Exciting stuff, right? The past several days have been all about lying flat on my back recuperating. Ah well, it's gloomy outside anyway and I have a stack of books that have been keeping me busy in my waking hours. Though I will admit that the prospect of cable tv and Vietnamese take-out around the corner suddenly seems very attractive!
First I read the memorably titled Foreskin's Lament, which I'd been dying to get my hands on ever since I heard some of the chapters read by the author on This American Life. I was glad to have heard Shalom Auslander's mesmerizing, deadpan voice before ever having picked up his memoir--it stayed with me through the whole funny, sad, moving, irreverent book. I was sorry it ended and I'm very much looking forward to devouring more of Auslander's writing. Now, I've turned my attention to one of my favorite topics since moving to the boonies myself, Urbanites Moving to the Country. I've been immersed in this little subgenre for the past year, getting motivation and inspiration from Animal, Vegetable, Miracle, and laughs from Fifty Acres and a Poodle. Then there was the enchanting mix of mournfulness, contentment, and beauty in A Country Year, the story of an academic librarian turned Ozarks beekeeper, which I picked up serendipitously and barely put down until the last page was turned.
Now, I've got my nose in The Unlikely Lavender Queen about a high-flying, NYC magazine journalist who eventually lands in Texas as a lavender farmer. And, at long last, Helen and Scott Nearing's practical, radical, pioneering The Good Life about their many decades of self-sufficient living in New England. I've been fascinated by the Nearings for a long while and have looked at many photos of their work and read all about them without actually reading their core works until now.
Two fantastic cookbooks (thank you to the dear friends who gave them to me!) have kept my sickbed appetite healthy. Moro East was inspired by renowned cooking duo Sam and Sam Clark's community garden experience. They transport you into the wonderful world of the East Mediterranean by way of a spot of land in East London. It's very close to my home patch in London, and flipping through the pages has brought back many sweet memories (incidentally, I recently listened to a moving NPR podcast about the demise of that very same garden). The cookbook I've been using the most since it emerged from my friend's suitcase in July is Ottolenghi The Cookbook. How can I not adore with a book that has a chapter entitled Mighty Aubergine? And the eggplant soup I've fallen in love with isn't even in that chapter. Oh, the angels sing.
I've also been watching a lot of Ray Mears, the British outdoor survival and bushcraft specialist. Ray Mears foraging for food in Australia and Britain, Ray Mears lost at sea, Ray Mears in the desert, Ray Mears in the arctic. His programs aren't flashy like some other survival series, but they're very informative and his kindly, unpretentious character is so refreshing. I'd already read his Outdoor Survival Handbook, another beloved gift, in which Mears builds extraordinary shelters, baskets, garments and pots with found, natural materials, and also feeds himself pretty darn well, treats wounds, transports fire, tracks animals, and tells stories. It's hard not to love Ray Mears.
So, ahem, yes, I've been doing lots of reading. But hopefully I'll be back in action soon and able to report on more than just the movement of my eyes.
