Reading post: Books from the long shelf above the TV

August is almost over, so before I leave on my trip to San Diego tomorrow, I'll post another reading update.  In August my goal was to read five books from the long shelf above the TV. Books that end up here don't get read very often, in part because I can't reach them. I had to get up on a stool to pull down the five I chose. This is how the reading month went:

1. From the Yaroslavsky Station: Russia Perceived by Elizabeth Pond. Though it's wildly out-of-date (published in 1981), I still wanted to read Pond's description of her trip on the Trans-Siberian Railroad and her perceptions of life in the Soviet Union, because I rode the Trans-Siberian back in 1986. Pond updated her book twice: in 1984 and 1988, after which I guess she just gave up! It might be interesting to take a look at the 1988 edition. A caveat: the book is incredibly boring. Pond includes so much detail, so many statistics, as to make the book almost unreadable. I did enjoy her musings about what would happen next to Russian leadership (Brezhnev was still in power in 1981). She assumes that the next leader will be much younger and perhaps slightly more open to change. In fact, Brezhnev (b. 1906) was succeeded by first Andropov (b. 1914) and then Chernenko (b. 1911), until finally in 1985 a youngster (Gorbachev, b. 1931) grabbed the reins and changed everything. She was definitely not expecting that. And then came Yeltsin (also b. 1931). And then Putin, the real youngster (b. 1952), who dragged everything back into the Dark Ages.
   
   Even though the book is outdated and dull, I'm keeping it. It was my father's.
   
   
2. In Leningrad by Joseph Wechsler. This book was a little better -- out of date, sure, published in 1977, but most of it is historical, so it doesn't matter. Some of it was terribly dull, but I found the description of the Siege of Leningrad (880 days from 1941 to 1944) fascinating. I also enjoyed his take on the Romanovs, and his stories either jogged my memory or told me things I'd never known. I've been to Leningrad, of course, in 1986 (it was called that then), and I remember really loving it, even though we were only there for a couple of days. I've been to the Hermitage, I've been to Pushkin, I know what it's like to wander the deserted streets very late at night but have it still be light (we were there in mid May, too early for the White Nights, but they were pretty darn white). Keeping the book, in part because it was my father's, but also because I enjoyed it.
   
   
3. Great Harry by Carolly Erickson. I remember when my father bought this book, which was published in 1980. He brought the hardcover home from the bookstore (Shirley Cobb's?) and showed it to me, very excited because it was written by what he called a "young woman" (she was 36 when she wrote it). I think he was trying to interest me in writing books, showing me that it was possible. "Hmm," I responded, deciding never to write such a book. But it's a sweet memory. My father was not pushy with his daughters, though he valued "pure" education over the practical sort. He didn't approve of my little sister getting a degree in Nursing until she had first gotten a degree in Biology. My mother wanted me to switch my major from Rhetoric to Engineering, but my father was perfectly happy to have me take Ancient Greek and other not very useful classes. I don't know what he expected me to do with my life, but once in a while I got a little clue.
   
   So, anyway, Great Harry. It's a life of King Henry VIII, not a subject I'm very interested in, but it was mildly amusing. I learned some things I either never knew or had forgotten. Erickson stresses that this is a "personal history," not a political one, and she includes all sorts of details about what Henry bought (jewels, clothes, books) and how much he paid for it all. It seemed to me that the book had plenty of politics too, but I guess it would have been hard to leave that out entirely. Great Harry reminded me of a novel I've been meaning to read, Wolf Hall by Hilary Mantel. Maybe I'll put that on my list for next year (this year it's too hard to add anything long). Anyway, I doubt I'll ever read this book again, but I'm keeping it in memory of my father.
   
   
4. Love, Medicine & Miracles: Lessons Learned About Self-Healing from a Surgeon's Experience with Exceptional Patients by Bernie Siegel. This wasn't my father's book (obviously -- he never would have read something like this). I think I picked it up because my mother said my Aunt Helen had read it and liked it when she was dying of lung cancer. It's a self-help book about loving yourself and willing yourself to beat cancer. The parts about expressing your feelings and actively deciding to live -- and therefore making the best choices about your care and looking after yourself -- all that is fine. But the underlying message that I got from it is that it's your fault you have cancer, it's related to your bad attitude as well as your bad habits. When I think of the wonderful, positive, clean-living people I've known who have died of cancer... The book also isn't very well written. I thought it would be a quick, easy read, but no. Siegel keeps circling around, back to the same points, then off to a new point, then circling back around. I kept thinking, "Haven't I read this already?" and then off we'd go again. I started wondering if he has a better book -- maybe his writing improved over time -- so I looked at his website. He's written a LOT of books, and they all seem to be about the same thing. I think I'll just give this book to Goodwill.
   
   
5. Centennial by James Michener. I have been meaning to read this book for a long time, because it's basically a fictionalized history of Colorado. I used to have a paperback of it, but it was in very bad shape, so when I found this hardback copy (maybe at Goodwill?), I threw the paperback away. I was really looking forward to reading it this month, even though it's 907 pages. And I was tickled when I started reading it and realized it was also a history of the South Platte River. Our cabin near Alma is very near the headwaters of the South Platte; in fact, the South Platte runs across our land.
   
   The book isn't really a page-turner, so I didn't think I'd finish it by the 31st, but I figured I'd take it on my trip, read it on the plane. Then I got to the bottom of page 208, moved my eyes over to page 209 -- only it wasn't page 209, it was page 177. What? It turned out that my copy was missing pages 209-240. The signatures were bound incorrectly -- there were two copies of pages 177-208, and pages 209-240 were nowhere in the book. So I threw it in the trash. No donating this one -- it's missing 30 pages. I'll find another copy of Centennial one of these days and I'll read it, starting on page 209.
   
   

In September we move on to some more bookshelves in the living room -- the tall shelf below the steins and demitasse sets, and the biography shelves above the piano. I decided to combine these because I didn't think I'd come up with enough books from just one or the other. 

Most of the books on the shelf below the steins are coffee table type books, not really things you typically read cover to cover. As for the biography shelves, I've read a high percentage of the books on them. But I still managed to find a few volumes in both places that I hadn't read.

Once again, I have chosen just five books for this month, because it's challenging to read even five books that I'm not longing to read.

Two are from the shelf of coffee table books and three are from the biography/memoir shelves. Two are short and three are longer. One I'm interested in reading and the other four I don't have strong feelings about (but I'm not actually dreading any of them). Wish me luck.