Flagstaff has beautiful mornings and evenings, and what better thing to spend them with than a good book. In reality, more than books get my attention, and rightfully so. But here are some I’ve read this month:
Sh*t My Dad Says by Justin Halpern was one of the wisest and funniest books I’ve read in a long time. Wisdom and humor is a rare combination, which is why I don’t often read—oh, well, it’s better left unsaid. Be prepared for a healthy dose of obscenities; in this case perhaps the term filler would be more appropriate, because these words are not used in a derogatory or obscene manner. This book made the NY Times Bestseller List when it was released on Father’s Day of this year. It’s now #9 on Amazon.com. Do read it, I promise you’ll love it.
Mennonite in a Little Black Dress by Rhoda Janzen. Yes, it’s a girly book, but I was intrigued and entertained for the three hours it took to read this one. The writer’s focal point of the book is her journey into academia rather than the stereotypical family girl. Her husband leaves her for a guy on Gay.com; this tidbit is overplayed throughout the book but is acceptable given the candor the author gains from the experience. Mennonites normally write books that are overly introspective, poorly edited, and fail to appeal to a broad audience (over-generalization) but this book breaks free of these constraints as evidenced by being near the top of Amazon’s bestseller list for the past few months. Janzen succeeds at writing a book even those unfamiliar with Mennonites will understand and enjoy.
Born to Run: A Hidden Tribe, Superathletes, and the Greatest Race the World Has Never Seen by Christopher McDougall. Many, many books have been written about the supposed magic of running, and many, many of them all read the same. I should know because I fall for these books frequently. When I’m done, the reality is still there: running is painful, it’s hard, and sometimes it’s not even enjoyable. It’s demeaning—some days I feel like a brutish ogre clumping through the woods, all the while trying desperately to imagine myself into a butterfly who can effortlessly flit along. Butterflies are always happy and full of energy, which is why I pretend I’m a butterfly. In this way, McDougall’s book is a failure: Reading a book does not make a person a runner—never has, never will, and that’s a realist perspective on the matter. Knowledge is good, but wisdom is better than wealth—as McDougall states in this quote:
There are two goddesses in your heart: the Goddess of Wealth and the Goddess of Wisdom. Everyone thinks they need to get wealth first, and wisdom will come. So they concern themselves with chasing money. But they have it backwards. You have to give your heart to the Goddess of Wisdom, give her all your love and attention, and the Goddess of Wealth will become jealous and follow you.
So is this book about running? Not as much as it is about loving life, and having love in everything you do. Sounds all flowery and hippy-ish, but it really is that simple. Sure, the book is about racing, but it’s also about what money does to people, sports, and lives. Democracy—right, I won’t go there, either. Good book, though.