Bel Canto in Good Time

Ted gets around to reading a book with a familiar cover

I am about 80 pages in Ann Patchett’s novel “Bel Canto.” Woolf, Garcia Marquez…these are the names that come to mind, that’s the quality of this book. There is no good reason I shouldn’t have read this before my fourth decade on earth. The paperback edition’s cover has been on my radar for years, populating and seemingly replicating on the shelves of every used bookstore from Archer City to Anchorage. I realized at around college age that this was a hot book among grown-up types. A real book clubber. I recall the synopsis: an opera singer, a house in the jungle, an…incident. But I never picked it up. There’s a psychological phenomenon that must have its own long German word: “you had the chance to read it when it was popular, therefore you will forever pass it up in order not to address the feeling that you can never go back.” A ridiculous sentiment, hence the German.

When Amor Towles lauded Patchett (here), I scanned the library’s database for her work. “Bel Canto” winked at me from the list. It’s time, it winked. Fine, I replied. The copy I checked out is bound in indestructible chocolate-brown plastic, that nuclear age substance found in college libraries and nowhere else on earth. The story contained within is as lyrical and deep as the cover is matte and bland.

While cruising the New Yorker digital archives, I read an excerpt from Frank McCourt’s “‘Tis” that put me on my rear end with its good humor and craft of storytelling. McCourt’s books are in this category: so ubiquitous that you suspect something. After reading that excerpt, I put it on my list. On my very next trip to the thrift shop, there was a copy of “‘Tis” right there on the shelf, where it had been for two of my four decades walking this green earth. Haven’t started it yet, but I look forward to it.

In the meantime, I’ve still got some Canto left to Bel.

for so long I watched this book cover flit past