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Holidays ‘09: Ten Books No One Else Will Suggest
By
Published: Nov 25, 2009
Category:
Beyond Classification
Come now the holidays, and — if we can stop thinking about the bad news that surrounds us — maybe we can make these few weeks an island of caring and kindness. In another universe, we might express those tender feelings directly, but that feels so icky to most of us that we’d rather limit emotion to the small card scotch-taped to a gift. In that case, let’s buy gifts that matter.
Books matter. (So do music and movies and products, which I will deal with next week.) Not most of the books on the bestseller list — they’re product, carefully calculated to build franchises for writers capable of cranking out a new book every year. Those books are just fine. Ok, they’re fine for someone. But not for you. And not for the people you care about.
One great advantage to this list: I don’t have to limit myself to 2009. Why? Because almost everything ever published is available on Amazon. Or, if you prefer, at an independent bookstore.
If you know disco at all, Sylvester James was the singer with the church-bred voice that ranged from a rich baritone to the stratosphere. "(You Make Me Feel) Mighty Real" — for me, that was the big hit. Talk about propulsion! Anticipation! Heat! It’s not the silly lyrics ("And the music’s in me/And I feel real hot/Then you kiss me there/And it feels real good") that burn into you, it’s Sylvester’s gospel refrain — "Woooh, I feel real, I feel real, I feel real, I feel real." And he was. He was a man and he was a woman, but most of all, he was a lover of an idea: that the world could be a place “where race and gender no longer divide us and we love whom, when and how we want”. This biography is complete and compassionate, inspiring and haunting, and it’s as good a gift for bigots as it is for those whose ideals of brotherhood include freaks, drag queens, football players and MBAs.
Think James Bond, only he’s a master thief. Or Cary Grant, stealing jewels on the Riviera, never breaking a sweat or soiling a shirt. That is Arsene Lupin. In the most famous of the Arsene Lupin stories, he breaks into a Baron’s residence, takes nothing, but leaves a card for his unwitting host: “Arsene Lupin, gentleman burglar, will return when the furniture is genuine.” Have friends and family who are gaga for France? Or who like superheroes – okay: super villains — who use their smarts for wicked sport? Or who are just plain snobs? This is so for them.
Pema Chodron
Deirdre Blomfield-Brown went to the posh Miss Porter’s School and graduated from the University of California at Berkeley. She married, moved to New Mexico, became a teacher, had two children. Nothing spectacular occurred to her — until the day in 1972 when her husband announced that he was having an affair and wanted a divorce. As so often happens in that moment, her life "fell apart." But then she found Buddhism; now she’s probably the best-known American — man or woman — writer on Tibetan Buddhism. Pema Chodron may be a Buddhist scholar, but she doesn’t talk or write like one. she rarely uses technical terms. She comes across like your smart, no bullshit next-door neighbor. And she pierces all your armor. Is there a commercial for Buddhism in these pages? Only a small one — she doesn’t preach. There is a larger one for meditation. It is not, however, the most urgent commercial. That message? Be kinder to yourself. And then let your kindness flood the world.