Six books that feel like summer
On Gauloises, Francisco Goya, Italian islands, and evil eyes
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I like to think of myself as an optimist, but I have my limits. One of those limits: 32F weather in April, wind gusts up to 20mph, gray skies, and rain patterns that vacillate between torrential downpours and the type of mist that makes it feel embarrassing to use an umbrella, but ruins your hair if you don’t.
Since the dawn of “spring,” we’ve had one unseasonably warm day in New York, and I do mean day, because that evening we experienced the largest one-hour temperature drop in New York City history (-26 degrees at 5pm, the exact moment I had ventured out for the evening in shorts).
So, while visions of spring remain rooted FIRMLY in a fantasy, I’ve mentally skipped ahead about 40-50 degrees Fahrenheit and compiled a list of some of my favorite summertime books to keep my sane while we wait for the mercury’s rise.
If you need me, I’ll be at home rereading all of them while my sundresses continue to languish in the vacuum-sealed bag in my closet.
My Family and Other Animals
(Available here for under $10, but if you’re me, you’re doing the financially irresponsible but aesthetically sound thing and either buying this gorgeous second printing or going all in on the first printing).
I must’ve been ten years old when my dad, who read Gerald Durrell’s My Family and Other Animals himself as a child, handed me a copy. It’s a non-fiction(ish, I think?) account of the five years a young Gerald Durrell (who later became a naturalist) spent with his mother and four siblings on the island of Corfu.
I haven’t revisited the book since the first time I read it, but it was so evocative I can still recall snatches of it: Durrell describing lizards darting around in the island’s sizzling heat, the “strawberry pink” villa the family inhabited, and their swims in the Ionian Sea.
Durrell creates a summertime universe not just relatable to those who have had the pleasure of spending five years on a Greek Island, but to anyone who has ever enjoyed an evening watching the sun set over the ocean:
The sea was smooth, warm and as dark as black velvet, not a ripple disturbing the surface….distant coastline outlined by a faint reddish glow in the sky. Gradually, this faint glow deepened and grew brighter, spreading across the sky. Suddenly the moon, enormous, wine-red, edged herself over the fretted battlement of mountains, and threw a straight blood-red path across the dark sea.
or immersed themselves in the frenzy of summer hosting:
Sometimes the fresh load of guests would turn up before we had got rid of the previous group, and the chaos was indescribable; the house and garden would be dotted with poets, authors, artists, and playwrights arguing, painting, drinking, typing, and composing. Far from being the ordinary, charming people that Larry had promised, they all turned out to be the most extraordinary eccentrics who were so highbrow that they had difficulty in understanding one another.
It’s a sweet and funny story of family and nature. And if this rain continues…I might just need to dust off my 22-year-old copy.
Companion pieces: they adapted this for TV twice in recent years—once with Imelda Staunton as the matriarch; another time for Masterpiece Theater. Must admit I haven’t seen either, I’ll probably start with the second.
Companion PIECE: If you can neither get yourself to Corfu (anyone have a spare $70K?) nor the bookstore to buy a copy, at least treat yourself to this evil eye bracelet to summon some sun-washed Greek vibes. Or make like Gerry and…buy a tortoise.
My Brilliant Friend
(The full tetralogy is on sale right now, go for it)
I’ve written at length about the Neapolitan Novels, and I have no qualms about continuing to do so because Elena Ferrante is one of our greatest living authors. Though I had thoughts about the New York Times’s Best Books List, I was thrilled to see My Brilliant Friend take home the number one spot.
For the uninitiated (you must be new here, bienvenue), the Neapolitan Novels are a four-book series that tell the story of a friendship between two girls, Lila and Elena, from Naples, Italy, from their childhoods through old age—taking us from the 1950s to present day. Lila is brilliant but volatile; Elena is smart, stable, and always struggling to break free from the shadow of Lila’s sparkle.
The books are beautiful, violent, expansive, and fast-paced all at once. There’s so much to love (honestly, if you haven’t read them, I IMPLORE YOU to do so!!!!), but the parts of the story that affected me the most all took place on the tiny island of Ischia, a volcanic island Southwest of Naples. Elena’s first trip to Ischia is a solo endeavor, one of the first times she’s able to experience life without Lila (an experience that begins as a success, and ends in devastating fashion). Ferrante’s descriptions of everything from first crushes to drinking wine late into a humid evening to taking respite from scorching heat in the comfort of a tiny, pitch-dark room make you feel like you’re there, experiencing all of summer’s sometimes suffocating, occasionally exhilarating energy.
