tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-73820332024-03-14T03:14:25.573+05:30Compulsive ConfessionsMeenakshi Reddy MadhavaneMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12716202062654957842noreply@blogger.comBlogger2179125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7382033.post-15121692008217826952023-12-27T17:50:00.001+05:302023-12-27T17:50:34.219+05:30The Internet Personified: The Best Books I Read In 2023<p>My beloved bookworms!</p>
<p>It is here! My annual “these are the best things I read all year.” I’d like to do a little ceremony around each one, because really, we’ve come so far together, but honestly, seeing as it is the 27th of December, right in the middle of <a href="https://www.theatlantic.com/family/archive/2021/12/christmas-new-years-dead-week-romjul/621098/">Dead Week</a> and you probably have all your reading material lined up already for the rest of your holidays, this newsletter <em>may</em> not excite you as much as it does me, but here we are together anyway for the last time this year so let’s have a good time together.</p>
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<p>Note: this newsletter is too long for Gmail so click on the title to read it in your browser.</p>
<p>Note two: I have linked to Amazon and yes, I used affiliate links but feel free to just use the Amazon page to see the Kindle preview as I do and then just buy the book from your local bookstore/borrow from the library.</p>
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<p>Before I begin, here’s a little reminder that your friendly local newsletter runs on your support! So <a href="https://www.buymeacoffee.com/mrmwrites">buy me a coffee</a>, add a tip to that tip jar and keep me in books for the next year.</p>
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<p>People are always asking me how I manage to read so much and so frequently. Alas, I have no one size fits all answer, but I think it comes down to three basic things:</p>
<ol>
<li>
<p>I count reading as part of writing so any time I spend reading, I tot up to actual novel writing. This is, in effect, my full-time job.</p>
</li>
<li>
<p>Luckily, reading is also my favourite activity, so I also don’t have to force myself to do it. Abandon my phone in one room while I read in another? Bliss. I also leave my phone on silent literally all the time which my friends know (and sort of hate?). Sorry if there was an emergency! I was reading!</p>
</li>
<li>
<p>Again, out of my control, but I read <em>really fast</em>. Not speed reading <em>technically</em>, like, I never learned how to do it, but I do manage to inhale a gripping book in about a day if I’m left to my own devices.</p>
</li>
</ol>
<p>And that’s it, really. No magic formula, just spending a large chunk of my free time doing it. I seem to have a lot more free time than most people, perhaps because I don’t do meetings or bother too much about basic domestic admin like, oh, I don’t know, cleaning my house every day. Besides writing (I’m working on a new novel as we speak!), I do a lot of other stuff as well: I’ve taken up exercise again, for instance. I have a healthy social life. I cook almost every day. I watch TV. And yet, with the right juggling, I still have hours on end to devote to reading. Maybe it’s a priority thing, reading has been important to me since I first started doing it. I’ll tell you one thing that has changed though: I am slowing down. There was a time when I could do <a href="https://scroll.in/article/859725/an-author-read-over-180-books-in-2017-and-picked-her-favourites-some-of-which-are-quite-old">200 books a year easily</a>, not counting re-reads. Now, though, I’m only at 117, a respectable figure but a slip from my usual standards. Never mind, 115 was an easy goal to reach even though I meandered all over the place and I think I’ll set the same number for next year.</p>
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<p>On to the books!</p>
<h4>A Trendy Book Actually Published This Year</h4>
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<figure><a class="image-link image2" target="_blank" href="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fa521606d-3aa0-45f1-8333-f555458a7c24_663x1000.jpeg" data-component-name="Image2ToDOM">
<div class="image2-inset"><picture><source type="image/webp" srcset="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_424,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fa521606d-3aa0-45f1-8333-f555458a7c24_663x1000.jpeg 424w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_848,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fa521606d-3aa0-45f1-8333-f555458a7c24_663x1000.jpeg 848w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1272,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fa521606d-3aa0-45f1-8333-f555458a7c24_663x1000.jpeg 1272w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fa521606d-3aa0-45f1-8333-f555458a7c24_663x1000.jpeg 1456w" sizes="100vw" /><img src="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fa521606d-3aa0-45f1-8333-f555458a7c24_663x1000.jpeg" width="127" height="191.55354449472097" data-attrs="{"src":"https://substack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com/public/images/a521606d-3aa0-45f1-8333-f555458a7c24_663x1000.jpeg","srcNoWatermark":null,"fullscreen":null,"imageSize":null,"height":1000,"width":663,"resizeWidth":127,"bytes":null,"alt":"Yellowface: A Reese's Book Club Pick : Kuang, R. F: Amazon.de: Books","title":null,"type":null,"href":null,"belowTheFold":true,"topImage":false,"internalRedirect":null}" class="sizing-normal" alt="Yellowface: A Reese's Book Club Pick : Kuang, R. F: Amazon.de: Books" title="Yellowface: A Reese's Book Club Pick : Kuang, R. F: Amazon.de: Books" srcset="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_424,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fa521606d-3aa0-45f1-8333-f555458a7c24_663x1000.jpeg 424w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_848,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fa521606d-3aa0-45f1-8333-f555458a7c24_663x1000.jpeg 848w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1272,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fa521606d-3aa0-45f1-8333-f555458a7c24_663x1000.jpeg 1272w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fa521606d-3aa0-45f1-8333-f555458a7c24_663x1000.jpeg 1456w" sizes="100vw" loading="lazy" /></picture></div>
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<p>Ok, I read a lot of “next big things” this year and most of them left me cold except for <em><a href="https://amzn.to/3GXdVSn">Yellowface</a></em> <a href="https://amzn.to/3GXdVSn">by RF Kuang</a>. It’s not the best book ever written or anything and the writing is a bit… tacky in some places, not super smooth, felt like it was filler or a last minute addition, but damn, it kept me hooked. A satirical look at the publishing industry? Oh my god. I liked it a lot—but hated the ending. So there’s that.</p>
<p><strong>The Book I’m Not Sure I Enjoyed But Still Think About From Time To Time</strong></p>
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<figure><a class="image-link image2" target="_blank" href="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F042274b6-19c9-4fd9-a561-449dcfb3aa73_327x500.jpeg" data-component-name="Image2ToDOM">
<div class="image2-inset"><picture><source type="image/webp" srcset="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_424,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F042274b6-19c9-4fd9-a561-449dcfb3aa73_327x500.jpeg 424w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_848,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F042274b6-19c9-4fd9-a561-449dcfb3aa73_327x500.jpeg 848w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1272,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F042274b6-19c9-4fd9-a561-449dcfb3aa73_327x500.jpeg 1272w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F042274b6-19c9-4fd9-a561-449dcfb3aa73_327x500.jpeg 1456w" sizes="100vw" /><img src="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F042274b6-19c9-4fd9-a561-449dcfb3aa73_327x500.jpeg" width="147" height="224.77064220183487" data-attrs="{"src":"https://substack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com/public/images/042274b6-19c9-4fd9-a561-449dcfb3aa73_327x500.jpeg","srcNoWatermark":null,"fullscreen":null,"imageSize":null,"height":500,"width":327,"resizeWidth":147,"bytes":null,"alt":"Berlin: A Novel (English Edition) eBook : Setton, Bea: Amazon.de: Kindle-Shop","title":null,"type":null,"href":null,"belowTheFold":true,"topImage":false,"internalRedirect":null}" class="sizing-normal" alt="Berlin: A Novel (English Edition) eBook : Setton, Bea: Amazon.de: Kindle-Shop" title="Berlin: A Novel (English Edition) eBook : Setton, Bea: Amazon.de: Kindle-Shop" srcset="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_424,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F042274b6-19c9-4fd9-a561-449dcfb3aa73_327x500.jpeg 424w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_848,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F042274b6-19c9-4fd9-a561-449dcfb3aa73_327x500.jpeg 848w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1272,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F042274b6-19c9-4fd9-a561-449dcfb3aa73_327x500.jpeg 1272w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F042274b6-19c9-4fd9-a561-449dcfb3aa73_327x500.jpeg 1456w" sizes="100vw" loading="lazy" /></picture></div>
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<p>Obviously I had to borrow this from my local library because of the title, but this was such an <a href="https://amzn.to/41z90AH">odd little book</a>. Like a fever dream of the city. The narrator almost certainly has an eating disorder, but this is never spelt out. She goes to language school and she languishes in her small sublet. She meets people and is extremely awkward with them. She is frantically, hectically lonely, in a way that almost seems active. It was just weird. I think I actually loved it in retrospect.</p>
<p><strong>The Book That Introduced Me To A Long Dead Author Who I’m Now Going Out Of My Way To Hunt Out</strong></p>
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<figure><a class="image-link image2" target="_blank" href="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fcc79e6e8-4c0b-4d49-bd4a-1481f8c970d7_318x500.jpeg" data-component-name="Image2ToDOM">
<div class="image2-inset"><picture><source type="image/webp" srcset="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_424,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fcc79e6e8-4c0b-4d49-bd4a-1481f8c970d7_318x500.jpeg 424w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_848,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fcc79e6e8-4c0b-4d49-bd4a-1481f8c970d7_318x500.jpeg 848w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1272,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fcc79e6e8-4c0b-4d49-bd4a-1481f8c970d7_318x500.jpeg 1272w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fcc79e6e8-4c0b-4d49-bd4a-1481f8c970d7_318x500.jpeg 1456w" sizes="100vw" /><img src="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fcc79e6e8-4c0b-4d49-bd4a-1481f8c970d7_318x500.jpeg" width="132" height="207.54716981132074" data-attrs="{"src":"https://substack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com/public/images/cc79e6e8-4c0b-4d49-bd4a-1481f8c970d7_318x500.jpeg","srcNoWatermark":null,"fullscreen":null,"imageSize":null,"height":500,"width":318,"resizeWidth":132,"bytes":null,"alt":"Excellent Women: 'I'm a huge fan of Barbara Pym' Richard Osman (Virago Modern Classics Book 311) (English Edition) eBook : Pym, Barbara, McCall Smith, Alexander: Amazon.de: Kindle-Shop","title":null,"type":null,"href":null,"belowTheFold":true,"topImage":false,"internalRedirect":null}" class="sizing-normal" alt="Excellent Women: 'I'm a huge fan of Barbara Pym' Richard Osman (Virago Modern Classics Book 311) (English Edition) eBook : Pym, Barbara, McCall Smith, Alexander: Amazon.de: Kindle-Shop" title="Excellent Women: 'I'm a huge fan of Barbara Pym' Richard Osman (Virago Modern Classics Book 311) (English Edition) eBook : Pym, Barbara, McCall Smith, Alexander: Amazon.de: Kindle-Shop" srcset="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_424,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fcc79e6e8-4c0b-4d49-bd4a-1481f8c970d7_318x500.jpeg 424w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_848,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fcc79e6e8-4c0b-4d49-bd4a-1481f8c970d7_318x500.jpeg 848w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1272,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fcc79e6e8-4c0b-4d49-bd4a-1481f8c970d7_318x500.jpeg 1272w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fcc79e6e8-4c0b-4d49-bd4a-1481f8c970d7_318x500.jpeg 1456w" sizes="100vw" loading="lazy" /></picture></div>
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<p>The one Barbara Pym fact I keep trotting out to people is how she was really popular and then she wasn’t and her publishers dropped her so she had a nervous breakdown and stopped writing and I AM THIS CLOSE TO BECOMING BARBARA PYM. (Seriously. Please keep me relevant.) <em><a href="https://amzn.to/47m2v5C">Excellent Women</a></em> is my favourite kind of British story: an older woman, a “spinster,” and how she lives this ordered little life and then suddenly new people break into it and she does things quite out of the ordinary. Perfection. And so funny.</p>
<p><strong>An Old Book I Read In A New Way Part I</strong></p>
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<div class="image2-inset"><picture><source type="image/webp" srcset="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_424,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fedefda4c-d323-42b8-9cc9-b7072545268e_662x1000.jpeg 424w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_848,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fedefda4c-d323-42b8-9cc9-b7072545268e_662x1000.jpeg 848w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1272,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fedefda4c-d323-42b8-9cc9-b7072545268e_662x1000.jpeg 1272w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fedefda4c-d323-42b8-9cc9-b7072545268e_662x1000.jpeg 1456w" sizes="100vw" /><img src="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fedefda4c-d323-42b8-9cc9-b7072545268e_662x1000.jpeg" width="176" height="265.8610271903323" data-attrs="{"src":"https://substack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com/public/images/edefda4c-d323-42b8-9cc9-b7072545268e_662x1000.jpeg","srcNoWatermark":null,"fullscreen":null,"imageSize":null,"height":1000,"width":662,"resizeWidth":176,"bytes":null,"alt":"Demon Copperhead: A Pulitzer Prize... by Kingsolver, Barbara","title":null,"type":null,"href":null,"belowTheFold":true,"topImage":false,"internalRedirect":null}" class="sizing-normal" alt="Demon Copperhead: A Pulitzer Prize... by Kingsolver, Barbara" title="Demon Copperhead: A Pulitzer Prize... by Kingsolver, Barbara" srcset="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_424,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fedefda4c-d323-42b8-9cc9-b7072545268e_662x1000.jpeg 424w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_848,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fedefda4c-d323-42b8-9cc9-b7072545268e_662x1000.jpeg 848w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1272,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fedefda4c-d323-42b8-9cc9-b7072545268e_662x1000.jpeg 1272w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fedefda4c-d323-42b8-9cc9-b7072545268e_662x1000.jpeg 1456w" sizes="100vw" loading="lazy" /></picture>
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<p>Old time readers of this newsletter will know I came to <a href="https://mrm.substack.com/p/the-internet-personified-the-doomed">David Copperfield</a> late but was a swift and ready convert. To read then <em><a href="https://amzn.to/41y40wd">Demon Copperhead</a></em> which takes that story and places it among poor white people in rural Appalachia where the opioid crisis looms, my god, what genius. I didn’t expect it to work but it did in a beautiful way and it was such a <em>sad</em> book which shouldn’t surprise me because look at the source material, but still. Lovely.</p>
<p><strong>An Old Book I Read In A New Way Part II</strong></p>
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<figure><a class="image-link is-viewable-img image2" target="_blank" href="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F1665f329-1288-471c-88f1-8d2c87bac48f_407x650.jpeg" data-component-name="Image2ToDOM">
<div class="image2-inset"><picture><source type="image/webp" srcset="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_424,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F1665f329-1288-471c-88f1-8d2c87bac48f_407x650.jpeg 424w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_848,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F1665f329-1288-471c-88f1-8d2c87bac48f_407x650.jpeg 848w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1272,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F1665f329-1288-471c-88f1-8d2c87bac48f_407x650.jpeg 1272w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F1665f329-1288-471c-88f1-8d2c87bac48f_407x650.jpeg 1456w" sizes="100vw" /><img src="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F1665f329-1288-471c-88f1-8d2c87bac48f_407x650.jpeg" width="223" height="356.14250614250614" data-attrs="{"src":"https://substack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com/public/images/1665f329-1288-471c-88f1-8d2c87bac48f_407x650.jpeg","srcNoWatermark":null,"fullscreen":null,"imageSize":null,"height":650,"width":407,"resizeWidth":223,"bytes":null,"alt":"The Memoirs of Valmiki Rao by Lindsay Pereira | Goodreads","title":null,"type":null,"href":null,"belowTheFold":true,"topImage":false,"internalRedirect":null}" class="sizing-normal" alt="The Memoirs of Valmiki Rao by Lindsay Pereira | Goodreads" title="The Memoirs of Valmiki Rao by Lindsay Pereira | Goodreads" srcset="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_424,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F1665f329-1288-471c-88f1-8d2c87bac48f_407x650.jpeg 424w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_848,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F1665f329-1288-471c-88f1-8d2c87bac48f_407x650.jpeg 848w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1272,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F1665f329-1288-471c-88f1-8d2c87bac48f_407x650.jpeg 1272w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F1665f329-1288-471c-88f1-8d2c87bac48f_407x650.jpeg 1456w" sizes="100vw" loading="lazy" /></picture>
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<p>Speaking of sad, this retelling of the Ramayana ends with Sita’s walking through the fire to prove her “purity” (yuck) after Ravana abducts her and it is heartrending. Set in a Mumbai chawl, the characters are all locals in two small buildings abutting each other. Like <em>Demon Copperhead</em>, <em><a href="https://amzn.to/47fEPQj">The Memoirs of Valmiki Rao</a></em> made me wistful, most of all, for missed potential.</p>
<p><strong>An Old Book I Read In A New Way Part III</strong></p>
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<figure><a class="image-link is-viewable-img image2" target="_blank" href="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Ff3790702-ab44-481f-aecc-b3bb69eb5cf8_671x1000.jpeg" data-component-name="Image2ToDOM">
<div class="image2-inset"><picture><source type="image/webp" srcset="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_424,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Ff3790702-ab44-481f-aecc-b3bb69eb5cf8_671x1000.jpeg 424w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_848,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Ff3790702-ab44-481f-aecc-b3bb69eb5cf8_671x1000.jpeg 848w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1272,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Ff3790702-ab44-481f-aecc-b3bb69eb5cf8_671x1000.jpeg 1272w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Ff3790702-ab44-481f-aecc-b3bb69eb5cf8_671x1000.jpeg 1456w" sizes="100vw" /><img src="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Ff3790702-ab44-481f-aecc-b3bb69eb5cf8_671x1000.jpeg" width="209" height="311.4754098360656" data-attrs="{"src":"https://substack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com/public/images/f3790702-ab44-481f-aecc-b3bb69eb5cf8_671x1000.jpeg","srcNoWatermark":null,"fullscreen":null,"imageSize":null,"height":1000,"width":671,"resizeWidth":209,"bytes":null,"alt":"Anne Frank's Diary: The Graphic Adaptation : Frank, Anne, Polonsky, David, Folman, Ari: Amazon.de: Books","title":null,"type":null,"href":null,"belowTheFold":true,"topImage":false,"internalRedirect":null}" class="sizing-normal" alt="Anne Frank's Diary: The Graphic Adaptation : Frank, Anne, Polonsky, David, Folman, Ari: Amazon.de: Books" title="Anne Frank's Diary: The Graphic Adaptation : Frank, Anne, Polonsky, David, Folman, Ari: Amazon.de: Books" srcset="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_424,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Ff3790702-ab44-481f-aecc-b3bb69eb5cf8_671x1000.jpeg 424w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_848,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Ff3790702-ab44-481f-aecc-b3bb69eb5cf8_671x1000.jpeg 848w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1272,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Ff3790702-ab44-481f-aecc-b3bb69eb5cf8_671x1000.jpeg 1272w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Ff3790702-ab44-481f-aecc-b3bb69eb5cf8_671x1000.jpeg 1456w" sizes="100vw" loading="lazy" /></picture>
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<p>Yes, <em>that</em> Anne Frank’s diary. I know, I’m as surprised as you are. I read the original years ago, when I was a teenager myself and yes, I was moved by her story then and eventually, forgot the details until this popped up—another library find—and I found myself curious. A beautiful intricate adaptation, Anne comes to life with the drawings and some bits of her original diary which were censored by her father, her curiosity about her budding sexuality for instance, are brought to life in large full colour panels. The original diary is great, don’t get me wrong, but <a href="https://amzn.to/47djo1Z">this graphic novel</a> just elevates it. I promise.</p>
<p><strong>A Trendy Book From Years Gone By That I Only Just Picked Up</strong></p>
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<figure><a class="image-link is-viewable-img image2" target="_blank" href="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F31210b46-3e68-4dab-bf52-c4edd8de2849_1320x2000.jpeg" data-component-name="Image2ToDOM">
<div class="image2-inset"><picture><source type="image/webp" srcset="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_424,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F31210b46-3e68-4dab-bf52-c4edd8de2849_1320x2000.jpeg 424w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_848,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F31210b46-3e68-4dab-bf52-c4edd8de2849_1320x2000.jpeg 848w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1272,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F31210b46-3e68-4dab-bf52-c4edd8de2849_1320x2000.jpeg 1272w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F31210b46-3e68-4dab-bf52-c4edd8de2849_1320x2000.jpeg 1456w" sizes="100vw" /><img src="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F31210b46-3e68-4dab-bf52-c4edd8de2849_1320x2000.jpeg" width="194" height="293.93939393939394" data-attrs="{"src":"https://substack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com/public/images/31210b46-3e68-4dab-bf52-c4edd8de2849_1320x2000.jpeg","srcNoWatermark":null,"fullscreen":null,"imageSize":null,"height":2000,"width":1320,"resizeWidth":194,"bytes":null,"alt":"'A Visit from the Goon Squad' von 'Jennifer Egan' - 'Taschenbuch' - '978-1-78033-096-9'","title":null,"type":null,"href":null,"belowTheFold":true,"topImage":false,"internalRedirect":null}" class="sizing-normal" alt="'A Visit from the Goon Squad' von 'Jennifer Egan' - 'Taschenbuch' - '978-1-78033-096-9'" title="'A Visit from the Goon Squad' von 'Jennifer Egan' - 'Taschenbuch' - '978-1-78033-096-9'" srcset="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_424,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F31210b46-3e68-4dab-bf52-c4edd8de2849_1320x2000.jpeg 424w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_848,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F31210b46-3e68-4dab-bf52-c4edd8de2849_1320x2000.jpeg 848w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1272,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F31210b46-3e68-4dab-bf52-c4edd8de2849_1320x2000.jpeg 1272w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F31210b46-3e68-4dab-bf52-c4edd8de2849_1320x2000.jpeg 1456w" sizes="100vw" loading="lazy" /></picture>
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<p>And then I read the follow up <em>Candy House</em> which wasn’t half as nice, in fact, I picked it up <em>again</em> earlier this month forgetting if I had already read it. <em><a href="https://amzn.to/3vcvFGX">A Visit From The Goon Squad</a></em> is interconnected short stories of a revolving cast of characters, mostly in the music industry. One stand out story is told entirely through a powerpoint presentation. Another is the story of a young boy on holiday with his father and his father’s new girlfriend. One is told like a tabloid article and harks back to a reference in a previous chapter. It’s so innovative and fun and yes, it was the It Book of its year but it’s not at all dated. Slim enough to fit in your purse as well, I read it on several underground journeys.</p>
<p><strong>The Best Crime Novel Part I</strong></p>
<div class="captioned-image-container">
<figure><a class="image-link image2" target="_blank" href="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F6d0804f5-e133-4b37-bc06-7a711ba30f34_663x1000.jpeg" data-component-name="Image2ToDOM">
<div class="image2-inset"><picture><source type="image/webp" srcset="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_424,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F6d0804f5-e133-4b37-bc06-7a711ba30f34_663x1000.jpeg 424w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_848,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F6d0804f5-e133-4b37-bc06-7a711ba30f34_663x1000.jpeg 848w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1272,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F6d0804f5-e133-4b37-bc06-7a711ba30f34_663x1000.jpeg 1272w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F6d0804f5-e133-4b37-bc06-7a711ba30f34_663x1000.jpeg 1456w" sizes="100vw" /><img src="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F6d0804f5-e133-4b37-bc06-7a711ba30f34_663x1000.jpeg" width="155" height="233.78582202111613" data-attrs="{"src":"https://substack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com/public/images/6d0804f5-e133-4b37-bc06-7a711ba30f34_663x1000.jpeg","srcNoWatermark":null,"fullscreen":null,"imageSize":null,"height":1000,"width":663,"resizeWidth":155,"bytes":null,"alt":"Small Mercies: A Novel : Lehane, Dennis: Amazon.de: Books","title":null,"type":null,"href":null,"belowTheFold":true,"topImage":false,"internalRedirect":null}" class="sizing-normal" alt="Small Mercies: A Novel : Lehane, Dennis: Amazon.de: Books" title="Small Mercies: A Novel : Lehane, Dennis: Amazon.de: Books" srcset="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_424,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F6d0804f5-e133-4b37-bc06-7a711ba30f34_663x1000.jpeg 424w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_848,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F6d0804f5-e133-4b37-bc06-7a711ba30f34_663x1000.jpeg 848w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1272,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F6d0804f5-e133-4b37-bc06-7a711ba30f34_663x1000.jpeg 1272w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F6d0804f5-e133-4b37-bc06-7a711ba30f34_663x1000.jpeg 1456w" sizes="100vw" loading="lazy" /></picture></div>
</a></figure>
</div>
<p>Set in 1974, when Boston had a heatwave and there was trouble over busing black children to white schools, this book is not so much a police procedural as it is a meditation on what it’s like to be poor and without options. <em><a href="https://amzn.to/3RB5P6N">Small Mercies</a></em> unfolds like an origami flower, just as delicate, just as intricate.</p>
<p><strong>The Best Crime Novel Part II</strong></p>
<div class="captioned-image-container">
<figure><a class="image-link image2" target="_blank" href="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fb7ff9f47-c6d2-4060-b6f7-ed02093c6b2b_662x1000.jpeg" data-component-name="Image2ToDOM">
<div class="image2-inset"><picture><source type="image/webp" srcset="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_424,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fb7ff9f47-c6d2-4060-b6f7-ed02093c6b2b_662x1000.jpeg 424w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_848,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fb7ff9f47-c6d2-4060-b6f7-ed02093c6b2b_662x1000.jpeg 848w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1272,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fb7ff9f47-c6d2-4060-b6f7-ed02093c6b2b_662x1000.jpeg 1272w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fb7ff9f47-c6d2-4060-b6f7-ed02093c6b2b_662x1000.jpeg 1456w" sizes="100vw" /><img src="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fb7ff9f47-c6d2-4060-b6f7-ed02093c6b2b_662x1000.jpeg" width="154" height="232.62839879154077" data-attrs="{"src":"https://substack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com/public/images/b7ff9f47-c6d2-4060-b6f7-ed02093c6b2b_662x1000.jpeg","srcNoWatermark":null,"fullscreen":null,"imageSize":null,"height":1000,"width":662,"resizeWidth":154,"bytes":null,"alt":"I Have Some Questions for You: A Novel","title":null,"type":null,"href":null,"belowTheFold":true,"topImage":false,"internalRedirect":null}" class="sizing-normal" alt="I Have Some Questions for You: A Novel" title="I Have Some Questions for You: A Novel" srcset="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_424,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fb7ff9f47-c6d2-4060-b6f7-ed02093c6b2b_662x1000.jpeg 424w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_848,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fb7ff9f47-c6d2-4060-b6f7-ed02093c6b2b_662x1000.jpeg 848w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1272,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fb7ff9f47-c6d2-4060-b6f7-ed02093c6b2b_662x1000.jpeg 1272w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fb7ff9f47-c6d2-4060-b6f7-ed02093c6b2b_662x1000.jpeg 1456w" sizes="100vw" loading="lazy" /></picture></div>
