Day 123: Firmin

Firmin: Adventures of a Metropolitan Lowlife by Sam Savage.  ISBN: 9781566891813.

There's a moment when Firmin the rat describes the bookstore he lives in.  He mentions the organization system; some of the books are categorized, and others are strewn about.  People enjoy both and like the feeling of browsing, they love coming across something wonderful and unexpected in amongst the mediocre.

I think many readers can probably relate to this, not only with purchasing or browsing for books, but also with finding that perfect book — the book that changes your life the moment you read it and stays with you forever.  We all have those books, they are precious too us.  These are books that just come along and seem to save us at just the right time, even if we didn't know we needed saving.  There have been a number of those books for me.  I think I'll include them here, and as much as in order as I can remember them. 

The Yearling by Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings.  Not only was this my first major chapter book, but it was the first "adult" book I read.  Yes, it's geared towards children, but it was the first book that I read that didn't try to diminish or dull the pain of loss, not only of a beloved pet, but of the moment in childhood when you become responsible for making difficult decisions for yourself and your family.  I think I may have read this book too young, because I took that message very seriously, but I don't regret the person it made me. 

The Giver by Lois Lowry.  Apparently there are now sequels to this book.  Given that this book blew my mind when it first came out when I was...8 years old.  Yes, it was above my reading level, but there was so much to think about that I think about it almost every day.  I am not kidding.  I think about this book all the time.  It's probably time for a reread, which is something I very rarely do.  I'm almost afraid because what if it's not as life-altering as I remember it?  Well, I guess the last 17 years already say otherwise so I should stop worrying about it.  Once again this was more along the lines of making hard decisions at a young age. 

Parable of the Sower by Octavia E. Butler.  This is the book that I recommend to anyone and everyone who wants to know me and how I think.  I discovered this book about the age of 14, close enough to the main character's age that it really got to me.  Both of our worlds were falling apart, and yes hers was changing a little more rapidly and dramatically than mine, but she was doing something about it.  It gave me the courage to do the best I could in preparing a better life for myself sometime in the future since I knew my life couldn't change right at that moment.  I was in a situation and a place that I had no control over, Butler showed me not only a way out of the dark times, but how to make it so the future dark times didn't seem so dim. This is an important book. 

The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas.  This is one of several books I read by kerosene lamp while on co-op in middle of nowhere Tennessee.  This book came to me about 3 years after my brother had been kicked out of the house and I stopped speaking to him.  It was the book that made me think it was time to let go of the anger, even if I wasn't quite ready to forgive him and I definitely wasn't ready to let him back into my life.  It wasn't really until two years ago (more or less from today**) that I started talking to my brother again.  I was able to live my vengeance through the Count and let everything else go. 

Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury.  I read this recently.  Some of you might even remember.  I almost wish that this was the book that made me want to be a librarian.  It almost saddens me that I didn't read it until almost a year after receiving my degree, and if you want to get a librarian a graduation present that isn't a Nancy Pearl Action figure* then might I recommend a really swanky copy of this book.  Preferably with a witty inscription and a couple of twenty dollar bills slipped between the pages.

 *I have my picture with the real Nancy Pearl!
**This means we didn't talk to each other for about 7-8 years.
**Dayna Ingram asked me to blog about this book, although she did not recommend a topic (this time).  Send me a recommendation at acampb8@kent.edu or my Twitter account @libs_lib.

Day 122: Firmin

Firmin: Adventures of a Metropolitan Lowlife by Sam Savage.  ISBN: 9781566891813.

Firmin is a literary rat, he eats and reads books.  There wasn't as much book eating and tasting as I was hoping for.  I really wanted more descriptions of what the books tasted like to Firmin.  The ones he did mention were from the perspective of a rat, so I thought I would share with you how I feel books would taste, by genre if nothing else.

Non-fiction tastes like broccoli.  The bad kind is super raw broccoli.  It's there on my plate, and I'm required to eat the roughage, sans ranch dip.  Stomach aches, bloating and gas to follow.  Good non-fiction is still broccoli, but it varies from lightly steamed, to covered in delicious cheese sauce (or humor as I like to call it) to make it more palatable.  I've read some fabulous non-fiction in my times and it seems to be getting more palatable all the time.  Part of this may because my palate has matured and I'm no longer forced to eat my broccoli and sprouts, but eat them gladly.

