currently reading: The Trouble with Being Born by E. M. Cioran
books finished:
Little by Edward Carey
books received:
Person/a by Elizabeth Ellen
Saul Stories by Elizabeth Ellen
Property of the Rebel Librarian by Allison Varnes
Jell-o Girls: A Family History by Allie Rowbottom (e-galley)
Caroline's Bikini by Kirsty Gunn
books bought:
Dead Girls by Alice Bolin
The Trouble with Being Born by Emil Cioran (trans. Richard Howard)
Hey you,
I have figured out the Secret and I'm happy to share it with you.
I wanted to read Elizabeth Ellen's book Person/a, which I'd heard wonderful things about, and which my friend/book critic boy wonder Brad said was one of the most overlooked books of the year, or something like that, I'm not about to fact check this newsletter, I'm not being paid enough. Anyway, I thought to myself, What is the best way to manifest a copy of Person/a into my life? I meditated upon this and decided I should buy a copy. Then instead of doing that I tweeted "im [sic] trying to will a copy of elizabeth ellen's person/a into my life." And then I got a copy in the mail a few days later.
That's the Secret in action! Just throw all your desires into the Void, which is twitter, and they will all be realized, I'm sure of it.
It might've helped that Elizabeth Ellen's husband follows me on twitter and that he left himself signed in on a laptop she was using. It might've helped that my twitter profile says "bookseller." There are a lot of things that might've helped and I feel bad about all of them. Not bad enough to not accept free books, obviously, but still, you know, kind of bad.
A related thing I feel bad about: I'm like, 500% more likely to read a book if the author follows me on twitter. It's not that I get a new follow and I see that it's a writer and click the link in their bio to buy their books, but if there's a book I've heard about and am kinda interested in, yeah, a twitter follow absolutely will make the difference. And if I'm twitter friends with someone the percentage goes up to like, 1000%. Is that wrong? It feels wrong.
Sometimes I think it's OK, though. This week, during a quiet moment at the bookstore, I was reading Edward Carey's book Little (out 10/23) while standing behind the counter. I was about fifty pages in when my coworker came up to me and asked how it was. She has a copy too, so when I told her I was enjoying it she was glad. She said something vague about being interested in Madame Tussaud and I said, "Oh, is the main character supposed to be Madame Tussaud?" Then she laughed, and then she realized I wasn't joking, and then she mocked me mercilessly. It turns out that the very first line on the back of the book (and it's even in a font slightly larger than the font on the rest of the back cover, that's how noticeable it is) is: "The wry, macabre, unforgettable tale of an ambitious orphan in Revolutionary Paris, befriended by royalty and radicals, who transforms herself into the legendary Madame Tussaud." Hm. Fair play to my coworker.
But, see, I was reading Little because Cal Morgan, an editor at Riverhead who follows me on twitter, edited it. (Is editing it?) So sometimes my dumb accidental arbitrary twitter rule works out, sometimes it exposes me to work I'd never have read otherwise. And I wouldn't have read this otherwise. The reason I hadn't read the back cover was because I saw the words "In 1761" on it, and I know I don't tend to like historical fiction, and I didn't want to bias myself further. I saw "In 1761," and I thought, OK, but Cal worked on it, and then I read it and really enjoyed it.
I don't have any comp titles for it, don't have any works to compare it to. I don't know if this is just because I know absolutely nothing about the genre (obviously) or if it's because the book is truly singular, but I feel like there's a chance it could actually be the latter, and that would be quite an accomplishment.
I'm reading The Trouble with Being Born because one of you recommended it to me. (I didn't expect such a dialogue when I started this thing, I just pictured a long-winded monologue, and it turns out the dialogue is so much better. I'm grateful for it.) The Trouble with Being Born is very much about just that; Cioran places all of life's pains and problems on the fact that we were born, and it's hard to argue with that logic. Much better not to argue, then, and instead read someone else be despairing so eloquently. It's wonderful insomnia reading, both because it's written in small passages and aphorisms and also because Cioran writes about insomnia with anger, finally, instead of desperation: "What is that one crucifixion compared to the daily kind any insomniac endures?"
I don't think my insomnia is comparable to a crucifixion, but it's been worse than usual lately, and everything feels as if, to borrow a phrase from Richard Siken, it's happening at the wrong end of a very long tunnel. I keep having mundane dreams about doing errands and mistaking it for reality, crossing laundry off my to-do list even though I've only done it in my dreams. I thought I had a dream that I emailed my ex-boyfriend his horoscope, but when I happened to look in my sent folder today I realized I actually sent it to him with the subject line "your horosc." When I say "today," I mean "just now." I am going to go take a very long walk into the Charles River.
your friend,
Smalls