</a></figure>
</div>
<p><em>Prep</em> meets podcast, <em>A Secret History</em> meets <em>A Secret Place</em>. This is <em>dark</em> academia, baby, but full of twenty first century references. A teacher goes back to the school she attended as a teenager, takes a podcast class and the students want to investigate what happened to a girl who disappeared years ago. Twist: the girl was the teacher’s roommate. I’d never read Rebecca Makkai before but <a href="https://amzn.to/3v7JyWE">this</a> made me run for her backlist immediately.</p>
<p><strong>The Best Crime Novel Part III</strong></p>
<div class="captioned-image-container">
<figure><a class="image-link image2" target="_blank" href="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fe63008fc-b171-4aa5-9b18-68e7c9869851_876x1396.jpeg" data-component-name="Image2ToDOM">
<div class="image2-inset"><picture><source type="image/webp" srcset="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_424,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fe63008fc-b171-4aa5-9b18-68e7c9869851_876x1396.jpeg 424w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_848,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fe63008fc-b171-4aa5-9b18-68e7c9869851_876x1396.jpeg 848w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1272,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fe63008fc-b171-4aa5-9b18-68e7c9869851_876x1396.jpeg 1272w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fe63008fc-b171-4aa5-9b18-68e7c9869851_876x1396.jpeg 1456w" sizes="100vw" /><img src="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fe63008fc-b171-4aa5-9b18-68e7c9869851_876x1396.jpeg" width="144" height="229.4794520547945" data-attrs="{"src":"https://substack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com/public/images/e63008fc-b171-4aa5-9b18-68e7c9869851_876x1396.jpeg","srcNoWatermark":null,"fullscreen":null,"imageSize":null,"height":1396,"width":876,"resizeWidth":144,"bytes":null,"alt":"Penance von Eliza Clark (Paperback) | Schönstatt-Verlag","title":null,"type":null,"href":null,"belowTheFold":true,"topImage":false,"internalRedirect":null}" class="sizing-normal" alt="Penance von Eliza Clark (Paperback) | Schönstatt-Verlag" title="Penance von Eliza Clark (Paperback) | Schönstatt-Verlag" srcset="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_424,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fe63008fc-b171-4aa5-9b18-68e7c9869851_876x1396.jpeg 424w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_848,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fe63008fc-b171-4aa5-9b18-68e7c9869851_876x1396.jpeg 848w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1272,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fe63008fc-b171-4aa5-9b18-68e7c9869851_876x1396.jpeg 1272w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fe63008fc-b171-4aa5-9b18-68e7c9869851_876x1396.jpeg 1456w" sizes="100vw" loading="lazy" /></picture></div>
</a></figure>
</div>
<p>All the crime novels I’ve picked this year are not exactly Crime Novels. There’s no hardboiled detective talking to suspects and figuring things out. Like <em>I Have Some Questions For You</em> and its true crime podcast, <a href="https://amzn.to/3vltQas"></a><em><a href="https://amzn.to/3vltQas">Penance</a></em> uses a slightly different format to talk about the crime in question: the murder of a teenager by her peers, as interviewed by a true crime writer. There’s Tumblr, there’s bullying, there’s a small town, there are groups of girls who are terrifying. All my favourite things! You already know who did the killing in the beginning, so it’s more a whydunnit than a who, which it turns out, is my favourite kind of crime.</p>
<p><strong>The Best Crime Novel Part IV</strong></p>
<div class="captioned-image-container">
<figure><a class="image-link image2" target="_blank" href="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fdf6c3067-c54b-4fe1-aa73-9add9936040a_659x1000.jpeg" data-component-name="Image2ToDOM">
<div class="image2-inset"><picture><source type="image/webp" srcset="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_424,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fdf6c3067-c54b-4fe1-aa73-9add9936040a_659x1000.jpeg 424w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_848,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fdf6c3067-c54b-4fe1-aa73-9add9936040a_659x1000.jpeg 848w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1272,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fdf6c3067-c54b-4fe1-aa73-9add9936040a_659x1000.jpeg 1272w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fdf6c3067-c54b-4fe1-aa73-9add9936040a_659x1000.jpeg 1456w" sizes="100vw" /><img src="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fdf6c3067-c54b-4fe1-aa73-9add9936040a_659x1000.jpeg" width="149" height="226.10015174506827" data-attrs="{"src":"https://substack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com/public/images/df6c3067-c54b-4fe1-aa73-9add9936040a_659x1000.jpeg","srcNoWatermark":null,"fullscreen":null,"imageSize":null,"height":1000,"width":659,"resizeWidth":149,"bytes":null,"alt":"Bright Young Women: A Novel : Knoll, Jessica: Amazon.de: Books","title":null,"type":null,"href":null,"belowTheFold":true,"topImage":false,"internalRedirect":null}" class="sizing-normal" alt="Bright Young Women: A Novel : Knoll, Jessica: Amazon.de: Books" title="Bright Young Women: A Novel : Knoll, Jessica: Amazon.de: Books" srcset="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_424,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fdf6c3067-c54b-4fe1-aa73-9add9936040a_659x1000.jpeg 424w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_848,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fdf6c3067-c54b-4fe1-aa73-9add9936040a_659x1000.jpeg 848w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1272,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fdf6c3067-c54b-4fe1-aa73-9add9936040a_659x1000.jpeg 1272w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fdf6c3067-c54b-4fe1-aa73-9add9936040a_659x1000.jpeg 1456w" sizes="100vw" loading="lazy" /></picture></div>
</a></figure>
</div>
<p>How about a Ted Bundy novel that puts the focus on the survivor as opposed to almost worshipping Bundy—an ordinary man who killed people? A fiercely feminist point of view, <em><a href="https://amzn.to/3RWCjK1">Bright Young Women</a></em> featured one of my favourite main characters of all time. Pamela Schumacher, our heroine, firmly takes the narrative away from the serial killer and talks about what he left in his stead, making his victims so human, so <em>real</em> that you want to remember <em>their</em> names not his.</p>
<p><strong>The Best “Light” Book</strong></p>
<div class="captioned-image-container">
<figure><a class="image-link image2" target="_blank" href="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Ffa05104d-e165-4d3f-b9c6-553e8647063e_676x1000.jpeg" data-component-name="Image2ToDOM">
<div class="image2-inset"><picture><source type="image/webp" srcset="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_424,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Ffa05104d-e165-4d3f-b9c6-553e8647063e_676x1000.jpeg 424w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_848,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Ffa05104d-e165-4d3f-b9c6-553e8647063e_676x1000.jpeg 848w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1272,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Ffa05104d-e165-4d3f-b9c6-553e8647063e_676x1000.jpeg 1272w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Ffa05104d-e165-4d3f-b9c6-553e8647063e_676x1000.jpeg 1456w" sizes="100vw" /><img src="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Ffa05104d-e165-4d3f-b9c6-553e8647063e_676x1000.jpeg" width="154" height="227.81065088757396" data-attrs="{"src":"https://substack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com/public/images/fa05104d-e165-4d3f-b9c6-553e8647063e_676x1000.jpeg","srcNoWatermark":null,"fullscreen":null,"imageSize":null,"height":1000,"width":676,"resizeWidth":154,"bytes":null,"alt":"Standard Deviation: A novel : Heiny, Katherine: Amazon.de: Books","title":null,"type":null,"href":null,"belowTheFold":true,"topImage":false,"internalRedirect":null}" class="sizing-normal" alt="Standard Deviation: A novel : Heiny, Katherine: Amazon.de: Books" title="Standard Deviation: A novel : Heiny, Katherine: Amazon.de: Books" srcset="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_424,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Ffa05104d-e165-4d3f-b9c6-553e8647063e_676x1000.jpeg 424w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_848,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Ffa05104d-e165-4d3f-b9c6-553e8647063e_676x1000.jpeg 848w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1272,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Ffa05104d-e165-4d3f-b9c6-553e8647063e_676x1000.jpeg 1272w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Ffa05104d-e165-4d3f-b9c6-553e8647063e_676x1000.jpeg 1456w" sizes="100vw" loading="lazy" /></picture></div>
</a></figure>
</div>
<p>Although would I call it light? It was funny, it was smart, it gave me a book hangover in the best/worst way: I didn’t want to read anything else. There’s a good but strange marriage, a boy on the autistic spectrum who makes a lot of origami and just a good story. A <em>comforting</em> story. Snuggle up with <a href="https://amzn.to/48ctf9O">this book</a> on cold winter nights, it’s warmer than a hot water bottle.</p>
<p><strong>The Best Really Long Novel About A Family</strong></p>
<div class="captioned-image-container">
<figure><a class="image-link is-viewable-img image2" target="_blank" href="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F359cbbca-2569-4681-a2fc-255f40d2b0b7_652x1000.jpeg" data-component-name="Image2ToDOM">
<div class="image2-inset"><picture><source type="image/webp" srcset="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_424,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F359cbbca-2569-4681-a2fc-255f40d2b0b7_652x1000.jpeg 424w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_848,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F359cbbca-2569-4681-a2fc-255f40d2b0b7_652x1000.jpeg 848w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1272,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F359cbbca-2569-4681-a2fc-255f40d2b0b7_652x1000.jpeg 1272w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F359cbbca-2569-4681-a2fc-255f40d2b0b7_652x1000.jpeg 1456w" sizes="100vw" /><img src="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F359cbbca-2569-4681-a2fc-255f40d2b0b7_652x1000.jpeg" width="178" height="273.00613496932516" data-attrs="{"src":"https://substack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com/public/images/359cbbca-2569-4681-a2fc-255f40d2b0b7_652x1000.jpeg","srcNoWatermark":null,"fullscreen":null,"imageSize":null,"height":1000,"width":652,"resizeWidth":178,"bytes":null,"alt":"The Bee Sting: A Novel : Murray, Paul: Amazon.de: Books","title":null,"type":null,"href":null,"belowTheFold":true,"topImage":false,"internalRedirect":null}" class="sizing-normal" alt="The Bee Sting: A Novel : Murray, Paul: Amazon.de: Books" title="The Bee Sting: A Novel : Murray, Paul: Amazon.de: Books" srcset="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_424,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F359cbbca-2569-4681-a2fc-255f40d2b0b7_652x1000.jpeg 424w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_848,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F359cbbca-2569-4681-a2fc-255f40d2b0b7_652x1000.jpeg 848w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1272,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F359cbbca-2569-4681-a2fc-255f40d2b0b7_652x1000.jpeg 1272w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F359cbbca-2569-4681-a2fc-255f40d2b0b7_652x1000.jpeg 1456w" sizes="100vw" loading="lazy" /></picture>
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<p>An Irish family breaks apart at the centre of this <a href="https://amzn.to/3RuZRnS">Booker-shortlisted novel</a>. Each chapter is told from the point of view of a different member: the teenage daughter getting in with the wrong crowd and going off to college, the young son who is making questionable friends on the internet, the father who is losing his business, the mother who is wondering how her life turned out this way. About one third into the book I was actually sitting up to take in their family secrets, when I had a few pages left, I was deeply in pain by what we do to the people we love.</p>
<p><strong>The Best Autofiction</strong></p>
<div class="captioned-image-container">
<figure><a class="image-link is-viewable-img image2" target="_blank" href="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F277c03f8-e598-4694-b172-770e0f99d188_652x1000.jpeg" data-component-name="Image2ToDOM">
<div class="image2-inset"><picture><source type="image/webp" srcset="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_424,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F277c03f8-e598-4694-b172-770e0f99d188_652x1000.jpeg 424w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_848,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F277c03f8-e598-4694-b172-770e0f99d188_652x1000.jpeg 848w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1272,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F277c03f8-e598-4694-b172-770e0f99d188_652x1000.jpeg 1272w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F277c03f8-e598-4694-b172-770e0f99d188_652x1000.jpeg 1456w" sizes="100vw" /><img src="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F277c03f8-e598-4694-b172-770e0f99d188_652x1000.jpeg" width="158" height="242.33128834355827" data-attrs="{"src":"https://substack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com/public/images/277c03f8-e598-4694-b172-770e0f99d188_652x1000.jpeg","srcNoWatermark":null,"fullscreen":null,"imageSize":null,"height":1000,"width":652,"resizeWidth":158,"bytes":null,"alt":"Transit: Rachel Cusk (Faye trilogie, 2)","title":null,"type":null,"href":null,"belowTheFold":true,"topImage":false,"internalRedirect":null}" class="sizing-normal" alt="Transit: Rachel Cusk (Faye trilogie, 2)" title="Transit: Rachel Cusk (Faye trilogie, 2)" srcset="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_424,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F277c03f8-e598-4694-b172-770e0f99d188_652x1000.jpeg 424w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_848,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F277c03f8-e598-4694-b172-770e0f99d188_652x1000.jpeg 848w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1272,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F277c03f8-e598-4694-b172-770e0f99d188_652x1000.jpeg 1272w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F277c03f8-e598-4694-b172-770e0f99d188_652x1000.jpeg 1456w" sizes="100vw" loading="lazy" /></picture>
<div class="image-link-expand"><svg xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg" width="16" height="16" viewbox="0 0 24 24" fill="none" stroke="#FFFFFF" stroke-width="2" stroke-linecap="round" stroke-linejoin="round" class="lucide lucide-maximize2">
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<p>There’s one part of this story about a female author who moves back to London after her marriage breaks up that I keep thinking about. She’s at a dinner party and one of the guests tells her that she (the guest) reads so much that she can’t tell whether something has actually happened or whether she read it in a book. This keeps happening to her but there’s a memory of a cocker spaniel she could swear was true, Tiffy. But her husband denies that Tiffy exists, and she thinks she’s going mad, but then she finds a photo of herself with a dog and her husband says, “Oh, <em>Taffy</em>.” <em><a href="https://amzn.to/3GZS2C6">Transit</a></em> is full of moments like this, you stop, you savour, you <em>relish</em> the prose.</p>
<p><strong>The Best Literary Fiction</strong></p>
<div class="captioned-image-container">
<figure><a class="image-link is-viewable-img image2" target="_blank" href="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F8544209e-08dc-400c-9e46-02fa30cbd076_663x1000.jpeg" data-component-name="Image2ToDOM">
<div class="image2-inset"><picture><source type="image/webp" srcset="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_424,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F8544209e-08dc-400c-9e46-02fa30cbd076_663x1000.jpeg 424w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_848,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F8544209e-08dc-400c-9e46-02fa30cbd076_663x1000.jpeg 848w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1272,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F8544209e-08dc-400c-9e46-02fa30cbd076_663x1000.jpeg 1272w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F8544209e-08dc-400c-9e46-02fa30cbd076_663x1000.jpeg 1456w" sizes="100vw" /><img src="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F8544209e-08dc-400c-9e46-02fa30cbd076_663x1000.jpeg" width="213" height="321.2669683257919" data-attrs="{"src":"https://substack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com/public/images/8544209e-08dc-400c-9e46-02fa30cbd076_663x1000.jpeg","srcNoWatermark":null,"fullscreen":null,"imageSize":null,"height":1000,"width":663,"resizeWidth":213,"bytes":null,"alt":"The Paper Palace (Reese's Book Club): A Novel : Cowley Heller, Miranda: Amazon.de: Books","title":null,"type":null,"href":null,"belowTheFold":true,"topImage":false,"internalRedirect":null}" class="sizing-normal" alt="The Paper Palace (Reese's Book Club): A Novel : Cowley Heller, Miranda: Amazon.de: Books" title="The Paper Palace (Reese's Book Club): A Novel : Cowley Heller, Miranda: Amazon.de: Books" srcset="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_424,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F8544209e-08dc-400c-9e46-02fa30cbd076_663x1000.jpeg 424w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_848,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F8544209e-08dc-400c-9e46-02fa30cbd076_663x1000.jpeg 848w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1272,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F8544209e-08dc-400c-9e46-02fa30cbd076_663x1000.jpeg 1272w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F8544209e-08dc-400c-9e46-02fa30cbd076_663x1000.jpeg 1456w" sizes="100vw" loading="lazy" /></picture>
<div class="image-link-expand"><svg xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg" width="16" height="16" viewbox="0 0 24 24" fill="none" stroke="#FFFFFF" stroke-width="2" stroke-linecap="round" stroke-linejoin="round" class="lucide lucide-maximize2">
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<p>Delving deep into the past, <em><a href="https://amzn.to/3GYGTRO">The Paper Palace</a></em> starts out with a really complicated but simple premise: Elle has just slept with her best friend, a man she has known with childhood. The present day narrative of the book unfolds over a single day, as Elle tries to make up her mind what to do next. Her husband and three children are on holiday with her, as is her mother, as is the best friend and his wife. The past darts from Elle’s childhood to her early years as an adult, the paper palace in question is a lake house made of cardboard fragments, where her family returns every summer. Everything is so lushly described that by the end of it you could be by that lake, you could be in Elle’s mind, age 4, as she gazes through the bottles in the living room to see her beloved father enter the door.</p>
<p><strong>Bonus Number 16! The Best Book I Published This Year</strong></p>
<div class="captioned-image-container">
<figure><a class="image-link image2" target="_blank" href="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F483c49fc-1a71-43da-b251-eaa6f64525f0_326x500.jpeg" data-component-name="Image2ToDOM">
<div class="image2-inset"><picture><source type="image/webp" srcset="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_424,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F483c49fc-1a71-43da-b251-eaa6f64525f0_326x500.jpeg 424w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_848,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F483c49fc-1a71-43da-b251-eaa6f64525f0_326x500.jpeg 848w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1272,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F483c49fc-1a71-43da-b251-eaa6f64525f0_326x500.jpeg 1272w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F483c49fc-1a71-43da-b251-eaa6f64525f0_326x500.jpeg 1456w" sizes="100vw" /><img src="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F483c49fc-1a71-43da-b251-eaa6f64525f0_326x500.jpeg" width="142" height="217.7914110429448" data-attrs="{"src":"https://substack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com/public/images/483c49fc-1a71-43da-b251-eaa6f64525f0_326x500.jpeg","srcNoWatermark":null,"fullscreen":null,"imageSize":null,"height":500,"width":326,"resizeWidth":142,"bytes":null,"alt":"Soft Animal eBook : Madhavan, Meenakshi Reddy: Amazon.in: Kindle Store","title":null,"type":null,"href":null,"belowTheFold":true,"topImage":false,"internalRedirect":null}" class="sizing-normal" alt="Soft Animal eBook : Madhavan, Meenakshi Reddy: Amazon.in: Kindle Store" title="Soft Animal eBook : Madhavan, Meenakshi Reddy: Amazon.in: Kindle Store" srcset="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_424,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F483c49fc-1a71-43da-b251-eaa6f64525f0_326x500.jpeg 424w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_848,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F483c49fc-1a71-43da-b251-eaa6f64525f0_326x500.jpeg 848w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1272,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F483c49fc-1a71-43da-b251-eaa6f64525f0_326x500.jpeg 1272w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F483c49fc-1a71-43da-b251-eaa6f64525f0_326x500.jpeg 1456w" sizes="100vw" loading="lazy" /></picture></div>
</a></figure>
</div>
<blockquote>
<p>But don’t listen to me, listen to <a href="https://scroll.in/article/1051246/soft-animal-a-rare-novel-about-womanhood-and-the-unmaking-of-a-marriage-during-the-lockdown">Sayari Debnath in Scroll</a>: “<em>Soft Animal</em> is about millennial marriage and motherhood, but it is also about how at the heart of it, we are all selfish, vengeful, self-preserving animals who crave touch and softness. While most of us manage to chain this unlikeable animal, in the direst times, we don’t hesitate to let it loose and devour the façade of humanity that we have so carefully built around us. I have rarely come across books by Indian authors that dwell on the rough edges of marriage or unwanted pregnancies, and this might be the only book that does both against the existential threat of the pandemic.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>If you haven’t read it yet, but you like the way I write (and you must because you’re reading this!) <a href="https://amzn.to/3NIpOzc">here is</a> a link.</p>
<p>What were your favourites this year? Leave me a comment.</p>
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<p>And that’s all from me in twenty twenty three! I wish you all a happy new year, however you’re celebrating and I’ll see you again soon. I might take a little break from this newsletter in January because I’m feeling slightly burnt out but then again I might not so we’ll all see won’t we?</p>
<p>xx</p>
<p>m</p>
<p><strong>Who are you?</strong> <em>Meenakshi Reddy Madhavan, writer of internet words (and other things) author of eight books (<a href="http://www.amazon.in/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=meenakshi+reddy+madhavan">support me by buying a book!)</a> and general city-potter-er.<br />
<br />
Follow me on <a href="http://instagram.com/decemberschild">Instagram</a>! (I have a special account for <a href="https://instagram.com/minnareads">book recommendations</a>)</em></p>
<p><em>Forward to your friends if you liked this and to the highly subjective best books lists you’ve read already if you didn’t.<br />
<br />
Also, write back to me! I love to hear from you.</em></p>
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eMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12716202062654957842noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7382033.post-5583379531390889652023-12-13T11:51:00.001+05:302023-12-13T11:51:24.303+05:30The Internet Personified: December Link List<p>maximum beloveds!</p>
<p>Here is my last link list of the year—it’s a good one, but not like literally “the best things I read online all year” because who has time for that? Besides I’m still busy composing my “best books” missive to you all. <em>That</em> I’m a little slow on, because I’m still reading frantically, but who knew I’d read so many good things in 2023? It’s been a good year for books in general and for me reading in particular (<em>Yellowface? Demon Copperhead? The Bee Sting</em>? Good lord, what riches) but this is not that, this is just a collection of my December links sent out to you all with seasonal cheer and so on.</p>
<p>Yesterday I spent a lot of time in the Longreads archive, so some of these articles are old but still amazing.</p>
<p>A reminder: if you like what I do, if you open this newsletter as soon as you see it, if you wish there were more more more Internet Personifieds, once a week even, please buy me a coffee! It’s also my birthday today so a nice way to get the year started (for me, being born in December means I count my new year from the 13th and not the 31st.)</p>
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<p>This month, I have given myself the gift of exercise with a subscription to Urban Sports Club, which operates this side of the world and offers you a daily class on the basis of your subscription. I have a Medium plan which means I can check in to a class once a day but in a particular centre only four times a month, which suits me. So far I’ve done a lot of yoga and also joined a hula hoop dance class. This system works for me because I am very commitment phobic and enjoy a variety of things. Dance is so fun, and one nice thing about getting older is that I no longer care (much) about looking like a fool. So lots of dance workshops in my future. Here’s <a href="https://urbansportsclub.com/">a link</a> you can use to sign up and treat yourself. (My referral code is MM08471, we both get discounts after month three if we use it.)</p>
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<p>Another gift to myself has been a Mubi subscription because they had a sale on and were selling a year-long one for half price. I usually read to get inspired, but I don’t really watch that many movies that aren’t quote unquote blockbusters. They have a super curated list which I find less stressful than Netflix or Prime because they do their own summaries as well as the film summary as well as link reviews below, so I don’t have to navigate out and search Rotten Tomatoes for hours before I decide to watch something. In Germany, they also bundle a Mubi Go subscription into your regular one so you get one free film ticket a week. I only found this out last week, and the offer ends in 2024, so I quickly went and watched <em>How To Have Sex</em> which is a beautiful film about a young woman going on holiday with her two best friends and also the ideas of sexuality at that age. It made me very pensive, as did <em>Aftersun</em>, another movie I watched on the platform which I can’t stop thinking about. I haven’t regretted a single movie I watched via Mubi, which is saying something because I’m extremely picky. Here’s <a href="https://mubi.com/t/web/global/2OIEZ24i">a link</a> to sign up—we both get a free month if you join via that link.</p>
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<p>Another subscription I have—not new, because I’ve been paying for this since it launched—is Splainer. It’s this incredible news round-up, with an India focus, but they also analyse stories and give you links to read more about them. Plus a fun weekend edition as well. Well-worth the money, and once again, here’s my <a href="https://splainer.in/referral/MWYSU6Q">referral link</a> so you can have a free one month subscription.</p>
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<p>Newsletter reader and journalist Bhavya Dore sent me a link to a podcast she worked on called Friend of the Court. In Bhavya’s words: “It's a narrative account of India's most important legal case: <em>Kesavananda Bharati vs State of Kerala</em>, both the story that unfolded in court, as well as the off-stage drama and the events that led up to and followed from it. It's a legal story but meant for a broader audience.” I listened to the first episode recently and was hooked. You can find them <a href="https://www.anildivanfoundation.org/friendofthecourtseason2">all here</a>.</p>
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<p>“Like most human beings, I grew up making the connection between food and love; what I began to realize when I started cooking for myself was that the more necessary connection was between food and honesty. My parents were both charmingly dishonest people; my father's lies were such that he couldn't admit them except to urge me to develop, like him, "a little larceny in your soul," but my mother could, since most of her lies were about food. "Oh, I'm a terrible fibber," she'd say, and then blithely assert that the Mott's applesauce she'd doctored with lemon and cinnamon was "homemade" or that she'd spent "hours over a hot stove" cooking the package of frozen Banquette fried-chicken drumsticks on our plates.” - From <em><a href="https://www.esquire.com/food-drink/food/a8285/moms-cooking-082410/">My Mom Couldn’t Cook</a></em> by Tom Junod, a 2011 James Beard award winning article that I liked a lot because I’m saturated, <em>SATURATED</em>, by stories of all these amazing grandmas and mas who cooked amazingly and never complained.</p>
