The Overflowing Reading List

One of the many great things about working in a library is the unfettered access to just about book that catches your fancy. Then you go and retire. The economy tanks. Libraries cut their book budgets. What’s a reader to do? Wait for months on end to see if your local library even orders the more obscure titles, or just give in and buy them? The answer is obvious.

Suddenly, my bookshelf is overflowing. Titles from the past mingle with new ones. When I was a public librarian, part of my collection development assignment was “esoteric fiction.” This usually meant “translated from the Bulgarian” or “First time in print since 1927.” I’m happy to say that, due to my endless promotion of these out of the mainstream title, they all circulated well.

So, for the foreseeable future, I’ve given up buying books and am going to read the ones I have bought. And here they are:

We Need to Talk About Kevin (2003) by Lionel Shriver. A novel in letters, a woman writes to her former husband trying to decipher her tortured relationship with her son, Kevin, a high-school mass murderer. Recommended by John Waters.

Turn of Mind (2011) by Alice LaPlante. The novel features a hand surgeon with Alzheimer's who may or may not be complicit in her best friend's death.

Sarah’s Key (2007) by Tatiana de Rosnay. Alternating between 1942 and the present day, this novel chronicles the gleeful collaboration between the citizens of Paris and the Nazis, when the city’s Jews were rounded up and housed in the Vélodrome d’Hiver as a way-station to concentration camps.

The Tiger’s Wife (2011) by Téa Obreht. A young Croatian women tries to solve the mystery of her beloved grandfather’s death. Winner of the 2011 Orange prize.

Tigerlily’s Orchids (2011) by Ruth Rendell. I try to read every Rendell (and Barbara Vine) book that’s published. It’s not just that the stories are so engrossing, but also that she knows how to use the English language to it’s best effect.

Stones from the River (1994) by Ursula Hegi. I missed this one when it came out, despite all the favorable press and its main character is a librarian and a dwarf. The fourth volume of her “Burgdorf” series. I like long series, having made my way through The Forsyte Saga (John Galsworhty), Dance to the Music of Time (Anthony Powell), and Strangers and Brothers (C.P. Snow).

The Man Who Loved Children (1940) by Christina Stead. The unrelenting story of the ultimate dysfunctional family, this Australian novel has been equally praised and damned. Another John Waters recommendation.

Harvard’s Secret Court (2005) by William Wright. In 1920 Harvard University went through system-wide homosexual panic. A secret panel was set up that made the HUAC investigations a walk in the park. Now, 90 years later, gays can marry in Massachusetts.

As Meat Loves Salt (2001) by Maria McCann. An historical novel set during the English Civil War, with love, passion, and obsession. Not my usual fare, but it was recommended by Lionel Shriver.

The Borrower (2011) by Rebecca Makkai. Lucy Hull, a young children’s librarian, finds herself both kidnapper and kidnapped when her favorite patron, a ten-year-old boy, runs away from home. Recommended by a fellow Infopeep.

The Indian Clerk (2007) by David Leavitt. In this novel, based on the true story of the strange and tragic relationship between British mathematician G.H. Hardy and self-taught Indian genius Srinivasa Ramanujan, Cambridge University comes alive with the luminaries of the day.

Time’s Arrow (1991) by Martin Amis. Another recommendation from Lionel Shriver, the novel centers around Tod T. Friendly, a doctor living in a peaceful American suburb, who once worked in the medical section at Auschwitz. There’s a doppelganger narrator living inside him who has a separate consciousness that travels from death to birth, trying to understand his life history.

Queen Lucia (1920) by E.F. Benson. Not many laughs in the titles above, so here’s the start of a great six-novel series in lovely little English villages between the wars.

The Case of the Man Who Died Laughing (2010) by Tarquin Hall. A friend reviewed another book by Hall on her reading blog, so I thought I’d give the one, a mystery featuring Vish Puri, Delhi’s most private investigator.

Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy (1974) by John le Carré. Back, yet again, to an old favorite, the first part of the “Quest for Karla” series. The best spy novel by the best spymaster. And, thank you, Costco, for having all three volumes on sale. The others in the series are also on this list

So, I’m going to stop reading the New York Times Book Review, the New York Review of Books, Times Literary Supplement, and just about anything else that may tempt me into adding to this list before I’ve finished reading everything on it. And the way I read, it should take me a couple of years!

WATCH: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part 2

OK. The party’s over. The kids have all grown up. Evil is vanquished, and a new generation is on it’s way to Hogwarts. All is well with the world.

When I came out of the theater today I looked up at the marquee and saw this. My iPhone captured a Kodak moment! Funny, I don’t remember Winnie being bossy at all. Wait. Didn't they used to call Winston Churchill "Winnie"? Hah. Now it all makes sense. Disney does WWII.

WATCH: Damages Season 3

There are so many wonderful things about Damages that it should be banned as a class A drug. There are so few good people, and the bad ones are so very bad. It’s better than chocolate!

The third season has old favorites from the past, Glenn Close, Rose Byrne, and Tate Donovan. But the new cast members surpass even those from the first two years: Len Cariou, Campbell Scott, Martin Short, Keith Carradine, and a frightening Lily Tomlin.

The story concerns a Bernie Madoff-like character and the hunt for his hidden assets. That’s just the major theme. It’s all the little and big moves each person makes that turns every episode into a chess match. And who is there to root for? Every one – all the time.

As in previous years, the main story is told in flashbacks. We know who gets murdered, but not why or by whom. As the story slowly unfolds, more people die, and it’s impossible to tell who’s lying and who isn’t. It doesn’t matter. We’re in it for the ride.

In Episode 5, Lily Tomlin gives a look to Tate Donovan that is so full of hate, contempt and animus that I just know in my heart of hearts that she’s the person responsible for his murder. (That’s not a spoiler. He dies I Episode 1.)

Unfortunately, Season 4 is only available on DirectTV, so I guess I’ll have to wait for it to come out on DVD. I can hardly wait.

READ: Cinderella & Company by Manuela Hoelterhoff

Like many arts organizations these days, the New York City Opera has fallen on tough times. Really tough times. Low funds, a seemingly inept board of directors, a company manager in over his head, unhappy employees from singers and musicians to house staff and management. The blogosphere is hopping with interest, opinion, and bloodlust.

One place to read opinion, heated and calm, outrageous and commonsensical, is the blog Parterre, owned and managed by the music critic for the New York Sun. (No wonder it’s so bitchy!) One name that crops up there constantly is Manuela Hoelterhoff, a former writer for the Wall Street Journal who won a Pulitzer Prize for “cultural criticism.” She now writes for bloomberg.com. She’s been a figure in the NYC art world for decades, and she can be just as bitchy as those opera queens on Parterre. It’s an awful lot of fun at other people’s expense.

Anyway, in 1998, Knopf published her book, Cinderella & Company: Backstage at the Opera with Cecilia Bartoli. It covers one year (1997-98) and follows the great Italian mezzo around the world, chronicling her triumphs, fears, family problems, artists’ managers, and just about everything else. It also tells lots of stories about other popular singer, including Deborah Voigt, Roberta Alanga, Angela Gheorghiu, James Levine, and especially the two main tenors from the Three Tenors gang. Some of the anecdotes are pretty funny, some just sad. The reason she shows up on lots of opera blogs is her view of musicians, as quoted from this book: “making videos is increasingly hard to do in a world of larcenous unions who work hard at working as little as possible for as much as possible.”

What’s also interesting is how much things have changed in the dozen years since the book was published. In spite of her forays into esoteric music, Bartoli is still the best-selling classical vocal artist, the dream husband-and-wife team Alanga and Gheorghiu have gone their separate ways, Pavarotti is dead, and Voigt is now as thin as her voice. But Domingo just keeps going like the Energizer bunny, while Levine tries to just keep going. But, as she rightly observes, “There’s always someone in the wings.”