Dirda - Browsings : a year of reading, collecting, and living with books

Browsings

A YEAR OF READING, COLLECTING,
AND LIVING WITH BOOKS

Michael Dirda

PEGASUS BOOKS

NEW YORK LONDON

BROWSINGS

Pegasus Books LLC

80 Broad Street, 5th Floor

New York, NY 10004

Copyright 2015 by Michael Dirda

First Pegasus Books cloth edition August 2015

Interior design by Maria Fernandez

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in whole or in part without written permission from the publisher, except by reviewers who may quote brief excerpts in connection with a review in a newspaper, magazine, or electronic publication; nor may any part of this book be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or other, without written permission from the publisher.

ISBN: 978-1-60598-844-3

ISBN: 978-1-60598-845-0 (e-book)

Distributed by W. W. Norton & Company, Inc.

To the memory of Clifton Fadiman, Randall Jarrell,
Cyril Connolly, and Robert Phelps

B etween February 2012 and February 2013 I contributed an essay each Friday to the home page of The American Scholar. I had no particular restrictions on what I might write about, though it was expected that my column would be literary and personal. Initially I was told that each piece should run about 600 words but, due to my natural garrulousness, this length soon doubled and occasionally tripled. From the start, I planned to write these Browsings essays for a year, then stop. And thats what I did.

Ive retained the name Browsings as the title of this collection, even though it is something of a misnomer. Rather than chronicling the adventures of a soul among the masterpieces, I quickly gravitated to talking digressively, and I hope amusingly, about bookishness itself. These are, in fact, very much personal pieces, the meandering reflections of a literary sybarite. The essays themselves vary widely in subject matter, and rarely stick closely to their stated titles. In reading them over, I did notice a few repeated names, as well as some dated allusions to contemporary events, but have decided to let these stand. However, I have corrected small mistakes, sharpened sentences and, in one or two instances, added a few illustrative details. But thats all. I hope Browsings as a whole will communicate some sense of a year in the life of an especially bookish literary journalist. I also hope that it will encourage readers to seek out some of the many titles I mention or discuss.

Please bear in mind that these are light essays, meant to be entertaining. They arent jokey precisely, but they do have jokes in them. And lots of allusions and quotations, as well as the occasional pun. Now and again, I go off on rants, sometimes I make up lists, at other times I describe my misadventures at literary conventions and conferences. But throughout youll recognize, I think, the same voice. If you like that voice, youll probably like this book.

But allow me to make two small recommendations: First, dont read more than two or three of the pieces at one sitting. Space them out. That way Browsings will take longer to get through and youll enjoy each essay more. Trust me on this. Second, consider reading the columns in the order they appear. Each is meant to stand on its own, but I did aim for a pleasing variety in my choice of topics, as well as a seasonal arc to the series as a whole.

MICHAEL DIRDA

A s readers of Browsings will discover in the weeks to come, Im pretty much what used to be called a bookman. This means, essentially, that I read a lot and enjoy writing about the books and authors that interest me. Sometimes the result is a review, sometimes an essay. But my tone aims to remain easygoing and conversational, just me sharing some of my discoveries and enthusiasms.

Like any sensible person, Im cowed at the prospect of succeeding William K. Zinsser in this online column for The American Scholar. Even as I type these sentences, Im wondering if theres a way to add a little more dash and color to what Ive written. Dickens used to tell his contributors to Household Words: Brighter! Make it brighter! I can imagine Zinsser saying this to his writing students at Yale, back in the days he taught there.

I read On Writing Well when it first came out, and Ive periodically gone back to it since. Having been notably lackluster in my grammatical studies in high school and never having taken any writing courses in college, I have since welcomed all the linguistic counsel and stylistic advice I can get. On Writing Well thus stands on a shelf, if only a mental shelf, with such classics as Fowlers Modern English Usage, Herbert Reads English Prose Style, Robert Graves and Alan Hodges The Reader Over Your Shoulder, Theodore M. Bernsteins The Careful Writer, and of course, Strunk and Whites The Elements of Style.

But On Writing Well is more than a guide or even an exemplar of the principles it so attractively preaches. Its also a wonderful anthology of quotations, almost a commonplace book. For instance, the passages Zinsser cites from Alan Moorehead sent me scurrying to locate copies of The White Nile and The Blue Nile, and then everything else by this superb journalist-historian, now rather forgotten. Happily, any good used bookshop is likely to stock copies of his expertly paced accounts of 19th-century African exploration. Look for the oversized, illustrated editions, which come with maps, period pictures, and much else.

On Writing Well also led me to Zinssers own books. Only last year I acquired a copy, in a fine dust jacket, of his first: Any Old Place With You. Published in 1957 and winsomely illustrated by Robert Day throughout, its subtitled The True Story of Some Impractical Voyages to Implausible Places on a Number of Continents. On the back cover a skinny and very youthful-looking Zinsser sports a white tee-shirt and khakis; his biographical note identifies him as a man scarcely out of his twenties and currently a film critic for the New York Herald Tribune.

The style of Any Old Place With Youthe title comes from a song by Lorenz Hartis breezy and almost relentlessly witty, in the manner I associate with dim childhood memories of riffling through Holiday magazine. Heres how it opens:

One August evening a few years ago, on a park bench in Manhattan, I turned to a willowy blonde named Caroline Fraser, who happened to be turned to me, and spoke the words that started it all: Lets get married and take a trip to Africa.

Her blue eyes widened, and I searched them for an answer. But I could see only two words: Drink Budweiser. They were reflected from a blinking neon sign.

It wasnt exactly what I had in mind, but it was something, and I pressed my case. I had been suggesting marriage for weeks, but my proposal lacked that extra detail, like a trip to Africa, that every girl sets her heart on.

Did you say Africa? Caroline asked.

Yes, Africa, I purred, seizing the advantage. King Solomons Mines, the Mountains of the Moon, fabulous Zanzibarits got everything. Think of Stanley looking for Livingstone, Baker looking for the lost source of the Nile, Clark Gable looking for Ava Gardner.

Before you know it, Caroline has said yes and the new couple is embarked on the Atlantic voyage of the accursed ship Bahama. But I should say no more. Find your own copy of the book.

Oh, yes, one more thing, as Lt. Columbo used to say: when I decided to write this opening piece for