You were made to be a learner.
Book Girl was a joyous, head-nodding, affirming, geek-inducing read. As she wrote about the books that formed her, memories cascaded over me: where I read My Name Is Asher Lev, the grief I wore like a sweater while reading Cry, the Beloved Country, or the mountain curve that accompanied Sissy Spacek's narration of To Kill a Mockingbird.
We both have been nourished by a glorious alphabet of authors: Austen, Berry, Cather, Dickens, Eliot, Fitzgerald, Goudge, Hugo, Ishiguro, J.R.R. Tolkien, Keller, C.S. Lewis, Marilynne, Nesbit, O'Brien, Gene Stratton Porter...
If our interests were identical, comparing lists could become a listless bore. Sarah's theology recommendations reflect her Anglican faith and Oxford training, referencing many authors I don't know. My own book-about-books would suggest more gems on history, travel, music, gardening, and food.
Geek-inducing? For sheer pleasure, I counted the books and poems Sarah mentioned directly in book lists or indirectly in epigraphs and such [389]. Unscientific, I counted series, chronicles, and sagas as one. I tallied which titles I had read [207]; the number of books Sarah recommended which occupy my shelves, as yet unread [23]; and the titles that were already on my TBR (to be read) list on Goodreads or my Wish List at Paperbackswap before I read this book [21]. Kindred, much?
Whenever I read a book by a living author, I keep in the back of my mind The Dinner Question. I ask myself, "Would I want to have [author's name] to my house one evening for dinner and conversation?" This doesn't at all mean 'do we agree on most things?' Could I imagine asking her more about herself or could I envision discussing the book in greater depth? The Dinner Answer is an unqualified Yes! I'm afraid if that happened, our husbands would be reduced to silence while we interrupted each other with wild exclamations of wonder and delight.