One Book-a-Month Club
One might argue that I use my liberal arts education but little these days. One might even go so far as to say that the most profound use for all that expensive book learnin’ is my ability to mentally cull a six-letter synonym, containing an “e” and a “v,” for the clue “work of art” in the Press and Dakotan’s Friday crossword puzzle. And that the vestiges of my rebellious feminism and bleeding heart liberal loudness of the decade bygone are a sort of shruggish relativism regarding current events and politics.
But for all that, I argue that I can do more than complete the daily crossword with my education … I can appreciate.
I recently finished one of my Christmas gifts, a tome containing a seeming million tiny words in Times New Roman book-ending a handful of glossy plates depicting hats, flounces, poufs, and culottes, all telling the coiffed and coutured tale of the Queen of Fashion, or rather, What Marie Antoinette Wore to the Revolution.
I’ve read many a popular history in my day; my favorite historians have included chroniclers of Britian’s royal Tudors (pre-through-post Renaissance), namely Antonia Fraser and Alison Weir. During my early twenties, I simply couldn’t get enough of the seductive Henry VIII, his wives, his progeny, his court, his court jester … I devoured nearly every bit of fiction and non-fiction I could find about the Tudor family.
Until my days were filled with the rhyming tales of another king: Old King Cole, and his compatriots Humpty Dumpty and Jack Sprat. Although there is certain pleasure in teaching another person about the wonders of books and language, a mother quickly craves a story all her own. So, last year after Adelaide was born, I turned to escapist drivel. Oh surely, I managed to sneak in a Pulitzer Prize winner here and there, but mostly I engaged my mind with trashy, fictional romps involving headstrong heroines and their besotted paramours. Naturally, then, I vowed on New Year’s Eve to read more, not necessarily better (because everyone enjoys an easy, light read every now and again), but just more. I determinedly promised myself to the One Book a Month club.
With a whole stack of uncracked, smooth new Christmas hardcovers filling January, February, March, and April, my vow has not been difficult to keep. Of all the books I opened I was most interested in and most daunted by Marie Antoinette. The hefty historical tome persistently called my name, and – to afraid to start something that I couldn’t finish – I resisted and she sat untouched, collecting late-winter dust. In my mind, non-fiction requires a certain commitment that fiction does not – a certain acceptance of bibliographies, complications, and foot-noting. In the face of Marie Antoinette – a subject that I knew not at all (unless you count that whole “Let them eat cake” episode) – I was daunted.
Until one day, when Adelaide was blissfully napping the afternoon away, I snuck a peek under the cover. I recall barely lifting the corner of the cover and stealing a glance at page one sideways, so that I might quickly snap the book shut and say to myself, “I wasn’t choosing that one for March!” All too quickly, I found myself joyfully enveloped in the author’s satin-smooth introduction, opening with a description of a recent fashion show that paid homage to France’s star-crossed queen. From page one to 300, the story simply flew by, reading both like a comedy of errors and Greek tragedy. The author’s clever use of clothing to describe the often restricted, the always vibrant, the sometimes daring, the forever political rise and fall of Antoinette was a delight.
A delight that has given me the confidence and heart to delve into non-fiction once again.
Comments
I need to join you!! I've been reading Barak Obama's first book since February (ugh!). It's a great book, but working and caring for an infant leaves little time for reading!
Posted by: Donhowe | April 25, 2007 9:29 AM