Tudo e um pouco a mais
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| Bando De Cá Tudo e um pouco a mais |
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terça-feira, 14 de agosto de 2007 Oprah's Bookshelves Atrizes recomendando e falando sobre livros. Escolhas legais, curiosas e interessantes. Quais as surpresas, a melhor seleção, os gostos inusitados e os melhores comentários? CLAIRE DANES I haven't lost myself in a book in a while — I've been in a bit of a dry spell. I usually get books from friends whose taste I trust, and my dad did give me a subscription to the New York Review of Books this year. He likes it and thought I would, too. He's a voracious reader. I have friends who read entire novels in the bath, and I'm not like that — I don't zip through books. But I invest in them completely. And I'm very interested in intimacy — how people relate to each other, what the inherent limitations are of choosing to love someone, and how we are very limited, actually, in our efforts to escape our loneliness. I think there is a strong sense of loneliness in all the stories I've picked. They're full of people who feel a bit abandoned. I don't know why I am drawn to that, but I am. Deception By Philip Roth What struck me about this novel, which is the story of an affair between two people, is the unusual way Roth tells the story — devoid of any description, stripped down to the dialogue alone. At times you aren't clear on who is speaking. His male characters are all so unsympathetic, brutal even, but vivid and charismatic and engaging. I don't necessarily like them, but I feel intimate with them. That's quite an achievement. Light Years By James Salter A friend gave this book to me, and I was just so struck by how beautifully the sentences were designed. The narrative is meditative and poetic. It seems a very accurate telling of what it is to be married — that is, for a fairly privileged white person to be married. At moments I would just stop, amazed by how elegant Salter's prose is and how carefully he portrayed the inner lives of these people. The characters are estranged from each other, and I think maybe Salter is saying that it's impossible to ever know somebody — that we can't fully connect: As much as we struggle to and want to, it's not entirely possible. Hills Like White Elephants By Ernest Hemingway Like the Roth novel, this short story contains some of the most exquisite dialogue I've ever read. It's only four pages, covering about 45 minutes, as a couple waits for a train in Spain. You come to realize that they're talking about her having an abortion. Actually, they never speak about it overtly, but their story is just heartbreaking. Again, it's about people who are recognizing the distance between them. It's a very appealing story for an actor because drama exists in what's not spoken. A Single Man By Christopher Isherwood I discovered Christopher Isherwood in college. His writing style is so direct, warm, and inclusive. There's one passage in this book, published in 1964, that has really stayed with me — the description of America. The narrator is a British man teaching at a California college. He and a few colleagues are having a conversation, and an American woman is saying how romantic Mexico is. She's critical of America. The protagonist argues with her, talking about the virtues of the United States. He says that its beauty is in its abstraction. I thought that was an amazing insight — possibly true and compelling at least. Anagrams By Lorrie Moore Moore is completely unsentimental but able to stir enormous feelings in the reader, or, certainly, in me. Her style is so original: The way this book is structured, the narrative is like an anagram. It begins with Benna, a singer, and her neighbor Gerard. The characters in each succeeding chapter have the same names, but they're different people. In one, she's a schoolteacher and he's a graduate student. I've never read a book where the identity is the same but always changing. The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle By Haruki Murakami This is a kind of Alice In Wonderland premise: A man is looking for a cat. Murakami describes these banal domestic experiences, but, cumulatively, he spins an outrageous, trippy story. That's a kind of magic — to make the magical seem ordinary and vice versa. It's such a tender story, his search for the cat and, by extension, a life. That one task leads him on a labyrinthine journey. Marcadores: Oprah's Bookshelves posted by RENATO DOHO | 10:25 AMGWYNETH PALTROW I have a lot of time to read when I'm on a movie set, and I've been really lucky to have been given some great literary works over the past several years. I have the issue of Poetry magazine in which "The Love Song Of J. Alfred Prufrock" by T. S. Eliot was first published, and I have first editions of the works of J. D. Salinger. But one of the best gifts came from Ethan Hawke when we were shooting Great Expectations. I was having a hard time because my first big movie, Emma, had just been released, and everything started to change. I had my first crisis. I found myself asking, "What's happening to my world? To my life?" In the middle of all this, I went into work one day and found that Ethan had left me a big cardboard box full of his favorite books: The Stranger by Albert Camus, Motel Chronicles by Sam Shepard, The Passion by Jeanette Winterson, to name a few. Isn't that the best present? He gave the books to me with the intention of taking me outside myself and having me connect with poetry and literature — things he thought would give me perspective and make me feel better. It was such a generous gesture. I remembered his gift last year when I had a birthday party. I told my friends that I didn't want fancy presents — just for each of them to bring me a copy of their favorite book and to write on the first page why it's so special to them. It was a wonderful night, and I had so much fun discovering what my friends thought about each book. In a way, that's what I've done here: On the following page, I've listed seven of my favorite novels and the reasons I love them. Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë My mother, who is this brilliant actress [Blythe Danner], started reading Jane Eyre to me when I was probably 9 or 10 years old. It was the first adult book that I got lost in. There's one scene when Jane is a child living with her relatives, and an older cousin begins to torture her. She fights back, but ends up getting locked away in a room as punishment. I so felt her frustration. When I read it again later in school, I connected to different parts of the book — especially the scenes with Jane as a young governess, new to Rochester's house and rather unsure of herself. Crime And Punishment By Fyodor Dostoevsky One of my all-time favorite novels is Crime And Punishment. I read it in high school, and for some terrifying reason, I really identified with Raskolnikov. It's so funny, because he sort of behaves amorally, but he has an incredible sense of right and wrong. Obviously, I couldn't identify with him as a killer, but I could understand what it means to know that something's wrong but do it anyway. I was 17 when I read it, and the feeling of having betrayed one's sense of right and wrong — and then living with the consequences — was something that I could completely identify with. The Sheltering Sky By Paul Bowles This is one of the most visual books I've ever read. I just felt as if I was witnessing every scene firsthand, and my imagination was painting the most colorful pictures of North Africa, the cafés and the desert. I remember that when I read it, I was completely taken away from my life. Actually, I think this was one of the books Ethan [Hawke] gave me. Franny And Zooey By J. D. Salinger The whole family dynamic in Franny And Zooey is fascinating. But for me, this book is all about the end, when Franny comes apart in the bedroom. The delicacy of someone that intelligent being so close to falling to pieces is intriguing to me. Goodnight Moon By Margaret Wise Brown My mom, who has this very rich voice, would read this book to me when I was really little. I