Sunset, evening star, good red wine and a view of a great bend in the Cumberland River brought recollections one evening of traveling the mountains of Wyoming with Lucius. We had a yen for a book a book to jog our memory and, in these uncertain days, give a clue to the question, “What would Lucius say?” By coincidence, I had recently read a prospectus of Cold Tree Press, a high-quality, print-on-demand publishing business based in Nashville. If they could and would do what they promised, such a book would be do-able, even for people like us, who knew nothing about publishing.

We started the process in early May 2003 and wanted to have books ready by Christmas. (I didn’t want to do any Christmas shopping and had promised someone that they would have a book for Christmas a rash move, perhaps.) No narrative can depict a man’s life as accurately as his own words. I had stacks of Lucius’ papers given to me over the years speeches, articles, letters. With the miracle of a computer and help from technically adept friends, these papers were scanned to my laptop, arranged, minimal connective material was added and final editing was completed. We turned in a disk to Cold Tree Press on October 1. They printed a double-sided, unbound copy so we could see what it would look like as a book. We found some typos on this proof and were allowed to make corrections. Unlike traditional publishing, we discovered that authors are involved throughout the process and are able to participate in important decisions.

And, voilˆ, just in time for Christmas, we had our first book. Peter Honsberger, the Cold Tree partner who worked with us, handled the project with good humor. Even more, his experience in advertising and graphics is evident in the excellent formatting and design. The quality of the paper is what I first notice in any book, and when I saw the quality of paper they used, I knew we had made the right choice. We were also pleased by the remarkably reasonable cost and the fact that we will never be burdened with too many books only as many as we need.

The result is a beautiful book, worthy of its subject. Start with “Recollections of a Bounty Hunter,” the only published account of shooting eagles, wolves and hair seals for bounty during the Great Depression of the early ’30s paid by the Territory of Alaska and encouraged by the U.S. Biological Survey. “Dromahair” is Everyman’s dream of owning a castle in Ireland. Searching for the wrecks of the Armada off the wild northern coast of Scotland and Ireland leads to the raising and dedication of three cannons of the Dutch island in the Caribbean, St. Eustatius, which fired the first salute to an American warship, thus recognizing the United States as an independent nation. Of the practice of law, Lucius writes, “I should like to convince you that no activity surpasses the practice of law in social usefulness. Second, of all professions, it permits more freedom, is more conducive to living an expansive personal life, and, finally, that no way of life is more stimulating and challenging.” Also included is an abridged transcript of successful federal court proceedings to lift an injunction against a protest march led by Martin Luther King Jr. on the day he was shot in Memphis. Ambassador Andrew Young, who served as King’s aide, says, “During the times of social unrest, many of the unsung heroes of the South were lawyers and judges. To me, Lucius Burch was the best. His writings confirm the courage and intelligence of a great man who made a difference.” Through the tenets of conservation, the law and equal opportunity for all people, there run through Lucius’ life whimsical and optimistic tying rods of personal freedom and life lived to the utmost. His life was divided, at his will, between advocating unpopular causes and exploring the wilderness of the earth, usually on foot, either alone or with those who loved him. Now we can vicariously roam his world and, in days of diminishing private rights, read his thoughts, which leave no doubt as to “what would Lucius say?” Lucius: Writings of Lucius Burch (Cold Tree Press, $26.95, ISBN 1583850198) was edited by Shirley Caldwell-Patterson, Cissy Caldwell Akers, Bill Coble and John Noel.

<B>The tumultuous times of England’s greatest writer</B> While the works of William Shakespeare are for the ages, they were written in a particular place and time. We can better appreciate the Bard’s achievement if we are aware of events and profound changes that took place during the Elizabethan era, particularly in London, that significantly influenced him. Frank Kermode, the eminent British literary critic and historian of 16th and 17th-century literature, provides this important context in <B>The Age of Shakespeare</B>. This gem of a book gives us an historical overview of national politics, the place of religion, the development of professional drama and theater and changes at many levels of society in the early stages of capitalism, as well as the little we know for certain about Shakespeare’s life, conjectures about it and insights into the plays.

