Yoohoo, Big Summer Blow-out!

June/July/August in review — Lit Chat, Vol. 20

Pyramid of book cover images. Bottom tier: Highfire by Eoin Colfer, The Tombs of Atuan by Ursula K. Le Guin, The Familiar by Leigh Bardugo, and A Court of Frost and Starlight by Sarah J. Maas; Third tier: Family Meal by Bryan Washington, A Court of Wings and Ruin by Sarah J. Maas, and Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead by Olga Tokarczuk; Second tier: The Road by Cormac McCarthy and Either/Or by Elif Batuman; Top: Catch the Rabbit by Lana Bastasic

Hi friends,

It’s September! Thank goodness. I don’t know about you, but this summer really took it out of me. Gone are the days where I could knock out the entire Lake Forest Library summer reading challenge in the span of a couple of days. From what I remember, we were supposed to log our reading in 20 or 30-minute increments, amounting to a total of maybe four hours? That was an easy rainy day for me.

This summer, free half hours have been few and far between, and most of my summer reading was concentrated into plane and train rides or rare, peaceful early mornings before the rest of the AirBnB woke up. I love the flexibility and freedom of summer, and I’m so grateful to have spent the past few months across more than half a dozen cities celebrating friends, family, love, and the joy of being in a new place with your people. That said, I’m exhausted!!! I’m so happy to have spent most of August recovering at home, and I’m so ready to start channeling some much-needed back to school energy into my September.

As you might imagine, this post is a big one! I read ten books over the months of June, July, and August, so for the first time since March 2023, we have an Honorable Mention tier as a ~blog exclusive~. If you usually prefer reading this in your inbox, though, make sure you’re subscribed to my Substack here:

But you’re probably here on the blog for the Honorable Mentions, so let’s get right to it.


HONORABLE MENTION:

Book cover images for Highfire by Eoin Colfer, The Tombs of Atuan by Ursula K. Le Guin, The Familiar by Leigh Bardugo, and A Court of Frost and Starlight by Sarah J. Maas

Highfire — Eoin Colfer

I grew up reading the Artemis Fowl books and was excited to read an adult book by the same author, but disappointingly, this one didn’t do much for me. Highfire is about a young Cajun boy, Squib Moreau who befriends Lord Highfire (aka Vern), the last living dragon hiding out in the Louisiana bayou. The two become unlikely allies when they unite against a rogue cop trying to expose Vern while also aggressively pursuing Squib’s single mother. It was definitely a high-energy story, but the humor was a bit crass for my tastethe kind I usually refer to as “boy humor.” However! Apparently there’s a TV adaptation in the works, with Nicolas Cage executive producing and voicing the dragon?? So you might want to check it out after all. 

The Tombs of Atuan — Ursula K. Le Guin

I decided to make my way through the Earthsea books on audio as travel companions, but the narrator’s voice is so lovely to listen to that if I pop it on right as I’ve settled into my seat for an early morning flight, I’m asleep before we take off. Granted, I don’t sleep well on planes, so it’s more of a twilight half-sleep where the story kind of infuses into my dreams. I’m never quite sure how much of the story I’ve actually retained, but whenever I rewind, I’m like, “Oh, I listened to this already.” Anyway, this second book features a young priestess named Tenar, who meets an adult Ged when she catches him trying to break into her temple. Ged offers her the choice between the path she’s trained for her whole life, and the potential of a future beyond the temple’s walls. I’m still intrigued enough to want to continue listening to these books, but I think a fully awake physical re-read will produce a completely different experience someday.

