september reading recap 📚
as seen on my shelf #3
Your home is like an extension of the self, in all its eclectic glory. Curate your fridge as though it’s a gallery; all polaroid pictures and receipts from special occasions. Frame your favourite prints. String fairy lights across the window, stack books on every surface. It should make you feel comfortable, and relaxed, and also completely yourself, whatever that means for you. Your home is your sanctuary: take time to make it your own- Hannah Connolly
I had a friend over for dinner two weekends ago. She’s Nigerian, like me, but raised in London, unlike me. Living in Nuremberg, we both believe we’re in some sort of saccharine, Germanic purgatory, but we’ve resolved to make the most of it. We made jollof rice, chicken, banana bread, and puff puff. White wine was had, and the third most exciting event of the night was when we realized I was out of sugar, and she had to run to the Lidl a street over with only five minutes until closing. (Of course, it would have been much more efficient if I had gone instead, since I already knew the way. But it was dark out, and I am at times crippled by the fear of stepping on dog turd.)
The night was a success—turds avoided—Nobody Wants This brightly projected from my wall, with Alexa playing Infinity Song in the background. The banana bread was the singular culinary failure (something about the texture), but my friend went home with a Tupperware full of food, and I had that rare sensation of feeling like I might yet make a good Nigerian wife someday.
I read a lot of novels with main characters whose lives reflect a funhouse mirror replica of mine—women in their early to mid-twenties living in perpetually overcast cities, with entry-level corporate jobs, who fancy themselves writers in a bashful yet self-serious way. Like me, they have an endless capacity for navel-gazing and unpacking the minutiae of their emotions with their friends and boyfriends, who nod earnestly and assure them that all will be well. In return, they do the same for them. I like to think I’m considerably more tolerable than these women—my friends describe me using words like strict and exacting, which I take to mean I have a bias for action—a trait these characters never seem to possess. But I can’t deny the way these women in these books have shaped me, in particular how they’ve taught me to think of myself as a character, with all the world as her stage.
But first, my apartment.
I love it; it’s very me. Still, I’m a product of my generation and not above admitting I designed the space with some notion of creating TikTok content. Sue me. And while that never did happen, I often find my mind alighting on the idea of home as prop, or home as backdrop, or home as set. I think of myself, my friends, and all the Sallys and Cadys in the books I read, and how for us all, our first apartment is put together as some sort of hopeful, frenzied offering to adulthood—a performance for ourselves as much as it is for our friends, dates, parents, and yes, TikTok.
When I feel a bit shitty, solemnly juvenile, I sit on my well-stuffed sofa, look around, and think, half this shit might have been bought with Klarna, but at least it’s mine. Yes, girl. You’re grown now.
BOOKS I READ IN SEPTEMBER
Day by Michael Cunningham
My first Michael Cunningham—I really wanted to read this one. Day follows a family in London—the parents, an uncle, another uncle, and two small children—as they weather the storms of growing up, growing old, and falling in and out of love. It’s a circadian novel, where we get to experience just one day in the life of the family over three years, one of which is during the pandemic. I usually stay away from pandemic novels because I find a lot of them a bit too on the nose, but this one was quiet and contemplative in a way that spoke to me. I love books that investigate the details of ordinary people’s lives and, in so doing, explore what it means to be human. None of the characters were particularly spectacular or lovable, but they were all so thoroughly human
Cloud Cuckoo Land by Anthony Doerr
Each month, I try to read one really big book—500 pages at least. This was my pick for the month, and after seeing it ranked highly in the New York Times' 100 Books of the 21st Century (the reader’s edition), I was so excited. Well, it disappointed. We have about five main characters, all connected in some convoluted way by this book, the essence of which I failed to understand. A more generous review would admit that I probably didn’t give this the attention it deserved, but there was nothing about the plot or characters to earn that attention. There were moments of joy and storylines I enjoyed, but wow, this kind of fantasy is just not my thing.