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<p>“This is the ethical core of who I am and what I do, yet the ethics of food writing don't end there. I'm also extremely aware of my behavior in restaurants. I try to be diplomatic and considerate. Never in my professional life has anyone in the restaurant business questioned my conduct. Not until I ate my third meal at M. Wells.” - From Alan Richman’s <a href="https://www.gq.com/story/alan-richman-m-wells-restaurant-scandal-review">review of the restaurant M Wells</a>, a really old piece of food gossip which nevertheless got me thinking about service in restaurants these days and how we should rate that akin to food. I’ve been to some RUDE bars here in Berlin and suffice it to say, no matter how nice the place, I’m never going back.</p>
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<p>“It turned out I had it backward. The secret to writing success goes deeper than on-the-job training. It requires a willingness to pursue your monomanias wherever they lead. It requires, Weisberg eventually divulged, finding a good enemy. “When I was younger, having an enemy gave me a purpose, because the purpose is to fight the enemy,” he told me. “It’s hard to describe how alluring that was. If you have an enemy, everything makes sense.” There it was: scratch the affability, uncover a gladiator. If I wanted to understand Weisberg, and maybe human creativity generally, I realized I’d have to understand the symbolic function of The Enemy.” From <a href="https://www.wired.com/story/joe-weisberg-the-spy-who-dumped-the-cia/"></a><em><a href="https://www.wired.com/story/joe-weisberg-the-spy-who-dumped-the-cia/">The Spy Who Dumped The CIA, Went To Therapy and Now Makes Incredible Television</a></em> by Laura Kipnis, an incredible profile of Joe Weisberg, creator of <em>The Americans</em>, which I watched last year with my mum and K, and really got into.</p>
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<p>“Maybe all of us, whether guided by God or by science, secretly want to be the ones living in the end times, as though it bestows some epic importance upon our little lives. But what if there is no ultimate annihilation, but instead a million daily deaths, literal or figurative, that no one quite notices? The vultures’ disappearance is catastrophic, yes, but the ability to adapt is stunning. Or terrifying. Or both. No matter how bad things get, how many species get wiped from the earth in humanity’s steady march of population and progress, the living go on. Those species that disappear are erased from the bio-narrative of the planet and forgotten within a generation that only knows of what came before through chance encounters at museum exhibits, a grandmother’s knee, or a picture on a computer screen. Already, there are children turning into teenagers in India who have never seen a vulture, though their parents knew skies filled with swirling kettles of the scavengers for most of their lives.” - From <a href="https://www.vqronline.org/reporting-articles/2015/09/indias-vanishing-vultures">India’s Vanishing Vultures</a> by Meera Subramaniam circa 2015, but these lines stood out for me. Don’t we all want to be in the dramatic pause of the end times? And what if the end comes not with a bang but a whimper?</p>
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<p>“Let me tell you about a thing that happens to me all the time when I’m reading. I’m reading a book that’s been recommended to me or that I’m excited about. These days, because I’ve been writing a novel, I’ve been reading mostly fiction by Americans published in the last twenty-years; often I’m reading fiction that has been published in the last two years or that isn’t even out yet. I’m loving the book, I’m appreciating its rich characters, its humor, the snappiness of its prose. And then the book says something about fat people or fatness that is hateful or reductive and it’s like—record scratch. It totally takes me out of the book and I have to decide whether or not to keep going. Will whatever insight this book might offer me about a character or a place or an idea be worth wading through the author’s baggage about fatness? Unclear.” - From <a href="https://emmacopleyeisenberg.substack.com/p/fatphobia-is-the-literary-worlds">Fatphobia Is The Literary World’s Last Frontier</a> by Emma Copley Eisenberg which really got me thinking about some books that I’ve previously loved.</p>
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<p>“Wood’s favourite flavour is salt and vinegar, but I think her personality is more prawn cocktail – sweet but punchy with her blond bob, floaty floral skirt and silver-studded trainers. In the past two decades, her work has taken her everywhere. Before Doritos launched in India five years ago, she took a “culinary trek” across the northern city of Lucknow, trying different pilaus, meats and breads from street food stalls. She relies on knowledge from local PepsiCo teams, so that if she says, “I think I can taste cardamom,” they can clarify: “It’s roasted green cardamom, actually.”” - From <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/food/2023/dec/02/the-weird-secretive-world-of-crisp-flavours">Inside The Surprisingly Secretive World of Crisps Flavours</a> by Amelia Tate. I used to really enjoy Uncle Chipps’ Papdi Chaat flavour but as I grew older, it was only plain salted for me, slightly oily, slightly soggy. In Berlin, the supermarket we frequent the most often does the best salt and vinegar own brand chips I’ve had, extra vinegar, slightly sweet, very salty. I get these for a treat because I can go through a bag in an evening.</p>
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<p>“Beyond these incidents, German politicians have seemingly competed among themselves to see who can promote anti-antisemitism the loudest — and who can be the harshest on the Muslim minority. Nancy Faeser, a government cabinet minister, urged that the government “use all legal means to deport Hamas supporters.” The leader of Germany’s center-right party, the Christian Democratic Union, Friedrich Merz declared, “Germany cannot accept any more refugees. We have enough antisemitic men in this country.” Scholz, the chancellor, piled on: “Too many are coming,” he said. “We must finally deport on a grand scale.”” - From <a href="https://www.codastory.com/rewriting-history/crackdown-pro-palestinian-gatherings-germany/">The crackdown on pro-Palestinian gatherings in Germany</a> by Isaac Bernstein. It’s been an odd schizophrenic time here in Germany. Most people agree that the ongoing attacks on Gaza are terrible and must be stopped, but the Germans also carry with them a great amount of German Guilt which cannot be erased. These two points of view are leading to a lot of conflicts, both in private conversations and in public.</p>
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<p>“For me, good literature investigates morality. It stares unrelentingly at the behavior of its characters without requiring righteousness. The problem these days with a vast amount of fiction (and its criticism) is that morality is treated as if it were mathematically precise, obvious, undeniable, and eternal. It is none of those things. Morality evolves, devolves and evolves again. It is not a rule that comes from outside of ourselves, as when the Ten Commandments supposedly floated down to the top of a mountain into the hands of Moses. That’s fiction, too, folks, as if the Bible were a very good book of magical realism, written by Garcia Marquez. Truth does not have to be literal. It can arrive at reality, dressed in a dream. Paradoxically, fiction is often truer than journalism in regard to the nature of life, even though it is largely invented, aka “fiction.” And genuine morality, as opposed to contemporary etiquette, arises from within us, over time, with thought, with feeling, and, crucially… with curiosity. In Buddhist meditation, for example, curiosity leads to a greater and more generous awareness.” - From <a href="https://www.esquire.com/entertainment/books/a44496450/literary-fiction-death-digital-age/">The Life, Death—And Afterlife—of Literary Fiction</a> by Will Blythe. No question, the internet is changing the way we write—and the way we read. It scares me sometimes. No, it scares me often. In my old(er) age, I’m retreating further and further away from the lure of social media at least, but I can’t help worry that this will actually sell even fewer books than I have already.</p>
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<p>“All told, there are many questions that 42 is clearly the answer to, but only a few of those questions have fundamental, universal, or cosmic implications. If it truly is the answer to the ultimate question about life, the Universe, and everything, we owe it to ourselves to try and reconstruct just what that question might be. From mathematics to physics, five vital questions emerge that legitimately have 42 as their answer.” - From <a href="https://bigthink.com/starts-with-a-bang/42-answer-fundamental-questions/">42 really is the answer to these 5 fundamental questions</a> by Ethan Siegel because obvs.</p>
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<p><strong>Postscripts</strong>: On the <a href="https://hakaimagazine.com/features/the-naturalist-and-the-wonderful-loveable-so-good-very-bold-jay/">adaptability of jays</a>. <strong>~</strong> Reels <a href="https://www.wired.com/story/youtube-instagram-reels-india-elections/">might influence</a> the next Indian election (yikes.) ~ <em>Love Actually</em> <a href="https://variety.com/2023/film/reviews/revisiting-love-actually-20-year-anniversary-1235802104/">turns 20</a> (yikes again). ~ On the <a href="https://lithub.com/the-stars-are-hollow-on-gilmore-girls-as-normporn/">normporn ways</a> of <em>Gilmore Girls</em>. ~ Invite <a href="https://www.vox.com/even-better/23943426/anti-gatekeeping-invitations-parties-guests-strangers-old-friends">all your friends</a> to all your parties. ~ The <a href="https://lithub.com/you-had-me-at-meow-on-the-hidden-language-of-cats/">hidden language</a> of cats. ~ Humans have <a href="https://www.theatlantic.com/health/archive/2023/10/humans-have-two-noses-really/675823/">two noses</a>.</p>
<p>That’s a season wrap on links of the week! I’ll send you one last newsletter this month with my best books picks and then we’ll speak again in 2024.</p>
<p>x</p>
<p>m</p>
<p><strong>Who are you?</strong> <em>Meenakshi Reddy Madhavan, writer of internet words (and other things) author of eight books (<a href="http://www.amazon.in/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=meenakshi+reddy+madhavan">support me by buying a book!)</a> and general city-potter-er.<br />
<br />
Follow me on <a href="http://instagram.com/decemberschild">Instagram</a>! (I have a special account for <a href="https://instagram.com/minnareads">book recommendations</a>)</em></p>
<p><em>Forward to your friends if you liked this and to your heartless employer insisting you work just the same as usual even though everyone KNOWS the second half of December is essentially a holiday that you get paid for if you didn’t.<br />
<br />
Also, write back to me! I love to hear from you.</em></p>
eMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12716202062654957842noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7382033.post-82153422398997958692023-12-03T18:50:00.001+05:302023-12-03T18:50:51.365+05:30The Internet Personified: Life, the Universe and Everything Part II<p>My dear songbirds,</p>
<p>When we left off last time, I had covered my years and advice from year dot to twenty one. You can read that one here, ICYMI.</p>
<div class="digest-post-embed" data-attrs="{"nodeId":"7a04c3fe-e893-472c-8574-9782a83e826e","caption":"My frisky bass guitars, I think I can feel my Birthday Person-ness coming back to me this year. First of all, here in the Global North, they have been pushing Christmas at me since September. Like, I was wearing my Birkenstocks and a short sleeveless dress, and there’s a whole rack of advent calendars summoned up out of nowhere at DM. There were all sort…","size":"lg","isEditorNode":true,"title":"The Internet Personifed: Life, the Universe and Everything Part I","publishedBylines":[{"id":10749,"name":"Meenakshi Reddy Madhavan","bio":"Indian woman of letters. I write books (& other things) from Berlin. I used to blog, but now I send this newsletter out instead. ","photo_url":"https://bucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com/public/images/8904fa54-1764-4dee-a457-ff460d3fece3_400x400.jpeg","is_guest":false,"bestseller_tier":null}],"post_date":"2023-11-22T12:58:04.289Z","cover_image":"https://substack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com/public/images/52246bed-0642-479b-af4f-1b7d16e1610b_640x485.jpeg","cover_image_alt":null,"canonical_url":"https://mrm.substack.com/p/the-internet-personifed-life-the","section_name":null,"id":138987584,"type":"newsletter","reaction_count":3,"comment_count":3,"publication_name":" The Internet: Personified ","publication_logo_url":"https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F354f7acd-eeb8-4f2e-acff-27e061d8d7bf_256x256.png","belowTheFold":false}"></div>
<p>Now since December is busy posting time for me—almost time for my Great Books 2023 round-up!—I’m sending you part two in plenty of time and ten days ahead of my actual big birthday!</p>
<p>A reminder: if you look forward to this newsletter, if you open it as soon as it hits your inbox, if you enjoy reading my dispatches from my corner of the world, please buy me a coffee! It’s very little investment and it helps keep me motivated and writing to you.</p>
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<p>Onwards!</p>
<p>When we left off, I was telling you about my twenty first year, when I chose to go on into journalism and abandon a briefly started masters degree in English Literature.</p>
<p><strong>Year Twenty Two:</strong> Make financially irresponsible decisions every now and then. I chose to move out of my very comfortable parental abode and into the “real world” with a starting salary of Rs 7,500 (say 75 euros?). This mostly went into my rent, leaving me super broke and super stressed out but I’d done it, I’d moved out without a cushion. The years that followed got easier, I learned to live on my own and run a household, I learned to live with other people who weren’t my parents (only child, see?). It was immensely difficult and immensely rewarding. I think you should find the same thing for yourself.</p>
<p><strong>Year Twenty Three</strong>: If you’re going to move into a house with your friends, you’d all better make your expectations clear in the beginning. Otherwise… <em>awkward</em>.</p>
<p><strong>Year Twenty Four:</strong> Do that wild project you’ve been thinking about doing for ages with no expectations at all, except that you’ll have fun doing it. Did I ever tell you I was once a reasonably well-known blogger? I was <em>famous</em> for my <em>blog</em>. And I poured my heart and soul into that thing. It paid off, not financially, but in terms of building a public profile greater than anything I had with print journalism. My blog quite literally led to a book deal, and twenty years later, here we are.</p>
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<p><strong>Year Twenty Five:</strong> Upend your life from time to time just because you can. Move cities, move countries, or even smaller, move house. Take a really large decision at the spur of the moment, and then enjoy watching it come together. You’ll never regret it.</p>
<p><strong>Year Twenty Six:</strong> I should’ve used all the publicity I got for my first novel and leveraged it into publicity for life. I had no idea how to do that. So, basically, talk to people who have been doing things for longer than you have and use their wisdoms to build your own. There’s only ever going to be one debut thing for you, and that’s when the publicity will be at its highest, so take it all and use it well.</p>
<p><strong>Year Twenty Seven:</strong> Do not let your period of self-loathing allow you to get into relationships with people who are bad for you. You’ll always be happier alone than with someone who actively makes you unhappy.</p>
<p><strong>Year Twenty Eight:</strong> What’s holding you back from creating your own good life? A partner (or a house, or a job, or a child) isn’t going to change the fundamental-ness of who you are. Start by living the way you want to, in my case, it was a tiny house, an annexe flat, once the servant’s quarters of the house next door, where I started again with my cat and hosted several dinner parties and sat on the terrace and watched the metro go by.</p>
<p><strong>Year Twenty Nine:</strong> Take a chance on love, even if it might break your heart. Sometimes it works out in ways you’ve not even allowed yourself to dream of.</p>
<p><strong>Year Thirty:</strong> (<em>my thirties are all a bit of a blur, they spun by so fast so the advice for this decade might be out of chronology.)</em> These next few years, everyone you know is going to have children. It’s a good time to decide what you want to do. You kind of know in your bones though.</p>
<p><strong>Year Thirty One:</strong> YES you need more animals in your life, YES you will probably regret this whenever you travel, YES this is not a decision you should make impulsively, YES you love them so much even in the face of their mortality (and stinky litter boxes and vomit on the floor). Living with another species is a beautiful and unique human privilege.</p>
<p><strong>Year Thirty Two:</strong> Bad jobs are really not worth the money you’re getting. Do you want to be unhappy every waking day of your life? Find a workplace that respects you and treats you like a person instead of an automaton.</p>
<p><strong>Year Thirty Three:</strong> The best sign of an intelligent mind is someone who doesn’t know everything. If the politics of your country depresses you, try and find out why it’s happened and why it’s continuing to happen. It’s not going to leave you any less depressed, but at least you’ll be well-informed. I find from my psychoanalysis, that once I know <em>why</em> I’m feeling a certain way, it helps me cope. This was advice I should’ve given myself in 2014, but hindsight is 20-20.</p>
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<p><strong>Year Thirty Four:</strong> Get out of town! Learn how to travel well: what are the things you can live with and the things you can live without? Breakfast included is always worth it. Carry your own coffee stuff, it’s surprisingly hard to find. Remember to leave room in your bags for what you’re going to buy. If you travel light, you don’t have to wait for anyone and this is amazing. Do research only in the last week before you go and mark all the places you want to see on Google Maps. (Otherwise it gets overwhelming.) Always leave room for a rest-day, where you do nothing but read in a nice cafe. I also like to leave time for a daily nap, but I’m getting older, and I prefer naps to seeing everything.</p>
<p><strong>Year Thirty Five:</strong> Go back to the same holiday destination over and over again for a whole year or two, till you know it intimately. The place becomes a friend. You’re a regular at certain places. It might sound dull—why go back?—but the pay-off is that suddenly there’s a place that’s not home, where you just go on holiday, that becomes a sort of offshoot of home, where you feel at peace and everything is familiar and yet, everything is so different from where you’ve just flown in from.</p>
<p><strong>Year Thirty Six:</strong> Yes, it’s possible to get married and have a party and not break the bank doing it, but it should be something that you <em>want</em> to do instead of something you’re forced to. Some people love huge weddings, I never did. Your wedding is about <em>you</em> and not your entire extended family. This is sometimes hard to remember in India, but there’s only two people going into a marriage after all. Put your foot down and let it be one of the first acts of assertion in your married life.</p>
<p><strong>Year Thirty Seven and Year Thirty Eight:</strong> Some years in your life are just a waiting period. You only realise this later, when you’re looking back at your life such as it is—maybe writing a newsletter about it—and you think, “What was the point of those years? I wasn’t doing anything, just repeating what I’d already done.” But you wouldn’t be <em>here</em>, at whatever new point of your life you’re in now, without those fallow periods, the patterns so deep you could do them sleepwalking. I am generally a restless person, but I’m also a very lazy one. I liked my 37th and 38th year, because I felt like I had curled into my life like a caterpillar, inside my cocoon. Eventually, you’ve got to split out of them, and emerge into the world like a butterfly blah blah blah, but sometimes you can stay in your cocoon for ages, hibernating like a bear (have switched animal metaphors but you get my gist.) (How terrifying would a bear-butterfly hybrid be?)</p>
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<p><strong>Year Thirty Nine:</strong> Massive world events will sometimes occur in your lifetime. Once you get over being stunned by them, you do the only thing you can do, what humans have done for centuries in the face of adversity: you look forward. <em>What will I do after this</em>, we all thought to ourselves. Sometimes you do the thing you thought you would and that’s satisfying. Sometimes you return to your life with a sense of gratitude, and that’s satisfying too. Don’t forget though. It’s important not to forget.</p>
<p><strong>Year Forty:</strong> Making new friends is much harder than it used to be, especially if you work from home and only leave the house to meet new people, but everyone has the same problem and so the internet has several solutions. They may not be best friends, or even people you see after a short two month burst of enthusiasm, but every time you meet someone new you’re learning a little more about how to be comfortable in this situation.</p>
<p><strong>Year Forty One: (AT LAST)</strong> What a great year I’ve had. After about a year and a half of inefficient German bureaucracy, I finally got my national visa and was able to stay in Berlin for longer than 90 days. This has changed everything, I finally feel like a resident of this city. Thanks to being here full time, I’ve managed to sustain friendships and take up hobbies and figure out writing rythyms and all sorts of other life-skill-y things. This was also the year <a href="https://www.amazon.in/dp/0143454471?ref_=cm_sw_r_mwn_dp_1Y2BJDEQEHQ3S5H91517">Soft Animal</a> came out, a book I’m extremely proud of. I’ll tell you one new thing from my forty first year that I think makes for good advice: I started challenging my own beliefs. Like, did I think I didn’t like something because I once didn’t like it at age 22? Or was there something else to it? I don’t want to become one of those narrow minded old people, who refuse to listen because they’re older and therefore know everything. It’s so easy to slip into that. I want to keep finding out things about myself and about the world. It keeps me young.</p>
<p>And with that, we end! Let me know what you think in comments or reply to this email.</p>
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<p>I have many other stories for you but those will have to wait till next time. Have you watched <em>Fleishman Is In Trouble?</em> We binged it all in one day, and it’s really good.</p>
<p>xx</p>
<p>m</p>
<p><strong>Who are you?</strong> <em>Meenakshi Reddy Madhavan, writer of internet words (and other things) author of eight books (<a href="http://www.amazon.in/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=meenakshi+reddy+madhavan">support me by buying a book!)</a> and general city-potter-er.<br />
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Follow me on <a href="http://instagram.com/decemberschild">Instagram</a>! (I have a special account for <a href="https://instagram.com/minnareads">book recommendations</a>)</em></p>
<p><em>Forward to your friends if you liked this and to Uniqlo Heattech which appears to be made for winters WITHOUT wind as when worn in chilling polar gusts are as much use to me as silk stockings if you didn’t.<br />
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eMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12716202062654957842noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7382033.post-21190321572244601552023-11-22T18:52:00.001+05:302023-11-22T18:52:27.353+05:30The Internet Personifed: Life, the Universe and Everything Part I<p>My frisky bass guitars,</p>
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<p>I think I can feel my Birthday Person-ness coming back to me this year. First of all, here in the Global North, they have been pushing Christmas at me since <em>September</em>. Like, I was wearing my Birkenstocks and a short sleeveless dress, and there’s a whole rack of advent calendars summoned up out of nowhere at DM. There were all sorts of things the Germans celebrated between now and September: the first day of school (the kids get these large paper cones filled with school supplies and sweets, but only for the <em>first</em> first day, not every first day thereafter), Halloween (make-up offers and skeletons), autumn in general (my favourite local bar strung up autumn leaves in between the fairy lights), <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/St._Martin%27s_Day">St Martin’s Day</a> (little kids running around with lanterns), but now all that is done, everyone’s like, “Right. Is it Christmas yet?” Office Christmas parties have already started, Christmas markets open their gates this weekend and glühwein has been on offer at all the small corner shops for some weeks now.</p>
<p>The weather is kind of miserable—very wet and windy, but it’s still not super cold* yet, so there’s something to be said about having your face tingle with cold while your body is warm. Nice, because it’s new, I guess. In a month we’ll all be upset about this but by then it’s actual Christmas. (We don’t discuss January in Berlin.)</p>
<p>*EDIT: since I wrote that sentence three days ago, it has since become super cold.</p>
<p>Anyway I’m due for a birthday next month* and I’m feeling sort of cheery about it. I’m turning forty two this year and I feel pretty good about my age as well, which is always nice. 42 is, for those of you who know <em>The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy,</em> the answer to “life, the universe and everything.” I look forward to my life having some answers, finally, when so far it’s just been questions.</p>
<p><em>*</em>My birthday is the thirteenth of December, aka 1312, which is what graffiti artists here use to signal the term: “All Cops are B*st*rds.” Which becomes ACAB, which is hate speech and you can be prosecuted for it, so they settled for 1312, which corresponds to the letters ACAB on a numerical keyboard. You see 1312 all over the place, an easy way to remember one’s own 13th of 12th, if one needed reminding.</p>
<p>I do have some answers though, so I’m writing those down like one of those LinkedIn influencers who are all “here are 30 things I learned at 30,” except mine are better because the first piece of advice I have to give you is everyone else’s advice usually sucks unless it’s about something practical. So, take advice about where to eat in a new city, how to file your taxes, how to get in touch with someone and so on, but don’t bother taking advice on how to live your own very personal life, which means also that you can ignore this paragraph completely and live your life completely according to other people’s wisdoms. So meta!</p>
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<p>I’m going chronologically and telling you something I learned from each year I’ve been on this planet, so buckle up buttercups, this is one of <em>those</em> newsletters.</p>
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<p><strong>Year One</strong>: When learning a new language (or language at all), first learn the words that mean the things that you like the most. My first proper word was the Telugu for “bird.” In German, I have words I learned right in the beginning that stayed: “beautiful,” and “cat,” and then also words that summed up feelings: “the sorrows of the world,” and “the weight you gain when you’re sad.” (Only in German, am I right?)</p>
<p><strong>Year Two</strong>: When you find something you love, do it constantly for the rest of your life. I learned to read at age two and a half, and I haven’t stopped since. I read every single day and also go to sleep at night with a book in my hand. (Pro tip: switch to a Kindle with a backlight for night reading, it’s easier to turn over and also you can turn off the lights and go to sleep as soon as your chapter is done.)</p>
<p><strong>Year Three</strong>: When making new friends, offer your strengths to match their weaknesses and vice versa. My best friends are people who have something within them that I long for. When I started school for the first time, a lot of the other kids were crying at being left alone and I went up to them and asked <em>why</em> they were crying. I’m not sure this worked as a friendship tactic, but to this day I’m friends with one little girl who walked to nursery school with me every morning. (I don’t think she cried, she isn’t the crying type, but I remain delighted by her in general.)</p>
<p><strong>Year Four</strong>: When the other kids won’t play with you, find your own games. I spent a lot of time alone at age four, but I had my own world and my own vivid imagination and eventually, another girl who I’d been eyeing across the park for many months became my close friend to the point that she couldn’t be punished by keeping her away from me, because that would be a punishment for me too. (Yes, she’s still my friend. Additional advice: stay in touch with as many people from your childhood as you can, because they know you in a way that no one else will.)</p>
<p><strong>Year Five</strong>: Let animals into your life freely, with no care of the consequences.</p>
<p><strong>Year Six</strong>: At some point you will thank yourself in the past for learning how to ride a bicycle. Why not get back on a bike today?</p>
<p><strong>Year Seven</strong>: Give your heart to everyone, even the people who might not deserve it, or know what to do with it. Yes, you might get hurt, but also yes, you will learn how to love in an abandoned, let it all go sort of way that can never be unlearned. (I had many “best friends” this year who were sort of baffled by who I was, but it was my choosing them as best friends that made me a stronger person. Love doesn’t always have to be reciprocated.)</p>
