influencer official
sad hot girls and gabagool
The haters and losers and the failing New York Times said we couldn’t do it (they didn’t, but I’m adhering to their journalistic standard right now by making shit up), but we did! We not only hit, but SURPASSED 100 subscribers! This is a very small number in the grand scheme of things, and of Substacks, but it is a big one for me and I feel very lucky that there are more than a few people don’t mind seeing me in their already overrun inboxes. :)
I’m going to do what I hope is a fun post in honor of this milestone, but I would also like to know if you have any newsletter ideas or general yens. If you MUST get an email, you might as well enjoy it.
Thank you all very much, and do feel free to share this with your friends so we can all be friends together in a super non-cult way. Hooray!
reads
Since our last correspondence, I’ve finished Maya Binyam’s Hangman, which I picked up after seeing it highly regarded by some of my most esteemed bookstagram friends (namely Kayla (wordingitright) + Grace (grace_escapes) — follow them for takes more eloquent than mine).
I was digging the novel as I read it. As previously said, I think it’s very well-written and the combination of humor and pithy observations is really entertaining. At the same time, I felt the sparseness of the narrative doesn’t quite do the main character justice. In my opinion, a little more meat — or, honestly, a little less — on its bones would have made the structure and the plot weave together a bit more seamlessly. This is actually how I felt about The Guest, by Emma Cline; I think that books with a bit of a vague and mysterious narrative structure either need to commit fully to that, sharing only bare necessities of the characters or evolving enough alongside its characters to warrant our connection with them. Does this make any sense?
All that being said, the ending is a fucking whopper. It’s so well-done and is both surprising and a seamless fit with the narrative we’ve just consumed. I already enjoyed the book, but this raised it even higher in my esteem. It’s not often that we as readers are treated to such a devastatingly perfect conclusion. This is a really well-done novel, and while it wasn’t always my cup of tea as far as the narration goes, I will be thinking about it for a long, long time. 4.2/5, which might be my most frequent rating this year.
I was WONDERING when the next killer sad hot girl novel would darken my doorstep next. It’s been too long. And in the final moments of the year, Sarah Thankam Mathews came through for me BIG time. It’s about a recent college graduate and Indian immigrant, Sneha, who moves to Milwaukee amidst the 2008 recession for some sort of buisiness-y job. She’s also newly out and seeing what it’s like to date the ladies. Lots happening!
My god, I loved reading this. In truth, the deck was stacked from the beginning. I adore sparse prose, dry humor, and a narrator who somehow encapsulates in words everything I’m feeling in the most eloquent way that makes me question the uniqueness of any one person’s human experience. Mathews’s writing style is excellent and the narrative voice fresh and strong. I was quite affected by the themes explored — I think any young person struggling to find their footing would be. The explorations of friendships under different circumstances and navigating a first relationship AND feeling as though you live multiple lives for your friends and family all hit me.
The end, as books are wont to do, dragged on, and actually felt a little unnecessary at points. IMO, it could have ended about twenty pages sooner. I appreciated how things ultimately wrapped up, but in books like these, I sort of prefer to stay in the present day without knowing what happens in the future; so much of the charm of the hot sad girl novel comes from living in a precise moment in time. Does that make sense?
All in all, though, All This Could Be Different impressed me and moved me deeply. I’ve been waiting for a book to feel so deeply connected to all year (The Idiot is excellent, but at the end of the day, I’m not really a philosophy genius at Harvard). It’s just simple and messy and sometimes perfect. 4.6/5.
I went to another Tables of Contents event last week (more details in the next section) and heard readings from a few authors, including poet Megan Fernandes. I had admittedly never read her work, but was intrigued by her reading, and I always like to come away with at least one book from these events (they always have different bookstores come to sell them, and this time was Center for Fiction).
I think I Do Everything I’m Told is a great collection. Fernandes captures the present moment well, especially as many are still isolated due to the pandemic. Her writing is funny and sharp and pretty much exactly what you’d want to read as a young-ish woman / gender marginalized person in New York who’s been THROUGH IT. It’s so frank and relevant that I found some of it to be a bit cheesy and contrived — honestly, I hate poems that reference current popular media — but I enjoyed it very much. I mean, look at this passage:
A poet does not have enough mercy for all the people who really need it. I love the word triage because of tri- Triangles. Tridents. I fall hard in pairs. I cast beloveds. I kill them off, too.