The Familiar — Leigh Bardugo

Perhaps an unpopular opinion, but I’ve been a bit underwhelmed by Leigh Bardugo’s latest books! I once claimed that if anyone was well-primed to write the next fully immersive fantasy phenomenon ala Harry Potter or Game of Thrones, it would be Bardugo. And yet, I’ve found her more recent books fairly forgettable. Her latest is a historical fiction (which I usually love!) set in the time of the Spanish Inquisition. Luzia, a young servant girl, unintentionally catches the attention of the Spanish court when she’s caught performing small magics in the home of her employer. She is then thrust into the spotlight and forced to compete against other would-be magicians for a position in the royal court, with the help of her wealthy patron’s mysterious—and mysteriously enticing—familiar. I enjoyed it, but as a standalone historical fantasy novel, I didn’t find it as wholly encompassing as I think her earlier fantasy novels were.

A Court of Frost and Starlight – Sarah J. Maas

I’m still confused as to why this book is considered a novella when it’s still the length of a regular book (232 pages)? I mean, it’s not as long as the other books, but still! That’s a normal book-length! Anyway, no spoilers, but this is considered book #3.5 because it’s basically just a little filler story about Feyre and her extended family spending the holiday season in Velaris after the events of the third book conclude. It was sweet and nothing crazy happened, but as much as I enjoy this world and these characters, it also felt a little unnecessary? I’d rather just skip ahead to the next book, but I guess I’ll wait until I read that one to pass judgment on whether or not we needed this one.


THE FOUNDATION:

Cover images for Family Meal by Bryan Washington, A Court of Wings and Ruin by Sarah J. Maas, and Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead by Olga Tokarczuk

Family Meal — Bryan Washington

This was actually the last book I finished in August, and the first contemporary novel that I’d read in a long time—it’s been a big genre summer, as you’ve already seen! This is certainly a novel that will bring you back to the messy beauty of reality. When Cam returns home to Houston from LA after the murder of his boyfriend, he’s not expecting to move back in with his estranged childhood best friend, TJ. But TJ proves to be the lifeline Cam needs when his grief and self-destructive coping behaviors start to overwhelm, and Cam’s newfound presence might just be what TJ needs to reclaim the life he wants, too.

Family Meal is a book about grief, queerness, found family, sex, food, and the many ways our relationships with all of the above can get messed up and heal again with grace and love. This one might be a little more difficult for anyone sensitive to content about eating disorders, addiction, and self-harm, so as Washington’s opening note to the book says: “please be kind to yourself. And go at your own pace. There’s no wrong way to be, and the only right way is the way that you are.”

A Court of Wings and Ruin — Sarah J. Maas

I won’t get into plot details on this one because spoilers, but I will say it had book #5 levels of drama for only being book #3 in the series. Are these the best written books I’ve ever read in my life? Of course not. But the stakes are high, the pace is fast, the characters are hot and in love, and it was just so easy on a jet-lagged, post-work conference brain. I think book #2 is my favorite so far, but this was still a 10/10 reading experience. I’m curious to see where the story goes for book #5, especially knowing that it’s told from a different POV, but there was also enough of a resolution in this one that I feel okay with putting a pause on this series for another month or so.

Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead — Olga Tokarczuk, tr. Antonia Lloyd-Jones

When one sees a Nobel-prize winner in the Vienna outpost of Shakespeare & Co., one buys it!! The narrator of this strange book is the caretaker of a small community of mostly summer homes in the mountains of a remote Polish border town. When she’s not researching her neighbors’ birth charts or translating William Blake’s poetry, she can often be found advocating for the protection of local wildlife against the town’s hunting community.

Upon discovering that one of her eccentric neighbors has choked to death on the bone of a deer he illegally poached, our narrator becomes convinced that the animals are rising up and seeking justice against humans. When two more questionable deaths occur in the neighborhood, the reader is almost inclined to believe her. Part mystery, part slow-burn thriller, this book’s atmosphere stems largely from the narrator herself: rustic and pastoral but not quite cozy, an underlying tension and the suspicion of hidden secrets prevents the reader from getting too comfortable. This would be a great book to help you ease into fall and the onset of spooky reading!


