NOVEL APPROACH TO ROMANCE THE GIFT OF A BOOK WILL PUT LOVE INTO WORDS.

Byline: STEVE YOUNG

WE'RE one day away from Valentine's Day, folks. They'll tell you it's a couples holiday, about the relationship between a man and woman. And it is - if a man wants to keep his relationship with his woman, he'd better come up with something big. February 14 is about as much a man's holiday as Mother's Day is.

But take heart, guys. Valentine's Day can go - apologies to those fighting for the ``marriage is only between a man and a woman'' amendment - both ways.

First, you have to understand that it's about love - you know, the word women use in place of ``sex.'' Men struggle with expressing it as if the mere utterance would dissolve us into a pink and frilly netherworld never again to receive a bar stool down at Moe's. Remember that love deals with passion. Something a person would go to war for. Something men understand. Have you ever tried to stand between a guy and a TV on Super Bowl Sunday?

However, to make the ``love'' word palatable, you have to understand the very import of words. And if I might be permitted a bit of contrivance in this clumsy segue, what better way is there to show your love than in a gift of words. Not only in a card - but a book.

Oh, you'll still have to hunt for that perfect Hallmark card that says all things you'd like to say, but if you did you would sound like, well, a Hallmark card. She wouldn't believe it if you spoke those words anyway.

(Warning here: Never buy one of those ``funny'' cards for Valentine's Day. Trust me. A woman wants to tear up reading her card - from being touched, not ribbed. A sense of humor is near the top of the list for holding on to a lady. Just not on this day.)

A book says much more than a card. About 300 pages more, which will make it last way longer than flowers or chocolate (which she'll end up blaming you for the weight she'll gain and you'll end up eating anyway). It's hard to explain, but it's much more convincing to attach your sentiment to Ernest Hemingway than to Susan Polis Shutz.

A card transforms the moment. A book transforms the reader. A card can say ``I Love You.'' A book can show what love means.

A card is a short-lived thought. A book, a long-term investment, one that lingers on way past Valentine's Day.

Even if she's a speed reader, a book doesn't get boxed in that old trunk in the garage that won't get opened again until she's sitting on the bed reading it after you're long gone. A good book remains on the bedroom shelf reminding her of your charm and affection. It doesn't even have to be a romantic book, because all good books have heart.

A card says what you might want to say. A book says who you are. It doesn't even have to be about you. Believe me, she'll make the connection.

Give her ``A Knight in Shining Armor'' by Jude Defraud, and you'll always be that to her. Any book with the word ``Titanic'' in it will make you her DiCaprio.

There's something about a guy willing to die to show his love that turns a woman every which way. ``The Private World of the Duke and Duchess of Windsor'' by Hugo Vickers is a book about a guy who was willing to give up his throne for a woman. It's almost as good as sacrificing your life for love.

Oh, there is one more thing. Embarrassment. Nothing says ``I love you'' more than the pure willingness to embarrass oneself publicly in the display of love. You know that obnoxious commercial where the guy stands in a Roman square and scares the heck out of the pigeons by screaming, ``I love this woman!'' To make it worse, in the next commercial the guy even pays to bring her parents over to re-state his wedding vows. Now I'm not asking you to be as stupid as to bring your in-laws on a romantic vacation with you, but there is another, easier humiliation.

The kids down at Ivy Academia Charter School in Woodland Hills needed to fill the empty shelves in their new library. Without the money to buy books, they made February ``I Love Reading Month.'' Parents (including men parents) were asked to go through their homes and garages to dig out books and tapes, then donate them to the school's library. Here's the kicker: Parents have to dress in book character costume and come to the school to read their donated books to their children's class.

I'm not saying that you should read the book to your best girl. You could, but you'll probably just fall asleep by the second paragraph. What I'm suggesting is that you dress up in a character found in the book you give her.

A little too much? Perhaps. But it works like a charm. When I proposed to my wife, dressed as William Shakespeare, I gave her a copy of ``Romeo and Juliet'' with an engagement ring hidden inside.

To be honest, since it was at a costume party, most people ignored me. Still, my wife thinks it was the most romantic thing she's ever seen. My kids are probably sick of hearing the story, but my wife doesn't seem tired of telling it.

It really doesn't have to be all that difficult. If you give her a book by Mark Twain, dress up like Tom Sawyer. Something by John Grisham: a lawyer. ``Gone With The Wind,'' a bloodied and defeated Confederate soldier. ``Harry Potter,'' Harry Potter. Not a big effort, really. Those Potter glasses are a dime a dozen after Halloween.

Too much of an effort? If your wife or girlfriend doesn't think you're the most adorable man who ever lived, she probably was already making plans to leave you. As an extra benefit, the gift of a book is a great example to our children of how deeply important reading can be.

And if that isn't a great gift for any parent, male or female, then you just want to just spend Valentine's Day at Moe's - alone.

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