Companion pieces: The HBO-RAI adaption of the novels is some of the most stunning television ever created. If you’ve read the books and haven’t watched the movie, close your laptop or turn off your phone and TURN IT ON RIGHT NOW, I don’t even care if you don’t finish this newsletter. The first four episodes are slow, BUT STAY WITH IT. From there, it’s unbelievable; the casting is pitch-perfect, the clothes, interiors and lighting are sumptuous, and it’s all brought home with my favorite score of all-time1, by the inimitable Max Richter (I walked down the aisle at my wedding to Richter’s Vivaldi Spring I Recomposition, I think it’s the most beautiful piece ever composed).
Companion PIECE: Lila’s wardrobe in the second and third seasons of this series had me instantly lusting after simple cotton dresses to wear all summer long. Last year, I caved and bought the butter yellow Ebba dress from Ciao Lucia, an LA-based brand inspired by 1960s Italy, and while my Duolingo Italian score has unfortunately remained below-beginner, I feel like I’m absorbing a little bit of that Ischia dolce vita whenever I wear it. (The Pavo is in my cart).
Bonjour Tristesse
(Better cover than the one I have. If you want to test the bounds of your French knowledge, the first printing is only $35).
It’s an experience universally acknowledged that if you are a teenager that receives a Barnes & Noble gift card every Christmas, you’re eventually going to go out, buy a copy of Bonjour, Tristesse, finish it in a day, and then attempt to pull off Breton stripes and smoking cigarettes in short order.
Published in France in 1954, when author Françoise Sagan was just eighteen, the story takes place in a large villa on the French Riviera, and follows 17-year-old Cécile, who is spending the summer there with her father and his girlfriend Elsa. The summer is going fine until a friend of Cécile’s late mother, Anne, shows up, and threatens to upend everything. Machinations and tragedy ensue. A slim, classic summer read.
Companion pieces: Google tells me that Chloë Sevigny is starring a film version, out on May 2nd. There’s a “sneak preview” at the Alliance Française on Thursday, April 24th that I’m considering booking but I kind of hate that it’s in English (it’s a quintessentially French story, can we not handle subtitles and cast French actors or do what they did with The Leopard?! I really dislike English film adaptions of foreign books).
Companion PIECE: Since we’ve all outgrown the idea that a Gitane or Gauloise is worth it, a Breton stripe is a safer step in the Gallic direction. I’ve actually been eyeing this La Ligne number for a week or so now (I have a navy short-sleeved version, sadly no longer available, and I wear it constantly).
Let’s fast-forward to the present, shall we?
Here’s the thing about summer: when I look out my window on a gray April day, what I’m envisioning are carefree summer days spent on the European beaches, followed dinners with friends on a terrace overlooking a wine-dark sea2 as a warm breeze wafts, and I sip a gin & tonic in my somehow-unstained white cotton sundress.
While I do always find snatches of that vibe somewhere within the confines of June, July, and August, expectation and reality are never eternally aligned. In fact, a lot of summer is tense and anxiety-inducing, (I should be outside/I’m tired/I should be socializing more/I’m spending so much money/I’m tired from socializing too much…pick your poison).
Even the most perfect summer is peppered with those uneasy moments: the traffic-gridlocked Sunday drive home from a perfect beach weekend; the day where warmth tips into unbearable heat; the list goes on.
The following three books capture that side of summer. Like I said, I’m an optimist, but I have my limits.
Happy Hour
(Buy it here)
When 21-year-old Isa moves from London to New York to spend a summer with a friend named Gala, her job prospects are limited. She’s Canadian and doesn’t have work papers, so she defaults instead to selling the clothing she’s brought in the Canal Street market square, reselling books at The Strand (we’ve all been there), and modeling for life drawing classes. Together, Isa and Gala make their way into rarefied artistic circles off the strength of their charm and their eye for choosing tasteful, durable going-out clothes, and Isa documents it all in a diary, which is how the story is told.
It’s a vibrant story about two young girls constantly but confidently fighting the myriad ways in which they’re underestimated. Laugh-out-loud funny at times, messy and melancholy at others, Happy Hour captures the dangerously promising concept of a young, free, summer in the city.
Companion piece: The New York Times compared it to The Dud Avocado. I’d compare it to the ‘Hot Child in the City’ episode of Sex & the City, or Hermione Hoby’s Neon in Daylight (A
recommendation - more on those here).Companion PIECE: This Siedres mini dress.