would lie there in bed, and she'd say, 'Goodnight moon,' and do the whole thing. So I associate this book with safety and love. My parents got me the French translation for Christmas a few years ago (I've always been a bit of a Francophile), and I keep it by my bed. I just love the idea of blessing everything that's near and dear to you before you go to sleep with a simple 'Goodnight.' The Catcher In The Rye By J. D. Salinger The Catcher In The Rye was assigned reading for me in seventh grade. I think the reason everybody in the world connects with this book is because it's about being isolated — just slightly outside of what you perceive to be the norm. It's the ultimate story of being a little bit on the outside, and I think everybody sort of regards themselves as being that way. And the language! It was the first book I ever read that made me laugh out loud. Marcadores: Oprah's Bookshelves posted by RENATO DOHO | 10:23 AMCATE BLANCHETT Veronica Guerin was an Irish journalist who, in the early 1990s, wrote about drug dealers and major drug importers in Dublin. She railed against the ineffectual nature of the Irish legal system — how the government couldn't get these guys, who were blatantly guilty and walking into pubs and shooting people. Guerin had a sense of moral outrage, but also I think she loved to be at the center of life, doing something to make a difference. The great tragedy was that none of the laws changed during her lifetime. She had been threatened and beaten up for her writings and was killed in 1996. As a result of her death, there was a lot of marching, Concerned Parents Against Drugs became an important force, and changes finally occurred. What stuck me about Veronica Guerin was that she believed in the power and necessity of writing. I've tried to read popular books — the ones people are all abuzz about — and I can't help but think, "Oh, it's like fashion, where you feel this will be gone in a week." The other thing with a lot of books out now is that they're begging to be turned into films; they're being written with a cinematic eye, and I find it hard to spend time with something that's a bit cynically conceived. The books and the play I've picked feel to me as if they had to be written. They are intimate books, full of issues and characters that need to be heard. The Uses Of Enchantment By Bruno Bettelheim I read this in drama school. It's an analysis from a psychologist's perspective of the meaning and power of fairy tales. One example that sticks in my mind is the metaphor of a child going into the forest. Bettelheim makes the point that the structure of this story parallels children's experiences in life — how you can be frightened but eventually make it through to the other side. One can feel expendable — particularly in this day and age, and especially working in film — and for me, this reinforces the power of storytelling and the necessity of it. The True History Of The Kelly Gang By Peter Carey Carey is one of my favorite writers. The first book of his I ever read was a collection of short stories called The Fat Man In History. He also wrote Oscar And Lucinda — a beautiful story — which was turned into a film that I made. In Kelly Gang, the narrative voice is so unique. We Australians all know that outlaw Ned Kelly was hung after the famous shoot-out in 1880. But what Carey does is get inside his character's mind in such an illuminating and heartrending way. And there's not a trace of sentimentality in it. I so admire that as an actor, because I realize how difficult it is to do. Tender Is The Night By F. Scott Fitzgerald This novel was handed to me on a silver platter by my husband, who said, "You cannot die without reading this." I keep coming back to it because it's so detailed in recording the inner life of Dick Diver, the central character. His yearning — to save his mentally unstable wife, Nicole — just keeps unfolding. That aching is quite destructive but also so understandable. The word I think of with this story is "fragile." I was utterly struck by the fineness of Fitzgerald's writing and the timelessness of Dick and Nicole's failures. Voss By Patrick White Nobel Prize-winner Patrick White is one of Australia's great novelists and playwrights. This story is about Voss, a German explorer, and Laura, a young Sydney woman, who meet very awkwardly in a drawing room one hot afternoon. Voss embarks on a trek across Australia and writes her a series of letters, most of which never reach her; at the same time she writes letters he doesn't receive. It turns out that the act of expressing their true selves in the small, shut-down environment of colonial Australia allows them to fall in love. As a reader, you are in the most intimate position — privy to each one's thoughts. Voss's quest takes him through the center of Australia, which no white man has ever conquered and from which he won't return. But along this fruitless journey, he becomes more self-aware and more involved with this woman he will never meet again. It's horrible and tragic and unforgettable. Oleanna By David Mamet This play represented such a turning point for me as an actor. I'd just come out of drama school and I was playing opposite Geoffrey Rush. I had to leave my own baggage at the door and take on this character who would be understood by some and hated by others. Mamet has taken all the extraneous stuff away and left you with just this searing, polemic essential battle to the death. Geoffrey and I keep saying Oleanna is an inkblot test, because your reaction to it reveals to you your own sense of politics. It's so provocative — afterward, people were shouting at one another passionately. To see that happen in the theater lobby, which can be such a bourgeois, polite space, I just knew this is what I should be doing with my life. The Tibetan Book Of Living And Dying By Sogyal Rinpoche I've been dipping in and out of this book since my early 20s. I completely respond to one of its basic notions — self-responsibility. It's about preparing for a good death, and I've found that in having a child, you're confronted by your mortality each day as the child grows and blossoms. But every single element in our Western society is a denial of death. We don't want to think about it, which compounds the terror we feel about it. This book helps one to navigate one's way through the terror. Marcadores: Oprah's Bookshelves posted by RENATO DOHO | 10:22 AMJULIANNE MOORE A few years ago, a friend gave me a copy of Michael Cunningham's The Hours for my birthday. I hadn't read anything about it, so it was the most exquisite surprise. The writing is gorgeous. These characters are in incredible pain, and the book evokes the difficulty we all have in making decisions about our lives—decisions to be a mother, to be a wife, to be a friend. As isolated as each of these women feels, you eventually learn that their lives are woven tightly together — as are all of our lives, you realize. When I finished the novel, I thought, 'Wow, somebody will try to make this into a movie, but I can't imagine they'll be able to.' A year or two later, I got a phone call and was offered the part of Laura, the character, coincidentally, that I had responded to the most. I was so moved by the way her little boy, Richie, knows his mother and so visibly worries about her, partly because I have a little boy. Children pick up everything from you. When you see your child doing all right, you think, 'Oh, thank God — everything's okay.' Because you know if it weren't, you'd see it all over him. That was what I found so remarkable about their relationship — that even though she struggled to keep her unhappiness from him, her 3-year-old son felt every single thing she was feeling. I've always been intrigued by those kinds of struggles. I seem to have a propensity toward tragedy in fiction and nonfiction. I don't think that's a bad thing, necessarily. What I love most about the books I've chosen is that they reveal how incredibly difficult life is — it's not perfect, it's not rosy — and how what we struggle with is often the best part. Transactions In A Foreign Currency By Deborah Eisenberg This is Eisenberg's first collection