Kermode characterizes Shakespeare as "only the grandest of the poets" during a time when the arts, especially poetry and theater, flourished. While his importance cannot be underestimated, Shakespeare’s "was an age of vast and various poetic achievement, a period unparalleled in the history of anglophone poetry." Many of these poets wrote for the theater as well, although those who did not included Edmund Spenser, usually regarded as the master poet of the period. It may be that Shakespeare’s original intent was to be a page-poet rather than a poet for the stage. He may have turned to the theater to make a living.

<B>The Age of Shakespeare</B> also explores in some detail the fascinating subject of the development of dramatic blank verse, the writing format that Shakespeare preferred and perfected. With regard to the poet’s influence on language, Kermode states, "it is hardly too much to call it a revolutionary change in dramatic language, even a transformation of English itself, now alive to a new range of poetic possibilities." Still, Kermode doesn’t discount the acting skills of Richard Burbage and other veteran actors, who enabled Shakespeare to create his many complex characters; he devotes much attention to the development of acting styles of the time.

Shakespeare’s history plays represent a fourth of his total theatrical output. Despite the possibility of censorship, they dealt with the sensitive subject of royal secession, on the minds of many people during the Tudor period. In those days, Kermode asserts, "the whole issue was bound up inseparably with religious differences, and religion could mean war." Many English Catholics, for example, believed that Elizabeth was not a legitimate ruler and should therefore be ousted from the throne. <I>Macbeth</I>, of all the great tragedies, is considered by Kermode to be most relevant to current events in early 17th-century England. Kermode highlights the allusions to the Gunpowder Plot of 1605 and the interrogation of the conspirators involved, while tagging the Weird Sisters as a reference to the King’s well-known interest in witchcraft. This authoritative companion to William Shakespeare’s works, life and times is consistently enlightening and entertaining. <I>Roger Bishop is a bookseller in Nashville and a contributing editor to BookPage.</I>

Richard Lederer is a language maven. He’s written 30 books on the subject, has a syndicated newspaper column called “Looking at Language” and hosts a weekly show on San Diego Public Radio. For Lederer, language is a thing to be celebrated, and rather than adopt a critical tone or bother to chastise the illiterate he opts for lucid and enthusiastic reportage on words and their development and usage. A Man of My Words: Reflections on the English Language is a feast for the “verbivore” (as Lederer calls himself), featuring dozens of chapters revolving around reflections on the writing life (his own and others much more famous) and touting the wonders of English, the world’s largest, most diverse and amazingly eclectic language, which contains nearly four times the number of words (616,500, according to the Oxford English Dictionary) as its nearest competitor, German. Other topics up for discussion in Lederer’s comprehensive collection include word origins, American dialects, proverbs, “fadspeak” (words derived from pop, social and business cultures), discussions on pronunciation (including the dreaded “NOO-kyuh-lur” for “nuclear,” botched by politicians from Eisenhower to the present day) and the important effect of regionalisms on language.

With unswerving faith in humankind’s innate expressive adaptability, Lederer seeks to make sense of the natural progression of word and usage development and catalog its change and growth with intelligence and delight. By and by, Lederer also shares some personal reminiscences on family life and his travels and work all word-related, of course including his interesting duties as an interpreter of the exact legal meaning of a ballot-box political referendum for the state of Maine. Challenging quizzes make for diverting reading or even for light gamesmanship with fellow word-fanatical friends. This thoughtful, rigorously literate volume engages from first page to last but works just as well as an item for random browsing. Martin Brady writes from Nashville.

For a more literary approach to Lewis’ work, take a look at Inside Narnia: A Guide to Exploring The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe by Devin Brown, which purports to be the first in-depth literary analysis of Lewis’ first children’s book. Brown proceeds chapter-by-chapter through the novel, examining not only the more obvious mythological, religious and cultural origins of Lewis’ story, but also his far subtler genius for using descriptive imagery to highlight character traits and philosophies. In one insightful passage, Brown compares the Beavers’ hut and its humble, homey contents to the outwardly grand but inwardly cold and empty palace of the White Witch a metaphor for the spiritual states of the inhabitants. Inside Narnia is well-written and readable, even for those to whom “literary analysis” brings back horrific memories of freshman English classes.

