Anne Fadiman in her book, Ex Libris: Confessions of a Common Reader, speaks of her “odd shelf.” She says, “It has long been my belief that everyone’s library contains an Odd Shelf. On this shelf rests a small, mysterious corpus of volumes whose subject matter is completely unrelated to the rest of the library, yet which, upon closer inspection reveals a good deal about its owner.” Fadiman then provides samples of such odd shelf. She shares, “George Orwell’s Odd Shelf held a collection of bound sets of ladies’ magazines from the 1860’s, which he like to read in his bathtub… Vice Admiral James Stockdale, having heard that Frederick the Great had never embarked on a campaign without his copy of The Encheiridion, brought to Vietnam the complete works of Epictetus, whose stoic philosophy was to sustain him through eight years as a prisoner of war.” Fadiman further discloses that her own odd shelf contains sixty-four books about polar exploration.
Reading her excellent essay, I took stock of my library and tried to see if an odd shelf may be detected in my collection. I am a bargain book hunter, and I am an inveterate reader, so I own an eclectic collection – from Garbriel Garcia Marquez’ Love in the Time of Cholera to Moose Hunting in Canada to The Art of Origami Vol. 10 (who can resist at P30). If gauging from the number of books one has on a certain topic or theme can one identify the odd shelf, I would say that I do own quite a collection of travel narratives (travelogues?). What are travel narratives? I am hard-pressed for a definition, but to the best of my ability to define, a travel narratives are certain books that talk about places, people and perception an author may have about a certain locale or geography.
Example of this is Paul Theroux’s travel series. He traveled through the Americas on a train, journeyed throughout Africa, travelled around the Mediterranean basin, explored the Pacific islands, and other exotic places. His narratives are also a study of human behavior. Although he has taken a more sarcastic tone that I don’t appreciate in his later travel works, I always enjoy the idea of going on adventures, discovering new things, seeing beauty and splendor even in what other people consider mundane.
Bill Bryson is another favorite, His humorous takes on the places, people, and things he had seen has given me laugh out loud situations a lot of times – sometimes in awkward places where people look up and stare at the possibly crazy person beside them, uproariously guffawing at who knows what. His rollicking adventure through the Appalachian trail, or through Europe is always entertaining. Bryson makes arduous hiking fun. And the way he describes the places. There are moments of pure poetry. He says in Neither Here nor There, “Is there anything, apart from a really good chocolate cream pie and receiving a large unexpected check in the mail, to beat finding yourself at large in a foreign city on a fair spring evening, loafing along unfamiliar streets in the long shadows of a lazy sunset, pausing to gaze in shop windows or at some church or lovely square or tranquil stretch of quayside, hesitating at street corners to decide whether that cheerful and homey restaurant you will remember fondly for years is likely to lie down this street or that one? I just love it. I could spend my life arriving each evening in a new city.” Exactly, right?
Peter Mayle’s accounts of his life in Provence takes me to that exotic place I have only heard of, read about or seen in romantic movies. He wrote a series of memoirs of his stay in Provence, and his most famous is “A Year in Provence.” This is followed by a series of Provence memoirs. Droll and funny, the narrative tells of the food he has eaten, places he has been to, indoor plumbing and the eccentric people he has met. Mayle also wrote novels set, where else, in the different places in Provence. My favorite is “Hotel Pastis”- the story of a wealthy Englishman building a hotel. Although I was a little bit disappointed with the movie adaptation of “A Good Year,” Mayle’s vision of that part of France was integral in the narrative and was captured quite well on film.
Frances Mayes’ Under the Tuscan Sun started my interest in this genre. A friend gave me a battered copy (a Booksale find- what else?). The film with the same title that starred the divine Diane Lane was loosely based on Mayes’ book. Her vivid account takes you right there – Mayes’ doing her early morning marketing – the grotto where an old man brings flowers to everyday – the food, the scent, the texture – all there for one to virtually experience. You can almost feel the warm juices of the grapes that tasted purple. Her next book, “Bella Tuscany,” although not as captivating as her first was also charming. This of course started my buying any Tuscan-themed books I could find in my friendly neighborhood secondhand bookshop.
There are other travel writers – Orhan Pamuk’s poignant recollection of the Turkey of his youth, Ma Jian’s introspective travel through Communist-regime China. Graham Greene’s travels eloquently written travel memoir has captured not only the places he has been to, but also his personal journey toward himself and gives us a glimpse of who he is.
But why do I buy these books? Why are these books fascinating? The very idea that a separate world out there is waiting to be discovered mesmerizes me. The thrill of discovery – the wonder of experiencing the world in a whole new way is captivating. I know I may never see these places I read about, but reading about them keeps the dream alive.
Tuscany! Provence! Iceland! China! Africa! Columbia! Tierra del Fuego!
What is your odd shelf?
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