My most beloved books and the collected items that bookmark them
Part one.
Book: “Even Cowgirls Get the Blues” by Tom Robbins
Bookmark: An El Rey Court motel map
I’d never even been fully naked in front of a group of girlfriends before, much less strangers. But at Harbin Hot Springs — a 3,000-acre retreat up a secluded canyon near Napa Valley — it almost felt inappropriate to be clothed. If anyone watched as seven 26-year-old women undressed and slathered sun oil on each other’s bare bodies, they didn’t make it obvious.
Within minutes, being nude felt natural and pure. I swam breaststroke in the 80-degree mineral water and walked higher up the mountain to alternate between the cold and hot plunge pools. At one point, I decided to lay my towel down on a wide deck with a view of the canyon below. I dozed for a few minutes on my back, lulled to sleep by the touch of the sun’s rays, which glowed soft and orange from all the wildfire smoke.
When I woke up and rolled over onto my stomach, I glanced around to see that a few others had joined me on the sunbathing deck. The older man who had laid his towel nearest to mine was a real eternal hippie type — in his early 60s, I guessed, with shoulder-length, wavy grey hair and wiry glasses. He was reading Tom Robbins’ “Even Cowgirls Get the Blues,” the very same novel I’d brought in my tote bag.
I pulled out my own copy and brandished it in his direction, saying something like, “Well, what do you know?” Without skipping a beat, we had a full conversation about the book and our other favorite authors. Just two strangers lying completely naked in the sun, brought together by chance, talking about Sissy Hankshaw, drugged whooping cranes and philosophical cave inscriptions.
Books can be bridges like that. Shared stories have a way of connecting people in even the most uncomfortable of circumstances.
Just as I permanently mark my books to easily recall passages that once spoke to me, the bookmarks I use are eternal. These items remain within the pages of my books forever like mini time capsules. One look at these momentos between the pages of a beloved copy and I’m instantly transported back to where I was — mentally and physically — when I first read it.
Below are a few of my most beloved books, the items that mark them, and a few memories that arise when I see them.
Book: “Fish Soup” by Margarita García Robayo
Bookmark: A business card from Bar Brutal
Our first full day in Barcelona calls for natural wine and tapas at Bar Brutal. Oysters for everyone from a beach in the north of France ironically named Utah Beach. We try to tell our waiter we’re from a state in America called Utah, but he just laughs at us. “These oysters are not from America,” he says. We try to explain, but he doesn’t understand.
The wine is good, the tapas are delicious, the lights are dim and the music is loud. The energy is young and buzzing. We share two bottles and almost everything on the menu.
I order a boozy coffee drink I saw on the Italian menu last night — a cafe coretto — as a nightcap, which our waiter tells me is called “carajillo” in Spain. Essentially, coffee with liquor. I choose grappa. “Carajillo con grappa!” He exclaims, excited. “I’ve had many fun nights, carajillo con grappa with my friends, lots of drugs.”
It’s incredibly strong and I can barely choke it down, but Alexa loves the anise flavor of the grappa and finishes it for me. We tell our waiter we’re catching a plane to Mallorca the next day and ask him where we should eat. He says he knows a fantastic chef who works at a restaurant on the west side of the island, outside of Palma. “Go to LA PORTEÑA,” he says, “And tell him you’re a friend of Juan’s.” He writes it on the business card so we won’t forget.
Book: “Norwegian Wood” by Haruki Murakami
Bookmark: A boarding pass from Dallas to Seoul, a business card from Sim Coffee Jip in Myeongdong
Ever since we arrived at our Airbnb in Myeongdong, I’ve walked past the same cafe with the yellow awning each morning and night. The same man is always inside at the counter alone, wearing his brimless cap and reading or making a pour-over, presumably for himself. I’ve had a strong urge to go inside and give him some company each time I walk past. Today, I took the opportunity of spending the day alone to pay him a visit.
