“My Salinger Year” by Joanna Rakoff

I really enjoyed this book, which coincidentally also took place in New York City, just like the last book I read. 

This is a memoir about a year in the life of Joanna Rakoff, which she spent as the assistant to a literary agent at Harold Ober Associates (or so Wikipedia tells me, as her book only ever refers to The Agency). One of said agent’s main clients was a man named Jerry or, as most of the world knew him, JD Salinger. 

One of Joanna’s duties at The Agency was to respond to Salinger’s fan mail, which he had requested to never see. Her official duty was to type the same scripted reply to everyone, only changing the addressee. However, as Rakoff read more and more of the fan mail, she found some of it so touching or soul-baring that she could not resist crafting more heartfelt replies. 

I’m going to tell you a secret. Years ago I had a friend, TF, who loved to ready maybe as much as I do, and we bonded over books. TF’s literary hero was JD Salinger (no matter how unoriginal that might be). I think I was impressed by this because I did not have a literary hero; I just liked to read. Well, anyone would like to meet their literary hero, right? I knew how reclusive Salinger was (though probably only because TF had told me) so I knew this was a total long shot, but I wrote a letter to JD Salinger… inviting him to have lunch with TF. (Insert crying laughing emoji here. This can kind of be equated to writing to Santa.) My letter, of course, acknowledged the fact that this was highly unlikely, but it never (or rarely) hurts to ask, right? I mean, TF would certainly never have lunch with Salinger if such a meeting were never requested. 

The short story is, of course, that TF never had lunch with Salinger. But I did receive a reply to my letter. (Not from Salinger himself, of course.) The letter was typed by someone who introduced themself as Salinger’s assistant, and in my memory the writer said it was a very kind request to make for TF, who was lucky to have a friend like me.

As I read Rakoff’s book, an idea occurred to me. Could Rakoff have been the one to reply to my letter to Salinger? The timing works out relatively well (Rakoff took the assistant job in 1996; I met TF in 1994 and would likely have written the letter between then and 2000, with 1996-7 as my best guess). The only thing is, in my memory the assistant was a male, and as Joanna signed her own name to her letters, I don’t know where I would have gotten the wrong idea about her gender. And really, Joanna’s boss could have had a male assistant before or after Joanna—one who took the same tack in terms of not sticking to the formulaic reply, but also one who never wrote a book about the experience (at least not one that I’m aware of). But it’s much more fun to think it was actually Joanna who replied to me. 

“Grief is for People” by Sloane Crosley

I wish I could remember how I heard about this book. I was thinking it must have been in Oh Reader magazine, but I flipped back through the most recent issue and didn't find any mention of it. My next guess is Bookstagram. Either way, when I saw Crosley had a new book out, I ordered a copy with hardly a second thought. It seems that my memory is full of how much I loved the first book of essays I read by her, and time has dimmed my disappointment in the second one. 

Okay so actually when I said I ordered this book with hardly a second thought, I kind of lied. I did read a few reviews first, including one I wish I hadn't. Some Amazon reviewer going by the name of John Berry stated, "In the context of a book about coping with the suicide of a best friend, the number of pages devoted to stolen jewelry seemed out of place." I feel like that one sentence colored my entire reading experience, and the insignificance of stolen jewelry next to the devastation of suicide really stood out to me. Would it have, if the contrast hadn't been pointed out to me ahead of time? That seems like a stupid question, where the obvious answer is "of course it would have," but I guess the real question is: would it have bothered me?

Honestly, when it comes right down to it, I don't think it actually did bother me. It was noticeable, but I was okay with it. To me, what Crosley was trying to say was that she found parallels between the burglary and the death, but also that she was well aware that the two situations were SO NOT THE SAME. And I appreciate that the writing was thought-provoking but not emotionally manipulative. I don't think it was full of universal truths about grief; rather, it has more of an "everyone grieves in their own way" vibe. And it included the biting humor and the taste of New York City that I enjoyed in Crosley's previous writing. 

“Murder in the Bookshop” by Anita Davison

My daughter (formerly known as Bookworm Child, though she is now no longer a child) gave me a great experience for my birthday: she ordered me a Blind Date With a Book from @TheMysteriousBookcase on Etsy. I got a package in the mail, wrapped in brown paper and twine, that included a mystery novel and a Galaxy bar! You can see photos here. What a great idea for a Bookworm Mom!

