What’s better, the book or the reviews? – part 2

I love Adam Gopnik. I admit it. I mean, I never met Adam Gopnik and I haven’t read a fraction of what he has written (oh, but I read Paris to the Moon, isn’t that enough?), but the things that have come my way have been wonderful. Please do not tell me that he is some kind of a megalomaniac or worse, a despicable human being who has some nasty habit or other, because that would burst my bubble.

When Gopnik writes, I listen. When his articles appear in the New Yorker, I read them BEFORE I get to the cartoons. If he would come on a book tour to Madison I would be one of those fawning idiots that arrives two hours early just to get a seat. [Of course, in reality he would never come to Madison; he is probably one of those east coast snots that believes Madison to be in Alabama, or at the very least Arkansas. No way would his precious New York – Paris foot step in the “dairy state.” I’m guessing now, I know nothing on this at all, just speculating..]

Okay, so why all this Gopnik adoration now? His article in this week’s New Yorker reviewed two recent books on the life of Leonardo da Vinci. It was a wonderful review (of course; I’m biased, I already admitted it). So much so that the magnetic forces, way beyond my control, drew me to Borders late, late this evening, and I picked out the text on da Vinci that sounded absolutely sublime (the one by Nicholl). I stood waiting for the cashier, thumbing through the beautiful pages, pleased and happy… Until I cracked open the other book that I was holding ( Hornby’s “The Polysyllabic Spree”). Hornby is funny. Hornby can often be downright hilarious. In this particular little volume, Hornby wrote about all the books that he had bought and never read. Camic took Hornby to heart.

I thought of a new rule: if it is likely that within the next week I will not read more than at least 100 pages, I will not buy it. I left Borders richer in cash, poorer in spirit.

Blast these reviews! They are worse than commercials for Miss Debby cupcakes.