<p><strong>Year Eight</strong>: (this is harder than I thought because I don’t seem to have much from year eight, a weird blank year. Oh yes, I entered a bunch of contests.) Imagine that whatever you do is the best version of the skill, and proceed accordingly. Can you draw a little? You’re an <em>artist</em>. Can you put forward your opinion in a calm and rational manner? You’re a champion <em>debater</em>. No one has to slap a blue ribbon on your front for you to big yourself up in your own head. Do it for yourself anyway. Practice saying, “I’m actually really good at….”</p>
<p><strong>Year Nine</strong>: <em>why have I started this i have no idea what happened to me in the ninth year of my life and definitely no idea how to tie it into a pithy aphorism. I started keeping a diary around now I guess.</em> Those diaries are really fun to read now. Look, you need a journal. We’re so used to social media that all our thoughts are filtered through public perception. <em>How will my audience feel about this</em>, you think. Don’t you want a place where you can be bitchy or angsty or super boring and no one will ever see it? Start a diary! And ignore all those bullet journal type Instagram accounts. It doesn’t have to be attractive. Just take a blank notebook and go, “Dear Diary, today I had to go to the supermarket and it was sort of dull but it also made me think about the party I’m throwing this weekend, and how unhappy I am that Neha* isn’t coming.”</p>
<p>(*no offence to Nehas, I know and love many Nehas.)</p>
<p><strong>Year Ten:</strong> Travelling alone can reveal all sorts of things about other people—and also yourself. (Especially if you’re somewhat vulnerable and at the mercy of others, like me, age 10, sent off to the US to visit my aunt and cousins two weeks before my mother joined us.)</p>
<p><strong>Year Eleven:</strong> Television is amazing and it can also ruin your day a little bit.</p>
<p><strong>Year Twelve:</strong> We had no idea our periods were going to last this long, but I’ve got to say, despite the blood and the ache and the Period Pimple (why <em>still</em>? I’m so old!) and the Period Poops (this is a thing), I’m going to miss my Red Days when they go forever. It’s such a good way for checking in with your body. Am I OK? Is everything working as it should? (Of course if you have PCOD or ende-whatsit, then you have my full sympathy and they should really invent some sort of cure for that.)</p>
<p><strong>Year Thirteen</strong>: Go on, have a disco-themed birthday party.</p>
<p><strong>Year Fourteen:</strong> If you have a massive failure in your life and you’re really unhappy about it, that really sucks and it’s okay to be angry but also you’ve gained something no one else has and that is the opportunity to tap into your inner strength and emerge blazing on to the other side. (I flunked class nine, and went away to boarding school to get away from it all and y’know, I really think I enjoyed the turn my life took me on.) (In retrospect, of course. In the moment I wanted to <em>die.</em>)</p>
<p><strong>Year Fifteen</strong>: Join everything. Rediscover the stuff that used to make you happy. (This is easy in Berlin, my theatre group is going great guns—and my German has improved as well—I know several people in choirs, there’s board game evenings and art workshops and all sorts of exciting things. Check out the Meetup website for your city to see what’s going on.)</p>
<p><strong>Year Sixteen</strong>: Remember when we used to listen to new music all the time to try and shape our own tastes? We should do that again. Just put on a Spotify playlist (not “Weekly Top 50” that’s pretty bad) but a random well-curated list of songs by people you may not have heard of. I know we’re going to keep returning to the ‘80s and ‘90s—-and me, last night in an U Bahn, super sleepy and listening to “She Will Be Loved” over and over again—but it’s nice to keep your brain and your ears engaged with the world instead of constantly soothing ourselves with the same sounds over and over again.</p>
<p><strong>Year Seventeen:</strong> If you’re reading this, you’ve probably been kissing people for a long time, but let’s make out (with whoever floats your boat) like we’re seventeen again. You know? That <em>urgency</em>, that <em>not knowing what it is you wanted but you were going to look for it anyway</em>. “Easier said than done, Meenakshi,'“ you’re thinking, but when was it <em>ever</em> easy, ya. All I’m saying is approach touching someone else (consensually) in the way a seventeen year old would, with great excitement and clumsiness and yearning and all of it. All of it.</p>
<p><strong>Year Eighteen</strong>: Vote and drive responsibly.</p>
<p><strong>Year Nineteen:</strong> Practise sitting in a room with a group of female friends and telling them everything about your life without filters. Practise listening when they do the same.</p>
<p><strong>Year Twenty:</strong> Death will always be the hardest thing to write about. (I tried <a href="https://mrm.substack.com/p/the-internet-personified-did-you-c2b">here</a>.)</p>
<p><strong>Year Twenty One:</strong> When the opportunity arises, as it will, over and over again, you will have to choose between retreating indoors or going out and facing the world. I first did this at 21, when I picked a job over continuing my education with a master’s degree. So far, I mostly choose the world with all its delights, but as I’m getting older, the interior life of an academic* is becoming more appealing. I’d say choose the world when you’re looking for something to write about, choose your room when you’re ready to write.</p>
<p>*I don’t mean <em>literally</em> an academic, I just mean anyone who is choosing to study or think or be, even outside of a university context.</p>
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<p>All right! I’m going to end on a cliffhanger—if advice posts <em>can</em> have cliffhangers. To be continued, sweeties. Remember to tip your waitress if you enjoyed this.</p>
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<p>Yesterday at our theatre workshop, we all had to pretend to be animals and I picked a butterfly, because I like the German word (SCHMETTERLING) so I decided to add butterfly gifs to this whole thing.</p>
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<figure><a class="image-link image2" target="_blank" href="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F576eb16a-4921-4f92-bd64-e1c617e8ad05_245x202.gif" data-component-name="Image2ToDOM">
<div class="image2-inset"><picture><source type="image/webp" srcset="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_424,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_lossy/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F576eb16a-4921-4f92-bd64-e1c617e8ad05_245x202.gif 424w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_848,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_lossy/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F576eb16a-4921-4f92-bd64-e1c617e8ad05_245x202.gif 848w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1272,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_lossy/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F576eb16a-4921-4f92-bd64-e1c617e8ad05_245x202.gif 1272w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_lossy/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F576eb16a-4921-4f92-bd64-e1c617e8ad05_245x202.gif 1456w" sizes="100vw" /><img src="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_lossy/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F576eb16a-4921-4f92-bd64-e1c617e8ad05_245x202.gif" width="320" height="263.83673469387753" data-attrs="{"src":"https://substack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com/public/images/576eb16a-4921-4f92-bd64-e1c617e8ad05_245x202.gif","srcNoWatermark":null,"fullscreen":null,"imageSize":null,"height":202,"width":245,"resizeWidth":null,"bytes":null,"alt":"a bugs life butterfly GIF","title":null,"type":null,"href":null,"belowTheFold":true,"topImage":false,"internalRedirect":null}" class="sizing-normal" alt="a bugs life butterfly GIF" title="a bugs life butterfly GIF" srcset="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_424,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_lossy/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F576eb16a-4921-4f92-bd64-e1c617e8ad05_245x202.gif 424w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_848,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_lossy/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F576eb16a-4921-4f92-bd64-e1c617e8ad05_245x202.gif 848w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1272,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_lossy/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F576eb16a-4921-4f92-bd64-e1c617e8ad05_245x202.gif 1272w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_lossy/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F576eb16a-4921-4f92-bd64-e1c617e8ad05_245x202.gif 1456w" sizes="100vw" loading="lazy" /></picture></div>
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<p>Speak later this week with the second half of this thing! Comment or reply to this email to let me know you’re listening, I get lonesome when none of you reply.</p>
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<p>Have a great week!</p>
<p>xx</p>
<p>m</p>
<p><strong>Who are you?</strong> <em>Meenakshi Reddy Madhavan, writer of internet words (and other things) author of eight books (<a href="http://www.amazon.in/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=meenakshi+reddy+madhavan">support me by buying a book!)</a> and general city-potter-er.<br />
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Follow me on <a href="http://instagram.com/decemberschild">Instagram</a>! (I have a special account for <a href="https://instagram.com/minnareads">book recommendations</a>)</em></p>
<p><em>Forward to your friends if you liked this and to really obvious advice givers if you didn’t.<br />
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Also, write back to me! I love to hear from you.</em></p>
eMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12716202062654957842noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7382033.post-71821502254041938332023-10-31T18:54:00.001+05:302023-10-31T18:54:04.304+05:30The Internet Personified: Tuesday Link List<p>My friends, my friends!</p>
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<figure><a class="image-link is-viewable-img image2" target="_blank" href="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F8c802ddb-b0ec-4fea-bf4c-7568911c1979_1331x2400.jpeg" data-component-name="Image2ToDOM">
<div class="image2-inset"><picture><source type="image/webp" srcset="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_424,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F8c802ddb-b0ec-4fea-bf4c-7568911c1979_1331x2400.jpeg 424w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_848,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F8c802ddb-b0ec-4fea-bf4c-7568911c1979_1331x2400.jpeg 848w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1272,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F8c802ddb-b0ec-4fea-bf4c-7568911c1979_1331x2400.jpeg 1272w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F8c802ddb-b0ec-4fea-bf4c-7568911c1979_1331x2400.jpeg 1456w" sizes="100vw" /><img src="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F8c802ddb-b0ec-4fea-bf4c-7568911c1979_1331x2400.jpeg" width="1331" height="2400" data-attrs="{"src":"https://substack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com/public/images/8c802ddb-b0ec-4fea-bf4c-7568911c1979_1331x2400.jpeg","srcNoWatermark":null,"fullscreen":null,"imageSize":null,"height":2400,"width":1331,"resizeWidth":null,"bytes":4741315,"alt":null,"title":null,"type":"image/jpeg","href":null,"belowTheFold":false,"topImage":true,"internalRedirect":null}" class="sizing-normal" alt="" srcset="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_424,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F8c802ddb-b0ec-4fea-bf4c-7568911c1979_1331x2400.jpeg 424w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_848,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F8c802ddb-b0ec-4fea-bf4c-7568911c1979_1331x2400.jpeg 848w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1272,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F8c802ddb-b0ec-4fea-bf4c-7568911c1979_1331x2400.jpeg 1272w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F8c802ddb-b0ec-4fea-bf4c-7568911c1979_1331x2400.jpeg 1456w" sizes="100vw" fetchpriority="high" /></picture>
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<figcaption class="image-caption">Here I am bursting into your inbox with my links</figcaption>
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<p>Ah man, it’s 5.30 pm (on Monday, but I’ve cleverly titled this the TUESDAY link list so I can send it out tomorrow and assuage my guilt) and outside is pitch black. Like middle-of-the-night black. Like, I should have finished my dinner and be brushing my teeth for bed black. I’d forgotten this about Berlin, how dark it gets suddenly in the middle of the day. See, I’d been tending to romanticise winter—it’s so cozy! everything smells good! there’s soup and novels—but as the months go by, I’m going to see less and less daylight until finally, you get one strip of bleak grey sky for about an hour in the morning if you’re lucky and by 3 pm, here we are, dark as coal, cold as the Arctic. This is really Berlin’s season though. In the summer, you forget, it’s so beautiful here, the days are endless, the nights are warm, but that’s just a party dress she puts on. This is the time of year that Berlin is more comfortable in, often wet, quite cold, where the nights are endless instead.</p>
<p>Chalo, at least we have a few weeks left of autumn. “Herbst” they call it here. The trees are all red and gold, and my underlayers are still light. I have to go out this evening, but it’s already feeling like “too late.” K is away for the rest of this week and so I’m going to have a solitary life, where, in all likelihood I will fall asleep at 8 pm just because it’s dark as fuck outside and my body is super confused.</p>
<p>The global north is weird.</p>
<p>Anyway! Moving on to the purest form of escapism, ie, reading, and boy, do I have a lot of links for you this week. Who’s got two thumbs and is hiding from the news right now? THIS LADY. Who’s got two thumbs and also has read enough to acknowledge the privilege she has in being able to ignore the news? ALSO THIS LADY. Who hates the term “acknowledge your privilege” because it’s become a catch-all get-out-of-jail-free card where you can basically be as douchey as you like and wave it away by saying “I acknowledge my privilege” like a Gwyneth Paltrow type person? DING DING DING. Bah. Once you get old enough being a writer, you start to write yourself into circles, like a dog chasing its own tail.</p>
<p>Also Matthew Perry died, which makes me very sad because I’ve rewatched Friends a zillion times and feel like Chandler Bing was a part of my life when I needed him. Apparently Matthew Perry himself was a part of many people’s lives when they needed him so RIP to someone who seemed like a great human being.</p>
<p>As always, The Internet Personified is free (and has been for many years!) so please share it with your friends/family WhatsApp group.</p>
<p>12ft.io is now down (forever? who knows) so use <a href="https://1ft.io/">1ft.io</a> to bypass some paywalls.</p>
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<blockquote>
<p>“What if he was your son??” someone posted at me angrily. This comment is emblematic. It’s not the kind of thing one normally says about an artist getting a critical review (unless the criticism is extremely over the top and disproportionate to the status of the artist in question). Generally, the point of presenting an art show in public is to see if it can hold the attention of people who don’t directly know you.- From: <strong><a href="https://news.artnet.com/opinion/devon-rodriguez-parasocial-aesthetics-2380960">The World’s Most Popular Painter Sent His Followers After Me Because He Didn’t Like a Review of His Work. Here’s What I Learned</a> (Artnet) (Editor’s note:</strong> I’m linking this because I’ve been thinking about reviews and criticism a lot lately. I feel like the lines between artists and reviewers have blurred, especially because of social media so anyone can jump over the line and say anything they want to. The old rule of “not contacting reviewers because it’s bad manners” just doesn’t seem to apply any more, so it’s likely that if you give a social media star a bad review, they’ll come after you. Not me though. I read the weird reviews, I feel hate in my heart and then I just internalise it like everyone in my generation! It’s ok! I’m in therapy!)</p>
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<blockquote>
<p>Conversations, like improv scenes, start to sink if they sit still. Takers can paddle for both sides, relieving their partners of the duty to generate the next thing. It’s easy to remember how lonely it feels when a taker refuses to cede the spotlight to you, but easy to forget how lovely it feels when you don’t want the spotlight and a taker lets you recline on the mezzanine while they fill the stage. When you’re tired or shy or anxious or bored, there’s nothing better than hopping on the back of a conversational motorcycle, wrapping your arms around your partner’s waist, and holding on for dear life while they rocket you to somewhere new. From: <strong><a href="https://experimentalhistory.substack.com/p/good-conversations-have-lots-of-doorknobs">Good conversations have lots of doorknobs</a> (Experimental History). (Editor’s note:</strong> Ever since I read this piece I’ve been thinking about how good conversations work. Doorknobs! Try it next time you meet someone new.)</p>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<p>It is hardly possible that Mohammad hasn’t heard that innocent civilians were killed in the attack. Photos of the dead bodies have also been broadcast on Arab-language channels. Does he feel sorry for the victims, many of whom were his age? Mohammad doesn’t answer before letting out a laugh and looking imploringly at his friend. "Just say that you think it’s terrible when innocent people die," his friend tells him with a grin. From: <strong><a href="https://www.spiegel.de/international/germany/the-mood-on-the-berlin-streets-i-actually-don-t-like-hamas-but-a-ee0ebdc3-eade-4915-92a0-5f69653e287a">The Mood on the Berlin Streets: "I Actually Don't Like Hamas, But..."</a> (Der Spiegel) (Editor’s note:</strong> oh man, the conversation around Israel and Gaza is SO WEIRD here. Super polarising. But the German government has taken a strong pro-Israel position and that is officially what most people stick to.)</p>
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<blockquote>
<p>In the 1950s, the British psychoanalyst John Bowlby posited that being separated from a maternal figure in the first years of life warps a child’s future ability to form close relationships. He and other psychologists later added nuance to what became known as “attachment theory,” taking into account new research, such as a longitudinal study of children who’d spent their early years in residential facilities, which indicated that some children had more resiliency than Bowlby had initially grasped. In the ensuing decades, the idea that breaking off a primary attachment would do lifelong damage became influential in child-development spheres and eventually infiltrated popular culture. Early in this century, several adoption attorneys “hit on this thing of attachment” and saw its utility, Dale Dove, who co-chairs the Academy of Adoption & Assisted Reproduction Attorneys’ foster care committee, told me. With the supply of adoptable babies dropping, foster children were becoming a “hot commodity,” he said, and he and his colleagues (among them Tim Eirich’s law partner Seth Grob) realized that attachment experts could be called into court to argue that foster children needed to remain with their foster parents in order to avoid a severed bond. From: <strong><a href="https://www.propublica.org/article/foster-care-intervention-adoption-colorado">When Foster Parents Don’t Want to Give Back the Baby</a> (ProPublica) (Editor’s note:</strong> Found this longread very interesting. When children become a commodity, obviously there will be a tussle between who gets to take care of them all framed under the narrative “it’s the best thing for the child.”)</p>
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<blockquote>
<p>It’s a form of dancing I haven’t done in front of anyone for years; it’s the kind of thing I used to do with a group of other young women or girls when there were no boys around, or at least no boys we cared to impress. That’s what this entire concert reminded me of — time I spent in my own teenage bedroom, singing songs and pinballing between sexy stripper moves and goofy square dancing. Maybe that’s what Eras really is: the acknowledgment of girls as people to memorialize, of who we are and who we were, all existing in the same body, on the same timeline. You are your sluttiest version, your silliest version, your most wholesome, your smartest, your dumbest, your saddest, your happiest — all at once. From: <strong><a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2023/10/12/magazine/taylor-swift-eras-tour.html">This Is Not a Taylor Swift Profile</a> (NYT) (Editor’s note:</strong> What I know about Taylor Swift could probably be expanded into one paragraph but she’s a phenomenon and reading about phenomenons is always fun, especially in a sassy “experience review” of a concert like this one.)</p>
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<p>It's true that my wife and I had been calling Gary a lot. About a year and a half prior, we'd walked into his office in the Berkshires, in Massachusetts — home to white folks who love the Boston Pops, farm to table, and Lyme disease — and signed a contract for Gary to build a pool in our backyard. It made me feel a little bit like an asshole to be honest, the idea of having a pool. Just the rich-person-ness of it. But what is life if not a long march toward losing all your morals and shame. And thanks to the support of my friends and family, I was able to bury my feelings deep inside and become invested in the idea of having a pool. A pool could be evidence that my life hadn't amounted to nothing. When I found myself at a party with intimidating people, I would sometimes say to myself, I am a person with a swimming pool, so I could believe I had the same right to exist as anyone else. And people would have to be friends with me, right? Because who doesn't want a friend with a pool? It would be like when Jeff Allen's mom used to let him have pool parties at his house in eighth grade. Sure, after everyone ate all the grilled cheeses his mom had cut into triangles and sneaked shots of vodka and then thrown up in the bushes, they all left and didn't invite him to come along. But wasn't that better than sitting at home alone on a Friday night, which was probably what Jeff would have been doing otherwise? Wasn't that a win? From: <strong><a href="https://www.businessinsider.com/zelle-fraud-scam-swimming-pool-online-payment-apps-mobile-banking-2023-10">The Great Zelle Pool Scam</a> (Business Insider) (Editor’s note:</strong> I’m always afraid things are scams, so much so that I’ve joined the subreddit <a href="https://www.reddit.com/r/Scams/">r/scams</a> so this whole story is dodge AF but in a schadenfreude so glad it didn’t happen to me way.)</p>
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<p>One Twitter friend told me, of the platform’s current condition, “I’ve actually experienced quite a lot of grief over it.” It may seem strange to feel such wistfulness about a site that users habitually referred to as a “hellsite.” But I’ve heard the same from many others who once considered Twitter, for all its shortcomings, a vital social landscape. Some of them still tweet regularly, but their messages are less likely to surface in my Swift-heavy feed. Musk <a href="https://twitter.com/sarafischer/status/1709250682211987518">recently tweeted</a> that the company’s algorithm “tries to optimize time spent on X” by, say, boosting reply chains and downplaying links that might send people away from the platform. The new paradigm benefits tech-industry “thread guys,” prompt posts in the “what’s your favorite Marvel movie” vein, and single-topic commentators like Derek Guy, who tweets endlessly about menswear. Algorithmic recommendations make already popular accounts and subjects even more so, shutting out the smaller, more magpie-ish voices that made the old version of Twitter such a lively destination. (Guy, meanwhile, has received so much algorithmic promotion under Musk that he accumulated more than half a million followers.) From: <strong><a href="https://www.newyorker.com/culture/infinite-scroll/why-the-internet-isnt-fun-anymore">Why the Internet Isn’t Fun Anymore</a> (The New Yorker) (Editor’s note:</strong> Great minds! I wrote about exactly the same thing in my last newsletter which you <a href="https://mrm.substack.com/p/the-internet-personified-you-used">can read here</a> if you missed it.)</p>
</blockquote>
<p><strong>Postscripts</strong>: <a href="https://www.texasobserver.org/christopher-young-death-penalty-mitesh-patel/">Reconciliation on</a> Death Row. ** People Are Shocked When They Find Out How Old I Am. <a href="https://www.huffpost.com/entry/aging-50-look-young_n_652022c5e4b0102e6961a33b">Here's Why It's Not A Compliment</a>.** <a href="https://restofworld.org/2023/rest-vs-west/">40 trailblazing companies that are beating the West</a><strong>. **</strong> And a throwback to one of my favourite shows, here’s <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VJg1zRgkbno">“Where’s the bathroom?</a>” from <em>Crazy Ex Girlfriend.</em></p>
<p>Have a great week! Speak soon.</p>
<p>xx</p>
<p>m</p>
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<p><strong>Who are you?</strong> <em>Meenakshi Reddy Madhavan, writer of internet words (and other things) author of eight books (<a href="http://www.amazon.in/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=meenakshi+reddy+madhavan">support me by buying a book!)</a> and general city-potter-er.<br />
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Follow me on <a href="http://instagram.com/decemberschild">Instagram</a>! (I have a special account for <a href="https://instagram.com/minnareads">book recommendations</a>)</em></p>
<p><em>Forward to your friends if you liked this and to the inevitable flow of time if you didn’t.<br />
<br />
Also, write back to me! I love to hear from you.</em></p>
eMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12716202062654957842noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7382033.post-81453929017521991882023-10-20T23:52:00.001+05:302023-10-20T23:52:52.800+05:30The Internet Personified: You used to call me on my cellphone<p>Marvellous murder hornets,</p>
<p>Autumn is here. When exactly it slunk up on us, I can’t say, but the days are cold and the nights are colder. It’s not so cold that I can’t wear my nice (read: fashionable) coats, but it’s too cold for bare legs and arms. My cashmere socks have been dug out of the drawer they lay unattended in for four months. Only four! Summer that seemed so endless and perfect has given way to a memory of something that we once had. This morning—grey, rainy—the lamps are on, but not the ceiling light. I like the pools of warmth they give off. Our heating is not on yet, we live in an ugly but functional new building, very much post-war, so our windows are snug and double insulated. The neighbours have turned on their heating so our house is warm through them and slightly smelly because the windows are closed, but cozy. I started to take my vitamin D supplements in September, these might be a placebo, but I’m not feeling the bone-tiredness, the melancholy moods of winter just yet. It’s 8 degrees celcius this morning, and tomorrow, my forecast promises, will be a golden autumn day with a high of 18, so Berlin is hard to predict if you were packing for it.</p>
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<figcaption class="image-caption">Winter clothes, winter mood. (Portrait of Katharina Merian by Hans Brosamer) (I don’t know who they are but I liked her face and also her pendant.)</figcaption>
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<p>When I first visited Berlin, November 2015, that was a golden autumn if there ever was one. The outside was bright, sparkly, the insides were snug. It was warm enough to just wear a coat over a t-shirt. I walked on the road and drank in public, and thought I never wanted to leave. People warned me it wasn’t always like that, but I thought they were exaggerating.</p>
<p>I still never want to leave though. A day like today, a wistful melancholy day, the trees beginning to lose their leaves, everyone under their umbrellas, and me with no errands to run outside the house at all, what bliss. I look at the news and feel the crunch of despair just pushing down in the centre of my chest till I have to sit down and so I’m even more thankful for, you know, <em>all this</em>.</p>
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<p>I hesitate to say I’m “too old” for anything, it seems so simplistic and so final. “Too old” is the “sorry I can’t come tonight, not feeling great” of life excuses, something you toss off and feel wordly wise or weary about. What you mean is that you’re tired, you’re not ready for a new experience, you don’t feel like you can cope with the situation in this particular time of your life etc etc. (I just saw a Substack whose intro opened with, “I’m 33, and that feels <em>too old</em> to write for free on the internet.”)</p>
<p>As of this morning, writing this newsletter, here are some things I am doing/have done recently that I would have, for sure, told you I was “too old” for. Joining a drama workshop where we all speak German and act together. Got more comfortable biking, despite the fact that the last time I was so confident about biking, I was twelve. Stayed out till 3 am (okay, I started protesting at around 1.30, but I powered through!) The things I believe to be true about myself are not actually that set in stone. A thousand years after I decided I didn’t like fresh tomato, I have begun eating it in sandwiches again! I bought silver boots! I am currently listening to Taylor Swift! I meet people much younger and much older than me, and I realise that their ages aren’t the first thing to strike me in the face (unless they’re very self consciously youth performing, that annoys me).</p>
