Monday Miscellany: I’M GONNA BAKE YOU A NICE COCONUT CREAM PIE
Notes from November 4 - 10
I don’t know if I’ve ever had more “how are you, I mean how are you really?” conversations than I’ve had this week. What a time to be a human, alive in America. There’s nothing new I can say about anything that is happening, but here we are, processing, wondering and worrying about what is next, continuing on, continuing on. My personal goals right now are to keep drinking enough water and getting enough sleep, to be informed but then to step away from the neverending deluge of news and commentary, to protect my hope and my softness.
How are you, friends? How are you really?
Currently reading
The Chosen and the Beautiful by Nghi Vo has been sitting on my shelf since the summer, when a friend showed up for our weekly Saturday afternoon bar patio hang with a used copy in her hands, shoving it toward me with a “you have to read this” before even saying hello. Well okay then! Me being me, I intended to start it right away so I could discuss it with her the following week, but me also being me, I had a list of other time-sensitive reading obligations that took precedence, and several months passed before I finally picked it up. But here we are.
This is a fantasy retelling of The Great Gatsby where Jordan Baker is queer and Vietnamese. It has elements of magical realism, too. There’s a psychotropic substance called demoniac, for example, that’s made from the blood of demons and added to cocktails for some extra oomph. And Jordan has a paper-cutting superpower that lets her create living, breathing beings from paper; she uses it at one point to make a double of Daisy Buchanan, who attends a party in the real Daisy’s place when she’s too drunk to go herself. I enjoyed these additions to the canonical story, but I wish they’d been a little more fleshed out and emphasized!
What Nghi Vo really nails is the mood of the F. Scott Fitzgerald original. Both narratives are hazy and dreamlike, the characters exuding disaffection and malaise, time slippery and slow and hard to keep track of. Reading The Chosen and the Beautiful made me feel itchy, like I’d been lying around for too long and needed to get up and DO something before my muscles withered to nothing. It’s enhanced by at least a passing knowledge of its source material, but I think it would be just as enjoyable if you’d never read The Great Gatsby.
Jazz by Toni Morrison was the September pick for The Stacks book club and in her review, Traci Thomas says it has “the best first paragraph I have ever read in a book”:
Sth, I know that woman. She used to live with a flock of birds on Lenox Avenue. Know her husband, too. He fell for an eighteen-year-old girl with one of those deepdown, spooky loves that made him so sad and happy he shot her just to keep the feeling going. When the woman, her name is Violet, went to the funeral to see the girl and to cut her dead face they threw her to the floor and out the church. She ran, then, through all that snow, and when she got back to her apartment she took the birds from their cages and set them out the windows to freeze or fly, including the parrot that said, “I love you.”
Such a strong start! I was drawn in right away and wanted to know more about everything that led to such a bizarre mess of a murder. But, as in jazz music, Morrison wanders away from the opening melody and does a whole lot of scatting and improvising before she works her way back, and I found myself losing the thread several times. Her writing is exceptional (it’s TONI), but it wasn’t always clear who was narrating or where we were in time or what was going on. I’ll definitely blame myself for part of the confusion—Emily, maybe don’t read an intellectually challenging book when you’re winding down for the night and starting to get sleepy, and especially don’t do this when the world feels freshly again on fire and it’s hard to focus even when you’re fully awake—but this wasn’t my favorite Morrison. As always, though, I’m looking forward to listening to the podcast discussion about it; I’m betting that will help me find more in this book to appreciate.
A legally-required heads-up: if you purchase a book through the bookshop.org affiliate links in this post, I may earn a small commission at no additional cost to you. ♥︎
Currently listening
As threatened promised, I launched into a Mountain Goats deep dive this week in anticipation of their show here in Winston-Salem at the end of the month. First up: Beautiful Rat Sunset (1994) and Sweden (1995).
I woke up a few mornings this week with a lyric from “Itzcuintli-Totzli Days” looping in my head—“let the big, big rabbit come out”—which in the daze of weariness and disbelief that covered Wednesday and Thursday, took on a deus ex machina sort of feeling, like my subconscious was repeating it as a mantra or a plea. This can’t be real, right? When will someone show up to heal our broken country?
