Have there always been numbers in book titles? Recently, every 10th book that arrives from a publisher seems to be a list. There are the “1,000 Places to See Before You Die” books, the latest, confined to spots in the USA and Canada (Workman, $20), a threat that this series is just beginning. Even the author, Patricia Schultz, acknowledges how irritating her project is in the introduction to the new one. “My previous book,” she writes, “was already keeping folks awake at night.” This seems to be just a scheme to round up the usual suspects. Where does Schultz send people who come to Memphis on their don’t-die-before mission? Graceland, the Beale Street Music Festival, the National Civil Rights Museum and two “places” called “The Memphis Music Scene” and “Memphis Barbecue.”
I much prefer the aesthetic of National Geographic’s “The 100 Best Worldwide Vacations to Enrich Your Life” ($20). I opened it up to “Earn your elephant driver’s license,” which explains an elephant wrangling course at a camp in Thailand’s Golden Triangle. There are chapters on trekking the Sahara Desert with a camel caravan, ballooning over the Swiss Alps, walking in the footsteps of Alexander the Great in Turkey. And each section provides information about getting in touch with the people who run the services and how much they cost.
There is a volume called “1,001 Books You Must Read Before You Die,” edited by Peter Boxall (Universe, $35). The title sounds like a provocation, and a story by William Grimes in The New York Times included a quote by Boxall saying he did in fact want to make people “furious” to encourage debate. I’m all for debates that galvanize readers, but should titles be there solely for that purpose? As Grimes said: “Not only is it not necessary to read “Interview With the Vampire” by Anne Rice before you die, it is also probably not necessary to read it even if, like Lestat, you are never going to die.” Good one.
And why add the 1 to 1,000? It’s already arbitrary to limit the world’s great novels to 1,000; adding 1 is capricious.
There are some topics that might as well be reduced to a list: Houghton Mifflin just published “135 Tips on Email and Instant Messages” ($8). It might have a couple of interesting moments. I didn’t open it. I’m overwhelmed by e-mails every day; I’m not going to read about improving my e-mailing skills.
And watch out for (as in, stay away from) these books by the numbers published by Jeremy P. Tarcher/Penguin. “The Art of Being: 101 Ways to Practice Purpose in Your Life” ($23) starts at No. 1 a couple of pages on What Gift Do I Bring? No. 5 is Things Don’t Change, We Do. No. 6: What Is Your Message to the World? No. 7: Elvis Has Left the Building. That, it turns out, is an admonishment not to follow the path of Elvis impersonators — “The one thing they had in common was that they were each trying to be someone they were not.”
This other Tarcher book actually made me mad: “The Only 127 Things You Need (A Guide to Life’s Essentials) by Donna Wilkinson, ($15). I picked it up because it reminded me of an Esquire magazine story I read years ago by a guy who tried to limit what he owned to a certain number, it may have been 1001. He counted each fork and spoon, each plate, a pair of shoes counted as one thing, I think. The story illustrated how uncontrollable our material lives are. But “127 Things” has no rigor and underpinning. In fact, I never could really find its numbering system. The large divisions are Body, Mind and Spirit. The Body sections are about things like exercise, sleep, nutrition. Under “A Healthy Mind” there are such topics as “The Ability to Be Real.” And under Spirit, there are entries on reflection, purpose, meaningful ritual.
So this “guide to life’s essentials” tells us in the same chirpy, didactic voice that every (woman) needs: “Tops…. camisoles, shells, tanks, tube tops, or T-shirts, whatever you prefer. You can’t have enough of them in your wardrobe.” And: “The ability to be real” by using “Honest self-relection…. The capacity to express and feel uncomfortable emotions…. Acceptance of self and others….”
It’s included among the 127 things on my desk that I don’t need.