<p>But there’s one thing I realised I’m actually “too old” for. And that’s migrating social media platforms. X (Twitter) has died, and I’ve joined everything that sprung up in its place, your Bluesky, your Threads, your Mastodon, your Substack Notes. But try as I might I couldn’t get the platform/s to act exactly the way Twitter did, back when Twitter was a party. Back when it felt like you didn’t need to actually go outside to socialise, because you could do it online, and if you did go to an actual real-life party, it would be with other people who you followed and who followed you.</p>
<p>In 2019, I wrote <a href="https://www.joinpaperplanes.com/the-art-of-losing/">this little essay</a> for an online publication called Paper Planes. It was about time-specific nostalgia, how you missed a place in past tense. I find myself thinking about that today. I miss Twitter as it used to be, a few years ago (maybe five?) when you could say something and people would jump in and interact with you, and you had your “viral tweets” and your people sending screenshots of each other’s tweets on WhatsApp groups, it was an actual space, even though it was online.</p>
<p>I, more than anyone I know, know how real an online space can feel. I used to have a blog, it was a nice blog. I used to have a community. I mourned the end of that, but Twitter swiftly replaced it in a way Instagram couldn’t. Instagram was too polished, too many selfies. I was never that interested in my own face—it’s a nice enough face but eh, I get boringly obsessed if I look at it too often, I see my flaws and I start to think about them and it’s all so annoying, even if I’m telling myself I look pretty, what even <em>is</em> pretty, right? It’s a very dull conversation to have, even inside your own head—and I only took nice photos when I travelled, otherwise it was just cats and sofa and books and clothes. By contrast, I was tweeting all the time, any time I had a strikingly random thought. Such as:</p>
<p><em>Do cats understand dogs or is it like hearing Portuguese when you only speak Mandarin?</em></p>
<p><em>A FRIENDS-SATC mash-up where Carrie goes on a date with Chandler but his friends are the red flag for her. “I couldn’t help but wonder what kind of man wants to spend all his time with five other people all the time.”</em></p>
<p><em>Listening to an American speak German with a v thick American accent, wondering how come their accent stays the same between languages and Indian English sort of vanishes the longer you live abroad</em></p>
<p><em>Berlin hipster coffee shop with self service: I go to pay by card. "Oh," says the cashier, "You can select tip or no tip and then pay." His eyes look at me, waiting. Cowardly, I select "tip" for everything including collecting my own coffee & taking the dirty glasses back.</em></p>
<p><em>sending some of my best texting banter to people who respond with thumbs up emojis. (which is also a good metaphor for the state of my novels)</em></p>
<p><em>how does all the spiderman stuff get passed down genetically to spiderbaby? unless the spider recodes your dna or whatever.</em></p>
<p>See? I had good stuff there. Some of the above, I even tweeted hopefully, but most went unnoticed, one or two got a single like or one lonely retweet. I have a lot of followers (close to 10,000), I used to have a verified button, and now—crickets.</p>
<p>It feels like a loss. I even surprised myself by talking about the death of Twitter to my therapist the other day. It’s not something I would usually mention, a current-affairs-y thing. My sessions tend to be far more inside my head. <em>Deep</em> inside, like childhood memories and shit. But I began talking about Twitter, complaining about how I couldn’t spread the word about <em>anything</em> anymore, not my new novel, not my book launch and not my fleeting thoughts as I push through the world. I realised I was more upset about losing all this than I realised. Twitter was a writer’s social media more than anything else, and now it’s gone and with it, a tool that I depended on to find out I wasn’t alone.</p>
<p>It’s not just existential loneliness either. All writers these days are expected to sell their own books. Publicists and sales people will tell you that “word of mouth” is the only way to sell books these days, and those mouths are accounts with large followings. I emerge from writing, from inventing new people and new worlds and then I have to sell. “Look at me!” I have to say, “Here’s my new book! Please buy it! Please tell me I’m relevant!” And the problem with all of this playing out online is that you get very cynical about everything, which is the worst thing for your writing. I don’t mean that you can’t write with a certain ironic flair or be flippant or whatever, but you’ve got to believe in your own writing otherwise what’s the point? Instead you begin to “what’s the point” everything <em>else</em>, including your role in the world and your own self-worth. It’s awful and it’s killing any baby creative thoughts that might be creeping up inside your brain, getting ready to grow.</p>
<p>I had a book launch last week in this brand new city where I don’t know any publishers or media people or influencers. I had a small box of books I offered for sale at the event, a venue whose details I worked out a couple of weeks before with the people who run it and a tiny mailing list consisting of friends and acquaintances I’ve made over the past two years. I told my mum, “I’ll be happy if ten people come.” I was expecting six. I put a post up on my Instagram (mostly followers from India) and then considered Twitter. I follow a lot of random Berlin-based accounts on Twitter, just because they were suggested to me around the time of Elon’s great takeover that ruined everything (GTTRE). I used to think if I could see them, maybe they could see me, so whenever I tweeted about Berlin, I sat back, like a child with artwork, just waiting for them to discover me. They never did. I didn’t post about my book event on Twitter in the end. It went really well—about thirty people, the small room was full. It might’ve been a fluke, just good timing and curiosity and friendly people, but it was the first time I attempted something like this—in a new city! on the other side of the world!—without the help of a social media following.</p>
<p>The other day I got an email from a reader who had just bought my new book. She hit reply on an old thread we apparently had going, from the year 2007, back when I was an anonymous blogger and she had gotten in touch to ask what my first book was called and when it was going to be out. “Is this still you?” she asked.</p>
<p>It’s still me.</p>
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<p><strong>Currently re-reading:</strong> The Magicians trilogy by Lev Grossman, originally introduced to me by <a href="https://samit.substack.com/">bestie Samit Basu</a>, which also has a really good TV show based on it which I’ve also seen, but the books are so good that it feels like I’m reading them for the first time. Snarky adult Harry Potter meets Narnia meets millennial angst.</p>
<p><strong>Currently re-watching:</strong> Sex and The City because I finished re-watching Downton Abbey and this felt like the… logical? sequel. We also began watching a really fun sci-fi show called Counterpart, set in Berlin, starring JK Simmons. Everything seems like it’s set in Berlin these days.</p>
<p>If you’re searching for the link list, I have migrated those to their own issues.</p>
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<p>It seems that Substack is the last place we’ve got to talk to each other, so talk to me, tell me things from your life that are particularly interesting even if it’s just that you discovered two ladybirds mating in your balcony palm tree.</p>
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<p>xx</p>
<p>m</p>
<p><strong>Who are you?</strong> <em>Meenakshi Reddy Madhavan, writer of internet words (and other things) author of eight books (<a href="http://www.amazon.in/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=meenakshi+reddy+madhavan">support me by buying a book!)</a> and general city-potter-er.<br />
<br />
Follow me on <a href="http://instagram.com/decemberschild">Instagram</a>! (I have a special account for <a href="https://instagram.com/minnareads">book recommendations</a>)</em></p>
<p><em>Forward to your friends if you liked this and to news organisations who keep typing X (formerly known as Twitter) (we get it) if you didn’t.<br />
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Also, write back to me! I love to hear from you.</em></p>
eMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12716202062654957842noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7382033.post-67302659846186858062023-10-05T22:52:00.001+05:302023-10-05T22:52:29.119+05:30The Internet Personified: Thursday Link List<p><em>This is a free newsletter but you can support me by <a href="https://www.buymeacoffee.com/mrmwriteshttps://www.buymeacoffee.com/mrmwrites">buying me a coffee</a>!</em></p>
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<figcaption class="image-caption">From the British Library’s <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/britishlibrary/albums/page1">free-to-use online collection</a> of images on Flickr</figcaption>
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<p>My terrific terabytes,</p>
<p>I’ve had a busy week already—October 3rd was a holiday here for German reunification day and also a dear friend’s birthday, so we celebrated madly starting Saturday with a day time party at a club called about: blank. I don’t like techno music much (or staying up past my bedtime) (or spending a lot of money to enter a place where I’ll have to do two other things I don’t like) so this was ideal. The music was gentle, the entry was donation-based and we entered at 4 and left at 8 and were nicely in bed by 10.30. The ideal Saturday! Sadly, I’ve only discovered this concept much too late, it’s cold now and getting colder, so outdoor raves will soon have to be shelved till spring.</p>
<p>One thing it’s the perfect weather for is book launches! And so I’m DELIGHTED to announce a book party in Berlin next weekend, Friday the 13th (oooOOOooo). Tell your friends!</p>
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<p>However, we’ve had a string of Golden Days, warm sunshine with that particular light you only get when the days are getting shorter and everyone’s readying up for the cold. It was grey and gloomy all day today for instance, but now, nearly 5 pm, the sun has just come out and the skies are blue once more. I have my favourite writing playlist on (<a href="https://open.spotify.com/playlist/37i9dQZF1DXbm0dp7JzNeLhttps://open.spotify.com/playlist/37i9dQZF1DXbm0dp7JzNeL">this one</a>) and have just managed to finish the second draft of a short story I’ve been playing around with. And so, with a little time to play: onward to the links! (Remember to use <a href="http://12ft.io">12ft.io</a> if you’d like to bypass a paywall, works on most.)</p>
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<blockquote>
<p>“if you are the kind of person who wants to see the loyal, loving, trustworthy part of yourself in an animal, you will look to dogs. If you want to see out of the human world, into another world, where a different animal lives without these defining human needs, you will love cats.” In other words, loving a dog is like gazing into a particularly flattering mirror. Cat people look outwards, through a window into nature. - <strong>From: <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2023/oct/03/purring-parasites-and-pure-love-what-exactly-makes-someone-a-cat-person">Purring, parasites and pure love: what exactly makes someone a cat person?</a> (The Guardian)</strong></p>
</blockquote>
<p>Related (and also sent me into a rabbithole of researching having a pet rat)</p>
<blockquote>
<p>The rats teased the humans. They performed <em>freudensprung</em>, a German word that means “joy jumps.” They also emitted the kind of ultrasonic chirps that have been linked to what scientists dryly call “positive affective states.” (“You can say it’s laughter, but it’s not sounding really like human laughter,” says Sylvie Cloutier, an ethologist who pioneered research into rat tickling but was not involved in the hide-and-seek study. “They’re more like little happy chirps when you can hear them.”) After the experiment, and rather chillingly, the researchers euthanized the rats that played with humans in order to further study their brains. - <strong>From: <a href="https://hakaimagazine.com/features/in-defense-of-the-rat/https://hakaimagazine.com/features/in-defense-of-the-rat/https://hakaimagazine.com/features/in-defense-of-the-rat/">In Defense of the Rat</a> (Hakai Magazine)</strong></p>
</blockquote>
<p>And, okay, okay, not leaving dogs out</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Before a dog starts barking to express an urgent drive to go outside, they often have come in to check on us as we fixate on the computer, stare at us, nose-bump our leg, give a little whine, and, if none of these work, come out with a bark (all these levels of attention-getting can be seen in interaction between dogs too). If we would rather they not bark to talk, better that we be alert to that first attempt to communicate.- <strong>From: <a href="https://www.theatlantic.com/family/archive/2022/09/what-dogs-know-about-people/671454/">What do dogs know about us?</a> (Atlantic)</strong></p>
</blockquote>
<p>Animal link quota reached! On to the humans:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>There’s a huge difference between asking to reschedule a coffee date with a coworker pal, and telling your best friend you won’t be coming to their wedding next week. If you’re overly apologetic for a fairly minor cancellation (e.g., “I’m the absolute <em>worst.</em> Do you totally hate me? Can you ever forgive me?”), you run the risk of making your buddy feel like <em>they</em> need to comfort <em>you.</em> (It also just comes off as pretty insincere.) But being really casual and nonplussed about a kind of significant cancellation isn’t a good look either. If you’re tempted to overcompensate (or be rather dismissive), it might be because you’re actually feeling a bit vulnerable or uncomfortable about your choice. - <strong>From: <a href="https://www.self.com/story/canceling-plans">How to cancel plans without losing friends and feeling like a jerk</a> (Self)</strong></p>
</blockquote>
<p>I really enjoy Jessa Crispin’s newsletter.</p>
<blockquote>
<p>And despite men still drinking more than women, both in units of consumption and in the percentage of the population, and despite men also suffering from poor health effects and addiction rates from alcohol consumption, most of the new media attention on overconsumption of alcohol started to focus on women's problematic drinking. In the course of any day of my media diet, I see newspapers and magazines asking women over and over, “Are you drinking too much?” And if you answer with a panicked “I don't know!” you'll get hit with, “Well, buy this thing from us to find out.”- <strong>From: <a href="https://theculturewedeserve.substack.com/p/culture-digested-selling-sobrietyhttps://theculturewedeserve.substack.com/p/culture-digested-selling-sobriety">Selling Sobriety</a> (The Culture We Deserve)</strong></p>
</blockquote>
<p>Ziwe’s new book has been excerpted all over the place recently and it sounds amazing.</p>
<blockquote>
<p>This is a theme in my life. I share funny stories only to have my audience emphatically warn me never to repeat them. Here’s a funny story that is actually sad. To celebrate Grandparents’ Day, my second-grade teacher, Mrs. [REDACTED], asked her students to draw things that we liked to do with our grandparents. All of my grandparents were already dead, information that I politely relayed to my teacher, only for her to insist that I draw an image of what I would do with my grandparents if they were still alive. I drew a picture of four angels pushing me on a swing. I find this hilarious, though it’s a story that friends tell me not to repeat. And now it’s in print forever! <strong>- From: <a href="https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2023/09/25/best-foot-forward">Best Foot Forward</a> (The New Yorker)</strong></p>
</blockquote>
<p>Staying on the books theme with two related articles. First:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>I am a full generation younger than Lahiri, but my Indian America is not much more diverse. There are more of us now, but in aggregate, we remain relatively homogenous, and respectability politics remain prevalent within our communities. I encounter it everywhere. Once, at a conference for immigrants and children of immigrants — all recipients of a prestigious graduate school scholarship, thanks to our high achievement — an Indian American woman asked me something like: “Don’t you feel like you shouldn’t write ‘bad’ things about our minority community when there are already so many ‘bad’ narratives about us out there?” I heard a young Black writer ask a Pulitzer Prize-winning non-white author the same question at a talk, once; I’m asked it constantly by young, desi aspiring writers. <em>They</em> — the outside world — hardly know who <em>we</em> are, the question implies. Why would you show us at our worst? - <strong><a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2023/09/18/books/review/jhumpa-lahiri-and-me.html">From: Good Immigrant Novels</a> (The Drift Mag)</strong></p>
</blockquote>
<p>Second:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Another time, she tells us about her friend who does not have a shower in her apartment, writing, “Nell did not smell bad or have hair that was dirtier than any other hip young woman—as I’m sure you know by now, washing one’s hair too frequently strips it of vital natural oils, etc.—so I asked her how she was so clean.” The aside about washing one’s hair too often is the sort of thing that would be in a listicle, an Instagram reel, or a YouTube tutorial, which is why she assumes that we know about it. The narration is scattered with these sorts of irrelevant details that have nothing to do with…anything. They remind me of when I’m talking to someone and they say something for which we have no established basis: “I can’t believe [insert celebrity] died,” or “eating cured meats will raise your blood pressure.” What are you talking about? I want to ask these people. I don’t know this celebrity; I’m not even eating salami. Why do you assume that I will be aware of what you’re talking about without introducing it first? I feel like we are living in different worlds, and in a certain sense, I guess we are. In this regard, <em>Fake Accounts</em> is an effective account of a millennial consumed by the internet, but the question remains, does it work as a novel? - <strong>From: <a href="https://3quarksdaily.com/3quarksdaily/2023/09/against-the-internet-novel.htmlhttps://3quarksdaily.com/3quarksdaily/2023/09/against-the-internet-novel.htmlhttps://3quarksdaily.com/3quarksdaily/2023/09/against-the-internet-novel.htmlhttps://3quarksdaily.com/3quarksdaily/2023/09/against-the-internet-novel.html">Against the internet novel</a> ( 3 Quarks Daily)</strong></p>
</blockquote>
<p>I will read anything about Berlin, a new convert gobbling up the city, but this was particularly beautiful.</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Meanwhile, tonight the bridges in Kreuzberg and the gardens at the former Tempelhof airport—now a vast park littered with signs and monuments to past national atrocities and containing an American baseball field as a remnant of the former US Air Force base—will be filling up with youthful drinkers and women walking hand-in-hand with their Club-Mate bottles gleaming under the bright theatrical lights outside the Späti, or just creating an ad hoc techno party with a small wireless speaker in an illuminated bus shelter like figures out of Caravaggio. Our hosts’ Kiez near the old Wall offers this counterbalancing sense of liberated public space that is Berlin’s most endearing quality, a go-anywhere, do-anything, talk-to-everyone, dancing-on-the-abyss city with an intensely hedonistic and sexually frank twenty-four-hour vibe that isn’t fake-friendly (or even friendly at all, which also can be refreshing). Even in its expanding expat areas with brutal rents that vibe like Brooklyn East, Kreuzberg is a pretty ugly place where one feels it would be nice to live if one had the resources, but everyone tells us that this is just how things are in the summer. Locals describe how elbows and tongues sharpen in the ghastly gloom of winter at the point where the daylight ends in miserable darkness, with official sunset times before four p.m.- <strong>From <a href="https://www.benningtonreview.org/twelve-tyree">Delirious Berlin</a> (Bennington Review)</strong></p>
</blockquote>
<p>Small things I also liked:</p>
<p><a href="https://i-d.vice.com/en/article/ak3npe/millie-bobby-brown-nineteen-steps-review">A funny review</a> of Millie Bobby Brown’s new ghostwritten novel. ** The man who thinks he <a href="https://time.com/6315607/bryan-johnsons-quest-for-immortality/https://time.com/6315607/bryan-johnsons-quest-for-immortality/">can live forever</a>. ** Revolution on <a href="https://thebaffler.com/salvos/revolution-on-the-installment-plan-crispin">the installment plan</a>. *** <a href="https://www.robinrendle.com/essays/newsletters/https://www.robinrendle.com/essays/newsletters/">Against newsletters</a>. (I’ve been thinking of giving my almost defunct blog a makeover and turning it into a proper author website and I really like this one + the essay.)</p>
<p>And a video I loved, <em>Running Up That Hill</em> by Kate Bush in Medieval English.</p>
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<p>That’s all! Speak soon! Hopefully you live in Berlin and are coming for my launch!</p>
<p>xx</p>
<p>m</p>
eMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12716202062654957842noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7382033.post-53111766741650793472023-09-23T17:52:00.001+05:302023-09-23T17:52:13.300+05:30The Internet Personified: All The Tourism I Did With My Mother In Berlin RANKED!<p>Delicious doughnuts (or, as they’re known here: <em>pfannkuchens</em>, which translates into “pancakes” which is not a very descriptive word for a doughnut),</p>
<p>My mum left last week, and I have thrown myself back into writing—started and finished off a short story, began work on my novel again—mostly thanks to a new practice I’ve begun with a friend who lives close by. We agree to meet three times a week at our local library. where we set up with laptops and reading material and knock out work at a brisk two hour rate. I love my sun-filled glass aquarium of a study but I find being at home is so distracting that I’m not able to really sit down and focus. There’s always procrasti-cleaning, or procrast-cooking, or just catching up on books or TV atop our super comfortable sofa, a hand-me-down from K’s dad. (No, I’m serious, this might be the most comfortable sofa in the entire world and it is appropriately dull looking. K and I and the cats are always fighting for the best spots on it. It’s seriously fucking with my back.) So at home I’m doing some side art projects: this newsletter for one, and I’ve gotten back into painting and related activities, and also I’m thinking of taking up sewing, not in a “I made this myself!” way just yet, but more as a way of experimenting with how adding embroidery to tired old clothes—of which there are plenty available on assorted doorsteps and windowsills of people Marie Kondo-ing their lives—that I have many things to work with.</p>
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<div class="image2-inset"><picture><source type="image/webp" srcset="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_424,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F2f13694d-2cc5-47b5-9b8b-3b2f515d4275_1280x841.png 424w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_848,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F2f13694d-2cc5-47b5-9b8b-3b2f515d4275_1280x841.png 848w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1272,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F2f13694d-2cc5-47b5-9b8b-3b2f515d4275_1280x841.png 1272w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F2f13694d-2cc5-47b5-9b8b-3b2f515d4275_1280x841.png 1456w" sizes="100vw" /><img src="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F2f13694d-2cc5-47b5-9b8b-3b2f515d4275_1280x841.png" width="1280" height="841" data-attrs="{"src":"https://substack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com/public/images/2f13694d-2cc5-47b5-9b8b-3b2f515d4275_1280x841.png","srcNoWatermark":null,"fullscreen":null,"imageSize":null,"height":841,"width":1280,"resizeWidth":null,"bytes":2114510,"alt":null,"title":null,"type":"image/png","href":null,"belowTheFold":false,"topImage":true,"internalRedirect":null}" class="sizing-normal" alt="" srcset="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_424,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F2f13694d-2cc5-47b5-9b8b-3b2f515d4275_1280x841.png 424w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_848,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F2f13694d-2cc5-47b5-9b8b-3b2f515d4275_1280x841.png 848w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1272,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F2f13694d-2cc5-47b5-9b8b-3b2f515d4275_1280x841.png 1272w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F2f13694d-2cc5-47b5-9b8b-3b2f515d4275_1280x841.png 1456w" sizes="100vw" fetchpriority="high" /></picture>
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<figcaption class="image-caption">A collage I did with old public transport tickets. Am v into collages now, so I’m going to try a few more to experiment with.</figcaption>
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<figure><a class="image-link is-viewable-img image2" target="_blank" href="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F83b38ce1-7be9-4e7c-bdbf-c190d5df5fe3_1280x1280.png" data-component-name="Image2ToDOM">
<div class="image2-inset"><picture><source type="image/webp" srcset="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_424,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F83b38ce1-7be9-4e7c-bdbf-c190d5df5fe3_1280x1280.png 424w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_848,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F83b38ce1-7be9-4e7c-bdbf-c190d5df5fe3_1280x1280.png 848w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1272,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F83b38ce1-7be9-4e7c-bdbf-c190d5df5fe3_1280x1280.png 1272w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F83b38ce1-7be9-4e7c-bdbf-c190d5df5fe3_1280x1280.png 1456w" sizes="100vw" /><img src="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F83b38ce1-7be9-4e7c-bdbf-c190d5df5fe3_1280x1280.png" width="1280" height="1280" data-attrs="{"src":"https://substack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com/public/images/83b38ce1-7be9-4e7c-bdbf-c190d5df5fe3_1280x1280.png","srcNoWatermark":null,"fullscreen":null,"imageSize":null,"height":1280,"width":1280,"resizeWidth":null,"bytes":2077467,"alt":null,"title":null,"type":"image/png","href":null,"belowTheFold":false,"topImage":false,"internalRedirect":null}" class="sizing-normal" alt="" srcset="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_424,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F83b38ce1-7be9-4e7c-bdbf-c190d5df5fe3_1280x1280.png 424w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_848,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F83b38ce1-7be9-4e7c-bdbf-c190d5df5fe3_1280x1280.png 848w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1272,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F83b38ce1-7be9-4e7c-bdbf-c190d5df5fe3_1280x1280.png 1272w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F83b38ce1-7be9-4e7c-bdbf-c190d5df5fe3_1280x1280.png 1456w" sizes="100vw" /></picture>
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<figcaption class="image-caption">Sometimes when I watch TV, especially when it’s something I’ve seen before, I like to draw at the same time, just doodle really, not immersive art. I had done this portrait a few weeks before and I coloured it in with watercolours last week.</figcaption>
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<p>The good thing about this sort of thing is that it keeps your creative brain engaged but in a way that doesn’t feel like “work.” Writing is work, I mean, it’s amazing and I love it and I couldn’t live without it and so on, but I am often exhausted (and exhilarated if it’s gone well) after a session. Painting and such, it soothes me, gets me into a state where I’m thinking about other things but also working with my hands and seeing how colours and light fit together. It’s a hobby, and something I can do more easily than say, going for a run, which sounds awful.</p>
<p>Speaking of hobbies, I’ve also joined a new class: German language learning <em>with a twist.</em> Instead of a classroom structure with textbooks and grammar, it’s a theatre workshop for German learners. I attended my first one last week, and was a bit at sea because the instructor spoke very fast and everyone else seemed to be at the B1/B2 level of understanding because they all laughed along to her jokes and I was wondering whether to join in the laughter (I’m a joiner!) and pretend or sit there with a polite smile of not-understanding on my face. I chose the latter, the workshop went well, especially since I realised I wasn’t actually the weakest link in the bunch (competition is the only thing that puts the wind beneath my wings to learn something) and we did some fun exercises all of which I mostly understood! It’s on every Tuesday till January and we end with an actual performance which I have forbidden everyone except K from attending and which they have all assured me they will be coming for anyway.</p>
<p>And finally, in the last of my recent life updates (I’ve been extra busy, and something about summer turning into autumn is making me feel the opposite of everyone else: ie, extra energetic and organised. Summer is a lazy time) I’ve been organising a Berlin book event for <em>Soft Animal</em> along with the folk at a lovely new cultural space here for South Asians called <a href="http://instagram.com/_subkontinent">Subkontinent</a>. I’ll be in conversation with the wonderful S<a href="https://saskyajain.com/">askya Jain</a> and if you’re in Berlin and you’re reading this, come! Open to all on October 13th which is also a Friday so spooky VIBES.</p>
