Confessions of a Book Foister

My friend Chaia just returned my (spare) copy of Frances Hodgson Burnett's A Little Princess. She said she LOVED it, that she stayed up into the wee hours finishing it.
I'm glowing with gratification. Now I know someone else who has journeyed to Miss Minchin's cruel school, someone else who has rooted for young Sarah Crewe and rejoiced at her courage and happy ending.

Part of my world is now living in the heart of a friend, and we have an extra bond, an extra bridge between our souls.

Books can be bridges.
Books can be maps of alternate worlds. Anyone who has read the Narnia chronicles shares its mental map with me.
Books can be a shorthand, condensing pages of thought into the mention of a title. I don't know how many times I have said "Alice Through the Looking Glass"! when I want a brief way to express getting what you want by doing the opposite of what should get you there. If you've read the book, you get it.

I am thankful my friends do not cross the street when they see me coming with a book under my arm. They know and tolerate my enthusiasms, probably relieved I don’t sell life insurance or used cars. Show up for dinner at my house, and you're likely to go home with some book we talked about, pressed upon you with great enthusiasm. I do this a lot. For the sake of brevity, I'll limit this post to books I actually buy, every time I see them (I'm also a serial thrift-store shopper) with the sole intent of foisting them on the next person I meet.
 
Here's a partial list of books I have foisted, and why:

• A Little Princess, Frances Hodgson Burnett. See above.

• A Girl Named Zippy, by Haven Kimmel. The best memoir I have ever read. Beloved for the deft path Kimmel threads through the miraculous, the odd, the trashy and the sublime events of her childhood in metropolitan Mooreland, Indiana. (Population 375, approx.) Astonishing for how much she makes of scanty material, and for her sideways brand of humor - my favorite kind. For instance, she writes of a neighbor much given to needlework: "...she probably crocheted her major kitchen appliances out of steel wool." I foist this one on anyone aching to tell their own story but daunted by the task. It's a primer I have foisted many times.

• Speaking of primers, I used to foist Warriner's English Grammar, for the delight of its examples (of a dangling participle: "I found a wallet walking in the hall") and for clear-eyed explanations of sentence diagramming. I used to stay up in bed, diagramming sentences for fun. Current friends can be thankful they've missed this stage of my life.

• John Eldredge books, especially The Journey of Desire. A quarter of a century ago, this book restored my ability to appreciate beauty and creativity. I foist Eldredge on anyone who has their foot caught in a religious tentacle, and I reread him when my own foot is so entangled.

• Dog Heaven, a children’s book written and illustrated by Cynthia Rylant. The ultimate gift when someone's dog dies. I've read it a hundred times, and still can't get through it dry-eyed.

• The Daughter of Time, by Josephine Tey. Anyone who knows me is sick of hearing about this one, and indeed, I have sometimes foisted it in error. For instance, on my friend Gloria, who loves luscious settings - and this book is set in a stark 1950s British hospital room. On my friend Katie, who loves Agatha Christie puzzles - and this one concerns a five-hundred year-old murder with no hope of justice at the end. What was I thinking? Just that this book (my essay on it, here) changed my entire concept of history, and inspired my own book, The Piglys and the Hundred-Year Mystery. I have had one successful foist: my friend Dr. Fair loved it, and was inspired to foist a favorite of hers on me in return.

• The Wind in the Willows, Kenneth Grahame. Mr. Cain, my fourth grade teacher, foisted this one on me. The characters' relationships became a template for how I hope to be a friend. For Christmas, I used to ask my sons for 45 minutes of their time so I could read them the Christmas chapter ("Dolce Domum"), which always makes me cry.
  

• Watership Down, Richard Adams. Adult life lessons from talking rabbits. Whimsy and wisdom, prophesy and purpose. I've foisted it on my younger son, but my family members have become immune to my foistings out of sheer self-defense.
  

• Four Arguments for the Elimination of Television - Jerry Mander, 1978. This offbeat diatribe set the stage for me beginning to think for myself. I foist it on free-thinkers, bless our hearts.

• Pilgrim at Tinker Creek, Annie Dillard. The first book I foisted on Marvin, to whom I am now married. Draw your own conclusions.

• What Should I Do with My Life?, Po Bronson. A good foist for anyone who has come to one of life's many, many, crossroads, and an excellent example of good non-fiction story-telling.
  

• Mere Christianity, C.S. Lewis. A wonderful read, although such a foist can come across as proselytizing. I don't care - it's a good book, and thought-provoking.

What books do you foist, and why? I'd love to hear.

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