Reading in the Shade

José Olivarez, Mariana Enriquez, and Hemingway Off Track

Hello and thank you for subscribing to READING SUCKS! I don’t really think that, but sometimes it feels that way. Here, I talk about reading and all that distracted me from it, as well some updates about what I’m working on and where you can see me read. This time I have some macabre distractions, an interview with José Olivarez and a question from someone called “Hemingway Off Track” about reading.

I have a month of sharing/talking about freaky short stories in Brooklyn. Here’s where you can catch me in the next month:

On October 10th, I’ll be moderating an event between Mariana Enriquez and Meghan Mcdowell at the Center for Fiction.

On October 27th, I’m doing a special sexy Halloween reading at Honey’s with Redlight Fiction.

On October 28th, I’ll be reading with Herbal Supplements.

On October 29th, I’ll be reading at the Red Hook Interim Library for their horror/thriller series.

Hope to see you there.

DISTRACTIONS

My Haunted Apartment Building

I was eating lasagna at Allegra’s house and talking with the other dinner guests about the perils of our various industries. All of them want us to make little videos and none of them are paying us enough. Allegra was pouring me another glass of white wine when I received a string texts from the tenant What’s App. The last time this happened, a horrific smell had taken over the building and the horrific smell, it turned out, was somebody’s dead body. She had been there for nearly a week. This left the building shaken; she had lived there for decades and the suddenness of her death tacked on to the scent of her rotting body was enough to, as one neighbor said, stick her head out the window and “scream and scream.” This time, it was because a woman ran into the building drunk (I don’t know how else to describe her but I want to let you know that I’m not judging her, I’m in fact very happy she was having a good time) from the West Indian Day parade to the 6th floor, where she fell through the staircase to the first floor. She didn’t live there. It feels cursed typing this out and I nearly can’t believe it. I walked through my hallway with some sage that Allegra had given me, stopping at the stairwell because there was a splatter of blood on the floor. I don’t live on the sixth or first floor.

My Friend’s Still Dead

Yesterday was the anniversary of my friend Ryan’s murder. How dramatic to say that, but it is what it is. Last year, the trauma of the event of his death (his murder lol) took space in my body and brain, instead of the sadness I feel now after a year. It’s kind of just a dull ache of a feeling, a reason you space out while people are talking or cry at a full jar of strawberry jam on the sidewalk. Someone I loved is gone and now there’s just this silence. Do you know what I mean? A person is a big beautiful noise wailing with life and when they’re gone the noise stops abruptly. My brain remembers the sound, can hear it on its own— replicate it, even. But it’s never really the same.

We gathered at vigil organized by Claudia, the love of his life and my dear friend. I am in awe at how strong she is, and how the right words seem to come so easily to her. Listening to her speak about him I hoped to have more conviction in my life, more kindness, more grace. She spoke, importantly, of his flaws, which I wish we did more when people died. We worship the dead as if they never had the ability to hurt us or themselves. Ryan was a remarkable organizer and one of the smartest, most well-read people I’ve ever met. I was intimidated by how much he knew and also comforted. He was a person who, to me, had every answer. Everybody he met felt like his best friend because he showed up for them as if he were. In his head, he was. He was also a fucking dumb ass and really messy. Who isn’t? He smoked and drank too much but it was so much fun to be around him that you would drink and smoke too much even if you don’t do that kind of thing. Remembering how much he loved to party makes me feel less bad about it (a lifetime of BRAT will kill you I guess) and made me want to do it more, but also remember that the point isn’t to self-medicate or wash my anxieties away, but to make memories with people I love. To commiserate and howl together. God, I wish I could hear you again.

DEAR READING SUCKS

I’m introducing a new element to this substack and that is an ADVICE COLUMN. Ask me your questions about reading or writing and I will answer. I put out a call for questions a few substacks ago and received this one from “Hemingway off Track.”

Dear Meli,

I read 20 books this summer but none of them changed my life. Okay, one of them did! I loved Parable of the Sower, but other than that I feel proud at my steady cadence of 1-2 books a week, no book stands out among the stack though. I hate the moment when I finish a book and am in the limbo of not-having-a-book, I browse Libby and the like for my next read like I’m looking for something to eat (what sounds good?). I’m coming to you for advice: how do you broaden my horizons as a reader and read more books that almost ruin my life or change it or break it open. I feel like I used to read books that did that to me when I was 19, but was it because my brain was brand new to every adult experience? 

