What is it with me and books?!

How is it that I can't remember what happened last week, yet I can remember where I was, what I was thinking, or what I felt when I have read one of hundreds of books that my eyes have crossed over the years? I was just thinking about this as I was going through my "Visual Bookshelf" on Facebook (that I have also connected to the bottom of my blog page here) a few hours ago. I have written a bit about this before in a past blog entry, but I am realizing more and more how many of my life memories (some seemingly insignificant, yet significant enough in its mundaneness) are attached to books I have read.

It seems to be a playful joke amongst my friends....if you need a book recommendation, go to Katie because surely there is a great chance she has already read what you are searching for or might be interested in reading. I take it as a compliment of sorts, especially considering there are very few people I know that read as many books (especially on diverse subjects, fiction and non-fiction alike) as I do. I'm not being arrogant when I say this; it's basic fact. I get excited when a friend asks me if I have read such and such a book or what I recommend. It also makes me miss the working-at-a-bookstore days now and then.

Just as specific songs carry meaning (whether intentional or unconsciously) for people, this is incredibly true for me with books....perhaps even more so for me than music. I love music, don't get me wrong, but it is books I resonate with most. You know those silly, fun 'get to know you' questions you find in conversational games that ask something like "What objects would most reflect who you are as a person?" Well, for me....it's absolutely every single book I have read and will read. Why? Because on some level, it reveals part of who I am.....whether something I'm curious to learn, something that resonates with my values and beliefs at the core, a thought or emotion a book brings out in me, my secret/hidden curiosities and desires, even memories of a person, place, or thing attached to a specific book. Perhaps this is why I have an unquenchable desire to continue searching for various books, to add to my bookshelf of memories in the making. A book can be just as much of a snapshot into my life as a photograph.

I remember devouring Augusten Burrough's "Dry" in the span of one day in my studio apartment in Chicago, sometimes being so engrossed that I brought it into the kitchen, hunched over the counter reading it as I prepared a meal or boiling hot water for tea on the stove. I remember sitting at a table in a busy Michigan Avenue Starbuck's one cold and dreary afternoon reading another Burrough's book, "Magical Thinking." I remember reading "Self Made Man" in the intake room on a slow, quiet morning at PDS, most likely because my office was too cold from the air blowing underneath the unventilated Emergency exit door.

There was "The Awakening," "Scarlet Letter", "Emotional Alchemy," and "The Art of Happiness," which I associate with the summer I was living in Kentucky....depressed, hopeless, and downtrodden with no job and no real "life" in sight after graduating college. I was living in an RV, waking up to cows "mooing" outside my bedroom window, working with deadbeats at Cracker Barrel where I was the only one single, educated, and childless. I was lonely and crying for hope, crying for change, crying for something better. Those books gave me something to grasp for and hold onto before I moved to Chicago, Illinois 5-6 months later.

Books that I associate with men who I was interested in and/or broke my heart.....a writer named Jobie I met online who captivated me with his literary intellect and passion, suggesting books like "Flowers for Algernon"( his favorite book), "Thirteenth Tale," and "Factotum" (which he could really identify with, a red flag that should have warned me after I read it and hated the misogynistic themes). Too bad his taste for books didn't parallel his true personality (well, except "Factotum" unfortunately). Around that same time, I met AJ, a cute and sweet Marine 7 years younger than myself. There was something about him that I fell for, something endearing. I read "On Killing" per his recommendation, and later gave him "Deep Survival," "Brothel Mustang Ranch and its Women," and a few John Douglass profiler books before he was deployed back to Iraq. Sealed with a metaphorical kiss, the books have stayed with him and I have not. It was as if I knew I wouldn't see him again or for very long thereafter, my books becoming the only memory of me to live on in spirit...in his possession. I think about him once in awhile and wonder if he still has my books. Even though we are no longer in touch (it was too painful for me to continue communicating with him at all), I hope he only thinks of me fondly when he sees those books, another lifetime ago.

"Siddhartha" my junior or senior year of high school was my first real introduction to what I would begin to resonate with more and more throughout my life: Buddhism. While everyone else in English class read some simplistic, inane book for a required book review assignment, that is the book I chose. I loved every deep page of it.

