My Summer In Books (2023)

Apropos of nothing, here is a collection of books and anecdotes about those books I've spent my summer reading.

These are not reviews. If they must be named something they might be named a time capsule of small moments of the season, which would otherwise only exist in between the lines of books sitting on my shelves or in my memories, alone.

Since I'm always half way through several (dozen) books at once, I've decided to only include books I actually read cover to cover.

Though, by "read" I tend to mean a lot of very different things that may or may not include falling asleep listening to words in a language I don't understand.

i.

The long days spent idling In the Garden, intermittently reading essays about Englishness and garden-making and the many ways gardens can either symbolise class divides or become spaces of community building depending on who is tending to them.

ii.

The many train rides to gigs, museums, and writing workshops with nothing but a pocket full of poetry, mostly Louise Glück's The Wild Iris read over and over, its poems pulled out like tarot cards to ponder for the day as I - a diligent rule follower - "go where I am planted, like all things, where the wind takes me"

iii.

The walks into ancient woodland, my eyes wide open and What's that tree? ID book in hand. Then, as if suddenly, the magic of taking shelter under a beech tree I recognised first and foremost by consulting its leaves and the fallen seeds beneath my feet.

iv.

The evening afloat spent cloud watching and moon gazing, reading the refracted words of a woman defying every expectation of certain historical fate. It is a comfort to know at least that with Sappho, we may share the sound of crickets and the pleasures of a summer day.

v.

The airport bookshop where I picked up Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow, and it delivered me an escape I needed beyond all other things, sweeping me into its world without hesitation. Reminding me of lost loves, of childhood friendships, and the many heartbreaks of a life that mean we've lived it right.

vi.

The book from Stockholm: AEdnan, that I mistook for another: Osebol- silly me, though in any case I picked it up by some mysterious pull of instinct in its original Swedish before I could read a single word in the language. Nonetheless, it only took 500 pages of listening to know what the line "men jag vet inte" meant. But I don't know... is this reading?

vii.

The memoir Hijab Butch Blues (published without an author picture or a last name) that literally sent shivers down my spine on every page. The one I began without knowing how many times I would be recognised in its stories, and the one I felt the urge to put down because that amount of truth in one book- I could barely bear it. This is the one I want everyone in my life to read.

viii.

The cracking dialogues in Memory Foam, a poetry book half-authored by the neural network my dad has been consulting on all things large and small, and I've been diligently avoiding though I'm not sure why since it seems an absolutely delightful, even insightful, companion for a poet.

ix.

The book of leaves, Perendosi, I read after the Palestinian fabrics exhibit that gave me permission to stand still for as long as I liked and think again about the cycles of life, those weaving thoughts of home and their beautiful fractured simplicity.

x.

The ancient epic Gilgamesh that I spoke aloud for the first time in the alternating shade and sunlight of an English summer, that reminded me of the still thudding history of colonialism and of the healing power of poetry and of the magic of ancient societies and of their stories - somehow still - like a miracle: surviving.

xi.

And finally, the two books that brought me the most unadulterated joy of the summer, Gritli- The Moth Diaries, or: a mistake has been made about wildness, and its companion ..about heartbreak. These are books which make just enough sense to spit you out of your seat laughing, and then touch you with an unexpected softness or whip you into a waking state from your dreaming. After reading them I wrote:

Little insect

green winged thing

landed on my quiet evening

as I was reading a poem.

*****

How did you spend your summer, what did or didn't you read, and why?

Share your secret memories with me, if you would like.

*****

Books mentioned, in the editions I happened to read them in, as photographed above:

i. In the Garden: Essays on Nature and Growing written by multiple contributors. 2021. Daunt Books.

ii. The Wild Iris written by Louise Gluck. 1992. Carcanet Press.

iii. What's that tree? The simplest ID guide written by Tony Russel. 2013. DK.

iv. Sappho translated by Mary Barnard and foreword by Dudley Fitts. 1958. University of California Press.

v. Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow written by Gabrielle Zevin. 2022. Vintage.

vi. AEdnan written by Linnea Axelsson. 2018. Bonnier Pocket.

vii. Hijab Butch Blues: a memoir written by Lamya H. 2023. Icon Books.

viii. Memory Foam written by Dan Power and GPT-3. 2023. Doomsday Press.

ix. Perendosi 12 black and white photographs by Norman McBeath and text 'Twelve Leaves' by Edmund De Waal. 2022. Hazel Press.

x. Gilgamesh: a new translation of the ancient epic with essays on the poem its past and its passion written and translated by Sophus Helle. 2021. Yale University Press.

xi. Gritli-- the Moth Diaries, or: a mistake has been made about wildness created by Sophie Florian and Hanako Emden. 2022. Colorama.

xi.i. Gritli-- the Moth Diaries, or: a mistake has been made about heartbreak created by Sophie Florian and Hanako Emden. 2022. Colorama.