Friday, June 27, 2014

Moving Books(es): Andi from Estella's Revenge


Welcome to my new temporary feature, Moving Books(es)!  

While I am in the midst of moving boxes from one state to another, I have a handful of fabulous fellow bloggers stopping by to share their moving books(es) ... books that they feel have moved them in one way or another.  I am excited to introduce my first fellow blogger, Andi of Estella's Revenge.  She is here today to talk about one specific book that she shared on her own blog back in 2011.  Read on to find out a book that has moved her!

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One of the most buzzed-about books about books to come along in a good while is Nina Sankovitch's memoir, Tolstoy and the Purple Chair: My Year of Magical Reading. Three years after the death of her sister, Anne-Marie, Sankovitch decides to read one book every single day in order to slow down her life and deal with her grief instead of running from it. 

Grief is a complicated thing. When I picked up Tolstoy and the Purple Chair it was for the pure rush of excitement of picking up a book about books. However, the grief component in this book came into focus for me when I found out that a good friend of mine from my undergraduate days had passed away. While we hadn't been in close contact in a good while, I still enjoyed keeping up with him on Facebook, the occasional exchange of a funny comment or a "How's life?" Even though we were removed from each other by miles and hectic lives, some little part of me was crushed to lose such a wonderful and influential friend. On top of that, he died a good while back, and I was just finding out. How the hell did I not KNOW?! For that, I am regretful. 

When I was 18 and a freshman in college, I moved out of my mom's house and lived on the campus of Baylor University in a dorm with 600 freshman girls (ack!).  I grew up in a small town of 1,200 in northeast Texas. I graduated with a class of 52. Baylor is made up of roughly 15,000 students and was slightly overwhelming. 

On the whole, Baylor is a "privileged" environment. Lots of rich kids and upper-class families (celebrities' kids, a prince even). I was one of the students who came from a single-parent home and depended on scholarships and work-study to get through. I started my on-campus job as a Student Technology Specialist on my third day there, and Mike was the first person I met. The group of students with whom I shared the campus computer labs would become like a family to me for my two years at Baylor. Mike was one of my favorite people. At a Baptist college, and having led a small town existence to that point, I was not expecting the first friend I made to be an openly gay atheist with 10 piercings.

But my God, he was so special. He was outgoing, more than a little hyper, funny, and one of the smartest people I've ever met to this very day. He never met a stranger, he could learn a new language in six weeks flat, and he was always a character. He accompanied me to my freshman formal dance where we scandalized the crowd with our dancing, and when I got my first apartment he showed up to christen the place with a box of wine. I woke up in tears in the middle of the night because I couldn't believe he was gone and I didn't know.

Reading this book, I had the grief part covered. Of all the things Nina Sankovitch writes in her book -- and there are a great many wonderful things -- what I relate to most is the multi-faceted need she feels for books. She's looking for inspiration, insight, comfort, motivation, empathy. She's looking for authors she can relate to, who feel the same things, express them in ways she cannot. That's what made this book so moving.

Books allow me comfort and heightened insight, heightened experience. While I hadn't expected my own grief to sneak into my reading of this book, it most certainly did. While Mike and I did not have a bookish connection, we had a beautiful, fun, spirited friendship and this book allowed me to share some of the insight and solace Sankovitch experienced during her year of reading. Throughout my life, in the throes of personal tragedies and losses, I too turn to books with a deep need for some enlightenment. It was not at all painful to read Tolstoy and the Purple Chair but quite cathartic.

If you have an opportunity to try this book, I would wholeheartedly recommend it. For those who may be turned off by the subject of grief, I would still give it a go. There are a great many things to enjoy in this thoughtful examination of the reading life and the healing power therein.



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Thank you so much Andi for sharing your story.  I also tend to seek out books when I am dealing with personal tragedies and loss.  I will be adding this very book to my list.  

16 comments:

  1. This book sounds truly special since it affected you emotionally like that.

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    1. It definitely was, and I was surprised just how much! I think it's one I'll re-read one day too.

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  2. I too seek out books to bring me comfort and to help me find the words that I can not find sometimes. Ten years ago I suffered a grief so devastating to me that I could not read for about a year. Not only was I crushed by the grief, but my go to comfort (reading) was not an option. This was confusing and disturbing. I had no idea that grief could do that. Fortunately, reading came back to me and I did indeed find comfort and words to help describe that grief. I've since found out that this loss of reading during times of intense grief is not uncommon. Whew! Anyway, sounds like now I should read this book:)

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    1. Wow, Terri. I can't even imagine. That would be very scary to be handling incredible grief and unable to escape or find comfort in books. It sounds like a very tough time, but I'm glad your reading came back to you. <3

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  3. What a great post, and Mike sounds like he was an awesome, special person. I've had this book on my radar for a while, but it sounds like I really need to hunt down a copy! I love that you note reading it wasn't painful, but cathartic -- so good to know.

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  4. Thank you, Meg! He was really wonderful, and so was this book. I hope you enjoy it if you get around to it!

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    1. I graduated so soon after you both started that I never got to know him like you did, but I remember feeling the same way when I found out he was gone.

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  5. Oh, dear, now I absolutely must read this book. Fortunately, I did buy a copy when Borders was going out of business [sniff]. Unfortunately, I *still* have not unpacked all the books. Must work on library, this weekend. Wonderful post, Andi!

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    1. Just a heads up, Nancy! I believe her sister did have cancer. I know you're usually not a fan of those. This one might help or it might hurt.

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  6. I can see how this book could be made extra special by sharing the emotions and the process of grief. I found the book touching and enjoyed her sharing of the her love for her sister through books.

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    1. Me too, Care. And can you imagine reading a book per day? Devotion!

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  7. I've been wondering if you should read this book, I have an answer now. I love books about books, I should of known ;)

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  8. I've been wanting to read this one for a long while. After losing my Mom certain books that deal with grief can be hard to read, but they also provide a window into the grief of others, which helps you not feel so alone.

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  9. I somehow missed that this was a book about more than just books. I love the way that it spoke to you and helped you through your own grieving time. I am one of those readers who tend to shy away from books about grief but I am going to try this one!

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  10. Thank you so much Andi! I truly appreciate you stopping by to share your personal story and moving recommendation with me and all my readers. I have already added this one to my list.

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  11. Beautiful post and tribute to your friend, Andi. Losing someone is always so damned hard, but not learning of his death for a long time must have been so much more difficult. :(

    This sounds like a good book and which slipped under my radar. I didn't realize it dealt with grief, so I'll have to give it a look. I wouldn't say I love books that focus on death, but I do tend to gravitate toward them, always seeking consolation and understanding of my own emotions. Thanks for the recommendation!

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