Consumption Diaries No. 22: August

Dispatches from the other side of Labor Day

August is supposed to be the last month of summer, but we all know that’s a lie. Here in DC, I’m willing to bet I will not comfortably wear a sweater during the day until at least October. But even still, there is a finality to August that feels a little depressing — what did you want to do this summer but didn’t get around to that will now have to wait for next summer? I try not to think like that, to assume that I have infinite summers or infinite time at all.

So, to appreciate my summer, a list of joys: the buzz of cicadas at dusk, iced matcha lattes on a hot day, a hug from a friend you’ve dearly missed, texted photos of your oldest friends’ babies, quiet and content solitude, feeling giddy with your friends on a loud sweaty dance floor at 2 a.m., the bar playing Chappell Roan, the bar playing Brat, paperback pages warped by ocean air, sitting down for dinner with your family when they live far away, watching horrible movies with wonderful people, the fleeting feeling of a summer night.

I read a good amount (for me) in August, but I am disappointed that I forgot about women in translation month until the very end when I happened to be reading Clarice Lispector. Maybe someday I’ll be as well-read as

Martha

, but it was not this month. I did enjoy the variety, though: a memoir, my first fantasy science fiction in quite some time, an electronic ARC courtesy of NetGalley, a sapphic Irish Bildungsroman.

lol^

Also, I have to say a big thank you to everyone who’s subscribed and read my silly little newsletter in the past couple of years. I hit 1,000 subs this month — something I hadn’t ever aimed for or expected — and at the risk of sounding uncool and overly earnest, I really am grateful for every one of those. Again, I’ve never expected much out of this newsletter, but it’s surprised me how fun it is. Because I am an editor who reads and fixes other people’s writing all day, it’s been mostly rewarding to sit on the other side of the table. Professionally, I will adamantly stay in my lane, but even still, it’s nice to know I’m not totally incompetent in the writing world. I want this to remain unserious so that it can remain fun rather than a chore or obligation, but it means a lot that so many people take it seriously anyway.

And please forgive any wonky formatting in this newsletter; I wrote and published it on my phone because I’ve been home for all of 48 hours since September began, and feel like a boomer saying I haven’t quite gotten the hang of it yet. At least you’re spared from one of my awful canva graphics!

reading

• Men We Reaped by Jesmyn Ward — I am not a Jesmyn Ward completist yet, but I wish I’d read this earlier in my journey. Ward’s memoir is deeply sad in its exploration of culture and society, but it’s proud too. It stands on its own well, but for me, it added so much color to her novels and painted a fuller story of the love that has driven her works of fiction. I read Salvage the Bones back in April 2023, and though I loved it, I sometimes struggled with it too. I found myself getting caught up in reading the novel the way I view the world, as a privileged middle class white girl from the not-Deep South. I wanted to understand better a culture so different from my own, and Men We Reaped was the context I needed. There is so much heartbreak in Ward’s novels, and as is often the case with heartbreak, it can only exist where there is also fierce love. I like to see both coexist, unable to be untangled from one another. And as an oldest sister with the same gendered birth order and number of siblings, so much of Ward’s pain over her brother’s death and the sense of responsibility she feels for her younger brother and sisters resonated with me. It is a heavy burden to take on. It feels kind of like a gift when a writer lets us feel it, if only fleetingly.

• Zero Stars, Do Not Recommend by M.J. Wassmer — I’m actually not sure why I requested this book on NetGalley, but I assume it’s because the cartoonish cover illustration resembles that of a contemporary romance. But as I discovered during a bout of insomnia that led to me reading the entire thing on my kindle in the dark like a little gremlin, that is not what this book is. In fact, I was screaming DUMP HIM!!! for much of the book. Our surly, schlumpy main character, Dan, has taken his girlfriend on a luxurious vacation to a brand new all-inclusive resort in Turks and Caicos, but almost immediately, drum roll, the sun explodes! Or rather, it disappears. The resort is plunged into apocalypse quickly, with a white lady fitness influencer-slash-MLM-scammer self-designating as the de facto leader/dictator almost immediately and class warfare ensuing. There are antics and hijinks, some of which are deeply fucked up, but the tone remains lighthearted (sometimes this works; sometimes it misses the mark). The protagonist inadvertently finds himself in the role of resistance leader, even though there isn’t one radical bone in his body, and he takes it upon himself to figure out what’s happened and how to get himself and his girlfriend (in contrast, competent, empathetic, beautiful) off the island. There is something deeply funny about titling your book THIS and feeling confident enough that people won’t make their whole review the book title. I respect it. Now, I would not call this a zero-star read by any means, but I was constantly reminded why I tend to avoid with straight white male protagonists. It can get exhausting! It’s not to say there’s no value in this perspective, especially considering it is that of many of history’s greatest writers, but halfway through the book, I realized that our unlikable narrator maybe wasn’t supposed to be unlikable. Maybe we were supposed to have sympathy for his woe-is-me privileged little attitude. That is a perspective we no longer need, though I guess it’s a good reminder that it’s still thriving. A female protagonist taking this same tone might’ve immediately been labeled “unlikable” or “troubled” simply by nature of us assuming women are more introspective and self-aware. This book is not beating the allegations that we are. Anyway, I think this would be such a funny TV show, where supporting characters could shine a bit more and balance the testosterone and thick-headedness. Not all of it is funny — there is literal gun violence and literal death — but I think the nuance would show better on the screen than in this short novel format. The Good Place was quite doomsday in places, but it managed to be both funny and heartfelt! That medium would work here, I think.

