Tag Archives: i who have never known men

Lit Chat Vol. 30 — September in Review

Hi friends,

October already! I love this time of year because I feel like I fall back in love with reading every fall. Part of it, this year, is that I’m on a journey to drastically reduce my screen time, which I’ll talk more about next month when that journey is complete. But part of it has also been embracing the slowdown of the year by indulging in books and genres I already know I’m going to like.

I was overjoyed to hear at yesterday’s Reading Club that nearly half of the other attendees were feeling the same way, having finally broken out of their reading ruts by leaning into books that were just fun. By reconnecting with genres that were childhood favorites, diving into weird and campy series, or settling in for a couple of excellent page-turners, my friends were finally excited about reading again. Truly nothing makes me happier!!

If you’d like to check out some of the rut-busting books that were shared, I’ve put them in a Bookshop list here:

My reading advice for you today: lean into what you love. Don’t stress about whether it’s lowbrow or uncool. If it gets you off your phone and out of a rut, pick up that YA fantasy or pulpy detective novel and let yourself enjoy it. There’s no bad way to be a reader.

Okay, now that I’ve told you about what my friends have been reading, it’s my turn!! I read a bunch of bangers in September, and 4/6 of them were translations, which seems to be the unintentional theme of this reading year. If you’d like to read this post on Substack, you can do so here:

Otherwise, if you’re sticking around here, buckle up and let’s get this show on the road.

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THE FOUNDATION:

Hurricane Season — Fernanda Melchor, tr. Sophie Hughes

What I’m enjoying most about my office’s translation book club is how it prompts me to read books I never would have picked up on my own. This book opens in a small, rural Mexican town, with the discovery of the town “witch” dead in a local river. Each of the following chapters is narrated by a different community member, but they all revolve around the witch, her influence on the town, and the circumstances of her death. There’s quite a bit more physical and sexual violence than I usually prefer, so this definitely isn’t a book I’d recommend to everyone, but it inspired a thoughtful conversation about how fear and power are so often inextricably linked with gender and social norms. Translated from the Spanish, the prose is vivid and immediate, with long yet momentous sentences that capture your attention and drop you right into the headspace of its characters, making it almost impossible to look away.

The Time of the Novel — Lara Mimosa Montes

I picked this one up at Greenlight Bookstore’s kick-off party to the Brooklyn Book Festival because I simply can’t say no to a slim volume with a colorful cover! At just 88 pages, this funky little novella captures the narrator’s attempt to become just that: the narrator of the story. She quits her job and sublets a temporary apartment in an attempt to remove herself from the world and focus on translating her experiences into narration. A little meta, a little self-indulgent, this would make a great gift for any writers in your life looking to hit their Goodreads goal before the end of the year!

The Funeral Party — Ludmila Ulitskaya, tr. Cathy Porter

I have to confess: for the first time I think ever, I forgot a book in last month’s newsletter! This was actually the August pick for my office book club, and I think because I read it on a plane and then returned it to the library early in the month, it slipped my mind. This forgetfulness is not at all reflective of how much I enjoyed this book, though. Set in a sweltering Manhattan apartment in the middle of summer, the book chronicles the last few days of a dying artist’s life, in which his friends and lovers (all mostly Russian émigrés) have gathered to keep vigil. The eccentric cast of characters is the main delight of this novel, as they range from the angsty to the absurd, united despite their differences by their love for the artist. It’s a moving portrait of immigrant community and an intimate snapshot of 1990s New York, and it handles heady questions of faith and identity with humor and generosity.

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SOLID SUPPORTS:

Queen of Shadows — Sarah J. Maas

I am positively cruising through this series despite the fact that each book seems to be 100 pages longer than the last. They’re technically YA, so it’s fast-paced and easy reading, but also kind of the perfect escapism for these times? Idk, something about the combination of magic, friendship, hot people, and good old-fashioned scheming to take down a big bad villain is really speaking to me right now.

This is book #4 out of 7, so no spoilers, but the deeper we get, the more invested I am in seeing how all the different storylines intersect in the battle for the soul of Erilea. Highlights from this installment include the introduction of new allies and a satisfying series of emotionally charged rescues, reunions, and revenge plots. I’m now committed to finishing the series by the end of the year and am most looking forward to seeing more of the continent beyond Rifthold and Morath in the volumes to come!

On the Calculation of Volume II — Solvej Balle, tr. Barbara Haveland

It was a real fight between this book and the next one for the top spot this month, because both are books that I have consistently been unable to stop thinking about. *Mild spoilers ahead!*

This second volume picks up right where the first left off—still on November 18th. The narrator’s belief that time will reset after a full year of November 18ths has been proven false, so she embarks on a journey to fashion her own year by traveling in pursuit of different seasons.

I really loved the way this book tested both the boundaries of the world as we have come to understand them, as well as our own perceptions of time and seasonality as markers of change and novelty in our own (assumedly still changing) worlds. More often than not, this only created more questions to be answered in future volumes, which I am so deeply here for. I’m obsessed with how complex and far-reaching the implications of this simple idea of a single repeating day have turned out to be, and am truly on the edge of my seat for the next volume to be published on—you guessed it—November 18th, 2025.

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THE TIPPY TOP:

I Who Have Never Known Men — Jacqueline Harpman, tr. Ros Schwartz

Everyone and their mother seemed to be reading this book this summer, so I snagged it from Daunt Books when I was in London last month and bumped it to the top of my list. In the new 2025 afterword by Nick Skidmore, Publishing Director of Vintage Classics, this book is described as The Handmaid’s Tale meets The Road. I think this perfectly encapsulates the specific brand of dystopian haunting this book manages to effect, and explains why it’s now particularly appealing to contemporary readers thirty years after its original French publication.

The teenage narrator of the book does not remember life outside of the underground cage she shares with forty other women, defined by the constant supervision of male guards who dictate their daily routines and interactions. When the guards one day disappear and the women find themselves suddenly and inexplicably freed, they ascend to discover a barren landscape unlike any country any of them can remember.

The journey that follows is one of tragic discovery that produces no real answers to any of the women’s (or the reader’s) questions about where they are or why they’re there. The narrator, having never known any other life, serves as a fascinating yet horrifying foil to the taken-for-granted simplicity of our normal lives, calling into question everything that we have come to accept as truth about love and purpose, the power of community, and the meaning of legacy in an uninhabited world. I know I say this a lot, but this is a book that I genuinely don’t think I will ever be able to stop thinking about, and will probably be up there for one of the best of the year.

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And that’s a wrap on our first leg of fall books! I don’t know about you, but October is where my seasonal reading truly begins to shine. So far, I have The Secret History queued up on audio, and I’ve also pulled Wolf Hall off our bookshelf, inspired by my recent visit to Hilary Mantel’s alma mater, The University of Sheffield. I’m in the market for one good (not too scary!) thriller/horror book to round out the month, and then I think I’ll be satisfied.

What’s on your October reading docket? Anything spooky? Let me know what’s on your TBR in the comments below or in any of the usual places—I’m always down to chat!

Until next time, happy reading!
❤ Catherine

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Housekeeping note: all book links go to my Bookshop storefront, where each purchase supports independent bookstores (and this newsletter, because I get a small percentage of each sale).