Ye shall know them by their similes and metaphors…good writers, that is.

The role of a writer is not to say what we all can say, but what we are unable to say. ~Anaïs Nin

I’m starting a list of perfect similes and metaphors, ones that stopped me in my tracks. They are the words and phrases that delight, emphasize, and stun a reader and add to the joy of reading. Here are the first three:

John Seabrook’s description in The New Yorker, Dec.21 and 29, 2009 issue of architect Zaha Hadid’s hands as chilled as cutlery in an airplane’s galley."

Joseph O’Neill in his novel Netherland: “The yellow commuter train ran through canal-crossed fields as dull as graph paper.”

Colum McCann, on The New York Times Opinion Page, December 27, 2009 “I would walk the length of Dun Laoghaire pier - a moving corduroy of sea waves in front of me."

I’d love to have you add to this list simply by responding to this post or by e-mail to barbara1037@gmail.com.

84, Charing Cross Road

Any book lover with a fondness for first editions, rare books, and leather bindings is probably familiar with 84, Charing Cross Road. The address is the title of a true story told in a series of letters between Helene Hanff, a writer living in Manhattan, and Frank Doel, seller of rare and secondhand books at Marks and Co. in London.

The letters started in 1949 when Ms. Hanff sent Marks and Co. a list of secondhand books she wanted. She says, “I am a poor writer with an antiquarian taste in books and all the things I want are impossible to get over here except in very expensive rare editions, or in Barnes & Noble’s grimy, marked-up school-boy copies.”

Through the twenty-year correspondence the reader watches the development of a delightful and often poignant friendship between Hanff and Doel. I was reminded of the book last night as I caught the end of the movie on television which featured Anne Bancroft and Anthony Hopkins as Helene Hanff and Frank Doel and Judi Dench as Mrs. Doel. When I took my yellowed paperback version from my bookcase, I saw that I’d bought my copy in June of 1987 at a bookstore in Stratford-upon-Avon.

Helene Hanff’s dream was to visit London. Like her, it had been one of my wishes, too.

(Note: Editions published in the U.S. omit the comma after 84.)

Same language, different vocabulary

I pulled out the dictionary today when I came across the word ”kerb” in an English novel. From the context, I knew it meant “curb,” the stone separation between a street and a sidewalk.

Had I been using “curb” all these years when I should have written “kerb?” Or are the two words just another example of the differences between British English and American English?

According to the Oxford Concise Dictionary, “curb” is a check or restraint; “kerb” is a stone edging to a pavement or a raised path,

The Random House College Dictionary, however, defines “curb” as a rim of concrete or joined stones forming an edge for a sidewalk. It defines “kerb” simply as a curb. Nothing further.

Lately, I’ve been watching quite a few old BBC television shows and find the differences in the British and American versions of the English language quite interesting.

If you’re now thinking “She ought to get a life,” I might say, “Don’t be so cheeky!”

Okay? O.K.

When I moved to Albany in 1995, one of the first places I visited was Lindenwald, the home of Martin Van Buren, the eighth president of the United States. Lindenwald is located about 35 miles from Albany in the Town of Kinderhook. I learned a great deal that day but the most interesting to me was the derivation of one of our most popular responses.

It seems that while he lived in Kinderhook before he was elected president, Van Buren was given the sobriquet of “Old Kinderhook” and, as such, sometimes initialed requests, documents and other papers with the abbreviation, “O. K.” When he moved to Washington, D.C., he often continued to sign informal papers the same way. “O.K” became popular and that’s how “okay” or “O.K” came to be part of our language.

You might hear other explanations for “okay,” but most people have come to accept the Van Buren story.

For a look at Lindenwald and a tour of its many rooms, visit the National Park Service website. Better yet, if you’re anywhere near New York’s Capital District, go and see this wonderful home.

Hear Ye, Hear Ye

If you’re passionate about books, you must read Steve Quinn’s article about the little seaside town of Sidney, British Columbia, population 11,000. It’s dubbed Canada’s only Booktown because of its collection of twelve independently owned bookshops, each with its own style.

Here is Sidney’s Beacon Books’ Reader’s Bill of Rights.

