When I was growing up, there was music all over my house, all the time. My father fiddled, so there were often the strains of grass-roots country coming from his bedroom; my mother liked Sinatra, so she would likely be humming "Fly Me To the Moon" while washing dishes; my sister was besotted with the Beatles, so the sounds of the British invasion would be creeping under her door sill. I became an amalgamation of them all--so I am equally at home and in love with Cole Porter, Hank Williams or Joni Mitchell.

In this enchanting essay, Amor Towles gives us a glimpse into his musical influences and how they shaped his dreams and his future. I grow a little more in love with this man each time I read the words he writes.

Another day to owe a debt of gratitude to Cheri for passing this along:


Read it here ( )

Towles talks of his love for Ella Fitzgerald's Cole Porter Songbook, which he discovered through his father as a teenager in Boston. He also speaks of going to Bogart double features with his father--what a great upbringing he seems to have had, and perhaps it shows in his nostalgic but always meaningful and insightful fiction. ( )