MY HERO!

Blog number 201                                                             02 August 2008
Years ago, when I was a freshman in High School, I ran across the novel, "Penrod" by Booth Tarkington in the school library.  I loved it.  I then found "Penrod and Sam," and Penrod Jasber," all thee excellent books except for the last chapter in either "Penrod and Sam" or "Penrod Jasber," I don't remember which.

When I was a senior in another High School, I found "Seventeen," and before I got a chance to read it, my English teacher saw it and told me it wasn't any good.  I read it anyhow (what does an English teacher know, right?), and I found it terrible.  That book ended my reading of Booth.  I thought his Penrod series a fluke, but that he was actually a bad novelist.

Then a few weeks ago I found a book called, "Rare and Used."  This book was about old books, and in it some of Booth's other books were mentioned, along with a short synopsis of some of them, and the fact that two of them won a Pulitzer Prize and not only that, but he and Upton Sinclair were thought to be the foremost American authors at the time.  Both have now gone out of favor.  "Hmmmmm," I thought.

My caretaker, Teresa order a bunch of Booth's books for me on the Internet and I've been reading them ever since.  One thing I noticed early on was that every time I started a new one, several pages in, I thought, "This is his best one yet."  Except for the Penrod books, of course.

This morning, in Starbucks, I was reading "Kate Fennigate" and Teresa began reading, "The Flirt."  Three pages in, she put it down and said, "Too much detail." 

Now, I had been ruminating just what it was that I loved so much about Booth's books, and this made me realize it was exactly the same thing that Teresa found so off-putting.  I started reading what she had just read, and I found that I could visualize Booth's description of what the man walking down the street was seeing.  To me it was akin to watching the beginning of a movie as the credits rolled.  I love his descriptions.  Especially when he is describing a person's thoughts.

I had noticed that I would read a few pages and then I would have to stop and ruminate over them.  It's not so much I am thinking about what he says - although there is that, especially when he says something rather clever or humorous.  It is more like when you are eating a delicious steak and you have to stop and take a bite of mashed potatoes or candied yams.  I wish I could think of a better simile but I can't.  But it is somewhat like that.  It's just too much and I have to stop and rest.  There!  That's it.

It will be a sad day when I have read all of his books.