Curl up with a book and let the rain fall where it may.

Byline: The Register-Guard

WHAT DO YOU read in Oregon in the winter? Do you go for bright sunshine scenes, easy-listening love stories, or tightly wound suspense to propel your soul through these days of February gray? Or are you more northern in nature, given to brooding over thick volumes of melancholy and yearning when the weather outside is thick enough to cut with an umbrella?

We asked a handful of Register-Guard writers and editors to pass on their reading secrets for the season of darkness and drear, together with a few specific recommendations. Here's what they had to say.

In the Oregon winter, some people swear by reading literature of the tropics, tales of the sweet Caribbean, epics of the South Seas, as if warming sun can travel though pages.

But escapism isn't in my repertoire. It's cold, dank, sodden February, and I find myself devouring a book about cold, dank, sodden Ireland - possibly because I lived there though a winter, perhaps because humor brightens better than fictional sunshine.

In "McCarthy's Bar," Anglo-Irish writer Pete McCarthy embarks on a two-pronged journey: to make a religious pilgrimage to the aptly named St. Patrick's Purgatory on an island in Lough Derg, off the coast of Donegal; and to learn about his heritage by never passing a bar with his name on it.

Donegal - the wild, northwest core of the island - is a place more remote than even Astoria. So en route to the former mission, McCarthy has plenty of time for research, with believably hilarious results.

McCarthy doesn't find any long-lost relatives in a pub, nor does the rigorous three days of praying and fasting lead to an epiphany. It's all about the journey and the storytelling, both perfectly Irish.

- Elaine Beebe Lapriore, reporter

Here are a couple of good books that will help push aside the Oregon winter blahs and carry you to the Cajun country of southern Louisiana.

They're both by Ken Wells, senior writer and page one features editor for the Wall Street Journal, who grew up on the banks of Louisiana's Bayou Black and has the ear and the know-how to get away with writing books in the voices of a couple of authentic, down-home boys.

First, there is "Meely LaBauve," a coming-of-age story reminiscent in many ways of Mark Twain's Huck Finn. It's about a 15-year-old growing up on the backwaters of Catahoula Bayou. He mostly fends for himself because his dad, an alligator hunter who has frequent brushes with the law, leaves his motherless boy alone much of the time.

Fishing in the swamps, alligator wrestling, discovering the mysteries of the opposite sex, finding a waterlogged body and fights with the schoolyard bully, Junior Guidry, help spice up this delightful Cajun stew.

And when you're done, move on to "Junior's Leg." That's Wells' newest book, with a grown-up Junior Guidry as the protagonist. A darker tale, it begins with Junior losing his leg in an offshore oil rig accident.

Lost in a thick fog of alcohol and despair in a run-down trailer, he is rescued by a mysterious albino woman and becomes her protector as she flees from the clutches of the baddest of Southern bad men.

And yes, a grown-up Meely LaBauve figures into this yarn.

These books are both page-turners, so just kick back on a rainy afternoon and laissez les bon temps rouler. (Remember to look in the back glossary in both books for the explanation of terms such as "loup garou," the Cajun equivalent of a werewolf.)

- Larry Bacon, reporter

Here are two offerings for winter reading:

"The Corrections" by Jonathan Franzen is the story of a mother who tries to bring her dysfunctional family back together for one final Christmas. This is a better pre-holidays read because Christmas figures prominently in the plot, but the characters are vivid (especially Enid, the mother), the writing is crisp and there is satire to go around.

I almost didn't read this book specifically because it ended up on Oprah's book club, but it lives up to the hype it's been getting.

"Kitchen Confidential" by Anthony Bourdain is one New York chef's look at what goes on behind the swinging doors of fine restaurants. Bourdain writes like Hunter S. Thompson, mixing self-deprecating tales of excess with witty generalizations and pull-no-punches assessments of everything around him. His manic style captures the hectic pace of a high-volume kitchen, and you learn all sorts of fun facts about restaurants (don't order fish on Sunday).

It will make you want to spend some time in your kitchen, which makes it a great selection for the dull winter months.

- Lewis Taylor, reporter

Fannie Flagg's "Welcome to the World, Baby Girl" deals with the seamier side of journalism (where unscrupulous informants deliver "hot news tips" - even only half-true ones - for a buck, and news organizations are willing to pay the price).

Even though it's a novel, it seems plausible that some news outfits could behave this way, although I hope it's not common.

The book also involves a bit of a mystery: What happened to Baby Girl's mother and why did she behave so oddly?

The book makes good winter reading because it has some poignantly funny parts that lighten up the dark mood that hangs over us this time of year.

It's also a page-turner. The other night, I told my husband I was feeling tired and would be going to bed as soon as I reached a stopping point in the book. An hour and a half later, he tapped me on the shoulder and asked about that stopping point.

