A Timely Word.

I ran across this word in a book about writing fiction.

I think it's one of my new favorites.

Are you ready?

Bricolage

The Range of Red

Books With a Past

The bookplate in my copy of The Great Good Thing by
Roderick Townley (recommended).

Confession:  I used to be a clean book snob.  In other words, I was horrified at the idea of marking a book, only wanted "clean copies" of anything I bought, and considered it a sort of crime to take to a book with a highlighter.  (Pencil was only a misdeamenor; it could be erased.)  I attribute this partly to my perfectionism and partly to my desire that the markings not obscure the contents of the book.  It seemed an intrusion on my experience of the text, a private encounter that I didn't want interrupted.

But times have changed.  I'm in college, and have found that sometimes one serves the spirit of a book best and learns from it most thoroughly when one marks it up.  I underline in my books now and scribble notes in the margins.  I haven't persuaded myself to highlight yet, but the day may come.  I also write my name in any book I don't think I'll want to sell to a grateful underclassman.  (I say that with no condescension; I was that grateful underclassman myself.)  I've considered getting bookplates, but in the end concluded that my handwritten name was better - partly because I've become fond of the inscriptions and labels in used books I've bought.  They hint at the life the book had before it came to me.

In the upstairs bookcase there's an old, old book of American poetry that's been in the family for years, in which my great-grandfather scribbled notes enough to cover the back endpapers.  There's the name and address from a nearby town in the book of English poetry I bought in a thrift store.  The single name "Nolan" is scribbled in my copy of Goops and How to Be Them by Gelett Burgess.  There are stamps and card pockets in discarded library books, sometimes from another state.  There's the note on the front endpapers of Gulliver's Travels (which I've yet to read!): "To John - Happy Birthday!  Lots of good wishes and lots of good reading.  Love, Aunt Lois & Uncle Lewis."  All these books had lives before I picked them up; other readers laughed at them, gawked at them, frowned at them, contemplated them.  These inscriptions remind me that my experience of a book is something to be enriched, not interrupted, by others' thoughts.  They remind me that reading at its best is a dialogue, not a one-way street.  They remind me that I don't read alone.

In the past, I would reach the blank last page of my "clean copies" of books and find I had a swelling tide of questions, comments, and arguments, which I expended on my family and wished I could share with a wider circle of readers.  The history of my books urges me to find these other readers, book in hand, and ask them, "What did YOU think?"  And maybe, someday, I'll pass on my books with an added inscription of my own, vaguely linking my reading with the next reader's, and somehow, anonymously, linking our two lives.
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It turns out I'm not the only one interested in book inscriptions from people I've never met.  See this blog, Lonesome Books, for a wide variety of inscriptions.  I was also interested in this New York Times article, which tells the story of a man who reconnected with an old friend through finding some old books that had his name in them.

Also, if you're looking for a rationale for marking the text of your books, I recommend "How to Mark a Book" by Mortimer J. Adler - it's the essay that persuaded me.

Exoplanets {from XKCD}

Once upon a time, I wanted to be an astronomer.  Now I'm glad at least I know enough to read the news with some intelligence.  Things like this make me open my eyes wide and grin.

Minnesota is Epic (Expanded Version)

From the 16th to the 23rd of the month I visited a dear friend from my college at her home near Minneapolis, MN.  It was the first time I had spent much time in Minnesota; my experience of Minneapolis was limited to the airport and the train station.  I had no idea what a treat I was in for.

Here are some highlights of my trip (and, by way of implication, places you should visit if given the chance!).

• Park Rapids, MN & Itasca State Park

We visited a relative of my friend's who lives in Park Rapids, MN, about three hours north of Minneapolis-Saint Paul.  The downtown has some of the usual boutique-type stores, but also a unique dollar store (a Ben Franklin) and grocery store which seem to indicate there's more to the community than the summer crowd.

This old Chevy truck (left), stunningly maintained, was parked in front of a café.  As we enjoyed our drinks in the sunroom, we noticed the driver get in with two large poodles, one white and one black.

Within a shortish drive of Park Rapids is Itasca State Park, where the headwaters of the Mississippi River flow through notable stands of red and white pine; they were saved from lumber interests at the turn of the 20th Century by the courageous actions of the first Park Commissioners.  (One interim commissioner, Mary Gibbs, stood up to lumbermen with guns who had refused to open a dam that was causing the shoreline to flood.)  

The Mississippi River originates in Lake Itasca.

The rocks in the lower part of the picture (above) form a stepping-stone path across the creek that flows out of the lake, which is the start of the Mississippi.  It's not more than thirty feet wide.  Lake Itasca also has a swimming area; it was lovely on the day we went, with a gusting breeze rippling the water.  (Right, the marker at the lake.)

