Into the Archivist's Mind: November Books
Reflections about the seven books I read this November.
November has come to an end and I managed to read seven books this month. One of them was on my Kindle — as I’m trying to use it more since it doesn’t give me the headaches that tiny font in physical books sometimes causes me. Unfortunately though, the idea of not having a physical copy of a book I have read to add to my bookshelves reeeally makes my skin crawl, but I’ll work on making peace with it in the new year.
This wasn’t my favorite reading month but there were still a few gems that made it worthwhile.
As always, thank you for reading my reviews!
Orbital written by Samantha Harvey.
Over fifty years without a human foot on its back, our moon, and does it turn its bright side in longing to the earth in the hope of the humans' return? Does it, and all of the other moons and planets and solar systems and galaxies, yearn to be known?
Sometimes beautiful things are boring. And to me boring is not always bad. That’s how I would describe this book. Funnily enough I started reading it just a day before it won the Booker Prize, so I was really excited to finish it! I don’t often read books set in space so I was curious about this one where we follow six astronauts as they orbit Earth on the International Space Station. The story takes place over the course of one day and is essentially a long reflection on life, with long but stunningly written meditations on planet Earth. I knew that there wouldn’t be a definite plot in this book and I didn’t mind that but when there’s no plot, I usually expect strong characters to make the story interesting. Unfortunately I didn’t find them here, even with six different astronauts to follow I couldn’t connect with any of them and they all felt underdeveloped, but I also think that what the author really wanted to focus on were other things: If you’re thinking of reading this, I think it’s important to know that Earth is the heart of the story. The writing about our planet is beautiful and worth reflecting on and even if the characters didn’t quite work for me, I still loved having all those big questions and thoughts about our existence stuck in my mind after reading this book.
Study for Obedience written by Sarah Bernstein.
I wanted so badly to live in my life, wanted to meet it head on, wanted above all for something to happen, for this terrible yearning to be quenched. What was underneath it all, vibrating beneath the faces of the people I saw, something in their expressions? What howls restrained there, by decorum, by cowardice, for fear of sinking? I was moved by the trees that lined the road, reaching over and across, towards one another. The crowns of birches, of oaks and elms, all rolling against the sky, flashing up their pale undersides in the wind, how was it that very thing brought me so low? It was only a tree in springtime, only the memory of sitting in the empty bleachers behind the high school, still a girl, feeling as if my skin would burst open, but nothing, nothing ever happened. It was not a message or an omen. It was not loneliness. What, then? What was this air one breathed?
Let’s start by saying that I appreciated the eerie tone of this book, I wanted to read a dark story almost reminiscent of folk tales, and I think I got that. Unfortunately, I found it confusing and at times boring. This was an unusual and introspective novel that follows an unnamed woman who moves to a remote northern town to care for her brother after his wife leaves him. Strange things start to happen after her arrival and the community grows suspicious, and starts to blame her. I found Bernstein’s prose to be atmospheric, and she created a tense and claustrophobic environment and I really felt the narrator’s isolation. There are some interesting parts where she describes life as the youngest sibling in a big family, and I really resonated with that, even though the tension between her and her brother felt awkward, tense, and uncomfortably close. This dynamic was unsettling, and I found it hard to fully understand what she was trying to explain there. I also didn’t love the internal monologue style and abstract reflections. There’s little to no dialogue in this book, and even though we’re basically living in the protagonist’s mind, I still struggled to completely connect with her. It’s an intriguing book, but it left me feeling a bit confused by the end.
Lighthousekeeping written by Jeanette Winterson.
I used to be a hopeless romantic. I am still a hopeless romantic. I used to believe that love was the highest value. I still believe that love is the highest value. I don't expect to be happy. I don't imagine that I will find love, whatever that means, or that if I do find it, it will make me happy. I don't think of love as the answer or the solution. I think of love as a force of nature - as strong as the sun, as necessary, as impersonal, as gigantic, as impossible, as scorching as it is warming, as drought-making as it is life-giving. And when it burns out, the planet dies. My little orbit of life circles love.
I actually had to stop myself from reading this in one sitting, I was completely captivated by this story! The narrative is not always linear and I didn’t mind that (even though I enjoyed the first half more than the second) I don’t think this book will be for everyone. This is a delicate yet powerful exploration of storytelling. I loved Silver, the curious and witty narrator. She’s a young orphan girl who, after some trouble with her schoolteacher, finds herself taken in by the old lighthouse keeper, Mr. Pew. This story takes place on the cliffs of Scotland, where we follow Silver’s journey with storytelling. As she learns to be a lighthouse keeper, she asks Pew to tell her a story and within a few pages we’re drawn into other interconnected stories. Through symbolism and metaphors, we swim through these narratives as the author explores profound themes: there’s love of course, despair, loss, legacy, the eternal light vs. dark argument, history, there are Darwin, Robert Louis Stevenson, and even Tristan and Isolde. I still didn’t loved some of the violent moments, and I cared so deeply about Pew and Silver that I often found myself rushing through the other stories to return to the lighthouse. But there’s still a beautiful balance of fragility and strength in Winterson’s writing. Her prose is luminous and poetic. The ambiance of the lighthouse is beautiful, stormy, and so alive that it almost feel like a character itself. It stands strong against the rain and tempestuous winds, symbolizing Silver’s isolation and Pew’s guidance. I also loved the mystery of the whole story. This book made me imagine and reflect. As I mentioned, the narrative is far from linear but it’s still introspective and it left me with a sense of wonder and magic. I can’t wait to read more books written by Jeanette Winterson.
