“M” is for . . .
May 9, 2010

Mother’s Day, of course. And the fifth month of the year, that “merry, merry month of May.” But it also can encompass a lot more, and I thought it might be fun to go through my house and see what else, especially on my bookshelves, is also part of that particular letter. Bear in mind these are just a few examples of books with names beginning with the letter or whose author’s names (first or last) also begin with “M.”

Main Street is the first book I see in the shelves above my desk. Sinclair Lewis’s most popular novel ripped the façade off the benign face small-town America had created for itself. The author’s portrayal stung many a small town at the time, but the realism makes it a superb read. It was the first book in my now-complete collection of Lewis’s works. I have read it at least ten times, and probably will read it at least that many more times again because Lewis made me fall in love with his words through this book.

Mt. Everest features in a number of books on my shelves—adventure, biography, memoir, fine art photography, history. Though I have never been a mountain climber or had any interest in trying it I am enthralled with the passion and commitment the endeavor takes. One of the finest books is the well-known Into Thin Air, but I can also recommend (the only ones I can find at the moment) Lost on Everest, Himalayan Portfolios, High Crimes, Everest: Mountain without Mercy, and Everest: Summit of Achievement.

Not in the same way but certainly with adventurous themes are the books of Martha Gellhorn. Though she never achieved the almost cult-like fame of her ex-husband, Gellhorn is in my opinion a writer worth reading. I own books both by her—The Trouble I’ve Seen, The Face of War, Vietnam: A New Kind of War, Travels with Myself and Another, The Weather in Africa—and books about her: Nothing Happens to the Brave, Gellhorn: A Twentieth-Century Life, Selected Letters of Martha Gellhorn, and Beautiful Exile. Not an altogether pleasant person, Gellhorn is nevertheless determined, strong, passionate—and a damned good writer.

Writer extraordinaire Arthur Miller produced a number of things (and I own several) but nothing from him matters as much to me as my two copies of Death of a Salesman. Not only do I feel a kinship with Willy and Linda but I had, thanks to the spectacular resolution of a bad customer service encounter, the opportunity to see Brian Dennehy in the show at the Los Angeles Ahmanson Theatre on Saturday, October 28, 2000. We were second row center, perfectly positioned to feel ourselves physically as well as emotionally drawn inside the performance. One book, the paperback, sports the actual tickets from that night as well as the review of the play from the Los Angeles Times. The other, a jacketless first edition hardcover, has four pages from the program, which include an essay from Miller on how the play developed:

In the 1949 Broadway audience, there was more to worry about than their following the story. In one of his letters O’Neill had referred to that theatre as a “showstop,” a crude place where a very uncultivated, materialistic public cut off from its own spirituality gathered for a laugh or a tear. . . . . The problem, in a word, was seriousness. There wasn’t very much of it in the audience, and it was resented when it threatened to appear on the stage. . . . [I was] all but convinced that if one totally integrated a play’s conceptual life with its emotional one so that there was no perceptible dividing line between the two, such a play could reach such an audience. . . . Initially based . . . on an uncle of mine, Willy rapidly took over my imagination and became something that had ever existed before, a salesman with his feet on the subway stairs and his head in the stars. . . . being human—a father, mother, son—is something most of us fail at most of the time, and a little mercy is eminently in order given the societies we live in, which purport to be stable and sound as mountains when in fact they are all trembling in a fast wind blowing mindlessly around the earth.

Newspaperman, writer, editor, reviewer, author (The American Language) and social critic H.L. Mencken, although not as appreciated as much as he should be today (in my opinion), possessed a biting wit that he frequently turned upon the hypocrites of his day. Given some of the things he said about the people of Tennessee and the state of Alabama (“apex of moronia”) while covering the Scopes trial, I am sure that today’s so-called birthers, political-religious extremists, and con-men in Wall Street bankers’ suits would suit his talent for word perfectly.

The Mother Tongue: English and How It Got That Way by Bill Bryson is not all that different from Mencken’s The American Language in that both focus on exploring the complexities of the language, of its origins, and of the differences between the British and American versions. (Bryson’s also includes humor whereas Mencken’s is a serious study.)

Mastering the Art of French Cooking (Volumes 1 and 2) is to the kitchen what The American Language was to  lexicography. Actually, it might be more accurate to say it is to eating since the joy of eating is an inherent part of finely prepared food. This is a serious book that aims to make its teaching pleasurable. Volume 1 is dated 1961 (I bought it used in about 1969), and the years I spent with it are there for all to see in its worn dust jacket, floppy pages, and unidentifiable stains on a number of pages. It tends to sit in honor on a glass shelf these days rather than lie open on a kitchen counter, but I figure it’s worked hard. The rest (and the admiration) are well deserved.

