Into the Archivist's Mind: October Books

Drink a cup of tea with me while I reflect on the ten books I read in October.

Hello everyone, we’ve reached the end of October (can you believe Christmas is only a month away? I’m so excited this year!), so here I am at my desk, ready to write this month’s wrap up. It’s going to be a long one, I somehow managed to read ten books this month (I really need to get out more…) So, would you sit down and drink a lovely cup of tea with me? I’ve chosen Earl Grey for the occasion, but feel free to grab a coffee if it’s morning where you are, or maybe chamomile tea if you’re almost getting ready for bed.

As I said, this was a month full of books: a few that I’ll be talking about for ages, and others… well, let’s just say they won’t be sticking around on my shelf.

I promise I’ll try to keep these reflections as short as possible!

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The sundial written by Shirley Jackson (1958)

A place of my own, Mrs. Halloran thought, turning restlessly and dreaming in the great rosy bed with silk sheets, a place all my own, a house where I can live alone and put everything I love, a little small house of my own. The woods around are dark, but the fire inside is bright, and dances in moving colors over the painted walls, and the books and the one chair; over the fireplace are the things I put there. I will sit in the one chair or I will lie on the soft rug by the fire, and no one will talk to me, and no one will hear me; there will be only one of everything — one cup, one plate, one spoon, one knife. Deep in the forest I am living in my little house and no one can ever find me.

Another month, another Shirley Jackson novel! This one wasn’t my favorite but it was still a pleasure to read. In The Sundial we’re introduced to a big wealthy family with peculiar personalities that after losing a member, suddenly is informed that the world is gonna end. So, a few more characters appear in the story and they barricade themselves in the enormous family home and wait for the apocalypse. This book contains all of the things Shirley Jackson is so good at writing: we have a ghost, a creepy young woman, and of course a house that feels like a character itself. I found the writing excellent as always, the family dynamic and the conversations they share are always sharp and witty and even funny at times. She’s just so good at criticizing the privileged and the self centered eccentric members of the family. But even considering the length, (200+ pages maybe?) I often found it quite slow, I think this one will not make it on my top five Shirley Jackson list. I also wouldn’t recommend this to start your journey with her books, but I still think it’s worth reading after you’re familiar with her other books. 

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The Girls written by John Bowen (1986)

"Love" is a dangerous word to use. It cannot be spoken without bringing its reality into doubt. Lovers even at the height of passion often find it hard to say, "I love you" The words come more easily when passion has cooled and contracted and other interests have begun to fill the space. "I love you. Don't wait up." Love, once it dares to speak its name, is so easy to confuse with guilt, when "I love you" is likely to mean "I wish I loved you more than I do" or "I'm used to you" or even "Why do you continue to make emotional demands?"

I wanted to love this book so much, but unfortunately, it just didn’t deliver for me. The premise seemed so interesting, and the story itself is actually good, but the execution… maybe not so much. One of the protagonists, who is in a serious relationship and lives and works with the other main character (this is an important detail), spends the night with a man she just met and the result of this night is a child. When her girlfriend returns from a trip, she tells her what happened. Now, you’d obviously expect a strong reaction: your girlfriend cheated on you and is now pregnant with a stranger’s child. Well apparently in this book there are no real reactions. The girlfriend is so apathetic that I actually wondered if something was wrong with her. The love and emotions just weren’t there from either side, and this is a vital issue for me in books — if the relationships between the characters we’re reading about don’t feel real, why are we reading the book in the first place? This was my main problem with the book. The prose and, again, the story idea were fine, but it didn’t leave a lasting impression. 

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Dracula written by Bram Stoker (1897)

I am all in a sea of wonders. I doubt; I fear; I think strange things which I dare not confess to my own soul.

I always find it tricky with these type of beloved classics that feature an iconic character — I often expect something and after reading them I realize it was the opposite of what I anticipated. This happened to me with Frankenstein (which I loved!), and now with Dracula as well. I enjoyed it; I thought I would’ve loved it more, but it was nevertheless an enjoyable read. The atmosphere paired with the diary entries absolutely stole my heart. I loved Mina’s parts the most, but there wasn’t a dull moment, which is rare to find in a classic. Each character has their own distinct emotions and style of writing. They may be a bit dramatic at times, but I think gothic literature thrives on this kind of over the top reaction. The only thing I was disappointed in was Dracula himself. It’s strange to say, but I felt a bit frustrated every time I started a new chapter and he simply wasn’t there. The beginning of the novel was so perfectly creepy; I wish it had continued to be scarier and featured more of him physically in the story. But it’s considered a classic for a reason — and I can confirm: it’s a perfect October read! 

