I love Super Bowl Sunday.  Nope, not for the football, or the parties.  To me, Super Bowl Sunday means only one thing:  a whole day of reading anything and everything I want to read.  No chores, no TV, no social obligations, not even any writing.  I reserve that one special day a year just for my books.  Last year I was on the beach with a blanket, a camera, and a bag of novels.  Today, it was a bit chilly for that – 60+ but super windy – so I stayed on my sofa in my jammies and never ventured outside.

To prep for the big read, I make sure to have plenty of page friendly snacks – mainly chocolate – and a stack of books I most want to read.  Pre-game I thumb through the stack to decide what I want to lose myself in for a whole day, reading back covers and skimming random sections.  This year I have a great team, all first string reads.  To kick-off the day I finished up Wish You Were Here, by Stewart O’Nan.  Then, mid-morning, I started a new book, one that’s been waiting on the top of my to-be-read pile – Bring Up the Bodies, by Hilary Mantel.

After I’ve been reading for a while, I periodically pause the novel to read short stories from a new collection. (my answer to Super Bowl commercial breaks)  I’m totally excited today to be reading one of my favorite short stories authors, George Saunders, and his much-lauded Tenth of December.   His stories are the perfect Super Bowl of Books commercial breaks, smart and funny and memorable.  I continue in this fashion until after midnight, knowing if I stay up way too late immersed in my fictional world, well, at least everyone else will be sleep-deprived tomorrow, too.

My Super Bowl of Books is not for everyone, but for those of us who really do not give a damn who wins a football game, it is the best sport I can imagine.

As I explained last year, my year-end list of books is not a best-of-the-year list, or a most-under-rated list, or a most-over-hyped list, or any of those other lists you see out there.  I’ll let the experts put those out.  Instead, my list is very personal, and this year very brief.  Not because I didn’t read some great books in 2012 (though I didn’t fall in love with many, I have to admit).  But because there just weren’t that many that made me want to give away everything I own to have written them.

Neither of the books on my little list was even published in 2012.  One I read early this year, one I just finished.  One is a collection of short fiction, one a novel.  The thing they have in common, though, is that they are the books that spoke to me, that resonated in my soul.  Written the way I want to write one day.  They are my goal to reach for, my holy grail of writing.

1)      Tunneling to the Center of the Earth, Kevin Wilson. Last year Wilson’s book Family Fang was at the top of my “wish I’d written that” list.  This year it’s his older collection of short stories.  While there is a feeling of sameness about some of the stories, I think the book as a whole rises above this complaint.  I’m not sure what it is about his work that I am so drawn to.  Maybe it’s because, as I said in a previous post, his stories are quirky and funny, often strange and sometimes sad.  But they are also kind – it’s obvious he has great compassion for his characters.  Something all writers should remember.

2)      Little Bee, Chris Cleave.  This book was published four years ago or so, and I never read it because, for some reason, the cover turned me off.  Thanks to Nancy Lauer for giving me her copy and telling me I had to read it.  That’s what’s so great about having bookish friends – they introduce me to books I might never have read without their recommendations.  Little Bee is one of those, and I’m really grateful.  The writing is beautiful, the characters so memorable, so real, the story itself so heart-breaking and yet somehow hopeful.  Here is, once again, an author who cares deeply about his characters.  There is great depth of emotion here but without melodrama, and multi-layered characters who are neither all good nor all bad but a mass of contradictions, as most humans are.  That’s what I’m reaching for in my own work.

Both of these books have humor and tragedy, sadness and hope.  What more can we ask of literature?

Well, it’s been 6 months since I posted what I’m reading or have just read, so thought I’d share that with you this week.  As I’ve said before, don’t expect reviews here.  Just gut reactions over my recent reads.

• Best book I’ve read lately:  11/22/63, Stephen King.  I’m not usually a big Stephen King reader – I’m just not into horror or scary stuff.  But this book is time travel, and OK, I have to admit it.  I love time travel books.  When they are done well, that is.  Stephen King is the master of plotting, and he did this well.  It didn’t need to be 850 pages (I got muscles in my forearms from holding the damned thing up) but it was a fun read, and I was engrossed almost all 850 pages.

• Book I couldn’t finish:  The City & The City, China Mieville.  I’m going to go back to it at some point, but I didn’t get far into it because my mind kept wandering.  I think it was the names mostly – felt like I was reading Tolstoy without the payoff.  Like I said, I barely got into it, so I’m going to try again, give it at least a couple more chapters.  Then, if I still can’t get into it, I’ll give up.

•  Book I’m reading now:  I just started Train Dreams, the novella by Denis Johnson.  Given how short it is – 116 pages – I should be able to finish it pretty quickly.  I’ll let you know what I think soon.

•  Next on my “to be read” list –  Novel:  Little Bee, Chris Cleave.  Can’t believe I still haven’t read it.  Thanks for the loan, Nancy, and I’ll try to be finished with it before I’m back in C’Ville.

• Next on my “to be read” list – Short Fiction:  There are several short story collections I am dying to get my hands on.  George Saunders, who many agree is one of the great American short story writers of our time, has a new one coming out in January, Tenth of December.  I adore his work – his characters are funny and odd and interesting, and his stories have emotional resonance long after reading them.  Another George, George Singleton, has a new collection out now, Stray Decorum.  George is an amazing southern writer whose characters are the people I grew up with.  In fact, he lives not far from where I grew up in upstate SC with its strip malls and industries and dying little towns. He totally gets the people who populate his stories, and I do too. Last, but certainly not least, is Alice Munro’s new collection, Dear Life.  Alice Munro leaves me breathless with her prose and her storytelling gift.

• Book I’m going to reread soon:  Still Anna Karenina, Tolstoy.  I’d planned to do it much earlier, but haven’t gotten around to it yet.

I have to say, I haven’t read a book in a while that blew me away.  In fact, several novels that I’ve read over the past few months were over-hyped, disappointing and predictable books that I wished I hadn’t wasted my time finishing. You’ll have to figure those out for yourself – I don’t like to trash other writers’ works.  But if you know of something I absolutely have to read, please let me know.  I want to be blown away.