I read a rule, probably in the pandemic, on one of the many home organizing accounts I followed in lieu of actually organizing my home: if one item enters your abode, one must exit. While this is a most virtuous equation for symmetry, have you lived in late capital lately?! There are so many enticing THINGS and so many of them are to be found, left out curbside, strewn on the sidewalk for passersby. Maybe the inhabitants of these homes are actually following this rule and offloading their goods when they acquire something new. I was taking a walk with the daughter of a family friend, a young woman who is enrolled in a forensics linguistics graduate program (How cool?!?! And she’s looking for work over the summer, so get at me if you have a position to be filled) and she was agog with the hardcover, actual good books that pave the sidewalks of Carroll Gardens. Our rats are the most literate. And it’s not just books either, my kids’ favorite toys are cast-offs from neighbor children. This contactless freegan buffet is one of my favorite things about living in NYC.
ANYWAY I was recently on my way to meet a friend for dinner when I realized I had gotten the time wrong and would be even earlier than my usual five-minutes-before-appointed-hour-is-on-time protocol. (Scott and I have more than once arrived at events ahead of the hosts. It is pathological, but thank the marriage gods we are both built this way.) So, now I had time to kill. The residential neighborhood where my companion and I were meeting up was bereft of shopping/erranding opportunities. So when I passed the little free library, I stopped and perused
.
I grabbed French Exit by Patrick deWitt and dug in over an order of guac. It’s a hilarious novel about a codependent formerly wealthy, currently disgraced mother-and-son duo who flee New York for Paris. Immediately I was ensorcelled by deWitt’s gimlet eye and was LLOLing (literally lolling) chip shards out of my mouth. The book reminded me of my friend Christopher. The idea that I should send this to him flitted through my mind (The soundtrack of which you can experience here. My children have wrought an algorithmic nightmare on our digital listening platforms, which served up this song. I believe it is a raw transcription of my inner monologue.) Typically, this is the sort of idea (kind, generous) I have and then immediately dismiss as “a hassle” and “annoying.”
But something about the magic of this particular reading experience—the serendipity of stumbling upon the book because of some random dumb luck extra time, how very much I felt Christopher enjoying it—did not allow my murky water bucket of excuses to extinguish the little spark of inspiration. The very pages felt charged with good fortune and connection, and I felt compelled to pass that on.
So, after devouring the novel, in an uncharacteristic bout of magnanimity, I mailed the book to Christopher in Chicago. Don’t worry, I didn’t go to the actual post office, but paid a premium at one of those mailbox stores. It felt so heartening to pass along a little bit of good luck. So maybe the rule one thing in, one thing out should be revised simply to: pass it on.
(Mr. deWitt, I promise to pay full retail for your next title. I’m forever a fan.)
Might I also recommend:
Get your ugly ass a makeup lesson! I’ve been doing my makeup pretty much exactly the same since the early aughts and the effect is skinny jeans of the face, so I contacted the brilliant Sara Glick for a refresh. The punchline: LESS really is MORE, something my maximally-inclined worldview will always resist, but hachi machi, no??? Come see the softer side of Sears.
Are you watching the new ORNA?!?!? Remember how I interviewed her for my forthcoming book and she said the phrase “intergenerational errand” and I almost fell off my chair??! (Over the course of four months of emailing with her assistant I was eventually granted an audience of fifteen minutes, the ticking of which I have never been more aware because are there any more time-cognizant people on the planet than highly paid shrinks?!?!) This season is so good, no surprise, but what I need to know is who is the genius producer who realized Orna would be so damn magical onscreen?! Were they a patient?! I need the BTS! Especially the editing. A masterclass in editing!!!
Sally Franson’s latest is sublime—I read an ARC, but you can still preorder and give yourself an independence day gift! It is hilarious and smart, like the authoress, and takes place in the bright lights of a reality competition show in high summer Sweden and belongs to a favorite genre I share with the author—“Big hearted people achieving their goals.”
And that Teddy Wayne has done it again. I’m on p136 of The Winner and I audibly gasped!!!!
If you’ve ever loved and lost a pet, this will make ya cry.
And if you’ve ever loved and lost a friend or family member to addiction, Frances Dodds will make you cry. But even more poignant than that is the structure of this gorgeous essay—she condensed the entire universe into a moment at the checkout line. That girl is going places!!!
This is one billion years old in internet time, but I’m still thinking about these two iconic Met gala looks.
The latest edition to cruise canon literature, The Creed cruise
Cole Escola on Las Culturistas (On recasting Oh, Mary! with new actors: “Gun to my head? Pull the trigger!”)
Kate DiCamillo on Charlotte’s Web, the great American novel.
This is not exactly a replicable rec, but I saw a woman blow drying her feet in the gym locker room, and it was awesome.