October 29, 2023
I should be in Country 31 right now.1 But instead, I am tucked between my olive leaf sheets, laptop perched on my comforter as the southern Connecticut sun warms the walls of my apartment. Refunds in hand, disappointment settling on my heart like a kettlebell, I wonder if traveling has always been an escape. An escape from the blinking cursor staring back at me mockingly.
So instead of wallowing, I got in the sunshine and, on my long walk home, I decided:
Tomorrow morning, I’ll get in the car and drive. Who can stop me? And what kind of fool leaves New England in October, one of the top places in the world to be as the leaves change? My thwarted plans suddenly were a portal to a new adventure. Monday morning, I slept in, made a cup of coffee, put Nicole in the SUV, and drove due north.
And yet, all is not well.2
Tucked in my bed in Vermont, I scroll through Instagram and see overwhelming, gut-stilling footage from Gaza. So much pain where does one even begin to do something, do anything? I next search “Guatemala protests” and find the news that a protestor has died in defense of democracy. I pray, asking my God to be near to all in these tragedies. Frustrated at my limitations and humanity’s seeming refusal to achieve peace, I scroll some more. And I figure that, with my gifts, part of what I can contribute here and now is this mere bit of writing: a book list that may inspire us to read voices we do not share and whose stories are worth space in our own.
In days like these, travel is more important than ever—when done properly3, it teaches us that we are all bound to one another, for better and for worse. And at the end of the day, people are people. At our core, we want similar things. Regardless of how differently our circumstances play out by birthplace, language, and other dividing lines, we wake asking What will this day bring, and will tomorrow be better? It’s up to us to be honest about the state of the world, but don’t stop there: keep the faith. More often than not, it may be all we have—and it’s the start of everything.
Before I continue with the book list, here is an article I found with humanitarian aid information in Gaza and Israel. Two novels are included in the list that I’ve wanted to read long before this escalation in the conflict. I have yet to read them, but wanted to include their titles and short synopses here for you.
All are fiction on this list, because fiction is proven to make us more empathetic. And God knows we need more empathy, for others and for ourselves.
The Netanyahus, by Joshua Cohen
Ruben Blum is a Jewish historian living in upstate New York when an exiled scholar from Israel arrives in need of a host. It turns out the exiled scholar is a Netanyahu, and with his arrival, all Ruben’s complacencies become impossible to ignore. This Pulitzer Prize-winning novel blurs lines between fiction and non, bending genre and posing magnifying questions of emotional distance and proximity in the face of controversy.
Against the Loveless World, by Susan Abulhawa
This novel follows the story of Nahr, a Palestinian refugee whose bright dreams of falling in love, having children, and opening her own business are thwarted with a series of setbacks in her personal life compounded with instability all around her. When the U.S. invades Iraq, she is thrust her out of her home and sent away landless as a refugee. Through too many trials to fathom, Nahr finally finds a home and true love as her story unfolds in Palestine.
Mr. President, by Miguel Ángel Asturias
This novel is a very stark depiction of the political legacy Guatemalans have inherited. Asturias follows multiple characters whose lives cross paths under a brutal totalitarian dictator, the “Mr. President” from the title, who is based on Efraín Ríos Montt. This history is why the current protests are so important, and explain why many of the protests are led by the indigenous. The author was one of the first to win the Nobel Prize for Literature, partly due to this book.
Eleanor Oliphant Is Completely Fine, by Gail Honeyman
I finished this delight of a book last week, and loved every second. Eleanor is an odd, reclusive woman who is perfectly content with “fine.” So much so, that she never considers what it could mean for her life to feel better than fine. As she falls in love with a mysterious musician from afar, her coworker Raymond is the one that proves to be a constant while she reflects on painful childhood experiences. As the story unfolds, Eleanor takes a beautiful journey outside her comfort zone and builds a flourishing life.
Reading Challenge Winter Update
November’s theme: Read a novel written by a mother.
My pick: Banyan Moon, by Thao Thai
Thao Thai’s debut, Banyan Moon, brings us into the world of the Tran women. Their world is ruptured forever when the matriarch, Minh, passes away of illness. Ann, the granddaughter who is estranged from her mother, Huong, returns to the small Florida town where she grew up. But she doesn’t return alone—before leaving her new affluent life where she exists on the margins, she comes down South with news that she is pregnant. This story is full of beautiful writing and ends with a closure that is as calming as it is realistic.
December’s theme: Read a novel from an independent publishing house.
My pick: The Postcard, by Anne Berest
Anne Berest writes an autobiographical novel in The Postcard, where she catalogs the history of her family in occupied France. Her grandmother was the lone survivor of their Jewish family, because she was smuggled into Free France by resisters. At the end, tears streaming down my face, I whispered, “I’ll remember.” Read to the end and you’ll see what I mean.
That’s a wrap on the inaugural reading challenge! I put all the books I chose in this Bookshop list, so you can see them all in one place if you like.
On 2024: I already wrote next year’s reading challenge!! There are more great books in our future, friends. We’re starting January somewhere warm and vibrant and cacophonous…and I cannot wait. :-)
Until we meet again,
Sarah
P.s. Speaking of hope for the world, She is on her way.
By “right now,” I mean when I first started writing this post a few weeks ago. Country 31 was almost Guatemala. But after I found out about the pro-democracy protests there, I decided to cancel. It was a combination of safety, “What if we get stuck there? We have class next week,” and a reluctance to get in the way of history while being on vacation. The Journey to 197 is important, but it’s not as important as what is happening there right now. The day for Guatemala will come, and I await it with as much eagerness as patience.
The title of this post is a hat tip to Irène Némirovsky’s Suite Française, a collection of two novels she wrote while living during WWII in France. The first of the two novels that make up the suite is called Storm in June. It may not be June, but God knows it’s storming.
When done improperly, it looks like endangering others or ignoring their pain for our own self-importance at being “well-traveled.” None of us will always get this right, but it is the responsibility of the traveler to at least try.