Do this at your own peril

I'm developing a theory about re-reading books you REALLY loved at a certain time in your life. I can condense it into one word. DON'T.

Okay. Maybe that's a little too dogmatic. But I have to say that whenever I re-read a book that I really, really connected with a long time ago, I'm invariably disappointed with it now, not counting THE SCARLET LETTER. Except I actually didn't like it the first time I read it (when I was seventeen). I had to grow up (and acquire better reading skills) to appreciate that one. So never mind.

I just re-read WISE BLOOD by Flannery O'Connor, which I read for the first and only time when I was back in grad school with Lisa B. I was CRAZY for Flanners then. CRAZY. All I can say is . . . I wish I hadn't re-read WISE BLOOD. On the other hand, O'C's letters are truly delightful. And "Revelation" remains one of my favorite short stories in the history of the universe. If you ever take a literature class from me one day, I. Will. Make. You. Read. It. And I will force you to be happy that you did.

I'd be interested in hearing about a book you loved and why. Give me the title and your age (then, not now--unless you want to tell me how old you are today) and I will tell you not to re-read it, although I'll leave that up to you.

In other news. I've been crying all day. And the only reason I can give is that it's raining. So right now I want to personally thank all my English, Scottish and Welsh ancestors for getting their rears on a ship and making a big fat beeline for the New World, so I didn't have to grow up in this weather.

Perhaps a cupcake will help.