Just Go Read This

There are books that make me feel incredibly thankful to have crossed their path. It is with a great sense of satisfaction that I want to celebrate these discoveries. With many famous, or classical works of literature filling up my list of 'to-reads', it feels miraculous each time I come across one of these lesser known parcels of excellence.

It's the kind of book I order 3 copies at a time, one that's never returned, one that I wrap up for many birthdays:

Fittingly, the first time I was faced with the works of Mr. Hrabal was in his homeland of the Czech Republic. Studying Czech culture and social change, Too Loud a Solitude was set in front of me with little to no explanation whatsoever. It didn't take long for me to realize how lucky I was, this was one of these very special intersections (of me, and book). Busting at the seams with colorful life and bottomless emotion, the book opens with some of the most beautiful metaphors ever written. In fact, it's here that Hrabal writes my most favorite beginnings to any book ever written:

I am a jug filled with water both magic and plain, I have o nly to lean over and a stream of beautiful thoughts flows out of me

Homemade bookmark

The tale of Hanta, the bibliophile, who painfully murders books for a living. Piles upon piles of books arrive at his feet, in the hot and dirty space between Prague's modern street level and sewage that houses his solitude. One after another, Hanta is tortured by the destruction. Memories, hallucinations and facts are woven together by way of his hydraulic press. Visits from colorful gypsies and cold jugs of beer schlepped from pub to sub-layer help relieve the haunted Hanta. Mountains of books and knowledge crowd the pages and this man's solitude is the story. As the reader, we sit - crammed and enlightened - inside the dome of what is Hanta's brain.

Now, just go read it!

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