I will arise and go now
When I was 18, I went on a British Isles Literary Tour with my community college. In preparation, we read Tess of the D’Urbervilles and John Keats and Dorothy Wordsworth. Then our *intimate* group of 50 bussed through England, Ireland, & Scotland. I roamed the Brontë’s moors and covertly touched Jane Austen’s roped-off writing desk and visited Yeats’s grave and bought books along the Seine (because even though it was off-theme, they threw Paris in as part of the deal). In short, it was an idyllic summer sendoff into the realm of young adulthood.
I thought I’d take you all on a modern version of that magical tour, via books set in these same locations that have recently left me gobsmacked:
We begin with The Past by Tessa Hadley, a story about a family of grown siblings gathering in their ancestral home in the English countryside for a few weeks in the summer.
All the siblings felt sometimes, as the days of their holiday passed, the sheer irritation and perplexity of family coexistence: how it fretted away at the love and attachment which were nonetheless intense and enduring when they were apart. They knew one another so well, all too well, and yet they were all continually surprised by the forgotten difficult twists and turns of one another’s personalities, so familiar as soon as they appeared.
Having just gotten together with my own family, I can tell you, it resonated. Hadley’s writing reminds me of Alice Munro, in that it’s seemingly subtle domesticity on the outside, all hefty & crippling turbulence on the inside. She nails many things about human relationships and emotion in a way that feels deeply personal. I can’t wait to read more from her.
Next is Night Boat to Tangier by Kevin Barry, a dark and violent story of two aging Irishmen. As they wait in a Spanish port for one of their estranged daughters, we learn of their sordid & criminal history. I had the pleasure of listening to this on audio, read by the author, so I have no quotes at hand to share. But despite the dark themes, Barry’s dialogue often made me laugh out loud. I really couldn't put it down.
I came to the book after listening to Douglas Stuart read one of Barry’s short stories on the New Yorker Fiction Podcast—another serious-themed story that was also somehow sheer delight.
Of course, I knew to trust Douglas Stuart after reading his debut novel, Shuggie Bain. His is a coming-of-age story about a queer boy growing up amid poverty and alcoholism in 1980s Glasgow. It’s a real heartbreaker, but a truly beautiful one.
Shuggie heard the nurse say to a male attendant that she thought for sure Agnes was a working girl. “She is not,” said Shuggie, quite proudly. “My mother has never worked a day in her life. She’s far too good-looking for that.” The matted mink coat gave her an air of superiority, and her black strappy heels clacked out a slurred beat on the long marble hallway.
We end our tour with Idaho by Emily Ruskovich. Like Paris, Idaho is no British Isle, but it fits with the theme of recently-read books I feel the need to press into people’s hands. Plus, that community college that sponsored my tour? It was in Idaho!
This compelling story unfolds slowly around understanding a tragedy—the murder of a child. Told in several POVs, it begins with the second wife of the child’s father & her struggle to understand his life and family before their marriage. Apart from the gorgeous prose, it’s full of mystery and emotional resonance. In truth, I’m not yet finished. But I’m entranced enough to prematurely gush about it.
What have you been reading & loving this summer?
Cheers,
Lacy
P.S. As a senior in high school, I broke my leg in a serious car accident and eventually received a payout that covered said literary tour of my dreams. A lesson that often the worst things in life lead to the best things. Plus, my English teacher subsequently likened me to Phineas in A Separate Peace. And though it was a circumstantial comparison, I’ve carried it around as one of the most meaningful compliments of my life. Because who among us doesn’t secretly delight in being compared to heroic book characters—even at the cost of snapping one’s tibia & fibula?