Books that Matter

I am often asked about the books that matter to me. So here are a few of the ones that changed my life and inspire me still:

Mary Poppins by P.L. Travers. In 1964, Mary Poppins turned into a Hollywood cream puff so that the name conjures up a pretty girl who charms and pacifies everyone. But Mary Poppins in the book series was a witch with a magic satchel and knowledge of secret doorways into the many enchanted places hidden in plain sight throughout London. (Sound familiar?) There were newborn babies who conversed with the wind, sunbeams, and birds and an ancient candy-store owner whose self-regenerating fingers are made of barley sugar. But Mary Poppins herself is the best magic and role model of all: of all a well-traveled free spirit with unshakable self-esteem, I didn’t want Mary Poppins to be my nanny. I wanted to be her when I grew up.

The Sabbath by Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel. This slim, poetic volume of practical theology opened my heart to the practice of Judaism. Nearly 20 years ago, my then-fiancé and I read it aloud to each other, a few pages every Friday night, as we started to experiment with our own Friday night rituals -- lighting candles, pouring a cup of wine, breaking bread, singing blessings. Heschel explains the Sabbath as the source and crux of Jewish spirituality: “Every hour is unique and the only one given at the moment, exclusive and endlessly precious. Judaism teaches us … to learn how to consecrate sanctuaries that emerge from the magnificent stream of a year.”

Song of Myself by Walt Whitman. This long poem is a heart-opening list of things Whitman loved: himself, humanity, America, music, animals, rivers, city life, work, sex, God, freedom, even the grass beneath his feet, which he describes variously as “the flag of my disposition, the handkerchief of the Lord, the beautiful uncut hair of graves.” An American treasure.

The Art of Eating by M.F.K. Fisher. Mary Frances Kennedy Fisher is my prose guru. Many of her 26 books dealt with the pleasures of the table. Responding to questions about why her subject was food rather than loftier topics, Fisher wrote, “It seems to me that our three basic needs, for food and security and love, are so mixed and mingled and entwined that we cannot straightly think of one without the others.” I should only write so well, eat so well, and live so well.