I’m not reading this book; I probably won’t bother with Best American Essays 2006 until it’s out in paperback this fall. But courtesy of my local public library (MPL?), I’m reading through the set of BAE from the first volume–1987–forward, up to 2001, which will then mean I have read the entire series.
This is quite possibly the best summer reading I’ve ever done. I’m up to 1991, cherry-picking my way through essays by Jonathan Franzen and Gretel Ehrlich and Margaret Atwood and Amy Tan and Frank Conroy and on and on and on… with editors such as Joyce Carol Oates to opine about the essay in elegantly grand turns of phrase. “There are no second-rate genres, only second-rate practioners”–indeed.
These collections are such perfect books. They start with a brief foreword by Robert Atwan, the series editor, and are then followed by the editor’s introduction, which always teaches me something new. Should I ever run out of essays to read, the back of every BAE offers a list of “notable essays” with their sources; should I forget Stephen Jay Gould’s background, it’s right there in his biographical note. And every essay tells me where the piece was first published, not only establishing its provenance but making me want to drive to Kepler’s and pick up a copy of Kenyon Review or Harper’s–stat!
Because these hardcover books are not purse-sized, I am dutifully dragging around A River Runs Through It, which, I have been advised, is great lit. (I took Z.Z. Packer’s stories to ALA and devoured them on the plane; I’ll review after a re-reading, which they richly deserve.) But I bring my current BAE to the gym every day, and am always surprised and even a little disappointed when the treadmill slows down, signalling the end of another half-hour of wheeling and diving through great writing.
The series is, I hope, more accurately entitled “Best American _Published_ Essays”, since Atwood has not yet relinquished her Canadian citizenship.
There’s nothing like the United States to get up the nationalist tendencies of even their best of friends.
I thought A River Runs Through It was one of the most gorgeous books I have ever read. Since I read books for review and books I teach and books for fun and books for professional reasons (as do we all) it always impresses me that some books stick in the memory so clearly. This is one.
I have finally figured out how to syndicate your blog into LiveJournal, so I am happy to read you regularly at last. Happy Fourth!
Well, I’ll finish it because it’s considered heretical not to like A River Runs Through It, but I feel the way I do when I get around eating something I have been told is Delicious and find I’m a little scared to admit I’m not enjoying all that much. It is Great Literature, I tell myself. Great Literature. Great Literature, I repeat! (As I sneak in another essay from the 1991 BAE and then re-read Calvin Trillin’s portrait of his wife, Alice…)
But if we didn’t have druthers, who would read all the books? There are far too many for any one person to get through in a lifetime…
Great hearing from you, GraceAnne… I miss your voice in my life!
Just two nights ago a Canadian asked me if I knew of Margaret Atwood, “the Canadian author?” So I appreciate the distinction, djfiander. On the other hand, Atwood’s essay in the 1991 BAE (“The Female Body”) was originally published in the U.S., in the Michigan Quarterly Review. The requirement is for an essay “originally written in English (or translated by the author) for first appearance in an American periodical during the calendar year”–though Atwan then notes BAE made an exception for Granta, so go figure.
I LOVED the Joyce Carol Oates quote. As for A River Runs Through It, I never could get into that one, but I’m not sure I gave it a fair shot. Have been meaning to try it again. Hope you like it.