of stories — and many of them hinge on how our perception of the world can be irrevocably changed. In the title story, a character answers the phone, and as she talks to the caller, a former lover, she glances toward the man she's having a drink with: "He seemed like a scrap of paper, or the handle from a broken cup, or a single rubber band — a thing that has become dislodged from its rightful place." I so responded to this wonderful notion that you can lose yourself in one moment, and afterward see everything in a totally different way. Slouching Towards Bethlehem By Joan Didion My favorite essay in this collection is "Goodbye To All That." One quote has always resonated with me: "I was late to meet someone, but I stopped at Lexington Avenue and bought a peach and stood on the corner eating it and knew that I had come out of the West and reached the mirage." As a child, I lived all over the world — we moved a million zillion times — and I never felt completely happy until I was in New York City. Like Didion, I felt that I'd reached the mirage; I'd found a place where anything could happen. And she talks about that: "I still believed in possibilities then, still had the sense, so peculiar to New York, that something extraordinary would happen any minute, any day, any month." Raveling By Peter Moore Smith My brother wrote this book — I had to put it on my list. It's a thriller, but it's also about the disintegration of a family and the ways in which our desire to protect one another can be destructive. I always thought writers were the bravest people, because they seemed to reveal so much of themselves in their work. My brother gave me an understanding of the process. He can take his experience and turn it 190 degrees, and it becomes something else, which is what I do with acting. He's made the art of writing not as foreign to me. I'm still so impressed by people who can create certain feelings on a page, but it was a revelation to see that what my brother and I do is, in a way, not so different. Tender Is The Night By F. Scott Fitzgerald The romance in this novel is so distinct, so interesting, and so surprising because it's so flawed. The couple — Dick and Nicole Diver — are gorgeous. You believe they're perfect, and then you find out that, in fact, they are deeply troubled — she especially. Dick rescues Nicole for a time, but he can't save her; she's too unstable. So they don't make it — they can't. It's an exquisite and unbearable love story. Our Bodies, Ourselves By The Boston Women's Health Book Collective I've had a copy of this book since I was 18 years old. I used it when I was hoping that I wasn't pregnant, when I was hoping that I was, during my pregnancies, after my pregnancies, whenever I was sick. Two weeks ago, I was in bed with this horrible fever; I thought, "This is the flu." But on Monday, when I still had this ridiculous fever, I opened the book and realized I had an infection from nursing. It's a little crunchy in tone, but it's the best women's health reference book I've ever seen. Beloved By Toni Morrison I read Beloved when it came out in 1987, and it was one of the most difficult books I've ever encountered. The rhythm of the writing, the cadence — it was like learning a new language where you're just banging your head against a wall. Then, after several chapters, a door opens and you're in. To me, the book is all emotion, a big morass of feeling. It's remarkable. What this woman goes through, what she believes she has to do is so horrific — you can't help but think, "How does she survive?" Marcadores: Oprah's Bookshelves posted by RENATO DOHO | 10:21 AMMARY-LOUISE PARKER I am such a book geek. I have been since I was young. My mother says that I used to stay inside and read in the dark. She would come into my room and open the curtains. I lived a lot in my head then. Everyone in my family loves words. My father taught me to appreciate books. He still finishes three a week and retains everything. My niece and I have sat around on a Saturday night reading the dictionary and trying to find the perfect use of a gerund. We once spent a weekend on the word codify. We're always writing some manifesto or other and asking the other to read it. I hope my child enjoys reading, because I think books are important in the development of a person. They teach you on some small level a sense of empathy. They help you hear a different voice in your head; they reveal a different sensibility. They get you thinking about unfamiliar topics, in ways and rhythms that you wouldn't normally encounter. A good book — it opens you up. Mr. Ives' Christmas By Oscar Hijuelos This book is easily the simplest and cleanest meditation on the act of forgiveness I can imagine. It's about a horrific event — the murder of Mr. Ives's son — and how a father's heart is shattered. It's like a Greek tragedy in the way it's constructed: There's a protagonist, his suffering and, finally, the benediction. I was so moved by Hijuelos' writing — how his Mr. Ives is almost taken down by the loss and how, decades later, he's brought back to life through his forgiveness of the killer. The Americans By Robert Frank I love photographs; I have a small collection of black and whites, but not a Robert Frank. If you gave me a choice between the Hope diamond and one of his images, I would take the Robert Frank. This is a book of pictures he took in the mid-1950s while traveling across America. I love the one of the men at a funeral in South Carolina, the picture of the man standing in front of the jukebox, the girl in the elevator and the one of the open road. I also go back to the image of a nanny — she's black, very dark-skinned—holding this baby who is so white, and it almost seems as if the baby has an expression of entitlement on his face. Each of Frank's photographs is like a little novella or little movie, and I get so lost in them. Selected Poems By Mark Strand I read mostly poetry, and Mark Strand is absolutely my favorite poet. His poems are economical, but they have such weight to them. I carry "Lines For Winter" from this collection in my wallet. It just explodes within me every time I read it; it gets right into my bloodstream. A good poem makes you feel as if you've had a shot of tequila or walked into a freezer. "Lines For Winter," "The Story Of Our Lives" and several others in this book do exactly that. Fugitive Pieces By Anne Michaels A boy named Jakob is discovered hiding in the mud of an archaeological site in Poland by Athos, a Greek geologist. The child's family had been massacred by the Nazis. The novel follows the pair to Greece, then Toronto. Athos' rescue of Jakob, that one gesture, affects countless lives. To me the book is about the courage it takes to be generous. It's about manifesting your compassion, and how that requires actual bravery. One Hundred Demons By Lynda Barry I'd hesitate to call this simply a collection of cartoons, because they're so subtle and sophisticated and humane. Among other things, Barry is able to conjure up the colloquial rhythms of adolescent girls. That was such a tricky time in my life — I was not a happy 12-year-old. Barry is so unflinching with her own memories. There's no romanticizing her younger self as anything other than awkward; she doesn't gloss over the embarrassing incidents in her later life, like a bad boyfriend. She's brought me to tears more than once. The Country Girls Trilogy By Edna O'Brien The Irish have a gift for telling dark, rich stories with a sense of compassion, so you don't feel like you're drowning when you read them. O'Brien is one of those writers. Unlike some of her heavier novels, this one has some levity, some sweetness. It follows two Irish girls who move to Dublin, then England. More than anything, it's the tone of this book — the romantic yearning of young girls — that really stayed with me. An Ocean In Iowa By Peter Hedges This book is a perfect little jewel. It's about seven-year-old Scotty Ocean and the unraveling of his family as his parents divorce. I was blown away by it partly because one of my best friends wrote it (he also wrote the novel What's Eating Gilbert Grape) and also by how spare, almost