All right, now this is tough. I have to make some hard decisions here.

    I have to get serious. 

    There is only so much room in the bags I'm packing for the books I want to bring on vacation.  What do I do?  

    I'm not used to these restrictions.  I'm used to slinging 20 bookbags over my shoulders, lugging them all to the car (chipping a bone or two on the way), dumping everything out at home, poring through it all, and then lugging the whole stash back to the office the next day, where there's somehow a brand new batch waiting to be read.

    But restrictions are restrictions, and this is vacation, after all. 

    1.  So do I bring Billie Jean King's new memoir about her "battle of the sexes" against Bobbie Riggs all those years ago, and everything she was up against as she fought for the rights of women athletes?  I've started her book, Pressure is a Privilege; I'm intrigued.  I like her voice.  I think she's an amazing individual.  I'd like to know more.  I have a good feeling I will like the rest of what's here.  (I rowed women's crew in college, at least for a little while, so I'm aware of, and I'm grateful for, how Billie Jean impacted the scholarships, coaches, equipment and facilities we had then and now.)  

    2.  Or do I bring Sue Miller's latest novel, The Senator's Wife, with me?  I love Sue Miller's writing.  A person can get lost in the nuance of her language, in her langurous description of people and places and the personal dilemmas that consume them.  I've started the book.  It's wonderful.  It needs time, lots of time—time on a breezy deck or a gorgeous patch of grass, with the lazy sounds of summer all around.  (I may have that.  And again, I may not.  You've been on family vacations?)

    3.  Or here's an idea.  I can lug A Splintered History of Wood by Spike Carlsen with me.  I've dipped in, and what I've read suggests beautiful, lively writing.  It's oddly compelling to me that someone "has been immersed in the world of wood and woodworking for more than 30 years," and that this author is going to explain to a non-woodworking individual like me just how baseball bats, golf tees, kites and whatnot are made, and by whom, and where.  I'm sure I will like the book.  I'm sure my sons will.  It will be a great book for us to share together -- a great book to have read. 

    4.  Or, I will take Dry Storeroom No. 1: The Secret Life of the Natural History Museum by Richard Fortey with me.  I adore museums.  I want to know more.  When I lived and worked in London I visited most of the great museums there (when I wasn't spending my last dollar at the theater), so this book will take me back intimately.  I am sure of it.    

    5.  Or, I can hunt and peck my way through Why Don't Woodpeckers Get Headaches? by Mike O'Connor.  It presents cool bird factoids in a light, fun way, with oddball anecdotes and a Q&A format.  I will finally learn more about not only woodpeckers but all the vireos, hummingbirds, cardinals and chickadees that attack the feeders on our deck every morning.  (But I am not a birder.)

    6.  Or, I can bring Annie Proulx's new collection of stories along, Fine Just the Way It Is.  She is a fine, fine writer.  This would be fine. 

    I also have some incredibly tempting manuscripts sitting here that could be easily carted along: Ted Turner's big new book (coming out this fall);  Lee Woodruff's next book (publishing in spring 2009); Lynn Goldberg's new book (early 2009); and several tantalizing others. 

    So it's truly a tough call.  Space is limited.  Time is short.  And summer is nearly gone.  

    I know I'll bring something.  That much is for sure. 

    I just won't know until the car pulls away and I see how much room we have.  (Or how the mood strikes.)

    In the meantime, happy reading! 

    (I'll let you know how it goes.)