I recently grabbed a my well-read copy of Bill Bryson’s A Walk In the Woods because I was in serious need of a laugh.  Bryson’s writing never fails to make me laugh; his turn of a phrase and sharp wit crack me up.  My husband glanced over to see what I was laughing about and said in an exasperated tone, “You’re reading that book again?”

I shot him a look and continued reading.  But his comment got me thinking about re-reading books.  Now, I’ve seen my hubby re-read a few books in his day, but I take re-reading to a whole new level.  I’ve read all of Bill Bryson’s books at least twice, and a few of them more than five or six times.  I’ve gone through the first three books of Harry Potter series a dozen times easily.  I’ve re-read Megan McCafferty’s Jessica Darling series a bunch of times, too.

BB+NM 4-EVA

So, does re-reading books make me, “arrogant, narrow-minded, or dull” as Jack Thurston contends in an article he penned (Why Re-Reading is a Crime) for The Guardian in July 2007?  I’d like to think not, and after doing a bit of research online I learned that I’m not alone in my re-reading compulsion.  Articles in defense of re-reading have been featured in an op-ed piece for the New York Times, and articles in The New Yorker and Newsweek.

Now, I’ll admit that my re-read choices may not be classics from the literary canon that the supporters are writing about, but my books have merit and offer entertainment and cozy, familiar characters.  Like a favorite pair of perfectly broken-in jeans, I just love these books and can’t bear to let them languish on my shelves.  I realize that my re-reading might seem a bit excessive, but sometimes I only re-read portions of my favorite books.

Thurston argues that I’m wasting time and missing out on other authors, but I have to disagree.  I read more new books in a year than the average person–I think book bloggers in general read waaaay more than the rest of the population–and so I take exception to that point too.  I also take issue with the notion that I’m re-reading books because I’m dull and didn’t get the gist the first time through.  Nope, that’s not true either.

As the pro-re-reading faction argues, re-reading a book is like listening to a favorite song more than once (or twice!).  I’ll take  it a step further and compare re-reading books to watching a movie or television show more than once.  I’ve seen Back to the Future, The Wizard of Oz, The Graduate, and Goonies multiple times and still enjoy them.  Does that make me arrogant, narrow-minded, or dull?  (That’s a rhetorical question, friends.)

Now, if you’ll be kind enough to excuse me, I have to get back to re-reading A Walk in the Woods.

walkTitle: A Walk in the Woods

Author: Bill Bryson

Genre/Pages: Nonfiction/274

Publication: Broadway Books (Crown Publishing: Random House); 1999

Rating: 4.5 BOOKMARKS

A hilarious account of one middle-aged man’s attempt to get in shape and commune with nature by walking one of the oldest hiking trails in the United States.  Bill Bryson and his childhood friend, Stephen Katz, embark on the 2,100+ mile journey and it’s so beyond their abilities that it’s a wonder they made it out of the woods alive.  Part hysterical memoir, part history and nature lesson, Bryson can tell a tale like no one else.

I’ve read A Walk in the Woods a dozen or more times and I laugh myself into asthma attacks each time.  My husband hates when I bring a Bill Bryson book to bed because it means I’ll be shaking the bed with paroxysms of laughter and interrupting his reading, regaling him with excerpts from the book.  It goes something like this:

(Snort, guffaw, snort, snort) “Honey, listen to this!!!”

(Bryson commenting on a book about avoiding bear attacks:) The typical black bear-inflicted injury…is minor and usually involves only a few scratches or light bites.”  Pardon me, but what exactly is a light bite?  Are we talking a playful wrestle and gummy nips?  I think not.

Or this:

All the books tell you that if the grizzly (bear) comes for you, on no account should you run.  This is the sort of advice you get from someone who is sitting at a keyboard when he gives it.  Take it from me, if you are in an open space with no weapons and a grizzly comes for you, run.  You may as well.  If nothing else, it will give you something to do with the last seven seconds of your life.

Perhaps this?

A grizzly may chew on a limp form for a minute or two but generally will lose interest and shuffle off.  With black bears, however, playing dead is futile, since they will continue chewing on you until you are considerably past caring.  It is also foolish to climb a tree because black bears are adroit climbers and…you will simply end up fighting the bear in a tree.

When Bryson meets up with his childhood buddy after not seeing him for decades, he’s shocked by his friend’s appearance:

(Since I’d seen him last) he had devoted himself to rectitude and–I instantly saw now as he stooped out the door of the plane–growing a stomach.  Katz was arrestingly larger than when I had last seen him.  He had always been kind of fleshy, but now he brought to mind Orson Welles after a very bad night.  He was limping a little and breathing harder than one ought to after a walk of twenty yards…

The book manages to weave an in-depth history of the Appalachian Trail (and the danger that man and pollution pose to it) into the memoir, while keeping the overall tone humorous.  The trail is a taxing one, traversing 2,100+ miles of wilderness from Georgia to Maine.  The AT travels through my home state–NJ–for 72 miles.  I’ve actually walked part of the trail (a very small part–like .5 miles) in Vermont a few years ago.  We’re not outdoorsy people here–I prefer the beach to the woods, but I wanted to see the white blazes of the AT for myself.

at map

A Walk in the Woods is an entertaining read for anyone who likes to hike or for anyone who has a sense of humor (or a pulse).  Maybe after reading A Walk in the Woods, you’ll be inspired to pack a bag and hit the trail!

Tears On My Pillow (and Pages)

Thanks to the creative writing (and wild imagination) of James Frey (and a few others), the memoir genre has been forever tainted.  Despite the scandals, I remain an unflagging and vocal supporter of nonfiction essays and memoirs.  Some of my favorite authors exclusively pen nonfiction–Bill Bryson and Jen Lancaster to name just two. 

Why do I love these authors so much?  Their writing can, in a single paragraph (or sentence), reduce me to silent, body-shaking laughter.  Or obnoxious, snorting laughter.  Or wheezing, cartoonish, Muttley laughter.  Or I-can’t-catch-my-breath AND I’m crying laughter.

Last night, I was cuddled up in bed whipping through Jen Lancaster’s new book, Pretty in Plaid, which is  due out May 4th–so be on the lookout for my review!  At one point, page 292 to be precise, her writing pushed me over the precipice.  I was ’silent-laughing’ to the point that I couldn’t catch my breath.  My husband grabbed the phone to dial 9-1-1 because he thought I was having a seizure–that’s how hard I was shaking and crying with laughter.

In case you don’t believe me, after I calmed down (20 minutes later), I snapped a picture with my phone (thus explaining the fabulous quality of the picture!).  I submit Exhibit A. as proof to why YOU should be reading nonfiction:

tears-on-my-pillowYes, friends, that’s an actual tear.  And it was not alone.  There was an entire parade of them streaming down my cheeks.  So, if you have given up on the nonfiction genre, I beseech you to reconsider.  Just look at the hilarity you’re missing!

© N.A.M., 2009-2010. Theft and/or duplication of my ramblings, reviews, or photos without permission is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to me. Poachers will be shot. Thank you.