My Bombay Kitchen is the only other cookbook in my collection to make this list, but it is one I am proud to add. Recipes come from the culture of the Parsis, descendents of Zoroastrians who fled Persia for India after the Sassanian empire fell to the invading Arabs. No pretty pictures for this book; instead you will find a lovely basic design that highlights the stories of her mother’s kitchen and the history surrounding each recipe. This is really an excellent book, and one that added several new dishes to my repertoire including Parsi Scrambled Eggs (Akuri):

1 tablespoon (or more) ghee or butter
1 medium-size yellow or red onion, finely chopped, or a large bunch of green onions, chopped with their greens
1-2 teaspoons Ginger Garlic Paste (see below)
2 green chiles, finely chopped
1/2 to 1 cup coarsely chopped fresh coriander (cilantro) leaves to taste
1/2 teaspoon (about) salt
6 large eggs, lightly beaten with 2 tablespoons milk or cream

In a heavy skillet, melt the ghee over medium heat. Add the onions and brown them slowly, stirring occasionally, until they begin to caramelize. Add the paste if you want it and the chiles. Stir for a minute. Add the fresh coriander and the salt. Check the seasoning. Add the eggs and an indulgent extra dollop of ghee if you want the added richness. Over low heat, scramble to your taste. Check for salt before serving at once.

Note: When green garlic is in season, it’s often used in akuri. The green garlic we get in Bombay is sold in bunches with stems as thin as chives and tiny, tender cloves the size of the nail on your little finger. If you have your own garlic patch, do give this a try, even if it seems like infanticide.

Ginger Garlic Paste (Adu Lason):

About 1/2 cup roughly chopped peel fresh ginger (about 4 oz.)
About 1/2 cup roughly chopped peeled garlic clove
About 1/2 teaspoon salt (optional)
Vegetable oil

In a wet-dry grinder or food processor, grind the ginger and garlic to a smooth paste using as little water as possible. Ad the salt if you plan on storing the paste. Pack it into a small, tightly covered jar with a nonreactive lining to the lid. Pour a thin film of oil on top of the paste. Store in the refrigerator.

It sounds related to food and I suppose it is in an off-beat way, but Men of Salt is a more of a superb travelogue/adventure/biography about a disappearing way of life in a culture that is threatened by—what else?—civilization. The salt of the tale is worth gold to the men who collect it because the giant slabs they bring back from the impossibly desolate salt mines sells for a great deal of money. I reviewed this, giving it my highest recommendation, and now that I have found it again I may just reread it.

Among the “M” authors on my shelves are Michael Dirda, formerly Washington Post Book World editor, Pulitzer Prize-winning book critic, author of several books on books, all of which I own and have read, and (to be honest) a gorgeous guy. He’s joined, albeit a few shelves away, by Michael Crichton of whom I own only one book: The Great Train Robbery. But I enjoy that book enough to have read it perhaps ten times because of the Victorian history that enriches and surrounds the “Crime of the Century.” William Makepeace Thackeray’s Vanity Fair sits on my shelves mostly because I am fascinated by his name. I confess that though I do want to read the book I have yet to do so. Any writer with a name like “Makepeace” deserves a fair reading. The late Margo Kaufman, a wonderful comedic writer who died too early, only put out four books, two of which I own, but her homespun humor is always good for a pick-me-up. Other authors represented include David McCullough (I have my father’s audio version of his 1776), Mary Shelley (Frankenstein), and Michel de Montaigne (The Complete Essays of Montaigne), Henry Miller (Tropic of Cancer, Tropic of Capricorn, Black Spring). And fortunately Jane Austen is also found here with Mansfield Park.

W. Somerset Maugham is well represented, not surprising given that I like his writing. On my bedside table is a slipcased two-volume set of his short stories. Elsewhere is Of Human Bondage (naturally), The Moon and Sixpence, The Painted Veil, Ashenden: Or the British Agent, Cakes and Ale, and Strictly Personal.

Biographies of four different yet fascinating people include Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Margaret Sanger, Marie Antoinette, and Claude Monet share one shelf in my den. Though they are very different people I occasionally like to speculate that the four of them might produce a very interesting dinner party. (Monet is also represented with three books in the Arts section; Sanger with two volumes of her letters; and Marie Antoinette has a place in a couple of general travel and political histories of France.)

