Hello again...

Hello dear Off-Topic readers,

I’ve missed you.

I stopped sending this newsletter in the run-up to doing publicity around The Names because I had such a sense of only wanting a finite amount of myself to exist out in the world at any one time, which meant folding other parts away - a sort of internal balancing act (or origami) to try and preserve some quiet part of myself. I still feel this, but after writing a blog or newsletter for nearly twenty years, I also miss the conversation in these longer-form letters. So what follows are a few of my reading highlights from this year that I haven’t already shared on Instagram.¹

Charlotte McConaghy’s Wild Dark Shore seemed to be out in the US and Australia months ahead of the UK and after reading early reviews, I searched for it each week (longingly, hopefully, despairingly). Until finally, the audiobook appeared. And it’s magnificent. The story is set on a largely uninhabited island, home to a single family and the world's largest seed bank. The sense of place and isolation are breathtaking (it reminded me of Carys Davies’ Clear in this way), and the characters, psychology, and sustained tension are all superb. The ending wasn’t quite as I’d hoped, but it made me think a lot about the author’s reasons behind that, and often that’s as satisfying as being handed the conclusion I first craved, so it didn’t actually detract from how much I enjoyed the story. A contender for being one of my favourite books of the year.²

Next, Virginia Evans’ The Correspondent, which I read as a proof back in January (hence the rainy window). I was initially hesitant about a novel told entirely through letters, as I like sinking into big meaty chapters. But this was totally absorbing. Letter by letter, it reveals the different faces Sybil wears to navigate relationships with old colleagues, friends, an almost-estranged daughter. Open-hearted with some, a hedgehog curled tight in a ball with others, I cried more than once as I saw this brilliant woman come to understand herself more deeply and risk lowering her defences. Both serious and uplifting, it’s a book that shows what a glorious thing growing older can be³. I’ve linked to a poem called Deaths of Flowers by Edith Scovell in a previous newsletter, and when I was reading The Correspondent, I kept noticing all the joyful ways Sybil goes from iris to tulip.

I loved Emily Itami’s debut when I read it several years ago, so was thrilled when my editor⁴ sent a proof of Kakigori Summer back in March. It’s about three sisters and a retreat to their childhood home in the wake of a crisis. I especially love the moments where Emily’s characters make observations around language - its nuances, the things that can’t be translated between Japanese and English, and the shared frustration and humour around certain family expressions (the grandmother makes a lot of barbed comments). There were so many little things I found funny or relevant to a particular person’s way of being, and I shared lines with friends and family as I read. Eg. for my sister who’s very tidy: I’ve always thought it makes good sense that the word for ‘clean’ in Japanese is the same as the word for ‘beautiful’. And for its relevance to my own way of being and the best description of overthinking I’ve come across: the truth is that the inside of her head is like the final note of some operatic calamity vibrato-ing without end. Sigh. I feel that deeply. (My sister has now also read Kakigori Summer and made me laugh when she mentioned finding the way Emily Itami deploys a swear word particularly brilliant. I hadn’t actually noticed any swearing, so I’m now wanting to go back and make a study of it).

Finally, Claire Daverley recommended Valérie Perrin’s Fresh Water for Flowers and I read it on the plane to and from New York in late May. That trip was the culmination of a year’s worth of worrying about whether I’d actually be able to speak when faced with a television camera (I was appearing on the Today show, as The Names was that month’s Read with Jenna book club pick), so if a novel were to distract me from what lay ahead, it needed to be particularly good. This one was. Translated from French, it’s about a woman’s marriage to someone disappointing and feckless⁵, also about loss, friendship, sanctuary, and the quietly fascinating life of a cemetery keeper⁶. I’ve been wondering why I found this novel so cosy and cocooning and I think it’s something about her interactions with the small cast of side characters that immerse you in the day-to-day rhythms and routines of their lives tending the graveyard - a refuge for her, but also the reader. It’s been a huge international bestseller and widely reviewed in the press, but somehow I’d never heard of it until Claire mentioned it - isn’t it odd how a book can present itself to you at exactly the right moment (or be presented to you). It comes in at nearly 500 pages, and although there was one strand of the story that felt slightly superfluous to me, I was happy for the prolonged immersion.

This has now sat in my drafts for a few weeks, but in lieu of adding any more recent reading updates, I offer a photo of Nell and a link to a TED talk by Leigh Bardugo around tolerating discomfort in creativity, which I found a welcome reminder to self. Perhaps you might enjoy it too.

I’d love to hear if you have any recommendations of your own.

With love,
Florence x

1. If you’re one of the people who has bought, read, given, borrowed, reviewed, or recommended my book, thank you 🧡. And while on the subject of The Names, just in case you might like to come along to an event with me in October, I’ll be at: Between the Covers LIVE this weekend with David Nicholls, Ruth Jones, and Stephen Mangan (I’m aware this line-up makes me sound like a fantasist, but my name really does seem to appear on the same webpage as theirs); I’m also looking forward to appearing at Cheltenham Literary Festival with Claire Lynch; and Wimbledon Book Festival with Lily King (my review of Lily’s forthcoming novel, here). I’d love to see you there 💛.

2. I listened to a few episodes of Australia’s The Book Show podcast ahead of being interviewed by Claire Nichols, and was delighted to find her in conversation with Charlotte McConaghy - although this was when I was still at the desperately seeking stage and it only made me more impatient to read. The hardback still doesn’t seem to be out in the UK, but I listened to the audiobook and the narration was excellent.

3. And while thinking about books that place a spotlight on older characters, I also adored Kent Haruf’s Our Souls at Night when I read it several years ago.

4. Just as an fyi, there’s no pressure for me to blurb, mention, fall in love with, or even read a proof that’s been sent by my editor. But as we have similar taste in books I often do of my own accord, as is the case here (also here) 💛.

5. Is there any word more disparaging than feckless?

6. Shortly after reading Valérie Perrin’s story about a graveyard keeper, a beautiful house came up for sale on the edge of a cemetery. A lack of bedrooms would have meant our adult children would only have been able to visit in rotation (my son did say we could erect some kind of garden shed for him if needed, but I’m keen to tempt them home with central heating and other creature comforts), but don’t you love it when you’re so taken with a novel it has the potential to influence decisions like this?!