It’s my lucky number. And it has hefty symbolic and rhetorical value. But c’mon. ONLY three books??? I TRIED so hard to narrow down and finally came up with… TEN. LOL.
Naturally my TOP pick instantly in mind, I cannot locate. I had a bin full of belongings that was mistakenly tossed some time ago. It may have been in there? Gosh, I hope not. It was bookmarked and annotated. And this would sadly be my third replacement copy, if I get another one. But maybe I will ask for one for my birthday.
GOSH… I just thought of another one, that I am in the process of reading. But maybe since I’m not done yet, it can’t count. Hm. Okay. Moving on.
MY TOP TEN IMPACTFUL BOOKS:
- Natalie Goldberg’s Writing Down the Bones. This is the one I can’t find. Will have to get another one. I also really loved Julia Cameron’s The Artist’s Way, but Writing Down the Bones has a more laid-back, read at your own pace, pick separate chapters as they please you kind of vibe that I really love. They both definitely have their place. The Artist’s Way is amazing if you want a bootcamp-intensity jumpstart to your creativity. If you’d rather try scribbling short “first thoughts” in laundromats, Writing Down the Bones is the way to go. I’ve since read more books on writing, including more by Goldberg. Anne Lamott’s Bird by Bird is also choc full of amazing advice.
- Neil Gaiman’s The Ocean at the End of the Lane. My copy sadly looks like it was left in the pond behind the Hempstock farm. Maybe that makes it more magical? What’s more befitting this novel than a waterlogged paperback edition? In reality, I believe something spilled on it at some point, and the cover didn’t properly bounce back. That said… I’ve read this book three times. The first time, I thought, huh, this seems oddly realistic at not at all fantastical for a Neil Gaiman story. Then things began to happen… and I felt right at home.
- Holly Black’s Tithe. While faerie rules and politics seem at times cruel and overly complicated, there’s some appeal to the notion of discovering oneself a part of that world. If I had to pick a book to crawl into and inhabit, this one would be way up on the list– assuming I got to play the lead and try my hand at wooing the love interest. Roiben is pretty amazing. But Kaye is also a total badass.
- Angela Carter’s The Bloody Chamber. A college instructor of mine photocopied Carter’s adaptation of “Little Red Riding Hood,” entitled “The Company of Wolves.” It was sensual and gorgeous and everything I love best about faerie tales and myths and folklore. When it came time to write my Master’s thesis and I had decided to tackle the theme of underworld journeys, I ordered this book immediately, and read the rest.
- Dr. Clarissa Pinkola-Estes’s Women Who Run with the Wolves. This book was like archetypal therapy, or medicine for the soul. I’ve read through it more than once. It was another work I quoted in my thesis, but I also found it helpful while rebuilding post-divorce. Much is said of the life-death-life cycle of human experience, which can be meaningfully applied to any number of circumstances.
- John Milton’s Paradise Lost. Another very “well-loved” book, but then my copy was used when I acquired it from the campus bookstore. There’s a bit of tape holding the cover together, with its iconic William Blake art front and center (I like William Blake a lot, too). I’m including this one because John Milton’s Satan was such an iconic tragic hero, and because of one particular quotation from Book 4: “Horror and doubt distract His troubled thoughts, and from the bottom stir The hell within him; for within him Hell He brings, and round about him, nor from Hell One step, no more than from Himself, can fly By change of place.” I’m not sure if this is the interpretation Milton intended, but I liked the idea that hell is something we do to ourselves, by abandoning grace.
- Don Martin’s While I Wait to be a God Again. I LOVED all the allusions to Norse mythology, and the juxtaposition of those references alongside physical description and sensory detail. There was one poem in particular that I loved so much, I sent a quotation to my long-distance bestie. Which reminds me… on a side-note…not only did I hear Led Zeppelin’s “Immigrant Song” with all its viking lore the past two days in a row at work… today, someone came in wearing a knotwork-infused graphic tee depicting Odin.
- Terri Windling’s The Wood Wife. The landscape births the surreal in this amazing novel. I loved the elegance of that. Not to mention, building mythos from the land, itself, rather than piggybacking off existing cultural stories, seems so much more original (and more respectful). The ratcheting tension leading up to the reader’s first encounters with the book’s magic system felt so tangible, I slept one night with the light on. Who wouldn’t initially fear a being known only as The Spine Witch?
- Hermann Hesse’s Steppenwolf. This book definitely felt more applicable to my psyche as a teenager than it did once I reread it having grown into myself a bit further and resolved some of my internal stark contrasts. I was also a bit impressed with teen-me for having loved it in the first place, given that it’s more complex than a great deal of what I read now, outside of some toothier poetry. There’s also a werewolf novel Blood & Chocolate by Annette Curtis Klause that quotes Steppenwolf, and I love that one, too.
- Alix E. Harrow’s The Once and Future Witches. I wrote a found poem using some words from the beginning of this novel, and a snippet of paraphrased dialogue, etc. The magic system, the description, the vibe… all of it is top tier. The idea for the found poem came from a poetry/collage prompt journal, and I knew immediately which of my recent reads I wanted to use. There are so many wonderful words in this book!!! And it’s about witches. Alice Hoffman’s Practical Magic series is also outstanding, at least as much of it as I’ve read so far. And Rachel Harrison’s Cackle. In case you need further witchy reads. Here’s a cute witchy photo for some variety and interest, with my poem below.
My found poem:
Once and Future Kisses
Nickety-pickety,
crush lit cherry.
Ashen kiss. We
tangle, wild crows
in a wood thick
with stolen magic.
Great red heartbeat
thrums pulse points
under my tongue.
Sparks shower
white-hot behind
closed eyes. You
taught me how to
tremble. Your will,
my words, the lost
ways. “No such
thing,” you whisper
into my mouth.
“Nothing lost that
can’t ever be found.”
So I cheated and mentioned more than just the original ten in my descriptions… I really REALLY love books, even if my attention span has been finicky the past several years or so. Nearly every book I considered reminded me of another, just as worthy, then sometimes another after that.
I also discovered in the process of rounding up those books for winnowing down to ten, that I’ve misplaced my Noor Unnahar poetry/collage prompt journal. That alone might be motivation enough to get me to do some tidying up. I’d like to do some more with it soon.
Thankful AF for the luxuries of reading, and books, and creative writing, and poetry, and art. Are they really luxuries? I don’t know. Perhaps not.
I’m reminded of something from YET ANOTHER book… Blood, Bread, And Roses, by Judy Grahn. I think in the introduction, the author mentions a proverb about what to do if you’re starving: buy a loaf of bread and some roses. Bread to feed the body, roses to feed the soul. Because you also need something to prompt you to go on living, once you’ve eaten.
To me, that’s what all the humanities accomplish, along with broadening your knowledge and your empathy, and enriching your understanding of your place in the world.
All the Bright and Sparkly Things 
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