Books: A Memoir

I just finished a book called Books: A Memoir, that I bought last spring at The Strand in New York City...a book about books, actually. The author is superfamous but not well-known—Larry McMurtry. He's written nearly thirty books, including the Pulitzer Prize-winning Lonesome Dove. He also co-authored Brokeback Mountain, for which he received an Oscar. But that's not what the book is about.

The book is about McMurtry's lifelong obsession with books, starting from his childhood. His parents never read to him and for a while, he was confused that stories could actually be made up. He had a hard time grasping the concepts of fantasy, story, and invention until his cousin gave him a gift that changed his life—a box of nineteen books.

That gift quickly made McMurtry realize that reading was what he was meant to do; it was “probably the cheapest and most stable pleasure in my life. Sometimes books excite me, sometimes they sustain me, but rarely do they disappoint me...” In his mid-twenties, McMurtry decided he wanted to become an antiquarian book seller, and has been one for about fifty years.

McMurtry first started selling books simply to finance his voracious reading habits. His book collection started with any books he could find. He'd steal from the library, find books in abandoned farmhouses, pick them up at charity stores, or find them in junk shops. For the first twenty years of his book hunting career, he actually read nearly every book he found. “I think sometimes that I'm angry with my library because I know that I can't reread it all.”

McMurtry has handled at least a million books in his life, and is still buying books, old and new. He talks about the intellectual and tactile pleasures of bookselling, his weird fascination with French literature (“I just liked the foreignness of it.”) and affinity for English travel books (“The English have always gone everywhere, and written about it.”), how he gets irrationally competitive at auctions, his fascination with the “silent migration” of books, and his uncanny ability to find volumes inscribed by his friend and fellow bookman Franklin Gilliam; Gilliam often inscribed racy notes to girlfriends in his books. One day he moseyed into McMurtry's bookshop, found one of his books on the shelf, opened and read the inscription, and fled the store, embarrassed. McMurtry never saw him again.

The book gave me a great picture of the crazy, intriguing, romantic world of bookselling—about how there are famous book scouts that the general public doesn't know anything about, about how tricky it is to estimate the cost of an entire library and bid for it, about the eccentricities of bookmen. McMurtry also talks about some of the interesting oddities he's picked up over the years living in a world of traders, including a Sumatran village drum, a Maori war club, and a “fine skull collection.”

Underlying the decades of adventures in book hunting was one motive—McMurtry just never wanted to be without books he wanted to read.

If you love books—not just reading, but actual books—if you like being around them, picking them up, how they feel in your hand, their weight, texture, smell, type, binding, history...you'll enjoy this memoir. It speaks to those of us who will always retain an affection for books, even in a world that values things more practical—for those of us who love books apart from what's in them.

Magic

A week ago today marked the official start of the holiday season at Disneyland, so Nate and I went last weekend on Sunday since we knew all the decorations were already up (yep, we cheated). Main Street was resplendent in bright garlands, wreaths, and lights and greeted us with its giant Christmas tree, with pretty presents and smiling people surrounding it. After a couple days of gloom and rain, we spent a lovely afternoon going on ride after ride without a grown-up care in the world. We went on It’s a Small World Holiday, all decked out in a million twinkling lights. We twirled around in the teacups, screamed on Space Mountain (well, I did, anyway), and took the train around the park. Nate bought me cheetah-print Mickey ears in Adventureland. Holding hands, we watched the parade, and I bounced around just as giddy as any eight-year-old that was there, waving to the princesses and singing along. We walked under the pretty garlands and beads and ornaments hung in New Orleans Square. We overate delicious Mexican food under glowing glass star lanterns. We saw Santa’s real reindeer at Santa’s Round-Up and walked to Sleeping Beauty’s castle, crowned with glittery icicles and gleaming snow. And after we ate our ice cream cones as we watched the holiday fireworks show, it started “snowing.” Magical Disney Christmas snow. And tears of joy streamed down my face.

I know it’s silly and childish, and I almost felt embarrassed for being so excited. But you know what? I hope I never lose that childlike awe, for Disneyland or anything else. No matter how many times I go, it never gets old. The promise of enchantment and adventure as I enter through the front gates never leaves me wanting. I’ve been an annual passholder since middle school…and I still just can’t wait to go back.

The Wish List Is Here!