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<p>My mother and I did this city from top to bottom and we barely scratched the surface. But the nice thing about her staying for a month was that we could schedule some sort of walking tour (sometimes two) or a museum every week and feel like we’d done something between just chilling. Really <em>earning</em> our glasses of wine every evening, y’know? (Rose for me while the warm weather lasted, and she discovered the German sparkling wine very late in her trip but switched to that as soon as she did.)</p>
<p>All the tours were very nice and I’m ranking them here purely in terms of my <em>own</em> enjoyment as a resident of this city and not because they sucked in some other personal way. Also because I thought ranking would be fun and now I’m faced with this list and I’m like, “oh god why did I decide to do this you’re all so <em>nice</em>.”</p>
<p><strong>#8: Sansoucci Palace in Potsdam</strong>: Look, it’s not Sansoucci’s fault that we decided to visit on a Tuesday when most of it is closed and it’s very pretty and all, but honestly, once you’ve been to Jaipur most other palaces look pretty meh in comparison. Also we had just had a much more fulfilling hour at my friend’s film university which is close by and then I put my water bottle back in my purse without screwing the lid on tight and my mum’s phone got soaked so she was very upset about this and while the gardens were very pretty I feel like Tiergarten which is closer by (but lacks a palace) is also pretty. Also there was a French tourist on the train home who was rude and it all felt like Sansoucci’s fault even if it wasn’t. We just wandered around the gardens and sat on some rebuilt corridors before we left.</p>
<p><strong>#7: Urban Nation Museum:</strong> This is a nice museum full of street art and it’s <em>free</em> but I don’t think it’s worth taking a trip all the way into Schöneberg for it. (West. We are far East.) They had a cool film exhibition happening at their second gallery across the road which showed some pretty filters overlaid on top of short videos called “Berlin Haikus” and I was very inspired so I started to do short videos as well. (You can see all of them on my <a href="http://instagram.com/decemberschild">Instagram profile</a>.) As it happens, we combined this gallery with lunch about a half an hour walk away and then ended with a trip to the library on the way back so we got a lot accomplished.</p>
<p><strong>#6: Architecture tour of Horseshoe Estates</strong>: Berlin has an “open day” for practically everything and this was an open day of historical buildings and given how much K and I had enjoyed the architecture tour of the Barbican building in London, I thought this might be fun. Sadly, they had only very few options in English so I picked a guided tour of a small estate built by a guy called Bruno Taut who is a HUGE deal for architectural nerds. It's a really cool set of buildings with the main bit set out like a horseshoe (hence the name) but there’s only so much you can say about it so I felt like it was <em>slightly</em> repetitive. It makes it to number six, however, because it turned out K’s colleague and his partner lived there, in an old historical house which they’ve kept as close to the original as possible. Sitting in their garden and chatting was the best part and she turned out to be very much into Indian cooking, so much so that she was growing a giant karipatta tree and when I admired it, saying how much I missed my own plant back in Delhi, she gave me a sapling to take home with me. It’s doing very well here too and whenever I look at it, I think of that pleasant evening with pleasant people and the Horseshoe Estate sort of works its way in there as well.</p>
<p><strong>#5: Guided walk of the top tourist attractions</strong>: Coming in at a solid number five, and the only reason this isn’t ranked higher is because I already knew a lot of the history covered so this isn’t really a tour for people who have lived here for a few years but a nice way to do a quick brush-up of the top attractions; your Brandenburger Tor, your Memorial to the Murdered Jews and so on. Going by a friend’s recommendation, I picked <a href="https://www.neweuropetours.eu/sandemans-tours/berlin/free-tour-of-berlin/">Sandeman’s tours of Berlin</a> as our guide and the woman who led us was super energetic and funny and friendly, so I’d recommend these guys as well. (Free with a suggested tip of 10-15 euros at the end.) My biggest revelation on this tour is that the balcony from which Michael Jackson dangled his baby, Blanket, is right here in Berlin and also right next to the American Embassy. Who knew?</p>
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<div class="image2-inset"><picture><source type="image/webp" srcset="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_424,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F2da001fe-11ea-41e5-b329-d590b538812e_259x194.jpeg 424w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_848,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F2da001fe-11ea-41e5-b329-d590b538812e_259x194.jpeg 848w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1272,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F2da001fe-11ea-41e5-b329-d590b538812e_259x194.jpeg 1272w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F2da001fe-11ea-41e5-b329-d590b538812e_259x194.jpeg 1456w" sizes="100vw" /><img src="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F2da001fe-11ea-41e5-b329-d590b538812e_259x194.jpeg" width="501" height="375.26640926640925" data-attrs="{"src":"https://substack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com/public/images/2da001fe-11ea-41e5-b329-d590b538812e_259x194.jpeg","srcNoWatermark":null,"fullscreen":null,"imageSize":null,"height":194,"width":259,"resizeWidth":501,"bytes":null,"alt":"Random Hotel Rooms - MONDAY MOOD 😭 (DE) Berlin, Hotel Adlon Kempinski Berlin via Michael Jackson 🥂 #WouldYouDieHere #DontTryThisAtHome | Facebook","title":null,"type":null,"href":null,"belowTheFold":true,"topImage":false,"internalRedirect":null}" class="sizing-normal" alt="Random Hotel Rooms - MONDAY MOOD 😭 (DE) Berlin, Hotel Adlon Kempinski Berlin via Michael Jackson 🥂 #WouldYouDieHere #DontTryThisAtHome | Facebook" title="Random Hotel Rooms - MONDAY MOOD 😭 (DE) Berlin, Hotel Adlon Kempinski Berlin via Michael Jackson 🥂 #WouldYouDieHere #DontTryThisAtHome | Facebook" srcset="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_424,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F2da001fe-11ea-41e5-b329-d590b538812e_259x194.jpeg 424w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_848,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F2da001fe-11ea-41e5-b329-d590b538812e_259x194.jpeg 848w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1272,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F2da001fe-11ea-41e5-b329-d590b538812e_259x194.jpeg 1272w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F2da001fe-11ea-41e5-b329-d590b538812e_259x194.jpeg 1456w" sizes="100vw" loading="lazy" /></picture></div>
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<figcaption class="image-caption">Apparently, if you’d like to cosplay this moment and rent the same suite it’ll set you back about 20,000 euros or thereabouts.</figcaption>
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<p><strong>#4 Street Art Tour:</strong> Both my mum and I really enjoyed <a href="https://alternativeberlin.com/berlin-tours/street-art-tour/">this walk</a>. I’d done one with K back when we were just tourists here, in 2015 I think, and I thought it would be repetitive but I forgot that street art here is so temporary that every six months there’s a new piece to marvel at. My best part was asking our guide, who I made friends with and whose Feminism On The Streets workshop I attended last week, about the identity of a <a href="https://mrm.substack.com/p/armabersexy?utm_source=substack&utm_medium=email&utm_content=share">tag that I’ve been obsessed with</a>. They’ve gotten kind of quiet recently, I think they’ve retired. ANYWAY, she tells me that it’s not, in fact, a group of young women, rather an older MAN who is running around writing CLIT in places and this kind of ruined it for me tbh until I had the bright and comforting thought that maybe this old man is, in the manner of several old men, just trying to take credit for something young women are doing.</p>
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<figure><a class="image-link image2" target="_blank" href="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fbdccb8cd-7129-4237-9b06-6c0300d62ac3_259x194.jpeg" data-component-name="Image2ToDOM">
<div class="image2-inset"><picture><source type="image/webp" srcset="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_424,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fbdccb8cd-7129-4237-9b06-6c0300d62ac3_259x194.jpeg 424w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_848,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fbdccb8cd-7129-4237-9b06-6c0300d62ac3_259x194.jpeg 848w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1272,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fbdccb8cd-7129-4237-9b06-6c0300d62ac3_259x194.jpeg 1272w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fbdccb8cd-7129-4237-9b06-6c0300d62ac3_259x194.jpeg 1456w" sizes="100vw" /><img src="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fbdccb8cd-7129-4237-9b06-6c0300d62ac3_259x194.jpeg" width="411" height="307.8532818532818" data-attrs="{"src":"https://substack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com/public/images/bdccb8cd-7129-4237-9b06-6c0300d62ac3_259x194.jpeg","srcNoWatermark":null,"fullscreen":null,"imageSize":null,"height":194,"width":259,"resizeWidth":411,"bytes":null,"alt":"Awesome Graffiti Art On The Steem Blockchain \" The CLIT Studies- Vandalism On Its Purest \" — Steemit","title":null,"type":null,"href":null,"belowTheFold":true,"topImage":false,"internalRedirect":null}" class="sizing-normal" alt="Awesome Graffiti Art On The Steem Blockchain " The CLIT Studies- Vandalism On Its Purest " — Steemit" title="Awesome Graffiti Art On The Steem Blockchain " The CLIT Studies- Vandalism On Its Purest " — Steemit" srcset="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_424,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fbdccb8cd-7129-4237-9b06-6c0300d62ac3_259x194.jpeg 424w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_848,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fbdccb8cd-7129-4237-9b06-6c0300d62ac3_259x194.jpeg 848w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1272,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fbdccb8cd-7129-4237-9b06-6c0300d62ac3_259x194.jpeg 1272w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fbdccb8cd-7129-4237-9b06-6c0300d62ac3_259x194.jpeg 1456w" sizes="100vw" loading="lazy" /></picture></div>
</a>
<figcaption class="image-caption">Not my photo but see how joyful.</figcaption>
</figure>
</div>
<p>#<strong>3: Long Night of Museums</strong>: This was definitely a once-in-a-lifetime experience, in that I’m really glad we did it but I’m not sure I’d do it again. We trotted around from 6 pm to 1.30 am and we were exhausted and barely managed to see five museums, out of which two (Humboldt Forum and Futurium) were already free, so did we get full bang for our collective bucks? I’m not sure. Something about being in a museum at night is fun though, a festive atmosphere even if you are one amongst hundreds going to the <a href="https://bmm-charite.de/en">Charité Medical Museum</a> and gazing at their collection of fetuses in formaldehyde, truly realising in that moment how much we all like to rubberneck, as the crowd in front of you is three people deep already and you never get close enough to the medical marvels to breathe out at them and watch your breath fog the glass between you.</p>
<p><strong>#2: Berlinische Galerie</strong>: Which is a cool modern art museum which just <em>happened</em> to be having an exhibition called <a href="https://berlinischegalerie.de/en/exhibition/art-in-berlin-1880-1980/">Art In Berlin from 1880 to 1980</a>. It was really well done and I enjoyed going from room to room, seeing them all laid out chronologically and seeing how art responded to the current circumstances of the city. I’d never been to the Berlinische Galerie before so it was all new to me. The only bum note is that it was overrun with teenagers, who were there on a class project or something and oh my god, no sooner did I find a quiet spot to look at what was around me than the room would be invaded by literally <em>dozens</em> of them. Youths!</p>
<div class="captioned-image-container">
<figure><a class="image-link is-viewable-img image2" target="_blank" href="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fe5855fb2-ad19-4cb5-bb61-761e223f53b3_612x473.jpeg" data-component-name="Image2ToDOM">
<div class="image2-inset"><picture><source type="image/webp" srcset="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_424,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fe5855fb2-ad19-4cb5-bb61-761e223f53b3_612x473.jpeg 424w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_848,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fe5855fb2-ad19-4cb5-bb61-761e223f53b3_612x473.jpeg 848w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1272,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fe5855fb2-ad19-4cb5-bb61-761e223f53b3_612x473.jpeg 1272w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fe5855fb2-ad19-4cb5-bb61-761e223f53b3_612x473.jpeg 1456w" sizes="100vw" /><img src="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fe5855fb2-ad19-4cb5-bb61-761e223f53b3_612x473.jpeg" width="612" height="473" data-attrs="{"src":"https://substack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com/public/images/e5855fb2-ad19-4cb5-bb61-761e223f53b3_612x473.jpeg","srcNoWatermark":null,"fullscreen":null,"imageSize":null,"height":473,"width":612,"resizeWidth":null,"bytes":null,"alt":"Angry Old Woman With Brokendown Car Shakes Her Fists Stock Photo - Download Image Now - iStock","title":null,"type":null,"href":null,"belowTheFold":true,"topImage":false,"internalRedirect":null}" class="sizing-normal" alt="Angry Old Woman With Brokendown Car Shakes Her Fists Stock Photo - Download Image Now - iStock" title="Angry Old Woman With Brokendown Car Shakes Her Fists Stock Photo - Download Image Now - iStock" srcset="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_424,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fe5855fb2-ad19-4cb5-bb61-761e223f53b3_612x473.jpeg 424w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_848,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fe5855fb2-ad19-4cb5-bb61-761e223f53b3_612x473.jpeg 848w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1272,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fe5855fb2-ad19-4cb5-bb61-761e223f53b3_612x473.jpeg 1272w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fe5855fb2-ad19-4cb5-bb61-761e223f53b3_612x473.jpeg 1456w" sizes="100vw" loading="lazy" /></picture>
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<figcaption class="image-caption">Literally me.</figcaption>
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<p><strong>#1 Guided Walk of Tempelhof Airport</strong>: Despite the fact that I had woken up really early that morning to go to the Indian Embassy to have my passport renewed and <em>then</em> realised I didn’t have the right format photo and <em>then</em> foolishly decided to walk to get new ones taken thereby not conserving my energy which meant halfway through the walk my body was done, especially since our guide kept leaping through hallways and darting up staircases expecting us to follow, <a href="https://www.thf-berlin.de/en/your-visit/guided-tourshttps://www.thf-berlin.de/en/your-visit/guided-tourshttps://www.thf-berlin.de/en/your-visit/guided-tours">this</a> was such a good walk. Imagine the eeriness of an abandoned airport plus all the cool history that goes into it. Tempelhofer Feld, the large park in front of the old airport building, is so much a part of Berlin’s cultural experience that hearing about the airport, actually seeing inside it, was so cool.</p>
<p>I think I’m happy with these rankings, which I’m also sending to you all because I get a lot of messages about what to do in Berlin so save this, come visit!</p>
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<p><strong>Currently reading:</strong> Vacillating between two excellent (but different) books from both my libraries. <em>Transit</em> by Rachel Cusk sits on my desk and I read with my coffee or when I’m waiting for my laptop to restart. I’m reading her like a writing manual, so much of what she’s managing to achieve with simple sentences is what I’d like my writing to do as well. So I’m poking at the structure, as it were, and seeing how it holds up.</p>
<p>On my coffee table is <em>Cloud Cuckoo Land</em> by Anthony Doerr (is that DOYER or Do-er?) which I just began this morning and which I have already consumed the first quarter of.</p>
<p>And on my bedside is my Kindle because I like to turn off the lights and read in the dark till my eyes get heavy. There I’m reading Jane Harper’s <em>Force of Nature</em> which is an Australian murder mystery. Lovely.</p>
<p><strong>Currently watching</strong>: <em>Downton Abbey</em>, and this time I have sucked K into it so we are BOTH enthralled.</p>
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<p>If you enjoyed this newsletter or any of my others, please <a href="https://buymeacoffee.com/mrmwrites">buy me a coffee</a>! It’s not much and it keeps the lights on (in my heart as well as in real life.)</p>
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<p>Looking for the link list? I’ve shifted it to a weekly round-up instead. ICYMI, the first edition is here.</p>
<div class="digest-post-embed" data-attrs="{"nodeId":"80f2fe36-7a20-4413-b337-b46557bf4d32","caption":"Hello my darling dolphins! Starting this week, I’m doing a new thing which is retiring my regular links at the bottom of each post and instead putting them all into one glorious edition which I will attempt to send you once a week (the day might vary and also depending on the week, some weeks are slow—for me, I have v specific interests—so it might also …","size":"lg","isEditorNode":true,"title":"The Internet Personified: Monday Link List","publishedBylines":[{"id":10749,"name":"Meenakshi Reddy Madhavan","bio":"Indian woman of letters. I write books (& other things) from Berlin. I used to blog, but now I send this newsletter out instead. ","photo_url":"https://bucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com/public/images/8904fa54-1764-4dee-a457-ff460d3fece3_400x400.jpeg","is_guest":false,"bestseller_tier":null}],"post_date":"2023-09-18T11:23:02.704Z","cover_image":"https://substack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com/public/images/9b15ff97-5735-4404-a772-ed52380f21fa_220x192.jpeg","cover_image_alt":null,"canonical_url":"https://mrm.substack.com/p/the-internet-personified-monday-link","section_name":null,"id":137142498,"type":"newsletter","reaction_count":3,"comment_count":2,"publication_name":" The Internet: Personified ","publication_logo_url":"https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F354f7acd-eeb8-4f2e-acff-27e061d8d7bf_256x256.png","belowTheFold":true}"></div>
<p>Have a great week!</p>
<p>xx</p>
<p>m</p>
<p><strong>Who are you?</strong> <em>Meenakshi Reddy Madhavan, writer of internet words (and other things) author of seven books (<a href="http://www.amazon.in/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=meenakshi+reddy+madhavan">support me by buying a book!)</a> and general city-potter-er.<br />
<br />
Follow me on <a href="http://twitter.com/reddymadhavan">Twitter</a>, <a href="http://facebook.com/thecompulsiveconfessor">Facebook</a> and <a href="http://instagram.com/decemberschild">Instagram</a>. (Plus my <a href="https://instagram.com/minnareads">book recommendation</a> Instagram!)</em></p>
<p><em>Forward to your friends if you liked this and to people convinced Berlin’s only culture is clubbing if you didn’t.<br />
<br />
Also, write back to me! I love to hear from you.</em></p>
eMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12716202062654957842noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7382033.post-65452299589923767042023-09-18T18:52:00.001+05:302023-09-18T18:52:35.805+05:30The Internet Personified: Monday Link List<p>Hello my darling dolphins!</p>
<p>Starting this week, I’m doing a new thing which is <em>retiring</em> my regular links at the bottom of each post and instead putting them all into one glorious edition which I will attempt to send you once a week (the day might vary and also depending on the week, some weeks are slow—for me, I have v specific interests—so it might also be a ten day thing). This is because even though my open rate is super high (yay us!) not that many of you are clicking on the links. Maybe it’s because my essays are too long? Maybe you think you’ll come back to them and don’t? WHO KNOWS.</p>
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<figure><a class="image-link image2" target="_blank" href="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fa10cf86e-cd7a-4478-9e25-138dec395b4d_220x192.jpeg" data-component-name="Image2ToDOM">
<div class="image2-inset"><picture><source type="image/webp" srcset="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_424,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fa10cf86e-cd7a-4478-9e25-138dec395b4d_220x192.jpeg 424w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_848,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fa10cf86e-cd7a-4478-9e25-138dec395b4d_220x192.jpeg 848w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1272,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fa10cf86e-cd7a-4478-9e25-138dec395b4d_220x192.jpeg 1272w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fa10cf86e-cd7a-4478-9e25-138dec395b4d_220x192.jpeg 1456w" sizes="100vw" /><img src="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fa10cf86e-cd7a-4478-9e25-138dec395b4d_220x192.jpeg" width="324" height="282.76363636363635" data-attrs="{"src":"https://substack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com/public/images/a10cf86e-cd7a-4478-9e25-138dec395b4d_220x192.jpeg","srcNoWatermark":null,"fullscreen":null,"imageSize":null,"height":192,"width":220,"resizeWidth":324,"bytes":17958,"alt":null,"title":null,"type":"image/jpeg","href":null,"belowTheFold":false,"topImage":true,"internalRedirect":null}" class="sizing-normal" alt="" srcset="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_424,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fa10cf86e-cd7a-4478-9e25-138dec395b4d_220x192.jpeg 424w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_848,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fa10cf86e-cd7a-4478-9e25-138dec395b4d_220x192.jpeg 848w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1272,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fa10cf86e-cd7a-4478-9e25-138dec395b4d_220x192.jpeg 1272w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fa10cf86e-cd7a-4478-9e25-138dec395b4d_220x192.jpeg 1456w" sizes="100vw" fetchpriority="high" /></picture></div>
</a>
<figcaption class="image-caption">literally me reading the internet every morning with all my tabs open</figcaption>
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<p>I personally LOVE link round-ups, I subscribe to several newsletters that do the same thing, so here we go, for fellow aficionados, and everyone else, I have a long thing lined up for this week as well, so you can ignore this and just wait for the next.</p>
<p>And if you can’t read past the paywall, use <a href="http://12ft.io">12 feet</a>, which usually works for most things.</p>
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<ul>
<li>
<p><strong><a href="https://www.theguardian.com/technology/2023/aug/31/fish-doorbells-historic-sandwiches-50-of-the-weirdest-most-wonderful-corners-of-the-web-picked-by-an-expert">50 of the weirdest corners of the web</a>:</strong> As advertised: a list of the “weirdest” corners of the internet, which aren’t <em>weird</em> so much as <em>slightly obscure</em>. Radiooo is on it, which is a website I enjoy.</p>
</li>
<li>
<p><strong><a href="https://3quarksdaily.com/3quarksdaily/2023/09/a-writer-attends-the-frankfurt-book-fair.html">A writer attends the Frankfurt Book Fair</a></strong>: Two words: “yikes” and “don’t.”</p>
</li>
<li>
<p><strong><a href="https://www.si.com/betting/2023/09/15/fake-indian-cricket-league-daily-cover">The wild quest to invent a fake Indian Cricket League</a>:</strong> Do you remember this story from a few years ago where a bunch of people in a random Indian village pretended like they were in a big stadium and played fake matches which they streamed? The real story is a lot more murky.</p>
</li>
<li>
<p><strong><a href="https://www.eater.com/23819117/orange-egg-yolk-fetish-farm-to-table-locavore-virtue-marketing">Orange is the new yolk</a>:</strong> On why we like our eggs to look a certain way. My best line from the article was this one: “Egg carton marketing, which is at best opaque and at worst a pernicious lie, would have us believe that the hens who imparted these eggs to the bourgeois grocery shopping class are twirling through pastoral fields like Maria in <em>The Sound of Music.”</em></p>
</li>
<li>
<p>One big article about how <strong><a href="https://www.thecut.com/article/adult-friendships-vs-kids.html">this woman’s friends’ babies</a></strong> were ruining their relationship which maybe weren’t that strong to begin with and a <strong><a href="https://youngna.substack.com/p/10-critiques-about-that-nymag-piece">nice measured response</a>.</strong> Anyway, I feel like this skews very much US, since I haven’t faced the same problems in India and in Germany, kids are just brought along to gatherings as a matter of course.</p>
</li>
<li>
<p><strong><a href="https://www.commonsense.news/p/hurts-so-good">Hurts so good</a>:</strong> On why so many young women were using their chronic illnesses as a way to get likes on TikTok and similar.</p>
</li>
<li>
<p><strong><a href="https://www.guernicamag.com/la-dolce-vita/">La Dolce Vita</a>:</strong> And my favourite read of the week, an apprentice chef works in a “home style” kitchen in Italy and learns many things. This story has all the tones of a coming of age movie set in the summer, complete with a plucky heroine.</p>
<p>That’s what I’ve got! If you liked this issue or any of my others, please <a href="https://www.buymeacoffee.com/mrmwrites">buy me a coffee</a>. Your support is the wind beneath my wings etc.</p>
</li>
</ul>
<p>Of course, chime in with your own recs in the comment section.</p>
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<p>Have a great week! See you v soon in your inboxes with more regular programming.</p>
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<p>xx</p>
<p>m</p>
eMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12716202062654957842noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7382033.post-12247676921530576422023-08-30T20:53:00.001+05:302023-08-30T20:53:39.504+05:30The Internet Personified: Generation Why<p>My lovely Legos,</p>
<p>My mother—as I mentioned in the last letter I sent you—has been visiting me these past few weeks. The first ten days I took her around the city (and sidebar: I don’t know what they were fed as children in that generation because she was <em>still</em> going strong and I was <em>always</em> tired.) This week, today thanks to a miserable rainy day, a dinner party we had last night and my need and desire to spend time doing things like washing my hair (it takes all day to dry and these days I am using a hair mask so it’s a whole process) and writing this and reading a cozy murder mystery and watching TV. (Try and get your hands on <em>The Middle,</em> a wholesome family sitcom which is actually laugh out loud funny even upon rewatch and is surprisingly positive despite all the negative things that keep happening to the family. It is a <em>treat</em>, I promise) she’s gone out by herself. This was several hours ago, but to be fair, she picked a very “talky” museum. (The Topography of Terror, which is a great place to start with the Nazi history here, just putting it all into context, but incredibly depressing, especially if you’re coming from India.) I wrote down directions for her because she’s refusing to get a local SIM (“I’ll just ask people!” she says, but Asking People is my biggest phobia so I’m amazed that anyone can do it with ease) and told her what to do if she gets lost, and all in all, behaved like an overbearing parent trying to keep control of their wayward <em>child</em> or something. We’re both much too young for the burden of care to be reversed! (Young at heart anyway.) Anyway, there comes a time when your mother visits you in your new life in Berlin that you must learn to let go and trust that as an actual adult woman who has lived a life without you for several years before you came along into the world that she’ll manage on her own.</p>
<p>When I went to the airport to pick her up, I took along a book (obvs) but soon was only holding it in my lap as I unabashedly gawped at all the people around me. There was a brother waiting for his sibling, who had been waiting <em>forever</em>, it seemed like, and when the other brother finally emerged, the two didn’t even wait to cross the security barrier, they just reached out across it and held each other, one weeping very quietly. Later, I saw them embracing once more, bags at their feet. The older brother was saying something very softly, the younger was looking a bit sheepish but not ashamed of his affection. (I know they were brothers and not lovers because I heard the one picking up tell the security guard so.)</p>
<p>Then there was another family, children and young adults and grown ups and parents, all waiting under a large banner they were holding up that said, “Happy Birthday!” They too were waiting ages, but they didn’t seem to mind, the kids skipping about in glee, the adults casually chatting under their banner. I did get to see the Birthday Person, a woman with a large backpack who looked like she had been travelling for months, and as soon as she approached them, everyone burst out singing.</p>
<p>Then there was a mixed race family, a German man and his Asian wife (if I had to guess, I’d say Vietnamese?) with two small children. An older lady received them and the kids went barrelling towards her, shouting, “Oma! Oma!”</p>
