Shelf Love has been around since 2008, and until this year it was never difficult for me to post whatever I wanted to about what I was reading. Teresa and I have both always taken the view that we do this because it’s fun, so if it stops being fun, we don’t do it. In many ways our delightful laziness aligns, and we are in agreement on this score. No challenges, no pressures, no stacks of books looming over us, no certain number of words a day, nothing we must read in order to please our hordes of fans. (Er… hello, is this thing on?) We just… read what we want to read, and then we write about it.
This year has been a little different for me. My book count is way down this year, and I’ve been faux-destressing with television instead. The books I’ve read, I haven’t written about. I’ve got at least ten or twelve wonderful books I’d genuinely like to write reviews of — I’m totally convinced you’d love them as much as I did — but I can’t seem to muster the energy to talk about them, even briefly. For some reason, this year is swallowing my reading.
So I’m going to let that go. I’m going to start fresh, and write about the books I’m reading now, and get to the ones I get to. Something is better than nothing. If I have some kind of miraculous infusion of extra time, I might even get to the books I read earlier! (Whew. I feel better already.)
Some of you may already know that Laurie Colwin is one of my favorite authors. Her novels are perfect: funny without being farces, serious without being heavy. Besides her novels and short stories, she also wrote a column for Gourmet magazine. Home Cooking (and its sequel, More Home Cooking) is a collection of these columns, and it, too, is exactly right: funny, touching, practical, wise. She has chapters on many of the food situations we all find ourselves in, whether we like it or not: food disasters, finding ourselves alone in the kitchen with an eggplant, cooking for a crowd, making our own version of comfort food. The book is half memoir and half practical application, and Colwin talks about her days in a tiny kitchen in Manhattan, draining her pasta in her bathtub because her kitchen sink was too small, or making hundreds of tuna fish sandwiches at a protest for the SDS in the sixties. Most of the chapters contain a recipe for something you might not expect: toasted cheese, beef tea, rosti, shepherd’s pie for 150 people. By the time you read the recipe, you’ll be expecting the unexpected, though. In fact, you’ll wonder how you did without it.
This was a re-read for me, and as many re-reads can be, it was deeply comforting and pleasurable. Not only is Laurie Colwin a wonderful writer, she reassured me that I’m still capable of deriving pleasure from the books I love, and that I still belong here on the blog.