Book: Man Walks Into A Room

The very last thing my sister wanted to do during her 9 days with me in Italy was.... buy the new Harry Potter book. She knew if she waited until the last minute then she wouldn't be tempted to start reading it until she got on the plane to come home. Which is exactly what she did. She finished it before the turbo jet wheels touched the ground.

I was a little envious of her voracious desire to read (sorry, inside joke) and I wanted to feel that way about a BOOK too. For the last three weeks I had been devouring the sights and sounds of this tremendous country and my mind was working at a 100 mph. The last thing I was able to do was sit quietly and look at words. But here I was at the end of the trip, and I thought, maybe I can finally concentrate on something.

So I went to a bookstore and scanned the shelves for a long time. The English section was just a few shelves, but the collection was so random I could hardly call it lacking. Everything from Shakespeare to Candace Bushwell, on just a shelf or two.

I finally chose a book called MAN WALKS INTO A ROOM, by Nicole Krauss. She also wrote THE HISTORY OF LOVE, which I've already posted about with great affection. So here was her second book, which is actually her first book, but published before we knew who she was. So chances are, as it happened with me, you would discover it second. And I need to say, THIS is the book she should have gotten famous for.

It's a short book and I stretched it out as long as I could. I read it under the gazing eyes of the statues in Piazza Signoria. I read it until 3am in my studio apartment. I read it in cafes near the Duomo.

This book was.... goodness, someone give me an adjective other than AMAZING, please. Because it was AMAZING.

After roaming through the streets of Florence for a month, I told my sister that my new greatest wish was to have the ability to time travel. You just get this sense of history in this city like no other place I've ever seen. You can feel the ghosts of a million yesterdays walking through the streets even though the city hustles and grooves with the sounds of tourists and mopeds. And yet all around, time is frozen in the soft smiles of saints and angels holding their posts on top of towering podiums and church facades. I thought about time travel constantly. It's also the theme of my other favorite book, which I've also written about.

This book is not about time travel. But close. It's about memory loss. A man looses his memory at the age of 36, and all he can recall is his life until the age of 12. This greatly affects his wife, his employer, his friends. The story follows him as he tries to unravel everything he's supposed to remember, love, and identify with, simply because everyone tells him he once did. It's riveting, powerful.

It was the perfect book to read during a trip while far, far away from home. When you travel, all your habits are left behind. It's interesting to see how quickly we aspire to find new ones, or which ones managed to slip themselves into our suitcases for the trip across the sea. It's interesting to realize there are habits you didn't even know you had, but you suddenly miss. Like, the first ten things you do when you get up in the morning. Or the path you take through your house right before you go to bed. Suddenly all those things are gone, just like the faces of family members you tearfully said goodbye to before you got on the plane. Just like the clothes you left in your closet, and the music that didn't fit on your mp3 player, and the way your neighbor slams the front door downstairs.

This book made me think about all those things, about saying goodbye and hello to things that mattered or not. About relearning your steps into bed, and finding a new pattern for yourself in the morning.

How many things do we do each day that give us comfort in their repitition? Who would you be if you suddenly forgot who you are? And if everyone around you knew what your life was like for the past 15 years, except for you, what memories would you ask them to retell you? And would questions would you decide not to ask? How much of your life would you chose to reshape based on what you were told you did, and how willing would you be to reclaim nothing at all? And would the things that would not be reclaimed, or could not be remembered, be missed?

One night we were at a party in Florence. It was wonderful, and fun and the room was filled with artists and wine. The night weather was perfect and blew through our dresses and our glasses were never empty. And then I realized, that where I was, was exactly where I would have chosen to be had I known what I was choosing. I was at this party due to a series of choices I had made regarding people I wanted to get to know, activities I took part in, places I visited. All choices, unknowingly, led to this night. As the entire life I lived before this night swept away behind me, here I was again. Surrounded by smiles I seemed to have known all my life, but could not recognize.

"That's just it!" shouted Ray. "How to be alone, to remain free, but not feel longing, not to feel imprisoned in oneself. That is what interests me."