It's tradition: time for the annual wish list. And since my birthday and Christmas are coming, I've made sure it's a substantial one. I'm thoughtful like that. (You're welcome!) Here it is:Anthropologie gift card. Every December 26th I head to my favorite Anthro store in L.A. and hit the sales. Help my shopping endeavors? Bedhead After Party. This product makes your hair smooth, shiny and smell delicious. Like candy, seriously. It's kind of magical. I'm just saying. Find it at Target for about $20.

In the past, my wish lists have consisted almost exclusively of books. But I actually have so many books now that I don't have room for many more! I want this book though--Common Sense by Thomas Paine. I've never read it, have wanted to for a long time, and don't own it. Paperback, please.

J'adore by Dior. I love perfume and wear it every day. But I have fickle olfactory issues and don't usually stick to one scent for very long. However, this is the one perfume that I have consistently adored (get it?) for the longest time. I get so many compliments when I wear it. I'm out and need another bottle. Find it at department stores.Is this not the cutest ornament you've ever seen?! I found this on my friend Erin's list and definitely had to add it to mine. (We are both macaron connoisseurs.) Find it online at Sur la Table for $9.95. (Pink, please.)

Oh, goodness. Isn't this Marc by Marc Jacobs bag beautiful? I try not to rub my face on it when I see it at Nordstrom. It's the Classic Q--Natasha Crossbody Flap Bag in faded aluminum. Oh, and it's $368. (Womp, womp...)

This is Lancome Hypnose Doll Lash Mascara. I'm obsessed with mascara and unlike every other makeup product, I retain no loyalty to mascara and am always trying new ones. This looks great. Find it at Nordstrom or Sephora for $25.Neutrogena Rapid Wrinkle Repair Night moisturizer. Okay, don't laugh at me. I'm almost 30, and while the impending threat of wrinkles is real, I actually read that this product reduces redness and splotchiness, which is why I really want it. My bare skin is not cute. I ran into a friend at Target once and she asked me if I was sick. No, no, I was not. I just was not wearing makeup. Find it at Target or Neutrogena's website for about $20.Starbucks gift cards...because those nonfat 2-pump vanilla lattes don't pay for themselves, do they?

Tiffany & Co. silver anchor necklace. How cute would this go with a striped top and the Sperrys I'm supposed to not know that Nathan is getting me for Christmas?! Find it at Tiffany's for $200.

There you have it! What do you want for Christmas?

Halloween Health...Finally!

Halloweentime at Disneyland.

Fun at the pumpkin patch.

Pumpkin pecan cheesecake at The Cheesecake Factory. (It's unreal...)

Pumpkin carving. (Designed by me, carved by Nate.)

Last year, Halloween marked the beginning of a painful (not to mention unsightly) 3-month long saga of major dermatological drama. (Read about it here.)

The Halloween before that, I felt like a zombie…sick with swine flu and literally bedridden for nearly two weeks. (Read about it here.)

But you know what…I feel GREAT today! And, as you can see, I enjoyed the month of October celebrating all things fall and festive.

Healthy Halloween!!

Pinteresting...

According to a Strengthsfinder tests, one of my strengths is “Input.” Here’s the description for quite a nondescript strength:

You are inquisitive. You collect things. You might collect information, words, facts, books, and quotations, or you might collect tangible objects such as butterflies, baseball cards, porcelain dolls, or sepia photographs. Whatever you collect, you collect it because it interests you. And yours is the kind of mind that finds so many things interesting. The world is exciting precisely because of its infinite variety and complexity. If you read a great deal, it is not necessarily to refine your theories but, rather, to add more information to your archives. If you like to travel, it is because each new location offers novel artifacts and facts. These can be acquired and then stored away. Why are they worth storing? At the time of storing it is often hard to say exactly when or why you might need them, but who knows when they might become useful? With all those possible uses in mind, you really don’t feel comfortable throwing anything away. So you keep acquiring and compiling and filing stuff away. It’s interesting. It keeps your mind fresh. And perhaps one day some of it will prove valuable.

This, in a nutshell, is completely, wholly, and entirely accurate as it applies to me—it explains my desire to see the world, go to museums, read books, find quotes…I want to know the why’s, who’s, and how’s of the world. It also, incidentally, provides pretty sound reasoning to legitimize the lifestyle of every hoarder. (I am not a hoarder. I am a collector. Of important ideas! Of things wonderful and valuable and necessary!)