Christian themes and philosophy pervade Lewis’ works, and the Chronicles are no exception. Jonathan Rogers’ The World According to Narnia: Christian Meaning in C.S. Lewis’ Beloved Chronicles explores the spiritual truths in each of the seven Narnia books. Rogers has a gift for revealing subtleties of meaning, theme and character that might go unnoticed even after many readings. Whether it is Prince Caspian’s theme of seeing the evidence for faith when others don’t, or The Silver Chair’s message about standing firm for Christ when evidence seems to point the other way, Rogers reveals how the characters of the Chronicles, including the villains, represent aspects of human faith and frailty. The World According to Narnia can be read for both curiosity and inspiration; if it has a flaw, it is that it ends too quickly.

Nothing inspires fear in the hearts of readers quite the way poetry can. The hoary literary category is something most of us attend to only in school. But this holiday season, poetry gets a lift from the literature lovers at Sourcebooks, who have designed a beguiling gift around the most overlooked genre in the publishing industry. Poetry Speaks, a trio of audio CDs accompanied by an impressive anthology, offers a star-studded lineup of authors reading their own classic poems aloud. Hear the prize winners and the poet laureates, the writers who nursed their verse to near-perfection modernists like T. S. Eliot and Ezra Pound; confessionalists Sylvia Plath, Anne Sexton and Robert Lowell. Beginning with Alfred, Lord Tennyson, whose 1888 reading from "The Charge of the Light Brigade" is offered here on audio for the first time, Poetry Speaks spans more than a century and presents the recordings of 42 writers, including Edna St. Vincent Millay’s crisp, prim delivery of "I Shall Forget You" and a sonorous reading of "The Lake Isle of Innisfree" from William Butler Yeats. Crackling with age, Walt Whitman’s recitation from "America" is ghostly, and T. S. Eliot’s alert to his audience as he prepares to read "Prufrock" is priceless: "I must warn you, it takes a little time always to warm up the engine." The Poetry Speaks companion volume includes photos of the writers and selections of their work. Billy Collins, Seamus Heaney, Mark Strand and other luminaries contributed biographies and essays on each author. From symbolism to imagism, free verse to blank verse, Poetry Speaks offers a quick literary fix to those who’d rather listen than read.

Gorey details One of the most singular figures in American letters is celebrated in Ascending Peculiarity: Edward Gorey on Edward Gorey, which collects a quarter-century’s worth of interviews with the inimitable artist and author, who died last year. Organized chronologically and drawn from sources like The New York Times and The New Yorker, these pieces reveal their subject’s wide-ranging tastes and unmatchable intellect. Gorey, who had no formal art training, attended Harvard in the 1940s. He eventually wound up in New York, where launching a 40-year literary career he devised the demise of many an innocent in wonderfully whimsical, slightly disturbing books like The Gashlycrumb Tinies ("K is for Kate who was struck with an ax, L is for Leo who swallowed some tacks," so the story goes) and The Chinese Obelisks. Gorey’s trademarks the furtive figures, the violence set to verse initially gave him a cult following until he gained the wider audience he deserved. Over the course of countless books, he did for cats what James Thurber did for canines. His lanky dancers jetŽd their way across the pages of a ballet book called The Lavender Leotard. In Ascending Pecularity, he discusses his influences the choreography of Balanchine, the paintings of Balthus, the stories of Borges an artistic assimilation that fed his singular style. With abundant photos of the artist as well as samples of his work, Ascending Pecularity reveals what made Gorey, the ultimate eccentric, tick.

A medieval classic It’s no surprise that one of Gorey’s favorite reads was the 11th century Japanese classic The Tale of Genji. (He frequently named his cats after the story’s characters.) Considered by many to be the world’s first novel, Genji, a narrative of intrigue, romance and manners set in medieval Japan, remains a hallmark of world literature more than 1,000 years after its debut. Written by Lady Murasaki Shikibu, a Japanese courtier, the novel follows the beautiful prince Genji through a series of stormy love affairs and risky political ventures, introducing along the way a large cast of characters, both good and evil. The story spans 75 years and given the fiery nature of its protagonist contains plot twists aplenty. Royall Tyler’s fresh, lyrical translation of the novel, heralded as a literary event comparable to Seamus Heaney’s Beowulf, sets a new standard for approaching the narrative. Tyler, a renowned Japanese scholar, compiled glossaries, notes and a list of characters for this distinctive, two-volume boxed edition. Delicately illustrated with black-and-white reproductions from medieval scrolls and texts, this new, world-class version of Genji brings ancient Asian culture to life the way few literary works can. Truly a timeless tale.

