I have just finished reading a most wonderful book, "An Anthropology of Turquoise", by Ellen Meloy. No, wonderful is a woefully inept word to describe it. Each page is so rich with voluptuous descriptions, you feel you have dined on lobster and champagne with each paragraph. With chapter titles like: "Swimming the Mojave", "The Silk That Hurls Us Down Its Spine", and "A Field Guide to Brazen Harlotry", you're assured that good reading awaits beyond the pretty, eye-catching cover.
The book was a gift; a "reward" to myself. Actually, I had answered an online query about office products, and many months later, an Amazon gift certificate was emailed to me as a way of thanks. To a confessed bibliophile like myself, this was manna from heaven. I couldn't tell you how I found the book, I don't remember what phrase I used for searching. Perhpas it was "seeking your inner goddess" or to quote a very funny passage in this book: "Women Who Run Their Pantyhose With Wolves". Something spoke to me when I clicked on the title, spoke so loudly, I also purchased "Raven's Exile: A Season On The Green River", which I am greedily hoarding for my next "curling up" like expensive Belgian chocolate. There is still another title I must purchase now, "The Last Cheater's Waltz". I am most definitely addicted to this author's brand of book brain-candy.
Meloy's eloquent writing will nourish your mind and replenish your soul, to say nothing of her unintended lessons in good prose. No words I have written, or will ever write, can come within a country mile of this lady's talent. While being totally immersed in the story, I found myself in awe of her phrasing, her ability to create the picture in my mind's eye. Thrown in with all this magnificent storytelling, is just the right amount of genuine chuckle; a self-effacing, poignant humor.
My most loved-to-death books have numerous dog-eared pages turned down while reading; words that must be remembered and revisted. Certain passages jump off the page with the deft strokes of my neon yellow highlighter, allowing my eyes to find the special words more easily long after the last sentence has been read. I would love to quote for you all of my discoveries and "ah ha's!" that were carefully marked for future reference while reading "Anthropology", but there are simply too many. However, I just can't resist this passage:
Intoxication seems the purist form of worship and, for another week, we are held in the Russian olive's holy trance. The fragrance remains strong even through a pall of smoke from fires in New Mexico, a haze that dilutes the valley's usual razor-sharp edges and makes the distances appear washed and limp with an uncomfortable grayness. Not even the red of the rock can shine through. Then more spring rain comes - I smell rain, smoke, and Russian olive even in my sleep - and the land is cleansed again, the blue sky and vivid edges return and , out in the canyons, the wildflowers push toward their final ecstasy.
This is but a crumb, a tantalizing hors d'oeuvre from Meloy's literary cuisine, truly delicious reading. Dig in.
*I suggest a full-bodied merlot with this book, but a very chilled, spicy zinfandel would work just as well. Be sure to tuck a nice linen napkin on your lap to catch the drool while you read. Bon Appetit!
Who Is Cowtown Pattie?
- Cowtown Pattie
- I was Lillie Langtry in another life, and might have a crush on Calamity Jane.
4 comments:
Pattie,
Your enjoyment is bordering on lewdness. Human beings aren't supposed to have this much fun. Take two Molly Ivins essays and call a doctor if you don't come down.;)
I have always told anybody who would listen that a writer has two huge advantages over the movie director. An unlimited special effects budget, and telepathic communication with the characters.
If the writer has the skill and can paint it in the reader's mind, no special effect, no matter how complex, is beyond his grasp. Likewise with the thoughts and emotions of the characters. A movie watcher can only guess what the characters are thinking and feeling while the reader knows with absolute certainty.
I don't read fiction much anymore, too busy with the real stuff. But when I was younger I traveled to other galaxies, hobnobbed with talking dinosaurs, and looted treasure ships on the Spanish Main.
Thanks for reminding me.
gowain
Ah, Pattie - I know the pleasures of which you speak and lack the time, these days, to indulge them. I keep handing off books I know I will relish one day to friends because they stack up unread. You've made me realize that I must reorder my time.
Ronni
Gowain: Meloy writes nonfiction, but her ability to transport you is no less than the very best fictional writers. She is a naturalist who lives several months of the year on the Green River with her husband, who works as a River Ranger for the parks service. Enjoyable AND educational reading. Moved me enough to want to move to the desert and commune with nature and my soulmate. Trash the electronics, and full speed ahead. If only....
Ronni: I go through phases where I read, and then there are the dry spells. Everytime I picked up a book again, I wonder what took me so long.
I know what you mean. I do learn from reading a great writer its seeing the way they see just as a great artist sees the world differently and can show us that view with brush or camera or music score...
I will keep my eyes peeled for this one!
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