And I think this might help you understand why I am so completely obsessed with a little website called Pinterest. Pinterest provides virtual pinboards on which to link (er, “pin”) whatever my little heart desires. With Pinterest, I can…

find amazing recipes that I have every intention of trying out (someday…), like these roasted pumpkin cupcakes with Mexican chocolate buttercream frosting.
I can find ideas for all of the fabulous parties that I intend on being famous for and throwing regularly in the future, like a Jane Austen-themed soiree.
I can link to instructions for unbelievable hairstyles that I’m waiting to try once my hair grows out, like this hair bow. (Unreal, right?!)

I can find inspiration for interior décor so that I can style my future Baroque castle in the opulent style that I plan to live in.

And, of course, I can start planning the vibe and organization of my future personal library.

But seriously, Pinterest is extremely useful. Although I am not a gourmet chef, interior designer, party planner, wedding coordinator, or crafty mom, I could be. I’ve actually gotten a lot of fashion ideas and inspired thoughts from the words, photos, and art I’ve found. And the great thing is, I don’t have to ever throw any of it away…cat carcasses and rodent feces will not be found in the bowels of my collections. They’re all safely organized on my virtual pinboards…on Pinterest.

If you’d like to see my pins, you can find them at www.pinterest.com/lisabirle.

Das Boots

Scarves, boots, and snuggly sweaters...fall fashion is the greatest. Yet, although I am an adept at shopping, boots had always been the one item I couldn't seem to get a handle on. Like fedoras (or as I call them, "cool-girl hats"), the endless styles, shapes, and colors of this particular type of footwear had paralyzed me from ever purchasing any. Heeled or flat? Slouchy or structured? Brown, gray, or black? Buckled or Zippered? Ankle or knee-high? These are all serious decisions. How is a girl to choose that one perfect pair?

And then, I found them. (Or did they find me?!) At Target. For about thirty bucks.

Although the men in my life have given them mixed reviews (Dad: "Oh, ready for that excursion to the Australian outback, I see..." Nathan: "Finally, a place to keep your blaster, young Jedi..."), my stylish girlfriends have confirmed their cuteness, as does the feeling I experience when I wear them with, oh, everything.

Cue Nancy Sinatra. These boots are going to do a lot of walkin' this fall...

Breathing Books

For about a year, I've been neglecting my beloved books. A sacred hobby, reading somehow (and quite tragically) fell to the wayside during a busy year when it undoubtedly would have done my soul well. I usually read 20+ books a year. This year I've read six. Pitiful...

I've recently noticed how much I miss my books and have been reading a lot more. I'm reading four books right now, and all of them are non-fiction; both of these facts are very strange for me.

Tonight I've been reading in Thoreau's Walden. It's my dad's old copy, published in 1960. You can imagine how great its pages smell. I nearly cracked the binding clean in half when I opened it. It has sentences underlined in red pen and little notes in some of the margins. It's an amazing copy. Here's a bit that I underlined:

A written word is the choicest of relics. It is something at once more intimate with us and more universal than any other work of art. It is the work of art nearest to life itself. It may be translated into every language, and not only be read but actually breathed from all human lips;--not be represented on canvas or in marble only, but be carved out of the breath of life itself.

Wow. Reading is the greatest.

Now, back to my books...

To Thine Own Self be True...But How?

to be nobody but yourself in a world which is doing its best day and night to make you everybody else, means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight, and never stop fighting. --ee cummings

I first happened upon this quote in high school, and I always liked it...in theory. There's obviously something freeing and romantic and right about being exactly who you are, societal norms be damned. Screw punctuation rules, ee cummings! Forget the status quo! Seize your individuality! Carpe diem!

Some of us long to be ourselves and strive to explore our real identity, but we don't know how. Where do we even look for that, and how do we know we're being ourselves? Where does our identity come from? Is it what we do, what we have, what people say and think about us?

What if we WANT to be like everyone else? We've all heard, "To thine own self be true." But what if we don't want to be who we really are? What if we think being ourselves means being hopeless, confused, hurt, ashamed, ugly, a failure? Maybe there isn't freedom in being ourselves. Maybe being exactly who we are is the scariest thing of all. We are constantly validating--or undermining--our worth through things that are not sources of Life.

As Christians, many of us feel like we've got this identity thing down, but even in the "Christian world," I see conformity and comparison and competition. The identity game might not seem as worldly because it's based less on possessions and money, but it's often just as much determined by the esteem of others, reputation, and appearance. If you've been on more missions trips, clocked more hours serving, are in more small groups or Bible studies, or, heck, work at a church, then clearly you must be more pious, no? Clearly Jesus loves YOU more, right?

