![]() ![]() While cruising the New Yorker digital archives, I read an excerpt from Frank McCourt’s “‘Tis” that put me on my rear end with its good humor and craft of storytelling. The story contained within is as lyrical and deep as the cover is matte and bland. The copy I checked out is bound in indestructible chocolate-brown plastic, that nuclear age substance found in college libraries and nowhere else on earth. ![]() ![]() When Amor Towles lauded Patchett (here), I scanned the library’s database for her work. There’s a psychological phenomenon that must have its own long German word: “you had the chance to read it when it was popular, therefore you will forever pass it up in order not to address the feeling that you can never go back.” A ridiculous sentiment, hence the German. I recall the synopsis: an opera singer, a house in the jungle, an…incident. I realized at around college age that this was a hot book among grown-up types. ![]() The paperback edition’s cover has been on my radar for years, populating and seemingly replicating on the shelves of every used bookstore from Archer City to Anchorage. There is no good reason I shouldn’t have read this before my fourth decade on earth. I am about 80 pages in Ann Patchett’s novel “Bel Canto.” Woolf, Garcia Marquez…these are the names that come to mind, that’s the quality of this book. Ted gets around to reading a book with a familiar cover ![]()
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