Aaron Gilbreath: The Last Book I Loved, Ray
I used to think I was somewhat daring as a reader, but apparently I was not. After reading Barry Hannah’s story collection Airships, I bought five of his other books in a flurry of excitement; then they sat there on my shelf. For three and a half years I plucked volume after volume from my crowded library, pecking around Hannah’s titles like a chicken avoiding the pebbles mixed in with the seed. Part of me yearned to delve in Geronimo Rex and Bats Out of Hell, but they intimidated me. The memory of reading Airships felt much like my body felt following a strenuous hike: elated from the invigorating challenge, yet too fatigued to do anything but rest. Why all the fuss? The language. …more

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