summer reading
Just lots of books and coffees on tables
There have been so many times in the last few weeks in which I’ve thought of writing in here but it’s felt too hollow, too utterly pointless. The news moves so quickly, and it overwhelms. I really appreciated Sara’s words and articulation of how to find meaning when it feels impossible; maybe you will also.
Summer: the hydrangea heads are heavy, the peaches are ripe, and soon my diet will be mostly tomatoes and green beans from my parents’ lush garden. For me, summer means packing up my laptop and working from near wherever my kid is attending day camp since it’s easier than going home and back, and it usually means that I get to enjoy modern wonders such as central air conditioning. I’ve been working from the university this week, which suits me well—it’s hard to believe I came here every day for twenty years, and now I rarely do. I’ve visited the stacks multiple times a day, I’ve tried out some new study areas (for now, mostly devoid of those who study), and I’m currently in a beautifully remodeled reading room in Robarts Library, at a window that looks out to Hart House and University College. I have a view of towers and the tops of trees at their most verdant.
My son just turned 8 (8!), so I am feeling more maudlin than usual. We’ve been in this summer routine for the last 3 years, and I know it will change before I know it, when the camps are considered too childish, or are simply not available. But for now I’m enjoying the extra time we have together on our daily transit commutes, as he reaches for my hand with his (still very very small) hand, enormous backpack on, and asks me a thousand questions. He’s weirdly obsessed with flashlights right now and keeps trying to come up with payment plans for a $115 one he saw in a camping supply store. I suppose I did give him a name that derives from the Latin word for light, after all.
It’s hard to imagine being cruel to a kid when you see how tiny their hands are.
I got into the habit of stopping at a coffee shop a few times a week after dropping my son off at school in order to get in a little more reading time before I start my work day. I’m lucky to live in an area in which there are many lovely coffee shops to choose from, but after realizing that a newly-opened coffee shop in my neighbourhood charges nearly $12 for an iced latte (not a life-changing one either, a merely fine one), I’ve had to cut back. But now that I’m on summer hours and am travelling around the city for the day camps, as I said, I have more time to seek out other places. It’s peaceful and it’s a joy in my life, and I usually snap a photo to remember the moment. So many delicious coffees, so many great books. I would love to have a lush garden of my own that I could walk out to and my own espresso machine, but for now this will do (I have so many summer childhood memories of eating in the backyards of family friends under a canopy of grapes—that is the dream. My kingdom for a grape arbour and a large table under it).
A few of those moments.
I read this Simone de Beauvoir as a bit of a palette cleanser after All Fours (I have had so many great conversations about that book over the last few weeks with fellow haters). This book compiles three novella-length books and a line in the title story made me laugh out loud: in one of the scenes in which the narrator confronts her unfaithful husband, he bangs the table and shouts “All this tittle-tattle!” Amazing.
A while ago I found myself thinking about the movie Kissed, which I saw in theatres when I was a teenager. I never thought I’d feel nostalgic for 1990s Toronto, as I spent most of my teenage years dreaming of where I could move away to that was bigger and “better,” but wow, am I ever nostalgic for many aspects of 1990s Toronto. I dug up the Barbara Gowdy short story collection that included the story the movie was based on, We So Seldom Look on Love (it has the movie tie-in, and is a prized possession) and this one, The Romantic. This is a very Toronto book: ravines feature prominently. I loved it.
Slow-reading Dante this summer as I am trying to savour it. It makes me so happy. It’s a wonderful summer project, if I do say so myself. I am so glad I thought of it. Lol.
More full-cover author photos, please! (This is Deborah Levy, an edition that combines Swallowing Geography and Beautiful Mutants).
Turns out reading about Lisbon is no substitute for actually being in Lisbon and makes one want to be in Lisbon more.
Scaffolding is an early contender for my favourite book so far this year. It’s not often that I am left with a reading list and a list of movies to watch or re-watch after I’ve read a work of fiction. Gorgeous. I finally watched Les nuits de la pleine lune because of it; I’ve been listening to the music from it for years, ever since my friend B recommended the soundtrack. I got excited when this title came up.
Related: not a coffee shop table but a pleasing floral sofa at my in-laws’ house. Includes delightful essays about watching Rohmer movies. Just extraordinarily pleasant summer reading.