Unfortunately, the book itself was not . . . my cup of tea. (Groan. If you've read Murder in the Bookshop, or anything remotely like it, you get the reference.) I mean, you know I love Agatha Christie, and I love a good cozy mystery, so it wouldn't be a stretch to think I would like a murder mystery set in WWI-era London. But this one . . . the characters were all over the place. Was the protagonist a feisty heroine, or a brat? Was her aunt a feminist living on the fringes of society or was she a femme fatale? Was Hannah's love interest a cardboard cutout of Superman, his conspicuously broad shoulders dressed in Edwardian extravagance? 

The writing, generally, was not good. In the Acknowledgements, the author thanks her editors "for smoothing out of my clumsy phrasing" which makes me wonder how bad it must have been before said smoothing. I could not sink into the story because I was constantly re-writing in my head. And the plot was such a jarring mixture of pearl-clutching and tongue-in-cheek. Not to mention that on every other page, someone was making tea! (Gosh, I'm tired, I'll make a pot of tea. Oh, I just woke up, would you make me a pot of tea? Dancing makes me thirsty, let's make a pot of tea. Gracious, there's a dead body in my bookstore. This calls for a pot of tea. Oh, and it's my best friend . . . might as well start a second pot!) It honestly crossed the line from cozy to ridiculous.

Still, it was a mystery! And I remain afflicted by the inability to abandon a book once I've started reading it. So of course I read the whole thing, and overall it was a positive experience. I mean, some books are so bad that they actually make me angry. This one wasn't that bad. 

“Beautifully Organized” by Nikki Boyd

My lovely husband gave me this beautiful book as a birthday gift. He knows me so well. If not a novel, this is exactly the sort of book that appeals to me. I've been slowly but surely working my way through our home, trying to organize and declutter, throwing some style at it along the way . . . Unfortunately, the  part of that last sentence that is most true is the word "slowly". I'm always on the hunt for some help, and for new ideas, but things are not progressing in leaps and bounds. 

I enjoyed reading through Beautifully Organized, but it wasn't the shortcut I was hoping for. I don't feel like I came away from it with tons of ideas (although I did note a few: I'm definitely going to try putting a few drops of essential oil on the cardboard tube inside a toilet paper roll, and maybe I'll put a sprig of rosemary in one of our clear soap dispensers). But as for the big picture: I still have a lot of work to do, and it's going to continue to take a lot of time as I focus on making improvements in small areas, bit by bit. 

The book itself was fun in the same way as How to Wear Everything. I may not have come away with a lot of specifics, but I was motivated to unload excess and organize what remains. And Boyd does provide a solid five-step framework for home decorating: Assess, Declutter, Clean, Organize, Beautify. The book doesn't include an overabundance of photographs (though there are enough to illustrate the main points), but that’s ok because my style does not match the author's (which consists mostly of white, grey, and silver--a palette I can appreciate, but a far cry from my colorful house). For me, the words were more inspiring than the photos.

“How to Wear Everything” by Kay Barron

A month ago if you’d told me I would read a book about fashion, I would have laughed at you while picturing Ross falling asleep next to Rachel at a lecture. If you’d told me I would pay full price for a book about clothes, I would have rolled my eyes and flashed you with my Half Price Books membership card (note: they don't offer one. But if there was one, and it were free, it would be well worn and easily accessible in my wallet). But that was before the plain white cover proclaiming HOW TO WEAR EVERYTHING in stark black lettering caught my eye at Indigo in Toronto. I was pulled towards it as if caught in a tractor beam. I picked it up and started reading and I wanted to know more. But then I saw the price and put it back down again. 

Various scenarios ran through my mind. Order it from Amazon (where surely it would be cheaper)? Put it on my birthday list? Forget about it entirely since it's Just Not My Thing? All this while wandering through the store looking for Sam and percolating an idea in the back of my mind which went something like this: I would find Sam, tell him about this book and how weirdly attractive I found it, tell him it was too expensive but then remind him it's priced in Canadian dollars so it's really not as bad as it sounds, and he would just smile at me with love in his eyes and say, "If you want it, you should get it." 

