Summer Reading Scrapbook

Plus, a few of my all-time favorite summer reads.

Here in (west) LA, we just had our first over-80-degree day, which could only mean one thing: Summer. I’d wager that the dog days of reading mean something different to everyone, but I wanted to take this opportunity to describe what I look for in poolside/porch/park reading. If summer books were the perfect cocktail, these are the ingredients that would go into mine. Plus, a few recommendations I couldn’t resist offering along the way.

Summer Read Must-Haves

Unsplash/Annie Sp

WATER

Summer books must be wet—you can’t tell me otherwise. Be it an ocean, a pool, a lake, or a pond, a character needs at least the option of swimming. Last year, I tore through Alex Garland’s The Beach. The story follows Richard, who, after a series of strange circumstances, gets his hands on a map that leads to a secret, you guessed it, beach. What follows is a violent, gripping tale of what a new civilization might look like—and it’s absolutely thrilling. I’d be remiss not to also mention The Great Gatsby, Goodbye Columbus, The Swimmers, and The Neopolitan Novels.

The opening scene of Goodbye Columbus, just because it’s TOO GOOD not to include.

The first time I saw Brenda she asked me to hold her glasses. Then she stepped out to the edge of the diving board and looked foggily into the pool; it could have been drained, myopic Brenda would never have known it. She dove beautifully, and a moment later she was swimming back to the side of the pool, her head of short-clipped auburn hair held up, straight ahead of her, as though it were a rose on a long stem. The rose glided dry to the edge and then it was beside me. “Thank you,” she said, her eyes watery though not from the water. She extended a hand for her glasses but did not put them on until she turned and headed away. I watched her move off. Her hands suddenly appeared behind her. She caught the bottom of her suit between thumb and index finger and flicked what flesh had been showing back where it belonged. My blood jumped.

That night, before dinner, I called her.

“Who are you calling?” my Aunt Gladys asked.

“Some girl I met today.”

A SPICY RELATIONSHIP DYNAMIC

I know summer romances get all the roses, but I’m here for the anti-romances, okay? What immediately springs to mind is the singular reading experience of listening to Emma Cline’s The Guest last summer on audio. It’s a short little thing, and the moment I finished it, I immediately started the book over again.

The story follows a young woman who has hitched her wagon to an older, wealthy man. He invites her to his summerhouse in the Hamptons (ding, ding, ding—we’ve got water, folks), and things quickly fall apart. The ending will enrage you; I can’t recommend it enough.

Other titles of note: Mr. Bridge and Mrs. Bridge, Animal, Asylum Road, A Separation

NO MORE THAN 230 PAGES

It’s maybe my hottest take that most books could be 250 pages, but because it’s summer—a time when my takes get even hotter—I’m lowering my limit to 230. Let’s keep it tight, everyone. (Okay, so only about half of my recommendations are under 230—but I did try.)

CLAUSTROPHOBIA

I think beach reads need to feel somewhat stuffy—almost like you can’t quite take a full breath. I think every book I’ve listed so far has some type of claustrophobia, but I’ll name Fever Dream here as one of those crawl-out-of-your-skin summer reads. The blurb reads: “A young woman named Amanda lies dying in a rural hospital clinic. A boy named David sits beside her. She's not his mother. He's not her child. Together, they tell a haunting story of broken souls, toxins, and the power and desperation of family.”

Nice-to-Haves

European destinations. Ice cubes. Cherries. Pool floats. Outdoor parties. Fireworks. Sea creatures. Mimosas. Iced Coffee. Seafood. Hot pavement. Frizz. Sunsets. Sunburns. Sunscreen. Skin indentations from pool chairs. Sweat. The Cape. Hot city smell. Popsicles. Sandcastles. Flip flops. General heat-related discomfort and/or mania. Someone calling for an ice bucket. Jellyfish stings. Broken air conditioners. Air conditioners that work too well. Heat waves. Really ripe tomatoes. Sunstroke. Sundresses. Fun hats. Napping on the beach. Napping by the pool. Grilling. Cold sand. Warm sand. Sand spurs. Okra. Peaches. Strawberries. Brine. Bad decisions. Bendy straws. Flamingos. Cocktail umbrellas. Flip-flops.

Photos: Unsplash/katarzyna kos; Museums Victoria; tobias tullius

Speaking of summer, here’s a little video I made from footage I took in Charleston earlier this year. It’s always summer there, in a way. Also, PLEASE tell me about your favorite summer books in the comments. I must know!

---

Reading: Exhibit, R.O. Kwong

Watching: Better Call Saul

Eating: Farmer’s market peaches