Chekhovian the writing is. It's all about the natural cadences of these people, which he captures and which are so hilarious. Marcadores: Oprah's Bookshelves posted by RENATO DOHO | 10:20 AMHOPE DAVIS Last summer I was reading The New York Times Book Review and saw a mention of The Jane Austen Book Club by Karen Joy Fowler. I was pregnant and not feeling that great, but the novel sounded intriguing, so I tried it. I finished it quickly and was left with this great curiosity about Jane Austen — I hadn't read her in college — so I picked up Pride And Prejudice. I couldn't stop; by now I've read almost all her novels. I love Austen's wit and style — she's incomparable. But I'm more often drawn to books about America. I've seen a lot of the United States, having stayed in so many different cities and towns for work. It's such a strange and fascinating country, and instead of learning about it through a textbook, I would rather discover its history and traditions and institutions through fiction and nonfiction writers. I'm so interested in understanding this place where we live. Siddhartha By Hermann Hesse I came across this short novel in college, when I was first introduced to all things Eastern: religion, literature, and history. It's about this notion that life is a journey you should undertake as an adventure, and you should never think there's a single goal to be reached. This is what a young man named Siddhartha learns while traveling through ancient India. At the time I read it, turning 20, I was waiting for things to unfold before me. I kept thinking, "Oh, when I get out of college, then I'll start my life." I found Siddhartha's quest to be a powerful lesson: The answer is in the journey. It has stuck with me and comforted me at different points in my life. Rabbit Angstrom: The Four Novels By John Updike No author captures the feeling of this country the way Updike does. These four novels — my all-time favorite books — follow one man, Rabbit (born Harry Angstrom), from his post-high school years in a blue-collar Pennsylvania city until his death. The result is an amazing history of America, especially what it was like to be an average Joe from the 1950s through the 1980s. If I have any understanding of the 1960s — the years when I was a baby — it's mostly from Rabbit. Up In The Old Hotel By Joseph Mitchell Mitchell was a writer for The New Yorker, and this is a collection of essays and stories about New York City in the early to mid-20th century. Most of the people he profiled were ordinary New Yorkers — like an old Staten Islander recalling the oyster business in that area — but through his writing, they become the most fascinating characters. I did a movie about Mitchell with my friend Stanley Tucci called Joe Gould's Secret. (Gould was one of Mitchell's subjects.) What I love most about this book is that the city it portrays has all but vanished from the one I live in now. Little House In The Big Woods By Laura Ingalls Wilder This is the first in a series of books that are based on Wilder's childhood, in the late 1800s. I love stories that give me a perspective on how easy American life has become in the 21st century. This was my introduction to what the people who settled this country went through. It's about how the Ingalls family spends the days just trying to obtain food and shelter and how the hardships they endure bring them closer together. My Antonia By Willa Cather This is another story of intrepid pioneers — a novel told primarily from the point of view of a boy, Jim, who lives near a girl whose family left Europe for the Nebraska prairie. I reread this novel every couple of years because Cather beautifully depicts the place and the people of that era — people who were tough and resourceful. Life now is physically so easy — how much time do we have to spend planting wheat or baking bread? — and the challenges have changed so much. It's appealing to be reminded of what hardy stock we come from. Travels With Charley: In Search Of America By John Steinbeck I love John Steinbeck. Like Updike, he is one of the great observers of American life. This is a chronicle of a trip Steinbeck took with his dog, Charley, in 1960 when they traveled cross-country in a camper van. Steinbeck watches a school anti-desegregation demonstration in the South and gives a firsthand account of how ugly things were. Other passages are more rueful and funny. His companion, the dog, has his own opinions about everything. It's such an intimate tale of these two souls going across the United States. Marcadores: Oprah's Bookshelves posted by RENATO DOHO | 10:19 AMRACHEL WEISZ I don't like endings. Opening and closing a book, picking it up and putting it back down, reading one page or three chapters at a time — you're still with those characters as you go about your life; they're knocking around in your head, kind of part of you. And they inhabit you for as long as the story remains not quite over. I sometimes don't finish a book because then the story never ends. I realize I'm doing that a lot, not reading the last few pages. Except for Philip Roth's novels — I'm a massive Roth fan. As for the other five books on my list, I'm just noticing I finished them all. American Pastoral By Philip Roth I found it so hard to pick only one Roth novel, but this has astonishing character studies. It's the story of Swede Levov, a golden boy who marries a former Miss New Jersey. It's a perfect-seeming life — except his daughter becomes a terrorist who plants a bomb that kills someone at a nearby post office. Swede tracks her down and finds her living in a hovel with a piece of fabric over her mouth because she doesn't want to breathe in and kill microbes. It's the most incredibly dramatic scene about a father trying to reason with his daughter, who's completely lost to him. My Ear At His Heart By Hanif Kureishi I think Kureishi is one of my favorite British writers. This is a memoir of how he came to his profession, and it begins with him finding an abandoned manuscript of his father's. Kureishi's mother was an Englishwoman, and his father had emigrated from India with dreams of literary acclaim (which never happened). I've come across mother-daughter memoirs, but there's something about male relationships that feels more secret and less familiar to me. Howards End By E.M. Forster The two very idealistic Schlegel sisters live together in London in the early 20th century. The novel is about the difference between ideas and real life and how both sisters learn to live — and learn to love. I first read it as a teenager, and then I reread it this past Christmas. Margaret and Helen are such unusual characters: two women struggling to put their morals and ideals into practice. And what's beautiful and interesting are their failures. On Beauty By Zadie Smith The reason I went back to Howards End was that last fall I read this book, and it is an homage to that novel. This is the story of Howard, an English transplant to a New England university; his African-American wife, Kiki; and their children. Howard is all intellect, and his wife is all instinct and passion. In a way, that's what both books are about — how limited the intellect is. As a teenager, I thought the famous passage in Howards End about "only connect" meant we have to connect with each other. But actually Forster writes about connecting prose to passion. The prose in life is our intellect. An Intimate History Of Humanity By Theodore Zeldin This is an exploration of the history of emotions and social customs of humans. It was a bit of a hit in England. Zeldin pre-sents stories of people from different cultures and eras on topics such as how the art of conversation developed. I thought people had always had conversations, but apparently they began as exchanges of simple information. I'm making the book sound dry, but it's not. Just look at a couple of the chapter headings — like "Why There Has Been More Progress in Cooking Than in Sex." That's probably the best way to explain it. An Anthropologist On Mars By Oliver Sacks Seven case studies of people who have a neurological disorder — for instance, color blindness — and the creativity that comes