Vile Bodies by Evelyn Waugh
I'm not going to say much about this one because I didn’t finish it. Vile Bodies is about a kaleidoscope of young, reckless characters having a romp in what I guess is the British version of the Roaring '20s. I usually adore books like this, but I just couldn't get into it. I think I was looking for a book with a more substantive plot at the time, and this simply wasn't doing it for me. I'll pick it back up in about two years
Good Material by Dolly Alderton
I’ve had two Dolly Alderton books on my shelf for a while. I picked the first one up because it's nonfiction, and I struggle with those. This one languished on my shelf for a few months because nothing sounded worse than 300+ pages of a 35 year old man making a fool of himself after a bad breakup. I hate to witness a downward spiral. Honestly, I picked up this book to face my fears, and I’m glad I did. I had to close my eyes a few times and remind myself I wasn't the main character and he wasn't me. There were scenes I couldn't get through, so I had to pick it back up the next day. This one took me a full week to finish. I was just so embarrassed for Andy! Yes, I couldn’t look away, which I guess says something.
Notes on an Execution by Danya Kukafka
We follow Ansel Packer, who is scheduled to die in twelve hours. He knows what he’s done and now awaits execution—the same chilling fate he forced on those girls years ago. But Ansel doesn’t want to die; he wants to be celebrated, understood. He hoped it wouldn’t end like this, not for him. This one was sooooo good. Creepy, haunting, and smart. If you like true crime and thrillers but are always questioning the ethics of both, you should read this. What I loved was how Ansel’s story was told through the lens of the women in his life, so we got to see the real, painful impact his actions had. But then we also got his POV, which was kind of insane but also so well done."
In the Dream House by Carmen Maria Machado
This was hands down my favorite read of the month—a memoir about two young, ambitious writers whose passionate relationship turns dark when one begins to subject the other to emotional and, at times, physical cruelty. I’ve always thought memoirs were not for me, but I flew through this so fast, partly because it was so good, but partly because it was so sad, and I wanted to get past each page as quickly as I could. This book doesn’t answer but shows. How did it happen? Why did you stay? I’ve heard her other book is great as well, so I’ll have to pick that up soon.
BOOKS I BOUGHT IN SEPTEMBER
Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead by Olga Tokarczuk
Brooklyn by Colm Tóibín
His Bloody Project by Graeme Macrae Burnet
French Braid by Anne Tyler
The Rules of Attraction by Bret Easton Ellis
Expectation by Anna Hope
Intermezzo by Sally Rooney (the UK cover grew on me oops!)
ICYMI, last month I decided to start a bookclub for as seen on where each month I’ll invite one Substack creator to read a book with me and discuss it for the newsletter. Last month I read The Interestings by Meg Wolitzer with
who writesThe Interestings follows six teenagers who meet at a summer camp for the arts and become inseparable. Decades later, the bond remains powerful, but so much else has changed. In The Interestings, Wolitzer follows these characters from the height of youth through middle age, as their talents, fortunes, and degrees of satisfaction diverge, exploring the meaning of talent; the nature of envy; the roles of class, art, money, and power; and how all of it can shift and tilt precipitously over the course of a friendship and a life.
Ochuko and Hannah: A WhatsApp Transcript
Hannah: God, this is good writing.
Ochuko: Ugh, the way she writes about jealousy, but not just any kind – jealousy of your female friends – is so good. It makes my heart hurt.
Hannah: Same.
Ochuko: Have you ever had a friendship like that?
Hannah: Haven’t we all?
Ochuko: Good point.
Ochuko: Have you read the bit about Cathy yet?
Hannah: Just got to it.
Ochuko: Do you think it’d be written this way if it were published in 2024?
Hannah: I’m not sure. It’s a weird one. Like, probably, yes? It’s a really nuanced situation, which is what’s so good about it, right?
Ochuko: Yeah, I can’t believe I haven’t read any of her work before. It’s so subtle and thought-provoking and well written at the same time.
Hannah: Right. And also relatable lol.
Ochuko: So relatable.
Hannah: The introspection?
Ochuko: The way every one of them is kind of a stand in for a stereotype without falling into the trap of being a stereotype?
Hannah: The way she writes guilt?
Ochuko: And love?
Hannah: And what it means to find success? And female friendship?!
Ochuko: Literally. A masterpiece.
Ochuko: Also: it feels like these characters’ entire lives are encompassed in one thing, like a snow-globe or something, which is really cool.
Hannah: So cool. I love that the narrative sort of interweaves. Do you think the title is ironic?
