Books I read while O/S
& what I liked about them
The appeal of traveling somewhere isn’t just about the place itself. I mean, of course it is, but it’s also about having unallocated time to dedicate to whatever you’re taken by that day. The lack of a plan. The ability to do exactly what you feel like. Maybe it’s an activity or an attraction. Maybe it’s a pastry at a cafe or glass of wine at a restaurant with a good view. Maybe it’s stepping into another culture, or feeling as far away from home as possible.
Yet even still, I find that my favourite part of being away most often circles back to the time I get to spend reading.
Usually I save my overly wordy book reviews for Read My Blurb, but I’ve decided to list them below here (also leaning beyond the book itself and a little into the time and place I was in while reading).
Listed below are some of the books I read while away in Scandinavia, where I read them and the parts of them I loved most (please also indulge me in the oddly specific star ratings – committing to whole numbers feels far too rigid and doesn’t allow for the necessary **nuance**).
The Secret History by Donna Tartt
This one was a long time coming. Having sat on my bookshelf for over a year and having seen countless rave review online, I took the plunge on the 600+ page book, figuring it would be ideal for the 24 hours of travel I had ahead.
Though it’s long, it’s a great novel to feel immediately immersed in – and your attention is largely held through a need to know what exactly happened to have had one of the main characters be killed by his own friends.
I was fairly hooked during the first half because of this anticipation, reading it on the plane, at a cafe or two and in bed at my Airbnb. I also felt transported by the sense of place Tartt created: the university, the exclusivity of their ancient Greek classes and the intellectual conversations about everything and nothing set the scene of this novel vividly. It was the perfect blend of being plot-driven (i.e., it was a suspenseful and there was a murder mystery propelling you forward), yet it also felt character-driven. Richard (the narrator), Bunny, Henry Charles, Francis and Camilla were really the main reasons I kept reading; though unlikable at times, they felt incredibly real and I loved their conversations and weekends away.
Though the second half was a little slower, it was a fairly satisfying ending. I finished it off on the overnight ferry from Copenhagen into Oslo and was sorry to say goodbye to the cast of characters.
4,8/5.
Just Kids by Patti Smith
Where to begin? Just Kids was easily my favourite read of not only the trip – but quite possibly of the year (if it’s not too soon to say). Nothing I say feels like it will quite do it justice, so I’m torn as to whether there’s a point trying to articulate what exactly I liked about it so much – but here are some thoughts.
I started Just Kids the six hour train to Bergen and finished it on that very same train back into Oslo (a full-circle moment). It was another book I’d had on my shelf for a while, but something about it was calling to me when I was figuring out which books to pack in my suitcase. I’m a big believer in right book/right time, so maybe it was time.
“Where does it all lead? What will become of us? These were our young questions, and young answers were revealed. It leads to each other. We become ourselves.”
One of the things that stood out to me immediately about Just Kids was Patti’s writing. There’s something incredibly simple and innocent about her sentences, but she’s also self-aware, wise and lyrical in her prose. I also loved reading about her coming-of-age in New York. Though the scene in the 60’s and 70’s is gritty and fascinating, her ability to capture the intimate details of her conversations and interactions with other people (and the culture more generally) was the best part.
And Robert, of course. What an interesting man, and what an interesting life. The fact that she chronicled their story in this way is a testament to their connection and their shared history. The two of them really viscerally reminded me of two of my close friends. They seeped into the pages; into Patti and Robert; into every piece of their art and every time they committed to pursuing it no matter the cost.
5/5.
Kudos by Rachel Cusk
“You can't tell your story to everybody, I said. Maybe you can only tell it to one person.”
In hindsight, Kudos was a strange choice of book to have bought halfway into the trip – I still had two more unread books in my suitcase at that stage, and I had Cusk’s first book in the trilogy, Outline, on my shelf at home (Kudos was the third in the series). But something was pulling me to it, and buying books overseas as a souvenir always feels more sustainable than another magnet, so I bought it and hoped it wasn’t a series that needed to be read in order.
I started it halfway through a six hour train ride back to Oslo after having just had my heart broken by Patti Smith’s Just Kids. I was writing off and on that whole train ride about nothing much (the other people on the train, the music I was listening to and the views), so in a roundabout way, sinking into Kudos was fitting, because it felt like a fairly observational-type of novel (or maybe I was just trying to find a thread connecting myself and Cusk in those moments).
“A degree of self-deception, she said, was an essential part of the talent for living.”
It started with a conversation between the narrator and a man on a plane ride, and evolved into a story about his life and family and dying dog. The rest of the novel continued along a similar path; it didn’t follow a plot or typical structure (beyond the narrator travelling to a literary festival), but instead, it felt pulled together by a series of observations about other people that turned into observations about life, womanhood and purpose. Some conversations resonated more than others, and I liked the randomness of things and the meaning found in between them.
I picked it back up on the train into Sweden a couple of days later, brought it with me to a cafe and then finished it on the second last night of the trip at the hotel in Stockholm.
4,7/5.
Penance by Eliza Clark
Penance was our Read My Blurb book club book, so I lugged the enormous trade paperback in my suitcase the whole trip, saving it for the flight home. Having read (and loved) her debut, Boy Parts, I expected this one to be a graphic and uncomfortable read, too. And boy was it.
As per tradition for book club picks, I’ve already written an overly lengthy review here. It provoked a lot of conversation at the club, and a lot of thought generally about voyeurism, radicalisation and girlhood, but it also firmly cemented Clark’s skills as a novelist in my mind. From the meticulous detail that would’ve had to involve an ungodly amount of research, to the in-depth characterisation, to the very timely criticisms about culture… she is just masterful.
I read almost all of it during the 25+ journey home, and finished the last few at the kitchen table at home (having had to put it down a various times because I didn’t feel quite in the headspace to dive back into the darkness).
3,8/5