as a result of the seeming handicap make up this collection. The title is taken from my favorite essay, about Temple Grandin, an autistic woman who has this tremendous compassion for animals and designs very humane slaughterhouses. She says that when she sees human beings interacting with each other, she feels like "an anthropologist on Mars." The most extraordinary scene is when Sacks learns that she's made herself "a hug machine." I suppose what was so moving about it was her resourcefulness. She needed some kind of physical contact but couldn't accept it from someone else, so she created her own way of soothing herself. Marcadores: Oprah's Bookshelves posted by RENATO DOHO | 10:18 AMJULIA ROBERTS I believe in the power of timing. Certain books have come into my life in such a way that I can't help but think, "This is the perfect time for me to be reading this." I can usually read only before bed or when I wake up in the morning. One day I was at home on my little ranch in New Mexico and nothing was going on. It was cold outside, so as soon as I got up I padded into the living room, where I have all these bookshelves. On this particular morning, a book called Crazy Woman, by Kate Horsley, caught my eye. I pulled it down, built a fire, and dragged a beanbag chair in front of the fireplace. That was a great luxury — to actually sit down with a whole day free, start a book, and like it enough to just barrel right through. I got up once, I think, to get a cup of coffee. Other than that, anybody who came by my house that day would have seen me in different postures in this beanbag chair. When I finished, I realized what a joy it is to read books that take place sort of where I am. I could look out at the landscape so similar to the one the author was describing. Of course, sometimes I'm just as grateful to find a book that takes me a million miles away. When I was in Indonesia, everything was so foreign to me — exciting and beautiful but overwhelming. I had brought along Willa Cather's Death Comes For The Archbishop. Reading such an American story made me feel comforted. That's what I mean about timing: I got to read this great Kate Horsley book right there at home. Halfway around the world, I had Willa Cather's novel, which was exactly what I needed then. The Wild Palms By William Faulkner This would have to be my favorite classic novel. It's such a beautiful, tragic love story — a book that will just destroy you. And Faulkner's language is so utterly descriptive. He can write an entire page that consists of only adjectives and two commas. Actually, he's the reason I ended up passing high school English, because my punctuation was always kind of…eccentric. I would say to my teacher, "Well, you know, William Faulkner — he doesn't use proper punctuation." And one of my teachers ended up devising a system with two grades, where you were graded on content and then on whether it was properly written. An Imaginative Woman By Thomas Hardy I love Thomas Hardy. I don't think a lot of people know that he was also a great poet and a writer of short stories because he produced so many novels. One of my favorite short stories — and I'm not a big short story fan — is An Imaginative Woman. It's tragic. People are going to think I'm morbid, loving all these sad books. I actually don't mind a happy ending in a novel — certainly, it's nice when it happens. But when you've invested so much time and your fingers have pushed through all that paper and you get to the end... well, a tragic ending kind of goes with the tragedy of finishing a book. Written On The Body By Jeanette Winterson Jeanette Winterson has written many fabulous books, and I just think, "How does this woman sleep?" This story is so intriguing. One of the things that's amazing — I don't know how far into the book I realized it — is that one of the main characters is referred to in a really unspecific way in terms of gender. But I don't know if Winterson intends for people to know this before they read the book. It's kind of like you choose what gender the narrator is. And she actually pulls this off without the story seeming confusing — and without you even really noticing what she's done. The Red Tent By Anita Diamant This book was a gift. And when I first started reading it, I thought, "This is what happens when someone who doesn't know you very well gives you a book." After the first two pages, I thought, "This is a little, um, different, taking place more than a thousand years ago and all. And then I was hooked. It was riveting — the wives of Jacob, telling biblical stories from their perspective. This isn't my standard pick, and I don't know if everybody would embrace it, but it's just wonderful. The Heart Is A Lonely Hunter By Carson McCullers One of the most amazing books I ever read was The Heart Is A Lonely Hunter. McCullers was southern, and I'm southern. I wonder how much a non-southern person can appreciate some of the nuances that I consider very specific to that part of the country. In the subtlest, most unconscious ways, I'm able to get her description of, I don't know, humidity in a way that somebody who lives near the Great Lakes will never really know. It was published when McCullers was, what — 23 years old? I was still taking hour-long naps when I was 23. How remarkable that she had all that talent at her disposal at that age. Marcadores: Oprah's Bookshelves posted by RENATO DOHO | 10:17 AMJENNIFER CONNELLY I've always read a lot. The headmaster of my school was intent on turning even the kids who were hell-bent on becoming mathematicians into poets. We had poetry workshops from first grade all the way through to our 12th-grade graduation. I had great teachers, and I think that environment helped me develop an appreciation of sound and language. I especially love that when you read books written decades or centuries ago, you catch a glimpse of the way people once lived, thought and felt. A lot of the books I chose here I am in awe of — they're a bit impenetrable for a casual reader. I don't have the time anymore to sit down with reference books when I pick up something like James Joyce's Ulysses. It's a matter of biology — as a working mother I sometimes can't do what I set out to do. I find myself drooling over books at 10 at night, having passed out from exhaustion. But even the bit that I've gleaned from these works I've found to be magnificent. The Beauty Of The Husband By Anne Carson Carson is an extraordinary poet. She's eloquent and brutal and funny — not at all sentimental. In this book, which is arranged in 29 chapters (what Carson calls tangos), she captures domestic scenes of jealousy and fear and passion. She takes you through the unfolding of one couple's relationship — essentially, it's a story of a crumbling marriage, and I devoured it. The husband is chronically unfaithful. At one point, the wife speaks of how she had "seeing scars on her eyes from trying to look hard enough at every stone of every sidewalk in the city... or office block or telephone booth to wring from it a glimpse of the husband with someone else..." I thought that was beautiful — "seeing scars" on her eyes. Thérèse Raquin By Èmile Zola This is not particularly highbrow; it's a little soap opera-ish. Thérèse has a dreary life with her husband and his mother in 19th-century Paris. She starts an affair with her husband's coworker, and together they conspire to kill her husband. Toward the end of the story, the pair have exactly what they wanted — except now they can't bear to be alone together. They feel as if her husband's corpse is with them all the time. It's just devastating, that discovery. I've always found Thérèse Raquin compelling — how these two are ultimately suffocated by their own guilt and conscience. Ulysses By James Joyce I would say I understand maybe three of the zillions of allusions in this book. Still, I find it such a remarkable thing. Ulysses is an epic that loosely follows The Odyssey, but it's populated by modern people with all their foibles and misdemeanors. It's so intricate — and as I said, so much of it is over my head — but I love the way Joyce talks about the "ineluctable modality of the