And that's pretty much what happened.

Just as weird as my attraction to this book is the fact that I really enjoyed reading it. Like, the whole thing. (Except for the chapter on maternity clothes which I skimmed through pretty quickly since I am of an age where that topic definitely does not apply.) I even (though I'm slightly embarrassed to admit this) took a few notes with outfit ideas. And, best of all, I have new confidence and impetus in getting rid of clothes that don't both look and feel good on me. Thumbs up all around! Hopefully next time you see me I will be looking newly chic. 

“Intermezzo” by Sally Rooney

Terrible news. I finished reading this book two weeks ago but never blogged about it. And now… I definitely haven’t forgotten about it, but nothing is fresh on my mind. Here's what I can dredge up from the muck: I enjoyed reading it, as expected where Sally Rooney is concerned, but for me it wasn't on the same level as Conversations with Friends or Normal People. It's OK, that's a high bar. And it's solidly on par with Beautiful World, Where Are You. (Although I just reread my blog posts for those three books, which made me think maybe I didn't love the experience of reading Normal People as much as my obviously almost non-existent memory tells me I loved it.)

To me, this book had less in the way of so-high-level-as-to-be-almost-unbelievably-intelligent conversations between characters. (Or maybe these conversations were so expected in a Sally Rooney book that I didn't even notice them this time around?) Which helped in the arena of not making me feel inferior. Not that the characters were idiots or anything--there were still a lot of really high IQs floating around--but they found other paths to superiority (like world-class chess skills and incredible beauty). 

I must admit I did not reach critical mass with this book, but that's OK too. I don't have to be desperate to finish a book in order to enjoy it. It's actually kind of a relief to be able to put a book down any time I need to. And I definitely did not have to force my way through, which is never a good indication.  

“The Two Loves of Sophie Strom” by Sam Taylor

When I'm down and troubled . . . all I've gotta do is read. It's been a rough week, but I had a day off work today, and I used it to its best advantage: I read an awesome book. 

You may find it difficult to avoid taking me for a shill, considering the fact that the author is also my co-blogger (and my co-everything, really), but nothing can change the fact that this is SUCH A GOOD STORY. I mean, I actually did read several different renditions prior to this finished one (which is part of the reason I didn't re-read it as soon as I could get my hands on it--I just needed a little time for the forgettery to set in first, so that it could seem almost new for me) and while every draft I read was great, this beautiful, polished, shiny version was the best. 

This is one of those excellent books where it's so real that you live it, and then there's the extra whipped cream and cherry on top: that one thing that makes it different, better, more intriguing than real life. That one little magical twist, something that couldn't actually happen in real life except maybe, JUST MAYBE, it really could? 

The story starts with Max Spiegelman growing up in Vienna just before the second World War. One night changes his life completely. One night changes his life completely. (Once you've read the book, you'll understand that wasn't a typo.) Max is half Jewish, which ends up a much more significant matter as time goes by. And Max's story is so rich and complex and compelling that I'm just sitting here trying to figure out how I can sum it up in a few sentences without spoilers and I'm utterly failing. And where does Sophie Strom fit in, you ask? She's only the love of Max's life . . and his other life . . .

Unfortunately, if you are in the U.S., you are unlikely to find this novel in a bookstore near you. It has only been published by Faber in the UK and Commonwealth. But if you have a chance to pick up a copy, I highly recommend it. 

Somebody totally needs to make a movie out of this book. Or, actually, a TV series! That's the way to go these days. 

“All That Is” by James Salter

Sam suggested All That Is for me, so I was a bit disappointed that this book and I were not friends through the first chapter. Lucky for me the rest of it wasn't about war, so I ended up liking it a lot more.

Would it be insulting to Salter to say that his writing is Hemingway-esque? Not that there's anything wrong with Hemingway's writing by any means, but that I imagine Salter would want his writing to be its own thing rather than derivative. Anyway, it's been far too long since I read A Farewell to Arms, but this book reminded me of that book--in tone and style if not in plot.

