dual personalities

“I’ve been reading the old books, books that I’ve read before. The first time you read a book, you don’t read it at all carefully; you just read it for the story. You have to keep rereading. Every year or so I read Shakespeare straight through. But then I go to the latest by Agatha Christie or Rex Stout. I read every book of theirs. I do like a book with an elaborate plot. But I haven’t any definite plan of reading. I read almost everything, and I like anything that’s good.”
–P.D. Wodehouse

Peter Vilhelm Ilsted, Woman Reading by Candlelight, 1908

I’m with P.D. I’ve never understood people who don’t re-read books. I do it all the time. I like to read Raymond Chandler on a semi-regular basis, and since he only wrote a few books, one must re-read. I also think of books by Jan Karon and Alexander McCall Smith as a sort of comfort food. Nothing calms the soul like a visit to Mitford or Botswana. This past summer I re-read a lot of Eudora Welty. And, of course, there’s J.D. Salinger. His oeuvre is small, but every once in awhile a new gem is unearthed. I found a short story of his in a copy of The Best Short Stories of the Saturday Evening Post–wow! And sometimes when we re-read a book that we read many years ago at a spectacularly younger age, we discover a whole new book. This was the case when I recently read Ivanhoe by Sir Walter Scott. What a great book! (Sometimes, it must be noted, the opposite is true–when a much-loved book doesn’t quite measure up on the second go-round.)

The best re-reading is scripture. Over and over until it enters this dullard’s brain and lives there. Like Sky Masterson says: “Don’t tangle with me on the Good Book. I must’ve read it through at least a dozen times.”

Thomas Cromwell by Hans Holbein

My newest hero is Thomas Cromwell, thanks to Hilary Mantel’s wonderful book, Wolf Hall. Here’s one of my favorite quotes from it:

“It’s easy to employ some child who will total the columns and push them under your nose, get them initialed and then lock them in a chest. But what’s the point of that? The page of an accounts book is there for your use, like a love poem. It’s not there for you to nod and then dismiss it; it’s there to open your heart to possibility. It’s like the scriptures: it’s there for you to think about, and initiate action. Love your neighbor. Study the market. Increase the spread of benevolence. Bring in better figures next year.”

Really, that’s the main thing, isn’t it? Engage your brain and try to improve things for all in your care.