visible." You shut your eyes, open them again, and find the world continues without your witnessing it. It's a beautiful reflection on change and time and one's place in the scheme of things. Mrs. Dalloway By Virginia Woolf I am a huge fan of Virginia Woolf. I love the way she puts words together, and especially the way this book is structured. Two characters, Clarissa Dalloway and Septimus Warren Smith, are struggling with the aftereffects of World War I and, in a way, both searching for meaning in their lives. Early on, Clarissa thinks, "What a lark! What a plunge!" She uses all these exclamations and has this girlish way about her. For his part, Smith is running around rambling about universal love. He's passed into what we call madness. Though Clarissa feels vaguely unsatisfied, societal conventions, like the need to be punctual for dinner parties, still are important to her. At the end, you don't know who has found the truth. It's a fascinating musing on these shell-shocked people and the meaning of life in a war-torn society. Marcadores: Oprah's Bookshelves posted by RENATO DOHO | 10:16 AMJODIE FOSTER Books have always been my escape — where I go to bury my nose, hone my senses, or play the emotional tourist in a world of my own choosing. I'm a "head first" person, really. Words are my best expressive tool, my favorite shield, my point of entry. One of my first memories? Hunching in the car with Chariots Of The Gods, waiting for my mother to drive me to school. When I was growing up, books took me away from my life to a solitary place that didn't feel lonely. They celebrated the outcasts, people who sat on the margins of society contemplating their interiors. When adolescence got scary, I turned to books addictively: Franny And Zooey, The Magus, The Idiot — just 50 more pages and I'll call it a day; just 20 more pages and I can have dessert. Books were my cure for a romanticized unhappiness, for the anxiety of impending adulthood. They were all mine, private islands with secret passwords only the worthy could utter. If I could choose my favorite day, my favorite moment in some perfect dreamscape, I know exactly where I would be: stretched out in bed in the afternoon, knowing that the kids are taking a nap and I've got two more chapters left of some heartbreaking novel, the kind that messes you up for a week. The Flowers Of Evil By Charles Baudelaire I went to the French lycée in Los Angeles, and, like every high school student in the French school system, I studied the work of 19th-century poet Charles Baudelaire. At 15, the height of brooding and dark self-discovery, I recited his poems by heart and thrilled to the exotic language, filled with taboo ideas and strange metaphors involving death and decay. It's a must-read for any depressed adolescent. Song Of Solomon By Toni Morrison I wrote my senior essay in college on this book, specifically Morrison's relationship to the African oral-narrative tradition. My favorite passage describes a water stain on a wood table — how that stain takes on new life and meaning with the passage of time and family history. I think Morrison has the most deeply poetic voice in contemporary American fiction, and I have never missed reading anything she's written. Cathedral By Raymond Carver Carver is the king of minimalism, and these short stories are some of his leanest. He writes characters who are completely unaware of their own motivations or the significance of their actions. They just live and don't ask why. As an actress and reader, I love the discipline of spare characterizations. You soak up the few details offered and do the work to figure out the characters yourself. The Complete Greek Tragedies By Euripides When I was about 13, I became very interested in classic Greek tragedies, and I think these represent the best of them. They combine what we'd identify as modern psychology with the concept of destiny. It's impossible to forget these characters — Medea, for instance, who kills her own beloved children when faced with her husband's betrayal. These are stories of such passion. Naked By David Sedaris In this collection of autobiographical essays, humanity's wicked little details are seen through the eyes of a truly strange man. Sedaris's observations are sometimes weirdly funny and unexpectedly moving — including his trip of self-discovery to a nudist camp. I read Naked in one sitting and then bought five copies to give to friends. Letters To A Young Poet By Rainer Maria Rilke This is a collection of letters that Rilke wrote to a poet who'd asked for his advice. It's clear that Rilke wants to encourage the younger man, yet he can't help betraying his own disillusionment with the world and his feelings of insignificance. I love how humble Rilke is — how beaten down by the creative process yet hopeful. I've given this book to a few directors and wrapped each copy in a silk scarf. When I feel like a failure or have doubts about my work, this is the sacred book I take off the shelf and unwrap, very delicately. Marcadores: Oprah's Bookshelves posted by RENATO DOHO | 10:14 AMAMANDA PEET When I was young, I could always tell which books around the house belonged to my mother and which were my father's. My mom would be in the middle of The Hurried Child or The Interpretation Of Dreams. My dad would usually have a paperback thriller or a copy of Hamlet — he's obsessed with the play and can quote it start to finish. When I was having trouble deciding which books to choose for this list, I finally thought about him, and I just picked the ones I've obsessed over the most. I'm fascinated by stories that show people disengaging from various parts of their lives. Some people can do that effortlessly, while others are pushed to it out of necessity. They have to disconnect entirely from their situation to survive it. What's so interesting to me is how often denial, which starts with one small moment of removing oneself, can have colossal ramifications. Shah Of Shahs By Ryszard Kapuscinski Stephen Gaghan, who wrote the screenplay for Traffic, asked me to read this history of the Iranian Revolution of 1979 before we started filming Syriana, which he directed. It's a completely gripping book. Kapuscinski describes Mohammad Mossadegh, who was briefly premier of Iran in the 1950s, as someone who told the truth too early. He writes that the truth needs time to mature, because otherwise it's seen as heresy. There's also a beautiful passage about how the shah didn't understand that destroying a man like Mossadegh wouldn't make him cease to exist: "On the contrary… he begins to exist all the more. ... The scythe swings, and at once the grass starts to grow back. Cut again and the grass grows faster than ever." The Things They Carried By Tim O'Brien I resisted reading this incredibly evocative novel because I was afraid it was some male, gruff kind of story in which soldiers in Vietnam describe the kinds of weaponry they use, like lists of different types of grenades. But my oldest friend babbled about it constantly, so I dug in. In one of the more wrenching scenes, Tim, the narrator, befriends the ghost of a little girl. He asks her what it's like to be dead, and she says it's like being a book on a shelf that no one wants to read. It's a terrifying thought — being forgotten — and O'Brien encapsulates it so brilliantly. Play It As It Lays By Joan Didion I think this novel about a Los Angeles actress, Maria, having a meltdown in the 1960s is one of the more accessible things Joan Didion has ever written. I always think of Didion and Maria when I am in Los Angeles: the strip malls and the curly expressway on-and-off ramps, the oil rigs that look like dinosaurs and the Taco Bells. She evokes that strange alienation and sad glamour you feel coming in from the airport or driving along the city's freeways. Self-Help By Lorrie Moore I've gone back to one of the stories in this collection, "How," several times. It describes the conflict between being comfortable in a relationship and knowing deep down that this person is not your match. At times I've read the story and thought, That's how I feel. And it's helped me to see that I, too, am in denial about