• The Fifth Season by N.K. Jemisin — for someone who enjoys science so much and likes fantasy/sci-fi movies and tv, I’ve read shockingly little of the genre. So when I picked this up, it was a deliberate challenge to myself to try something new. I’m not sure high fantasy novels are for me (even though the LOTR movies are some of my favs), so I thought I’d pick a book that has both fantasy elements and science fiction, the latter of which feels more comfortable to me. And I can’t lie, I love dystopian shit. The premise that the world is ending, and regularly ends, was too good to pass up, probably because it feels so realistic. Nuclear winters might very well be our future! Following the world-building required me to flex a muscle I didn’t know I had, and I was at times frustrated that I didn’t have the entire backstory and lore laid out for me, as someone who enjoys reference texts. But not having access to that information also kept me hooked until the end, where I was dissatisfyingly met with a cliff-hanger, something I forgot happens in books because I so rarely read series intended that way. All of that is to say, I immediately purchased the second book in the series, The Obelisk Gate, and hopefully I’ll be able to take advantage of my momentum and pick it up shortly.

• Sunburn by Chloe Michelle Horwath — I think this is my book of the summer this year. There were times where I felt like it dragged a bit — the narrator really pines after her girlfriend — but it captures that all-consuming feeling that can only exist in teenagedom. And the writing is so lovely. I have such a hard time talking about books I loved because I just want to scream READ IT, but I just feel like this deserves more attention than it’s getting. What the fuck is in the water that Irish writers are drinking? Why are they so good at what they do?

• The Hour of the Star by Clarice Lispector — There’s a lot of hype around Lispector’s writing, and for good reason. I’ve always heard that reading her books in their original Brazilian is a treat, though her writing style can be a bit of a labyrinth, translated or not. I personally didn’t find the syntax difficult to follow, and any choices to stray from traditional structure felt intentional and natural. But I also didn’t really understand the book itself. Perhaps it was because it was so short, but it felt like a short story that was designed to be slotted into a larger collection, and I just felt like I was missing something. The book is told through the eyes of a whiny little man, and I wasn’t entirely sure on why that was. But even still, it was compelling and I loved the ending.

watching

• And Just Like That… — after finishing a Sex and the City rewatch, curiosity got the best of me and I had to see what the reboot was like. Even setting aside the obvious fact that this is designed for Gen X viewers who either need a lesson in what’s politically correct or want to feel validated that they already know, the cast feels unbalanced without Samantha. All the characters are terrible in their own ways, but without Samantha’s presence, they simply all become unbearable — even Miranda, former beacon of reason. Carrie, at least, is redeemed because she is grieving and SJP acts her little pants off during those scenes. The addition of new characters feels forced and only contributes to the off-balanced feeling; in the original show, essentially all side characters were fairly irrelevant as far as the plot arc went, besides Stanford and men du jour. I’m just hate-watching this reboot at this point, but I can’t stop. Anyway! Plenty has been said about this show already because I’m late to the party, so I’ll stop myself from ranting further.

• My favorite movie this month was Death Becomes Her (1992), a silly campy mess that is maybe not very feminist but definitely fun. I can’t believe I put this off for so long! I also liked Train to Busan (2016) and Party Girl (1995) because Parker Posey is a star, baby. I only saw two movies in theaters this month, so you win, Alamo season pass! One was Cuckoo, and I enjoyed it. Hunter Schafer is giving awkward Bella Swan during the slow scenes, but I think that will develop with age and experience, and she is such a star during tense moments. Just truly captivating. The other was Trap, which was certainly just M. Night Shyamalan’s way of launching his daughter’s musical career because it was such a tired plot otherwise — though I did have fun. A white man serial killer with mommy issues who has everyone fooled because of his neuroticism and wit? Groundbreaking.

buying

• Carry by Toni Jensen — purchased during Lost City Books’ summer sale, and it comes highly recommended by a friend whose book taste I trust THE MOST so I’m excited to read it this fall.

• Calpak Luka Duffel — I’ve taken this duffel on one road trip and one flight so far, and, sorry to say, it beats my previously beloved Beis mini weekender. It’s smaller, I think, but it seems to hold more, is soft and lightweight, and the shoulder straps are comfy. My one complaint is that there is no laptop sleeve, but my 15” MacBook does fit. It doesn’t look super fancy, I guess, but truly everything I own from Calpak is so well-made.

observing

As a fun (for me) aside, I’ve compiled a list of the books I spotted people reading in public, all here in DC: at the Banneker public pool’s book bar (Club Banneker, to those in the know), the metro, or the bus. I love seeing what people are reading in the wild because I’m living in such a bubble of very online book people and brand new releases and bestseller lists. It’s heartening (nostalgic, maybe) to see people reading outside of what I’ve come to expect and what I’m reading myself.

• Looking for a Sign by Susie Dumond — I saw two people reading this, and I’m definitely adding it to my list; a queer romance where the main character chooses dates based on astrology sounds like something I’d write, or something I would actually do in real life.

• One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Marcía Marquez

• Cat’s Cradle by Kurt Vonnegut

• Conversations with Friends by Sally Rooney

• The Matchmaker by Elin Hilderbrand

• So many copies of Colleen Hoover’s It Ends with Us, presumably because of the movie, but still disappointing. Also, is there an It Begins with Us? What is this similar one I am seeing?

I am traveling for most of September (including currently!), and if I’m being honest with myself, I doubt I’ll get around to reading much, let alone documenting it in a timely manner. So instead of forcing it, I’m going to take a brief hiatus from Consumption Diaries this month, and I’ll be back in October — and hopefully with some stand-alone book reviews or scatter-brained musings as well.

I’ll still be lurking in Notes and oversharing on instagram, but I’ll see you here in (hopefully) cooler temperatures! Thank you, as always, for taking the time to read.