Melissa Goodnight

Hey Weirdos, if you follow me on Instagram you’ll remember I started the year off blazing through my January reads and I thought perhaps that would set me up for success in the coming months, but alas. Here we are in the second week of April and I am just now finishing my March reads. We all knew the was bound to happen. But thanks for sticking around here anxiously anticipating my reviews on books that are several years old that I just now have the time to read. I like really appreciate it. So what is on today’s agenda:

• A recap of my January reads
• February was a sucky month, but I did read a book!
• March reads are late, but also I read a NEW book in March
• Whatever else pops into my mind while I write this post

I always feel better, more organized, and more accomplished when there is a list.

January

(Taken from my Instagram, find me there @missygoodnight)

I’m off to a start. That’s it, that’s all I’m willing to say. I don’t want to set myself up for failure by suggesting that having read one book in the first weeks of the year means my monthly readings will blaze along.

That reminds me that I once knew a man named Blaze. Like that was his actual name. He wasn’t fast and honestly he wasn’t fire. Oof, that’s hard to live up to.

But what about being named a “Most Anticipated Book” of 2024 like “The Tree Doctor?” Does it live up to the hype? Uh, yeah. It does.

This coming-of-middle-age story touched so many often-overlooked topics of womanhood that I did actually laugh and cry and nod my head. It’s deeply profound, but not without the word fuck a good amount of times, and as you know I’m here for that.

Some won’t like it for the reasons I love it: the need to Google characters from historic Japanese literature and the scientific names of conifers, California’s enigmatic coast as setting, and watching a woman live and grieve and love (there’s great sex!) during the pandemic.

This is a novel at the intersection of nature and art and loneliness and yearning and honestly so much more. But mostly it’s an honest look at the complex life of a middle-aged mother, and shit, I needed to read it right now. You can read my official review here.

The above pic features some of my lofty reading goals for the year. Marion and I disagreed on a number of titles. Well, we disagreed on all of them really, on account of them not being Westerns. These are books I bought over the years but never read, through no fault of my own!

That’s a lie, of course.

You also might notice that a couple of them were written by men. As you know I’ve been trying NOT to read men as of late, but well, it would seem I’m throwing Marion a bone.

February

Damn Babes, February was a lot of things. It was a lot of places, a lot of miles on the old Vans. A lot of doggie hugs and big feelings. A lot of trying to keep heads and hearts afloat. And just once, a lot of big ole tire. But I managed. And look at you! You managed too. I’m so proud of us.

My reading took a backseat in February on account of a lot. But just before the proverbial shit hit the fan—somewhere between AWP in Kansas City and bringing my mom back to Atlanta with me only to drive back a week later because we were losing my favorite aunt, my mom’s best friend and big sister—I read Elizabeth Wetmore’s “Valentine.”

I ordered it in 2020 and attempted to read it back then, but that turned out to be a horrible, no good, very bad idea. Not because it’s a terrible novel, it’s not! It’s earned a righteous spot on my list of favs for its lovely words and ideas, an unequivocal sense of place, and real, relatable characters. But it’s also full of a quiet kind of devastation that my back-then heart wasn’t ready for.

What I didn’t know was how it would shape my right-now heart when a lot came. How the women in its pages offered gumption, love, grace, and just enough rage to conjure my own kind of courage amid the chaos.

February was, I dunno, fucking terrible. And while I’m far from processing anything beyond that, I do know in those moments of dark, dark, I found solace in the sisterhood. The women who shaped me. The women who continue to shape me. The women of both my back then and my right now. Women I know and some I never will.

We have a saying in Kansas, “Ad astra per aspera.” It’s Latin for, “To the stars through difficulties.” February was difficult. But it was also a reminder of solidarity and sisterhood, and so was my February read. The feeling of taking care of what and who needs taking of. It’s just what we do.

If you need a reminder of the courageous women before you, around you, and the oft-overlooked woman inside you, I’d recommend “Valentine.”

March

If you think for a hot second that I read “Valentine” in February because I am in some way called to “themes” you would be actually very correct. Furthermore, that is the exact reason I wanted to read a book with a green cover in March.

I’m shallow and let’s be honest, basic at best.

Much like some of the undergrads in Kiley Reid’s “Come and Get It,” which was more surprising than anything else, but surprising in all the best ways!

First of all, Reid pays so much attention to detail that within the first couple chapters I felt like I was living in the dorm with this cast of very eclectic, very rambunctious, very realistic characters. Made me miss college, but only for a hot second.

This book has all the markings of a bad (read: VERY GOOD) sordid story of college women doing college women things, but also there is this older woman—an English professor whom I obviously would have fucked in college, or now, whatever—that is both using them for fodder and being used by them (??). Then there are some obnoxious parents and some sideline characters for levity.

But did I mention a central character who I think I would actually die for? Like she’s the real deal. She’s honest and vulnerable and messy and so relatable that I would occasionally stop reading to look at Reid’s picture because like maybe we knew each other in college? And maybe, much like I’ve always anticipated, my pathetic life is being used as fodder? My ego is still not clear on this. I’ll keep you posted.

I also started Ottessa Moshfegh’s “Death in Her Hands” but I haven’t finished it yet. Obviously I’m saving it to finish when my pink and yellow hydrangeas are in full bloom…

But so far it’s, well, Ottessa Moshfegh. And I am here for it.

April

This seems premature, but let’s do it. What am I if not my very own hype woman always trying to set myself up for success, then crawling to you begging for mercy when I don’t succeed?

Okay, so on the real, real, I was at a thrift store the other day (I LOVE thrift stores and flea markets and antique shops) and I came across a book sale! Whew. Okay, I know, I know, calm down! But that is how I felt too. I’m talking the sale of all sales. I’m talking 4/$1.00 kinda stuff, y’all.

Anyway, I bought about 40 books.

Damn it.

I know.

Okay.

Yeah, that was my husband’s reaction too.

One of them was this book from a looooong time ago (2017, remember that horrible, shitfire year?) written by Anne Bogel whose name was vaguely familiar and when I randomly opened the book as you do, I read that she is Modern Mrs. Darcy and ope, yeah, she is.

Well shit, I just got her latest email while I was writing this.

Okay, so anyway, I picked up the book (on account of the price tag and my lingering desire to learn more about myself) because it promised that I would in fact, learn more about myself and others through understanding different personality traits.

The book is “Reading People” and the cover has spring-colored flowers so I think we are good here.

I started it last night and I made it through the introduction and first chapter before falling asleep and while Bogel has already quoted scripture in the first few pages (I generally just overlook any of her religious meanderings because it is not for me and that’s okay) I pulled “The Price of Salt” out of my stack for balance. I hear it’s a lesbian novel with a happy ending? Sure. I’ll believe it when I read it.

While I was at it, I pulled another thrift store book about John Wayne (this is my real, actual reading life right now, y’all) because I’m working on an essay about him (this is my real, actual writing life too).

This is my real life, damn it!

#Fodder #IsItPumpkinSpicedLatteSeasonYet

Okay so yeah, you’re caught up and I guess check back with me in a few months. Or don’t. I probably won’t be done reading these books.

M.