wanting to leave someone. What's so interesting is that the man in the story isn't vilified. He's described as having many beautiful parts, which is true about a lot of the people we love but aren't meant to be with. The Gold Cell By Sharon Olds A tutor gave me this book of narrative poems when I was in seventh grade. Even though I was young, I related to the author so much. Some lines are so moving that I think of them when I'm acting and need to convey something sad or difficult in a scene. In "Cambridge Elegy," the narrator talks about her boyfriend, Averell, who died in a car crash: "Ave, I went ahead and had the children, the life of ease and faithfulness... ... very millimeter of delight in the body, I took the road we stood on at the start together, I took it all without you as if in taking it after all I could most honor you." It's sad and hopeful at the same time — the idea that she feels having a happy life is the best way to remember her lover. The Member Of The Wedding By Carson McCullers Frankie, the main character in this gem of a novel, is envious because her older brother is getting married. I was about 13 or 14 when I first read it and hugely jealous of my older sister, who's now a doctor. She had this ease that I didn't have. She was the smart one, a great athlete, and popular. She would go play baseball, and eight guys would follow her. I just loved Frankie, because she was as eaten up with envy as I was. Marcadores: Oprah's Bookshelves posted by RENATO DOHO | 10:13 AMLAURA LINNEY When I first pick up a book, I'm just reading for the joy of it. But with a really good writer, it's exciting to go back and tear things apart. You look at the architecture of the story. You ask: "What does every character say about the other characters?" You look for clues: "Why did they behave this way? Why did they do that?" Take The City Of Your Final Destination, my new favorite book. I'm about to make a movie of it, so right now I'm studying the story in a very fine-tooth-comb sort of way. It's about a writer named Jules Gund, who wrote one spectacular novel and then died, and a PhD candidate who wants to publish a biography on him. Gund lived in Uruguay, on an estate where his widow, mistress and gay brother still reside. The student has to convince them to give him permission before he can publish his work. The novel deals with issues of family, betrayal, and disappointment; the more I go through it, the more I love it. It's a fantastic process, hunting for clue after clue after clue. You develop a whole other appreciation for the story. You can start to smell it. You can start to taste it. You Learn By Living By Eleanor Roosevelt This is basically a collection of advice Roosevelt gave to people who wrote to her after she left the White House. Some of her comments are a little out of date — it was written in 1960 — but what she writes about fear and courage apply as much to life today as when the book was published: "We do not have to become heroes overnight. Just a step at a time, meeting each thing that comes up… discovering we have the strength to stare it down." I order 15 copies at a time and dole them out to friends who are going through a rough patch. A book like this reminds you that real greatness is not something people are entitled to — it's something that's earned. Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close By Jonathan Safran Foer Foer's second novel, after Everything Is Illuminated, is about a boy whose father died on 9/11 and who has just found a strange key. He sets out to figure out where it fits and what's going on. You join him on the search, which includes finding out more about his father and about his own identity. Some of the hints you're given are visual; there are blank pages and photographs, for instance. And these page breaks and images force you to think in a different way. You find that you're on an adventure, going into a realm of thought and texture and feeling and emotion that is very specific to this boy. Your senses will be awakened. The Iliad By Homer I wasn't a big reader growing up, but something clicked with The Iliad. It's a war story told in 24 chapters of poetry. Some people are intimidated by the book's reputation, but its language cues you emotionally and intellectually. The rhythm of it helps you absorb the material — the alliteration, the onomatopoeia, the way certain words are set against each other. I remember the way daybreak is described: "Now as the Dawn flung out her golden robe across the earth." Gorgeous. Possession By A.S. Byatt This is one of those books where the first 100 pages are a little tough but then it goes like a freight train. It's a mystery, told in alternating stories: The first follows two academics who are trying to discover whether a pair of 19th-century poets had a love affair; the second is what actually happened between the poets. As the modern-day scholars look through letters and historical documents, you see how the poets' relationship affects them. The book tackles questions like "Are people really all that different from era to era? How much do we really know of what came before — even if we have letters and other remnants of the past? How do you weigh the importance of what people say with how they say it? What is art used for?" I love books that force me to move a little outside my comfort zone, and this one was deeply satisfying. The Junes By Julia Glass One of the most soulful books I've read, it's another story that deals with the passage of time — in this case, in the lives of a Scottish bookseller in New York and his father and siblings in Europe. You see the family from three perspectives; the story traces their disappointments, love, challenges, their health and their illnesses — what happens to people over a lifetime and how one generation leaves its imprint on the next. Marcadores: Oprah's Bookshelves posted by RENATO DOHO | 10:12 AMELISABETH SHUE As the only girl growing up among three brothers, I was always afraid of being excluded. If there was a game to be played, a sport to be learned, a competition to join, I was on my feet and ready. I didn't spend much time alone for fear that I'd miss out. Reading was a chore to get over with — homework to rush through. I rationalized this approach as a wonderful thing: I never had time to read because I was actively living my life, not sitting inside reading about other people's lives. It wasn't till I was a freshman in college that I slowly began to realize that I was indeed missing out, but that it was reading I was missing out on. I was on my own at Wellesley, surrounded by a lot of young women who were motivated and intellectually curious. I started to read because I was required to do so for class, but I soon found myself enjoying the seclusion of the library. I came to see reading as an important way to learn about people, including myself. I could identify with and understand fictional characters and historical figures through their choices, their life circumstances, and their pain. Today I still feel like the most illiterate person ever to have roamed the campuses of Wellesley and Harvard, where I later transferred. I remain intimidated by all the books I haven't read, but over the years I've come to realize that being a student is a lifelong adventure. I no longer worry that while I'm reading, I may be missing something more important. Letters To A Young Poet By Rainer Maria Rilke When I was 25 and working on my first Broadway play, Some Americans Abroad, my friend Bill gave me this book with the inscription: 'Descend into yourself. Search for the reason.' I was searching for my own reasons for being an actress and wanted to see myself as an artist, but it all seemed a little pretentious. This book helped me see that making art is about the search; the questions, not the answers. The book is also a tribute to generosity among artists. Rilke never talks down to the young poet. He inspires him to search inwardly and find himself through his poetry. Since I'd struggled with a fear of being alone, this book helped me to see solitude as invaluable if I was to express myself. I also just love this quote: 'Be considerate