Tuesday, September 4, 2018
When Summer Ends by Isabelle Rae
So my daughter stopped by last week with her friend Claire to drop off this book and "check up on me," whatever that is supposed to mean. She said it was a good book for this time of year, to which I explained that the magic of books is that you can imagine yourself in any time or place and that if she needed to read something that coincided with the seasons, she should read the Farmer's Almanac, which has lot of helpful information. But she is the kind of person who won't eat a tomato in the winter or an oyster in the summer or a pickle during a full moon or I don't even know what else, so what I did expect. Anyway, she just gave Claire one of those smug "See what I mean?" looks and ignored me. So I read the book right away, lest it go bad on my shelf and start to smell of rotting pop lit. There's not much to say for it, but in it's defense, it was no more banal than the conversation with Susie and Claire. "Can you believe it is almost September?" "I know, it seems impossible!" "Where does the time go?" Are you fucking kidding me? Do you own a calendar? Can you count to 31? Do you perhaps remember how this happened last year? And another thing, it you want sympathy for how life changes at the end of summer, don't look here! My tomorrow is going to be spent the same as my yesterday, sitting here reading all the crap books you keep dropping off. I should have read the Farmer's Almanac myself - maybe it would have predicted this bullshit.