Itasca State Park has many other smaller bodies of water and the famous pine forests.  We drove around the 5 mile one-way loop that gives an excellent view of the park's beauty and opportunities to stop for the state's largest white pine, the (former) largest red pine (until it was damaged in a windstorm), and a very tall lookout tower.  Along the road we were delighted to spot a cluster of Showy Lady Slippers, the Minnesota state flower (below).

(Pardon me for a moment while I dance in honor of the bokeh I miraculously got.)

•  Como Park, Zoo, & Conservatory in Saint Paul, MN

  While I was growing up I spent a considerable amount of time wandering around zoos and museums with family and friends.  I harbor much nostalgia for both, and have by no means outgrown a child's excitement about them.  Consequently, when my Minnesotan friend asked me if I had any requests of things to do during my visit, one of my items was visiting a zoo.  (The other was swimming in a lake, which we did at Itasca State Park.)
  
  
  
  I couldn't have asked for a nicer little zoo than the Como Zoo in St. Paul.  (Left, a view of the conservatory, which we didn't have time to visit.  I hope I can make it back, because things of that kind are another especial delight of mine.)  I was astonished at the friendliness of the animals.  They had no hesitation in coming up to their glass barriers or staring back at the people staring at them, sometimes with insolence.  One of these snow leopards, below, stared at me for almost ten minutes.  I don't know why.  Old jokes would suggest maybe I looked delicious but I kind of doubt that.  Maybe it was the gray velour sweatshirt I was wearing; probably looked a little like moleskin.
  
  

  

  (The streaks are from the glass I was photographing through)

  
  
  Some of the animals wanted to show off (Mr. Sea Lion, I'm looking at you) but others were more interested in having a quiet day (Mr. Land Lion, right).  Some merely seemed content to go about their daily business in the public eye, like the orangutan mother spoiling her baby with some affectionate roughhousing - right next to the glass.  One of my most exciting encounters was with that illustrious creature, the Tufted Puffin.  I never did quite figure out to what purpose this noble bird was going through his antics - I suppose it was his bath, though that seems paradoxical in the case of a waterbird - but I certainly enjoyed watching.
  
  
  
  
  
  The seahorses seemed merely bewildered (left).
  
  
  One of the other joys of visiting zoos is watching the humans who come to see them.  It was raining on and off during our visit.  During one heavy shower, we took cover under an overhang not far from an umbrella-sheltered table where a few families with small children had parked.  One family had all the children in shades of yellow, wonderful for regathering them when they scattered.  They were all running about getting soaked, jumping in puddles, dancing through the raindrops.  I watched the little girl's unaffected, somehow both graceful and clumsy movements, and wished I could still dance with that much unselfconsciousness.  A few minutes later we passed the same family on the way out and I noticed all their shoes had disappeared.
   

• The Lego Store, Mall of America, Minneapolis, MN

  Let me be honest and tell you right now that I'm not a big fan of malls.   However, I wanted to see Mall of America because the descriptions of its size were bogglingly large (78 football fields?) and it seemed a curiosity.  I did enjoy seeing it (and being treated to socks at Little MissMatched, thank you, kind friend), and yes, it was bogglingly large.
  
  Although I am not a big fan of malls, I am a big fan of Lego.  Consequently this view caused me to stop and stare a bit.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The blue legs you can barely see behind the bridge belong to a fearsome sort of machine, right.  If you love Lego, you ought visit this store (or the one at Water Tower Place in Chicago, which I've heard is comparable).  They have kits for sale from most of their major lines: Technics, City, Star Wars, Architecture.  Yes, if you were wondering, I bought one.  I waffled between Anakin Skywalker's pod and Luke Skywalker's vehicle that floats (can't remember the name) and finally settled on a real-world mining truck.  With a boulder and gold crystals.  And a Lego guy with a plaid shirt and a beard!  Does it get better than that?  I gave the kit to a sibling of mine as a gift.  However, if I'd been a child visiting this store, I think I'd probably have wanted handfuls and handfuls from this wall of bricks.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  They didn't have this many colors when I was little.  Pout.

The hardest part of a trip to describe is the just hanging around, enjoying the area, not particularly sightseeing.  I enjoyed that as much as "seeing things."  Minneapolis-Saint Paul seems to be a great area to hang around in.  The cities are clean and situated beautifully.  Check it out!

View of Minneapolis over Lake Calhoun

Are you taking a trip this summer?  I'd love to hear about it!

~

NB:  All photos in this post are by me and belong to me.  You're welcome to pin them but please no copying. : )