Anthony Bourdain Returns

Some of you have likely read Anthony Bourdain's 2000 bestseller about restaurants, "Kitchen Confidential." That behind-the-scenes description of restaurant kitchens and the restaurant world was funny, snarky, and a bit frightening. His new book, "Medium Raw: A Bloody Valentine to the World of Food and the People Who Cook" (HarperCollins, 2010) is a bit mellower, as Bourdain by his own description has renounced the on-the-edge life he used to live, has settled down with his new family, and has a calmer, more tolerant attitude toward life. He still has a wicked tongue, though, and hasn't given up his racy vocabulary either. This new book is a mixed bag, more like a collection of short pieces than a coherent whole. Some of the pieces are pretty thin, but a few -- especially portraits of specific individual chefs and/or their restaurants -- are fascinating. My favorites -- although I don't always agree with Bourdain's opinions -- are his descriptions of Alice Waters (of the iconic Chez Panisse restaurant in Berkeley), Thomas Keller (of the French Laundry restaurant in the Napa Valley and Per Se in New York), Grant Achatz (and his famous Chicago restaurant, Alinea), Alan Richman (food and restaurant critic/writer), Erik Hopfinger (and the TV show, Top Chef), and David Chang (of the New York City Momofuku restaurants). There is also a riveting description of Justo Thomas,the man in charge of preparing upwards of 700 pounds of fish every day at the New York restaurant, Le Bernadin, considered by many to be the best seafood restaurant in the USA. If you are interested in the restaurant world, you will find much to enjoy in this new Bourdain volume; you can skim over the weaker pieces that seem a bit like "filler." And if you are looking for other books about that world, you may want to look at my 2/4/10 post with its annotated list of some of my favorite books about food, restaurants and chefs.

Great Fiction as an Antidote to Loneliness

The late writer David Foster Wallace said that really good fiction can make readers feel less lonely. This comment really struck a chord in me. Almost any decent fiction can absorb readers, entertain them, inform them, involve them, pass the time for them, and more. But only great fiction can make readers feel truly connected (echoes of E. M. Forster) to the characters, as if they were real, and to their thoughts, emotions, dilemmas, fragilities and strengths. And through and beyond the connections to characters, readers of great fiction then feel connected to something larger: to humanity itself, to all the inhabitants of this earth, in a spiritual, even transcendent way. Thinking about this, I am reminded yet again of the amazing gift that great writers and great literature provide to readers, and to humanity.

The Mitford Sisters

The five Mitford sisters, born and raised in an upper class family in early 20th century England, had an unconventional childhood dominated by an eccentric father. They were bright, but went in completely different directions. Nancy Mitford (1904-1973) was the author of amusing, gently satirical, often somewhat autobiographical novels about the British upper class, such as "The Pursuit of Love," "Love in a Cold Climate," and "Don't Tell Alfred." I have thoroughly enjoyed these delightful novels and have read some of them more than once over the years. Jessica Mitford (1917-1996) was a one-time Communist and longtime leftist who worked for civil rights and did much investigative reporting, most famously on the American funeral industry, in a book titled "The American Way of Death." She spent much of her life in Oakland, California, and I was fortunate to hear her speak and to meet and chat with her a little at the reception afterward at my university. Two of the other sisters, Unity and Diane, went in the completely opposite direction, being politically of the British Fascist Party and both close friends of Hitler's. Only the fifth sister, Deborah, led a fairly "normal" life. It is startling to see how one set of sisters, who despite everything, remained (mostly) close to each other, went in such shockingly different directions.

Separate Literary Prizes for Women -- Good or Bad Idea?

In my post yesterday, I quoted A. S. Byatt as saying that women who write smart, demanding novels are seen as unnatural. In the same Guardian online article, and elsewhere, Byatt was quoted as disapproving of the Orange Prize, a British prize for women writers. I can see Byatt's point about its being demeaning to have a separate prize for women, but I disagree with her. Since the playing field in literature, like that in most areas, is still not completely level, I am in favor of anything which helps to highlight great literature by women writers. I am equally in favor of the many other targeted prizes, such as those for British Commonwealth writers, those for writers of certain nationalities or ethnicities, and those for writers under thirty.