of aging people, who fear that being-alone in which you trust.' The Artist's Way By Julia Cameron Almost six years ago, before I was given the incredible opportunity to be in Leaving Las Vegas, I was going through a long period of artistic confusion. I'd spent years doing work that hadn't pushed me enough, and I was beginning to wonder if I had any talent. This book helped me recall why I loved being an actress and why I had to continue. I'd become disconnected from the childlike play that art could be. I was spending so much time fearing I wasn't good enough that I lost the sense that my artistic expression was worthy. This book is a wonderful step-by-step way to reclaim your youthful love of creating and your faith in yourself. One of the most important ideas it gave me was something called morning pages — daily stream-of-consciousness writing that allows you to purge your demons, fears, frustrations, anger, or ordinary blather, to clear your head and allow your heart and instinct to connect with your higher creative self. This book helps you remember For Whom The Bell Tolls By Ernest Hemingway At Wellesley, I was still intimidated by "important" books written by "important" writers. Once I went up to our little house in Maine to get away and be alone for a few days. I of course became lonely and decided to read a book. I went to the store and chose this one. I read and read and couldn't stop, finishing it in one day. It's written in a beautifully poetic but direct and simple way that I could instantly take in. Even though the story is about the Spanish Civil War, it's really about a man's courage to follow through with his mission and a woman's love giving him the strength to fight on. I remember feeling tense and afraid all day, as if I was in the mountains with the main character. After reading it, I no longer felt as intimidated by literature, and I appreciated the way the solitary act of reading could transport me to another world. I finally understood the companionship that books give. Robert Kennedy And His Times By Arthur M. Schlesinger Jr. I was working on the television series Call To Glory, about an Air Force family in the 1960s. I'd left Wellesley, and was glad the show prompted me to educate myself about that tumultuous period in our history. Robert Kennedy was such an inspiring figure. His interest in politics seemed to come not from a desire for power, but from a need to help our society live up to its ideals. He had always felt left out of his family's inner circle, and his feelings of insecurity drove him to connect with others who felt the same way. It was after reading this book that I decided to go back and continue my education. I felt I needed to know more about the world if I was ever going to try and follow his example. Marcadores: Oprah's Bookshelves posted by RENATO DOHO | 10:11 AMMARG HELGENBERGER About four years ago, I started a book club. I thought it would give me the opportunity to commit to a book and follow it to the end. (I'd fallen into the bad habit of starting novels but not finishing them.) Thirty people showed up the first couple of meetings. People were really excited about it, which I guess isn't that surprising. L.A. is full of storytellers, and they all love talking about good stories. As time has gone on, we've dwindled down to a core group of 10 or 12 people, which is perfect. That's large enough to keep the conversation going, and small enough to give everyone a chance to talk. In the past year or so, we've read Tom Wolfe's A Man In Full and The Hours, by Michael Cunningham. Some people in the group had also read Mrs. Dalloway, the Virginia Woolf book that inspired The Hours — that was a great night's conversation. The hardest part of the book club is choosing the next month's selection. Sometimes a book jumps out, and miraculously, we settle on a title very quickly. But usually it takes a little longer. We've learned the hard way that a book has to be somehow provocative. Otherwise, like with some of the lighter fiction we read last summer, we don't have that much to talk about. Sometimes someone will make a great pitch for a book — and their enthusiasm is contagious. (Then we go to the computer to see how many pages it is.) The beauty of our group is that there's no pressure. You just show up and talk to people about all these amazing stories. I love it! Madame Bovary By Gustave Flaubert I nominated this novel for our book club after a conversation with a friend, David Chase, the creator of The Sopranos. I asked him if he had any suggestions for us, and he said, "My favorite book is Madame Bovary." I figured if it's good enough for David Chase, it's good enough for us. We had such an intense discussion that night. Some people, especially the guys, couldn't stand Emma Bovary. They thought she was despicable; I think she's completely compelling. She's unbelievably ambitious with absolutely no outlet for her pent-up frustration. And then there's the guy who writes the Dear John letter, dripping water on it to make it seem as if he'd been crying. These people are so wicked, but in the end, so human. The Poisonwood Bible By Barbara Kingsolver This was another book club selection, and I thought it was an incredibly satisfying novel. It touched on all of life's important issues — politics, race, death, religion, the differences between men and women. It also makes you question whether it's okay to impose your ideas on other people, even if it's for their supposed good. The father of this family — a Christian missionary — was so driven by his zeal to spread the word of God that he could see no other point of view. Ultimately, he goes mad — unable to help even himself. All Quiet On The Western Front By Erich Maria Remarque This was the first book that really shook me up. I grew up in a very small rural community, and I think I read it when I was in seventh grade. Set in the trenches of World War I, it shows war in all its tragic gruesomeness — and the bonds a group of young men make in the middle of horrific battles. Notes From Underground By Fyodor Dostoevsky Academics were never my strong point. But after I transferred from the University of Nebraska at Kearney to Northwestern, I buckled down, and one of the courses I took was on the works of Dostoevsky. We read Crime And Punishment, The Brothers Karamazov and Notes From Underground. I was struck by the depth of each of his characters - maybe because I had decided to become an actor. They are so unbelievably rich and complex — you pity them, you loathe them, you feel for them. And the first line of Notes is an absolute classic: "I am a sick man... I am a spiteful man." Such a great way to start an exploration of the dark side of the human condition. The Grapes Of Wrath By John Steinbeck I get tears just thinking about this book. It starts out in Oklahoma; I'm from Nebraska. People suffer, leave their roots, and undergo extreme hardships. It's the story of so many families from the Dust Bowl. Steinbeck makes such a statement about society, kindness and tolerance during times of great hardship. I love the scene where the Joad family is on their way to California. They have next to nothing themselves, but they offer food and money to two travelers who are utterly destitute. The idea of extending comfort to those you know and those you don't resonates with me still. The Liars' Club By Mary Karr Karr is the Lucinda Williams of contemporary writers: poetic, soulful, country, street, passionate. Her mother read a lot and her father was a blue-collar, hard-working man. He and his buddies made up the Liars' Club, a group that hung out at the American Legion or in the back room of Fisher's Bait Shop. Karr's dedication to her parents is beautiful: "For Charlie Marie Moore Karr and J.P. Karr, who taught me to love books and stories, respectively." Some people find it impossible to forgive or understand their parents. Despite Karr's difficult childhood, you can tell from this memoir that she loved her parents dearly — and she has come up with a loving tribute to them. Marcadores: Oprah's Bookshelves posted by RENATO DOHO | 10:10 AM |
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