I grew up on Goosebumps and Harry Potter, though I remember neither very well. There’s no way I could even begin to enter the brain of my single digit aged self, but I’m often curious about my series selections back then. Perhaps it’s like my attraction to Edward Abbey now. Roll your eyes, I know. Everyone, at least in this part of the country, considers it a household name and not always a pleasant one. I’ve read nearly every one of his books and they’re not all created equal. Desert Solitaire not only forever changed the way I viewed the desert, but the natural world in its entirety. It was among the first pieces of “nature writing” I encountered. ——— Over the years, as I passed age ten and eventually entered my teens, I’d walk into my closet every so often and stare at the bookshelf, untouched since the Goosebumps days. Reading felt like a chore all through school. I’m not sure what attracted me to Goosebumps since I’ve never enjoyed the horror category. However, I’ve always had an interest in fear. You know the feeling. The blood runs through your veins like a river and your skin dances. When the feeling of safety returns, it’s entirely euphoric. Like being separated from your body, just for little. I imagine that’s what Harry Potter and Goosebumps were for me; a satisfying separation from reality. Because being young and privileged is just such a drag, man. No, but, I think that there’s a deep attraction to wonder and mystery within us and especially so when we’re young. This is a topic I’m going to write about in length later down the line, but it’s also how I’m going to compare my past and present reading choices. ——— Edward Abbey’s writing is not my bible, it’s not my life manual and it certainly isn’t to be taken very seriously. Launching bulldozers into Lake Powell, rolling boulders onto government vehicles, lighting fire to billboards, measuring miles driven in cases of beer finished, etc etc etc, monkeywrenching, ecodefense, debauchery, you get it. However, the wonder filled boy inside me can’t stop looking. My imagination runs rampant and no other author has allowed me to have such intense daydreams. My eyes are open but my surroundings dissipate, leaving me with words morphing into a simulation of sorts. Ed managed to bridge the immense gap between a chore and a desire. ——— I haven’t stopped reading since picking up Desert Solitaire, however many years ago that was. An accomplishment I’m proud of, though it feels normal and necessary for me to read now. This is going to be my reading log for the rest of the year. I’ll list each book I read without any personally feelings, so you can form your own untainted opinion, if you choose to read any of them. Here ya go!
January
Here, There, Elsewhere : William Least Heat-Moon
Cross Country : Rickey Gates
The Devil’s Highway : Luis Alberto Urrea
February
Killers of the Flower Moon : David Grann
For the Time Being : Annie Dillard
The Anthropology of Turquoise : Ellen Meloy
March
The Unreality of Memory : Elisa Gabbert
The Moth Snowstorm : Michael McCarthy
Everett Ruess: A Vagabond for Beauty : W.L. Rusho
April
West of the Thirties : Edward T. Hall
Eating Stone : Ellen Meloy
Life in a Corner : Robert McPherson
May
The Emerald Mile : Kevin Fedarko
Where the Rain Children Sleep : Michael Engelhard
House of Rain : Craig Childs
June
Arctic Dreams : Barry Lopez
Ghost Grizzlies : David Petersen
Pilgrim at Tinker Creek : Annie Dillard
July
Smoke Gets in Your Eyes : Caitlin Doughty
Finding Abbey : Sean Prentiss
In Abundance : Annie Dillard
August
The Secret Knowledge of Water : Craig Childs