SOLID SUPPORTS:

Cover images for The Road by Cormac McCarthy and Either/Or by Elif Batuman

The Road — Cormac McCarthy

I was not expecting this one to break my heart as much as it did!! The Road came highly recommended from a work friend who had recently read McCarthy’s entire oeuvre, and suggested this one as the best entry point to his work. The Road is a devastating novel about a father’s love for his son as they journey through post-apocalyptic America, surviving not for the promise of a better future—because there isn’t one—but simply for each other.

I was most impressed by McCarthy’s stark, spare prose and no-frills dialogue, how successfully it captured not only the hellscape they traveled through but also the intense, unspoken intimacy and vulnerability between the boy and his father. We don’t know their names or their ages, don’t know what happened to the world or what their life was like before the road, but we understand their secret hopes, fears, and defiant resilience with a rare, gut-wrenching clarity. I cried at the end! That should be endorsement enough.

Either/Or — Elif Batuman

I adored this sequel to Batuman’s The Idiot as much as I adored The Idiot, and am so glad we got to see Selin grow through this next chapter of her story. Now a sophomore at Harvard in 1996, Selin is still processing the strange roller coaster of emotions that last year’s situationship with Ivan sent her on, as she searches for meaning in his actions through the books he studied and through her own course reading list.

When her summer plans bring her to Turkey as a student travel writer, Selin’s coming of age begins in earnest, her travels taking her on adventures of varying success including equally varied encounters with men. An education in culture, sex, and of course, more literature, Selin finally comes into her confidence enough to start separating herself from the influences of the friends, family, writers, and philosophers that have defined her life so far. The former English major in me loved watching Selin experience the revelations of growing up and reconciling life with literature, choosing what to keep with her and what to leave behind, all in the timeless pursuit of living a life worth writing about.


THE TIPPY TOP:

Cover image for Catch the Rabbit by Lana Bastašić 

Catch the Rabbit — Lana Bastašić 

My sweet friend Monique honored me by borrowing my pyramid format earlier this year to review her best books of February and March, and selected Catch the Rabbit as her top choice. Obviously, I had to check it out.

The novel, translated into English from Serbo-Croatian by the author, follows a chaotic road trip undertaken by two childhood best friends, Sara and Lejla, who have not spoken to each other in nearly a decade. The story is divided into the present moment of their road trip, driving from Bosnia to Vienna to find Lejla’s long-lost brother, and the past, in which Sara narrates anecdotes that illustrate the progression of their friendship as children and the starring role Lejla played in Sara’s life and memories.

The author nails the strange familiarity of being around people you knew in childhood now as adults, that weird intimacy of knowing someone’s essence and history so completely and yet feeling like time and physical distance have made you strangers. She also impressively captures the slipperiness of memory, the way certain defining moments can be so supercharged with emotion that it overshadows the truth, creating entirely different versions of a memory for the people who share it.

Like Monique, I finished this book and immediately wanted to dive back in knowing what I had learned throughout the course of the book—which included a lot of history about the Bosnian War that I had simply never known anything about—and reexamine both Sara’s and Lejla’s memories and motivations in a different light. No spoilers, but it’s one of the most perfect endings I’ve read in a long time. Unsettling, emotionally intense, unresolved, and yet somehow it’s completely satisfying, because you realize there was no other way that this particular journey could end. It leaves you literally wanting—not for anything specific, but trapped in a paralyzing moment of desperation: an ache of absence, with the hope of fulfillment slipping through one’s fingers.


And that’s a wrap on my summer reading! I’ll be back in October ready to go full send into spooky reads, my favorite time of the year. Until then, let me know if you want to chat about these or any other books or give me some recommendations for the fall! It’s good to be back.

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).

Taking it Slow — April in Review

Housekeeping note: The links in this newsletter direct you to my Bookshop storefront, where you can purchase all of the books mentioned and support independent bookstores. A small percentage of each sale goes to the Lit Chat tip jar. Thanks for reading!


Book covers for Fruiting Bodies by Kathryn Harlan (top tier); Time is a Mother by Ocean Vuong and The Hurting Kind by Ada Limon (second tier); Babel by R.F. Kuang, Hell Bent by Leigh Bardugo, and A Poetry Handbook by Mary Oliver (bottom tier).

