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November 15, 2006

Barry Unsworth's Precious New Gem

Do you ever feel your boat floating gently into the harbor when you pick up a new book? A book that you will love instantly, perhaps even before you flip the pages? That's how I feel with each new title from Barry Unsworth's pen.

From the jacket lined with Ingres' erotic courtesan to the rich narrative prose that transports the reader into an era now all but nearly forgotten by most of us, once again the new novel, Ruby in Her Navel propels me to become a lousy wife, bad mother, and a negligent scholar until I savor every line, every word to the last dot.

I picked up the book this afternoon, flipping through the book all the way home. Thirteen months ago--are any of you supersitious--I was hit by a car on the island of Ortigia in Sicily, without knowing my fate. Well, at least not for a while. Let's forget that part now.

Instead, I'll follow the path of Thurstan Beauchamp, a man of Norman descent who works for a Moslem Arab in the kingdom of a Christian ruler. Before I could unlock my door, I was back in Sicily, walking through medieval Palermo and savoring the old-fashioned language of a literary genius.

This blending of religions and cultures reminds me of the sequel of Maddalena I'm currently writing, a story set in Rudolfine Prague in a world which--unfortunately--also sparkled and collapsed as swiftly as the Sicilian kingdom of the Good King Roger.

Until next time.

Posted by Eva Siroka at 09:20 PM | Comments (0)

November 01, 2006

Pick a Nice Spot for Your Library,

But make sure that it's in your own home.

The Sony reader promises to keep 80 electronic books or hundreds more with a removable memory card. It further assures the readers that they don't have to leave home by leaving their favorites behind.

Isn't that great news? Ohmigosh, no.

If I bought one, what would I do with my books?

My War and Peace paperback with a red wine spot on p. 51 from when our plane hit a turbulent spot over the Atlantic?

My Introduction to the History of Woodcut in which my daughter wrote with childish upper case letters I LOVE YOU MOMMY?

Would I have to replace these by a cold-hearted box spitting out paragraphs of words across its screen?

I love books. I need to touch them and nurse them until the last page. I need to be able to flip back to the spot I was reading when the phone rang with wonderful news.

I love to touch the paper, its smooth coarseness.
I love the rustle of the pages that I still hear as I line each newcomer on the book shelf.

Would I replace my paper friends with a computer-chip card in a steel matchbox? No way.

Books are like dogs with their leafy heads in man's lap while the fire crackles across the room, the stew bubbles on the stove, and yes, while he's soaking his feet on a fictional dock on the back-page of the New York Time Book Review.

That's the only way I can imagine reading Maddalena!

Posted by Eva Siroka at 07:24 PM | Comments (0)