I have the thing with Nora Ephron. I hold her close to my bed in place of a year-round four-leaf clover, ever since she published : “I Remember Nothing.”
It hits you right in the face: You too? Thank you, thank you.
The thing is, the title jumped at me right after I had made my New Year’s resolution of –not buying new books for obvious reasons. Two of the less important are that when you have them you don’t read them, and look at your shelves – they shout stop.
Buying was not an option, so I stood on one leg, shifting weight occasionally to the other, and read through the unremembered memoir. It was a stitch, and a complete lie. Nora, obviously, remembered more in that book than had happened to her. She was a lost cause for Memory . Yet, perfect for laughter.
When exiting through the last chapter I couldn’t just put her down. By then, she was a friend. Good for my own memory and self-esteem.
I even remembered she taught me how to chop onion with tearless passion in “Julie and Julia”. And before the onion manual, her “Heartburn” coincided with my pregnancy, which made us kin by digestive system (Nora didn’t know about it, of course, which is a success of secret admiring.)
So, when stopping at JB bookstore last week I saw her leaping daffodil yellow cover with “ I feel Bad About My Neck” on it, I had to think twice: It was o Good Luck Nora, four-leaf clover for you. You wouldn’t do it to me again!
Somehow, the daffodils landed on my night stand anyway. Good luck or not, she still makes you feel better when down on yor luck.