Hi friends,

How is it May already! 2023 feels like it simultaneously just started and has also hit like a ton of bricks.

April was a really busy month, and when things get busy, I find myself constantly thinking “I should be doing/reading/thinking something else right now.” I become overly aware of the limited free hours I have in my week and whether or not I’m using them well. This month, I considered not finishing a book I’d started for the first time in a long time. I walked out of a three-hour movie two hours in. I compared my nightstand TBR pile against my overbooked planner and quietly despaired.

I have a lot of high hopes for my equally busy May, but the biggest one is to try and slow down the calm moments I do have when I have them, without thinking about whether I should be somewhere else. I’m not totally sure where I’m going to find these moments, but I’ll be looking, and I’ll have a book ready for when I do.

Speaking of books, let’s get to it! Also, if you’d prefer to read this post in newsletter form, make sure you’re subscribed here:


The Foundation:

Book covers for Babel by R.F. Kuang, Hell Bent by Leigh Bardugo, and A Poetry Handbook by Mary Oliver

Babel: An Arcane History — R.F. Kuang

Starting with a hot take, but this was my most disappointing read of the year so far. It had so many of my favorite things: history, magic, etymology, Oxford University. In theory, I should have adored all 500+ pages of this book, but I found it so boring! The premise of this fantastical alternate history is that silver bars engraved with translated words function as magic batteries that are powering the Industrial Revolution. Only those fluent in the languages can create the magic, so the story follows a cohort of translation students at Oxford, mostly people of color who were removed from their home countries at a young age and groomed for a career in service to the British Empire. As a result, much of the book grapples with their fraught identities and the moral question of forced loyalty to their colonizer. These issues are valid and important, and the perspectives of people of color from colonized countries are definitely underrepresented in historical fiction, but ultimately, I was underwhelmed by this book and did not think it lived up to the hype.

Hell Bent — Leigh Bardugo

I have a theory that if anyone is going to write another epic fantasy series that has a cultural impact on par with Harry Potter/Game of Thrones, it’s going to be Leigh Bardugo. She’s exceptionally talented, has a track record of appealing to both YA and adult audiences, and is now contractually obligated to churn out a bunch more books. This series, though, is not necessarily going to be it. Hell Bent is the sequel to Ninth House, in which Alex Stern, a girl with the power to see ghosts, is brought to Yale to join a magical secret society. During her freshman year, her mentor gets trapped in Hell during a ritual gone wrong, and most of Hell Bent is spent trying to bring him back. While Alex’s Yale felt more richly three-dimensional than Babel’s Oxford, I didn’t love how much of this already long book felt like a dragging wild goose chase. 0 for 2 on dark academia books this month, sadly.

A Poetry Handbook — Mary Oliver

What did we do to deserve Mary Oliver! If you didn’t know, April was National Poetry Month, and a few friends and I challenged each other to write a poem every day in celebration. Those poems will not be seeing the light of day anytime soon, but I had fun and I especially enjoyed learning about poetry through Mary Oliver’s eyes: pulling famous poems apart line by line, sound by sound, and examining their inner workings to see how and why they are so effective. I came away with a deep respect (and more than a little intimidation) for the craft of poetry, and I would highly recommend this handbook to writers of all kinds.


Solid Supports:

Book covers for Time is a Mother by Ocean Vuong and The Hurting Kind by Ada Limon

Time Is a Mother — Ocean Vuong

This was a poetry collection that I read on paper (Kindle) instead of listening to, which is such a different experience. I do still want to return to this collection on audio because I love hearing poets read their own poems, but seeing them on the page gives one a deeper appreciation for form that gets lost when you’re just listening. Vuong plays with form often in his poems, using their shape as a way to balance and explore the shifting shape of his own identity: as a queer man, a war refugee, a partner, a poet, and in the wake of his mother’s death, a son. His grief is the driving force of this collection—one of my favorite poems is merely a list of everything his mother ordered from Amazon in the last year of her life—and it completely colors the way Vuong approaches memory and the present moment, and how love connects the two. If you liked Vuong’s novel On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous, you’ll love this collection (and vice versa).

