First encounters

Content Warning: death of an infant

I had the joy of seeing Louise Penny at the Carnegie Music Hall in Oakland last night. She is on tour with her new book, A World of Curiosities, which was released on Tuesday. Admission to the event included a signed copy of the book, and I dove in as soon as I got home! 

The interview was conducted by Marie Benedict (The Personal Librarian, The Mystery of Mrs. Christie, etc.), an author who I had not previously realized is local to Pittsburgh, and the event hosted by Riverstone Books. What a delight to be among others who cherished these characters so deeply, and who also hung on Louise's every word.

I've read through the Three Pines series at least once, some books more than once, and in addition to being good mystery stories with lovely characters, I love the way that Louise weaves in so much culture - art and literature, music and history. Hearing more about that was perhaps the most interesting part of the event last night. Louise reads so much, and it shows up in the voices of her characters - Auden was one who came up again and again. One character, Ruth Zardo, is a poet, and one of the questions (which I recall also wondering a time or two while reading!) was "Who writes Ruth's poetry?" I was interested to learn that most comes from Margaret Atwood's Morning in the Burned House, as well as Marylyn Plessner's self-published Vapour Trails. 

My first experience with Three Pines is powerfully embedded in my memory. I remember browsing the library shelves and pulling The Beautiful Mystery. The cover was a deep, moody green, with light filtering through branches, and the premise sounded interesting - monks, music, and a mystery! Onto my pile it went. It wasn't until I started reading that I realized it was part of a series (ninth, in fact), so there were parts that seemed muddled apart from the context of earlier events. Even so, the story was rich and memorable, even more so because of where I was reading.

I had thrown the book into a bag along with a sweater and water bottle and my phone charger in order to be at the hospital with a parishioner's daughter-in-law who would soon give birth to a baby girl who we knew would not live. As I waited through the hours of labor, I immersed myself in the abbey hidden by a forest, imagining the rising and falling chants of the monks that marked their days. Adrihanna was born around 3:30am, and I baptized her with three tiny drops of water shortly after. She lived for 12 hours, wrapped in love the entire time.

Though there are 16 (now 17!) other books in the series about Inspector Gamache and Three Pines (and as of Dec. 2, a series on Prime Video!), I cannot read any of them without drifting back to that first experience in such a beautiful, heartbreaking setting.

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I had a similarly memorable first experience with David Sedaris. In the spring of my freshman year of college, I traveled with a group from the school to study in Wittenberg, Germany for the semester. At some point, we were given access to the English language library at the university there, and while browsing the stacks, I came across a striking book cover - it featured just the torso of a naked Barbie doll, and the sort of zany title Dress Your Family In Corduroy and Denim. I took it back to the apartment, and snorted and chuckled and guffawed my way through it rather quickly. When I was done, I turned back to the first page and read the whole thing again.

 

I don't remember which particular essays are in that volume, but I do remember feeling the relief of familiarity (a library, and the English language, and the quirks of family) and the power of laughter at a time when I felt out of my element and a little homesick.

Since that time, I have read or listened to all of David's books, and had the delight of seeing him on tour twice, once in college (the spring that I had a broken ankle; he inscribed my book with "To Kerri: You're only using that as a crutch) and once in Pittsburgh with Daniel. It's been a memorable 16ish years, and I always look forward to returning to his reflections on life.

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Stories are such powerful things. They can transport us away from where we are - whether into the world of the story, or, upon reflection, back to the time and place of our first encounters. 

What memorable first encounters have stuck with you?