Max Riffner

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The Reading Infection Marches On

I have become a reading machine this week. I don’t know if it is from the aftermath of reading Fortress of Solitude or a sign of needing to change my “diet” from reading nothing but graphic novels for the last six months or so. Whatever the case, I’m plowing through books.

I purchased a load of McSweeney’s books recently, due to their distributor problems (similar to Top Shelf and Fantagraphics hitting a financial pitfall in the comics world). Just like those publishers, McSweeney’s held a massive sale in order to pay down some debt and survive, and of course the fans rallied. Thank goodness. If nothing else, these books are gorgeous art objects. That their content matches the beauty of the package is astounding (I may be jaded from too many beautiful silk-screened, hand-bound mini-comics from cartoonists who, for lack of a better word, suck).

The first book I read this week was The Pharmacist’s Mate. It only weighs in at 86 pages, but it was extremely satisfying. I’ve been thinking about it all week. Amy Fusselman weaves together her father’s journal from World War II with her current struggles to conceive. It is a book that begs to be re-read, sitting on your shelf quietly muttering “I’m only 86 pages, and I am full of ideas, c’mon, read me again.”

The next book, which I expect I’ll have finished either today or tomorrow (depending on the heat and the length of my yard), is The Polysyllabic Spree by Nick Hornby.

Basically, this is a collection of Hornby’s book review column published in The Believer (a magazine I love, but is so dense I can never seem to get through it – sort of like The Economist). Hornby starts each month by listing the books he bought compared to the books he actually read that month, almost as a way to document the rising tide of books overflowing his house — I problem I can relate to. Book nuts will love this collection. Each column is akin to a blog post (albeit a very long and better written blog post than many I’ve read), but it is very personable and intimate in a similar way. Unfortunately, Hornby’s reviews are making my own reading list quite uncomfortably large, as I have started to write down some of the books he enjoys quite a bit. I suppose that is the purpose: to infect others with this terrible book-buying virus, filling your library with novels that you may never, ever read. Damn him.

Both books are, of course, available from McSweeney’s online store. Go forth and purchase.

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