My Week in Reading

Flannery O'Connor, Joe Hill, a show, a band, and some Substacks

Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash

If you’re new here, welcome to Binge, the section of Kindling where I give you my reading (or watching or listening) list, and ask you for yours. Please comment! I’m always looking to add to the ever growing pile of books in my house!

An Announcement: If you didn’t catch it, last week we held our second book club meeting, The Barrens. We took a deep dive into Salem’s Lot by Stephen King. If you want in on the King book club, check that link above for the updated schedule. The Shining is next, coming to you Saturday, September 2nd.

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Summer is suddenly coming to an end, and the insane amount of things I’ve had to do and chosen to cram in is astounding. I’m not the type of person who can just go and go. I need time to myself, hours to do nothing, but the last month hasn’t provided that luxury.

Thankfully, there are audiobooks and late nights, and this month I listened to and read some wonderful works. My life has been filled to the brim with good media and art lately, in large part thanks to all of you and your constant recommendations. Thank you, thank you, thank you!

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Good Country People, by Flannery O’Connor

My brain latches onto stories (unlike physics or biology…or any science really). They swirl around in my subconscious and make appearances at the strangest times. This one has been popping up repeatedly lately. How can it not? I see flashes of a young girl in a barn, hidden away in a loft. Beside her, a young man, a slimy bible salesman, seducing her to trust him. A flask, cards detailed with the bodies of naked women. Her prosthetic leg, askew, just out of reach.

Her voice when she spoke had an almost pleading sound. “Aren’t you,” she murmured, “aren’t you just good country people?”

The boy cocked his head. He looked as if he were just beginning to understand that she might be trying to insult him. “Yeah,” he said, curling his lip slightly, “but it ain’t held me back none. I’m as good as you any day in the week.”

Photo by Conner Baker on Unsplash

Faun, by Joe Hill

Joe Hill writes a killer short story. I’ve shared two or three others over the summer from his breakout collection, 20th Century Ghosts, but a reader (shoutout to

John Ward

of

Sketchy Scoops

and

Written Ward

) recommended a few from Full Throttle. This one was strange, fantastical, and surprising.

A man, Stockton, takes his son and his boarding school friend on a lion hunt. When his son is almost killed by the downed beast, his friend, fellow big-game hunter and ex-military man Fallows, saves the day. Stockton knows how he can repay him, with a well kept secret reserved for the ultra wealthy: pay to enter a real life fantasy world, where hunters can kill mythical creatures of old. An experience of a lifetime. A memory to die for.

I Am Not Okay With This on Netflix

I travelled recently. Five minutes before I was due to be in the car, packed, and headed to the airport, I realized I had forgotten to download a show on Netflix. There’s only so much time to watch anything right now, so I’m pretty picky about what I choose. I was scrolling madly through options, when I saw something that looked, at least aesthetically, like something I would be interested in. I clicked download on the first episode, watched it complete just as the car was pulling away from the house, and gave it a go.

Let me just say, I loved this show. It came out in 2020, and stars Sophia Lillis, Bev from It for those who have seen the new movie. I adore her and the character she plays here, Sydney Novak. Unfortunately, the show did not get picked up for a second season, but I think it’s good enough to deal with the cliff hanger ending.

Big Thief, my new favorite band

I’m getting older people, and that means I don’t find new music as often as I’d like. To top it off, the algorithms are creating worlds within worlds of their own, so I get advertised the same type of music and bands by Spotify all day everyday. It’s like some strange spiraling circle that keeps making my world smaller by trying to give me exactly what I want.

So I turn to NPR’s Tiny Desk.

Sometimes on weekends, I clean and throw on an endless playlist of random tiny desk concerts. What is this tiny desk you ask? It’s what it sounds like. A tiny desk in NPR’s office where famous and not-as-famous musicians play songs for people who want to listen. One of these fortunate times led me to Big Thief, and last week I saw them in concert.

It was a Monday. I left work and rushed to change. Just as I pulled out of my garage, thunder clouds opened up and it started to pour. It didn’t stop for the hour and a half drive to Red Rocks. Lightning flashed. The sky grew darker and on I drove, a close friend in tow. By the time we got there it was pouring again. I thought it was going to be cancelled, felt sure it had to be, but the lightning traveled south and the show went on as the rain came down. It was pure magic. This band was meant to be heard live.

We drove straight into the storm, faced a downpour in blacker sky and road as midnight passed. I got four hours of sleep before I had to get up for work, and I’ve been living on their songs ever since.

Henry Mitchell, of Drover’s Gap

This is a Substack that publishes almost, if not everyday. Henry Mitchell is a poet, and his writings on nature and life bring tears to my eyes. This was the first of his posts that I read, and I’ve read every one since.

Lost and found-

CFH, of Some Fiction and Some Musings

I discovered

Some Fiction and Some Musings

last month. She writes fiction and essays on the speculative side of life. Her writing gets under my skin. The words stick around. The following is the first post of hers that I read, and the one that made me subscribe. Enjoy!

I am dissecting a strawberry.

I set my tools down on the cutting board to see how it will feel: a paring knife, a pair of tweezers. 

First, I slide the knife around the stem, careful not to cut too deep.

The Strawberry

Daniel W. Davison, of

Lamp Post in the Marsh

Daniel was one of the first writers I “met” here on Substack, and his work never ceases to amaze me. He writes unapologetically. The images in his short fiction disturb me (in the best way), but as I’ve told him, his poetry is my absolute favorite. If you are looking for something truly different, something jarring and surprising and unique, check his Substack out.

To Die Alone Today

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I am drowning in books. I’m rich in them. I’m sitting at my desk as the sky turns that muted yellow blue just before summer dark. Next to me are four of Cormac McCarthy’s novels, two I’ve read, and two I haven’t. Against the wall are fifteen books I bought this summer, collected at used bookstores and airports, all of them promising some new lesson, maybe heartbreak or joy or disgust.

Happy reading. I’m glad you’re here.

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