Books I've Read in Quarantine
One goal of my quarantine goals is to read more books! Among these listed are a few I wouldn’t normally reach for (I’m terribly picky when it comes to purchasing books). However, given their popularity and proximity (there they were right in front of me at Kramerbooks Cafe), I couldn’t resist. Shop local, people!
These are, I’m pleased to share, sweet sweet gems! The top two listed made it into Reese Witherspoon’s Book Club, which I’m now subscribed to; you can subscribe too, right here. I try to keep a finger on the pulse of new book titles that causing a buzz - those appearing on Amazon, Barnes&Noble, local bookstores, Instagram, etc. Her book club is a great resource for new woman-centered stories, and Reese releases her new favorite every month. Join the conversation on Instagram (@ReesesBookClub) and by using its hashtag (#ReadWithReese).
Where the Crawdads Sing, by Delia Owens. A slow and steady read, with dips and curves like the Outer Banks’ rolling waves, this read has been wildly popular and therefore deserves top of the list.
Coming of age, race, nature, nurture, being “other,” love, lust, revenge - Owens weaves together a cocktail of topics that will leave you pensive long after you finish reading.
To Kill a Mockingbird meets Pocahontas.
Such a Fun Age, by Kyley Reid. What a ride - highly recommend for those new and open to broadening their perceptions of challenging concepts, in a book that’s both fun and informative to our limitations in how we view race, identity, and privilege.
Following the perspectives of both an African-American twentysomething woman finding her place in a contemporary world, and a young white mother of two enjoying certain privilege and very much a product of her upbringing, Such a Fun Age draws a comparative narrative between two characters (you may very well identify with both).
You will be simultaneously intrigued, amused - and possibly uncomfortable in the best way.
Girl, Stop Apologizing, by Rachel Hollis. This fired me up, especially reading the first few chapters aloud. That said, given how I received Hollis’ passionate appeals, it’s important that I emphasize these thoughts:
I live in a tension of thinking well of myself while keeping Jesus centered - these two thoughts seem to conflict, and thus create friction. Yes, false humility is a sin, but one that many of us struggle with - women especially. I’ll say it again: false humility. is. a. sin. It benefits no one - including Christ Himself - to belittle yourself and deny your gifts and passions: the same ones that God placed in you. Rachel hammers home the point of investing in yourself first - your fitness, appearance, heart’s desires, passions, interests, thoughts - so you can give your best to both your pursuits, and the people you love.
It’s worth noting that Christian men may read that differently. Men tend to struggle more with seeking identity in their accomplishments; women typically have more trouble fearing their own accomplishments…and to go deeper, even insofaras fearing the discovery of who they really are. With that, what would happen if we chased after becoming our truest selves? If we expressed our passions that our families may scorn? If we wore the clothes that made us happy even if you live in a small town in the South that frowns upon being too different?
Bottom line: I want to affirm women specifically in Rachel’s point that it is important to invest in ourselves. Motives like fear, pride, slothfulness, and others like them are not ingredients for the Christian life. Can we agree? So also are those motives incapable of justifying our reasons to put ourselves last under the weak guise of “putting others first.” First, we risk burning ourselves out, and second, we continue to slip away from who our sweet Lord intended for us to become. Nowhere in the scriptures does it instruct to deny your birthright as royalty and refuse to fill our roll in the body of Christ.
“What lies ahead is going to be very difficult. Fear not, it will come, at least I hope it does. And when you least expect it, nature has a cunning way of finding our weakest spot. Just remember, I am here. Right now, you may not want to feel anything. Perhaps you never wished to feel anything. And perhaps it might not be me whom you wish to speak about these things. But feel something you did. Look, you had a beautiful friendship, and maybe more than a friendship. And I envy you. In my place, most parents would hope things would go away, or pray that their sons land on their feet soon enough.
“But I am not such a parent. In your place, if there is pain, nurse it. And if there is a flame, don’t snuff it out. Don’t be brutal with it. Withdrawal can be a terrible thing if it keeps us awake at night and watching others forget us sooner than we’d like is no better.
We rip out so much of ourselves to be cured of things faster than we should, then we go bankrupt at the age of thirty, and have less to offer each time we start with someone new. But to feel nothing so as not to feeling anything…what a waste.”
“I may have come close, but I never had what you had. Something always held me back or stood in the way. How you live your life is your business, but remember, our hearts and our bodies are given to us only once. Most of us can’t help but live as though we have two lives to live. One is the mock-up, the other is the finished version, and then there are all those version in between. But there’s only one. And before you know it, your heart is worn out. And as for your body, there comes a point when no one wants to look at it, much less wants to come near it. Right now there’s sorrow. I don’t envy the pain, but I envy you the pain.” He took a breath. “We may never speak about this again. But I hope you’ll never hold it against me that you did. I will be a terrible father if one day you’ll want to speak to me, and felt that the door had been shut, or not sufficiently opened.”
Call Me by Your Name, by André Aciman. A romantic and intellectual piece as delectable as the juicy peaches grown in the backyard of the characters’ summer home. A darling, curly-haired seventeen-year-old son of a professor falls for his father’s visiting summer grad student.
Set in the summer of 1988 “somewhere in Northern Italy,” Aciman paints the poignant story of two lovers flung wholely in mutual pursuit of an intimacy they’ve never known, grappling with the moving subjects of desire, forbidden love, coming of age, and facing reality. These are subjects I love watching authors stroke to life on the canvases of their thought-provoking novels. Warning: reading (or watching) may result in a sudden urge to study Heraclitus.
I enjoyed it so much that I watched the movie again (Timothée Chalamet and Armie Hammer are a beautifully exquisite cast).
(Spoiler alert: click at your own risk) can we please appreciate this father’s ode of love and grief and life to his teenage son? Rip. my. heart. out. Click here for the scene.
Join the conversation by leaving a comment below! What books have you read in quarantine? Are there any you enjoyed and would recommend?