A Good Book, A Good Life

 In some previous posts I've mentioned my thoughts on what books should do for the reader.  For instance, I consider a book "good" if it evokes strong emotions, positive or negative, if it makes you love or hate a character, if it pulls on your heart-strings and doesn't let go.  The right book meets you where you are or finds you when you need it most.  It's a magical or karmic sort of relationship, if you believe in that sort of connection.  Yes, world-building, character development, and plot are important components of a well-written novel, but those are the tools that help build the house that is the book.  Without emotion a book falls flat for me, maybe you too.

A recent loss brought these thoughts home to me in the most vivid way.  My 95 year old mother-in-law, Flo, passed away near the end of March.  She had lived a good long life and left behind a family with many lovely memories, some of which were shared at her memorial service.  My son, Cody, read a perfectly appropriate passage from Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance by Robert M. Pirsig. He followed up with his thoughts on how apt it was to the way in which his grandmother lived her life. At a glance this book might appear to be about "motorcycle maintenance", in reality it is a philosophy and guide on how to live a full life-something Flo did with gusto and verve.  

"You see things vacationing on a motorcycle in a way that is completely different from any other.  In a car you're always in a compartment, and because you're used to it you don't realize that through that car window everything that you see is just more TV.  You're a passive observer and it is all moving by you boringly in a frame.  

On a cycle the frame is gone.  You're completely in contact with it all.  You're in a scene, not just watching it anymore, and the scene of presence is overwhelming.  That concrete whizzing by five inches below your foot is the real thing, the same stuff you walk on, it's right there, so blurred you can't focus on it, you can put your foot down and touch it anytime, and the whole thing, the whole experience, is never removed from immediate consciousness."

Flo lived in touch with Pirsig's philosophy for the whole of her life.   She was unfailingly in the scene, not just watching it, to paraphrase.  As an example, Cody recalled a very cold, teeth-chattering Thanksgiving motorcycle camping trip with his Mimi as the epitome of being in the moment.  Cody and his dad on one motorcycle, Mimi and Uncle Rick on another, riding out for the long weekend. At the time this was a woman in her seventies, but never a woman to be left behind.  So much so, that at the age of 72, Flo bought her own motorcycle and took off on many adventures that were "never removed from immediate consciousness".  She spoke of those trips within her last few days, so I believe we can say the Pirsig is correct, in that the "sense of presence is overwhelming".  I believe it was for her and is for Cody.  

Florence L. Marshall and Randy Marshall

I admit this is a book, by it's title, I would never have pulled from the shelf or downloaded a sample, but it clearly met my criteria for a good book-it promoted strong feelings, it met Cody where he was.  Within a short couple of paragraphs, my son was able to describe his grandmother in a succinct, but perfect way.  As one who usually holds his emotions close to the vest, he was comfortable using this book as a vehicle to describe his feelings about riding motorcycles and the loss of his grandmother, two very disparate things.