The Book: Until I Find You

I've been imagining John Irving, an excellent wrestler and writer from what I know, wrestling with Harry Potter and I hope he breaks the Brit boy's little spectacles this week -- honestly what a week to publish a book up against the Potter kid -- only John could pull it off.

So I'm reading the new Irving novel, liking it a lot, but surely a little spooked, as I'm a single mom with a ten-year old and such characters figure largely in this new book. I can happily say the fate of that ten-year old seems the furthest thing from the life of my kid.

When I read Irving I realize he's just a masterful, gifted story-teller and frankly, we'd give up ANYTHING to sit around the tribal fire and have the chief distract us with a quirky, detailed, twisty-turny STORY. Tell me a story, tell me a story, tell me a story! It's not far from a staple in your life -- food, drink, story please.

My Cape Cod vacationing mom friend and I were talking today about all the books we read when we were kids -- the ages of our kids now -- and how voracious we were, reading non-stop all summer. We were naming titles, piles of them. We were talking about the librarians who knew us personally, who we knew well and respected, appreciated and who could zing us with a recommendation of a certain book they thought we might like. Like?!? Like!?! We loved it and they were our saviors turning us on to titles.