What I Read This Week
Tana French Hive, OCD as the Villain, and What I've Learned about Reading
I started this newsletter five years ago, deep in the pandemic trying to stay sane by reading one book a week. I had a mullet then that I feel like I got against my will, but really I’m just bad with conflict. You ever middle-child your way into a mullet? Anyway, I wanted to document everything that distracted me because I felt my distractions were useful and it was also a way to be mindful. As the world opened up, more and more distractions came and I let the rigidity of my reading schedule go. Here are five things I’ve found about reading in the last five years.
If you want to be a writer, you need to read, and you need to like reading. You cannot constantly be thinking “Oooh, what can I steal from this?” You have to let go of your ego and enjoy something. Be a fan.
Crash-reading is the wrong way to read. You won’t remember a single thing and then, what was the point?
Being on my phone is like binge-drinking and reading is like drinking water.
Underlining while I read isn’t a crime.
There’s nothing wrong with a little plot. Genre is actually an ancient form.
I’ve been recovering from an OCD flare up that’s been inducing panic attacks. Two weeks ago I was getting my nails done and just started feeling really creeped out by the UV Rays. I couldn’t look at what was happening to my hands. I was nauseous. I lept up before she was done and felt shaky, dizzy, unable to recognize anything around me. The nail tech brought me to a couch but I sank to the floor with my legs spread, moaning. I was wearing old period underwear that was too big on me and only covering up half of my pussy like an eye patch. Sometimes your pirate pussy is out at the nail salon and you don’t notice because you feel like you’re dying. That wasn’t part of the Lorde song. Han picked me up and told me I was the third person who’s called him this week having a panic attack. I’m so grateful for him.
I really have hated every moment of this and am really grateful for my amazing partner and friends who’ve been patient with me as I start “feeling weird” in a restaurant. What’s been helping me is mindfulness exercises (5 things I can see, 4 things I can hear, 3 things I can touch, 2 things I can smell, one thing I can taste) as bullshit as they feel, making sure I’m hydrated and nourished, saying my weird thoughts out loud, agreeing with them until they deflate like old balloons at the worst party of all time, and reading one of the greatest mystery writers of all time, Tana French.
During one of our last shifts together, my coworker Ceara told me that they couldn’t stop reading mysteries. They’re a poet and they just love mysteries. I told them I felt like I was in a reading slump and that every modern book gave me some kind of social anxiety. Another diaspora novel with cannibalism. Another millennial adrift discovers a hole. We’re all killing ourselves to have our work be called an Unexpected Marvel by some unpaid intern at Kirkus. Ceara recommended Tana French. I hopped down to the basement, where CFF houses a grand mystery collection that looks like it could be the site of a murder. The lights only turn on with movement. The hallway with the bathrooms live is painted red, giving everything a spooky little glow. I’d spent my lunch break here having a panic attack several months before after spilling chocolate sauce on one of my favorite green dresses. I feel safe here but sometimes I find myself running back up the stairs, certain someone is lurking behind the shelves. I searched the spines for In The Woods and checked it out immediately.
JESUS, WHEN WILL YOU BE HERE?
-My collection of short stories Beyond All Reasonable Doubt, Jesus is Alive! comes out September 2nd. You can pre-order here. Pre-orders really, really help me. Please pre-order! If you use that link, you’ll receive a signed book and a free postcard that’s also a beautiful print. Do you hate prints? Do you send mail? I think it’s nice to frame stuff and put it up and maybe even send a note to someone you love but maybe I live in my own dying world and everyone actually hates art and connection. Could this be you?
-I’m planning a book a tour while planning a curriculum for my class at Columbia University this September, hence the OCD flare-ups. Anyway, I genuinely love reading my stuff out loud and meeting people who read my books. Here’s where I’ll be:
September 4th with Alejandro Varela at the Center for Fiction in NYC (if you’re reading this then only you know there will be spontaneous karaoke).
Tuesday, September 9th at Blue Marble in Philly with Sadie Dupuis
Thursday September 11th at Riff Raff in Providence, RI
Saturday, September 13th “Books at Burlesque” at Caveat in NYC
Tuesday September 16th at Porter Square Books in Cambridge, MA with Nicky Gonzalez
Tuesday, September 23rd at Lost City Books in Washington DC with Rax King
Wednesday, September 24th at Greedy Reeds in Baltimore with Gerárdo Cordova
Wednesday, October 8th at Skylight Books in Los Angeles with Olivia Gatwood
WHAT I READ
I have to say that I can never tell if I actually like something or if I’m just going through it and have been hyperfixating to keep my brain from short-circuiting. Anyway, LOVED this. When I started feeling a strange flare-up coming, I’d sit on the couch and start reading this book. In the Woods follows Adam Robert Ryan, a detective in Ireland investigating the murder of a 12-year-old girl in the archeaological site he and his friends used to play in — in the same woods his friends disappeared into and never returned. As a child he was found scratching at a tree, large slashes across his back, blood in his shoe, with no memory of what happened. As he delves further into the case he finds shocking connections to the great mystery of his own life. Tana French beautifully binds crime fiction and the supernatural (or is it Nighttime Logic) and makes you question what’s scarier: what lies deep in the woods or your own fucked up judgement. Big take aways: 1) men are stupid and selfish and don’t deal with their trauma. 2) Childhood is the biggest mystery of them all. I think people don’t like this one as much because they wanted something firm and cemented. And this mystery is a bit like reading tarot: the symbols are all there, it’s just up to your interpretation. Where do metaphor and trauma collide? While the plot hooked me and kept me planted in my chair and my nervous system regulated, Tana French’s grip on character is so sick. Every movement, every mannerism, every haircut, every nuanced interaction was so delicious. I was late to a beach day with my sister because I made Miguel drive me to the book store to pick up the next book in the series The Likeness.