 Darkness Into Light I am slogging, or at least I feel like I am, though the books I have read so far in 2011. First, it was through predatory employment consultants and desperate how-to-get-hired seminars; then pirates and killing and gold and other horrendous history; lawless and horrifying twentieth-first century culture; fictional crime not altogether genteel; then mud and sumps and miles of rock; and real life poisons and crime. How? In the books I am reading. And right now I feel as worn out physically and emotionally as if I actually gone on all those journeys and been personally involved in the crimes and adventures. I am three-quarters of the way through my current book, The Poisoner’s Handbook: Murder and the Birth of Forensic Medicine in Jazz Age New York, a well-written, well-researched, interesting, albeit nasty piece of work. The crimes are the most difficult to read. Husbands poisoning wives. An orderly poisoning patients. Bootleggers poisoning thousands of drinkers. An angry aunt poisoning her niece to get back at the girl’s parents. It’s a gut-wrenching journey into the ugly aspects of science, political cronyism, consumer products and services, Prohibition, medicine, police work and the office of the coroner, detailed autopsies, and the physical effects of poisons. Though fascinating in certain aspects, it is repeatedly shocking. And it’s having a gloomy effect, or at least it’s adding to the cumulative weight that books I’ve read this month about the more unpleasant aspects of life. I don’t intend to quit reading before the end, but I have to say that I am looking forward to the last page. I’ll pencil in my post-reading review, then shove it onto a low shelf where I need never see it again. It’s a book I don’t really want to give away, but I will be happy to see it imprisoned in an inconvenient location. Then—oh, the joy!—I intend to move up and out of the darkness and misery and desperation that has characterized my 2011 books to date. I am leaning strongly toward The Caedmon Collection, an audio recording of Dylan Thomas reading not only his own poetry but works of his favorite authors. the 11-disc CD collection was a gift to me in 2010, and I think the time has come to revel in Thomas’s rich voice and exquisite words. I’ve not been exposed to much poetry, but what I have has been for the most part excellent so at this point I feel myself drawn to its delicate beauty. I’ve had too much time dwelling in the darkness of desperation lately. Yet I am thankful because my craving to get out of it is leading me to something I’ve wanted for a long time but that until now has not been exactly at the right time. Now it is. I am not surprised. As Carl Jung once wrote, “there can be no transforming of darkness into light and of apathy into movement without emotion.” This week the movement happens. Upcoming Book Festivals: The Pub House: I already own, have read, and can personally recommend The Road from Damascus, described as a “street-level view of a so-called ‘terrorist’ nation,” is a travel narrative with a serious intent, to explore the real world behind the media mask that defines Syria for Americans. The writing is both persuasive and personal, peeling back the public layers to reveal the real country and its people. Africa, Africa! is a collection of well-crafted stories with based on political transformations, the interweaving of European, American, and African cultures, and an unknown future. The author’s experience as a State Department official and a journalist in 1960s Africa is the basis for his work. The memoir, Jerusalem Heat: An American Jew Walks the Line is the personal story of a young rebellious woman from a conservative Jewish family who travels to Jerusalem to “test her idealism” that Jews and Arabs can live in peace despite the bloody rift. Imaging Books & Reading: Of Interest: Until next week, read well, read often and read on!
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