What I Read - January 2020
Childhood Gemma maxed out her library card every week, developed an appreciation for Book Smell™ at an early age and became hot and bothered at the thought of a Scholastic Book Fair. Teenage Gemma crammed her suitcase with books and clear roll-on lipgloss every summer holiday and made it a personal mission to read the novel before every major film adaptation reached the cinema.
Adult Gemma is letting the side down, at least, or she was up until January 2020 when she vowed to make more time for reading again. I'm going to stop referring to myself in the third person now because it's creepy and a bit grim. I am adult Gemma. I'm trying to do better.
It's difficult, though, isn't it? I still buy books with almost religious fervour, but they sit there, judging me as I scroll through my 50th TikTok of the day and wondering when their time will come. I have neglected them for podcasts, YouTube videos and anything you can consume while giving yourself the illusion of multitasking. 2020 though, it's going to be my time. I'm not going to let childhood Gemma down any more, and I'm holding myself accountable by recapping what I've read here each month.
Carving out time to read at home has been harder than I thought. All of my work is internet-based, so is Matt's, and we are both bad at switching off because we love our jobs. I did, however, visit my parents in January. It allowed me to read from the comfort of a sun lounger under swaying palm trees and was the perfect introduction to a year of more reading.
I'm counting Audiobooks here too, don't @ me! I use them almost exclusively for memoirs and autobiographies read by the authors because who amongst us doesn't want to hear JVN as they make a coffee? As a caveat, it should be noted that I am terrible at reviewing things. I am capable of picking something apart but usually just fully immerse myself to the point I either love something or hate it, so perhaps these should be viewed more as chats than reviews.
Anyway, here's what I read in January.
Sally Rooney - Conversations With Friends
It's hard to know how to talk about Sally Rooney when so much has already been said. I've read countless thinkpieces about her books as Instagram status symbols, her role as the "Salinger of the Snapchat generation", and how the hipster booksellers of Brooklyn were irritated by Rooney fever.
It seems you either embrace the excitement around Sally Rooney, or you intentionally avoid her books because the likes of Taylor Swift and Emily Ratajkowski have publicly declared their love. I kid you not; I read a story about a woman who (on the advice of her therapist) went into a bookshop asking for a book that would "make her look stupid". The bookseller thrust a copy of Conversations With Friends into her hands, believing the cover was "so cheesy" and looked "rom-com-y."
I love a good cover as much as the next person but thank god I am not that bookseller because I adore Sally Rooney's writing. Conversations With Friends is her debut novel, but I read Normal People first and devoured it in much the same way I did this. Rooney focuses primarily on her characters inner lives and the way they often harshly juxtapose with their outward behaviour. I could talk about how she's found a captive audience in Millenials who have perfected the art of performative living incongruous with their true feelings but hey; I'm not here to psychoanalyse anyone.
Her writing makes me feel uncomfortable in a way that I enjoy. It's kind of like when your wisdom teeth are coming in, but you get a sick relief from pressing on the sensitive parts of your gums. In Conversations With Friends, we meet Frances, a 21-year-old student in Dublin who along with her ex and best friend Bobbi, embarks on a complicated relationship with a married couple. By focusing on the inner lives of the characters, everything felt sharper, more relatable and more honest, even if some of the circumstances weren't things I could directly relate to.
I would highly recommend both this and Normal People. I can't quite pinpoint any one thing in Rooney's style that explains how captivating her books are to me but, maybe that's the magic. Neither book has an explosive ending but, that's okay, the journey is often more entertaining than the destination.
Sakaya Murata - Convenience Store Woman
I went into this book with zero expectations, knowing nothing about the author or the premise of the novel. The cover grabbed my attention as I was scrolling Instagram, and I (thankfully) decided to give it a go. Murata is a best-selling author in her native Japan, but this is the first of her books to be translated into English, with another, Earthlings, on the way this year.
Her books explore nonconformity and the consequences for people who do not neatly fit or fall in line with societal expectations. In Convenience Store Woman we meet Keiko, a 36-year-old woman who has worked in the same store since it opened 18 years ago, much to the annoyance of her family and friends who believe she is capable of much more.
Although there's so much of Keiko I don't relate to, I felt deeply for this character who knew what satisfied her in life and could not understand the judgement and expectations of those around her. It's a short book at only 163 pages, and I breezed through it in a single afternoon, wishing it could last longer.
Keiko is a societal misfit who mimics the humans around her in an effort to fit in. She has borderline psychopathic tendencies, at one point suggesting a crying baby be silenced with a knife and failing to understand why everyone is horrified. Despite all this, you can't help but root for this woman because her confusion is genuine and her needs are few.
I may not identify with a Japanese convenience store worker who thinks it's fine to stab a crying baby, but the idea that we should all be hustling, dating, getting married, having babies and achieving the next career milestone is universally stress-inducing. This is an odd and unconventional love story but a love story nonetheless. Well worth a read, and I'm looking forward to picking up Earthlings when the translation is released this year.
Megan Phelps-Roper - Unfollow
I listened to the audiobook version of Unfollow, a memoir by a former member of the infamous Westboro Baptist Church because I already kind of felt like I knew Megan. When the Phelps family first hit UK TV screens thanks to Louis Theroux, I was filled with morbid fascination. I was shocked and disgusted by the hatred they preached and couldn't understand how clearly intelligent people were not able to see the circular logic they used to defend their behaviour.
I watched what they did online, I saw more documentaries, and loosely kept up with what they did over the years, shocked and delighted when Megan and her sister chose to leave together. Even during the first documentary, I oscillated between being frustrated by and having a soft spot for Megan, who was sweet, smart and yet full of hatred. Her life post-Westboro has been nothing short of brave and impressive, now speaking out against her former church, she's lost her family and dedicates her time to combating extremism.
If you've ever wondered how people can do such complex mental gymnastics to convince themselves that what they are doing is right, this book is for you. Megan is eloquent, self-aware and delves into her childhood to give a comprehensive history of the church, what life inside it was like and the reality of leaving everything you've ever known behind.
Unfollow made me examine how much our family and circumstance impacts who we become, how multi-dimensional and flawed we are as humans and that no matter how far we may go down a certain path, we can try to take a different route if we do it sincerely. It was a fascinating memoir and a great companion to Megan's public speaking and online work. I really recommend the audiobook to hear Megan’s story in a personal medium, and I look forward to following what she does next.