Carl Jung wrote, “The acceptance of oneself is…the epitome of a whole outlook on life. That I feed the hungry, that I forgive an insult, that I love my enemy in the name of Christ—all these are undoubtedly great virtues. What I do unto the least of my brethren, that I do unto Christ. But what if I should discover that the least amongst them all, the poorest of all the beggars, the most impudent of all the offenders, the very enemy himself—that these are within me, and that I myself stand in need of the alms of my own kindness—that I myself am the enemy who must be loved—what then? As a rule, the Christian’s attitude is then reversed; there is no longer any question of love or long-suffering…We refuse to admit ever having met this least among the lowly in ourselves.”

Apart from God there is no life. No truth. No real identity or worth or value. The only accurate way to understand ourselves is by who God is and what he has done for us. Jesus isn’t the most important thing to find our identity in; he’s literally the only thing to find our identity in. The lies that we've identified ourselves with, the broken parts of our hearts and minds, the places of weakness--God can step in and heal and breathe new life and replace self-loathing with self-acceptance. And we have to claim that life...seize it, protect it, and guard it, because it's in THAT truth that we are able to find ourselves, to be exactly who we are, and to give glory to God. God has given us words, influence, heart, and desires...how are we to use them as expressions of who he is? That, friends, is the journey...

And I would call it a journey and not a battle, ee cummings, because although it takes time and effort and prayer and community and God and self-awareness to not compare and not feel discouraged, we are not fighting for victory. We're journeying in freedom from a victory that's already been won.

For in him we live and move and have our being. Acts 17:28.

Here's the Scoop (er, scoops...)

Let’s just be real/state the obvious: gelato is the greatest thing ever. It’s heaven in a rich, smooth, semi-frozen dairy product. And it is impossible to overstate the percentage of time that I thought about, looked for, and ate gelato on my trip to Italy this summer. But before you judge me for consuming such unseemly quantities of dessert on my Italian vacation (which...why would you?), let me just say that this trip was designed to sanction the gorging of ice cream—not only for the practical reason of attempting to stay cool in the sweltering heat of the cities as we traipsed around uneven cobblestone streets, hoofed it around marble floors of museums, and meandered on ancient dirt roads, but also because as a responsible tourist, I felt I had to take it upon myself to find which city in Italy has the best gelato. Here’s the documentation and results of my meticulous research:

Verona—our first gelato of the trip. Amarena (ah-mah-RAY-nah) and bacio (BAH-cho). Named for the famed chocolates from Perugia, bacio is a hazelnut/chocolate combination, and a personal favorite. The gelato in Verona was one of the best of the trip.

Venice—Cookies and nocciola (noh-CHO-lah), which is hazelnut. This was the best gelato of the trip. The fact that we had been walking in the stifling alleys of Venice for what seemed like hours, looking for the Rialto bridge in a maze of corners and canals, might have made even the grossest cold food seem like manna, but I’m pretty certain that this was the creamiest, best-flavored gelato we tasted.

Florence, day 1—Cioccolato (cho-koh-LAH-toh), back-to-the-basic chocolate.

Florence, day 2—Nocciola and stracciatella (strah-cha-TEL-lah), which is like chocolate chip gelato. These were good flavors but the texture was a little more grainy/icy than I would have liked. (P.S. that is a little plastic spoon...and no, I am not stabbing myself in the eye...)

Rome, day 1—Amarena. At Piazza Navona. Perfection.

Rome, day 2—Cookies and nocciola. (Can you tell that my favorite flavors are amarena, nocciola, and cookies?)
Sorrento—Triple chocolate (milk, white, and dark) and Ringo, which is an Italian sandwich cookie.
Capri—Cookies, amarena.

STATS:
Cheapest—Verona, €1.50 for two scoops
Most expensive—Capri, €3.50 for two scoops
Best single flavor—amarena, which is a creamy ice cream with cherries in it.
Best flavor pairing—“cookies” in Venice. I don’t know how to describe this flavor. It’s yellow and kind of cake batter-ish with bits of chocolately cookies.
Best place to eat gelato—In a piazza, preferably near a fountain, full of people to watch, in the late afternoon shade. (Or, like, anywhere, at any time.)
Also noted—sugar wafer cones are far superior to cake cones, which get soggy too quickly, even for the most ravenous gelato consumer. Gelato in cups is unacceptable.