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A Good School written by Richard Yates (1978)

When you're talking, and I don't care who it's to or what it's about, the important thing is knowing when to stop. Never say anything that doesn't improve on silence.

Somebody should've said this to Richard Yates. Sorry, but this book infuriated me. The set up seemed promising. 1943, a beautiful autumnal setting, a New England prep school, a quiet boy, a girl involved in a romance, campus life and so on. To my naive mind, this was picture perfect. Now, I rarely hate on books but bear with me. Let’s start with the writing: it’s decent, nothing spectacular or remarkable and honestly easily forgettable. There wasn’t a single paragraph that stood out to me, no quote that made my heart skip a beat. And don’t even get me started on the characters cause I wouldn’t know where to begin. There are so many that I don’t remember the names of those who were supposed to be the protagonists. As I already said I love a big cast of characters in a book. Yes. When they have distinct well written personalities. In this book they all blend together, and you have no idea who is who. The descriptions of the women are terrible, misogynistic, with lines that even a boy of fourteen wouldn’t write. The book is set at an American college in the fall and yet there’s no mention of any classes that the students may take, not even a description of the weather or landscape! I’m getting frustrated just by thinking about this book again. Bland and uneventful, a shame.

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you guys I promise you I am actually drinking this cup of tea. but it’s still boiling hot!

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Embers written by Sándor Márai (1942)

Friendship is no ideal state of mind; it is a law, and a strict one, on which the entire legal systems of great cultures were built. It reaches beyond personal desires and self-regard in men's hearts, its grip is greater than that of sexual desire, and it is proof against disappointment, because it asks for nothing. One can kill a friend, but death itself cannot undo a friendship that reaches back to childhood; its memory lives on like some act of silent heroism, and indeed there is in friendship an element of ancient heroic feats, not the clash of swords and the rattle of sabers, but the selfless human act.

Well, this one was my favorite book of the month! Let’s talk about it: it’s a story about childhood friendship, seeing friendship as a duty, social class, remembrances, betrayal and most importantly: love. The characters are few but well developed, all carefully thought out and beautifully written. They intertwine perfectly with one another and their relationships feel genuine. I found the friendship between the two protagonists especially complex and authentic, as all friendships tend to be. I really loved Sandor’s prose — a lot of passages truly impressed me, and I could actually feel the protagonist’s loneliness as he secluded himself in his castle, rarely receiving anyone. I loved that the whole book essentially takes place over the course of one night, the confrontation between the two old friends is the heart of the story and I was glued to the pages from chapter one. The author goes so deep into the intricacies of friendship and love but I wished it had five hundred pages more to dug even more deeply. I can’t wait to reread this in a few years and see if I will still consider it a masterpiece.

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Poor Deer written by Claire Oshetsky (2024)

As she walked toward home she smelled the acrid smell of burning leaves in the air and it reminded her of winter coats. A fuzzy flock of birds was flapping in a slow circle above her head and she remembered she'd seen those same birds before, on some other day, and because her heart was full of faith, she knew for a fact that these birds were a sign unto her.

This short book revolves around young Margaret and her not-so-little secret, which she is desperately trying to confess. In my opinion, the use of an irreverent deer to personify guilt makes this book truly unique. Margaret is haunted by this figure, which just won’t let her live in peace. The story is told in a fragmented manner, shifting between the past and the present, as an adult Margaret struggles to put the true story of what happened to her friend Agnes down on paper and only succeeds intermittently. There are sections where you read something, only to turn the page and realize it was all a lie, a testament to Margaret’s continued inability to face the truth. I found this twist intriguing at first, though eventually a bit repetitive. But this novel made me reflect on childhood friendships: how many times we avoided taking the blame for something we were responsible for, and how often as adults, we look back and think: What could I have done differently? The themes of friendship, forgiveness in general, and especially self-forgiveness were spot on. This is a small book that deserves to be read.

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okay now you can actually see that I am drinking it. I usually take it with milk even if it’s earl grey, but a london fog it’s one of my favorite drinks ever!

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The Doll’s Alphabet written by Camilla Grudova (2017)

Our bodies were nuisances to the enjoyment of the machine.

