You Want Me To What??

I am astounded to learn that there are people out there looking to diminish the size of their libraries. If you are one of these people, there is a chilling WikiHow webpage that gives you nine steps to an emaciated library, including suggestions such as giving yourself a "read-to-purchase" ratio or only allowing yourself to buy a new book after you've given one of your old books away. As a friend of mine so eloquently put it: "Blasphemy!"

All "bulimic library" jokes aside, I do recognize that there are people who do not have the space--or in some cases do not have the desire--for a large library. Not every girl grows up dreaming (as I did) not of finding Prince Charming but rather of finding his library (a la Disney's "Beauty and the Beast", pictured above), and this is fine. An extensive library is not for everybody, this is why we have public libraries, and why I support them to the greatest extent possible.

However....

If you do have a personal library it is my firm belief that nobody should make you feel guilty about any unread books it may contain. A library is not just a repository for books you've already read; quite the contrary. A personal library should be filled with old friends (books you've read and loved) and new friends waiting to be made, inspiring you to keep on reading.

My library is not a still and silent collection of books and shelves. And it isn't just for me--it's for my daughters and for my friends. My library is a living, breathing thing; it is a conversation; it is--like each book in it in its turn--a friend and lover, a teacher, a muse. It grows as I grow, and I would not want to hinder that for all the extra shelf space in the world.

Book Review: Résistance, A Woman's Journal of Struggle and Defiance in Occupied France

I came across Agnés Humbert's Résistance completely by accident while browsing the "New in Hardcover" section in Barnes & Noble one day, but rarely have I been more grateful for following my instincts on an unfamiliar book and author. From the moment I picked it up this book has haunted me. Too compelling to put down, but too harrowing to read straight through without breaks to recover emotionally, reading this book became a delicious struggle between my need to continue and my desire to stop and reflect.

Résistance begins with Agnés Humbert's actual journal entries from the summer of 1940 and the beginning of the Nazi occupation of Paris. She describes the conception and birth of the French Resistance from a completely new point of view, almost as if it was a game she and her friends invented to annoy the Nazis. But it is the very casual way in which she describes certain horrors that brings home to the reader the atrocities of the Nazi occupiers. Her descriptions of the bravery, strength and loyalty of her compatriots brought tears to my eyes.

The later portion of the book, after Humbert's arrest, are also written in journal form, but these entries were written just after her release when the war ended. She writes "my memories are so clear that I am able to commit them to paper as they happened and in strict sequence. I remember everything as clearly as though it were written in notebooks". This portion of the book is truly an intimate look into the life of a prisoner of war, and you get the impression that as gut-wrenching as Agnés' experiences are, she actually got off somewhat easily compared to the treatment of so many other prisoners in Nazi camps.

Now that I've told you how clear she is in expressing the horrors of war, I need to tell you how very hopeful Humbert's book is. Although the tears flowed freely while reading many passages, the bleakness never took over, and often my tears were tears of admiration for a woman who was oppressed in so many ways, both physical and spiritual, and yet was still able to resist in any small way she could what she knew to be evil. You could not ask for a better narrator, a better guide through the unbelievable cruelties and unexpected kindnesses of the Nazi prison camps.

Humbert's journal/book covers the time period from just before the Nazi occupation of Paris to the end of the war and the American liberation of the prison camps in Germany. It is not a comprehensive view of the entirety of WWII, but it's not meant to be. It is one woman's harrowing and hopeful experience of losing her certainty in her country's leaders, but keeping her confidence in the spirit of her nation.