2022 in books: #1, Beach Read by Emily Henry
Hello! As the year comes to an end and everyone’s talking about the best books they read, I thought you know what’s missing? Yet ANOTHER piece along the exact same lines. So here I am.
A little bit of background: since the 6th grade (14 years ago!) I have had a personal mission I call “The Million Page Project.” This has taken the shape of paper logs, excel sheets, blogs, websites and most recently — an increasingly active twitter handle that talks sporadically about books and incessantly about all my other random thoughts.
The goal is to read a million pages before I die. Why? Because my 6th grade teacher set a challenge to the school to collectively read a million pages in a year and I — knowing nothing about scale — was like hmm, I could probably do that alone?
The number I’ve gotten to so far is 163,480 pages or 454 books (as of Dec 22) for anyone who’s wondering. But to be more honest, it’s not about the number — it’s just a way for me to do something I love and catalogue it. As I read, I try to review the books in my own sprawling way to capture how it made me feel, and that’s what I’ll be sharing here. It’ll have spoilers, no coherent summary of plot and often the character names will be missing. But what it will have is a whole lot of heart!
So here’s my first one for my 2022 wrap up: Beach Read, by Emily Henry which I read in January of this year.
What a book. I picked this because I thought that like the last few books I’d read, it would be a rom-com/chick lit that makes your soul hum. The name? The premise? It all seemed to add up. But that wasn’t this book at all! In fact that assumption you started with, that’s exactly the springboard the book leapt off from.
The whole book wrestled with that idea of chick lit and its place in the larger, messier world we live in. The premise, which seemed so perfectly ‘enemies to lovers’ went in so many unexpected directions — I’m not talking about mishaps and plot twists, but the stuff of great books — details.
It’s the details, like Gus says in the book, that make or break a story, regardless of what genre it is. And the details in this book — the things they say, the way they say them, the things that interest them. It felt so grounded in what real people would do and yet original, new. Specific enough to be real.
Reminds me of the Mary Oliver quote — “One tree is like another tree, but not too much. One tulip is like the next tulip, but not altogether. More or less like people — a general outline, then the stunning individual strokes.”
But wait, I have to talk about Gus. I have, needless to say, read a lot of fictional men. Given the context of this list I think it’s safe to say I have maybe read too many fictional men? And yet — Gus is my favourite (I know I’m going to say this again/ have said it already! I don’t care! I contain multitudes!). Gus is so wonderful, I feel like he’s exactly who I’d want to fall in love with. I love all his little things — how he’s always leaning on things. How his shirts are all wrinkled. How he’s set up to be grim and dark and all that stuff and yeah he is, but unlike most of the enemy-lover tropes he’s like, a pleasant person to talk to. He doesn’t go from serial killer to sex god to charmer extraordinaire. He’s like this normal awkward dude who’s had a hard life. And is a little cynical. But when he (spoiler) says the tropey thing that ALWAYS makes my heart sing — It’s you, it’s always been you — I actually believe it! He seems like someone that would borrow your pen everyday and think that’s an adequate expression/path to expressing that he likes you. I know guys who are exactly like that, would go for that SAME move — they’re the guys I’ve fallen head over heels in love with in my life. I love that his introduction is with “Everybody hurts” — it’s so funny.
When she’s reading his book and calls it beautiful and sad but also really funny sometimes and extremely odd a lot of times? Damn. That’s exactly the kind of book I’d like to read. The mind that wrote that? The mind I’d be hopelessly in love with. I love people who are funny but especially those that are also so completely odd. Like sometimes you look at them and you’re just so grateful this person exists because what are the chances? Which reminds me — the fact that he can’t stand puking — like he’s actually SCARED of it? Amazing. Such an endearing and specific thing that makes him so real.
Damn. Am I too old to be falling in love with fictional men? I know I am. But really — GUS. Augustus Everett — such a total romance name with all those syllables. I honestly don’t even care that she says he’s beautiful. I mean, obviously I care that he has a crooked mouth and a dimple and his hair is wavy with a little bit of grey and it’s always messed up and his hands are rough because I am afterall a human being. But what I mean is that even without that physical description I’d love him.
I remember once laughing because I liked this guy and I realised one day, literally half a year in, that he had ridiculously long eyelashes. And these beautiful brown eyes. And was so tall and solid. And it was so funny because when I was in 6th grade and writing a list of what I thought I wanted in the love of my life, I’d written those exact things — but it wasn’t until I was already in too deep that I noticed consciously he even had those things specifically. The things I fell for were completely different, the fact that he fit my long ago description seemed like a complete accident. Wonderful and yet besides the point.
What made Gus shine for me was their conversation — it was banter in the way that every good romance needs good banter, but it also wasn’t? It wasn’t just saying things to say things, to be funny or mean. It felt like a real conversation. Like the best books I’ve read, the conversation felt alive. Like how people actually talk. Somewhere between Normal People and Gilmore Girls.
Of course the real reason I fell for Gus was because of January (the name choice didn’t do much for me — didn’t detract, didn’t add), because I really loved her as a main character. I actually bought into her life and her way of being. I liked the way she loved people. I feel like I was actually invested in the pain she was going through, her complicated relationship to her dead father’s wrongdoings. Of loving someone as you grieve them, as you miss them. As you hold on to them. Feeling like you can’t fight with the person you love even though what they did was wrong. Feeling like she can’t talk to her mother, a survivor of the same thing but strangely, not feeling they’re on the same team. And I liked her lightness too — you could actually see it — the thing that makes Gus call her this ‘bright fucking light.’ The fact that she does that writing with brackets in brackets thing? (I do this! (but she did it in PRINT)) That’s how I think!
Which brings me to what I know is an absurd and banal thing to say but I feel like this author knows my brain. There were so many instances where I was taken aback because the internal monologue sounded so familiar. I guess that’s one kind of “best writing” — feeling like the book was pulled right out of your own head. This book did something else too though — the whole cult thing? I never would’ve thought of that. Like life — familiar and unfamiliar in equal parts.
Also, I love the friendship with Shadi! There was no plot line, there was no final narrative device, it was literally just friendship. The cutest banter, the most wholesome love for each other. It never felt like it was any less than the romance in the book. I loved it. when Shadi says she’s never seen January fall in love? And January is like actually that’s not true — I fell in love with you? Damn. My heart. Made me want to call my friends and tell them that they’re my loves. Always.
I realise I am perhaps waxing poetic on this book because I finished it moments ago. Maybe because it’s January. Maybe because I read it exactly when I needed a really good, solid book. Maybe because of Gus? (I was born in August! I have always been partial to the name Augustus for romantic leads, or Leo. I can’t be held accountable for the narcissism.) Maybe because her dad — her perfect, imperfect dad — writes her letters every year? And I love the ‘writing letters periodically and giving them to the reader all at once’ trope! I don’t know. Most of it though is because the book actually is very good. I’m glad I didn’t read it literally at the beach, which I conceivably could have had I read it just a few weeks ago. I’m glad I did it in my bed while wrapped up in a blanket and then covertly after lunch in the office. But mostly, I’m glad I read it.