Although I've been back for a few months now, I am still lamenting America’s inability to produce anything as delicious as Italian gelato. Seriously...yum!

David, the Giant

One of the defining moments of David’s early life was the fateful day that he battled and defeated the Philistine warrior Goliath in the Valley of Elah. David’s triumph over the champion from Gath has been immortalized in countless works of art, but none of them are as famous as the sculpture of David depicted by the High Renaissance master, Michelangelo. This, friends, is a masterpiece.

On our second day in Florence, we walked in the golden light of the late afternoon sun to the Galleria dell'Accademia, where David has stood since 1873. As you enter the museum and turn the corner, you find yourself at the beginning of a long hallway with the sculpture waiting for you at the end. I can't imagine anyone's response being less than a jaw-drop, a breathy “wow,” and complete awe. I have never been so moved by a work of art in my life.

Ironically, Florentines actually refer to David as "The Giant." Michelangelo’s monumental sculpture was the first nude to be carved on such a colossal scale since antiquity. Seriously, the most startling aspect of the sculpture was its towering size! David stands seventeen feet tall, which is eight feet taller than Goliath's height is recorded in the Bible (he was said to be six cubits and a span, which is near 9’9” tall)!

Michelangelo chose to depict David before the battle. His protruding muscles and swollen veins are taut and tense, as though adrenaline is starting to pump power through his restless body. His flexed torso, sturdy limbs, and oversized hands and feet reveal the strength we are to expect from him. He seriously looked so real, I could have sworn I saw him breathing. Hayley and I actually joked that we were waiting for him to move, and maybe wink at us...

A cool thing about Michelangelo's David is that it's not a self-contained composition; David’s head is abruptly turned and he seems to be emotionally connected to a presence that we do not see. And if you stand in the right spot, you can find yourself between David and his foe. He is not a static, relaxed figure; there is anxiety in his alert eyes, and he is standing casually to disguise his fear. He is ready to face the killer who had slayed every Israelite who had previously been sent into battle. Sometimes it's easy to forget that David was just a vulnerable adolescent who had no business slaying a giant! He had never been in battle, never carried a sword, never worn the uniform of the Israeli army...clearly, his success in battle was not a testament to his brutish strength or superior intelligence, but to his faith in God. In Psalm 108, David wrote “With God we will gain the victory…” What a great reminder to always acknowledge that it is God who brings victory, not our own strength or determination.

God also reminds us through David’s life that he judges his followers by their character and not their appearance. The Lord said to Samuel, “...man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart” (1 Samuel 16:7). Michelangelo was commissioned by the city of Florence to create this sculpture from a poorly blocked out slab of marble that had been abandoned a generation earlier because of a dangerous flaw in the marble. Michelangelo was to “make, carry through and complete” it. He saw David in the marble and set him free. God also sees who we are below the “marble” that we try to cover ourselves and identify ourselves with, be it success, wealth, power, or fame. God looks at the heart.

David is such a popular subject in art history--why? He's complex. He's a paradox--the beautiful sculptures and paintings throughout history that depict his likeness reveal a hero, but a follower of Christ who has read about his life in the Old Testament also understands how broken and flawed he was, and that it was his faith in God that made him truly great. Charles Swindoll wrote that “Our world is desperately in need of models worth following. Authentic heroes. People of integrity, whose lives inspire us to do better, to climb higher, to stand taller.” David is just that—an authentic hero. The Bible does not make any pretenses about his failures and does not hide them; he's recognized as a flawed human, one who has made poor decisions in his life and suffered the consequences for them--something everyone can relate to. Yet, he is respected and remembered as a godly hero, and followers of Christ look to him as an example of how to cry out to God and how to rely on him continually in the midst of desperate circumstances.

The toughest situations that David found himself in were some of the most important moments of his life. In 2 Samuel 22: 2-3, he wrote “The LORD is my rock and my fortress and my deliverer; My God, my rock in whom I take refuge; My shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold and my refuge…” David recognized that the living God was his security and support. These verses encourage me when I am exhausted and enduring my own battles to acknowledge the active God in my life the way that David did.

David had giant faith in the Lord and reminds us that in our weakness, in our times of confusion and uncertainty, we can take refuge in him. I love this sculpture with all my heart. It's not just stunningly beautiful to look at. It reminds me of David's character, and that his humility, integrity, and authenticity are what I want God to grow me in today.