Brainpan Overload.

Recently, just three days ago, I was chatting with someone at my place of employment, and I discovered that he too, was an avid reader, like me.
Whenever I discover such a thing, I usually begin to chatter a bit excessively... I probably go overboard a bit, because I get so excited about anything having to do with books.
For reasons too lengthy and boring to get into, I am no longer working alongside this person. It was a temporary set up. I will call him Leo.
After bantering back and forth about literature for a while, Leo asks me a very simple question.
“So what’s your favorite book?”
And that shut me right up! [Maybe that was the plan?]
Seriously though, I do almost nothing else in my life except read, talk to my cat, and write. And that is no exaggeration. Other than going to work every day, this is all I do. Sit in coffee shops and read and write, like I am doing right now, after work. I am at Starbucks.
So.
You would think that answering that question of Leo’s would be almost kneejerk-ish, second-nature.... an answer flying forth without the need to even think about it.
But I found (and I find) that in actuality, the opposite is the case.
Because I have read so many books, it is difficult to pick one that is a favorite.
I mean, even mathematically, if a person has read ten books, it is not that difficult to pick a favorite. But what if they’ve read a hundred? And then a thousand? Choosing one from among these thousand becomes problematic.
I suppose if a book really and truly and profoundly moved you in a very memorable way, you would never sort of forget its placement at the top of the pile. For instance, when I hesitated and stared at the ceiling, Leo quickly seized the seconds of silence to tell me his favorite book.
It was Birdsong, by Sebastian Faulks.
Me, staring at the ceiling.......
Finally I did answer him, but it is only now, just minutes ago really, that I tripped over the perfect phrase, to define the condition which caused my hesitation, three days ago.

Brainpan Overload.

And where did I get such a phrase? Well, I added the last word “overload” to the “brainpan” concept mentioned in the book I have just started reading tonight. The book is Anne Lamott’s Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life.
So far I think it is one of the best things I have ever read about the writer’s life.
[See? Now this will add greater confusion at a later date, when someone asks me what is the best book about writing that I have ever read!]
Lamott, in the first chapter, says:

When I had been writing food reviews for a number of years, there were so many restaurants and individual dishes in my brainpan that when people asked for a recommendation, I couldn’t think of a single restaurant where I’d ever actually eaten.

Bingo!
I read that, a few minutes ago, and realized that this is the very thing that happens to me when someone asks me about my favorite book.
I’ve read so many things, it LITERALLY boggles my mind, and I find it tough to answer the simplest question! And I complicate matters by thinking thoughts like “What does the word favorite mean?”
I apologize ahead of time if the answer I am going to give you here is not unique enough.... but.... for me, my favorite book of all has to be either War and Peace, or Anna Karenina, and if I’ve got to choose only one, I’ll say Anna.
I’ve read it twice and I would gladly read it again, ad infinitum.
I am a real Tolstoy fan when it comes down to it.
I can’t recall reading anything quite as exquisite as Anna K. For me, I find that I am more in love with the Levin and Kitty thread, in the story, than the Vronsky and Anna thread. Also, the book contains my favorite final chapter of any book I have ever read, and even more specifically, my favorite final paragraph!
There.
This is my answer.
After wrestling with a severe bout of brainpan overload.
How about you?
Tell me. What is your favorite novel of all time?

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