A quest -- shunned?

This morning on one of the social media platforms I explore, I came across a question and answer that fascinates me. The question is: Anyone doing the baker’s dozen for books? 13 novels to know me? An answer was provided by a poet whose work I’ve read recently. I recognized and have read about half the novels listed and am familiar with the names of an additional three or four authors, but I was at a loss with the titles of half a dozen novels, until I looked them up on Kirkus Reviews. Now I’m pondering the questions of if I wanted to: could I list a baker’s dozen novels to help someone know me and, perhaps more significantly, do I want to?

For many years now, much of my reading has focused on nonfiction, creative and otherwise, poetry, and short stories by the likes of John Gierach. Any novels were likely to be of the science fiction genre. In fact, it might be interesting to check my list of books read over the past few years and see how many were novels. Much of my novel reading occurred before I reached about half of my current age so, how much about me might 13 titles reveal? The question seems worth exploring whether I share the answer or not.

a vase of forsythia blooms

Photo by J. Harrington

On a somewhat related topic, I’m still about halfway through reading Fritjof Capra and Pier Luigi Luisi’s The Systems View of Life: A Unifying Vision. I suspect that has something to do with a question that occurred to me earlier today. For context, about a week ago I bought a small bunch of forsythia stems in bloom. Since they came home, they’ve been sitting in a vase of water. The blooms have held up nicely and green leaves have developed at the tips of the stems over the week. The question is: are those stems alive? They have, as yet, no roots and are unlikely to be able to sustain themselves if planted. And yet, they might develop roots and become plantable, at which point there is no doubt in my mind they’d qualify as alive. I think I may let this question percolate as I review my listings and bookshelves for novels. Are you noticing how much trouble reading can get one into?

Life

By George Herbert

I made a posy, while the day ran by: 

“Here will I smell my remnant out, and tie 

                           My life within this band.” 

But Time did beckon to the flowers, and they 

By noon most cunningly did steal away, 

                           And withered in my hand. 

My hand was next to them, and then my heart; 

I took, without more thinking, in good part 

                           Time’s gentle admonition; 

Who did so sweetly death’s sad taste convey, 

Making my mind to smell my fatal day, 

                           Yet, sug’ring the suspicion. 

Farewell dear flowers, sweetly your time ye spent, 

Fit, while ye lived, for smell or ornament, 

                           And after death for cures. 

I follow straight without complaints or grief, 

Since, if my scent be good, I care not if 

                           It be as short as yours.

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