An Homage to Tom

Good morning, readers! It's 6 a.m. in Tennessee and I can't fall back asleep. I blame Emma the Cat. You see, she was rather noisily running up and down the halls, which on wood floors make my nine pound cat sound like Bagheera.

But readers, I also blame Tom Junod. In the June/July Esquire, he wrote a profile on Brad Pitt that I can't get out of my head. Yeah, I know it's Brad Pitt—boring celebrity vagabond extraordinaire, blah blah blah. Yet, my oohs and ahhs had little to do with the story of Pitt's life and loves, but instead with the manner in which it was so effectively executed.

The Tom Junod.

 Here's a sample of Junod's description of Pitt that gave me goosebumps:

His hair, surfer-blond at the ends, is pulled back into a short ponytail, and his whiskers, gray as an old dog's muzzle, cover a face resolutely golden in color and grainy in texture. He's wearing large sunglasses. When he takes them off, he reveals eyes that are blue and tired and wary, animated by alternating currents of curiosity and self-regard, and each bracketed by wrinkles that resemble a child's drawing of the sun. He has a neck full of gold chains, tokens of his aesthetic alliance to the seventies. He is bigger than you might think, and his ears are smaller, almost decorative. He is slightly pigeon-toed, with a rolling production of a walk suitable to a man who wears spurs.

I mean, damn, right? Goosebumps, again. What I love most about Junod is his penetrating eye and keen sense of his surroundings. Not only does he nail the sensory details, but also delves deep into the college drop-out from Springfield, Mo. Junod finds the father, the dork, the artist, the lover, the humanitarian and motorcycle fiend hidden behind the fog of the celebrity limelight.

The June/July Esquire cover.

It's a long piece, but every word is expertly placed. Do give it a read, dear readers. You won't regret it.

Plus, here is a piece detailing Junod's experience writing the article. Another excellent read to pair with your morning coffee.

Summer Reading Woes

Hullo dear readers,

Apologies for not writing sooner. You see, I replaced you with a two-day retreat to my family's lake house in the middle of nowhere Tennessee. No Internet, no phone service, etc. Instead of reading (GASP), I spent my days fishing, riding in a boat and helping my dad rearrange some of the lake house duds. 

 

A view from the most comfortable couch in the world.

But no fear, this Book Borrower has found WiFi at last and in no better place than my mother's front porch. Have I ever mentioned that our house shares a yard with the Robertson County library? Fret none, readers; I've attached photos to verify my tale. 

Library on left and our house on the right.

Another view. 

Yet, even with these fantastic locales, I find myself facing the one problem all readers face this time of year: the summer reading list. The guilt that comes from making a list that you know you'll never finish; the fear of starting a book only to loathe it 10 pages in; or the overwhelming sensation of simply not knowing where to start. Well, in the past 45 minutes of attempting to compose my own list, I've experienced them all. It's a yucky feeling. 

Here's my work-in-progress reading list:

1. The Passage by Justin Cronin (recommended by my mom, plus who doesn't love a vampire lore)

2. Middlemarch by George Eliot (recommended by the most interesting man in the world, Jeff Jeske)

3. Neverwhere by Neil Gaiman (that I borrowed from a friend over a year ago)

4. The Kings and Queens of Roam by Daniel Wallace (you know, the guy that wrote Big Fish)

5. The Memory of Old Jack by Wendell Berry (because Berry is a fabulous hippie)

6. IQ84 by Haruki Murakami (apparently it's beautifully written and compelling)

7. Southern Cross the Dog: A Novel by Bill Cheng (recommended by Ann Patchett and I have an autographed copy)

Here's the problem: these are all novels. I need some non-fiction and poetry in my life. Do send me your suggestions, recommendations and methods of avoiding the summer-reading-list woes.

Fifty Shades of Greyhound

Hullo dear readers,

Well, it's been a while, but this Book Borrower is back in action (with semi-loyal cat, Emma, in tow). Quite a bit has changed in the last year, but here's the short version: I'm now a grad student at the Missouri School of Journalism; I've decided I want to be a magazine editor when I grow up; and Emma the Cat has gained 3 pounds and a new found love of laundry baskets.

But some things have yet to change. 

For one, this Book Borrower still believes that books, articles, short stories and poetry of all genres should be read, shared and discussed; hence, the purpose of this blog. Each day I will post something   I've read, happened upon or was intrigued by. 

Today, I want to share an article from one of my favorite magazines, the Oxford American. Now, to fully appreciate the wondrous and twisted tale written by S.C.A.D. professor and occasional columnist, Harrison Scott Key, first there's something I should confess. 

I've been considering riding a Greyhound bus. I'm sure the first question and/ or statement is either one of disgust or a stifled "why"? But hey, it can't be that bad, I thought. I went to a hippie college, I've seen things and totally experienced enough at age 24 to make this trek, right? 

According to Key, wrong. Did that stop him?

No. Should it have? Hell yes.

You see, the idea of traveling across the country is idyllic, dare I say old-school-Americana cool. Key wanted to see mountains, but (God help him) he saw so much more. Not just the stereotypical filthy toilets and deranged cannibalistic mountain men; nope, I'm talking Greyhound crazy. One notable was a woman who appeared to be balancing a bologna sandwich on her head, while also donning a blue Snuggie. I won't give too much away, but it's one of those articles that had me nodding my head in agreement in between bouts of gut-busting laughter. Think an irreverent Bill Bryson and you've conjured an image of Key in your mind's eye.

Yet, this still leaves me with a question. To bus or not to bus? Read "Fifty Shades of Greyhound" by Key and let me know what you think.

 http://www.oxfordamerican.org/articles/2013/may/27/issue-81-fifty-shades-greyhound/

'Til then dear readers,

Good night and happy reading.