I found this collection of stories repetitive and unsettling. The only one I truly enjoyed was ‘Agata’s Machine’, I love a good tale about troubled girls and their friendship. While this one story captivated me, the majority felt forgettable and I soon forgot all about them. The graphic descriptions in several stories were too much at times, just like the unnecessary physical abuse. To make a story uncomfortable and eerie and grotesque you do not need disgusting descriptions of abuse. Also, the author included a myriad of endless lists for no particular reason, interrupting the flow of the narrative and becoming annoying. I also couldn’t seem able to deciphering “the doll’s alphabet” and I actually searched for the answer online, which no one has. I think Grudova wanted to pay an homage to the “weird stories club” (Shirley Jackson, Kafka…) but the result wasn’t the best.

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Ghosts written by Edith Wharton (1937)

Silence - more silence! It seemed to be piling itself up like the snow on the roof and in the gutters. Silence. How many people that she knew had any idea what silence was - and how loud it sounded when you really listened to it?

My second short story collection of the month and my second Wharton. Sometimes, you read an author and think: I get why people love this, but it’s just not for me. This was my thought while reading The Age of Innocence earlier this year, and now I feel the same way with Ghosts. I think she’s great at setting a scene in general, but especially here: we have creepy mansions, dead wives who haunt the people they left behind, and ghosts of every kind: dogs, people, even guilt is portrayed as a haunting presence. This is all great; the stories never seemed repetitive, dull, or boring. But her prose doesn’t do anything for me. I don’t find it interesting, and I get easily distracted while reading her writing. At first, I thought maybe it’s because English isn’t my first language — perhaps I can’t fully immerse myself in her words — but I’ve been reading books in English for more than a decade now, so I don’t want to underestimate myself. I can admit that sometimes it’s just personal taste. Maybe I’ll try again with The House of Mirth, but probably in a few years. Two Edith Wharton books in one year actually felt like fifty to me. But read this if you, unlike me, have more polished taste and love a good ghost story.

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The Master and Margarita written by Mikhail Bulgakov (1967)

(translated by Pevear &Volokhon)

Love leaped out in front of us like a murderer in an alley leaping out of nowhere, and struck us both at once.

This was a strange and unique novel, and reading it was certainly an experience. I was confused but fascinated by all the layers that this book possesses, maybe I did find this and all the characters and stories a bit overwhelming, but the themes are without doubt interesting and thought provoking, especially the whole narration around Pilate and Yeshua. I have to admit I didn’t particularly enjoy the book, but there were parts that stood out to me: Margarita’s character for one, and her story with the Master. Here the author included some beautiful paragraphs, and wrote Margarita as the heart of the story, a breath of fresh air between all the chaos. I do wonder if my experience would have been different with another translation, I suspect I picked the wrong version, sometimes it felt like it was missing something and maybe Bulgakov’s original tone got lost. I always thought that this was a book that I would either love or hate, but, and i’m not saying it’s a bad book, I actually felt indifferent about it. Also on a more frivolous note: I always see people recommend this as an “october spooky book” but I actually found this perfect for the summertime and not at all autumnal! 

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The Nun written by Denis Diderot (1780/1796)

I have a striking face; my great suffering had changed it but taken nothing from its character. I have a voice which touches the heart and my expression bears the stamp of truthfulness. […]
“Sister Suzanne, do you believe in God the Father, Son and Holy Ghost?”
I answered: “I do believe.”
“Do you renounce Satan and all his works?”
Instead of replying I suddenly leaped forward and uttered a loud scream.

I loved this one. I was surprised, especially considering it was written in 1780. The Nun by Denis Diderot was captivating, and very modern in the criticism of the church. The horrible life of Suzanne, forced to take her vows and confined to a convent against her will, it’s told through letters — I really enjoyed that, it was smooth and felt intimate, I couldn’t stop reading it! This story is one of isolation, physical and emotional abuse, cruelty, and claustrophobia. Suzanne herself is a force: she’s brave and rebellious and I grew to care for her in a short amount of pages (just about 200!) As I have said before, I was impressed and surprised by Diderot’s portrayal of a woman’s struggle and faith. Growing up in the catholic church, I was and still am interested in religion, despite considering myself an atheist (as Diderot himself). I think the conversation around the institution of the church and the abuse we often find within it’s never ending and we still need to talk about it today. I strongly recommend this. 

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well that was indeed a lovely cup of tea, don’t you think?

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see you next month!

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