<p>Whenever I was making the leg back and forth to India in the last year, I was always surrounded by grandparents. Tens of older Indian couples, making their first visit overseas to see children settled abroad, and in many cases, grandchildren born there as well. In 2022, the year post second waves and vaccinations, I think grandparents travelled more than they ever had. I’m on a couple of Indians in Berlin groups (terrible for the most part, but I lurk) and most of them recommend that you book a wheelchair service for your parents even if they don’t need it, because someone will wheel them all the way to the plane and help them with paperwork and so on. Of course, once they land on foreign soil, this service is no longer free, so you see lots of them just lost or huddled together. I helped a lady who spoke no Hindi or English (Telugu, but my Telugu was too rusty to communicate with) fill out her landing form on the plane, I showed another how her internet worked. I couldn’t protect them though, they shrunk inside their saris or dhoti-kurtas, looking befuddled at the unfamiliar languages, waiting for their children to appear and whisk them away.</p>
<p>My mother is nothing like these Visiting Grandparents though. She’s quite confident and has been travelling for years, so I wasn’t worried that she’d get fazed by signs or paperwork. I worried slightly that German immigration might be rude (once, in Frankfurt, <em>before</em> passport control, a random border police official met our plane as soon as it landed and made all of us show our passports before we could actually, you know, <em>go into the airport</em>. There was a lady with a face covering in front of me and he kept trying to tell her to put on her face mask, and she wasn’t understanding him because she didn’t speak the language and kept pointing at her scarf and meanwhile he moved on to the next person in line, so she took the escalator up and he literally shouted after her, “AM I SPEAKING CHINESE? PUT ON YOUR FACE MASK.” I was fresh from India where everyone is so <em>nice</em> to you as soon as you land, no one would even dream of yelling at an older woman like that so I was completely shocked. Later, I caught up with her, she looked so puzzled, and using my hands, I indicated a face mask and using hers, she said she didn’t have any, and a lady watching produced a spare out of her bag and the matter was solved instantly and peacefully.) but I’m pretty sure my mother can handle rudeness better than I can. (As it turned out, “everyone was lovely” and she made a bunch of friends on the plane.)</p>
<p>I don’t know at what age we start to believe we are smarter than the generation before us. Any time travel movie will attest to this: everyone in the 50s and 40s was a dumb yokel, impossibly naive, innocent in the way of animals. Even their crimes are ham-fisted, say you have to stop a 1950s serial killer, you already <em>know</em> everything the killer doesn’t, he is evil but like an evil child, you are the grown up who knows everything. This also applies to things set far into the future where they talk about things like “once we had books” or “once we had trees” and you feel very wise because you have books <em>and</em> trees. I saw a great tweet the other day (which sadly I can’t find any more because the site is crap and I didn’t save it and Google isn’t throwing it up) which said, “We can never time travel back to World War I because we’ll keep calling it World War <em>One.</em>”</p>
<p>Of course, Gen Z simultaneously thinks we’re old and also worries that <em>they’re</em> old because Gen Alpha (kids born post 2011—HOW ARE THEY OLD ENOUGH TO MATTER ARGH) <a href="https://www.insider.com/skibidi-toilet-gen-z-alpha-memes-internet-culture-outdated-old-2023-7">has references</a> that they don’t understand. Meanwhile I’m walking around seeing kids wearing LITERALLY EXACTLY what I used to wear in my teens: tight tank tops, baggy jeans, straightened hair, Avril Lavigne eye makeup. I walk into a thrift store and somehow Y2K fashion is vintage??? We gave our friend a bag from our favourite local vintage store and the guy said it was from the 90s, which is also, apparently “vintage” these days. I’m old enough to own clothes that I bought new once and for them to have become vintage. I’m old enough that I still type out texts and messages with one forefinger, the other hand cupping my phone as a stand, instead of holding it up in front of me and using both my thumbs. (Sometimes I do this as well, but it feels… counterintuitive.) I was showing our cat-sitter how the TV works, and I suddenly realised she may not know how a non-smart TV turns on to use the HDMI cable. (She didn’t. I had to walk her through the “source” button and other such sundries.) I’m okay with this—I’m an elderly millennial after all, I’m ready for the whippersnappers to take over and do all the shit we used to do in our twenties. I’m not ready to be <em>obsolete</em>, but luckily I haven’t come into contact with any condescending twenty somethings yet. My friends who work in hiring positions often bitch and moan about Gen Z’s lack of professional ethics and it makes me laugh a little because I’m sure Gen X and the Boomers bitched and moaned about us. (Okay, not Gen X, you’re a lost generation, I feel for you.) It’s also nice to see more and more young women in Delhi wearing exactly what they want, but a little gratitude for the path we laid before you came along would be <em>nice</em>, y’know? (She says like an ancient feminist. Remember your foremothers!)</p>
<p>Remember when we were the youngest and the coolest people on the planet? Me neither.</p>
<p>Anyway. What was I talking about? Oh yes, thinking we know more than the generations preceding us. I think in my case it’s purely a technology thing. Because I am better at the internet than my parents, I believe it gives me <em>keys</em> to the <em>modern world</em> and so on. And I get afraid that without these keys they’ll get lost.</p>
<p>Berlin now has so many Indians, I think in 2022 alone, 17,000 Indians moved to the German capital. It’s such a radical rise in numbers that even in the two years I’ve been here, this year has felt fuller. And with young Indians moving here, their parents coming to visit them aren’t far behind. All summer I’ve been watching couples or single people shepherding around a set of parents (but usually just one parent, maybe more people move here whose parents are separated or maybe the parents take turns?). Usually, if there’s two grandparents, there’s also a small child, focus of the group, in his large buggy, the foreign grandchild drawing everyone together. Unlike the United States, however, you are not automatically considered German just because you were born here. One or both of your parents either has to have been living here for eight years or be a German citizen. So the babies are (probably) just as Indian as I am, their first years just look different from mine. (I looked this up because I started thinking of my American cousins, who were born in the US, but whose parents still have Indian citizenship. Truly Global Grandchildren.)</p>
<p>Of course, we have no children, so my mother’s visit here has looked different from childcare and watching the generations move on and so forth. She wants to see <em>everything</em>, so we have trotted from biergartens to museums, guided tours to walks of our neighbourhood. We sat by the side of a canal and people watched and we went shopping to a mall and had a cup of coffee and a slice of strawberry cake on top of an old East German department store. We took the regional train with a friend down to her friend’s datcha and we swam in a lake. The end of summer golden days lasted till the end of last week and we made the most of them.</p>
<p>My mum is still here for another two weeks, and now she’s confident about going out on her own, plus it seems like Summer Lethargy has given way to Autumn Organisation because suddenly I have plans to make, people to meet and so on. It was nice that she got to see both sides of my life—the easygoing and the slightly more scheduled—always nice when people we love are able to enter our worlds.</p>
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<p>It’s hard to get into a new book when you’re still championing your last, but <em>Soft Animal</em> must now make its own fate. When I return to India in January or similar of next year, I’ll do some readings, some signings (maybe some festivals) and essentially, what I can to spread the word, but it’s not in my hands any more. The book is in the world, you hope it’ll find readers, but there’s only so much I can do. (The reviews have either been wonderful or baffling, I’m still thinking about one random one that said the critic didn’t like the book because it wasn’t about a dog rescuing a woman. Um…) (Here is a <a href="https://www.thehindu.com/books/book-review-soft-animal-meenakshi-reddy-madhavan-covid-lockdown-marriage-breakdown-story/article67209309.ece">very nice one</a> in <em>The Hindu</em> and another <a href="https://scroll.in/article/1051246/soft-animal-a-rare-novel-about-womanhood-and-the-unmaking-of-a-marriage-during-the-lockdown">in</a> <em><a href="https://scroll.in/article/1051246/soft-animal-a-rare-novel-about-womanhood-and-the-unmaking-of-a-marriage-during-the-lockdown">Scroll</a></em> and <a href="https://www.newindianexpress.com/lifestyle/books/2023/jul/23/soft-animal-book-review-privilege-paradox-2596839.html">a third</a> in <em>The New Indian Express.)</em> I’m organising a little Berlin book event soon, so if you’re in the city around the end of September, let me know and I’ll send you details as soon as I have them.</p>
<p>Meanwhile, if you’d like to buy a copy, a reminder that the book is available online and if it’s <em>not</em> at your favourite local bookstore, you just have to ask them to order a copy for you.</p>
<p class="button-wrapper" data-attrs="{"url":"https://www.amazon.in/dp/0143454471?ref_=cm_sw_r_mwn_dp_1Y2BJDEQEHQ3S5H91517","text":"Buy Soft Animal online","action":null,"class":null}" data-component-name="ButtonCreateButton"><a class="button primary" href="https://www.amazon.in/dp/0143454471?ref_=cm_sw_r_mwn_dp_1Y2BJDEQEHQ3S5H91517"><span>Buy Soft Animal online</span></a></p>
<p>Which reminds me: the poll results were not super encouraging to starting a subscription tier for this project but I don’t know, I have such good ideas! I might try it anyhow (or some version of it) and you guys that voted yes can enjoy that bit and the rest of you can also enjoy the free letters that I’ll send out every now and then. Win-win! I appreciate <em>all</em> of your support over the years and I’m really glad you’ve stuck this out with me.</p>
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<p><strong>Currently reading:</strong> <em>The Marlow Murder Club</em> by Robert Thorogood, another series about unlikely friends and a little old lady solving murders and crossword puzzles. I love the aged detective (see: Miss Marple) but must we be so <em>precious</em> about it? Treat old people like people and not like dogs you’ve dressed up in coats and hats and now you can’t stop pointing it out: <em>look! it’s a dog! in a coat and a hat!</em></p>
<p><em>A Flicker In The Dark</em> by Stacy Willingham which was absorbing enough, but whose twist I guessed about a quarter of the way through and I only kept reading to see if I was correct. I think I’ve read too many murder mysteries, I’m guessing everything.</p>
<p><strong>Currently watching:</strong> Our public library has an online streaming app called Filmfriend which has a bunch of movies all arranged in curated collections, many of which are in English or with English subtitles so we’re having regular movie nights at home. Outside home we finally watched <em>Tar</em>, which was incredible.</p>
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<p>B<strong>-LINK AND YOU’LL MISS IT! (No, not a great pun, but still here are some good stories I read online)</strong></p>
<p>Naomi Klein is <a href="https://12ft.io/proxy?q=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.vanityfair.com%2Fnews%2F2023%2F08%2Fnaomi-klein-naomi-wolf-bookhttps://12ft.io/proxy?q=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.vanityfair.com%2Fnews%2F2023%2F08%2Fnaomi-klein-naomi-wolf-book">tired of people thinking</a> she’s Naomi Wolf.</p>
<p>The <a href="https://www.newstatesman.com/culture/books/2023/08/trauma-publishing-novel">trauma of publishing</a> a novel.</p>
<p>The battle between <a href="https://www.washingtonian.com/2023/08/24/the-battle-between-diners-and-restaurants-bad-service-rude-customers-and-confusing-fees/">diners and restaurants</a>. (very US-centric, but an interesting read.)</p>
<p>The <a href="https://shalomauslander.substack.com/p/the-dangers-of-substack-for-the-chronicallyhttps://shalomauslander.substack.com/p/the-dangers-of-substack-for-the-chronicallyhttps://shalomauslander.substack.com/p/the-dangers-of-substack-for-the-chronically">dangers of Substack</a> for the chronically low self esteemed.</p>
<p><a href="https://lithub.com/on-the-difficulty-of-getting-rid-of-books/https://lithub.com/on-the-difficulty-of-getting-rid-of-books/">On the difficulty</a> of getting rid of books.</p>
<p>Inside <a href="https://lithub.com/endlessly-fascinating-but-rarely-observed-inside-the-hidden-world-of-cockroaches/https://lithub.com/endlessly-fascinating-but-rarely-observed-inside-the-hidden-world-of-cockroaches/">the hidden world</a> of cockroaches.</p>
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<p>Have a great week!</p>
<p>xx</p>
<p>m</p>
<p><strong>Who are you?</strong> <em>Meenakshi Reddy Madhavan, writer of internet words (and other things) author of seven books (<a href="http://www.amazon.in/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=meenakshi+reddy+madhavan">support me by buying a book!)</a> and general city-potter-er.<br />
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eMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12716202062654957842noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7382033.post-5328615961463239062023-08-15T17:50:00.001+05:302023-08-15T17:50:52.670+05:30The Internet Personified: Missing<p>Dearest Mighty Microorganisms,</p>
<p>I left Berlin a few weeks ago around the same time the girl went missing. She had been gone for 48 hours, her friends said, it was very unlike her, especially since she had left her apartment unlocked and her belongings inside. This was on a Facebook group I’d joined but never participated in. The only reason I’m still on Facebook any more is the groups, I belong to so many, and as Twitter and Instagram get more and more boring, the only source of internet drama I have is Facebook Groups, people generally tend to mock and berate more than they help. A recent example:</p>
<p>“Hey, can anyone give me a ride to the airport, I have four bags?”</p>
<p>Followed by: “why can’t you take a taxi?”</p>
<p>“Take the airport train, I’ve done it loads of times carrying my entire house with me.”</p>
<p>And so on. It seems that the lure of FB groups is if you can’t answer a question with yes or no, you must offer unsolicited advice.</p>
<p>So, the missing girl’s poster was posted on the group with a plea from her friend, “We’re worried about her!” the friend said. You see missing posters all over the city, mostly for dogs and cats but sometimes people. It’s surprisingly easy to vanish in this city, especially if you’re young and not used to having complete and absolute freedom with a thriving club subculture and drugs and alcohol available freely. It’s so easy to slip between the cracks. That’s what most people come to the city for—to party their nights away, to stand in line for Berghain and go to fetish clubs and hook up and dance to dirty techno and postpone sleep forever until you haven’t sat down since Friday evening and it’s early Monday morning now, the bored employees are ushering you out and cleaning up around you. A friend visiting told us about how early in the morning he and a few straggling clubbers all spied one sofa placed outside this club for people to rest before they left, and they all clocked it at the same time and each made a rush for it, but they were so shattered after their revelry that they could only move in slow motion, and someone else made it there first.</p>
<p>And so said the comments on the Facebook post. “She’s probably just out partying,” said many people dismissively, “She forgot her phone at home and won’t make contact with you until Wednesday when the drugs wear off.” People on the internet assume they know a lot more about the situation than you do, but friends, if I ever go missing in Berlin over the weekend, please do <em>not</em> assume I am at a club and will emerge on Wednesday, chastened and tired.</p>
<p>We took our flight to Turkey that week, it was Thursday, the girl had been missing for close to a week. By now, the family flew over, the girl was an immigrant (or an expat? She came from a poorer country but as a Very Aggressive Mansplainer told me recently (re: myself) if you have the privilege to come abroad, and—what were his words?— “not work at a job like cooking at an Indian restaurant” then you’re by default an expat. I <em>know</em>. I <em>tried</em>. And then I got mad, and then I left) and the Embassy put out a plea (which of course didn’t play out well in the Facebook groups, because all the other people from the girl’s home country living here said, “Oh <em>now</em> the embassy is active.”)</p>
<p>Turkey is slightly screwed. Cost of living has risen so much that the price of bread changes every day (source: a friend of a friend, but also have a look <a href="https://www.reuters.com/world/middle-east/we-cant-afford-anything-turkeys-cost-of-living-crisis-threatens-erdogans-re-2023-05-08/">at this</a> and <a href="https://www.turkishminute.com/2023/04/04/cost-living-skyrocket-in-istanbul-in-march-amid-depreciation-of-turkish-lira/">this</a>.) We were flying into Izmir, from where we would spend the weekend at a nearby beach before joining friends in Istanbul for a landmark birthday celebration. On the way to the hotel, in Izmir’s centre, we asked directions from a woman who stopped to smoke a cigarette and one of the first sentences out of her mouth was, “Turkey is so fucked.” She was Turkish herself, holidaying in Izmir for a few days with a friend. There were local tourists everywhere, <em>rich</em> local tourists, plenty of lip fillers and boob jobs, but underneath it all, an almost uneasy acceptance of the fluctuating prices. And <em>those</em> people spoke Turkish. For me and K, it was fill-in-the-blanks as the menus so often didn’t have a listed price. They looked at our faces and made up a figure and we only learned not to order and <em>then</em> ask after a few times of this. But who wants to spend their holiday anxiously enquiring how much everything costs—even people a little budget-strapped like us? No, it took away some of the magic of being in Alaçati, which is a gorgeous town with deep, deep blue seas and the most litter I’ve ever seen on any beach, including Baga. One section has the old town, showing Grecian influences, all winding roads and uphill, full of bars and people walking back and forth. (What did I eat in this idyllic place? Chicken wings, if you can believe it. Have been craving wings in Buffalo sauce, and you can’t get them here in Berlin—well, maybe you can, but it would be a <em>hunt</em>, and I feel silly hunting for something so basic—and there was one “American style” bar so I tried my luck and wow, did the wait pay off.) Where we were staying was a hop and a skip from the crowded little beach so we didn’t even bother to take a towel or anything, just ran from the hotel to the sand in our shorts and t-shirts with bathing suits underneath. Close by, there were huge bungalows, gated and apparently empty except for one which was where the owners were having a small party, sitting on the patio and watching all of us plebs go by. The vibes were very much Real Housewives of Istanbul on one of their mandated “holidays,” the cats were strays but the little dogs stayed on their leashes and close to their owner’s augmented faces.</p>
<p>In Istanbul, we stayed on the side of a hill. It went up and up ending in a tower before going downhill again. You understood that if you walked downhill at all, you’d have to walk up again. It was raging heat, our clothes stuck to us like skin. After a day of this, we had to spend another just sitting in the hotel room, decompressing while the AC blew at us. In Berlin, it felt like summer was ending. Long spells of rain made the temperatures plummet, it was cold enough for jackets and tights, put away optimistically till October, now yanked out of cupboards and drawers again. The girl’s family organised a sit-in, they wanted answers. No one said she might still be partying. A woman was raped in a park beloved of both local residents and weed dealers. Her boyfriend was assaulted and made to watch. The culprits were immigrants—not expats—and so the centre-right government took it up as a battle cry. Just a few weeks ago, we’d all been laughing about the news about a wild lionness running loose in the suburbs. We thought it was so funny that someone took a video of an animal and just assumed it was a lion. We rooted for the lion, <em>may they never find her</em> we said.</p>
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<p>The lion turned out to be a wild boar. The rape meant the police could close the gates of the park after ten pm. Police here are armed, guns on the side of their hips, so young, overwhelmingly so white. They often look bored when I see them, standing against barriers for protest marches, cruising lazily in their cars. Across the road from our flat is a falafel place, the police car on duty often stops for dinner. It’s hard not to be distracted by their bullet proof vests, how they never seem to laugh or smile.</p>
<p>In Istanbul, our group was ten people, which meant a lot of coordinating meals and meeting spots. I’d never been on a group holiday except with family, and I was surprised at how friendly everyone was, how even on hot angry days, there was no drama. Our family holidays are <em>full</em> of drama, and I equated that with travelling in a large group. Turns out it’s just family. K and I were on a tighter budget than the rest, and also we’d just been to Istanbul for a few weeks the year before, so we splintered off, did our own thing during the day and joined everyone else in the evening. One day, all ten of us made our way to a small island off the city, connected by ferry. That was glorious, but it was sad for me because I left behind my beloved beach cover-up that K bought me from a second hand shop in Poland several years ago, and also a sun visor I’d just bought in Alaçati. It had a black straw brim with daisies embroidered on it. I know you shouldn’t get so attached to <em>things</em>, but I was very sad anyway when I discovered their loss. I’m trying to be zen about my stuff, but I grow so fond of them that it’s like losing a friend even when I drop a coffee cup by accident. They feel like a symbol, like if I’ve lost my things then I’m losing control of everything. Maybe I need even more therapy. Maybe it’s growing up without siblings. I really liked that cover up, it was stylish, light and dried very fast.</p>
<p>On the ferry, on the way back to the mainland as I was mourning my things, a Greek student who struck up conversation with us, asked K, quite out of the blue, “Do you like Hitler?” That made us laugh. K said, “Do <em>you</em>?” and he replied, “No, but my mother does.” Those family holidays must be full of tension. K says when most people talk to him about Germany they mention the Autobahn, Oktoberfest and usually, Hitler comes up. It’s mostly Indian Uncles who do this, so we were both surprised to get it from a Greek student.</p>
<p>Berlin is still really safe. No one else is jumpy, women even leave their headphones on as they walk home alone in the middle of the night. I’m jumpy, but I have Delhi PTSD, I tell people. I cross the road when I see groups of men standing around. I take my key out two blocks before I come back to our street. There’s this one bridge, a beautiful one, which is a shortcut between our neighbourhood and another, and once meeting friends for dinner, I crossed underneath it, rushing along, gripping my bag and a man jumped out at me from behind a pillar and all he said was, “Are you okay?” but I think I screamed a little and I scampered as fast as I could go. My heart was still beating hard when I sat down. The friends we were meeting looked bemused but I laughed and said it was my cardio exercise for the day. I still call it the Scary Bridge, which is terrible because it’s one of the prettiest spots close by. You should also know about me that I’m a dreamy walker, very much not aware of my surroundings, very much drifting along from lane to lane. Many times I’ve almost stepped into the path of a bike or oncoming e-scooter. K has to steer me away from more purposeful walkers coming behind me. I love walking, I love thinking when I walk, and looking at all the little things—a backyard of wild flowers, someone’s dropped earring, interesting stickers, sparrows eating leftover bread off a table—lalala just strolling along, looking up at the sky occasionally. Now I’ve been here close to two years, some routes have become automatic, so I don’t even have to look at my maps. It means I startle very easily though, because I’m so in my own head, that my reaction time has to be immediate and animalistic</p>
<p>The day before we were flying back home, the police found the girl in a canal near her home. She may have jumped in voluntarily. There’s not much more information. One article quotes the mother as saying, “She was very homesick.” She was very young. It must be hard to be young on your own so far away. So many of my friends left India to study abroad after school, it must have been hard for them as well. And I stayed and stayed, until the end of my thirties, and still, it was an adjustment. I wouldn’t give up this life for the one I left behind but I do miss certain luxuries of living in a country of which you are a native citizen. Even though I’m taking up space here, I’m carving my own little hole in which I sit, it’ll always be about learning. Learning is great—how do you stay alive if you’re stagnant—but coming home from an exhausting trip and having to speak a foreign language you’re not very good at as soon as you land? It’s a process.</p>
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<p>My mum is coming for a month-long visit today and I’m really excited to show her around and our lives. I’ve also got some <em>plans</em> for this space so please help me by voting in these polls. I’d like to make this newsletter more regular, because I have so much to say, so I’ve been considering certain levels of a paid tier? Check out the options below and please vote! I have an editorial plan and everything!</p>
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<p><strong>Currently reading:</strong></p>
<p><em>Needful Things</em> by Stephen King who I normally love, but I don’t know, this one is feeling hackneyed and formulaic. Not really that deep bone-chilling horror I usually get from King, so I’m struggling to finish. Maybe I’m just distracted though.</p>
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<p><strong>Onward to the links!</strong></p>
<p>With the new <em>Made In Heaven</em> out, a really good time to <a href="https://mrm.substack.com/p/the-internet-personified-is-indian">re-up my newsletter</a> about season one.</p>
<p>Rethinking <a href="https://haleynahman.substack.com/p/153-rethinking-weekend-plans?ref=shesabeast.cohttps://haleynahman.substack.com/p/153-rethinking-weekend-plans?ref=shesabeast.co">weekend plans</a>.</p>
<p>Lovely long read (tw: missing children): <a href="https://harpers.org/archive/2023/08/who-walks-always-beside-you">who walks always beside you</a>.</p>
<p>Great <a href="https://theintercept.com/2023/08/06/umar-khalid-india-modi/">profile of Umar Khalid</a> who is <em>still</em> in jail.</p>
<p>It’s summer, so not a lot of great links. Perhaps you’re even reading this the day after I send it to you because it’s a holiday. Wherever you are—have a good week!</p>
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<p>xx</p>
<p>m</p>
<p><strong>Who are you?</strong> <em>Meenakshi Reddy Madhavan, writer of internet words (and other things) author of seven books (<a href="http://www.amazon.in/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=meenakshi+reddy+madhavan">support me by buying a book!)</a> and general city-potter-er.<br />
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eMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12716202062654957842noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7382033.post-65689814102630291472023-07-11T21:51:00.001+05:302023-07-11T21:51:45.466+05:30The Internet Personified: Everybody poops sometimes<p>Dearest fields of dreams,</p>
<p>Hello and welcome from another scorching hot day in Berlin. (I love it so much.) I have my standing fan on in my little study and after I write this I am going to travel in the (sweaty) U Bahn to the library and maybe meet K after. Summer evenings are the best.</p>
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<p>Before we get to the meat (hee) of this thing, a little reminder to <a href="https://www.amazon.in/dp/0143454471?ref_=cm_sw_r_mwn_dp_1Y2BJDEQEHQ3S5H91517">buy Soft Animal</a>! Buy two copies and give one to your local library or reading cafe. THANK YOU! KISSES!</p>
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<p>As everyone from a certain part of the world knows, the moment you set foot in the <em>other</em> part of the world, one big question starts to form in your mind (and your body): <em>how on earth do I poop here</em>? Hundreds of years ago, certain Western countries decided the best way to clean their bums post shit was to wipe a piece of dry paper across it and call it a day. This became upheld as the golden standard of hygiene, to this day I hear about foreigners going to countries with bidets and saying, “Gross!” So much so that toilet paper has become standard: you’ll hear people complaining that loos have no TP, but not a mention if they lack a potty shower.</p>
<p>That’s what I call this thing, by the way. A potty shower.</p>
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<p>It is the number one thing I miss about India, that, and how it’s standard to give people glasses of water at restaurants and bars without them having to request it specially.</p>