The right to not read
The right to skip pages
The right to not finish
The right to re-read
The right to read anything
The right to escapism
The right to read anywhere
The right to browse
The right to read out loud
The right to not defend your tastes

Russo Redux

Once disappointed, I tread lightly. That was my thought when I saw that Richard Russo had published a new novel, “That Old Cape Magic.” I’d read and enjoyed “Straight Man,” “Risk Pool” (my favorite Russo book) and “Empire Falls.” When “Bridge of Sighs” came out I was eager to read that, too,

My friends and I have often discussed the reasons why critics heap praise on a novelist’s latest, even if it doesn’t measure up to his or her previous works. That’s what I think happened with “Bridge of Sighs.” Tedious, too long, and lousy editing made it a chore to finish. Now along comes “That Old Cape Magic” which flew to number two on this week’s New York Times Bestseller List in the first week of publication. Critics praise it, of course. After all, “Empire Falls” won the Pulitzer Prize a few years ago.

But Janet Maslin’s review in the August 9th edition of the New York Times confirmed my hesitancy. So I will pass it up. Here’s an excerpt from her review. To read it in its entirety, go to www.nytimes.com/2009/08/10/books/10maslin.html.

It’s Summer at the Cape, but This Is No Vacation
“That Old Cape Magic” is the only Richard Russo novel that has its own theme song. It’s also the only Russo book that needs one. And Mr. Russo supplies enough props, picture postcards and pratfalls to underscore the fragility of his latest venture. Its main character, the autobiographical-sounding Jack Griffin, feels adrift after having lived in the worlds of both moviemaking and academia and is no longer sure where his heart or his talents lie. This entertaining but facile book suggests that Mr. Russo is himself contemplating those same questions.

Changing Genres

If asked to choose just one genre, I’d read literary fiction. I’ve learned, however, that it’s a good idea to sample the other treats on the table. Now, it seems I might be getting hooked on mysteries and thrillers.

Stieg Larsson’s The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo was a wonderful read. (I’ve heard that his second novel, The Girl Who Played with Fire, is even better. So it will go on my list.) Larrson is a very good writer. He developed an intriguing plot with well defined characters. Lisbeth Salander, the “girl” of the title, is a computer hacker who teams up with Mikael Blomkvist, a journalist, to find out the truth about a teenage girl who disappeared thirty years ago. The book combines a family saga and corporate intrigue.

I’ve just finished The Shadow of the Wind by Carlos Ruiz Zafron. I think the reason I picked it up is that it takes place in 1945 in Barcelona, a place on my “to visit” list. To quote Booklist, it is “part detective story, part boy’s adventure, part romance, fantasy and gothic horror.” I enjoyed the book very much and was especially in awe of the intricacies of the plot and how expertly Zafron wove the details.

P. D. James, “widely acknowledged as the greatest contemporary writer of classic crime” (The London Sunday Times) is the author of fifteen crime novels. Recently some friends were discussing what a good writer she is. Though I’ve read two of her crime novels and have probably seen a couple that were dramatized on PBS, I’ve decided to add her and her protagonist, Adam Dalgliesh of Scotland Yard, to the growing pile of books by my bedside.

And a couple of years ago, after hearing it reviewed on the radio, I read Tess Gerritsen’s The Mephisto Club which I thoroughly enjoyed. Fans of the mystery novel have their favorites. Whether it’s Agatha Christie or Josephine Tey or Anne Perry or James Patterson, the stories provide hours of entertainment. And it’s fun trying to guess the outcomes.

What books mean the most to you?

Thanks go to my friend Lois for telling me about this question that’s going around on Facebook. Name 15 books that will always stick with you. Rules: Don't take too long to think about it - just 15 minutes to list fifteen books you've read that you remember for various reasons. Here’s my quick list. (Yes, I know it’s more than 15, but the list would be even longer if I had more than 15 minutes.)

You Can't Go Home Again - Thomas Wolfe
Moving On - Larry McMurtry
Remains of the Day - Kazuo Ishiguro
Time and Again - Jack Finney
Crossing to Safety - Wallace Stegner
The Shipping News - Annie Proulx
The Transit of Venus - Shirley Hazzard
Many Masters-Many Lives - Brian Weiss, MD
The Power of Your Subconscious Mind - Dr. Joseph Murphy
The Risk Pool - Richard Russo
The Other America - Michael Harrington
Atlas Shrugged - Ayn Rand
The Grapes of Wrath - John Steinbeck
Loving Frank - Nancy Horan
A Tree Grows in Brooklyn - Betty Smith
Motherless Brooklyn - Jonathan Lethem
The Elegance of the Hedgehog - Muriel Barbery