"A Million Little Pieces" brings me back to my practicum days at Rice in 2004, and reminds me of the day James Frey went on Oprah. My opinion of her character hasn't been the same since then (in regard to how she handled the controversy surrounding the truthfulness of parts of the book....don't even get me started on that!).

"Kite Runner" was read almost entirely on a flight back to Chicago, and I remember raving to my friends Eddie and Rajiv about how they absolutely must read it while we had sushi in a restaurant near their Edgewater apartment soon after I got back from my trip. "The Namesake" reminds me of Rajiv, how we both read it and how excited he was to have me see the movie with him (even though he had already seen it once on a day I was feeling ill and was unable to go originally).

"Heroin" gave me a little more confidence and knowledge after I started working at PDS. "Trauma and Recovery" did the same after I started working at SMH. "Trauma Stewardship" (thank God for my social worker friend Pat's recommendation on this one!) gave me hope, validation, and encouragement during a time I felt incredibly burnt out, somewhat crazy, and depressed working with so many trauma clients at my current job. "Sickened" was another class book review for an Adlerian family class in grad school...quite disturbing. "Toward a Psychology of Being" by Abraham Maslow....I associate with laying on the warm, green grass along the Belmont Harbor lakefront in my old Chicago neighborhood.

I remember sitting on a bench in one of the buildings of the UIC campus reading "Harmful to Minors" (a book my friend Melissa recommended I read) for a little while as I waited for my friend Sara to meet me for lunch at a nearby pizza place.

"The Bell Jar," "Freakanomics," "Tipping Point," and "Devil in the White City" just a few of the numerous books I "checked out" with the library loan while I was working at Borders. I remember reading DITWC on cold bus rides home from work, from Michigan Ave to Lakeshore Drive to Belmont....creeping myself out because my imagination was taking me to visualizing myself living during that time period in the SAME city amongst an unsuspecting sadistic serial killer who hated women. Yikes!

Books I've read that remind me of ex-coworkers and friends because they recommended the book(s) to me: "The Comfort of Strangers" (Nate), "Not Buying It" and "Set This House in Order" (Melissa), the Dexter series (Juan).

Or places...."Memories, Dreams, and Reflections" remind me of my late philosophical and spiritual Uncle Don, a book he urged me to read and which I did while we were both living in Reno, Nevada for a brief time. "Memoirs of a Geisha" bringing me back to standing across the street from Dominick's on Fullerton Ave, waiting for the #74 bus at 5:30am to take me to PDS on Elston....all bundled up in three layers of clothing because it was freezing ass cold. The excitement of reading "Of Human Bondage" at the same time my mom was reading it, just for fun and to discuss it together.....sitting at a table in the Fixx on Sheffield sipping a coffee and feverishly taking notes as I soaked in the character development of Philip Carey and his lifelong adventures.

As you can see, I could go on endlessly recounting my books, my memories, my loves. Can you understand now how I can say books are a window into my soul? And how anyone in my life who asks me about a book, tells me about a book, or wants to talk about a book instantly brings a nostalgic smile to my face? God, I love books.

3rd floor event space

It was late September of 2002 or 2003 when I started working at Borders bookstore on Michigan Avenue ("The Magnificent Mile") in Chicago, Illinois. Over the 3-4 years I worked there part-time to help support myself through graduate school, I accumulated more than my fair share of "interesting" observations, stories, and fond memories. Nothing quite stands out to me, however, like that of the more than 30 author/musician events I worked during the course of my employment with the company. Every time I worked an event, I wrote down the name of the person with the intent to write about my event experience with that person at some point in time. I have saved that list after all these years, but I realized that it's only natural for us to remember what was meaningful, random or idiosyncratic. Giving a play by play takes away the flavor, so instead here's a flavorful snapshot of my vivid remembrances......

Gene Hackman was down-to-earth and an engaging speaker. He looks exactly the same in person as he does onscreen, minus the evil onscreen persona. Larry Flynt rolled down the aisle onto the stage in a bright, shiny spanking new looking gold wheelchair. Jenny McCarthy outspokenly joked about having to shit on a plate during childbirth, something mainstream pregnancy and childbirth books didn't tell her in "What to Expect."

