Applying the I.O.U. Principle of Literature
The Dicey Art of Choosing New Novels to Read
In a previous Weekly Wonderings post, I articulated what I call my “I.O.U. Principle” as one way to guide me in choosing new literature to read. (The other way is through recommendations from trusted friends.) Here are the elements of that principle:
(1) Intriguing: The character descriptions need to indicate depth and subtlety, and the plot needs to sound compelling.
(2) Original: Even timeless themes and plots need to suggest a fresh approach.
(3) Uplifting: I adore a well-told Hero’s Journey and yearn to see protagonists face and overcome various internal and external challenges as they grow into the best versions of themselves.
There is no guarantee that I’ll like a book I choose based on I.O.U., but it sure increases the odds. Since the time of that previous post, several people have asked me what it looks like to apply the principle.
This post briefly reports on how I applied this principle to a book I recently selected from a Little Free Library: Diary of a Tuscan Bookshop, by Alba Donati (2022, trans. from Italian by Elena Pala). This book is written in diary format, which is not my usual fare, but because of what I write below, I’m willing to give this one a shot. (Note: I’ve not yet read this book, so this is not a recommendation of the book.)
Here are a few highlights of the process I went through in applying the I.O.U. Principle to choose this book to add to the growing stack on my nightstand. I advise you first to read the blurb on the back of the book cover pictured above, so that what I say below makes more sense:
The I-aspect: Alba sounds like a person with a good head on her shoulders, knows what she wants, and is willing to take risks. This makes her likeable and interesting to me. I’m also wondering about her career pivot and why it’s supposedly “doomed from day one,” so I’m intrigued about what’s going on there and want to find out more.
The O-aspect: Because Alba seeks to try her hand at something new after a successful career elsewhere, I’m curious about why she chooses to go back to her hometown to do this. Will this be a “you can’t go home again” spin on the Hero’s Journey? Or a “finding yourself where it all began” tale? Or “wherever you go, there you are”? Or something else?
The U-aspect: In addition to getting a hint from the back cover blurb that Alba faces some sort of obstacle (“doomed from day one”), I was also provoked by a brief snippet of dialogue included inside the front matter before the book begins:
“Romano, I’d like to open a bookshop where I live.”
“How many people are we talking about?” . . .
. . . “Just a hundred and eighty.”
“Alba . . . Have you lost your mind?”
It sounds like Alba has her work cut out for her: new endeavor, small customer base, a friend dubious of her chances of success. Does she have what it takes to meet these challenges? What will we—and Alba—learn about her during this daunting process? I’m already rooting for her.
Bonus: Finally, who says cover art doesn’t matter? Not me. As a bibliophile, of course I was drawn not only to a novel about books and a bookshop, but also the ambiance of the pictured bookshop. From the charming Italian countryside we get a peek of through the open window and the colorful riot of flowers to the presence of a regal-looking cat, fresh fruit, and a cup of tea, how can one resist? I can hardly wait to get to know this bookshop.