Memoir somewhat reminds of the Seder Plate.  I'm not Jewish, but as a Unitarian we tend to explore the traditions of other religions and cultures.  The Seder Plate consists of an arrangement of foods meant to symbolize the Exodus of Egypt.  To me the act of writing a memoir is itself a ritual, so I find this particularly fitting to "taste" ritual when I read ritual.  The plate is comprised of sweet, bitter, salty, and includes meat and egg.  This very much summarizes how I feel about memoirs: some are more balanced than others, while others tip more towards the bitter or sweet, but I think it's a very fitting analogy.

Science Fiction reminds of the exotic foods (at least to American palate).  It's definitely not for everyone, you have to have a taste for it, to be willing to eat squid and octopus and pigeon and rattlesnake (all things I've eaten by the way).  It has a flavor that you can get close to describing, but not close enough.  The only way you can truly experience it is to live it, but since you can't live science fiction (at least not yet), you can read the descriptions and imagine the reality as close as possible.  Some of the flavors you can taste, but unless you actually go to the county the food is made in, you will be eating the version that is adapted to your palate.  It is foreign and familiar at the same time.

Fantasy is kind of a hard one to peg down.  I'd say it's the Jello or perhaps the Gelato of the literary world.  It's delicious, that cannot be denied, but it's sort of amorphous as well, or it melts on the tongue too quickly and you feel compelled to shove another bite in your mouth.  When you're done with the bowl there's a sense of satisfaction and an anticipation for the next time you can get your hands on a good one.  As someone not overly fond of Jello, I would say that's what bad fantasy tastes like, but damn do I love Gelato.

Novels, they range in tastes.  Maybe they're a buffet.  Yes, a buffet like Golden Corral.  You mostly get the basic flavors, the mac'n'cheese, the green beans, roast beef, and some dessert to boot.  We also tend to glut on novels (or general fiction) and ignore other genres.  It's easy to do because they tend to be pushed on us as being closer to our lives than science fiction or fantasy, so they must be more "valuable."  But everything in moderation, dear reader (I know, I'm not very good at moderation either).

Horror/Suspense is kind of like the new dish you've been wanting to try, but it's so out of your usual tastes that you're never sure if you should take the leap of faith.  The pleasure of thinking about eating it is sometimes more delicious than the actual eating.  Even when it's good you sometimes regret eating it because of the results (oops, who knew I was allergic to conch?*).

Mystery is like bread.  White, tasteless, non-nutritious bread.  It's formulaic and dull and boring, but sometimes you can make a damn fine sandwich with it.  But then, the focus is never really the bread, now is it?  I prefer novels that have an element of mystery without it actually being A Mystery.  There are rare exceptions that are more like a nice pumpernickle or French loaf, maybe even some raisin bread if you're lucky.  Mystery lovers will disagree with me here, but to me - white bread.  It's obviously a library staple, though, and I respect it as such, but I wouldn't eat it on a regular basis.

Young Adult, oh I love YA Fiction.  It is dessert.  I try to eat sparingly, but I have such a bad sweet tooth.  Books like The Hunger Games are more of a cheese tray or a frozen yogurt - a slightly healthier choice, but oh so good.  You have books like Twilight, which are like penny candy: I'll eat it if it's around, but it's certainly not my first choice and sometimes I'll skip it altogether.  But I love most the truly enjoyable reads that have a certain denseness to them like a good brownie or rich cake.  I'm drooling, how about you?

Romance, strangely, is like whipped cream.  There is nothing good in those calories, but damned if I don't eat it anyway.  It goes well with other genres, but on it's own there's something shameful about just eating whipped cream.  At the worst it's like a Diet Coke: not only is it overly sweet and bad for you, but there's no caloric value at all.


*Surprise! Oh the horror.  PS: I don't know if I'm allergic to conch, but this is supposedly how most people find out...and on vacation.
**Dayna Ingram asked me to blog about this book, although she did not recommend a topic (this time).  Send me a recommendation at acampb8@kent.edu or my Twitter account @libs_lib.