May in Review — Lit Chat Vol. 19
Hi friends,
It’s humid and sticky in Brooklyn, the cicadas are out in Chicago, and my favorite lavender lemonade is back at the Center For Fiction, which can only mean one thing: summer has officially arrived. While I do not work a job that enables me to take the summer off, spiritually, I am poolside at the Lake Forest Club eating chicken tenders and playing Bananagrams while I wait for a tennis lesson (real ones know).
This means that brainpower is at seasonal low, and since I’m also preparing for another travel-heavy summer, Lit Chat might take a lil break again in the next month or two! So if you don’t hear from me for a couple months, don’t worry, I’ll be back eventually. I’ve famously never been able to go too long without homework.
But for now, we still have the best part of summer to look forward to: summer reading! If you prefer to get this post straight to your inbox, remember to subscribe for my Substack here:
Let’s get into it, shall we?
THE FOUNDATION:
Atomic Habits — James Clear
I first put this book on hold at the library like six months ago, which checks out as that aligns with the New Year’s pressure to be a better version of myself whose routine does not consist solely of sourdough grilled cheeses and 100+ hours of Stardew Valley gameplay. By the time Atomic Habits got to me, though, I’d kicked my Stardew addiction and signed back up for ClassPass, so I was basically already a healthy habit queen. I also felt like I’d seen a lot of Clear’s tips and suggestions for habit-forming/routine creation regurgitated on TikTok already, so I didn’t get a whole lot out of the book that felt totally new to me. That said, this is still probably a solid place to start if you feel like it’s time for a lifestyle adjustment or a mental reframe, but need some help breaking that change down into more manageable pieces.
Anita de Monte Laughs Last — Xochitl Gonzalez
What intrigued me most about this novel was that I had seen it marketed as based on a true story: that of the Cuban-American artist Ana Mendieta, who died after “falling” out of the window of her 34th floor apartment in 1985. It’s apparent that Gonzalez borrowed heavily from Mendieta’s life to tell Anita de Monte’s story, as the details of Anita’s artwork and career, her tumultuous marriage to a well-known male sculptor, and her controversial death are lifted almost exactly from Mendieta’s life. I enjoyed the parallel story of a young art history student at Brown who rediscovers de Monte’s work while in a similarly difficult relationship, but I found it off-putting that the author does not properly credit or even mention Mendieta at all in the book beyond a dedication “For Ana.” For a book whose most prominent message is that women lose their power when they/their work are forgotten, something about this omission just didn’t sit right with me.
A Wizard of Earthsea — Ursula K. Le Guin
I had a couple of long flights this month and panicked when I realized the physical books I’d brought with me might prove insufficient (they did), so I downloaded the audiobook for A Wizard of Earthsea after being recommended it as a great starting place for Le Guin’s work many, many times. Audiobooks are a perfect distraction for my nerves while traveling, especially when they’re narrated by old British men who do all the voices like they’re reading me a bedtime story. At its core, A Wizard of Earthsea is a story about the power of words, a power that guides a young boy’s journey to learn enough magic to face the darkness inside of him. While I didn’t find it quite as immersive as some of the other fantasy worlds I’ve been craving lately, I do find it impressive that with its publication in 1967, Le Guin essentially managed to single-handedly rebrand the genre of fantasy as literature that could be accessible to all ages, not just kids. (Unrelated but forever relevant: Le Guin’s daily routine, which I think about probably once a day.)
SOLID SUPPORTS:
Hotel Splendide — Ludwig Bemelmans
I read the entirety of Hotel Splendide on a flight to San Francisco, and was wholly charmed by Bemelmans’ depiction of the New York hotel scene in the 1920s. Each chapter is a vignette from Bemelmans’ time working in an upscale hotel before his Madeleine fame, and his written descriptions of the hotel’s characters somehow match his drawing style exactly: slightly caricature-esque, but drawn with such vulnerability and a flair for absurdity that they feel immediately familiar and beloved.
What delighted me just as much as the truly ridiculous cast of characters (eccentric employees and neurotic guests alike) was the attention to detail and finery that just feels like it doesn’t exist anymore, or maybe only exists outside my tax bracket. The Hotel Splendide’s scrupulous commitment to five-star service was a sharp contrast to the sterility of my Hilton stay, where I checked myself in and out on my phone and the only time I spoke to someone was when the buffet attendant told me breakfast would be a flat $34. If given a choice between the two, I know where I’d rather stay.
The Heaven and Earth Grocery Store — James McBride
I read James McBride’s Deacon King Kong back in January 2023 and deeply admired the way he managed to portray the vibrancy of whole communities as richly as singular characters, weaving their stories together across decades and generations. McBride pulls off a similar feat in this novel, when the fates of the Jewish immigrant and African American communities living side by side in Chicken Hill, Pennsylvania in the 1930s become intertwined over the fate of a young deaf Black boy.
The story primarily follows the lives of Moshe and Chona, a Jewish couple who run the town’s dance hall and grocery store, respectively, and their Black hired helpers, Nate and Addie. When Nate and Addie’s nephew Dodo is delivered into an abusive mental institution at the hands of the town doctor, a vindictive KKK leader who resents the changes that decades of immigration have brought to Chicken Hill, it will take the entire community to bring Dodo to safety again. Each character has a role to play and a life as vividly realized as the next, all done with McBride’s signature humor, compassion, and empathy. The book begins and ends with a skeleton in a well, but this mystery takes a backseat to the daily dramas and intimacies of life in this uniquely engaging community.
THE TIPPY TOP:
A Court of Mist and Fury — Sarah J. Maas
Listen! Listen. No one was a more reluctant Sarah J. Maas convert than me, for no real reason except I saw “faeries” spelled like that and was like, “Ugh, another one of those? Do we need this?” The answer was yes, yes we do need this. After flying through ACOTAR last month, the next obvious choice was to fly through this sequel, which simply had all of the things I love to read about when I don’t feel like using my brain too much. We have enemies to lovers, magical strength training, a brooding, misunderstood hero, and a particularly delicious will-they-won’t-they-ohmygodjustdoitalready situation. And on top of that, there’s actually some pretty impressive worldbuilding going on!
No spoilers, but I love whenever fantasy books expand beyond the first glimpse of the world they give you in Book 1 (the Spring Court/Under the Mountain) to deliver a whole extended universe to accompany the smut (more Courts and new characters!), complete with history, lore, and most importantly, a danger strong enough to threaten everything we’ve fought for so far. Brb, praying my Libby app will deliver Book 3 ASAP before I forget everything that happened in Book 2.
That’s all for now! Signing off to focus on my summer reading (and lounging, mostly lounging), but if you ever want to chat about these or other books, you know where to find me.
Until next time, happy reading!
❤ Catherine
Housekeeping note: all links go to my Bookshop storefront, where each purchase supports independent bookstores (and this newsletter, because I get a small percentage of each sale).
Catherine Thoms 