Books like Born to Run

King’s practical advice and inspiration guided me in writing my debut historical novel.

As a new swimmer in the waters of creative writing, I appreciated King’s opinion that writers learn best by reading and writing, and that the most valuable lessons are the ones we teach ourselves.

I’ve always considered myself an experiential learner. Writing Of White Ashes was a masterclass in asking, “Wait, how do you do that?” And quirky quotes from King, like “the road to hell is paved with adverbs,” helped me choose strong words, construct them into vibrant sentences, and piece together a story I was uniquely suited to tell. 

How does one transform from a rural, home-schooled environment in Utah to earning a PhD at the University of Cambridge? Tara’s immersive writing style takes us with her as she strives to learn about life and family and her place within it.

Through her tender eyes of innocence, her innate sense of integrity, and the slow trusting of her intuition, the veils of deception slowly disappear, and Tara is forced to make choices none of us should ever have to make. Sometimes self-preservation is the precursor to transformation and unconditional love.

Lester Bangs ranks as one of the great music writers and as a high priest of gonzo, the new-journalism approach that posited the writer as the dominant character in rambling, straight-from-the-typewriter pop-cultural manifestos published in Rolling Stone and Creem and their ilk. I think Lester rivals Hunter Thompson and Joan Didion as the most potent and enduring voice of that era. He’s one of my favorite writers. I don’t think he wrote anything but record reviews.

I’ve read Jaimal Yogis’ Saltwater Buddha: A Surfer’s Quest to Find Zen on the Sea countless times.

His coming-of-age story recounts his experiences after traveling, rather running away, to Hawaii as a teenager with little money and only a few belongings to learn how to surf. Riding the blue barrel waves and the salty waters, alongside wisdom from his mentor, led to him realizing the science of surfing, the formation of the ocean and its underwater typography, and the quest for enlightenment are forever meshing and melding together.

Yogis helped me to grasp the space between moments is just as important as moments themselves, and the essence of just “being” is sometimes enough.

What stayed with me most was Morrie’s idea of detaching yourself from the fear surrounding a painful feeling so that you can actually experience it.

I have come to think of that as a kind of presence. It means allowing yourself to feel what is happening without immediately trying to escape it, fix it, or fear it. There is something powerful about simply being present in an ordinary moment and recognizing its value while you are still in it.

Tuesdays with Morrie reminded me that much of life happens in those ordinary moments, and we miss something important when we are too distracted or afraid to fully inhabit them.

A Pulitzer Prize-winning reporter for the New York Times, Rick Bragg’s writing is poetry.

He grew up dirt poor in Alabama. I grew up in a middle-class suburb in New Jersey. He and I have little in common but our love for our mothers. This story touched me on many levels. All mothers sacrifice to some extent in raising their children, but Rick’s mother went above and beyond while facing dire circumstances to provide for hers.

It made me appreciate my mother even more. And though I hadn’t discovered this book prior to my story, it reconfirmed my commitment to my mother. 

This floppy paperback matched the dimensions of an actual record, a geometry that made you feel you were flipping through your Beatles albums as you read it. It came to me as a birthday or Christmas present, probably around age eight. I read it cover to cover, over and over, memorizing entire passages like biblical verses. It was pretty much my only book until I discovered Mad magazine, around age ten. You could do a lot worse.

I stumbled across the first great Rolling Stone record guide around the time I first encountered used record stores: Second Hand Tunes, Dr. Wax and the legendary Wax Trax, all within walking distance of my Chicago high school. I never had sufficient funds to actually purchase the guide, so I snuck it from the shelf at Kroch’s and Brentano’s downtown and memorized as much data as my brain would hold: The best B.B. King albums are the ones on the Crown and Kent labels. Grab any early Kinks LPs you can find. I still quote from Dave Marsh & co. whenever I write about music.

I love this memoir.

It’s open, honest, and really helps you get inside the head of someone who wants to play guitar, maybe more than anything. There’s great insight into addiction, too. And, of course, it has the gossipy rock and roll stuff that can’t be avoided when you’re a member of The Rolling Stones.

The book covers many decades; it’s an intimate look at a long, creative life.

This book attracted me because, as a gerontologist/social worker, I’m interested in the subject of Alzheimer’s disease (AD) and dementia. This book, rather than describing the long, sad decline of a loved one, tells Bloom’s story of trying to help her spouse with AD to end his life.

Bloom is a clinical social worker who writes with a deep understanding of human behavior and motivation, most notably her own, which makes her a fine memoirist. She writes candidly about her emotions, unafraid to reveal less flattering details.

Her story is a sad one, with many ups and downs, but the overwhelming sense I got was of her powerful love for her husband and desire to give him what he needed in the face of his dementia diagnosis.