A. S. Byatt Speaks Her Mind

According to the Guardian UK online (8/20/10), the esteemed English novelist A. S. Byatt recently stated that women who write "smart, demanding novels are perceived by critics as strange and unnatural." As a feminist, I am aware of and alert to slights of, or mistreatment of, women, including women writers. However, as a reader of many book reviews and critical pieces, I don't really see this as a widespread issue any more, although it clearly was in the past. Perhaps in England, where Byatt lives, this is more true? Or perhaps she is sensitive because although her novel "Possession" was highly praised and is her best-known novel, her recent novel "The Children's Book" received mixed reviews? I personally liked "Possession," but abandoned "The Children's Book" after a few chapters. I am of course willing to admit that Byatt knows more about this than I do, both from her own experience and from being a part of the literary world, but I can't decide whether she is right about this topic, or whether it is her own issue, so to speak.

Bad Dad. Really Bad.

Despite my complaining about Lily King's novel "The English Teacher," I went ahead and read "The Pleasing Hour," and blogged about both novels (on 7/23/10 and 7/29/10). Now I have just finished her latest, "Father of the Rain" (Atlantic Monthly Press, 2010), but I had to pick myself up by the scruff of my neck to push myself to finish it. What is it about this author that brings me back, but at the same time makes me feel so reluctant to keep going when I read her work? She writes beautifully and is obviously a major talent. But her main topic -- family dysfunction -- makes her fiction painful to read. In this novel, Gardiner Amory is alcoholic and cruel to his wives and children; he is also charming in a WASPy way, and manipulative. King's achievement is to show his awfulness without resorting to (many) dramatic scenes. Things seem to be going fine for a while, and then a sudden horribly cruel remark or a hard slap remind us that -- despite our hopes, and those of his daughter Daley -- it is highly unlikely that Gardiner will ever change. Daley keeps trying to help him, though, even -- at least for a while -- giving up a prized job and a loving boyfriend in order to do so. She can't accept that her childhood and family were so rotten, and she wants to change things by sheer desire and effort. Needless to say, it doesn't work. Readers will root for Daley, at the same time that they want to tell her, "Stop! Don't give up your own life and future for him!" Fortunately she does learn this lesson finally, and there is even a sort of feeble reconciliation at the end of the novel.

"The Hand That First Held Mine"

"The Hand That First Held Mine" (Houghton Mifflin, 2010), by the English writer Maggie O'Farrell, tells two stories in alternating chapters. Each story is compelling in and of itself, but the gradual convergence of the two is a masterpiece of storytelling. O'Farrell achieves this feat without pyrotechnics, without seeming gimmicky, and with a purposeful lack of hyped-up suspense; in fact, at certain points she explicitly announces future events, as if to say "This novel isn't about the suspense; it's about how I take you there." The first story takes place in the 1950s and focuses on Lexy, a fiercely self-made and independent young woman during a time period when such independence was not common; Lexie is a journalist/writer/critic. The second story takes place roughly 50 years later; the main character is Elina, an artist. These two characters as well as the other characters (parents, lovers, husbands, friends, co-workers) are exquisitely well portrayed. In both cases, readers can also enjoy the snapshots of the artistic milieu in London. Some of the most powerful portions of the novel are the pictures of the characters' lives as new mothers. Only a mother, as the author is, could immerse us in the piercingly joyful and scarily overwhelming world of the first days and weeks with a newborn. Elina in particular lives in a sort of unreal twilight zone, with the lack of sleep that makes mothers unsure what time of day it is, what is going on in the outside world, and where their own minds are. Also powerful is the portrayal of how childhood events, especially those involving parents, can have a lasting effect on children. This is a beautifully written novel with vivid, original yet somehow familiar characters; I highly recommend it.

