In her poem "The Miser," Ruth Padel describes a young Charles Darwin's predilection for collecting and classifying objects as a way to make "like Orpheus, a system against loss." One could say the same for the biography/memoir-in-verse, a dynamic form that allows poets to revisit the lives of their subjects through imagery, rhythm, and metaphor instead of the more rigid bounds of chronology that biographers must follow. Considering that biographies, autobiographies, and memoirs usually make a strong showing on bestseller lists, the poetic analogues to these forms deserve a wider audience and also provide an ideal introduction to newcomers wishing to dip a tentative toe into the rushing waters of poetry.

Books and documentaries about the Lewis and Clark Expedition have proven popular in recent years, but Campbell McGrath opens a new window onto this famous duo in Shannon: A Poem of the Lewis and Clark Expedition, by focusing on one of its lesser-known figures: George Shannon, an 18-year-old expedition member who became lost from the group for sixteen days. Shannon himself kept no record of what happened during his accidental sojourn on the prairie (present-day Nebraska and South Dakota), so McGrath has free reign to re-create the young explorer's shifting emotions when confronted by the immensity of the wilderness. Implementing the perfect blend of high and low diction, McGrath captures Shannon's voice without strain or pretension in a series of free verse poems, one for each day spent wandering.

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If you're in the USA, UK or Canada, look out for Major Pettigrew's Last Stand, publishing in hardcover in the next few days. It's a charming first novel by Helen Simonson starring retired Major Ernest Pettigrew and Mrs Jasmina Ali, widowed owner of the village shop. Set in a small country village in the south of England, the author absolutely nails the quintessentially English characters and setting, but the story evolves into something deeper than the anticipated microcosm of village life and prejudices.  While very different to The Guernsey Literary Potato Peel Pie Society or The No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency series, readers of either of these are likely to appreciate Major Pettigrew's outlook on life.

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It's been snowing here since before Christmas. Not much for some parts of the world, admittedly (I sent a picture of my kids sledging to a friend in Canada and she emailed back 'nice frost') but, for us on the south coast of England, it's a totally new experience.

Things I like about the snow:

1. The quiet. No cars, no school run, just that all-enveloping white blanket. Comforting and scary at the same time.
2. The kids playing outside all day in a huge feral gang. This is what childhood should be like (this attitude gets me into trouble at parent/teacher evenings)
3. Not having to shop.
4. The beautifying effect. Our garden is full of rusty toys and dead plants – under the snow it looks like a winter wonderland.

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This holiday, in between shopping for presents, I began reading an amazing book, The Gift: Creativity and the Artist in the Modern World by Lewis Hyde. It is, in part, about the cultural meaning of gift exchange, and though my timing in reading it during Christmas was coincidental, the resonances were very welcome. By day, I would buy gifts and experience a familiar twinned pleasure and guilt at all the consumption. By night, I would read The Gift and find myself getting to the source of that dual emotion.

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'Begin at the beginning,' the King said gravely, 'and go on till you come to the end: then stop.' (from Alice and Wonderland, by Lewis Carroll)

Remember when summer stretched out endlessly before you, and kind people fixed you snacks while you sprawled on the floor in impossibly limber positions reading to your heart's content? Well I do, and even though I haven't taken a real summer vacation in my entire adult life, I still compile my reading list as if I'm heading off for a month-long sprawl in the Hamptons. With 23 books on my "shortlist" for this already-waning summer, even if I got on the Jitney right now I'd never finish them by Labor Day. Woe is me, woe to all of us readers who still race into a bookstore with the breathless hope of school children on holiday. Because I remember what it feels like to turn the last page under the same setting sun that rose that morning, and nothing can replace the feeling of being completely immersed in a story from beginning to end.

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My book-loving friend Martin and I have a recurring conversation that usually starts with, "I'm going on vacation and can't figure out which book to take."  It's an interesting conundrum, and for us book addicts, a critically important decision that we begin pondering weeks before we actually leave town.

I suppose it partially depends on the type of vacation on which you're taking this treasured companion (and by that I'm referring to your book and not your spouse).  If your intent is a relaxing week at the beach, for example, you might pick something light and fun, perhaps romantic; the latest from Ann Brashares or Jude Devereaux might be your choice.  Those seeking to rekindle that special spark (and this time, I am talking about your spouse) might look for a steamier option, like Anne Rice's Beauty series or something by Jamie Denton (or perhaps no book at all!).   Still others may prefer perusing a longer or more complex book while on vacation, since it's rare for them to have a large block of time in which to read.

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