The Hurting Kind — Ada Limón

This is the most recent collection from national treasure/Poet Laureate, Ada Limón, which I listened to while doing laundry and getting pooped on by a bird. Many of the poems are grounded in a sense of wonder and connection with the natural world, but they also examine her childhood and her family history and offer touching tributes to her late grandparents. The collection is also underscored by the universal feelings of loss and loneliness which have come to characterize so much of the art created during the pandemic. In the titular poem, a sweeping generational rumination on family and the small details of lives past that are remembered by loved ones, Limón writes, “I have always been too sensitive, a weeper / from a long line of weepers. / I am the hurting kind.” This confession is woven throughout the collection; Limón’s pain comes from feeling too much: deeply, openly, and without reservation. May we all be so brave as to wear our hearts on our leaves.


THE TIPPY TOP:

Book cover for Fruiting Bodies by Kathryn Harlan

Fruiting Bodies — Kathryn Harlan

This story collection finally pulled me out of the slump that reading two 500+ pagers back to back with little enthusiasm had put me in. I needed a story collection because I needed worlds that I could dip in and out of with minimal effort and maximum satisfaction, and Fruiting Bodies certainly delivered. The stories defy clear-cut genres, blurring the lines between the expected and the fantastical, where even the ones that feel firmly grounded in reality are tinged with a sense of otherworldliness. In the titular story, a woman cooks with mushrooms clipped from her lover’s body. In another, a woman is subjected to visitations from different versions of her past self. In my favorite, a woman plays a high-stakes card game with the fair folk for research purposes, gambling everything from memories to body parts.

You may have noticed a pattern here, which is that all of the stories center women, most of them queer. The few male characters often feel like an imposition at worst and a nuisance at best, an inconvenience to solve and move on from. In their absence, women of all ages and desires are able to explore their identities and their relationships inside increasingly unstable worlds. The presence of magic—or at least a suspension of disbelief—throughout this collection aligns these stories with a rich tradition of mythology and folklore transposed for the present day, infused with temptation, intrigue, and divine femininity. I have not been able to stop thinking about these stories.


That’s April wrapped! If you’d like to chat some more about any of these books, my inbox/comments/DMs etc. are always open. Here’s hoping for less chaos and more quiet in May (a girl can dream).

Until next time, happy reading!
❤ Catherine

Voices in Our Heads — March in Review

Get in, reader, we’re going shopping.

Pyramid of book covers with homie by danez smith on top; dyscalculia by camonghne felix and happy all the time by laurie colwin on the second row; poem's to eat by takuboku, american estrangement by said sayrafiezadeh, and people we meet on vacation by emily henry in the third row; we had to remove this post by hanna bervoets, the netflix poster for shadow and bone, a modern mephistopheles by louisa may alcott, and the movie poster for a quiet girl on the bottom row

Hey friends,

This newsletter is a little late in coming for two reasons: one, because I make the rules and I’ve been traveling, and two: I’ve been working on incorporating something new into these newsletters that I’m really excited to share!

First, I want to say how much I love it when one of you tells me you bought a book that I recommended here. It makes me feel so good inside! I love that you’re reading and supporting authors with me! The one thing I don’t love supporting is Amazon, because IMO, independent bookstores are infinitely more worth giving your money to than Schmeff Schmezos.

So starting this month, all of the books I talk about in this newsletter (and all the previous ones!) will be linked to my Bookshop storefront, where you can buy the book directly from a local bookstore of your choosing! Also, as an affiliate, I receive 10% of each sale, which you can think of as a little recommendation tip jar. I’ll never make this newsletter paid, so if you want to support me, consider buying a book! Then you have my undying gratitude plus a book, which is a pretty sweet deal.

