I’m still reading one book a day. (But the #BlackLivesMatter movement is the priority.)

DAY 68: BONJOUR TRISTESSE

I finished this in an hour; it pairs beautifully with a cup of coffee. Bonjour Tristesse is the ultimate coming-of-age that explores teenage hedonism and amorality. It ends rather tragically, but what it offers is insight without interference from hindsight or a better-than-thou narrator. I can’t believe I’ve only just read Françoise Sagan’s overnight sensation now (and to think I called myself a Francophile at 16, 17!).

DAY 69: LETTERS TO A YOUNG POET

Letters to a Young Poet is a collection of ten letters from Rainer Maria Rilke, written in earnest desire to offer his insight and experience to a young mentee. Never is there a sense of withholding or superiority; Rilke gives all, conducting a private writing workshop, essentially, for this poet-to-be. It’s beautiful. Truly a treasure of inspiration and how-to for any artist in pursuit of bohemia.

DAY 69 (CONT’D): WHILE THE WOMEN ARE SLEEPING

While the Women are Sleeping was my first experience with acclaimed Spanish novelist Javier Marías—and while Marías’ style isn’t one I would normally gravitate towards, I can’t deny how enduring (albeit haunting) his stories are. They’re strange, yes, A little disturbing, most definitely. And yet as confusing—utterly perplexing, honestly—as some of his plots are, they’re delightful in the most lurid of fashions.

I’m interested in reading more of his work.

 

DAY 70: SEX AT DAWN

I can’t rave about this book enough. In fact, I implore you to read it. Yes, Sex at Dawn: How We Mate, Why We Stray, and What It Means for Modern Relationships *is* about sex, but it’s not just about the mechanics of copulation. (After all, sex is so rarely about the physical act itself. It’s an exchange of some sort: of power, love, etc.) Instead, it’s a provocative study that starts with the reexamination of prehistoric origins we once took for granted and challenges how we’ve always thought about sex every step of the way. It would be impossible not to explore sexuality or gender dynamics either, and the writers Christopher Ryan and Calcida Jetha do so spectacularly.

Plus, it’s sheer pleasure to read.

DAY 70 (CONT’D): ORNAMENT AND SILENCE

Ornament and Silence: Essays on Women’s Lives was the perfect follow-up to Sex at Dawn. It’s an exquisite set of portraits (Kennedy Fraser is a gifted storyteller and for lack of a better descriptor, word stylist) that offers insight on the dynamics between women and men, women and society, and women’s view of themselves.

“[The history of most women is] hidden either by silence, or by flourishes and ornaments that amount to silence.”

— Virginia Woolf

DAY 71: THE WRITER ON HER WORK

Like Ornament and Silence, Janet Sternburg’s The Writer on Her Work is a collection of women and their relationship with themselves (society, and work), only each essay is written in the first person by the writer herself. Of course I loved this. (I have the second volume waiting in my cart.)

DAY 72: WRITERS & LOVERS

Lily King’s (author of Euphoria fame) Writers & Lovers came highly recommended by the Insta-book clubs of the digital space, and I couldn’t resist. Was it an earth-shattering, mind-blowing read? No. Was it a lovely Sunday read? Yes. (Plus, the cover art is beautiful.)

DAY 73: CLEOPATRA

I should preface this with the admission that Cleopatra is one of my top idols and icons of all time—an admiration I’ve carried since I discovered her story. Part of it was built on the hyperbole that became the Cleopatra fantasy in books, of course; I adored her despite and because of her notoriety, too. Stacy Schiff’s biography of Egypt’s last queen is simply luminous. It’s one of the best (if not, the best) historical accounts on Cleopatra’s life I’ve read so far; it clear why Schiff won the Pulitzer Prize.

DAY 74: THE DIARY OF ANAIS NIN, VOLUME I (1931 – 1934)

I’m re-reading Anaïs Nin’s diaries again. She’s one of few writers I feel so in tune with—and my god, her diaries are enrapturing. Her best works, without a doubt.

.   .   .

xx