Rated of 5
by Dorothy T.
More than a book about books
“How could anyone who loves books not love a book that is itself so in love with books?” (page 125).
I was intrigued by the title of this book and expected that it would deal with reading and books, and since I love books and reading myself, it seemed to be just the thing for me. I was pleasantly surprised to find that it is much more—it is a memoir and tribute to Mary Ann Schwalbe, the author’s mother, who died of pancreatic cancer a few years ago. As well as adding several volumes to my to-read list, I felt my own passions for reading good books renewed. Why should I waste precious time with poorly conceived and executed material? In other words, what would I spend my time reading if I knew that I only had a short time left to read? That is the idea I came away with, and I also grew to respect and admire Mary Ann Schwalbe.
Don’t think that this memoir is sad or maudlin; it is far from it. The author cleverly uses various books to connect with what is happening in his mother’s life, with her relationships with her family and friends, and her battle with cancer. It is thoroughly enjoyable and would be a great selection for book clubs and for people facing cancer or other serious illnesses as patients or those close to them.