Okay, that took up all my intro space. How have you been? Have you been good? I’ve been good. March was good to me and good for the books, so let’s get into it.


Honorable Mention:

We Had to Remove This Post — Hanna Bervoets

Translated from the Dutch, this book fits right into the genre of “mentally ill girls decidedly not thriving in absurd situations” novels that I somehow always seem to be reading. The narrator works for an unnamed social media company as a content moderator, tasked with the truly horrendous job of reviewing flagged content and deciding what gets to stay up. It’s as sinister as you can imagine, and the story escalates when the narrator starts a relationship with one of the other women on her team. Unrelated (or is it?): I took Twitter off my phone this month and I do not miss it!

Shadow and Bone — Netflix/Leigh Bardugo

I finally started a new knitting project (socks) and got to work with Season 2 of Shadow and Bone on in the background. Based on Leigh Bardugo’s Shadow and Bone book trilogy and her Six of Crows duology, it’s set in the fantastical Grishaverse where a select group of people with magical abilities (Grisha) must fight a lethal, encroaching darkness called The Fold. It was just the kind of escapism I was looking for: a fantasy world where everyone is attractive and there’s just enough real danger that the hero’s ultimate triumph feels earned. I enjoyed the Crows’ storyline much more than Alina’s (Ben Barnes as the Darkling being the one exception) and hope they get greenlit for all the ragtag heist spinoffs their hearts desire.

A Modern Mephistopheles — Louisa May Alcott

I found this strange little volume at the BPL’s winter book sale and did a double take because surely this was not the same Louisa May Alcott of Little Women fame?? Indeed it is! Apparently, after Alcott had made enough money writing her famous moral novels, she started experimenting with darker tales such as this “modern” take on Faust, featuring a young poet willing to give up his freedom for fame. Gothic, romantic, and a little campy, I can see how this never became a classic to the same level as Alcott’s more famous work, but fun nonetheless to see an author explore other parts of their talent.

The Quiet Girl

Phillip has been on a months-long campaign to get me to cry at a movie, and when he wasn’t expecting it, it finally happened!. The film is almost completely in Irish and is adapted from Claire Keegan’s story Foster, which I first read in a castle in Ireland (truly!). It’s the story of a young girl who goes to stay with older, childless relatives while her mother has a new baby. Under their care, the girl blossoms, oblivious to the heaviness of a tragic secret that still lingers in the house. I loved the gentleness of this movie, how it soothed with its soft, sunny tones and birdsong, evoking the feeling of contentment one feels coming home after a long day spent outside, knowing you’ll sleep soundly because you are loved.


The Foundation:

Book covers for Poems to Eat by Takuboku, American Estrangement by Said Sayrafiezadeh, and People We Meet on Vacation by Emily Henry

Poems to Eat — Takuboku

A dear old friend recommended these poems to me from the other side of the world (hi Nina!), so I was delighted to find that my library had an absolutely gorgeous copy on reserve, complete with stunning woodcut prints interspersed between the pages. Written in the traditional Japanese tanka style, these collected poems touch on everything from work and love to sickness, ennui, and a nostalgic longing for other lives. Considered one of the first modern Japanese poets, Takuboku completed most of his work in the early 1900s before dying of tuberculosis in 1912 at the age of 26. Sadly, this book is not available on Bookshop, so I’ll use this opportunity to again champion my favorite library app: Libby!

American Estrangement — Saïd Sayrafiezadeh

Some friends and I were thinking lately about who the greatest living/active short story writers of our time are, which made me realize how woefully not well-versed I am in modern short fiction. American Estrangement was one of my first steps toward remedying this predicament, and what I enjoyed most about the America of Sayrafiezadeh’s stories was that there was always something foreign about the mundane and something familiar in the strange. The stories range from speculative to introspective, exploring families, relationships, desires, and shames with humor and a fair, if sometimes harsh, sense of clarity. I read a lot of contemporary fiction, but this portrait of our country felt of the moment in a way that feels true and timely, and rare.