Kay Redfield Jamison put a very human and professional face to mental illness, boldly challenging its stigma. I told Mitch Albom my mom uses "Tuesdays With Morrie" as a steppingstone to talk about the difficult subject of death in the college level English classes she teaches. I remember Alex Kotlowitz was a Chicago based writer whom I had never heard of before. I asked Augusten Burroughs about his recovery and writing process after the event, when everyone else had left. He told me there's a part in "Dry" that he wrote while drunk. I went home that night, eager to find it and never did. Note to self: re-read "Dry" in its entirety.

I don't remember anything about Sara Paretsky except that she's a mystery/thriller writer. Mannheim Steamrollers felt socially awkward and uncomfortable. When I gave gorgeous Nigella Lawson the tea she kindly requested, she joked about needing it after traveling so much and looking like "an East German transvestite." I marveled at her candor and secretly wished we could be friends. Her book "Feast" purposely released around the Thanksgiving holiday, I told her about the comfort and memories attached to my grandmother's cooking growing up. She listened with a warmth and compassion unlike any other celeb I've interacted with thus far.

Allan Lee attracted all the die hard "Lord of the Rings" fans, a trilogy I still don't understand what all the fascination is about. Mark Winegardner wrote a wine book....I think. Jack Welch sat by the magazine section on the first floor. It was an afternoon event during the middle of the week, to attract the business folks on their lunch break?, I wondered. I have no recollection of Jack Welch, but I remember spotting Dustin Hoffman buying a guide book on Chicago. He was shorter in "real life," dressed like your average American in jeans. This celeb sighting had gone virtually "undetected" until a customer standing beside him at the register where he was making his purchase loudly exclaimed his name with excitement.

Kirstie Alley had pretty, long flowing hair and carried herself confidently, which gave her far more beauty than any scale could in my eyes. The UK band Keane put on a musical performance as the sun came beaming through the windows. Kanye West had fans waiting in line to see him, a line that wrapped around from the 3rd floor to the 1st floor. He left before the time he promised to stay, and the line for him was replaced by a line of disgruntled customers at the registers returning his cd. It seemed like Alan Alda was 7 feet tall with a cheery smile.

Dan Savage read the witty passage from his book that I suggested he read when I briefly spoke to him before the event started. Margaret Cho doesn't come off as crazy and loud as she appears to be on her standup comedy shows. It made me think her standup literally is "just an act." Nate Berkus was a short, sweet, down-to-earth guy who really took the time to connect with every single customer that came up to the book signing table. I remember being eager and excited about the opportunity to have my picture taken with him, but I missed the chance because I had to use the restroom. For a brief instant I wished I was one of my gay male colleagues who got to snuggle up against him in that photo op.

Al Franken was cranky and moody. He got bent out of shape about not receiving the right coffee from the downstairs cafe. I can't say I remember a single memory of Brad Thor. Sorry, Brad. William Moyers, son of Bill Moyers, spoke about his addiction and recovery. I was touched when he humbly thanked me for the work I do with addicts and the difference I make in their lives. Mike Ditka had a bright red face and commanded the events space as if it were a football field all his own. I was excited about yet another photo opportunity, this time with Billie Crystal. The general manager Julie sent me on a short trip to Walgreens for either a disposable camera or more film. I can't remember if I even got to take a picture with him or if I did, just never received a copy of it.

I think Judith Wright was a life coach whose audience basically consisted of women. Every one of us working the Anderson Cooper event seemed to be a bit infatuated with his charming good looks and personality. I made sure to let him know my mother watches his show. Harry Shearer was witty; all I could think about was Homer Simpson as he spoke during the event. Marlo Thomas had a genuine humanitarian vibe about her. It appeared to me that Rachael Ray wanted her book signing to be as speedy as her 30 minute meals.

Chuck Klosterman is even funnier in person than in his books. It was the only event I worked where the audience primarily consisted of my generation (people who grew up in the 1980's and early 90's), apropos to his pop culture topics.

Gus Russo, Nathaniel Philbrick, and Terry Brooks provide me with no memory whatsoever besides my having written down their names. Robert Baer was the inspiration for the movie "Syriana." His stories were far more interesting and revealing than anything I gleaned from watching the yawn of a movie.