“The Scent of Flowers at Night” by Leïla Slimani

This slim little volume is beautifully written and impeccably translated, though this is no surprise based on the author and translator. In it, Slimani spends one night alone in the Punta della Dogana museum in Venice and reflects on her life as a writer. It's a little slip of a book, but powerful. 

I read half of this book while waiting for a flight, then slid it hurriedly into the front pocket of my suitcase when they called our boarding group. I ended up having to check my suitcase at the gate (something about it being overstuffed? surely not) and only remembered they’d also taken my book away from me when it was too late. (Luckily I’d packed four other books in the backpack I kept with me, so I survived the flight.)

I think the thing about this book that will always stand out to me is the way that writing takes over Slimani's life when she's in the middle of a book, almost as if she were in a prison. I am glad that writing is not a prison for Sam.