I’m an immersive sort of traveler, the type who reads books set where I wash up. That was me, the backpacking college cliché, lost in Mary McCarthy’s “Venice Observed’’ in the watercolor light of Saint Mark’s Square. And that was me, reporting from North Dakota, undone by Ole Rölvaag’s “Giants of the Earth.’’ It’s a kind of double raptness: To feel alive to a place as you gaze up from a book - and fall back into its pages. If you’re vacationing hereabouts this month, put down “The Help’’ or “Unbroken,’’ and try reading for place instead.
Maine Start with a classic, Sarah Orne Jewett’s “The Country of the Pointed Firs,’’ first published in 1896, which Henry James called her “beautiful little quantum of achievement.’’ Rudyard Kipling one-upped him: “Immense,’’ he exclaimed. Immense or quantum, Jewett’s plainsong sketches of Mainers living by “the rocky shore and the dark woods’’ still shine.

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