Uh...Thanks! Really!

I had to smile when I read a blogpost by Darragh McManus in the Guardian online Aug. 18, 2010 (http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/booksblog/2010/aug/18/book-recommendations-go-wrong) about the question of what to do when a friend or colleague presses a book on you, telling you you will love it, and it turns out you don't love it at all. I am sure we have all experienced this, perhaps from both sides -- being the presser and the pressee, so to speak -- at various times. I know I have. Generally my friends know my taste well, and I have often been thrilled to discover new books and authors through their recommendations, but sometimes I am surprised by a book that I really cannot get into or enjoy. I still appreciate their generosity and thoughtfulness, of course. On the other side, I am sure I have misjudged in some of my recommendations or gifts. I admit that one could say that this whole blog is a kind of pressing books on people; my rationale is that at least it is not targeted to any one person, so no one is put on the spot. The feeling of being put on the spot is what McManus was humorously getting at: What do you say to the giver/recommender who asks you later, with eagerness, how you liked the book? Should you be honest? Or fake it? Or dodge the question? Or...?

E-mail in Fiction

Much has been written, including on this blog, about how new technologies affect, may affect, and will affect the reading experience and the publishing world. What about the Kindle, the Nook, the I-Pad? What about copyright issues for books online? Etcetera. In addition to pondering those questions, I was just recently thinking about how the actual content of fiction has changed with the new technologies. I remember reading, a few years ago, a novel that was largely an ongoing exchange of e-mails among the main characters; this reminded me of the epistolary novels of the 18th and 19th centuries, but the e-mails were much faster, shorter, and more conversational than the letters. And I recently (7/31/10) posted on this blog about the novel "Landing," which is about a trans-Atlantic relationship between two lovers; much of their communication is by phone, text, and, especially, e-mail. This is a relationship that literally could not have existed without access to technology. The couple meets briefly, and only because of e-mail do they develop and continue their relationship. So the evolving technology is not just something that affects the publishing world, and is not even just something that now appears in fiction, but is a force that actually shapes which stories are possible.

Evocative Poem about Reading

Today's "Writer's Almanac, with Garrison Keillor" (which, as I have mentioned before, you can have emailed to your mailbox every day if you choose) has a lovely, evocative poem about reading. It is titled "Midsummer, Georgia Avenue," and it is by the esteemed poet Mary Jo Salter. I am not sure what the copyright status is about reproducing a poem from that website, so I am posting the link here, and hoping you will read the poem. If for some reason you have trouble with the link, just Google "Writer's Almanac" for today's date. The link is: http://writersalmanac.publicradio.org/ If you are looking at it tomorrow or in the future, just use the "previous" button to get back to Aug. 19 and this poem. Enjoy it!

Plenty of Family Drama But It Made Me Sleepy

Joanna Trollope turns out reliably entertaining, and reasonably well written, novels; I have enjoyed several of them in the past. Her new novel, "The Other Family" (Touchstone, 2010), is in the same vein as her other novels, and is fairly enjoyable to read, but I felt a little let down by it. I had trouble getting into it during the slow first section, and in fact I kept falling asleep while reading it. It seemed "talkier" than her usual novels, "telling" rather than "showing." Readers are not given enough of a sense of any of the characters to really know or care much about them. The storyline is vaguely interesting, as we learn that a famous musician has died and left two families behind, causing -- unsurprisingly -- tension and resentment. However, there is a sense of optimism, connection, and closure at the end, so that is all fine, if a bit pat. If a friend lends you this novel, or it otherwise crosses your path or shows up on your bedside table, and you feel inclined toward a quick, decently entertaining read, go for it. But I wouldn't recommend going out of your way to find, borrow, or buy it.

Piracy and Book Publishing?