He didn’t speak any English, so we communicated via Google Translate and Papago for nearly an hour. His name is Sim Jai. He served me a Kenyan made with his special slow-drip pour-over method. He calls the resulting brew “Black Tear Drop” coffee — a wordplay on the slow, methodical drip of the water on the grounds, he told me via Papago — and it was the most flavorful cup of coffee I’ve ever had. It was brewed so slowly that it was nearly syrupy in texture but bright and perfectly balanced. Like a hot chocolate-textured wine.
Sim Jai asked me how long my trip was. “I want to teach you Korean hand-poured coffee,” he typed, to which I replied I was leaving for Busan tomorrow and should have come in sooner. We took a selfie and he had me sign a guestbook. He typed, “Some day I will come to Utah and teach you Korean hand-poured coffee.” His kindness made me wonder why I’ve felt self-conscious as a foreigner here at all.
Book: “Crime and Punishment” by Fyodor Dostoevsky
Bookmark: A torn and nondescript receipt for $22.65
I never actually finished this book because a friend who studied Russian literature informed me I purchased the translation widely considered to be the worst (Garnett) and that I ought to find a copy translated by Joseph Frank or Anthony Briggs. His other piece of advice: “Get a 3x5 notecard and write down all the patronymics for the main characters, as each of them has 2-3 nicknames. Use this notecard as your bookmark and keep it handy while you’re reading.”
I’m not sure where the receipt is from or why it’s the chosen bookmark for this copy, but somehow it makes sense.
Book: “Another Roadside Attraction” by Tom Robbins
Bookmark: A sticker from the Furnace Creek Visitor Center at Death Valley National Park
Sitting at the picnic table at my Furnace Creek campsite. I believe the temperature high today is something like 75 degrees, but it feels much hotter. I laugh at the Mekenna who, hours earlier, excitedly bought Momofuku numbing chili noodles at the Harmons in St. George to eat for dinner. Until the sun gets lower on the horizon, I’m not appetized by the thought of eating anything but ice.
It takes me a while to place the sound, but I soon realize the sounds of splashing water in the nearby bushes are Brown-Headed Cowbird calls. The birdcalls sound so strange in a landscape where there is no water to be found.
Book: “What Matters Most is How Well You Walk Through the Fire” by Charles Bukowski
Bookmark: A photo of a house and a handwritten card
I purchased this well-worn Bukowski copy from Savers. Whoever owned it before me was named Daniel. I can tell because there is a business card from someone named Gail inside it. On the back, she wrote in green marker, “Daniel, you are the utter epitomy of creativity…Love Gail.” There is also a printed photograph of a house with a brown porch. Maybe it was Daniel’s house.
Daniel seemingly wrote down the date and place he was every time he read a poem from this book. He wrote this information in pencil right on the page under the poem. According to this log, he is usually in Salt Lake City, on a plane, or in either Encinitas, Vegas or Los Angeles. The dates span the years 2000-2004.
When I read a poem I liked, I continued his habit of writing down the date and place in which I read it. Here’s one that Daniel and I had in common:
this moment
it’s a farce, the great actors, the great poets, the great
statesmen, the great painters, the great composers, the
great loves,
it’s a farce, a farce, a farce,
history and the recording of it,
forget it, forget it.you must begin all over again.
throw all that out.
all of them outyou are alone with now.
look at your fingernails.
touch your nose.begin.
the day flings itself upon
you.
12.06.01, in bed on Union St.
- Daniel
07.04.22, at Pineview Reservoir
- Mekenna
The December Highway Noise playlist is live. I think it’s getting more and more random with each month that goes by. This time, we open with spoken word from Jim Morrison and end with an instrumental track titled “Aaaannnnteeeeennnaaaaa.” In the middle: everything from AUDREY NUNA to Loukeman to Timber Timbre. What more could you ask for?
I absolutely love your writing! What an amazing gift?! Never stop, no matter how good A.I. gets!!!
Oh damn cool bookmark idea - gonna steal that