*heart*

Remember when I wrote about my summer read-a-thon? I'm well underway, and all I have to say is read this book: Eat, Pray, Love.

I'm in love with Elizabeth Gilbert. If she was here, I would hug her and make her a mug of tea or a shot of bourbon and we would sit on the porch and talk about Italy. I know that this book is also about Indonesia and India, but I'm only in the Italy part and already I'm wondering how many times I can reread this book without it getting creepy. And I'm only on page, like, 120.

I am in awe, too, because I think travel writing is insanely hard. To me. You have all these competing tasks: Tell the reader about the place you are -- what you're seeing, doing, etc. that others might like to see, do, etc. -- while also delving into the inner workings of that place. What's going on there? What are people doing, saying, feeling? What is that place about? Then, you have to show some inner awareness, some vulnerability, some tension, something that makes me want to keep reading your story, otherwise you just seem like a privileged wiseass who gets to go to all the most beautiful places in the world and rub it in the faces of people who are stuck at desks, behind brooms or some such drudgery in comparison to gazing at the Taj Mahal at sunset.

And, really, isn't that most of us?

What I'm definitely not interested in is this stop-by-stop listmaking diary entries. *Went to X. Ate Y. It was good. Next time, try ABC.* Not to point fingers here (because here I am having written close to nothing about my traveling), but I picked up Frances Mayes' book, "A Year In The World: Journeys of a Passionate Traveler," because I'm a sucker for an interesting title. But, boy oh boy, did I have to skip about half that book. If you asked me where she went, I couldn't really tell you. (Though I could say that not having good places to stay is a Big Deal--better have some quiet and a garden to wander around.) The food discussions were the most interesting, if that tells you anything. (And I haven't read anything else by her, so this is no reflection on her entire body of work. And, to be fair, I haven't read anything else by Elizabeth Gilbert, either.)

Anyway, back to EPL. Literally. I must get off here and go read. Have you read it? And what other books about traveling do you recommend?

Going for the most stars! Ever!

OK. This is where I admit that I fudged the elementary school reading contest. Was it second grade? Third? I know it was a grade where you cared about these things, so, for me, it could have been when I was a freshman in college. You know what I'm talking about, right? All the kids would come in with a list of books they read during summer break. The teachers would tally them up and stick a shiny golden sticker next to your block print name. The stars would shine at you from the cinder block walls, all boastful in their shimmery shimmeryness.

One year I won. Here's how: by taking the easy way out. I went to the library that summer and picked out the easiest, shortest books I could find. Nevermind that I probably could have, if I wanted, plowed through all of Mark Twain's stories. Or maybe even Tolstoy's (Ambitious? Yes. Would I have understood anything I read? No, but why would that have stopped me?). Instead, I came home with all the Dr. Seuss' you could carry. And therein came the strung-out golden stars.

Not an out-and-out lie. But, OK. I cheated.

So, in an effort to right this karmic wrong, I'm holding a one-person read-a-thon for the summer. Want to join? I just finished Chris Adrian's The Children's Hospital (Interesting, though it seemed like a 600+ page short story.) and Charles Frazier's Thirteen Moons (for all the hype, not that gripping).

Now what? There's the summer where I read all of Steinbeck. And this summer I may do something similar. Any suggestions? I'll put a list here, later, when I get my stock of golden stars replenished. And I'll send you some, too, if you want...