A article in the September 2010 issue of Opera News (p. 8), written by Brian Kellow and passed on to me by my friend B, asks the question "Will piracy take book publishing the way of the recording industry?" Kellow believes that "book publishing is day by day being pulled into the same black hole that the music industry dropped down years ago. Over the past decade, so many composers I know have seen their already far-from-princely incomes further decimated by online piracy." He fears that the electronic availability and low pricing of books for Kindle, the Sony Reader, the Nook eReader, etc., will drive down the already-small royalties for authors and profits for publishers, and thus make it harder for writers to write and for publishers to publish. I have heard this view expressed elsewhere as well, and it makes me very nervous.

When Harry Met Sally...UK Style

"One Day" (Vintage, 2009), by the English writer David Nicholls, tells the story of Dexter and Emma, who had a very brief fling just as they were graduating from college in 1988, and then for almost two decades had a long, bumpy, but always connected friendship. They each had their own romances and even marriages, but their friendship always continued, with undercurrents of something more. Then finally...well, I won't spoil the suspense, in case you read the novel yourself. The unifying structure, which is somewhat gimmicky but doesn't come across that way, is that each chapter takes place on July 15 of a given year: 1988, 1989, 1990, and so on. Each July 15 is a kind of "checking in" as to how Emma's and Dexter's lives are going, and how they intersect. Part of the appeal of the book is watching these characters as they get older, (very slowly, and with many stops and starts) figure out what they want to do with their lives, have both failures and successes in their careers, deal with illnesses and deaths in their families, watch their friends become married and settled and suburban, sometimes drink far too much, make late night calls to each other, write each other long letters, and always consider each other their best friend, the one person they really want to talk to when things are very good or very bad. Sometimes the characters -- especially Dexter -- are very annoying and make bad decisions, yet somehow we root for them to find happiness, individually and -- we hope -- together. Sometimes the book is larky and funny, and other times sobering and saddening. But the author's best feat is that he makes us really care about the two characters. An absorbing novel.

"The Husbands and Wives Club"

The focus of this book with the catchy and possibly slightly provocative title, "The Husbands and Wives Club," becomes clearer with the subtitle, "A Year in the Life of a Couples Therapy Group," by Laurie Abraham (Touchstone, 2010). The author obtained permission to sit in on the monthly meetings of five couples with a therapist, over a period of over a year, and to write about them (using pseudonyms for the participants). Observing the participants' work with their partners, the other couples, and the therapist on a wide range of issues is fascinating. The issues include sexual problems, the bisexuality of one participant, sorrow over miscarriages, financial problems, work problems, low self-esteem, control issues, communication problems, and more. Many of these problems can be at least partially traced to the patterns that played out in the participants' families of origin. I admire the willingness of these couples -- who are all basically but sometimes ambivalently committed to making their marriages succeed -- to work so hard on resolving their issues. In addition, I admire their willingness, and that of the therapist, to have a witness (the author) to their sessions and their very personal and difficult baring of their issues, needs, and vulnerabilities. Those of us who are married cannot help making comparisons with the couples' situations, and looking for helpful insights. For anyone who is married, or has been married, or is thinking of getting married, this is a riveting examination of the institution of marriage.

Adults Reading Y.A. Books

Apparently there are many adults -- including people who also read plenty of adult fiction -- who read Young Adult (Y.A.) books, according to an essay by Pamela Paul in the New York Times Book Review (8/8/10, p. 23). This first became obvious during the height of Harry Potter frenzy, but is much more widespread. One author, Amanda Foreman, says about Y.A. fiction: "There's a freshness there; it's engaging. Y.A. authors aren't writing about middle-aged anomie or disappointed people." Some writers of adult fiction who have also written Y.A. fiction include Sherman Alexie, Francine Prose, and John Grisham. Personally, I don't read Y.A. fiction, mostly because much of it is science fiction/fantasy, which I am not interested in. And I DO, as a matter of fact, like adult fiction "about middle-aged anomie." However, I do very occasionally enjoy revisiting some of my favorites from my youth, such as the Anne of Green Gables series.

