At Large and at Small by Anne Fadiman

As you may have guessed, I am a fan of many authors. When I was young, I would find one I liked and then read everything they had written; even the dreck they wrote before they wrote something great, the stuff that gets published after the writer becomes famous. I am not one of those people who reads the same book more than once. I would, but I have so many other books to read on that giant heap, and that just seems too decadent.

Years ago, Anne Fadiman wrote a small collection of essays called Ex Libris, Confessions of a Common Reader. When I read it, I was comforted by the thought that Anne’s family was even more obsessed with books and proper grammar than mine. I remember to this day the idea of her family sitting down to eat in a restaurant, silent until someone found the first typo on the menu. Sadly, I found this to be something we had in common, aside from her obsessive love of books. Anne is the daughter of Clifton Fadiman, who was an author, editor, radio and television host, as well as one of the original judges for the Book of the Month Club. Her perspective on things seems a bit skewed by the quiz show atmosphere that pervaded her growing up, but she is a likable geek, and she made me feel incredibly normal by comparison. I read this book twice, and recommended it to everyone in my family. (I have her other book, The Spirit Catches You and You Fall Down on my pile to be read.)

This newer book, subtitled Familiar Essays, almost picks up where the other left off. In it, the author explains the familiar essay — where a critical essay depends on the author’s expertise (brains), and a personal essay on their experience (heart) — the familiar essay attempts to have equal amounts of both. Fadiman’s brains seem obvious to me, especially in her vast vocabulary that made me wish I had the kindle with the built in dictionary. (What else would I expect from a family that loves sesquipedalians, or very long words?) Her heart is clearly involved, on topics ranging from butterfly catching, ice cream, coffee and arctic explorers. People familiar with Ex Libris will remember her obsession with the arctic, from the “odd shelf” in her library.

This was a tiny book, but not really a quick read. Her essays are filled with facts; I had to stop myself from telling my husband all about it as I read, since I want him to read it next. The design of the book itself is familiar, following the layout of Ex Libris. The illustration and design also call to mind my cherished little set of Winnie the Pooh books. It cries out to be held in your hands and enjoyed. Save the Jonathan Franzen for the kindle.