shoeless joe
Will has been reading my books, and it makes me so, so, so, elated. He found my boxes upon boxes of books in our attic, and dug until he found my Ian Fleming books. Fleming, of course, is the author of the James Bond books, and Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. I hadn't remembered I owned any of those, but he found them (and in my defense, James Bond is much more vulnerable/likeable/real in the novels--and I was young). Will loved all of them. There's not much substance, but the vocabulary is more challenging than Artemis Fowl.
After he finished those, I handed him my stack of W.P. Kinsella books today. Kinsella is probably my favorite Northwest author, and quite possibly would make it into my top 10 author list. I hadn't touched any of his writings in a while either, and I was struck by just how much I liked him back when I first discovered his magic (and when I was an entirely different person), and how much I like him today (finding books that rang true years ago to me, and that still due and a rarrrre find).
Before I gave him the stack, I re-read Shoeless Joe. The novel astounds me. It's deep, and moving, and poetic, but it's so approachable. It's about baseball, it's about the unknown, it's about family, it's about J.D. Salinger, and it's about the American Dream. His novel is what so many other writers strive for. Something that could confound even the most diligent book club, but is something that you could read to your children.
I love how Kinsella blended our world with his fictional Iowa farm. Normally we accept a novel as being in the real world, but since the characters never interact with anyone who is real, we never have to test the illusion drawn out by the author. Kinsella took the two universes and made them one. He has baseballs' most revered and despised players interacting with Ray Kinsella, his protagonist. Ray is fictional, but I suspect is not unlike W.P. himself. What makes it beautiful is that you're never sure if J.D. Salinger and Shoeless Joe Jackson became fictional, or if the magical baseball field became real. I don't think it matters much either way.
Kinsella doesn't require the reader to know anything about baseball to "get" his story. You could read this book, after having spent your life on a desert island, and come away outraged at MLB for banning these players. You wouldn't know how to play the game, but you would know the pain and sadness the 1919 series caused in America (and that it still pains fanatics today).
He originally wrote this as a short-story, Shoeless Joe Jackson Comes to Iowa. It reads like a complete story, and I suppose you could stop there and be fulfilled. Going on just brings everything to a new level of appreciation.
Once he finishes reading Kinsella's books, I think I'll hand over High Fidelity. It's time he learned of The Velvet Underground, Sonic Youth and Elvis Costello. If/Once he learns to love those bands, he'll fall in love with David Bowie. And, that, right there, is the REAL goal.
After he finished those, I handed him my stack of W.P. Kinsella books today. Kinsella is probably my favorite Northwest author, and quite possibly would make it into my top 10 author list. I hadn't touched any of his writings in a while either, and I was struck by just how much I liked him back when I first discovered his magic (and when I was an entirely different person), and how much I like him today (finding books that rang true years ago to me, and that still due and a rarrrre find).
Before I gave him the stack, I re-read Shoeless Joe. The novel astounds me. It's deep, and moving, and poetic, but it's so approachable. It's about baseball, it's about the unknown, it's about family, it's about J.D. Salinger, and it's about the American Dream. His novel is what so many other writers strive for. Something that could confound even the most diligent book club, but is something that you could read to your children.
I love how Kinsella blended our world with his fictional Iowa farm. Normally we accept a novel as being in the real world, but since the characters never interact with anyone who is real, we never have to test the illusion drawn out by the author. Kinsella took the two universes and made them one. He has baseballs' most revered and despised players interacting with Ray Kinsella, his protagonist. Ray is fictional, but I suspect is not unlike W.P. himself. What makes it beautiful is that you're never sure if J.D. Salinger and Shoeless Joe Jackson became fictional, or if the magical baseball field became real. I don't think it matters much either way.
Kinsella doesn't require the reader to know anything about baseball to "get" his story. You could read this book, after having spent your life on a desert island, and come away outraged at MLB for banning these players. You wouldn't know how to play the game, but you would know the pain and sadness the 1919 series caused in America (and that it still pains fanatics today).
He originally wrote this as a short-story, Shoeless Joe Jackson Comes to Iowa. It reads like a complete story, and I suppose you could stop there and be fulfilled. Going on just brings everything to a new level of appreciation.
Once he finishes reading Kinsella's books, I think I'll hand over High Fidelity. It's time he learned of The Velvet Underground, Sonic Youth and Elvis Costello. If/Once he learns to love those bands, he'll fall in love with David Bowie. And, that, right there, is the REAL goal.