On the plane back from Sanibel I read Every Day is Saturday, by Captain Bob Sabatino. It's a very funny and interesting account of Captain Bob's life and Sanibel Island from the 50's to the present day. I doubt it would be that interesting if you haven't spent a lot of time on that lovely little island, but since I have, I greatly enjoyed it. I loved the stories of the way the island used to be, especially prior to the bridge being built. Until 1963 it was ferry service only to get to the island. Many of the old haunts of the islanders have disappeared over the years, morphing into new restaurants and bars. I've been to all the sites that were mentioned, so it was really neat to find out what they used to be. It's also literally a handmade book. No text on the verso pages, only on the recto pages. Hand glued. As Captain Bob says in the intro: "Don't blame me if this book falls apart!"
Since I returned from holiday I started and finished a book I bought as a birthday and Christmas gift, and also for myself: John Kralik's 365 Thank Yous. It's a lovely little book, thought-provoking and sweet. It's a really quick read, and at it's core it's about gratitude. Gratitude and how we treat others. I can't recommend it enough. Everyone can benefit from a reminder to be grateful for the good things in their life—and to look for them, instead of assuming they're not there.
Today I'm reading Bob Hicok's new book of poems, Words for Empty and Words for Full, and also the most recent issue of Poetry.
Futility in Key West (from the January 2011 issue of Poetry)
I was stretched out on the couch, about to doze off, when I imagined a small figure asleep on a couch identical to mine. "Wake up, little man, wake up," I cried. "The one you're waiting for is rising from the sea, wrapped in spume, and soon will come ashore. Beneath her feet the melancholy garden will turn bright green and the breezes will be light as babies' breath. Wake up, before this creature of the deep is gone and everything goes blank as sleep." How hard I try to wake the little man, how hard he sleeps. And the one who rose from the sea, her moment gone, how hard she has become—how hard those burning eyes, that burning hair.
—Mark Strand
Since I'm an inveterate parallel reader, I'm also reading Gail Caldwell's Let's Take the Long Way Home. It's subtitle is "a memoir of friendship." I'm about halfway through the book, and it's a beautiful and intense read. I highly recommend it if you enjoy memoirs and you like strong women. Oh, and dogs. Dogs figure greatly in this book. The two central characters are hugely in love with four-footed companions. I'm also in the midst of The Living Great Lakes, by Jerry Dennis, but I'm taking my time with that one, I'm so taken with it. I want it to last forever!
And, last but not least, I treated myself to the newest Mary Oliver collection before the holidays, Swan.
Mist in the Morning, Nothing Around Me
but Sand and Roses
Was I lost? No question.
Did I know where I was? Not at all.
Had I ever been happier in my life? Never.
—Mary Oliver, Swan