Finally, my love of all that is astronomy can also be included in the “M” section with two fine art photography  books: Magnificent Mars and Magnificent Universe. Both contain images from Hubble that show the extraordinary world of space. Even though I subscribe to Astronomy Picture of the Day, and regularly check other science blogs and sites, these and other oversized astronomy books with their superbly rendered reproductions offer far more opportunity to appreciate the wonders and beauty of this incredible science.

There is more of course, but the point here is not to name them, rather to explore what kinds of books I had collected over the years using an arbitrary factor, in this case the letter “M.” While it had no particular instructive value, I did find that taking the time to do the actual hunting as well as the writing allowed me to mentally caress the memories I have of the books listed here that I have read. Several acted as teachers, some angered me, others amused me, a very few bored me, but without exception they all gave me something that continues with me on my life journey. Flowers are not the only thing for which I am grateful this May.

Upcoming Book Festivals:
The states of Michigan and Arkansas celebrate books this upcoming weekend. Starting off with the Ann Arbor Book Festival on Friday, May 14, will be an evening full of poetry and the presentation of the annual "LILA Award", or Leader in the Literary Arts. The two poets who will share their work are Aracelis Girmay and Rachel McKibbens. Cost is $5. On Saturday, May 15, the Author Breakfast will feature nine visiting authors including Vasugi V. Ganeshananthan, Michael Byers, and Charity Nebbe.The cost is $20. Also on Saturday are the Fellowship of American Bibliophilic Societies Annual Symposium and the annual Weiter’s Conference. In the evening there will be a special conversation entitled American Salvage: A Conversation with 2009 National Book Award finalist and author Bonnie Jo Campbell & Lolita Hernandez. Sunday morning brings the Antiquarian Book Fairwith more than theirty sellers, map and print dealers.

On Sunday, May 16, Books in Bloom will um. blossom in Eureka Springs, Arkansas from noon to 5:00 pm on the grounds o fthe gorgeous Crescent Hotel. The day before, May 15, they also offer a Writer’s Workshop wiwth Steve and Elizabeth Berry. Events on Sunday include appearances by seventeen  authors including Nevada Barr, Steve Berry, Tom Dillard, Gail Sheehy, and Michael Shelden, as well as the University of Arkansas Press, Writer’s Colony at Dairy Hollow, and Boian Books.

The Pub House:
Concord Free Press truly is a unique house, and I am not sure how they do it. Their own description notes that they “reconceptualize the very goals of publishing” by giving away. Really. All they ask in return is that you make a donation to a charity or someone in need, list it on their page, and then give the book to someone else when you are done with it. I did this once, and it works very nicely. Their current books is IOU, a multi-genre collection of writing on money edited by Ron Slate. To receive it, all you need to do is request a book.

Win This Book!
This week’s giveaway book is I Was Hitler’s Chauffeur: The Memoirs of Erich Kempka. Kempka served as Hitler’s personal driver from 1934 to the end in 1945, and was part of many intimate moments with Hitler and his personal associates. To enter, all you need to do is send us an e-mail with “Win This Book” in the subject line and the title of the book in the body of the e-mail. We will collect names and draw one on Friday, May 14. (Winners are limited to one book a month.) We apologize to our international readers but postal costs prohibit our mailing books outside the United States.

Imaging Books & Reading:
One of the reasons Paris is known as the Eternal City has to be because of its famous book stalls. They never change. Oh, sure, the books change but the whole atmosphere of stopping along the sidewalks to browse will never change as you can see in this old image and this new one.

Of Interest:
Strange Maps is the blog of a map lover named Frank Jacobs who finds most atlases too predictable for his taste. His preference: “cartographic curiosa.” A journalist and author, he also hosts this blog that roams over cartographic misconceptions, political parity, whatchamacallit, obscure proposals, and fantastic maps of all kinds that span centuries, continents, outer space and the imagination. In a post entitled “Bienvenue à Shakespeareville,” he discusses the poster designed by a recent French festival that shows the “French love-hate for Shakspeare” as “a microcosm of the push and pull of Anglo-French relations over the last few centuries.” Jacobs has also published a book based on the blog, a great gift for any cartographic fans you know.

This Week . . .
The Cary Collection is a library specializing in the history and practice of printing. It began as a personal collection of 2.300 volumes owned by businessman Melbert B. Cary, Jr., director of Continental Type Founders Association, a former president of the American Institute of Graphic Arts, and proprietor of the private Press of the Woolly Whale. Though the library is located in New York, it offers access online to its superb collection of images. Their Image Database allows anyone to view their collections from medieval manuscripts through the twentieth century. Professional designers probably knows about this, but it is a lovely site for anyone with an interest in typfaces, book design, and related subjects like bookbinding and letterpress.

Until next week, read well, read often and read on!

Lauren