Gasoline Books Newsletter #6
In a *mood*
I don’t know if it’s something going on with the stars, the most recent run of gun violence, or just my new normal, but I have been in a foul mood the last few weeks. Sure, I’ve been able to shake it here and there (if donuts aren’t the cure for a sour disposition, I don’t know what is). But this funk has left me in a fog, and reaching for a random assortment of books as a result.
But honestly, that last bit isn’t out of the ordinary, but rather a return to the familiar. Last year, I made the heroically misguided attempt of planning out my reads. This was ready-made for failure because, I for one, am a moody bitch, especially when it comes to my TBR stack.
So, in an attempt to live *authentically* I’ve thrown all reading list structure to the wind. And it’s been wonderful. Mood reading, unlike so many things (low-rise pants, body glitter, babies wearing sunglasses), is worth the hype. Sometimes, you need a book to serve as a wanton distraction from the collapse of democracy raging on your doorstep, and sometimes, you want a book to serve as a portal into understanding how we got ourselves into this mess. There’s most definitely a book for whatever your predilections are calling for.
Here’s my message: Stop giving a shit about what your reading list looks like and read whatever you want. Life is literally too short to do anything else. And this isn’t to say that different books should be ignored because they’re commercial or classic or off-putting, each can serve a purpose. There’s so much to be bummed about, why should a book yank you down further? This and more below.
Book of the Month
Once upon a time, not too long ago, I believed I could be an Olympic marathoner. Yep, you heard me. It didn’t matter that I hadn’t run in high school or college, or that, up until that point I’d barely completed a handful of races (with lukewarm results at best). But I thought I could make a go of it. Here’s why. I experienced something of an exercise-induced epiphany (cough: delusion) during one of my first half marathons, which would set me on a path riddled with broken bones, dreams and egos.
This is what went down. I was laboring up one of those inhumane hills in Central Park that grows steeper with every step, and heard a breeze swish behind me. It can be windy in New York, and I tucked my head down, praying to the running gods that I wouldn’t become race roadkill.
What I mistook for Mother Nature was actually a small group of professional runners floating up the very hill that had been put on this earth to end me. Their feet barely touched the ground as they rounded an endlessly far bend. They made it look easy. And I, a woman with minimal fitness training, and who was at the moment considering rolling down the hill instead of forcing another step, had the same thought of so many people I’d soon meet at the physical therapist’s office: “That doesn’t look so hard, I could do that.”
Did I equate my current discomfort with their infinite ease? Absolutely not. Some 12 stress fractures, a set of crutches, and enough humble pie servings to suffer from GI discomfort for eternity, I came to terms that I was not placed on this planet to be a professional marathoner.
These are basically the same emotions I oscillated through as I read “Nightcrawling” by Leila Mottley. The debut is a heart wrenching tale of Kiara, who is literally doing anything she can think of to keep a roof over her head. We meet her as she learns of a rent hike on her Oakland apartment, which she shares with her brother, Marcus, an aspiring rapper with middling talent. And, while Marcus is off trying to become the next A$AP Rocky, Kiara is caring for herself, an abandoned boy who lives next door, and Marcus, who does nothing to pitch in. There are few options allocated for a high school dropout who is Black and female. There are even fewer when you become a whistleblower, which she becomes, unintentionally.
Kiara gets wrapped up in some major shizz that no one, I don’t care who you are, would want to be involved in. She rises to confront a system built to exclude her, and she follows through on sharing her truth despite threats, intimidations, and all-out violence. She’s a badass and has no idea, like most heroines.
Throughout the novel, Kiara is consistently let down by those she loves. Her mother, Marcus, her landlord, and most definitely the Oakland police (though there wasn’t any love to lose with OPD to begin with). This is a new kind of underdog story: One that carries hard truths in the knots wrapped around your shoulders. Where the good guy (or girl) can go through a swamp-full of a mess and still not find the way out of the muck by the end of the story.
Mottley swings heavy with metaphors, some of which left me breathless. It motivated me to try my hand at poetry, only to remember the terrible AIM away messages I penned in college, causing me to slowly back away from the notebook lest I embarrass myself anymore than I already have. I didn’t need to recreate the runner trauma of yesteryear. She made it look so flipping easy, but she’s not showy, either.
The intention of Mottley’s writing takes you on an emotional rollercoaster: crashing character development, rich interior lives, solid world building. There’s a precision in her prose, like someone forcing you to stare at a car wreck with binoculars as you pass it on the highway. This is not a light read, nor will it leave you feeling overwhelmingly optimistic, but I felt assured once I finished. That there are fighters in every sanction of life, each of whom should have their story shared. Thank goodness Mottley decided to tell this one.
Monthly Reading List
In line with this month’s theme, these are just generally good books that I feel compelled to share at this moment. Some are heavy, some old, some are uplifting, others not so much, but they’re all fantastic. I hope that you find at least one that can match your current inner climate.
“The Friend” - Sigrid Nunez: Read for companionship, quick-witted prose, to quell loneliness.
“The Ten-Year Nap” - Meg Wolitzer: Read for midlife crises with a sardonic twist.
“The Unraveling of Cassidy Holmes” - Elissa R. Sloan: Read for a reality T.V. replacement.
“Our Country Friends” - Gary Shteyngart: Read to remember why you moved out of the city.
“Just Kids” - Patti Smith: Read to remember why you moved to the city.
“Underworld” - Don Dellilo: Read to be transported to a different version of the city.
“Black Buck” - Mateo Askaripour: Read to relish in how much you hate your job.
“We the Animals” - Justin Torres: Read to revisit life before you had a job.
“The Dutch House” - Ann Patchett: Read to recall your compass.
“Life” - Keith Richards: Read to realize your fantasy of playing in the biggest band in the world.