Sunday, February 06, 2005

Snow Reading

If a mishap had not occurred with our camera you would, at this very moment, be subject to pictures of people frolicking in the pristine snow of vehemently un-swanky Strawberry, California. So consider yourselves lucky. As for Paqui, who mocked me for not purchasing a visor beanie, I have but this to say: pfffft. The only people wearing visor beanies were 14-year-old boys with slumping shoulders, stringy hair, and unfortunate cases of acne.

The logical thing for someone like me to do when at the snow And yes, okay, I did a few lightweight—as in, geez, what a lightweight—sled runs. I was also pelted viciously and far too gleefully with snowballs. Strangely, my reaction was to strike the Heisman Trophy pose each time I was hit. Some sort of temporary high altitude illness, I s'pose.

Where the hell was I? Oh, yes: snow reading is first cousin to beach reading. You need something light, but not too light. And it must be short enough to finish during your holiday. And it must not be The Da Vinci Code. I ended up choosing The Confessions of Max Tivoli despite its slightly embarassing and incredibly corny "Today's Book Club" emblem. I picked it because the opening goes like this:

We are each the love of someone's life.

I wanted to put that down in case I am discovered and unable to complete these pages, in case you become so disturbed by the facts of my confession that you throw it into the fire before I get to tell you of great love and murder. I would not blame you. So many things stand in the way of anyone ever hearing my story. There is a dead body to explain. A woman three times loved. A friend betrayed. And a boy long sought for. So I will get to the end first and tell you we are each the love of someone's life.

Call me easy, but I was hooked. In fact, if you happened to be looking for me at midnight Saturday, I was locked in the bathroom reading (the five of us shared one room, so I couldn't turn on a light anywhere else) while everyone else slept. Max's narration was overwrought, but in a gorgeous way. And the story was wildly imaginative, tender without being corny, and—at least for me—devoid of even one dull moment. All of which adds up to...good snow reading.

**strikes the Heisman Trophy pose**

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