“What really knocks me out is a book that,
when you’re all done reading it,
you wish the author that wrote it was a terrific friend of yours
and you could call him up on the phone whenever you felt like it.
That doesn’t happen much, though.”
_ Holden Caulfield
The Catcher in the Rye
when you’re all done reading it,
you wish the author that wrote it was a terrific friend of yours
and you could call him up on the phone whenever you felt like it.
That doesn’t happen much, though.”
_ Holden Caulfield
The Catcher in the Rye
Stick around long enough, and you’re bound to hear me talk about two writers – C.S. Lewis and Donald Miller. Like Holden, I wish I could call them up on the phone and tell them both just how much their books mean to me – but that’s not really an option. For one, authors don’t post their personal phone numbers on the Internet, for the precise reason that some hairy fellow in Kentucky might find it and bother them with a phone call (on a side note, I had Snoop Dogg’s phone number in high school; it went straight to voicemail). Secondly, it’d be a little awkward to call Mr. Lewis, seeing as he’s been dead for nearly fifty years. So the best I can do is to write them each a thank-you note, and send it through the mail to their publishing companies. Maybe they’ll forward Mr. Miller’s; as for C.S.’s, I have no idea where that’ll end up.
If you’re keeping score at home, that’s ten thank-you notes; twenty more to go.
If you’re keeping score at home, that’s ten thank-you notes; twenty more to go.
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