Or there's this lovely poem of hers . . . here.

A sad day for poetry lovers the world over: the loss of Adrienne Rich.


For an example (though I'm sure you've heard of her), try this gorgeous poem.

I do so love to sink into a good book of good words.  Liliane Welch's Seismographs (which is not so easy to get now) is an absolute treat for the mind and soul.  I enjoyed it immensely. The perfect book to dip into while waiting for the Little Inkslinger to finish eating and slip off into dreamland (okay, it did take me a month and a half to finish this slim volume because most times I was in fascinated awe watching every move the Little Inkslinger made and couldn't make time for reading . . . which is, as book addictive as I am, something of a first).  She wrote inspiringly and intelligently about the act of writing, about poetry, about how writing is tied to place.  And the fact that she shared her time between New Brunswick and Europe makes for an interesting juxtaposition of places and influences.  

This is the kind of book I wish I could read all the time . . . engaging, direct and original in its unapologetic individuality, and full of word love.  It made me want to start writing again (there's been a bit of a writing hiatus at our house lately.  Baby related distractions abound).


For a little bio on Liliane Welch, try here.  

You know those neglected books lying about the shelves? The ones you may or may not have enjoyed, but you're pretty sure that either way you're not going to read again?  Yep. It's that time of year again. Time to purge and reorganize those shelves, and, this year, make more room for the Little Inkslinger's book collection. He's barely more than a month old, but he already has a little library growing. That's what comes of having book addicts for parents, I suppose. :)


Some examples of books being purged (though some were enjoyable, I'm just unlikely to revisit them.  A keeper is a book that belongs, one that I want to return to and live in repeatedly. It has to be more than just an interesting, well-written, or enjoyable read. It has to be the kind of read I don't mind dusting for decades . . .and I do so hate dusting): 


Zadie Smith's White Teeth, which I really did enjoy reading and I would definitely read other Zadie Smith works (plan to so so, in fact).  But I can't see myself revisiting this particular novel anytime soon.  


And then there's The Fourth Bear by Jasper Fforde. I love Fforde -- clever and funny and interestingly plotted -- but, again, I am unlikely to reread this particular novel.  It's not a world I will return to again and again.  I'll keep Shades of Grey instead.  


Mr. Shakespeare's Bastard by Richard B. Wright has found its way into the give-away box.  Although I enjoy Wright's writing, this story just didn't stick in my imagination.  


Less successfully rendered novels (and therefore easier to chuck into the give-away box) are those like The Final Act of William Shakespeare by Robert Winder.  Not horrible, but too ambitious in my opinion.  It just didn't deliver on the Shakespeare end.  I didn't believe it was really Shakespeare doing and speaking.  A believable Shakespeare is, admittedly, rather tricky to conjure up in a work of fiction.  I've only seen one (so far) that managed to come close to being satisfying and that was the one written by Stoppard and performed by Joseph Fiennes in Shakespeare In Love. And even that rendition was perhaps mostly successful (or partially successful) only because of the comedy.


I'm also adding Kill Shakespeare to the box.  If one forgets one has read something, well, that doesn't bode well for one's desire to reread.  


I've decided I need to be more demanding of my authors.  I want to spend time with books that enrich, challenge, dazzle, create worlds that I want to dwell in and return to time and time again. I should be unwilling to give money, time, and shelf space to those books that do not live up to those criteria. Life is too precious to waste on the mediocre. 

Reading Liliane Welch's Siesmographs (Ragweed Press, 1988):

"In our epoch of noise and frenzy, solitude can be a great resource in which one can profitably dwell and from which one can draw strength. Thus one must still cultivate and merit it."