September 2022, coming in late

I’ve never actually read Marie Kondo’s book in its entirety but I have read enough of it and seen 2.43 episodes of the Netflix show that I feel confident in my understanding of the whole deal. You hold something, you feel nothing, you donate the thing.

I’m a big donator. I don’t like to keep things that make me feel bad—or worse—make me feel nothing. Even before the concept of “tidying up” gently shook American culture, I liked to tidy up. I perpetually have a box in my bedroom that I throw clothes into as they a) don’t fit b) are uncomfortable on my body c) feel like not my style anymore. I have always been a clothes-donator but when the pandemic hit and my body changed and my life changed and my priorities change and my style changed, the box is always there.

I wish there were more reliable options than Goodwill but there are not, so sometimes, I donate to Goodwill. I prefer to donate to Aurora Commons, a hyper-local (to me) nonprofit that offers a welcoming space for unhoused people to not only access resources but also rest and eat a meal and take a break. Aurora Commons doesn’t just want your crap, though, which I respect. I donate what I have that they actually need and then move onto the next. I feel especially bad donating clothes to Goodwill versus like, cutlery or kitchenware, so for clothes, my next move is to donate through ThredUp’s clothing recycling program. There are monetary benefits to doing so but I mostly ignore those and use it as a very small, very slow-to-grow savings account that I can use for thrifted clothes only. I did buy a black denim jean jacket that I’m pretty sure my best friend owns(/ed?) that I coveted years ago with my earnings. That’s exactly what I wanted from this relationship. Every so often, I’ll purchase a used, not-currently-in-style staple piece from a brand I’ve seen parted ways with. I’m always on the lookout for places to give stuff to; I’m constantly evaluating my things and how they fit into my life.

Speaking of Tidying Up—the book, not the thing—here’s what I crawled through in September.

[Books I read]

By the Book (A Meant To Be Novel) by Jasmine Guillory (2022) | Quick summary: Loosely based on Beauty and the Beast, a publishing assistant saves the day by showing up irl to a difficult celebrity’s house to shake a memoir out of him. Romance ensues.
Goddamn, Guillory produces a lot of books. She pumps out like two a year and I hate to say this but it shows! By the Book was her worst yet. It felt wildly unrealistic, even for a romcom, and the characters were uninteresting. I’d pass on this unless you’re a completist and want to read every JG romcom.
[fiction, romcom, written by a Black New York Times bestselling author, shorter, breezy read]

The Work of Living: Working People Talk About Their Lives and the Year the World Broke by Maximillian Alvarez (2022) | Quick summary: Stories about working people who, especially since COVID, have struggled with fear, loss, rage, and capitalism.
This was so great. More of a series of raw interviews than a book but I wish there were many more platforms like Alvarez has created and continues to create. It’s persuasive to read stories from regular people about their regular lives to fully understand how fucked things really are. It’s important to remember that every person is just an individual and these interviews remind us of that.
[nonfiction, interviews, written by a Mexican Editor in Chief, writer, and podcast host, medium-length read]

American Bastard by Jan Beatty (2021) | Quick summary: Poetry-essays from the perspective of a person who was adopted.
A lot of what I do in my day is think about adoption and foster care and concepts most of us don’t think about regularly like “permanency” and “adoption recruitment.” A lot has changed in the five years I’ve been at my org—both in me and in the work I am complicit in. I grew up thinking adopting a kid, especially out of foster care, was the absolute best and most selfless way of child-rearing there is. It’s something I’ve always seriously considered for my future and suddenly, jarringly, I’m not sure I feel that way anymore. It’s about time adoptees have a voice after decades of centering adoptive parents’ instead. Listening to kids in foster care and reading the voices of adult adoptees has changed how I think about everything. Learning and growing is a bitch.
[nonfiction, poetry, memoir written by a white award-winning writer and poet, shorter but heavy read]

[Books I heard]

Directed by James Burrows: Five Decades of Stories from the Legendary Director of Taxi, Cheers, Frasier, Friends, Will & Grace, and More by James Burrows with Eddy Friedfeld (2022) | Quick summary: Insight, casting stories, and special details about the greatest sitcoms in history.
This is absolutely one I’ll buy a physical copy of but it was a wonderful listen read by Jim Burrows himself. To hear him deliver the lines he directed while weaving and connecting each motif and theme through all of his shows. Without even knowing it was possible, I have a new appreciation for shows like Cheers, Will and Grace, and Frasier. I love knowing the little things: Cheers was the first sitcom to have cliffhangers. Norm’s character’s name was almost George! They fired someone for being an asshole in public about Rhea Perlman! Everyone loves each other! Still! We love to see it.
[literary fiction, magical realism, written by a novelist, filmmaker and Zen Buddhist priest, medium-length mindfuck of a read]

I’m Glad My Mom Died by Jennette McCurdy (2022) | Quick summary: McCurdy’s memoir about being a child actor, centering a pivotal and traumatizing relationship with her late mother.
I am a generation too old to have watched iCarly and I’m glad I never did because I’d be sure to hate it now. I have both a fascination and disgust with the concept of child actors and in case anyone thought things have gotten better for kids, McCurdy’s book disproves that. But more than the Nickelodeon shit, McCurdy’s delicate and cut-throat honest telling of her relationship with her mother will stick with me forever. There are a million things that are nothing like my own relationship with my mother and a dozen that were so relatable, I found myself pecked with goosebumps. I bought a physical copy after finishing but enjoying McCurdy’s deadpan delivery is well worth accompanying her words.
[nonfiction, memoir, written by a white writer, director, podcaster, singer, and former actress, medium-length listen]

[What I recommend]

• If you care about people and appreciate regular stories, The Work of Living: Working People Talk About Their Lives and the Year the World Broke by Maximillian Alvarez.
• If you’re a TV person, Jim Burrow’s Directed by James Burrows.
• If you have a mother and it’s kinda weird, I’m Glad My Mom Died by Jennette McCurdy.
• Not getting acrylics if you have to type a lot.
• Donating to mutual aid in your community.

More at the end of the month! Read something good in October.