People We Meet on Vacation — Emily Henry

I’ve been saving Emily Henry for myself because I knew I’d love her and her books would feel like a treat for my tired brain. People We Meet on Vacation is a millennial spin on When Harry Met Sally, following two college best friends over a decade of sharing special summer trips and staunchly refusing to fall in love with each other—or at least admit it—for as long as possible. Poppy and Alex are charming, witty, colorful, and loveable people whose relationship you want to root for, but also, their mutual yearning is so addictive I wanted to stretch it out as long as possible. (It was Pisces season, okay? Give me a break.)


Solid Supports:

Book covers for Dyscalculia by Camonghne Felix and Happy All the Time by Laurie Colwin

Dyscalculia: A Love Story of Epic Miscalculation — Camonghne Felix

This was a beautifully short audiobook that I listened to over the course of a few lunch breaks, and which reaffirmed my love for listening to writers read their own work. A deeply personal memoir, Felix herself narrates the story of her childhood trauma and the ways in which that trauma shaped her mental chemistry and her ability to love and experience love. Using dyscalculia (the term for a math-specific learning disability) as a metaphor for her difficulties in processing and navigating the rest of her life, Felix’s story is vulnerable, raw, and exceptionally brave. She also has a gorgeous reading voice, which combined with her lyrical writing style turns her trauma into poetry, taking the pain of loving and living and transforming it into something devastatingly beautiful.

Happy All the Time — Laurie Colwin

This recommendation came from my adoptive literary godmother, Jami Attenberg, and her wonderful newsletter, Craft Talk. Jami described this book as “a perfect scoop of ice cream with some chocolate sauce served in a vintage sterling silver dessert bowl,” and honestly, I can’t really top that. Happy All the Time is about two men who are cousins and best friends who fall in love with two vastly different women in New York City. Published in 1978, the book evokes a bygone era of Manhattan that feels golden and hazy around the edges (although that’s probably just the cigarette smoke). The characters were quirky and strange but not in ways that we wouldn’t still recognize in ourselves today, and most importantly, they loved and cared for each other even when they didn’t fully understand each other. If this book is ice cream, then it should be a magic kind that melts only as quickly as you want it to and can last you a whole rainy weekend, as necessary.


THE TIPPY TOP:

Book cover for Homie by Danez Smith

Homie — Danez Smith

For a long time, I was really insecure about my ability to competently discuss poetry because I never formally studied it in school and I don’t read or write it as often as I do prose. Listening to Smith read their own poems during my first week commuting to my new job reminded me that the purpose of poetry is not to analyze, but to experience. Smith’s poems are positively bursting with life and love: love for life, love for their friends, and love in a world that makes loving difficult but so immensely worth doing anyway. They are in turns intimate and informal, funny and solemn, joyous, earnest, and as an exploration of Black queer identity, unabashedly proud. The poems are also deeply rooted in the loss of one of Smith’s best friends, whose presence and absence is a recurring theme throughout this collection.

As a straight white listener, I was very aware that these poems were not explicitly written for me, and that their reclamation of derogatory language and their proud refutation of shame as a Black queer person speaks to an experience and a power that will never be mine. For this reason, I especially recommend listening to these poems if you can, not only because Smith’s reading voice is truly a gift, but also because in being a listener, we silence our own internal monologues and cede the agency of our reading experience back to the speaker. Listening allows Smith the opportunity to invite us into their world on their own terms, in their own words, and to share their experiences in the most authentic way. As a collection, Homie is one big love letter to community, and to vicariously experience that community through Smith’s fierce love—even if only for a couple of hours—is a privilege.


And that was March! Thanks for reading, and thanks especially for your patience as I got everything set up with the new Bookshop stuff. I promise April’s recap will be on time.

In the meantime, feel free to let me know what you’re reading, what you’re thinking, what you’re loving. I’m always around to chat.

Until next time, happy reading!
❤ Catherine