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Or, Slouching to Bedlam

Reader,

Reading is so strange, I feel. One can be in the jaws of depression and unable to look at text and then be too depressed to do anything but read. Either way, one can be depressed, amirite?

Over time, this newsletter has turned into a record of one’s life as told through the medium of books, a source of joy and escape. But sometimes even that isn’t enough; in the way sometimes love just ain’t enough. This really came to me as I listened to Gabrielle Union talk about how she once struggled to name 10 things that brought her joy. Here is an accomplished actor saying “Hey, stuff can be hard” and I, a Kinangop potato, never felt such kinship with a star. 

And here we move into the ways that books give one a way to navigate things, but also to gauge what is or isn’t working. In a recent piece in The Cut, for instance, women with a connection to New York City talk about their reactions to Fleishman Is in Trouble, a novel I read in 2019. Recently made into a TV show (which I’m yet to watch), it’s curious to see what these (privileged) women took away from the book while considering how strange it read to me at the time. Class anxiety is always something to witness in fiction and real life. The performance and presentation of class is always something to behold and pairing this article with the real estate tour videos YB and I have been watching (all melding into pivot doors, infinity pools, marble, and the brief mentions of staff) made for an interesting exploration of how the New York City presented in books operates. It was even starker in the week I’d just finished reading Stories from the Tenants Downstairs by Sidik Fofana whose characters are far from the monied worries of which private school to enrol their children in. It was interesting to see authors talk about this article, for the insights and quote tweets (that’s always the interesting part, if you ask me).

Kenyans of a certain age and class will recall a show called Joy Bringers whose title I think of often. One was too young then to think of serotonin, dopamine, endorphins, or oxytocin. Content to run outside with friends and read books, who could have predicted how hard it would be to obtain joy? And not ever stopping, then, to think “Look at me, experiencing joy” or “Remember this brings you joy”. Wow.

But I’m reading, which is what you came for. Per Storygraph, I’m reading 9 books (some more than others) at the moment. When I can’t sleep (often, lately) I’m watching Workin’ Moms (class, again) or reading instead of listening to white noise or something similar. Audiobooks keep me going through chores (one must keep house, even as they drown) and walks, when I take them. The Kindle Challenge, as wild as this may sound, keeps me on course because even a page counts. 

I have finished a few books since I last wrote, reviews forthcoming. MJ and I had a lovely discussion about Vagabonds! by Eloghosa Osunde (narrated by Arit Okpo, Atta Otigba, Eloghosa Osunde, Ifeyinwa Unachukwu, Obongjayar & Sheila Chukwulozie). I also finished Hell of a Book by Jason Mott (narrated by J.D. Jackson & Ronald Peet), Stories from the Tenants Downstairs by Sidik Fofana, Run: Book One by John Lewis & Andrew Aydin (illustrated by Nate Powell & L. Fury) and Life Among the Savages by Shirley Jackson (narrated by Lesa Lockford). 

As ever, please write back to me and tell me what books you’re reading or looking forward to reading this week — it’s always a great time talking about books. Plus, let me know what brings - or has been bringing - you joy.

Enjoy the rest of the week and have a lovely time reading. Talk to you soon!