of fact way of loving books and all things related to books. A few of my favorites include hearing how she and her husband merged their libraries, the rules that people have about books (are you a carnal or courtly reader?), and her family's tendency to proofread everything (same!). This was a fun way to pass the time and I'll continue to seek out books about books!
funny
informative
lighthearted
fast-paced
Loved this one. Her vocabulary is a joy to read, too.
I'm bumping this rating up to a four-star--although it falls somewhere in between a three and a four for me.
All of the individual chapters were on book-related topics that held a strong appeal for me (proofreading, author inscriptions, love of long words), but very few of the chapters ended with a strong conclusion. For the most part, the chapters interested me when I was reading them, but then kind of hollowed out at the end. Maybe I'm too conditioned for each chapter to come across like a good short story with a satisfying arc that settles into some sort of compelling ending.
My favorite chapters were on the author's tendency to proofread and on aspects of plagiarism that have shaped the practice of writing. The plagiarism chapter has some entertaining footnotes in it that reflect her sense of humor and also serve to add more context to the essay itself. Her struggles with gender pronouns and her reflections on the treatment of food in novels are also memorable, but they are examples of the pieces that, for me, didn't come together as neatly as I would have liked them to.
Fadiman also shares a fair amount about her strong family relationships, both with her family of origin and with her husband and kids. That sweetness permeated several of the essays, and it was nice to read about how she and the people in her life have been shaped by their love for books. The openings to nearly all of the essays were solid whether they were well-crafted anecdotes, bits of history, or general observations on the natures of people as they relate to books and the written word. I've put several of the books about books that she has recommended into my library queue, so expect a few more reviews on similar books to come through on my profile in the near future. I also made note of a few of the more compelling words that she employs in telling her stories (syzygy, redolent, pettifogger, etc.), words that she is likely brave enough to use in conversation and words that I will likely only use parenthetically in reviews ... at least until I look them up to remind myself of their meanings.
All of the individual chapters were on book-related topics that held a strong appeal for me (proofreading, author inscriptions, love of long words), but very few of the chapters ended with a strong conclusion. For the most part, the chapters interested me when I was reading them, but then kind of hollowed out at the end. Maybe I'm too conditioned for each chapter to come across like a good short story with a satisfying arc that settles into some sort of compelling ending.
My favorite chapters were on the author's tendency to proofread and on aspects of plagiarism that have shaped the practice of writing. The plagiarism chapter has some entertaining footnotes in it that reflect her sense of humor and also serve to add more context to the essay itself. Her struggles with gender pronouns and her reflections on the treatment of food in novels are also memorable, but they are examples of the pieces that, for me, didn't come together as neatly as I would have liked them to.
Fadiman also shares a fair amount about her strong family relationships, both with her family of origin and with her husband and kids. That sweetness permeated several of the essays, and it was nice to read about how she and the people in her life have been shaped by their love for books. The openings to nearly all of the essays were solid whether they were well-crafted anecdotes, bits of history, or general observations on the natures of people as they relate to books and the written word. I've put several of the books about books that she has recommended into my library queue, so expect a few more reviews on similar books to come through on my profile in the near future. I also made note of a few of the more compelling words that she employs in telling her stories (syzygy, redolent, pettifogger, etc.), words that she is likely brave enough to use in conversation and words that I will likely only use parenthetically in reviews ... at least until I look them up to remind myself of their meanings.
3.5 stars. Essays about being a bibliophile. I chuckled. This is a good gift for anyone bookish.
This is an exquisite book. I go back to it every year. Gorgeous!
This small volume of essays on books, reading, and the words put by authors inside them is an absolute gem. Fadiman is witty and clever in her accounts on reading aloud, collecting books, and how to treat their pages, to name just a few examples. I also very much appreciate her crisp prose and syntax, and I learned more than a few new words while reading this.
I would say this is a must read for any bookworm who would call themselves a book lover or collector. And -- this is some of the highest of my praise -- I am so very glad I bought this --used! -- at my very own Magers & Quinn because I certainly plan on returning to a few of her essays and most definitely the recommended reading. I think this book was perfect for me.
Also, my husband and I could relate to more than one scenario Fadiman shared with her husband, which was very humorous. I am fated to perhaps be just like them in regards to books and the way spouses interact.
I would say this is a must read for any bookworm who would call themselves a book lover or collector. And -- this is some of the highest of my praise -- I am so very glad I bought this --used! -- at my very own Magers & Quinn because I certainly plan on returning to a few of her essays and most definitely the recommended reading. I think this book was perfect for me.
Also, my husband and I could relate to more than one scenario Fadiman shared with her husband, which was very humorous. I am fated to perhaps be just like them in regards to books and the way spouses interact.
Brilliant, funny and inspiring essays that I love to read again; each time I revisit them, I see them differently.