Let the big, big rabbit come out Let the big, big rabbit come down Let him cast his shadow on the bright face of our little house Let him dance through the garden Let him come
On a totally different note, what has stuck with me from Sweden is John Darnielle shout-singing in “Tahitian Ambrosia Maker” that “I’M GONNA BAKE YOU A NICE COCONUT CREAM PIE, CAUSE I SAW THE SKY COMING DOWN TO MEET YOU!” I love the idea of such an aggressive kindness. I CAME OVER TO WASH YOUR DISHES BECAUSE YOUR LAUGH IS ONE OF THE BEST ONES I’VE EVER HEARD! Or I’M SWEEPING YOUR PORCH AND THERE’S NOTHING YOU CAN DO TO STOP ME, BECAUSE I LOVE THE WAY YOUR NOSE CRINKLES UP WHEN YOU SMILE! We need more of it.
If there’s anything John does even better than nasal, sharp, and slightly frantic, it’s quiet and vulnerable, and to illustrate, Sweden has blessed us with “Whole Wide World,” which I listened to approximately seventeen times in a row on a recent afternoon. The lyrics are fairly minimal, but somehow they contain more than themselves:
The last of the repercussions died off real slow The sky was still and the cold sun sank down beneath the snow I hung by my hand from the tree outside And I looked on the whole wide world The voices came quietly; I shut them down A tricky young southerly wind came at me with its high whistling sound I turned around to face it with real arrogance burning inside And I drank in the whole wide world
Of course, the words themselves don’t do it justice. You’ve gotta hear it, the simple guitar, the slightly scratchy lo-fi recording, the small gentle voice. It’s the same gut punch that “Love Love Love” always gets me with on Sunset Tree, or “Woke Up New” on Get Lonely (both of which I’m sure we’ll talk about in due time).
Today I’ll leave you with a slightly expanded live version of “Whole Wide World” from the Jordan Lake Sessions back in 2021, which features some excellent improv—John Darnielle on guitar and Matt Douglas on piano.
Added to my to-read list this week
How to Winter by Kari Leibowitz, PhD: Patricia Elsie-Tuttle mentioned this on a recent episode of All the Books podcast and called it one of her favorite nonfiction reads of the year. I mean, listen to this subtitle—“Harness Your Mindset to Thrive on Cold, Dark, or Difficult Days.” I need it immediately.
Abortion by Jessica Valenti: Another recent nonfiction release that feels super timely considering last week’s presidential election result. I heard about it through an interview with the author on The Stacks and then saw that my friend Deedi choose it as the first book for a new series she’s starting on her substack.
And another thing
In case you’re looking for a brief mental escape right about now, here are a few fantasy book recommendations from the New York Times. Several of these are on my to-read list already, and I can enthusiastically co-sign The Night Circus and Circe.
Our cat Louise loves to lick, and this Chewy article gives a few possible reasons why. In her case, it’s likely that she was orphaned early (found in a bush outside of our neighbors’ house at only a couple of weeks old), but I’m also choosing to believe it’s a sign of affection.
We went to our local Renaissance Festival last Sunday and then watched the docuseries Ren Faire (streaming on Max) the next day—it is a hot mess and I highly recommend!!
Haiku round-up
More and more, I realize how much I rely on writing these little poems to help me process what I’m feeling, and wow, I had a lot to work with this week. But even when things seem dire: we’re not alone. We build power in community. Every day is new.
Monday, November 4
Fully engrossed in the dramatics of strangers, grateful we’re not them
Tuesday, November 5
I do not regret calmness or optimism I won’t be hardened
Wednesday, November 6
Half of the country shuffles around zombie-like, processing our grief
Thursday, November 7
Deep breaths in and out, focus on a concrete task This, you can control
Friday, November 8
A spine on my shelf: Make Your Art No Matter What I’m trying, trying
Saturday, November 9
Amidst the chaos of noisy toys, tools, children, the sun sneaks away
Sunday, November 10
Remember the sound of disc whizzing through cool air, the singing of chains
Until next time
A holiday greeting card idea popped into my head last night as I was falling asleep: “the dumpster fire continues, so we might as well roast some chestnuts.” We’re still here, the seasons are changing, and the coming cold is gonna require us to snuggle in close. I hope some levity and laughter find you this week.
See you next Monday, and until then, work smarter not harder.
—Emily
If you have any feedback, or want to tell me what you’re reading or listening to, I’d love to hear it. You’re always welcome to leave a comment or reply directly to this email.