All That Is had more tentacles, though. Not in the sense of hooks by which it grabbed me (although it did that too), but in the sense of the way it spread out into side stories. Reading this book was like meandering through a big house, going from room to room and learning about the people who lived in each one. I'm trying to run them back through my memory and figure out--were they all linked to the main character, Bowman, in some way? I'm inclined to say yes, although with my memory you never know. But all of these people who were technically minor characters were fully fleshed. 

If I had to sum this book up in one phrase, I would say it's about all the sexual escapades in one man's life, but there's so much more to it than that. 

“A Brief History of the Earth’s Climate” by Steven Earle, PhD

It took me a long time to make my way through this book and I'm not sure a lot of it sunk in. (Pretty sure this is a me problem and not a problem with the book itself.) The main impression I came away with is that, as Steven Novella is fond of saying about everything, "it's complicated." Whereas the previous climate book I read made everything simple and easy to understand (possibly overly so), this book really dug into the details. 

Earle explains that many things have an impact on the earth's climate: 

1. The Sun is getting hotter. This certainly serves to warm the climate, but it has been happening very slowly, over an immense timeframe (billions of years). There are also shorter-term solar variations (sunspots) but their effects on the climate have been minimal. 

2. Continental drift has caused changes in albedo (which is basically how "reflective" the earth is, which in turn has an effect on global temperatures.

3. Volcanoes release greenhouse gases, but the overall effect of a typical volcanic eruption is actually cooling of the climate due to release of sulphur dioxide (which converts to sulphuric acid or sulphate aerosols, which can remain in the atmosphere for months to years, blocking the sun).

4. Milanković cycles (variations in the Earth's orbit and tilt) also affect the climate, but these changes occur over thousands (or hundreds of thousands) of years. 

5. Ocean currents are important for redistribution of warmth around the world, and disruptions in these currents are both an indication that climate change is occurring, and a cause of greater temperature extremes (hot areas get hotter and cold areas get colder). The El Niño Southern Oscillation causes short-term increases and decreases in global temperatures, but they don't explain the recent continuous upward trend over time. 

6. Comets or asteroids hitting the earth have caused climate changes and extinctions in the past (and could do so again some day). Some organisms die from the impact, many more from the following radiative heat and resulting wildfires, and even more from the persistent clouds of soot that could cause a few years of darkness, then several more years of cold and dry conditions, followed by acid rain, then extended warming as a result of all the greenhouse gases caused by the fires. 

Bottom line; many factors impact the earth's climate. But there is one factor that has had a more precipitous impact in the shortest period of time: the human being and its related activities. None of the 6 issues listed above can explain the current trend of global warming (think hockey stick graph, which starts with normal climate variations but quickly switches to an incredibly steep rise in atmospheric greenhouse gases due to industrialization). Furthermore, based on ice core records, the Earth should actually be in a cooling trend, but it is certainly not. 

The last chapter of this book was my favorite: what can I personally do about climate change? That's what I've been trying to figure out for years. The recommendations of this book fell squarely between Greta Thunberg-style sacrifices (don't eat meat or dairy, don't buy new things, and don't fly) and those of the Green New Deal (individuals can't have an impact--it's up to governments). Earle gave a lot of suggestions (if not overly-specific ones):

• Decrease consumption of beef (dairy too, to a lesser extent)
• Walk, bike, or take a bus more. Drive and fly less. Get an electric car next time you buy one.
• Lobby your government and power company to generate cleaner electricity. 
• Get photovoltaic solar panels. 
• Set your thermostat lower in winter and higher in summer. 
• Wash clothes in cold water (and not every single time you wear them)
• Only run the dishwasher when it's full
• Take shorter showers.
• Waste less food, and compost what is unavoidably wasted
• Recycle.
• Don't replace your phone or computer as often (due to high "embodied emissions"--in other words, these things take a lot of energy to make).

I'd thought I would probably get rid of this book after reading it, but I came to the opinion that it is a good reference. I doubt I would ever read it all the way through again, but it will be useful if I ever have a question about a particular aspect it covers--I can just re-read that chapter.

Full disclosure: I wrote this blog post on an airplane. Fail!