- Suzi Prozanski, copy editor

Winter reading: An almost impossible topic these days as I can barely endure most contemporary fiction in its plotless self- absorption. But I do have a book to recommend - and a movie, as well.

One night last fall, while watching DirecTV, my wife and I blundered into this absolutely compelling, old, black-and-white movie populated almost entirely by midgets and pinheads and a guy with no arms and legs who slithers around on his stomach.

"Freaks" was directed by Tod Browning in 1932. I rented it from Flicks & Pics and watched it again, the whole thing this time - all 65 minutes.

Browning had just released "Dracula" and was at the height of his career when he shot "Freaks," using real freaks in the process, including, I would later find, Prince Ramadan, the guy with no arms or legs but a mouth so dextrous he could roll his own cigarettes with his lips.

In 1932, the world wasn't ready for a story like this - nor was MGM, the prim studio that brought us "Gone With the Wind." Browning's career crashed into dust.

You know how, when you discover something new, it just keeps popping up? A few days after I watched the movie, I was rereading Patricia Bosworth's biography - this is how I read now, the same few familiar books over and over - of photographer Diane Arbus, when I came across this passage:

`Diane returned to see `Freaks' again and again, sometimes with a woman friend, sometimes with De (art promoter Emile de Antonio). Often, they would go in the afternoon and sit in the dark, cavernous, almost empty theater, smoking pot while in front of them beribboned, feeble-minded pinheads cavorted across the screen.'

Arbus loved freaks. "Most people go through life dreading they'll have a traumatic experience," she once said. "Freaks were born with their trauma. They've already passed their test in life. They're aristocrats." She photographed freaks obsessively, even lovingly, to the consternation of critics who accused her of exploitation.

(I don't buy the exploitation angle, myself. Actually, I find Arbus' work extremely respectful - much more so than the polite avoidance that's generally acceptable today regarding physical deformity.)

So what should I find under the Christmas tree but a bizarre and wonderful little book titled "Freaks: We Who Are Not as Others" by Daniel Mannix, "with rare and amazing photos from the author's personal scrapbook."

Mannix himself is the author of "The History of Torture" and "Memoirs of a Sword Swallower." In "Freaks," he writes of famous dwarfs such as the artist Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec as well as lesser known freaks such as Grady Stiles, The Lobster Boy; Arthur Loose, the Rubber-Skinned Man; and Mignon the Penguin Girl.

Don't miss it.

- Bob Keefer, reporter

I'm about halfway through the new Joe DiMaggio biography (`Joe DiMaggio: The Hero's Life' by Richard Ben Cramer) that won the Pulitzer Prize, and it's terrific.

Portions of the book deal with pennant-race drama that is probably of little interest to people who aren't baseball fans.

But the main thrust of the book is about an American legend from a poor, immigrant upbringing who was one of the most recognizable and popular figures of his time (and beyond), who became obsessed with fame and fortune in his mid-20s; and who was unbelievably stoic, most likely extremely lonely most of his life and virtually friendless.

It also acknowledges that he was a gifted athlete with unique skills and a perseverance that has been seldom seen before or since.

- Lloyd Paseman, assistant city editor

I'm just finishing a book of short stories by Annie Proulx called "Close Range: Wyoming Stories."

It's a terrific but bleak collection of fictional stories about the people who struggle to live in Wyoming despite harsh weather and even more difficult economics.

Reading this in the winter will certainly make an Oregonian realize that days of clouds and gray skies can be tiresome, but it sure beats months of harsh, icy wind and snow.

- Scott McFetridge, assistant city editor

"Eco-Economy: Building a New Economy for the Environmental Age" by Lester Brown has a great overview of the environmental, energy, health, business and population challenges facing the world, and suggests constructive, realistic ways to move forward.

"Julius Caesar" by William Shakespeare offers a great political drama-assassination plot. Super dialogue: Yon Cassius has a lean and hungry look. He thinks too much. Such men are dangerous, etc. Who needs Tom Clancy?

Also, "Fast Food Nation" by Eric Schlosser is an extensive expose about how disgusting the fast-food industry is and what a bunch of dim-wits we are for going the fast-food route.

- Christian Wihtol, business editor

I recently read "The Girl With the Pearl Earring" by Tracy Chevalier, a fictionalized account of the life of the enigmatic woman in one of Johannes Vermeer's most famous paintings.

It's a quick read and interesting because I always wonder about who the people in the old masters' paintings really were. And here, Chevalier tries to give us a plausible explanation of one.

It's perfect for bedtime reading on a cold winter night because it's full of color and warmth and the intrigue of personal relationships.

- Randi Bjornstad, reporter