"Cleopatra's Sister"

One of the first writers I wrote about on this blog was Penelope Lively (on 1/25/10), one of my very favorite contemporary authors. She writes beautifully, her novels have intriguing plots and settings, her characters come alive, and she thoroughly understands human nature. On my trip to Kelowna, British Columbia last week for a wonderful family reunion on the beautiful Okanagan Lake, I took along paperback copies of three of Lively's novels, all of which I had already read, but wanted to re-read, knowing they would be good company on the trip. The first one I read was "Cleopatra's Sister" (Penguin, 1993). This novel tells the story of a flight from England to Nairobi that makes an emergency landing in the fictional North African country of Callimbia (Libya?), where the passengers are taken hostages as bargaining chips with England. The two main characters, passengers Howard and Lucy, are drawn to each other during the ordeal. Much of the book is about their back stories, as well as the back story of Callimbia, which includes the historical story of Cleopatra's sister, and then these strands gradually come together in the suspenseful telling of the hostage-taking. This is not one of Lively's best novels, being a bit schematic and with a storyline a bit too "torn from the headlines." But even lesser Lively is wonderful, and I enjoyed the novel. If you have never read Lively's work, I recommend you begin with one of the following novels: Moon Tiger; Heat Wave; The Photograph; Consequences; or her recent Family Album. I can almost guarantee that if you read one of her novels, you will read more.

Senator's Sex Scandal and Its Effects on His Family

Jennifer Weiner says in the acknowledgments section of "Fly Away Home" (Atria, 2010) that this book "actually got its start ten years ago, before anyone had heard of Silda Spitzer, Elizabeth Edwards, [or] Dina Matos McGreevey..." Her novel about a senator whose affair with a young aide is discovered and becomes a big scandal is, then, very timely. (However, we should remember that there has always been such behavior by some politicians, but in the past it was more likely to be hushed up, whereas now everything is on the news, blogs, gossip sites, etc.) In any case, this novel is less about the affair and the ensuing publicity than about the effects on the senator's longtime wife and on his two grown daughters, each of whom is already struggling with her own difficult personal issues, which include drug addiction, low self-esteem, an unhappy marriage, and adultery. During the course of the story, each of these three women learns much about herself and about each other, draws closer to her family members, and gradually works toward a better future. The story is not profound, but it is engaging, readable, and enjoyable.

Sad Loss of School Libraries

Do you remember the excitement of going to your school library when you were a child? I have written here before about how important public libraries and university libraries are; school libraries are also extremely important, and unfortunately an increasing number of school libraries are underfunded, understaffed, and inadequately stocked. According to Susan Thompson of the California School Library Association (San Francisco Chronicle, 8/8/10, Insight p. E11, "Letters to Insight"), school libraries are "in trouble" in California and elsewhere. School librarians are increasingly reassigned to classrooms or leaving the profession. This is a sad loss. Not only do libraries get children interested in books, but "studies have documented the positive and measurable impact that library programs have on student achievement even when poverty, parent education and language are factored into the equation" (Thompson). I can still remember the joys of going to libraries at various schools I attended, browsing through the displays and stacks, and taking home armfuls of books. I also remember school librarians reading to us and generating excitement about various books. This defunding of school libraries is very sad, and should be unacceptable.

Which Art Do You Love Best?

Most people who are interested in one of the arts – literature, music, painting, sculpture, theater, dance, opera, film, etc. – are also interested in one or more other arts. This is true for me as well; I go to museums, galleries, concerts, and plays. I took art history classes in college. When I travel, I always look for art museums and for concerts. I buy art books and various types of music on CDs. I go to “art films.” I particularly love dance performances. These arts all give me aesthetic pleasure, teach me, and often move me intensely. My life would be far poorer without my experiences with them. But none of the other arts have anything close to the powerful attraction and influence on me that literature has. I am not sure if this is because I had more exposure to books when I was a child than I had to the other arts, or if I am hardwired to be a “written word” person rather than a visual or aural person, or if there is some other reason. Whatever the reason, my truest and most compelling passion among the arts, by far, has always been literature. I wonder if it is true for most people, as it is for me, that they can appreciate and enjoy several arts, but there is one genre, one art, that stands far above the rest for them and is their “true love” aesthetically and emotionally. What do you think?

