The House Library and July 4th

Every house we have ever rented up here has had one thing in common. Books. If you live in a place like Maine where it isn’t fit for humans half the time, books are a necessity, not unlike food and water. What else to do when there’s a foot of snow on the ground and more on the way? Each house has a collection of books, some of them bought for renters to read. I can tell because their spines are straight and unwrinkled, usually John Grisham or Elin Hilderbrand. Isn’t that what people read over the summer? But sometimes I stumble across a gem.

The first week at Loon Call I found one that frustrated and a second that beguiled. That’s always the chance you take when you open an unknown book. The first one I picked up was Kingdom of Fear by the frustrating Hunter Thompson. The Gonzo-Journalist who had appalled and amazed me 40 years ago with Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, now frustrates me. Where did all of his nihilism and arrogant self indulgence get him? A self-inflicted gunshot to the head. The older I get, the less patience I have with narcissism, no matter how talented a writer the narcissist may be. Reading Thompson at 62 is a much different experience than reading him at 25.

Then, as if God knew I needed a mental shower, I stumbled across this book...

It was stacked under several Ken Follett books. When I saw the endorsement from Oprah, I almost passed. In truth, this is by far the most girlish book I’ve ever read. I don’t say that as a criticism, just an observation. The author was unknown to me, a German named Nina George. This book was written in German, later translated into a couple dozen languages. Parts of it were tedious, other parts too predictable for my taste. But it was so beautifully written, even as a translation. Incredible. And, unlike Thompson, entirely hopeful and celebratory of life. 

I do this every time I come up here. I plow through a half a dozen novels...because I can. I have the time. My attention isn’t divided. But now, the library at Loon Call Cottage has been exhausted and I must hit up the Owl and Turtle for reinforcements.

Pam just left the house in her morning kayaking outfit, a bright pink athletic ensemble with a sky blue Camden, Maine baseball cap. She will disappear into the  fog and by the time she returns it will have lifted. It will be time for breakfast. Then, who knows? It’s the 4th of July, a national holiday which has suddenly fallen out of favor in our woke new world. The people around this lake still celebrate it if the booms, cracks and pops from last night are any indication. We will celebrate it too. I’m still grateful for my citizenship, if a little less triumphant. The sins of America do nothing to dampen my appreciation for her virtues. Show me another country without flaws and I’ll show you a country without great responsibilities or accomplishments. We struggle with our past sins. We wrestle with how to atone for them, but we move forward with gratefulness.