I also think this comes down to discipline too— eating something tasty versus healthy is akin to easy and fun versus hard and different. I feel like I’m missing something, why do I keep finishing books and going, “hm, that was fine.” 

Sincerely,

Hemingway off track 

Hemingway off Track,

Thanks for writing in. I have never read Parable of the Sower because I am afraid it will ruin my life by how much it’ll change it. I’m afraid of its power, is what I’m saying. Some people say that Octavia Butler wrote this book as a warning, but based on what I know about it, I think it’s more of an instruction manual. And I’m really bad at following directions.

Much like the first throws of love, there is nothing like a book ruining or changing your life forever. You are devastated and madly in love, and you want to text people about it! You do and they changed the subject. When I was working at a book store in my early twenties, this was every book I picked up. Someone once told me that there isn’t enough time in the world to not like the books you’re reading. It’s okay to put one down! But back then, every book was one I was in love with. Recently I’ve re-read books that changed my life forever at a formative age and you know what? The ground didn’t fall from beneath me again. I couldn’t understand why I had underlined a certain phrase or why I was so moved by a certain metaphor. My reading world expanded so much since then that I could see all the mechanics. Some things fell flat. While it’s thrilling and every writer hopes that their book enraptures you, being a reader isn’t always about being madly in love. If you’re reading a book and thinking “that was just okay,” its because you have taste now, and it will take a lot to please you, which is a blessing and a curse.

But if you want to get out of this slump, I would recommend reading non-fiction. Try Say Nothing, an investigative report about a murder during the Troubles that the writer actually solves. Or The Age of Magical Overthinking by Amanda Montell, about our plagued millennial brains. Nonfiction books can feel a little like podcasts, which is maybe so annoying of me to say, but I am who I am, and it is what it is. It’s fun to learn something! Sometimes its hard for us to jump into a new world and process the information of character, history, and world-building. It’s easier to focus on reality.

I think everyone also comes to a book for a different reason, and those reasons vary based on the seasons of your life. A friend of mine in law school could only read Stephen King while finishing up their degree. Another friend knows she doesn’t like when a lot of stuff is going on, so she stays away from books with too many characters. What is too much for you when you read? What do you need an escape from?

If you have a question for reading sucks, e-mail me at mlozadaoliva@gmail.com

WHAT I READ

A SUNNY PLACE FOR SHADY PEOPLE by Mariana Enriquez

Miguel got me an advanced reader’s copy for my birthday and I jumped up and down and squealed when it arrived in the mail. Best gift ever. I would’ve ripped through this collection of dark short stories in one day, but I wanted to savor them all. I keep telling people that every story is a slam dunk, except for maybe one about a fibroid, but I think that’s because it’s the only one that made me squeamish. In Mariana Enriquez’ world, ghosts are real and they’re lonely. Her horror is the cosmic, Lynchian kind: men with giant bald heads flash in an out of reality, sacks of bloody milk fall in front of your feet, worm-babies paint fucked up little portraits in ghost towns. She is not shy about her influences. In her acknowledgements, she cites Velvet Underground and Taylor Swift’s Folklore as inspirations, and at first I had trouble placing this, but she’s kind of a lover girl, Mariana. Characters are in and out love, missing their counterparts because they’re dead, or holding on to them tight because the world is cruel and unusual. The horror in her stories always reflects something sinister about the political world. Places capture violence, and ghosts return to them, as she writes, the way cats do, with tiny brains and small memories of where they were once loved.

WHEN READING SUCKS FOR JOSÉ OLIVAREZ

José Olivarez is the son of Mexican immigrants, and the author of two collections of poems, including, most recently, Promises of Gold—which was long listed for the 2023 National Book Awards. His debut book of poems, Citizen Illegal, was a finalist for the PEN/Jean Stein Book Award and a winner of the 2018 Chicago Review of Books Poetry Prize. Along with Felicia Rose Chavez and Willie Perdomo, he co-edited the poetry anthology, The BreakBeat Poets Vol. 4: LatiNEXT. Alongside Antonio Salazar, he published the hybrid book, Por Siempre in 2023. He lives in Jersey City, NJ.