Recitatif written by Toni Morrison.
Two little girls who knew what nobody else in the world knew — how not to ask questions. How to believe what had to be believed.
In this short story we follow two women: Twyla and Roberta. They first meet as little girls in an orphanage and being the only children there with living mothers, they immediately form a bond that grows into a complicated friendship. I found this story so intriguing because we, as readers, know one of them is black and one is white but Morrison never tells us who is which, she keeps their races ambiguous leaving us constantly guessing and questioning our assumptions. With all these layers of ambiguity I found myself reflecting on how much our perceptions can change over time, shaped by our own experiences and memory. Even if this didn’t captivate me as fully as some of her novels like Sula or Beloved, I still loved how Morrison wrote about human complexity and memory, reminding me again of her ability to capture the intricate layers of humankind.
Pure Colour written by Sheila Heti.
She felt so alone in those days. Not that she minded. It is only when you get older that everyone makes you feel bad about being alone, or implies that spending time with other people is somehow better, because it proves you to be likeable. But being unlikeable wasn't the reason she was alone.
She was alone so she could hear herself thinking.
She was alone so she could hear herself living.
This book is not for everyone, strange and philosophical as it is, I’m even finding it difficult to write a review for it. Pure Colour is a surreal story about Mira, who is living in the first draft of creation. In this world, people fall into three archetypes: birds, fish, and bears, each one of them possesses different values and ways of living. There’s not really a plot in this book, but some key events are Mira’s father’s death and her love story with Annie. I think the romance part could’ve been deeper, and I really wanted to know Annie better. After Mira’s father dies, she is transported into a strange connection with him, and together they become a leaf. I thought this unusual, father-daughter relationship sometimes was too intense and uncomfortable, but it reflects the depth of their bond and how grief changes her. In between these plot lines, there are some beautifully written paragraphs about all kinds of topics: the author writes about God and symbolism, again - grief, human responsibility towards the environment, and even anti-space invasion. Here, she raises questions that made me reflect on all of these themes. Even if it’s hard to follow and understand exactly what’s going on at times, these passages are what make this book worth reading. So, Pure Colour isn’t easy to explain or always easy to read, it’s confusing at times but if you like books that make you think and don’t mind a bit of weirdness, there’s something really special here.
The Salt Path written by Raynor Winn.
Perhaps we were all looking for something. Looking back, looking forward, or just looking for something that was missing. Drawn to the edge, a strip of wilderness where we could be free to let the answers come, or not, to find a way of accepting life, our life, whatever that was. Were we searching this narrow margin between the land and sea for another way of being, becoming edgelanders along the way? Stuck between one world and the next. Walking a thin line between tame and wild, lost and found, life and death. At the edge of existence.
I don’t usually read memoirs, I don’t know why, I think they really need to be interesting to me, but I’ve been wanting to give them a try. I decided to pick up this book because the story seemed worth reading, and I was right. It tells the journey of a married couple, Raynor and Moth, as they face the loss of their home and Moth’s terminal illness. It’s a moving story of an extraordinary love that truly reminds you of what really matters. The chapter addressing the homelessness crisis is especially moving: real, actual, and heartbreaking. As heart-wrenching as the couple’s story as they embark on this seemingly endless walk, meeting all kinds of people along the way: eccentric or disagreeable, loving and kind. I believe this book beautifully captures the essence of humanity. It’s written in a simple, flowing style that makes it a pleasure to read.
Self-Help written by Lorrie Moore.
That is what is wrong with cold people. Not that they have ice in their souls — we all have a bit of that — but that they insist their every word and deed mirror that ice. They never learn the beauty or value of gesture. The emotional necessity. For them, it is all honesty before kindness, truth before art. Love is art, not truth. It's like painting scenery.
Reading this book felt like I was reading about the same person over and over again, each character (always a woman) felt like a slightly different version of the last: cold and detached. They were way too much similar to each other and I found them to be equally irritating. This was a series of short stories about relationships, affairs, loss, and life in general, but I simply didn’t connect with it. Moore’s writing style also wasn’t for me. Her prose felt like a long list, and it also found it to be detached and tiresome. Even if it’s only a few pages long, this really felt like a 600 pages book to me. I kept waiting for something interesting to happen but it never really did. At the end I just felt underwhelmed.
see you next month!
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