"Instant French"

Across from me is a bookshelf jammed so thoroughly with books that many have been placed horizontally in the spaces remaining above the vertical books.


One of these books is entitled Instant French. Wouldn't that be nice? Instant French. Open the book. Bam! Croissant. Read the first chapter. Zhoom! Snotty accent. Close the book. Voilà! Eiffel Tower!


Another book is called Macrobiotic Cooking for Everyone. What it really ought to be called is Macrobiotic Cooking for Everyone Who Loves Rice and is Willing to Part with Flavor.


Another book is an amazing interactive guide to birds—Western North American ones—and their habitats. it would be easy to make fun of this book, but I absolutely adore it. It comes with an electronic guide that you can press through and listen to bird calls by corresponding numbers. I bought it for my mom, who has been getting into identifying birds ever since she started leading tours at the local estuary. I am thinking about keeping it for myself, even though I have practically no knowledge of birds nor a reason to learn about their habitats. I just really like the interactive feature.


Another book on the shelf isn't really even a book at all. it's a pile of cards—not just one deck, but three. And not just playing cards, either. The first deck is a collection of yoga poses that you can do "on the go." I never use it, although I do enjoy the occasional yoga class. The next deck is, in fact, playing cards, a special Communist China edition that I bought in Chinatown with my ex-girlfriend's ex-girlfriend, who was visiting us for a week from back East. My ex-girlfriend wasn't even with us when we went to Chinatown. I bought the cards so that my ex's ex would feel comfortable purchasing something, but she never ended up getting anything, either way. The cards still have the plastic seal on. I already have too many playing cards. The final deck below the other two is a deck of Tarot cards. I've heard these were an invention of the 1930s, but I still can't help but feel a little mystified by the medieval imagery. I'm not even quite sure how you use Tarot cards. Whenever I "use" them, which is not too often, believe it or not, I just turn them over in response to a question. An example might be: "Will I pass this test?" If I turn over the Hanged Man, I might reasonably assume the answer is "No." One might also infer that the test will be fatal. It's hard to say, but the ambiguity is delightful. No one was ever mystified this way by the Magic 8 Ball.


Another horizontal book is Careers for Gastronomes and Others who Relish Food. At the time I purchased the book, which was probably around 2003, the advice it offered felt like real insider information. Now it all seems very obvious and slightly boring.


Another book is the Treehorn Trilogy, a very thick illustrated book for over-educated children. It was given to me by my ex-boyfriend. He once told me he had read it numerous times. I still haven't managed to get all the way through it. The book resting on top of this children's book is a sex-themed graphic art book called Grafuck. Get it? I've managed to get through that one numerous times.


The rest of the bookshelf is what you'd expect: a travel clock that hasn't been adjusted to reflect Daylight Savings Time; a picture or two of my sister and me at different stages in our lives; a very broken acoustic guitar; a pair of electronic stuffed-animal bunnies (the kind that walk with great difficulty and then do an epic back flip); an origami crane made out of magazine paper; my college diploma holder without the diploma; a Nantucket wicker basket with my dearly departed grandmother's name burned into the bottom. Oh yeah, and a few other random books.

-LM