Earlier this month, my husband and I convinced a twenty-one-year-old college student she was more than capable of watching our kids for three nights. Actually, the student convinced us as well, because some days parenthood is so damn hard and humbling that I question whether anyone else not specifically designated to love a set of children could withstand it. But they all did really well (save for a meltdown phoned in minutes before my spa treatment), which allowed us to drive to Tennessee and spend several days in the Smoky Mountains.
The hotel boasted award-winning food, a fantastic spa, and loads of cozy fireplaces and sconces by which to read or play chess or puzzle. There were thousands of acres of trails and farmland and animals, including a particularly friendly turkey–friendly like a dog–that made me rethink my omnivore status. We rode horses and visited animals and played cards. And yes, dear reader, we did other things, too . . . like eat one of the best meals of our lives the evening of our seventeenth wedding anniversary. So, this is nothing against the hotel (or my husband!) when I say that the most intimate part of the whole trip occurred during the drive to Tennessee and back.
Out of the gate let me disabuse you of any notions of physical intimacy in the car. I’m speaking of the emotional end of things. A few hours into our trip we stopped in Asheville for lunch and then ended up stalking around two bookstores in the downtown area. When was the last time we’d done this together? Milled about a bookstore with no real purpose or timeline? No small person demanding snacks or an entire set of adventure books involving unicorns that band together to save a small family of squirrels displaced by lemonade-stand-sprawl? It felt downright luxurious.
We landed near the memoir and personal essay collection section. I’d just read about David Sedaris writing over a dozen drafts for each essay, and his book Happy Go Lucky caught my eye. I told my husband I’d been meaning to read it, and as I turned to bring the book with me, he suggested that we listen to it together in the car.
Listen to a collection of personal essays together in the car?!
*chills*
Things were getting serious.
My husband and I always talk about books together. This year I convinced him he needed to read Franzen’s The Corrections and Kingsolver’s Demon Copperhead, both of which we loved. (At my suggestion he also read Shapiro’s Signal Fires but the magic just wasn’t there for him as it was for me.) Because of my husband’s preference for audio books, he just crushes titles between his long jogs and commutes to the office. But me, I’m always trying to steal moments to curl up with a book in hand. Podcasts are the only thing I’ll listen to when doing dishes or driving around to pick kids up from various events. My husband and I are almost never seated in the same room reading books. And while I understand why, it’s always made me the tiniest bit sad for us.
I didn’t know how this listening to personal essays together in the car thing was going to go. I have an aversion to audiobooks I can’t explain. Not a superiority thing, but maybe a processing thing? Which doesn’t make exact sense because of the aforementioned podcasts. And not to mention he doesn’t really read personal essays—what if my suggestion was a dud? But we dove in anyway, letting David Sedaris’ voice wrap its arms around us as my husband drove the car into the mountains. And let me tell you: it was a hit. We laughed at the ridiculous, we cried over the poignant (okay just me), we made gut-punch sounds at the irreverent. We even paused to discuss. The small space practically vibrated with our shared experience. Who said you can’t teach an old dog new tricks? As we approached the heaven-on-earth hotel, I couldn’t wait for the drive home.
With a new year upon us, I want to stay open to new experiences in old relationships, places, and spaces. And the thing is, it’s like getting into cold water. You can try to swipe a toe, but you’re better off plunging right on in. Thanks for everything, David, Sedaris.
*checks Audible for the Britney’s memoir*
I published my first Substack newsletter in January 2022, which means I’m rapidly approaching my two-year anniversary of writing here at least monthly. I have no massive subscriber numbers to throw out. Did one of my essays go viral though? No. But did I make some career-changing connections along the way? Also no. And yet, here I am each month sharing my observations, things that caught my eye and books I liked, things that have helped or irked me. What can I say? I like it and hope you do, too. Thank you so much for your support along the way. <3
Fiction Read in 2023
Signal Fires by Dani Shapiro * Writers & Lovers by Lily King *Tom Lake by Ann Patchett * Super Bloom by Megan Tady * Burst by Mary Otis * My Last Innocent Year by Daisy Alpert Florin * In Polite Company by Gervais Hagerty * Demon Copperhead by Barbara Kingsolver * Hello Beautiful by Ann Napolitano * Women Are The Fiercest Creatures by Andrea Dunlop * The Corrections by Jonathan Franzen * The Late Americans by Brandon Taylor * Sing, Unburied, Sing by Jesmyn Ward * Social Engagement by Avery Carpenter Forrey * Best of Friends by Kamila Shamsie* Tomorrow, And Tomorrow, And Tomorrow by Gabrielle Zevin * The Girls Are All So Nice Here by Laurie Elizabeth Flynn * Book Lovers by Emily Henry * Conversations With Friend by Sally Rooney * Cloud Cuckoo Land by Anthony Doerr * I Have Some Questions For You by Rebecca Makkai * Where The Crawdads Sing by Delia Owens * Everything I Never Told You by Celeste Ng * Wellness by Nathan Hill
Non-Fiction Read in 2023
The Water Is Wide by Pat Conroy * You Could Make This Place Beautiful by Maggie Smith * My Salinger Year by Joanna Rakoff * Quarterlife by Satya Doyle Byock *Never Enough by Jennifer Breheny Wallace
Things I’m Glad I Tried in 2023
Zibby Retreats in Charleston and Miami–What fun these events were! I met friends and authors (sometimes the two overlapped) and bookstore owners and editors and enthusiastic readers. I’d never done something like this before, and I’m grateful I was able to pull it off this year.
Nutritionist through Sarah Wragge Wellness–Didn’t think I’d be writing this: working with a nutritionist has helped me a lot. And not just with weight loss but also energy and sleep. I’m very much a I-can-do-that-myself type when it comes to food and really resisted any sort of nutritional guidance I thought I could just glean from a book. But my old tricks weren’t working and honestly I’d gotten into a rut. Sometimes we need more help than we realize, and that’s okay!
Daddy’s Little Dress Shirts–This magician turned some of my dad’s shirts into gorgeous dresses and skirts for my girls.
The Shit No One Tells You About Writing Beta Reader Mash Up–I started reading work with a wonderful group of women I found through the podcast’s beta reader program. Community is important, especially finding the right community for you in your writing adventures. Don’t give up!
Not drinking the first six weeks of 2023–felt pretty good not going to lie
All jokes about racket sports aside, I really enjoyed playing tennis this year.
Favorite Recipe in 2023
Caro Chambers’ Pasta Alla Sorta Norma
(favorites of all time: Marcella Hazan’s Bolognese and Ina Garten’s Roasted Chicken)
Favorite Writing Moments in 2023
My Tiny Love Stories publication
Personalized rejection for short story I’ve been working on
Here was my most popular newsletter of the year
Favorite Non-Profits in Charlotte, NC, 2023
I feel the same about audio books! I also appreciate that you haven’t had big numbers here on Substack and still love it. Me too! I love the genuine connections and the a accomplishment I feel each time I write and send it out into the world. Glad to know you here!
Cate! I smiled so much thinking of you and your husband discovering the joy of essay listening in the car-- and Sedaris is the perfect writer to convert anyone. My husband would never do that with me. I'm just thrilled we found a show to watch together--Suits--which we've both been enjoying immensely.
I like audiobooks, but almost only nonfiction. For me I think it IS a processing thing. For fiction it's so much harder to keep everything straight whereas essays or memoir is often easier to follow. Sedaris is the rare writer I will listen to AND read-- a double dip. I'm that big of a fan. Happy-go-lucky was an excellent one.
I remember your most popular newsletter and used it as a prompt in my class this year. :)