The Group
(You can get it here; I got mine here. Both will take at least a week. If you’re in the city and ask me first, you can have my copy—but I will say, I disliked the cover so strongly that I removed it).
I came across The Group via
’ newsletter, Books and Bits last summer. I breezed into three different bookstores (actually, I breezed into the first one, and charged into the next two) in search of my own copy before I realized it was I was going to need to do some international sourcing. The book was published by Ithaka Press in the UK, and, though the rights have been acquired for US publication (according to Google’s infallible3 AI overview), you cannot find it here. Lucky for me: it’s available on my favorite website, Blackwell’s, which ships UK books to the US.This book is tailor made for fans of Alex Michaelides’ The Maidens; it’s not your run-of-the-mill airport thriller, but it’s not prestige contemporary fiction, either.
Swedish art student Hanna is spending her summer in Madrid, working in the Prado’s archives. She’s thrilled to have left her life in Sweden behind, particularly a mysterious figure named Vera. When she spots a gorgeous group of friends speaking Swedish in the Plaza Mayor, she makes it her mission to become the fourth member of their circle.
Once she successfully infiltrates, she spends the summer with them: drinking tinto de verano and eating manchego in Spanish plazas, attending glitzy museum galas, and spending idyllic weeks in the Costa del Sol. But as Hanna edges ever closer to the inner circle, her fixation with “the group” threatens to spiral out of control.
As I’m sure Eklund intended, I found this book difficult to read at times because of Hanna’s increasingly egregious attempts to fit in. With that said, while Hanna may have taken it to a logical extreme, the book is a look at the lengths we all occasionally take to “fit in”—and the price that comes with that.
Thriller-y plot aside, the book is peppered with artistic references (if you like Francisco Goya, you’ll enjoy the frequent artistic references to his work), and positively Pavlovian descriptions of food. In fact, I’m not ashamed to admit that one night last week while I was reading this, I went to the market near our apartment and bought olives, manchego, anchovies, a baguette, and quince paste, and had that for dinner. It was the closest I’ve been to Spanish summer in a while.
Companion pieces: the dinner mentioned above, and perhaps a more positive tale of museum life: my mother-in-law just gave me this and I can’t wait to read it. If you’re feeling flush, educate yourself on the Prado’s Masterpieces with this book. Cheaper than a ticket to Madrid! (More reasonable price here, though not sure if it’s an exact match).
Companion PIECE: In homage to a scene wherein Hanna acquires an inordinate amount of money via illegal means to fund a beach vacation, this ERES one-piece.
The Guest
(Buy it for $5 here)
Here’s what I wrote about The Guest behind the paywall in my January 2025 Books & Looks newsletter (upgrade below😈):
In 2023, when The Guest came out, I thought it sounded good - but then almost every oneI know who read it told me it…wasn’t. I never purchased it, but a few months ago, my lovely mother-in-law loaned me her copy (TY Julie!) Flying through Big Fan made me realize that a dense non-fiction book was not what I needed to push through this long and merciless month; I wanted another page-turner. And so: I picked up The Guest.
It’s a taut, tense read about the final days of summer in the Hamptons, a clear-eyed observation of a rarefied world from an outsider’s perspective. It’s stressful to watch our protagonist, Alex, an unreliable narrator who makes consistently bad decisions, edge her way into the world and find herself shoved out in an instant, only to repeat the cycle, but it’s an engaging exploration of class, belonging, and the performance of womanhood. I’m surprised people didn’t like it! If you read it and hated…let me know why.
April 2025 me is back to add: To me, The Guest is an extreme example of that sense of unease that permeates summer, particularly as it’s coming to an end. I loved it for that reason, for the lack of tidy ending, and for Cline’s severe, Didionesque prose.
It’s the type of book that has me appreciating spring a little bit more…
Companion pieces: Animal by Lisa Taddeo, My Year of Rest & Relaxation by Ottessa Mosfegh
Companion PIECE: Crown Affair hair oil. Alex uses hair oil to keep her hair tame as the rest of her life falls apart.
What’s your favorite summer book?!
I know the video quality sucks but if you’ve ever seen better opening credits, SEND THEM TO ME because I’ll need proof.
I haven’t read The Odyssey in full, I CANNOT LIE, but I will say Circe is another fantastic summer read. I read it in Greece, which was heavenly.
sarcasm<3
Yep that winter snow a few days ago in the Hudson valley was criminal. Thanks for this list it’s reminding me of good things ahead!
ahhhh! this issue was a nice escape read for me as I stare out at the snow in the Catskills. Thanks for transporting me...