What was reading like for you as a kid? 

English is my second language, so as a kid, I was pretty quiet, and books became a refuge for me. My family made trips to the library every couple of weeks because there was something there for all of us. My mom and dad checked out CDs. My brothers and I checked out books. Everything was free! I would check out like ten books at a time. I read anything that had to do with basketball. Slam by Walter Dean Myers was an early favorite. I remember reading On The Devil's Court as a seventh grader and loving it. Before those books, I loved The Boxcar Children series. Reading is a good excuse to not talk to people, and in those days, I was so worried I would embarrass myself if I spoke, that reading was a blessing. 

You're working on a novel right now and are a poet. Have you found yourself studying novels in order to write your own? If so, what are they? 

A fellow poet told me they learned to write novels by reading romance novels. After that, I got dinner with my friend, Caroline Rothstein, and told her this, and she told me her and her sister were devouring romance novels during the pandemic. She gave me a list of suggestions, so I've been reading a bunch of those. I loved A Proposal They Can't Refuse  by Natalie Caña, Just A Heartbeat Away by Cara Bastone, and Seven Days in June  By Tia Williams. In writing my own novel, I'm trying to keep the plot at the front of mind while also allowing my own writerly instincts to move and shape how they will. I guess I figure that I've been reading and writing poetry for so long that my poetry and language will shine because that's who I am as a writer, and I'm hoping that the book will move with pace and urgency and delight. 

I'll add that my favorite novelist of all time is Paul Beatty. I've read and reread The White Boy Shuffle more times than I can count. I love that book, and the poems in the book are brilliant. There are no poems in my novel yet, but there are references to Amiri Baraka and Nikki Giovanni.

One more inspiration: Island Of A Thousand Mirrors by Nayomi Munaweera. It's a perfect book. 

Describe your ideal reader, and then the opposite of your ideal reader. 

I feel fortunate that anybody reads my book, but here's my favorite story. After I released my first book of poems, someone told me that they were reading the poems out loud to their lover before bed. That's my ideal situation. I love picturing people cuddled up reading my poems out loud to each other. Imagine cooing to your beloved about punching Jeff Bezos in the face. It pleases me. 

What do you find to be the biggest literacy issue in the US?

I feel like I'm giving a lot of non-answers, but this is another one. I don't know what the biggest literacy issue is, but I will tell you that when I was a student at Harvard, I once turned in a poem about the trees in Cambridge. I was on my Robert Frost. Anyway, all the feedback that I got was about immigration. They were like, "the leaves changing colors is a metaphor for the ways immigrants have to assimilate to survive in cold environments." I learned that people read identity in addition to the language actually on a page, and sometimes read identity over and in spite of the language on the page. I don't think that's the biggest literacy issue in the United States, but it's something that's on my mind a lot. 

When do you feel very smart, and when do you feel like you don't know anything at all?

I feel very smart when I talk to my friends because they are brilliant. Same thing when I talk to my wife. She's so smart and funny and I hope a little bit rubs off on me. 

I feel like I don't know anything when I'm working on this novel. I'll finish a scene and I'll feel a moment of jubilation. Then, I'll feel absolute terror because I have to figure out what happens next. Writing poems is different. There's a lot of not knowing in poems, but when I finish a draft of a poem, I don't need to enter the world of that poem when I'm writing the next day. I know where my novel is headed, but I don't have every scene planned, and I'm spending so much time in this world. It's been a joy and headache, and I'm sure the first draft will be a disaster, but I'm glad I get to work with an amazing editor. 

When does reading suck and when does reading rule? 

Reading sucks when it feels like a chore. In addition to reading for pleasure, I'm often reading to give blurbs, reading to judge prizes, or reading to learn something about writing. Reading is a part of my profession. Reading and writing are a big part of how I make my living, and that has affected my relationship to both. It turns out that even being a writer is not a dream job. There are no dream jobs because having to make money to survive warps everything. I catch myself reading something- totally lost- because I'm trying to read just to finish my work. So I have to remind myself to slow down and be present constantly. 

Reading rules when I read something that makes me want to call my best friends and recite to tthem whatever it is that blew my mind. Here is one of those poems: Why I Hate Raisins by Natalie Diaz.

That’s all for this time, readers! Send me questions at mlozadaoliva@gmail.com