Anna Quindlen --- or perhaps someone who works for her publisher --- seems to have a curious affinity for the word "loud." Her last two books of collected columns were respectively titled LIVING OUT LOUD and THINKING OUT LOUD. Now comes another serving from the same pot, LOUD AND CLEAR.

A curious choice of word --- for Quindlen does not come across as a loud literary voice. Opinionated, certainly. A forceful writer, absolutely. But "loud" is not the term that comes to mind as you read these reflections on life and living. She writes rather as though Erma Bombeck, Dear Abby, Susan Sontag and Hilary Clinton had somehow been conflated together into a single person. Readable. Entertaining. Thought-provoking. Self-assured. But not "loud."

The 65 short pieces in LOUD AND CLEAR are drawn from her popular columns in the New York Times and Newsweek. Two or three of them are obviously speeches that she delivered on unspecified occasions. They deal, from her own very personal standpoint, with a nicely varied array of subjects, many of them geared especially to women readers: childrearing, feminism, health care, welfare reform, women in the workplace. There are also comments on such issues as gay rights, gun control, the death penalty, school prayer, the sexual problems in today's Roman Catholic church, 9/11 and politics in general. Her stance is pretty much on the liberal side, but she generally avoids the hectoring, sermonizing tone that can alienate even a sympathetic reader.

Certain moments in her personal life seem to bulk large in Quindlen's thoughts --- the early death of her mother, her relationships with her siblings and with her own children, her decision to leave a dream job at the Times to become a freelance novelist. These subjects pop up in different contexts throughout LOUD AND CLEAR. The pieces are not arranged in any chronological order but only loosely by subject matter. The reader must note the date on each one to orient himself. A few of the pieces bear no date, but are still certainly worth reading.

Quindlen is a bright and quotable writer. Even those who may disagree with her views, if they appreciate good writing, will enjoy reading this book. She pleads, for example, for American kids in the midst of their frantic and over-scheduled lives, to be given "the gift of enforced boredom" --- i.e., time to simply sit back, do nothing much and savor the life around them. "From one generation to another," she observes pertly, "the complaint is always the same: They are not like us." You can call this book a bag of literary popcorn, if you wish --- available in bite-size pieces and hard to resist --- but, unlike popcorn, these small essays do make you think about life --- hers and your own.

One of the best pieces in this book is a reflection inspired by a production of Waiting for Godot, in which Quindlen's son was appearing. The lesson drawn from Beckett is that young people should look within themselves, to their own dreams and capabilities, for direction in life, and not wait for the arrival of some external event, person or seal of approval. It is a worthwhile lesson, deftly expressed.

The book is certainly not free from clichés, and Quindlen's reflections on 9/11, written immediately after the event, seem inadequate at a distance of two-plus years --- but so of course do the reflections from that time of many other writers.

Anna Quindlen's large fan club will not be disappointed in this latest potpourri of her pieces. Most of them retain their whimsy and freshness nicely between hard covers. One only hopes that her next collection will not be titled FOR CRYING OUT LOUD.