What I Read: June 2022
I read 2.5 novels and honestly that feels like a triumph.
I wanted to write something here about all the things that have gone wrong in the month of June — the list would keep you reading for awhile — on top of all the things that went wrong in May, and April before that, and then March and February… 2022 has been brutal in a thousand little and not-so-little ways. And then I read Courtney Martin’s newsletter on the primal whisper and she summed it up so well.
We went on our first family vacation in three years and had car trouble. A 5 hour drive took 11. Then Scott got sick, so of course I did, too. We slept terribly and came home just as exhausted as when we left, but in a heavier way; a way that feels unable to untangle from ourselves. We came home to housework and car work and garden work and my semi-nomadic retired father who arrived a week ahead of when I expected. We arrived to the knowledge that we need to start prepping for the winter even though summer just appeared on the calendar. We arrived home spent, when we thought we would arrive home fresh.
And none of that is news to any of you, I’m sure. I’d wager that in the two years since March of 2020, every one of you have had this moment — once or often, at random intervals or in a predictable 28-day cycle — when you thought, or mumbled out loud to anyone who might be listening, that you are done. Done.
But we keep going because what choice do we have?
If you need to rant about your current moment of done-ness, hit “reply” and share —I’d be happy to read and bear witness to it alongside you.
My semi-annoying rant aside, this is probably why I only read fiction this month: I needed something to escape into.
Here’s what I read in June:
The House in the Cerulean Sea
by T.J. Klune
I adored this book. After many, many people urged me to read it (Alise Napp, Melanie Dale, the rest of the 2020 internet), I’m so glad I did. It’s magic, magical, and full of magic — and yes, those are three different descriptions. It’s about family and belonging and how we decide to treat those who aren’t quite like us. It’s otherworldly and so very pertinent to this world we have at hand. And the end is just what your heart wants — nay, needs — in these days that can leave it a bit raw.
Vintage: A Novel
by Susan Gloss
I wanted to like this novel from local Madison author Susan Gloss, but it fell flat on a few fronts. The plot could be great — vintage shop owner faces sudden eviction and must rally her community to avoid it (very Shop Around the Corner-adjacent) — but it’s populated with caricatures and storylines that wrap up all-too-easily. My favorite of all the characters was Amithi, an Indian-American immigrant who is facing a late-in-life crisis, but she doesn’t get nearly enough time on the page. Still, it was an easy book to dip in and out of on vacation.
If you like an Indian-American immigrant story, I heartily recommend A Place for Us by Fatima Farheen Mirza.
The Sparrow: A Novel
by Mary Doria Russel
I am not finished with this yet but I am almost certain it will earn a place on my “Favorites of All Time” shelf. I’ll give you a full review next month, but for now I’ll tell you this: it’s about Jesuit Priests + Space Travel — and I never thought to put those words together before, but it WORKS.
I haven’t even touched The Making of Biblical Womanhood this month. Maybe I’ll have the time + wherewithal to finish it someday?
What I’ve been reading with the kids:
I picked up these four books in the last Scholastic order the year and saved them for vacation. They are all good (The Good Egg, etc. is part of a whole series), but The Word Collector is phenomenal.
Tennyson has pulled an old favorite of Arthur’s off the shelf and keeps it in rotation: Solutions for Cold Feet by Carey Sookocheff. I’m not mad about it. The illustrations are simple, just a five-color palette, and the story is cute. The best part is hearing Tennyson at 2.5 recite the ending of each sentence along with whoever is reading it.
What I’m reading next:
I’m going to race through The Sparrow as fast as my life will let me, and then see where the wind blows after that. After many years of being thoughtful and intentional with my reading choices, I know this is a time for reading what brings me back to the page with joy, and less about reading for enrichment or information or growth because I feel I ought to be doing that. There will be time for that kind of reading again, I’m just not sure when.
What kind of a reading season are you in? Hit “reply” — I’d love to hear about it.