This book has a special spot in my heart. John Irving is a favorite for sure, but two years ago I found myself in Spain having never read A Prayer for Owen Meany. One cool October night I bumped into a fantastic used book shop near la Plaza Mayor. (Literally, I tripped and fell onto the stoop.) The English language section was huge and I picked up Owen Meany and plopped my 2 Euro down on the counter.

When I think of this book, I think of long metro rides. I think of the countless fountains I leaned against while devouring the pages that told of Owen Meany’s plight. I think of the inscription inside the cover: “read and remember.”

Happy Reading,

J

For a review, see: 52books