“A Visit From the Goon Squad” by Jennifer Egan

When I mentioned to Sam that I was reading A Visit From the Goon Squad, he asked me if I was going to blog about it. I'm pretty sure I looked at him as if he were crazy. Isn't that a given by now? I'm reading it. Of course I'm going to blog about it. But when I realized his reason for asking, it made perfect sense: Sam already blogged about this book, coming up on ten years ago. And, of course, he did an impeccable job, so I really want to end my post by saying, "Yeah, what he said." But I know that I at least need to mention that I really enjoyed reading this book as well--as much as, if not more than, Candy House. I think my only problem is now I want to re-read CH!

“The Memory of Animals” by Claire Fuller

I can’t remember how it was that I recently heard Claire Fuller has a fifth book out (although I can hazard a guess: Instagram has just recently become A Thing for me, and I follow @writerclairefuller), but I do remember the progression of my thoughts when I realized this: first, YAY! Next, it came out in 2023 and I’m just now hearing about it?? (Notice the placement of the word "recently" in my first sentence. It doesn't modify  "has a fifth book out." It modifies the "heard.") Then, oh… it’s a pandemic novel about a vaccine trial… well, ok, it’s still Claire Fuller. And, hm, interesting cover, but OK. 

So I placed an order right away, and started reading the minute it arrived, and. Well. I absolutely loved it. I'm almost afraid to say how much I really loved it, because I want Sam to read it and I don't want him to have unrealistically elevated expectations, because I want him to love it as much as I did. So maybe I should shut up about how good it was? (Because of course, you know, Sam is one of the nine people who reads this blog.) And also there was a conversation scene which, for me, rang false, so the book isn't absolutely perfect. (Sorry, Claire!) But I just loved the shared experience (pandemic) made alien (vaccine trial) with the scifi element thrown in (which, based on Fuller's first four books, I would not have expected) AND it was a really compelling story and I just wanted to read and read and read. Plus, octopuses! Or octopi? Octopodes? Anyway, there seems to be a lot of those about these days (see Remarkably Bright Creatures by Shelby Van Pelt, which I haven't read, and The Life Cycle of the Common Octopus by Emma Knight, which doesn't come out until early next year although I'm looking forward to reading it). (Three is a lot, right?)

I think if you liked Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow, or Birnham Wood (yes, I'm talking directly to you, Sam--you, who loved both of those books!) you will like this one as well. I think you just need to ignore the fact that it's about a pandemic (as did I) and the fact that it's about a vaccine trial, and you will quickly recognize that it's just such a good story. Instead of reminding you of all the worst parts about COVID, this story is entirely its own thing. 

Reading this made me want to read Station Eleven (Sam read the book and thought it was great; we watched the tv series together and found it very compelling, but for me there was just too much pandemic going on in real life to think I might want to read about one). It ALSO made me want a SEQUEL! Claire Fuller seems like the opposite of an author who would write a sequel but I Just Want More. 

“The Sea” by John Banville

After my earlier (and only) experience with John Banville, you might think I wouldn’t go back for more. But you would be wrong. I mean, Snow had already proven to me that Banville was a good writer, even if I didn't like the subject matter; and Sam assured me that The Sea was worth a read. 

And it was. I definitely liked Sea better than Snow. (Heh, that's literally true as well as literarily true!) And it certainly didn't hurt that when I started reading it, we were at the seaside (hence the lovely photo . . . wish we were still there).  

The Sea is one of those stories that is simultaneously about an old(ish) man and his current life, as well as that same man's experiences as a boy. Max Morden grew up spending his summers by the sea, although his family could only afford to stay in a wooden chalet (which must not be as nice as it sounds in my head). One seaside summer he befriended the Graces who were renting a cottage called the Cedars, and Old Max (grieving the death of his wife) tells us bit by bit about that summer as experienced by Young Max.

The story was powerful and intense, but in a remote way. Max somehow seemed an observer of his own grief—and as a result, so (mercifully) was I, by a further degree of separation. The book did not make me cry (and I did not have to fight it). The same was true (although perhaps less surprisingly so, since it was distant past), for his childhood experiences. But just because it wasn't a tearjerker doesn't mean it wasn't good. (Besides, you know me--if a book is not emotionally manipulative, that's a positive quality in my mind.) It had that great literary unfolding that I so enjoy, along with a few twists. So what if I guessed one of the them (of identity) before the end--I didn't guess the other (of love).