So it looks like today is another double post day!!
This is a note from Katarina West, author of Witchcraft Coulture. Her book just came out today, and she was looking for some people to review it. I don’t know how she found out about me, but Katarina is very nice and even wrote a “little note” for you guys!
Here it is:
Living and Loving Books in Italy
I live in Italy, which means that most things here start and finish with eating. It’s not unusual, for example, that you drive for hours to have lunch at that favourite lunch place of yours, the one that has only three tables and a waiting-list months long. Nor it is unusual that when my husband comes home from work I don’t ask him how his day has been, but what he has eaten for lunch.
In Italy, after all, the two things are more or less the same thing.
That perhaps explains why I often compare eating with reading, and books with food. And the similarities are there, you know, starting from the fact that most of us don’t have just one kind of favourite food, but many. There’s comfort food and healthy food and party food and once-in-a-lifetime food and in-laws-come-for-a-Sunday-lunch food, and so on and so forth, just to name a few.
And if books are like food, then we’ve all got many types of favourite books. At least I have. There are, for example, books that for me are the equivalent of Häagen-Dazs ice-cream, and I read them when I need a perfect escape, for which reason I can’t imagine living without Sophie Kinsella’s funny, bubbly stories, or John Grisham’s page-turners, or Jennifer Weiner, or many of my other favourite chick lit, cosy mystery or suspense authors.
Then there also books that taste like French nouvelle cuisine: they’re complicated and refined, and it takes an effort to read them, but I make that effort willingly because reading them is an experience you remember long afterwards, just like I’ll always remember the dinner in that well-known five-star restaurant with starched white napkins and abundant cutlery. This is why I love each and every book Toni Morrison has written – just as I love the intensity of Louis-Ferdinand Céline, or the humanity of Anton Chekhov, or the melancholic elegance of Marguerite Duras. And above all, I love Fyodor Dostoyevsky, who is my favourite author par excellence, and one of the first authors to show me what it means to be a writer.
So books are like food, and it’s impossible to live without either of them. But the good news is that unlike food, books are completely calorie-free. I can devour as many Stephen Kings or Patricia Highsmiths or John Irvings as I want, and I don’t have to go jogging or start a crash diet the day after.
You see now, why it is so wonderful to be a bookaholic?
What do y’all think?