Addicted to Reading?

Sometimes I wonder if I am addicted to reading. When I say this to friends, they usually say, “If you are, it’s a good kind of addiction.” And I obviously basically agree with this assessment; reading is a powerful, informative, illuminating, productive, and enjoyable activity. If it is an addiction, it is certainly better than many other kinds of addictions. But like all addictions, it sometimes interferes with other parts of one’s life. Sometimes I think I read when I should be doing other things. If it is an addiction, it is one I have had since I was a child, and I doubt I could ever wean myself away from it. It is too powerful an addiction for me, too central an activity in my life.

A Low-Maintenance Art

One convenient aspect of reading is that it requires no equipment and little expense. Aside from procuring the book itself at a bookstore or library, or from a friend, nothing else is required. Other arts and avocations generally require more. Visual art requires trips to museums and galleries; music requires going to concerts or at least regularly stocking one’s I-Pod or CD player; dance and theater require going to performance spaces; and so on. Books have a few available accessories – e.g., shelves, bookends, reading lamps, dust covers, bookmarks – but these are optional. Books are gloriously portable, unencumbering and unencumbered; we can throw them into briefcases, book bags, beach bags, purses, or pockets when we go out, thus having them available to read on buses, subways, and planes, and in cafes and parks. Books are also sturdy, not fragile, so (except for the occasional rare or valuable book) we don’t need to fuss over them or be overly protective of them. And there they are, always ready to be opened up and read, always ready to provide enjoyment, information, enlightenment, connection, and so much more. Think of it: little alternative (yet familiar) worlds always at our fingertips: what could be better?

A Love letter to Newspapers

As we all know, newspapers are an endangered species in this era of the Internet. Here I won’t go into the many important reasons that Internet news cannot and should not replace print journalism (but I do note that much of the news on the Internet is taken directly from in-print newspapers; who else does investigations and reporting in depth?). Supplement, yes; replace, no. Here I just want to write a little love letter to newspapers. I have read and enjoyed newspapers since I was a child; I read them daily, and feel deprived and twitchy without them. When I lived in India as a child, we took an English language newspaper called, if I remember rightly, the Madras Mail. When my family moved to Michigan, we read the Detroit Free Press, and I continued reading it for all the years I lived in Michigan, and even occasionally in the years after I left; I greeted it as an old friend when I went back during summer weeks at my parents’ lakeside cottage or visits to my friend in Ann Arbor. When I moved to San Francisco, I started reading the San Francisco Chronicle, and have read it ever since. The Chronicle is now rather sadly thin and diminished, but I am very fond of it, and can’t do without it. I do read The New York Times occasionally, and subscribe to its Book Review, and I read other newspapers when I travel, but my day in, day out newspaper is the Chronicle, and I am very loyal to it. What is better than reading the morning paper with one’s morning coffee? My husband and I amicably divide the sections, and then trade. The bulkier Sunday paper with its lovely supplements (magazines, book review, travel and food sections, comics, etc.) is a special pleasure. It’s a great way to ease into the new day. I love the physical aspect of holding the paper in my hands; I even love the smell of newsprint, although in recent years I have developed a slight allergy to the smell, just as my late father did; however, a few sneezes can't stop me from reading newspapers! I hope that there are enough of us that feel so passionate about, and loyal to, print newspapers that they will survive and prosper.