A collection of seasonal miscellanea from America’s wittiest weekly, Christmas at The New Yorker: Stories, Poems, Humor, and Art from the Editors of The New Yorker is a timeless treasury of literary delights. This jolly volume is the latest entry in a best-selling series of anthologies from the magazine. Offering antics aplenty, both visual and verbal, it spans 75 years and features classic, holiday-themed selections cartoons and covers, prose and verse drawn from the publication’s extensive archives.

Contributors to this twinkling collection include William Steig, James Thurber, John Updike, Ann Beattie and Alice Munro, all sharing their singular visions of Christmas. Stand-out offerings from Roger Angell, whose poem “Greetings Friends” is an extended exercise in holiday hilarity, and John Cheever, whose story “Christmas Is a Sad Season for the Poor” will awaken the spirit of giving in readers, are among the many funny and poignant pieces capturing the essence of the season. Choice extracts from the magazine’s “Talk of the Town” feature are sprinkled throughout the volume. There are newer offerings from the likes of Ken Kesey and Richard Ford, as well as gems from E.B. White and H.L. Mencken. There’s nothing humbug about it: when it comes to spreading Christmas cheer, The New Yorker has the best in holiday humor.

A cunning literary creation from cover to cover, The Genealogy of Greek Mythology: An Illustrated Family Tree of Greek Myth from the First Gods to the Founders of Rome isn’t the hefty tome you might imagine. Surprisingly streamlined thanks to its clever fold-out format, this ingenious volume presents the complete history of the Greek gods, untangling their complex backgrounds through an easy-to-follow family tree that’s enhanced by maps, biographies of major mythological figures and synopses of important events. The volume is printed on durable card stock and folds up neatly, accordion-style, to fit into an attractive, sturdy storage box. Read it one panel at a time, or fan it out to its full length of 17 feet for a complete picture of an ancient civilization. The mastermind behind this innovative project is Vanessa James, a professor of theater at Mount Holyoke College. Featuring a multitude of visuals, including more than 100 color photographs of Greek and Roman paintings, mosaics and sculptures, The Genealogy represents 18 years of research on her behalf and draws on the works of Hesiod, Sophocles and Homer, as well as other sources. With more than 3,000 listings for lofty deities, abominable monsters and humble humans, it’s a perfectly heavenly gift.

In his latest work of nonfiction, Ron Powers returns to his hometown of Hannibal, Missouri, to investigate two senseless killings committed in the span of six weeks by two pairs of disaffected teenagers. Could the violence have been prompted by the social changes taking place in this most American of cities? Hannibal is, after all, the idyllic birthplace of Mark Twain’s mischievous-but-moral duo, Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn. How could the savagery manifested in the killings, Powers wonders, be nourished and countenanced here? The co-author of Flags of Our Fathers inspects the fabled town on several levels (and with a news photographer’s eye for detail) in Tom and Huck Don’t Live Here Anymore. First, Hannibal is a crime scene with victims and perpetrators to be interviewed and trials to be attended and reported on. Then, there are the town’s historical stages to consider: Hannibal as it is today, as it was in the 1950s when Powers was growing up, and its history as a frontier settlement in Twain’s youth and as a bustling trade center when he returned many years later an established literary lion.

But Powers is more than a visiting sociologist. He brings with him his own variously shaded memories. While he recalls many sunny moments, he dwells on his emotionally distant father and returns time and again to his ill-fated younger brother, with whom he was never able to form a warm bond. The persisting dark spot in the book is the alteration of the American family as is clearly evident in Hannibal with children being raised in dawn-to-dark daycare centers and parents divorcing and pursuing their own frantic personal agendas.

It should surprise no one that Powers fails to come up with any satisfying answers to his queries about cause and effect. They are simply too cosmic for neat resolution. The value of his book lies in the fact that, by posing these questions, he nudges us toward assessing our own Hannibals and the latter-day Toms and Hucks playing videogames or assembling arsenals in the next room.

