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S U M M E R
3
R E A D I N G
Kathy Coen’s Bookshelf
(English, 1986– )
1. The Art of Racing in the
Rain by Garth Stein
This is my number-one pick
for the beauty and artfulness
of the narrator —a
dog! I have not, for many
years, read such a compelling
novel in terms of
the narrator. Stein took
his opportunity with
“Enzo,” a loyal lab, and
gave us an amazing
perspective on human
behavior as well as
the inner workings of
a dog’s mind and wisdom. Enzo’s
thoughts are so simple that they are complex and close
to a real philosophy of life—and the synergy when
Enzo and his master understand each other produces
remarkable literary moments.
2. Autobiography of a Wardrobe by Elizabeth Kendall
Here too, another unbelievable idea for a narrator—a
wardrobe! Kendall uses this narrator to look back upon
herself and it is a wonderful writer’s exercise! This
book took me back all the way to my first memory of a
lavender robe when I was seven and my favorite onepiece
bathing suit with a rose on it when I was
five...even my purple suede ankle boots in college, or
my trusty Doc Martens when I was in my 30’s. This is a
memoir that highlights the way we find ourselves,
define ourselves, and even lose ourselves through specific
items of clothing. Kendall unravels a memoir of
her life through short chapters highlighting these memories.
A skilled writer and a fabulous way to look at
one’s own “clothesline” and remember. . . .
3. The White Tiger by Aravind Adiga
I loved this novel because of its guts and courage and
because—yes—the narrator could barely contain
himself and stay on the page! The inner workings of his
mind and the sensory-rich mine of his language make
for an unbelievable psychological and physical journey.
Mired in the often putrid “darkness,” the underbelly of
India, our narrator writes about his rise to the top—
from chauffeur to entrepreneur, and about an act of
murder that allowed him a moment of freedom and
turned his life right-side-up. A novel of ironic perspectives
and choices. Reminds me of the narrator in Dostoevsky’s
Crime and Punishment.
4. The Shadow of Sirius by W.S. Merwin
This collection, named after the brightest star in the
sky, also called the dog star, was published in April
of 2009 and won the Pulitzer Prize. Merwin is a master
of brevity and a zen-like compression of language. I
have followed him for my adult life and he is one of
my free verse role models. He is in his 80’s, he is sage,
and we should listen to him. In keeping with an emerging
theme this summer, he has a section of poems
dedicated to his many dogs that have died, and they
are the most lyrical and beautiful love poems I have
read in decades.
5. Ballistics by Billy Collins
I guess I just love Collins for not only his readability,
but for the way he eases you into a conversational
poem, as if it was just that easy to write. In fact, I used
this book all summer as a catalyst before I wrote – kind
of like stretching before a game of tennis with my son!
I heard him read this year and was taken by his erudition.
This collection references all the shadows of
poetry including Ovid, Dante, and Valery. Collins is a
brand unto his own and smartly American. From
August in Paris, he asks the reader:
But where are you, reader,
who have not paused in your walk
to look over my shoulder
to see what I am jotting in this notebook
This summer, Kathy has been walking along the shores
of Jamaica Pond with her own notebook. This is an
excerpt from a poem entitled, June on Jamaica Pond.
The surface of the pond, like the summer itself
is as new tonight, as the idea of the first circle is perfect
as if the three sailboats discovered themselves upon this water
the way they stroke it, so delicately parting
what they love
a thin wake opens and closes as if never there
I know something deeper is below
but not what darkness, or just how thick
their white sails so pure, like the people on the boats
who live forever in this silhouette
as if their thoughts have never been thought
like the summer itself,
lost in a blue day
signaling something that is here, then gone
hold onto this edge
this hint of you.
32 The Park Bulletin | Fall 2009