LaPorte, Indiana by Jason Bitner and The Lone Surfer of Montana Kansas by Davy Rothbart

In the vein of things I like, which is as good a thing as any to write about, I would like to honor our neighbors to the north. No, not Canada. Some fellows from Ann Arbor, Michigan who are just about the most interesting and creative people I've run across.

Davy Rothbart and Jason Bitner are the creators and editors of Found Magazine. If you haven't had a chance to visit the website, please do so now. I will wait for you... See now, wasn't that cool? I highly recommend getting your hands on a copy of the magazine though, it is even more interesting than the website.

Both Rothbart and Bitner have recent "solo" projects that are every bit as good as Found.

Jason Bitner has recently published LaPorte, Indiana, a lovely, thoughtful glimpse into the heyday of a small Midwestern town. LaPorte is composed entirely of photographs--studio portrait proofs which span the 1950's and 60's.

It would have been all too easy for Bitner to publish a snarky, post-modern book that points out the lapses of fashion sense, hickishness, and just basically mocks the folks of LaPorte for our amusement.

But what Bitner has done is present these photos as little trinkets, little shards of other people's life without judgement, or comment. These little bits of ephemera can help us see the humanity in the extras that wander through the movie of our life. LaPorte gives us glimpses at the beginnings, middles and sometimes ends of stories, from people frozen at a moment in time, a moment they wanted to memorialize.

As a committed Midwestern gal myself, I felt the tug of home while reading this book, and once again was captivated by the beauty and life that surrounds us here in the heartland. No less than John Mellencamp, whom I respect greatly has said about LaPorte: “These are real people. The grace and dignity one sees in their faces should be a source of hope for us all.” I second that emotion, and encourage you to take a look

Davy Rothbart has released a collection of short stories, The Lone Surfer of Montana, Kansas.

This isn't to say that you won't laugh out loud while reading this book, Rothbart does an admirable job balancing pathos with just enough humor to keep it bearable, but not enough to make light, so that when the whole thing comes crashing down you are stunned by the suddenness and inevitability of it.

A wonderful book by a writer with a sure, clear voice and a command of the tricky language of non-preachy salvation. You can easily read this book in an afternoon, but you'll be thinking about it for days to come.

So, although I fear this will get me run out of Columbus on a rail, I tip my hat to the boys from Ann Arbor, and look forward to hearing much more from both of them.

Devil In the Details by Jennifer Traig

I'm not a great one for memoirs but as Jennifer Traig writes about a subject that affects several people I know, I simply couldn't resist.

Anne Lamott once said that what the world needed were more funny books about dealing with serious subjects (her book Hard Laughter is a case in point) Thankfully, Jennifer Traig has come along with just the funny book I needed.

As the subtitle "scenes from an obsessive girlhood" implies, Jennifer Traig has Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD). She has bouts with a particularly nasty strain--scrupulosity, which is driven by severe and rigorous religious standards.

From several whirls with anorexia, to a personal strain of Judaism so strict she can't bathe for three weeks, eat meat and milk on the same day, or use the letter x (it's a cross, and to touch it means you've converted to Christianity) Traig describes it all from the inside. You wouldn't expect the next words out of my mouth to be "I laughed so hard my chest hurt" but that is in fact the truth.

With her ever changing compulsions, Traig gets herself into some pretty ridiculous situations, and she laughs right along with us. She hints at the unhappiness that (I can assure you) a teenager with OCD feels, and at family strife over her ever changing illness, but she doesn't dwell on it. Far from making fun of OCD, or glossing over the very real consequences of her behavior, Traig is looking fondly at her childhood--as any woman in her thirties would. The only difference is that most women in their thirties don't have memories of compulsory, hours-long, desperate tea rituals with stuffed animals. She is tender with both herself and her family, and the mistakes that, with the gift of hindsight, we can see they made in dealing with her disease. As she points out though, it was the mid-70's and OCD wasn't widely recognized. Through all the hand-washing, rituals, and miles and miles of paper towels the Traigs are held together by love.

As someone who lives with OCD, I know it is difficult to handle, and even harder to explain. Why am I tying and re-tying my shoes 15 times? I have no idea, but believe me, it looks more fun than it is. One of my own personal best answers to the persistent musical question: "Why don't you just stop that?" has always been "Sure. Just as soon as you just stop growing." Now I think I'll give this book to some people in my life, and maybe we can finally laugh our way to understanding each other.