Alfred J Bruey - Jackson, MI (USA):
This book originally was bound in blue leather but was rebound in
red leather. Now it has a happy ending.
This book entered the 1936 Olympics as a high diver but was
disqualified when the judges found out it couldn't swim.
This book ran the Boston Marathon one year but it was so
cold that its binding froze and it fell and hurt its spine.
This book had the goal of reading all the books shelved within
fifty feet of it but it had to quit after suffering a
hernia trying to open an atlas.
This book wanted to be filled with drawings that children could color
but the author only included somber photographs and text that made the
Sarolina Shen Chang - Canton, Michigan (USA):
This is the book Du Fu of Tang Dynasty wrote when the
roof of his straw hut was leaking. We can still hear
the tranquility beyond the rain and yearn for it.
This is the book Tao Yuan Ming of Jin Dynasty wrote, a
fisherman 's accidental journey into an Utopia where people had no knowledge
of the rise and fall of all those dynasties. The
fisherman never found this Utopia again though he had marked every break
of the river on his way home.
This is the book Wu Cheng En of Ming Dynasty wrote, Journey
To The West, the famous monk Xuan Zhuang's pilgrimage to India, the
birthplace of Buddhism. We take sides with the Monkey King, one
of Xuan Zhuang's disciples, whenever there were disagreements. A monkey able
to somersault through clouds saw far and better.
This little red book inflamed the Cultural Revolution. The teenagers had
excuses for their decade long absence from school. The author, Chairman
This fortune cookie proverbs book was not written by Confucius (551 B.C.
-- 479 B.C.). Confucius wrote many important books, had many famous
followers, but had never said or written all those fortune cookie proverbs,
such as: you like Chinese food, you'll find your true love tomorrow,
your investment will rebounce if Greenspan lowered the interest rate by 3/4
of a point.
Mika Wendy Sam - Baltimore, MD (USA):
This book is a whirlpool. Be careful--it will swallow you.
This book was rescued from a wood stove where someone had thrown
it in frustration.
Mark Strand ate this book of poems. See, there are the bite
marks, and the words are oozing out. It cries for unguent. The
librarians huddle around it, distressed.
This book once caught a hockey puck at a Redwings game. It
still has the scar to prove it.
This book knew better than to lick the flagpole, but it...just...couldn't...resist.
Bob Cronk - Charlottesville, Virginia (USA):
This book, with it's cracked and infectious spine,
serves as a dense, mystical gateway on the path to unconventional, imaginative
Elaine Lloyd - Charlottesville, VA (USA):
This is the book I was telling you about - it goes
on forever describing every minute detail of every little thing and leaves
nothing to the imagination - I shout to the author, "Get on
it with it already! Tell me what happens or I'll just rent
This is the book that makes me think I probably shouldn't have
bathed my dog that way
This is the book that on page 146 makes me wonder if
my daughter and I will survive adolescence without too many emotional scars,
and makes me question who started all this "self-help" stuff anyway?
This is the book that makes me cry, but I can't put
This is the book I pick up every night, read three pages,
and fall asleep
Dale McLaughlin - Stillwater, Oklahoma (USA):
I don't understand one word of this tedious tome even if I
had a bitchin' commentary right in front of me not even a
perky footnote to lead me on. Give me a break.
I wallowed in the wide gutter of this trash novel for days
and days. What delicious swill!
This book pulled me in so far that I came out on
the other side another text entirely. Irrevocably.
This book threw me into such paroxysms of laughter that after it
was all over I couldn't find my lips anywhere to read with
This book is written by a demented logophile bent on flinging golden
bullshit and avoiding the remainder bin like the plague.
Katherine Borghardt - Ottawa, KS (USA):
This book is the champagne, whacked across the bow, kissing
our sorry asses goodbye!
This book is a catalogue of thread, the common one running through
and tying us together.
This book is the book of registry, a running commentary on who
and what material, or immaterial, they gave.
Patricia Valdata - Elkton, MD (USA):
This is the book my mother read to me as she lay
on the green couch in the small two-family house on Ball Street.
Imagine: The day your first novel is published, but your dog is
so sick you don't care anymore.
The dog gets well, and you are an author at last, signing
copies of your first book for your best friend, who came to
the book signing with you; the stranger who approaches the table where
you sit, pen ready, asks where the restroom is.
This book taught you the word 'phony'.
She flipped the pages of the textbook as you argued with your
English teacher that a poem should not mean but be.
Mika Wendy Sam - Baltimore, MD (USA):
This book tells the story of the old woman who swallowed a
fly. She didn't die; no one knows why.
This book is a cookbook. It is seasoned with love & hunger
& patience & many hands stirring the broth.
This book was made from the last tree on earth.
This book is a goddess. Her armor glimmers in the light.
This book fell in a forest once. It made a sound. Do
you know what sound that was? Neither do I--I wasn't there.
This book is a _former_ bestseller.
This book is the idea of a book. It has no cover,
no pages, no spine. It is no trouble to the other books.
This book was written by a man from Venus. He knows how
the limerick ends.
This book is one word long.
This book was typed by a monkey.
This book holds a grudge; this book forgives.
This book was rushed to the hospital and had its appendix taken