Note: Lately


I suspect that my absence here means far more to me than it does to anyone else. Given this, I will say that the absence is felt strongly. I’m not sure what combination of life’s variables motivates this right here, but figuring that out is a top priority of mine. After starting and stopping too many books and then failing to choose any book at all, I was desperate for a straightforward recommendation from a reliable source; I’m skeptical of must-read lists, best-sellers receive far too much attention, and randomly browsing a bookstore rarely yields results. In late October, while scanning my own bookshelf with hands on hips for the nth time, I glimpsed An Uncommon Education and thought, I’ll ask Elizabeth Percer. She had proved exceptionally kind when I contacted her for a Q&A last year, so I thought I would test my luck again. Nevertheless, I was surprised to not only receive a swift response, but one that also reads like this:

I’m so sorry to hear that you’re in a book rut. Sometimes it’s good to let our fields go fallow. Walk around, read things other than books. Imagine the book you wish you could read, and tell people about it.”

Elizabeth ends her email with exactly the kind of recommendation that I was looking for: a single title and its author (So Long, See You Tomorrow by William Maxwell). I’ve since finished the book but I’m continuously re-reading it, settling in and opening to a random page, as if testing how much I remember. I love reaching the point in a book where no matter which page I flip to, I’m so familiar with the story that I can carry on without a hitch. So Long, See You Tomorrow is a simple story made rich by the details and emotions, much like our own lives. Books often have us dive into the ordinary lives of a cast of characters, only to lead us towards a bombshell that derails everything we’ve come to know and love/hate. In So Long, See You Tomorrow, the bombshell happens on the first page – Clarence kills Lloyd – and we work back and forth through time to answer all related questions. In her message, Elizabeth calls the book “generous and kind and brilliant,” and it doesn’t take long to discover exactly what that means. Maxwell takes great care in contextualizing the characters’ actions and motives, as if exonerating them, as if they have every reason in the world to behave exactly the way that they do. Perhaps we all do.
 
Best, Yuri
@yuriroho

Note: Mid-August

I peruse my photos and see dense clusters of flowers interspersed with very few other things, which I translate to mean a summer going well. June/July/August blur together in what feels like a vast, single swath of summer, so a glimpse of the finish line has inspired a newfound excitement. The sunflower above was seen on a Saturday visit to UC Berkeley’s Botanical Garden, a neighborhood enclave that magically feels far, far away.

I finished Val Brelinski’s The Girl Who Slept with God as soon as I could, admittedly motivated by two new books on my shelf. The book brims with dialogue, so the pages fly in a way that reminds me of reading a play. There are several well-developed characters of various walks of life, but we don’t dive deep into their lives, and instead each character serves to further the story of the Quanbeck family, especially that of Grace and Jory, sisters who have been exiled due to Grace’s unexpected pregnancy.

The tension between Grace and her parents is wonderfully portrayed. They are angry and ashamed, yet confront a daughter who finds meaning in her pregnancy due to faith, due to God’s supposed will. Grace’s faith is flawless; she effortlessly spouts scripture and indulges every compulsion to evangelize. But the feverish faith that her parents have instilled in her turns on them, as she uses this very faith to defend what they believe is indefensible. The story’s ending is horribly sad, far more so than I imagined, and the strangest thing is that despite tragedy, several of the characters whom I consider largely to blame fail to learn any lesson whatsoever. People prove to be stubborn, and beliefs often remain intact regardless of evidence and events to the contrary. This idea surfaces at the perfect moment, as I think it may play a crucial role in the next book on my list.

Follow

Note: Farewell, July

July will be difficult to miss because I hardly realized she was here before she was gone. July invokes the strongest visions of summer, perfectly positioned within the season, so its sudden passing leaves me a bit startled though not disappointed. July is for those who wait impatiently for summer, who prefer when the sun is high in the sky, and though I am appreciative, I am not overly enthusiastic. I grow weary when the sun refuses to stop shining, when it creates pressure to be happy, as in, it’s so bright outside, why feel otherwise? In regards to emotions I support equal opportunity, so a mix of sunshine and clouds serves me well.
 
The Fourth of July was spent in Los Angeles, a city that taps into parts of us that we wish to ignore (see Dry by Augusten Burroughs). My favorite memory from the holiday is picking up vegan chicken pizza at 10pm with amateur fireworks exploding in all directions. I spent time in San Diego the following weekend, and ever since I have settled myself at home in the Bay Area, celebrating summer in the small ways like listening to Leon Bridges’ Coming Home nonstop, and taking road trips north to Napa and south to Santa Cruz.
 
A thought that I carry into August is that comfort is one of the biggest obstacles to change; comfort keeps us still. I have yet to discover what exactly I will do with this piece of information, so cheers to August.