Edward Morris writes from Nashville.

“I can not live without books,” Thomas Jefferson once wrote. Avid readers Sara Nelson, Nancy Pearl and Michael Dirda happily share the celebrated statesman’s sentiment. From tales of childhood to thoughts on Tolstoy and Twain, a trio of new books by these literature lovers reflects the perks and quirks of their page-turning obsession. Recreation for some, therapy for others, books can enrapture, enrage, envelop and amaze as these talented authors demonstrate.

“Books get to me personally,” says New York Observer publishing columnist and self-proclaimed readaholic Sara Nelson. “When things go right, I read. When things go wrong, I read more.” In her new book, So Many Books, So Little Time: A Year of Passionate Reading, Nelson takes the reader along for a year’s worth of literature and life, offering funny, wise commentary on the ways in which the two intersect. Nelson, who had originally intended to select 52 books for 52 weeks of reading, says her plan fell apart almost immediately. “In reading, as in life, even if you know what you’re doing, you really kind of don’t,” she says. In week one, she set out to read Ted Heller’s Funnymen, a book about stand-up comics, while staying in a Vermont home once owned by Alexander Solzhenitsyn. But Heller’s gags didn’t play well in the snowy, somber setting, says Nelson. From that point forward, she says, books seemed to choose her as much as she chose them. So Many Books, So Little Time is jam-packed with memorable moments, including the unlikely writing lessons gleaned from culinary bad boy and Kitchen Confidential author Anthony Bourdain. Perhaps most memorable of all are Nelson’s musings on a reader’s right to stop reading a book he or she doesn’t like: “It’s the literary equivalent of a bar mitzvah or a communion,” says the author. “The moment at which you look at yourself and announce: Today I am an adult. I can make my own decisions.'” For the record: Nelson now allows herself to toss disappointing tomes at page 20 or 200.

For many, reading is escapism. For writer and Seattle librarian Nancy Pearl, books were nothing short of salvation. Raised in a lower-middle class neighborhood in Detroit, Pearl says her family defined dysfunction long before the label came to be. “All I knew then was that I was deeply and fatally unhappy,” says Pearl, author of Book Lust: Recommended Reading for Every Mood, Moment and Reason (Sasquatch, $16.95, 304 pages, ISBN 1570613818). During childhood and early adolescence, Pearl sought refuge at the Parkman Branch Library, where friendly librarians introduced her to books resonating with realities far brighter than her own. “It is not too much an exaggeration if it’s one at all to say that reading saved my life,” she says. Providing recommendations and revelations for more than 100 categories of books, from “Road Novels” and “Russian Heavies” to “Fabulous First Lines” and “Food for Thought,” Pearl’s approach is direct. The author of several professional books for librarians, including Now Read This, she highlights some of her favorite scribes in the category “Too Good to Miss,” offering an eclectic assortment of authors, including Robert Heinlein and Jonathan Lethem. With its short, snappy chapters, Book Lust is a must for any serious reader’s bedside table, a literary nightcap sure to prompt sweet dreams. “All that kid wants to do is stick his nose in a book,” lamented steelworker Eugene Dirda about his son Michael, a shy, bespectacled boy who preferred the pages of Thoreau to dating or sports. From humble beginnings in the Ohio rust belt town of Lorain to a top post at one of the nation’s most prestigious newspapers, Dirda’s world has always percolated with words. Both witty and wistful, An Open Book: Coming of Age in the Heartland (Norton, $24.95, 320 pages, ISBN 0393057569) pays homage to a bookish youth spent in small-town America. Woven throughout the text are references to books and authors who inspired, intrigued and rankled Dirda, who is now Senior Editor for The Washington Post Book World.

Dirda gives a grateful nod to the educators and friends who influenced him in his early adult years. The Pulitzer Prize-winning columnist also makes peace with the man he considered impossible to please: “I forgave my father everything: He could be overbearing and worse, but his soul-deadening labor gave me the time to read and to know that my life would be privileged compared to his.” Books, it seems, can also offer redemption. Allison Block writes from La Jolla, California.