Daffy and Marvelous Lucia and Mapp

Do you know the “Lucia” novels, by E. F. Benson? If not, and if you like a certain kind of witty, slightly daffy British humor, full of lovely nonsense, you have a treat in store. There are six novels, starting with “Queen Lucia” and ending with “Trouble for Lucia,” published in the 1920s and 1930s. These are collectively known as the “Make Way for Lucia” series. The main character, Lucia, has an ongoing friendly but intense rivalry with the other main character, Mapp, and hilarious antics ensue. Both are women "of a certain age" living in a small town, “Tilling.” (As an interesting aside: Lucia’s house, “Mallards,” is based on Benson’s house, Lamb House, where Henry James had also lived earlier.) Each wants to be the acknowledged social leader of the town. They go to great lengths to outdo each other, and they are not above playing tricks on each other. Each can be imperious, pretentious and manipulative, but all in good fun. Each has her supporters, and those characters too are very funny. Lucia and Mapp and all the characters are truly memorable, and these novels are incomparable, irresistible. They were also made into an equally hilarious BBC television series.

Academic Reading: Sometimes Tedious, Sometimes Wonderful!

Besides the novels, memoirs, and other books, as well as magazines, that I read for pleasure and write about in this blog, I also read many books and academic journals for professional reasons. I need and want to keep up with the research in my discipline, and in related disciplines. This reading feeds into my own research and writing, as well as into my teaching. To be honest, not all of this academic reading is fascinating; sometimes journals pile up for a while before I get to them, and sometimes I skim through them, reading only the articles that are most relevant to my interests. But when I do find the articles or books or book chapters that are relevant and interesting, even exciting, I feel a great, sometimes even exhilarating sense of discovery. I get out my pencil and underline and write notes in the margins, with liberal applications of post-its (such a great invention!) as well. I enter references onto my various bibliographies. I put journals and books into various piles related to various of my writing projects. It is a different type of reading than my reading of novels for pure enjoyment, but each provides different types of pleasure and enrichment in my life.

Colonial India

Because I lived as a child in barely postcolonial India, I have always been drawn to literature set in India. Novels about India have political, social and emotional resonance for me. On March 1, 2010, I posted a list of selected novels by Indian writers. Today I am writing about novels by British writers that are set in India during the Raj. These novels certainly have a colonial perspective, being of their time, but also manage to transcend that perspective in many ways. Perhaps the greatest such novel, and certainly the best-known, is E. M. Forster’s “A Passage to India,” set in India during the later years of the British Raj. Forster felt a real connection to India and Indians, and his novel shows understanding of all its characters, both British and Indian. The next most well known example of this genre is Paul Scott’s “The Raj Quartet,” four interconnected novels also about the British Raj. These novels are satisfying on so many levels: historical, psychological, cultural, and of course literary. They were collectively made into one of the best PBS presentations ever: “The Jewel in the Crown.” Scott followed this quartet with another novel set in India after Independence, called "Staying On," also very good. Other British novels set in India are M. M. Kaye’s huge bestseller about the Mutiny, “The Far Pavilions,” and Rumer Godden’s delightful novels reflecting her childhood in India, such as “The River,” which was made into a film by Jean Renoir.

A Living Shrine for Books

On the third floor of the library of the university where I teach is the enchanting Rare Book Room. As visitors walk in, they are surrounded by gorgeous antique wooden tables, comfortable old-fashioned sofas and chairs, windows overlooking a green vista of the city, display cases with ever-changing exhibits, and a large, authentic printing press. And, of course, everywhere, there are books in beautiful old-fashioned cabinets. This is where old, rare books and book-related items are kept. Although they cannot be checked out, they can be looked at, and looked through, in this beautiful, inviting room. The atmosphere is welcoming, and the Rare Book Librarian encourages visitors to enjoy the room and its contents. As part of a library orientation every semester, I take my students to this special room, and the Librarian shows them such artifacts as ancient stones with hieroglyphic writing, beautiful aged scrolls from China, pages from a Gutenberg Bible, books that are art objects in various unexpected shapes, and more. He also explains how the printing press works, and tells them about the special collections of the works of various authors. The students are always impressed with the room and with these displays. I never tire of visiting this living shrine to the history and variety of the written word.