From Proust to Elvis! Elvis! Elvis!

Well, what started as an innocent break from Proust has turned into quite the little trashy Elvis book collection.


Although I dutifully brought The Guermantes Way along on our road trip through the South, I couldn’t resist the temptation to pick up Priscilla’s memoir at Graceland. I do love to read a juicy biography on vacation (viz. The Diana Chronicles while in Vietnam and Dolly: My Life and Other Unfinished Business in Cuba). It was too perfect.

Chinoiserie in the foyer inside.


Meditation Garden outside.

Aboard the Lisa Marie, one of Elvis' several private planes.


But then I happened upon the other two in a junk shop in Macon, GA, and couldn't resist. Proust never really made it out of the suitcase after that. After I finished Elvis and Me while on the road, I read Don’t Ask Forever on the flight back from Nashville. I give Joyce Bova and William Conrad Nowels one star for writing this, and myself one star for reading it.



I have yet to crack open Elvis up close , probably because it’s not a paperback and doesn’t have any shiny embossing on the cover.

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