Hi Darling Ones,
This morning my 23-year-old niece tweeted, “lol i’m not even trying to be happy today” and included what I believe was supposed to be a screenshot of her listening to Phoebe Bridgers’ “Emotional Motion Sickness.” And while I know our gene pool only overlaps the littlest bit, sometimes we are very much the same.
Only for me that was yesterday. I was so sad yesterday I couldn’t even type things. I laid around and read sad books and listened to Elliott Smith and mostly self-harmed in a non-physical way. Not gonna lie, I let that dude from the other day get to me and I paired him with that one dude from years ago who cancelled a coffee date because I wasn’t excited enough. You can do the math: Recent Random Dude + Other Random Dude = I am defective in ways that I’m too broken to figure out.
Again, all math does is hurt my feelings.
I also spent some time being angry with myself for allowing random dudes to make me feel bad things about myself. Yesterday was a good time.
However, one very excellent thing happened while I was deep down in it. I finished reading The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue by V.E. Schwab. I’m not sure if I can adequately communicate the epic wonderfulness of this book. There are not enough superlatives. Until yesterday I thought for sure Brit Bennett’s The Vanishing Half would be the best book I read in 2020. It’s now #2, which doesn’t seem fair. The Vanishing Half is straight up fire, but Addie LaRue is my heart and my bones and the blood that runs through my veins.
Reading Addie LaRue was like reading Beezus & Ramona when I was a kid. It was discovering the Wakefield twins and Owen Meany and Ice Nine and Pecola Breedlove and The Giant’s House and that one time I shotgunned Elena Ferrante’s Neapolitan Quartet in like a month.
It is the kind of book you want to crawl inside of and live for the rest of your life because not only do you see yourself in it you see a kind of life you want to experience.
It is a book so lovely and wonderful that I bought a copy before I had even finished the library book. It is a book that shattered me in the way only true beauty can. It deserves hype and hyberbole. It was so damn lovely that I have read the last twenty pages three times in the last two days.
Ugh. Just go read it so I have someone to make heart-eyes about it with. Please.
Now I’m gonna go listen to The Shins because I feel like being 2001 sad and not 2020 sad.