Ann Fadiman is so in love and it really shows - thinking, how somebody (Jeanette Winterson? I can't remember) commented the only difference between Well of Loneliness and Orlando was that Woolf was in love when she wrote the latter and Hall was not; that that ease and abandonment too, found itself in her words. But also Woolf, I think, is also just also an objectively better writer.
Reading this, I was struck by the love that Fadiman has, both for reading and also for George (her husband, another reader). The former is obvious, the latter is latent but always present in the text like a gentle pulse; when she writes about marrying their bookshelves, when she writes about their inscriptions on flyleafs to each other, when she writes about lovers reading to each other in bed. Readerly domestic bliss of this sort inspires envy and felicity, I hope it happens to me some day in the future. And, returning to her essay about reading aloud ("Sharing the Mayhem"), in a fashion tinged bittersweet, I think of E's bookshelf on the first night, Crying in H-Mart and The Táin and Paul Murray and Mishima, and how we had wanted to read The Táin together (which didn't happen; I was looking forward to that, hearing him read the Irish names). I think, also, of giving someone I was with a signed copy of Written on the Body with nothing on the flyleaf, receiving a copy of Duras' The Lover (I think), and then also absolutely Blasting through Crying in H-Mart on 2x speed on audiobook while I was driving. And receiving Ocean Vuong's On Earth We are Briefly Gorgeous from friends as a birthday gift, and how YK is holding onto a signed copy of Arkady Martine's A Desolation Called Peace for me. And also, what it means to move to a foreign country and use your precious luggage allowance on a brick of Jane Austen's collected novels (which I still haven't read).
All this is to say, yes, and also of course that I adored and devoured Fadiman in two hours.
Reading this, I was struck by the love that Fadiman has, both for reading and also for George (her husband, another reader). The former is obvious, the latter is latent but always present in the text like a gentle pulse; when she writes about marrying their bookshelves, when she writes about their inscriptions on flyleafs to each other, when she writes about lovers reading to each other in bed. Readerly domestic bliss of this sort inspires envy and felicity, I hope it happens to me some day in the future. And, returning to her essay about reading aloud ("Sharing the Mayhem"), in a fashion tinged bittersweet, I think of E's bookshelf on the first night, Crying in H-Mart and The Táin and Paul Murray and Mishima, and how we had wanted to read The Táin together (which didn't happen; I was looking forward to that, hearing him read the Irish names). I think, also, of giving someone I was with a signed copy of Written on the Body with nothing on the flyleaf, receiving a copy of Duras' The Lover (I think), and then also absolutely Blasting through Crying in H-Mart on 2x speed on audiobook while I was driving. And receiving Ocean Vuong's On Earth We are Briefly Gorgeous from friends as a birthday gift, and how YK is holding onto a signed copy of Arkady Martine's A Desolation Called Peace for me. And also, what it means to move to a foreign country and use your precious luggage allowance on a brick of Jane Austen's collected novels (which I still haven't read).
All this is to say, yes, and also of course that I adored and devoured Fadiman in two hours.
Maravilloso libro que revienta las tendencias, deseos, necedades y pasiones de los lectores. Un must-read para los que se consideran bibliófilos, no por una fría exigencia intelectual que nos pide cumplir un requerimiento mínimo de títulos que cualquier que se dé de lector empedernido debe marcar como leído, sino porque entre estas páginas se encuentran historias y anécdotas que harán al lector ávido sentirse menos solo y alienado en una sociedad en la que se ha perdido el amor por la lectura, los libros y las bibliotecas. Cuando Fadiman recuenta sus experiencias infantiles con la lectura y su obsesión con las palabras sesquipedales está contando mi historia de cuando a los 5 años escrutaba el diccionario enciclopédico en busca de nuevas palabras exóticas e interesantes que resultaban casi mágicas a mis infantiles oídos.
Las palabras Ex Libris, las que recién vine a conocer hace solo unos años atrás y que me hubiesen gustado haber encontrado mucho antes en mi infancia —para ahorrarme el escribir “este libro pertenece a:” en la portada de todos mis libros—, ha cobrado un nuevo significado luego de leer este libro que coincidentemente las lleva por nombre. Han pasado de ser un simple vocablo latín que denota la pertenencia de un libro a representar y contener en sus ocho letras todas las experiencias, anhelos, sueños, sinsabores, y excentricidades de los amantes de los libros.
Las palabras Ex Libris, las que recién vine a conocer hace solo unos años atrás y que me hubiesen gustado haber encontrado mucho antes en mi infancia —para ahorrarme el escribir “este libro pertenece a:” en la portada de todos mis libros—, ha cobrado un nuevo significado luego de leer este libro que coincidentemente las lleva por nombre. Han pasado de ser un simple vocablo latín que denota la pertenencia de un libro a representar y contener en sus ocho letras todas las experiencias, anhelos, sueños, sinsabores, y excentricidades de los amantes de los libros.