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I no longer recall exactly where I got the bag—possibly at some tiny independent bookstore in the Midwest. I’d like to believe that the store survives, but that’s probably a pipe dream. This was almost 15 years ago and so many of the independents have been crushed in the meantime by the superstore chains with their coffee bars and deep bestseller discounts.
The bag was a standard canvas tote and, today, it’s a little threadbare. But it is part of a ritual that sustains me through the weary end of Worcester’s winters. Each year, usually near the start of February, I begin filling the bag with books—the titles I plan on reading during my July vacation in Maine. This is a process that runs through late June. I frequently edit, swapping out one title for another, inserting new recommendations from reader-friends. Tucking in one more impulse purchase or surprise Father’s Day paperback.
As snow slowly yields to rain and deadline stress rises and falls, I continually use that canvas bag—and the books it holds—as a touchstone, signifying an approaching idyll when I can descend, again, for days at a time, into the pure joy of reading.
There’s a conceit that I treasure regarding the work done at Holy Cross. I can’t recall who first said it to me—and, yes, it reveals an English major bias—but I’ve long been enamored of the notion that what is cultivated on the Hill each year is a vibrant crop of passionate, lifelong readers.
What I hope for all of those readers this summer is some time on a beach or a lake shore or a quiet back porch, immersed in a book that brings pleasure, meaning and the renewal that comes from reading. On Page xx, you’ll find intriguing book recommendations from faculty, administrators and students. And we invite you to visit the magazine’s Web site and share your own favorite books with the rest of the College community.
As I write this, I am seven days away from that beach in Maine. I have time for another revision or two of the books in that canvas tote bag. But before I go, I can’t resist leaving you with my own recommendation.
The best book I read during the last year was Winter’s Bone, by Daniel Woodrell. Full disclosure: Woodrell is a friend. And this, his eighth novel, is his finest yet.
Winter’s Bone is the story of 16-year-old Ree Dolly, whose family “has worked the shadowy side of the law for generations.” When her father disappears after skipping bail and the bond company threatens to seize the family home, Ree sets out on a quest that—for both the heroine and the reader—conveys profound meanings about family, faith and identity.
For two decades, Woodrell has quietly been building a reputation as a writer’s writer. His books are taut, poetic and deeply evocative tales that turn his native Ozarks into a rich, mythic—and, particularly, American—landscape. As writer Kaye Gibbons says, “Whenever I’m on the verge of losing faith in our collective ability to produce startlingly direct yet still lyrical and gorgeous novels, another one arrives from Daniel Woodrell and I’m immediately optimistic again.”
For all our readers, we wish you a summer full of great books and the time and peace to delight in them.
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