Ochuko: Yeah, I think so. But also, that’s the thing about irony, isn’t it?
Hannah: What?
Ochuko: There’s always some truth to it.
Hannah: God, you’re good.
Ochuko: Hahahah stop. No but seriously. They are all interesting, and talented. But what Meg Wolitzer says about the interaction between talent and privilege is fascinating to me.
Hannah: Right, like you can’t have success without having both. If you’re really lucky, you can have it if you have one, but you really need both.
Ochuko: Which is kind of the opposite of what the American Dream says, isn’t it?
Hannah: Yeah, it’s kinda satirical. She’s saying: talent is important, but so is being rich, and educated.
Ochuko: Everything is both tongue-in-cheek and deadly serious. I don’t know how she does it.
Hannah: Argh, yes! And the way she just twists it all at the end?
Ochuko: Wait, what do you mean?
Hannah: Well, it’s like she spends the whole book talking about talent – or Jules, her character does – about how starry and special and everything talent is, and then at the end she kind of subverts it by focussing on the human relationship parts.
Ochuko: Oh, my god. I hadn’t thought of it like that but you’re so right.
Hannah: Right?!
Ochuko: Yeah, like there’s no point in having talent, or being ‘interesting’ if you’re not also connecting with other people.
Hannah: Exactly, and like, that’s what the book is really about, I think. A kind of meditation on the importance of relationships with people; and about how the older you get, those relationships shift and change. And some of them you lose – most of them, actually – but the ones you keep know you almost better than you know yourself?
Ochuko: Totally. And also the best people are often the ones that want to challenge you. Like Jules’ husband’s speech when he talks about how none of them are really that ‘interesting.’
Hannah: Yeah, I actually love their relationship to be honest. It’s very real.
Ochuko: Same. What do you think it was about the camp that made Jules want to go back?
Hannah: I think it was kind of like returning to the innocence of her childhood, where everything was once perfect, and life was all opportunity. I think that’s such a big theme in the book: that as you age, doors quietly shut, and you’re left with the choices you’ve made, and the people you’ve held onto along the way. But there’s just something so alluring about the past, to Jules. To most of the characters, actually.
Ochuko: I think there’s something alluring about the past for all of us.
Hannah: Yeah, the past is the only thing that can ever be perfect. There’s a whole literary trope called the ‘Pastoral’ which centres around this concept: that we’re all trying desperately to return to our own personal golden ages. For many people, that’s childhood. For Jules, that’s the camp.
Ochuko: What is it for you?
Hannah: Probably a similar thing to Jules. I used to go to all these chamber music courses with my friends, and do things like eat Nutella with breadsticks when I was supposed to be practising. I thought I was being really rebellious. But I’m still friends with the people I met there. They’re like my own version of this cast of characters. What about you, do you have a golden era?
Ochuko: Hmmm this was definitely not my golden era, but the two years I was in boarding school in Canada felt like one long talent show slash summer camp. Everyone had a thing.
Hannah: I had an English teacher once who really, really inspired me. He was a brilliant thinker, and writer. He always claimed he had a pet tortoise but kind of implied that this tortoise might also be imaginary. Anyway: he was quirky, and inspiring, and I liked him. But my point is, he said this phrase that I’ve never forgotten: “Nostalgia is like heroin for old people.”
Ochuko: Oh, my god. Do you think it’s true?
Hannah: I don’t know, I’m not old yet. But reading this book… I don’t know. It might be.
Ochuko: Let’s hope not. How did you feel, when you finished it?
Hannah: Is it possible to feel heartbroken and hopeful at the same time?
Ochuko: I think so.
Hannah: Then that’s how I felt. Heartbroken, hopeful, and also incredulous, because how is this book not a viral sensation?!
Ochuko: Right?! It’s so good, I could not stop reading it.
Hannah: Me neither.
Ochuko: Maybe it’s time to make it go viral.
Hannah: Challenge accepted (lol).
Playing around with format, so let me know what you think!
This month,
and I will be reading Entitlement by Rumaan Alam. I actually just got done and it was A TRIP! Think The Guest meets Ripe.See you next month XO
omg your apartment is a dream
Thank you SO MUCH for this gorgeous conversation. You're an icon and I feel very grateful to be able to call you a friend 🥺️