My absolute favorite books–fiction or nonfiction–are ones that transport me to another place. Or another time and place. James Herriot’s Yorkshire. Ignatius J. Reilly’s New Orleans. Twain’s Mississippi.
Sometimes I don’t want a deep, thought-provoking read. I just want to open the cover and enjoy.
The best stories, the most memorable stories, are the ones in which build an unbreakable bridge between the reader and character.
When I picked up Anthony Doerr’s memoir about his year in Rome, I wondered: How will I not be pummeled with meaningless adjectives and cliches I’ve read a thousand times? How will I not drown in melodrama? Luckily he had the answers.