Don’t you love it when two books you love–each a treasure on its own–talk to each other? So it is that my now second most recently re-read book, “Happiness,” by Aminatta Forna, is in a relationship with my newest read and immediately re-read book, “The Light of the World,” by Elizabeth Alexander.
It hardly seems to matter that two of the people whose company I want to continue living in are fictional and two are real. And, though I mention these four, there are also others–a fictional nephew and two real sons–whom I want to spend more time with.
All right, maybe any book with a glimmer of sunshine in it would grab me these days, situated, as we are, in a sludge of fretful time. My recent obsessive reads have been Holocaust- or plague-related that I seem to need to assure myself that people have survived worse times. And if that makes me sound despondent, I am not. I feel fortunate, hunkered down as I am in health and comfort and with my favorite person. The only day I felt actual despair was the Fourth of July, but let’s not go into that.
Even as I wrote the word sunshine, I was a little taken aback, given that both “Happiness” and “The Light of the World” have much sadness and darkness in them. So there’s that survival aspect. But what these books really have in common is love. Savoring the world’s pleasures. Choosing to see them. Savoring the company of those one loves, family and friends. Saving up the events of the day, the mundane and those that sparkle, for later recounting. Enlarging the joys by sharing them with a beloved.
I read “Happiness” onscreen, which for me means on my phone. I know, it doesn’t sound inviting to some and I mostly prefer the actual page. But when I started reading on my phone I was surprised at how much I liked it as a way to have my book with me all the time and also be in what felt like an intimate relationship with it, there in the palm of my hand. Maybe I’m channeling e.e.cummings and carrying it on my phone is the closest thing to in my heart. In his new book, “Convenient Amnesia,” my friend Donald Vincent carries favorite reading, poems by Matthew Dickman, “in my backpack.” Whatever works, especially right now. We want to keep close what we love. And so, not wanting to be without “The Light of the World” when I have to return it to the library, I think I’ll buy it to carry with me.
Already I can see it’s hard to part with. I press it on Dr. D. to read, then snatch it back so I can continue my second reading. Did I mention there are recipes? I’m planning to try a couple. Maybe, I can invite all of them—Aminatta, Jean, and Attila, Elizabeth and Ficre, to sit at down together with Dr. D. and me. Maybe, since we can’t be in anyone’s actual company, that vision is as real as any other plan I might make. We could all enjoy the food, drink some good wine together, laugh and talk. Everyone would enjoy each other’s company. There would be a lot of love around the table. What we need.