At the end of the day, I’m a sucker because this was written for me, basically. What can I say? You give me contemporary poetry about fucking around in Bushwick, and I take it. 4.2/5
tables of contents
I went to the final Tables of Contents event of the year and heard readings from the aforementioned Megan Hernandes, Tess Gunty, author of The Rabbit Hutch, the book that weirdly grows on me every time I think about it, and Gina Chung, author of Sea Change. I love this event — it pairs each reading with a food that references it. And it’s a real crapshoot every time about how much food you’re going to get or how fancy it will be, which is very fun.
This time around, there were themed cocktails based on the books, which is really everything I’m a sucker for. I ended up going with the Vacca Vale, which made me nervous, but it was pretty incredible even though I’m a carrot hater. In fact, I Do Everything I’m Told was paired with a carrot puree with uni, which was simply divine. Maybe I do like carrots? My mother will be so proud.
The Rabbit Hutch was hilariously paired with “rabbit food,” a lightly dressed salad, which was where Hannah and I started to get nervous that second dinner might be in order. But Sea Change was paired with an absolutely delicious chocolate cake with a peanut butter-coffee frosting. I don’t usually like chocolate cake, though, which I say for no reason, though my birthday just so happens to be in January.
And, as it turned out, they had a holiday party afterwards with some delicious snackies (I spotted Melissa Lozada-Olivia, there, so I guess I can say that we were, like, invited to the same party????), so, for probably the first time at an event like this, I left absolutely stuffed. Mostly with cake. But still stuffed. If you’re a book lover in NYC, I couldn’t recommend this more.
other media
end of an era
I have an announcement that I’m sure will shock all and make many happy. It will make some sad — those who enjoy my suffering, perhaps. It is this: I have quit Vanderpump Rules. This was not done out of any quest to better myself; any moral quandary about consuming such vile content; nor even a desire to prioritize other forms of television.
It has simply become unbearable to watch. I can no longer spend hours of my life witnessing DJ James Kennedy scream and cry and throw temper tantrums when he gets uninvited from events because he says terrible things about women. Nor can I watch Tom Schwartz let Tom Sandoval say terrible things about Schwartz’s own wife. Jax and Brittany planning for their ENGAGEMENT PARTY? ALL SEASON? Raquel/Rachel speaking in her horrific doll-like monotone and this is BEFORE she becomes the most hated woman in America? Good god, Lemon. I made it halfway through season seven, and I feel like a war veteran.
goomars
My paramour John has informed me that my general classic movie and TV illiteracy must be remedied because I need to learn about his culture (Italian stereotypes). So we watched The Godfather, which I loved, but that wasn’t enough for mister Italian mario pizza parlor boy, so we’re now watching The Sopranos. I mean, I can’t complain. It’s fantastic. The parallels between it and Vanderpump would shock you, truly, but I can’t get into all of that right now. I’m rounding the bend of season three right now, and though I am deeply averse to seeing gore on screen (the main reason why I waited this long to watch), I want to watch Tony murder Ralphie in cold blood when the time comes. Again, direct cinematic parallels to VPR, but we don’t have TIME FOR THAT NOW
On an entirely different note, screen legend Andre Braugher died last week. Say what you will about Brooklyn Nine-Nine (I hate cops and I want to abolish the police and since I’ve developed in my intellectual curiosity, many parts are difficult to watch), but that man was fucking funny in the most subtle, brilliant way possible. After watching some compilations of all of his most incredible bits as Captain Holt, I’m using it as my new rewatch to balance out the horrific things that occur in Sopranos. Just don’t think too much about the setting, I suppose — though I do take the stance that it’s a general workplace comedy and, while cop shows shouldn’t really exist because cops shouldn’t exist, it’s a little separate from that. I do wish they became USPS employees in the last season instead of the weird confrontation of the issue that they ended up on, but no one’s perfect, not even Andy Samberg.
This is probably the last post of the year, but you can expect a best of the year special coming in January and information on the second annual readwithmith bookstawards. Thank you!!!!! for reading!!!!!!!!! I love you.
As always — from the river to the sea — free Palestine. CEASEFIRE NOW.