<p>Potty showers are known by all sorts of different names. I have heard:</p>
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<li>
<p>Bum jets</p>
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<li>
<p>Hygiene spray</p>
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<li>
<p>Loo guns</p>
</li>
<li>
<p>Bum guns</p>
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</ol>
<p>But one thing all of us know is that toilet paper countries will not have them. Some friends who have been in Berlin long enough to purchase a flat decided that since it was their own property, goddammit, they were going to have a comfortable and convenient way to clean their asses. So they brought in a bidet attachment and asked the plumber who was renovating the bathroom to fix it near the toilet. This man, being German, did not understand what exactly the thing was going to be used for and connected it to the mains instead of a side flow. “So you see,” said my friend, when I went to visit his home some summers ago, “It gives you an enema each time you use it.”</p>
<p>I tried it myself, not <em>on</em> myself thankfully, since I had been warned and water came whooshing out like a pressure hose.</p>
<p>Most people have learned to make do. Some use wet wipes, others a little mug by the side of the loo. The toilets in new build houses in Berlin are generally windowless and cramped, small and damp. I have another friend who has a really beautiful pre-war apartment in an attic. Slanting windows let in light into her bathroom which has the vastness of a sanctuary. Ours is a tiny little afterthought, placed between bedrooms, large enough for a washing machine to be tucked into one corner, not large enough to have a separate shower and tub. Instead we stand inside the tub and use the shower, adjusted to our respective heights. At least we <em>have</em> a tub, it is my joy and delight to soak in it after a tiring week, but because of similar space issues, the drying laundry flutters on the rack just above my head. I’ve never had a vast bathroom, so I always admire them in other people’s homes. When you have a big space you can decorate, have a <em>theme</em> even, some <em>decor</em>. One of my friends in Delhi had a little rug by the long sink and counter, the shower was so far away that no splash would ever come near it. Our neighbour next door has the same tiny loo we do, but she has made it into a sanctuary. When you turn on the light, there’s a little machine with bird sounds that comes on. Sweet smelling things are everywhere. In contrast, ours is basic, not even a mirror on the wall to lighten things up. (Often in Germany, houses come completely unfurnished so it’s not rare for tenants to buy things for themselves and then remove them completely when they leave. In our case, the previous tenants were an old woman and her hired caretaker, so they left us a fully intact kitchen including cups and plates but took things like light fixtures and bathroom mirrors.)</p>
<p>I had a dream the other night about a bathroom. It could’ve been because I really had to pee and my brain starts throwing up images of loos in a desperate attempt to make me wake up and use it. It wasn’t a very nice dream, in fact, it was a nightmare, it ended with an old man cornering me against the hot water pipes, after which I woke up, heart pounding (and went to the loo after all, so well done, brain, scare me awake) but the bathroom itself was so beautiful. It was all tiled in sunny yellow, the ceilings were high, with windows placed close to it so shafts of sunlight danced through the room. There were plenty of plants and a low long tub in the corner. “It was a really nice bathroom,” I told my therapist later, we often discuss my dreams, “It was almost like a church.”</p>
<p>Pretty bathrooms are supposed to distract from the most important thing you do there. Which is: poop. Which is a time of day you sit still and focus, perhaps you have your phone or a book with you, but really you’re listening to your body. And we <em>know</em> pooping is important. Think of how uncomfortable you feel when you haven’t gone in a couple of days because you’re on holiday and your schedule is off. (Me.) Or when you have a bad tummy and how sick and weak you feel because you can’t do this one simple thing you have been doing since you came out of the womb. I have a strong stomach and good gut health, but one week of overdoing the partying and everything is off, wobbling sideways, ominous noises from my belly, a general sense of unease and malaise.</p>
<p>(And you’re supposed to be sick with <em>toilet paper?</em> Ew.)</p>
<p>Anyway, it’s hard to live in Germany with only TP, unless you train yourself to go just before you have a shower. (The Italians are very civilised and have bidets.) We have a portable plastic bidet now called the Happy Po, which we carry along whenever we have to travel and which has changed our lives considerably for the better. It was given to us by a friend whose then-wife was a gynaecologist and received a few samples at work, for women to clean themselves after giving birth, since there’s a lot of post-partum blood and so on. (Imagine doing <em>that</em> with <em>toilet paper</em>.) We love ours so much that when it came out at our local drug store we bought them as presents for (Indian) friends who also delight in it. (But are a little shy about discussing how amazing it is, people should really talk about poop logistics more freely.) From my window I can see customers at the supermarket across the road coming and going, and on Monday, after the shops have been closed on Sunday, they’re often coming out with bundles of toilet paper, stacks of it, like there’s going to be an apocalypse.</p>
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<p>Everyone, especially us geriatric millennials, is used to pooping a certain way, I suppose. I have a little stool I put in front of the toilet because it’s slightly high, not so high as you would notice, but it’s more comfortable if my feet are up and my knees bent in front of my hips. I probably can’t convince anyone else to use a stool or a bidet for that matter, if you’re used to TP, but honestly, try one, it could change your life.</p>
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<p><strong>Currently watching</strong>: EVERYTHING on our new SECOND HAND TV! It’s a 42” Phillips brand and our Chromecast fits into it and it just makes me SO HAPPY to have a television again after 20 years. (The Smart TV features, while a bonus, weren’t really needed, which is good, because this TV is about 9 years old and the smart part of it has become sort of slow and outdated.)</p>
<p><strong>Currently reading</strong>: VS Naipaul’s <em>An Area of Darkness</em> which is his really personal, really intense India book, listening to <em>My Friend Anna</em>, a memoir about a woman who was friends with Anna Delvey, the con artist. It’s narrated by the author who is really annoying, or has a really annoying voice, so you could call it a hate-listen, I guess, because I keep snorting and rolling my eyes.</p>
<p>I borrowed two books from the library I’d never heard of and completely loved. I like that discovery feeling, it’s been so long since I just looked at the back of a book and thought, “Huh, might give this a go” without ever having heard of it before. And then the joy of knowing there are no stakes, you can just give it back if you don’t like it. (I borrowed and did not finish Kamila Shamsie’s Best Of Friends, because it was not for me, for example). Anyway these two were: Sabrina by Nick Drnaso (a graphic novel that was nominated for a Booker prize) and Patsy by Nicole Dennis-Benn about a Jamaican immigrant to the US. I suggest you read both of them blind like I did, and just feel the sense of a good book unfolding in front of you. It’s so satisfying.</p>
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<p><strong>Here are some good online reads I enjoyed recently:</strong></p>
<p>Would you dare <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/2023/jun/11/twice-in-a-lifetime-would-you-dare-meet-your-doppelganger">to meet your doppelganger</a>?</p>
<p><a href="https://magazine.atavist.com/the-romance-scammer-on-my-sofa-nigeria-yahoo-boys/">Yahoo boys in Nigeria are romance scammers</a> and one man set out in search of them.</p>
<p>Yay, new <a href="https://12ft.io/proxy?q=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.newyorker.com%2Fmagazine%2F2023%2F07%2F10%2Fon-killing-charles-dickens">Zadie Smith novel</a>!</p>
<p>It’s really sad that Victoria Ammelina, a Ukrainian novelist, just died in a shelling, because <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/world/2023/jul/06/victoria-amelina-novelist-kramatorsk-russia-ukraine-war-meaning-of-home">this piece was the first of hers</a> I’d read and it just struck me as so insightful and moving. The world’s loss.</p>
<p>Meals <a href="https://longreads.com/2023/06/20/meals-for-one-sharanya-deepak">for one</a>.</p>
<p>And:</p>
<div class="embedded-post-wrap" data-attrs='{"id":125598361,"url":"https://askmolly.substack.com/p/birthday-a94","publication_id":9711,"publication_name":"ASK MOLLY","publication_logo_url":"https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fe9b9a16c-c3c4-4dee-afe5-e21b2fd72cf5_256x256.png","title":"Birthday","truncated_body_text":"Presencia Inquietante (1959) by Remedios Varo It’s my birthday so I’m celebrating by sitting around feeling sorry for myself. It’s not about my age, who cares about that? I’m Age-Is-Just-A-Number years old. What’s upsetting is that I need every single tiny thing to go perfectly on my birthday. Even though I am not five or fifteen or twenty-five, I still …","date":"2023-06-02T23:04:10.628Z","like_count":189,"comment_count":16,"bylines":[{"id":8816,"name":"Heather Havrilesky","handle":"askmolly","previous_name":null,"photo_url":"https://substack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com/public/images/5cf6c451-05ad-4c5a-ba79-d516aff2b108_1697x1697.jpeg","bio":"Advice columnist, cultural critic, author of the memoir Foreverland (Ecco, 2/8/22) +three other books.","profile_set_up_at":"2021-04-19T15:57:51.655Z","publicationUsers":[{"id":76451,"user_id":8816,"publication_id":30395,"role":"admin","public":true,"is_primary":true,"publication":{"id":30395,"name":"Ask Polly","subdomain":"askpolly","custom_domain":"www.ask-polly.com","custom_domain_optional":false,"hero_text":"Advice and wisdom from Heather Havrilesky, published since 2012 (formerly at The Awl and NY Magazine). Paid subscribers receive twice weekly posts on how to navigate our broken world with compassion, realism, and an open heart. ","logo_url":"https://bucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com/public/images/49087e65-dab5-45d8-9ca5-60c71612f93c_600x600.png","author_id":8816,"theme_var_background_pop":"#e8b500","created_at":"2020-02-16T23:32:53.008Z","rss_website_url":null,"email_from_name":"Ask Polly","copyright":"Heather Havrilesky","founding_plan_name":null,"community_enabled":true,"invite_only":false,"payments_state":"enabled"}},{"id":69475,"user_id":8816,"publication_id":9711,"role":"admin","public":true,"is_primary":false,"publication":{"id":9711,"name":"ASK MOLLY","subdomain":"askmolly","custom_domain":null,"custom_domain_optional":false,"hero_text":"Essays by Heather Havrilesky, Ask Polly columnist and author of Foreverland: On the Divine Tedium of Marriage (2022), What If This Were Enough? (2018), How to Be a Person in the World (2016), and Disaster Preparedness (2011)","logo_url":"https://bucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com/public/images/e9b9a16c-c3c4-4dee-afe5-e21b2fd72cf5_256x256.png","author_id":8816,"theme_var_background_pop":"#fd5353","created_at":"2019-05-09T15:47:06.319Z","rss_website_url":null,"email_from_name":"ASK MOLLY","copyright":"Heather Havrilesky","founding_plan_name":"Founding Member","community_enabled":true,"invite_only":false,"payments_state":"enabled"}}],"is_guest":false,"bestseller_tier":1000}],"utm_campaign":null,"belowTheFold":true,"type":"newsletter"}' data-component-name="EmbeddedPostToDOM"><a class="embedded-post" href="https://askmolly.substack.com/p/birthday-a94?utm_source=substack&utm_campaign=post_embed&utm_medium=web">
<div class="embedded-post-header"><img class="embedded-post-publication-logo" src="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_56,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fe9b9a16c-c3c4-4dee-afe5-e21b2fd72cf5_256x256.png" /><span class="embedded-post-publication-name">ASK MOLLY</span></div>
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<div class="embedded-post-title">Birthday</div>
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<div class="embedded-post-body">Presencia Inquietante (1959) by Remedios Varo It’s my birthday so I’m celebrating by sitting around feeling sorry for myself. It’s not about my age, who cares about that? I’m Age-Is-Just-A-Number years old. What’s upsetting is that I need every single tiny thing to go perfectly on my birthday. Even though I am not five or fifteen or twenty-five, I still …</div>
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<div class="embedded-post-meta">a month ago · 189 likes · 16 comments · Heather Havrilesky</div>
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<p>That’s all I’ve got! Go enjoy yourself, I command it.</p>
<p>xx</p>
<p>m</p>
<p><strong>Who are you?</strong> <em>Meenakshi Reddy Madhavan, writer of internet words (and other things) author of seven books (<a href="http://www.amazon.in/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=meenakshi+reddy+madhavan">support me by buying a book!)</a> and general city-potter-er.<br />
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Follow me on <a href="http://twitter.com/reddymadhavan">Twitter</a>, <a href="http://facebook.com/thecompulsiveconfessor">Facebook</a> and <a href="http://instagram.com/decemberschild">Instagram</a>. (Plus my <a href="https://instagram.com/minnareads">book recommendation</a> Instagram!)<br /></em></p>
<p><em>Forward to your friends if you liked this and to toilet paper hoarders if you didn’t.<br />
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Also, write back to me! I love to hear from you.</em></p>
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eMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12716202062654957842noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7382033.post-75916162858153000092023-06-21T17:50:00.001+05:302023-06-21T17:50:57.147+05:30The Internet Personified: The second hand unwinds<p>Dearest whiskers on kittens,</p>
<p>Have you read <em>Soft Animal</em> yet? I hope so. It’s been a bit quiet since it launched so I’m getting slightly despair-y sitting here in Berlin. This self promotion really kills any sense of achievement you have in publishing a book in the first place. I don’t know what it takes to sell fiction in India, but here I am, asking you to buy a copy of my book for yourself, and if you have one already, maybe for your friends? Here’s a link. It’s very good.</p>
<p class="button-wrapper" data-attrs='{"url":"https://www.amazon.in/dp/0143454471?ref_=cm_sw_r_mwn_dp_1Y2BJDEQEHQ3S5H91517","text":"Buy Soft Animal online","action":null,"class":null}' data-component-name="ButtonCreateButton"><a class="button primary" href="https://www.amazon.in/dp/0143454471?ref_=cm_sw_r_mwn_dp_1Y2BJDEQEHQ3S5H91517"><span>Buy Soft Animal online</span></a></p>
<p>It wasn’t supposed to rain today, my weather app—called, somewhat misleadingly Accuweather—showed a fine but cloudy day. Now, with the rain coming down softly outside my window, Accuweather has changed its prediction but I’m beginning to not trust it very much. I rely on weather apps these days, a summer’s day can go from blazing to chilly with no warning, and often I set out on the weekend in the day time, only to return after sunset (10 pm these days), so I have to know what to carry in my bag. The other day, my local library had a clothes swap party, where you took (up to) ten items of clothing, all washed and in good nick, and exchanged for other people’s. I had some dresses from Delhi I had fondly brought to Berlin assuming I would drop weight around my chest eventually (it just doesn’t happen so I’m giving up) so when I was unpacking my summer clothes, I added them to a bag and took them across.</p>
<p>I love the large American Memorial Library because of its vast selection of English books (divided helpfully by continent, including one shelf for us) but my local, which is called Pablo Neruda Bibliothek has a special place in my heart. It’s a gorgeous building (see photo) with extremely friendly staff.</p>
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<figcaption class="image-caption">Behind this is a small park with sun loungers where you can sit and read your book as well.</figcaption>
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<p>Friendly staff is important for a library because increasingly, it’s less about books and more about the community services they offer. During the summer, there’s all sorts of children’s workshops and readings, they also have a little “library of things” where you can borrow household tools, a print and photocopy machine, art for your walls, a special music section and a decent English language selection. Enough to keep me going back. I’ve signed up for their newsletter which is how I found out about the clothes swap and on the day, I went armed with my things and was shown how to hang them on racks, each labelled with category of clothes. Having ditched all my Delhi things, I walked around and picked up a selection (mostly H&M, which is a brand that’s following me around, more on that in a bit) including one grey Adidas hoodie. This I took to the back room, where the clever library staff had set up a free screen printing and upcycling studio, where you could have anything you took altered or repaired or add a funky design. I put a white leopard at the back of my hoodie (and was so pleased with the results, I added a white angler fish to a blue H&M dress, that now looks so <em>special</em>, I’m waiting for the right opportunity to wear it) and this is the hoodie that now scrunches up into my bag or I wear wrapped around my waist for the moment the sun sets, the city is cold again.</p>
<p>About two years ago, my mum gave me a pre-loaded cash card for my birthday with euros on it that I could spend here. That card is set to expire soon and I still haven’t spent all the money on it. Not because it was so much money (it <em>was</em> but you know, I can shop) but because it seemed like every time I desired something it appeared to me second hand or free. Sure, it’s expensive to live in Berlin, but a lot of stuff just happens to be there for the taking. Our house is decorated almost entirely second hand—right now just on my desk (a hand-me-down from K’s parents) there’s a laptop stand (found outside a slightly fancy building on the street) and a massive DDR-era globe (K found it when he went out to run errands the other day, I looked it up and it’s worth like 100-250 euros itself, but someone has drawn a face on one side (Berlin) so thankfully, I don’t have to give it up.) Around me are plants, most are gifts from my friend next door who has to keep repotting her massive collection, two I bought (a chilli plant that is flowering like crazy but isn’t giving me any fruit and a monstera deliciosa which is growing to befit its name) and two are free: a rose bush someone threw out (which is probably dying says someone on <a href="https://www.reddit.com/r/plantclinic">r/plantclinic</a>) (but hah, just this morning I looked and a bud is blooming!) and a small set of seedlings I grew from the seeds of the Thai chillis I buy at our local Asian shop, which is growing in a free ceramic pot K found downstairs. What else? Past the furniture (second hand and off eBay or more hand-me-downs), there’s a glass terrarium on the dining table (found in a box someone was getting rid of), and I just found two old ceramic jugs with pretty designs on them that I’m going to use as vases. On top of the bookshelf is an ambitious project, two massive rolled up canvases we have to frame, oil paintings of people leaning out of Berlin balconies to look at fireworks, a passed on present from a friend who went to an art residency with the artist of these two who wanted to throw them out, and my friend rescued them and gave them to me. (Ambitious because we have to DIY the canvas stretching ourselves, which is why they’re still on top of the bookshelf.)</p>
<p>(I did actually spend some of my birthday money recently—I bought a new swimming bikini from a physical shop; I like to try on tops to see if they fit and give enough support etc. This is a place called Calzedonia, and I recommend it if you’re looking for swimwear in Europe. Great colours, a wide range of designs and sizes (because I’m heavy chested, I often get stuck with really boring colours, either black or beige, and this time I got a bright orange without padding and with underwire, so I’m thrilled) and you can mix and match for wide bottoms and small tops or vice versa. I bought an orange top and a green bottom and when I told my friend this later she snorted and said, “You bought the India flag!” which, oops, I guess I did.)</p>
<p>(I also spent some money at DM, which is literally my favourite store. It’s a drugstore, American style, so no medicine—those you buy at an Apotheke, which obvs is the root word for apothecary, a much nicer word than chemist or pharmacy—anyway DM has all sorts of exciting things from cat food to toilet paper to menstrual cups to tea for a runny nose and the skin care/make up section is one of my favourites, so I bought a few things, experimenting. Although I have to say I’m a bit disappointed in the shimmer oil, I slather it on expecting to have a little glow, but you can barely see it. Obviously made for white skin not brown.)</p>
<p>The other day, walking home from the station, K stopped to look at some pink fairy wings, obviously left there by a parent. A woman walking behind him stopped to laugh—and then walked home with us, chatting companionably with K the entire time (in German, I think my German is getting <em>worse</em> or else I’m getting more anxious about it which means my brain is just freezing up even at the simplest constructions. I need to go back to classes or I’ll be one of those horrible expats who have lived here for 10 years and can still only say please and thank you). She had not much money, she told him, so she spent her time cruising Berlin streets for what she could pick up, and ours was one of the best ones for free things. “Try two blocks down,” she said, leaving, “It’s even better.”</p>
<p>Many years ago, when I lived in Bombay, I met a visiting tourist, a friend-of-a-friend. He was, he told me, a “freegan.” He only ate what he could find in dumpsters—and all he wore was what he could find. At the time—I was about 25—I was grossed out, and this “freegan” became a punchline to a story I told about “Americans be crazy” for a long time after that.</p>
<p>Indians are weird about second-hand stuff. It’s obviously a caste thing, you can’t eat something off someone else’s plate, hand-me-downs are for “poor people” and the only way to prove your worth is to have new things. For many years, the only old things I bought were furniture from Amar Colony, always reupholstered or polished to become new. Antiques were fine, a rich people thing, but vintage clothes didn’t exist. One of my favourite sweaters now, a basic grey polo neck, is something I found hanging on the rails of a church. This was when I first moved to Berlin, where taking things off the road still felt “icky.” Vintage clothes shops were okay—we were posturing as rich people around the world—but free clothes? Ew. It took me a while to get over that mindset.</p>
<p>Capitalism ruins the world—such an easy truism to bark off and act so superior. Capitalism definitely ruined Delhi. Cheap things are everywhere, refresh your wardrobe with just one click and very little money spent, and throw away everything you don’t wear any more, just to join a landfill. Thanks to plastic being cheaper than all other materials, you see garbage everywhere, single use sachets of shampoo and empty chips packets and Coke bottles littered up and down public spaces. In the past, many years ago, there were still cheap methods of packaging, but these were newspaper bags wrapped around snacks or glass bottles. In Delhi, now, every time we order off Zomato there’s a whole bin’s worth of trash: plastic boxes and cellotape and five different kinds of unusable plastic spoons and forks. What to do? It’s so easy to order something in when you don’t feel like cooking, so much extra effort to research and find only places that do compostable packaging. Life is so much more convenient now, but only short-term, what’s going to happen in a decade or two?</p>
<p>The only reason we manage like this in Berlin—and we never order in—is because everything is already built into a culture of reuse and recycle. Ordering in is expensive and the food is rarely very good, so I prefer to cook. K has started to insist we only use organic meat which is so expensive that we only cook with 250 grams at a time.</p>
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<p>Meanwhile I’ve started refreshing my wardrobe using a second hand website called <a href="http://www.vinted.de">Vinted</a>. It’s exactly like all the various ecommerce portals except it’s people selling their old/unused clothes. I did a little research on brands and bought a pair of <a href="https://www.stories.com/de_de/index.html">& Other Stories</a> high waisted blue jeans as well as a <a href="https://www.cos.com/de_de/index.html">COS</a> white dress and since the seller also had a nice striped cotton blazer from H&M, I bought both. Remember how I said H&M was following me around? Turns out all these nice “fancy” brands I thought I was supporting are all subsets of H&M. I wasn’t supporting independent labels, I was just rewarding H&M’s idea of breaking off into little “designer” nooks to appeal to a wider audience. I tried to buy a pair of Doc Marten’s but the lady messaged me saying her son was very sick and she couldn’t send them on time and then she cancelled the transaction and never wrote back to me after. I hope her son is okay.</p>
<p>Finally, last week, admiring a friend’s bag, large enough for picnics (fit a bottle of wine and a book and other things easily) and light enough to go across your body without pulling, I asked her where it was from. “Weekday,” she said, “But it’s really H&M.” I decided to try and get away from their clutches and do a little research online for a good travel cross-body for summer days, when I wind up carrying much more than I anticipate. (Water bottle, umbrella, hoodie, Kindle/paperback, earbuds, a pen, a notebook, chilli flakes and hot sauce in case I’m eating out (this is a Berlin hack I learned from the same friend), my phone, my keys, my wallet etc.) I found great reviews for a brand called Baggalini, and searched for it on Vinted. Someone was selling <a href="https://www.amazon.de/-/en/Baggallini-Modern-Everywhere-Bag-Crossbody/dp/B0B4482KZZ/ref=sr_1_8?keywords=Baggallini&qid=1687341122&sr=8-8&th=1">the same bag I’d seen</a> for 8 euros. I bought it and now it’s going with me everywhere. (It’s not the world’s most stylish handbag but it <em>is</em> extremely practical and theft-proof, which is important because this city is crawling with pickpockets.)</p>
<p>We had a chat, me and the seller, because Vinted has built in a translate option into the chat, I could speak in my language and she could in hers. “I want to take it to the park,” I said, “Will it fit a bottle of wine and a book?” and in return, she sent me back these photos.</p>
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<p>Try getting <em>that</em> service off Myntra or Amazon!</p>
<p>Anyway, maybe this weekend you can have a clothes swap in a public place (your local bar where you know the owner? The park across the road? That last one may not feel <em>exclusive</em>, but sometimes it’s not about exclusivity either.) It’s always fun to see what people bring, and what you can go home with. Don’t feel guilty, the world is doomed, we might as well have beautiful things.</p>
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<p><strong>Currently reading:</strong></p>
<p>Karl Ove Knausgaard’s <em>My Struggle vol 1</em> for my new novel, which is very good, if a bit slow. Reading it with post-it notes for jotting down things whenever inspiration strikes, which is plenty. This has also sent me searching for the first volume of Proust’s <em>Remembrance of Lost Time</em>, which I got on another second hand website called <a href="https://www.wob.com/en-gb">World of Books</a> which is UK-based (they have a German website too) and buys up unsold books from charity shops to sell online. Really fast and easy to use and doesn’t give Amazon any money, so hurrah. (We also experimented with a Vinted-style bookstore called <a href="https://www.booklooker.de">Booklooker</a> to buy Gunther Grass’ <em>Tin Drum</em>, which K recommends highly, but that hasn’t arrived yet and is a bit more fiddly to use because you have to send a bank transfer before the person posts it.)</p>
<p><strong>Currently eating:</strong></p>
<p>Obsessed with burrata, best of all summer cheeses. Bought some last week to put in a salad, but then we just started carving off chunks and lowering them straight into our mouths with the back of a knife. I’m currently burrata-less, but that shall soon be amended. My friend served it to me last month with fried eggplant on the side and some chilli flakes to sprinkle on top and it was cool and delicious.</p>
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<p>Links!</p>
<p>Was the <a href="https://12ft.io/proxy?q=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.newyorker.com%2Fmagazine%2F2020%2F02%2F17%2Fwas-jeanne-calment-the-oldest-person-who-ever-lived-or-a-fraud">world’s oldest woman</a> a fraud?</p>
<p><a href="https://dirt.fyi/article/2023/06/bad-waitress">Bad waitress</a>, a personal essay.</p>
<p>Are <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/books/2023/jun/05/the-big-idea-are-cats-really-domesticated">cats really domesticated</a>?</p>
<p>The casual ignominy of <a href="https://www.esquire.com/uk/culture/books/a44126872/the-casual-ignominy-of-the-book-tours-of-yore">book tours of yore</a>. (Hard relate.)</p>
<p>How to <a href="https://www.bbc.com/travel/article/20230606-how-to-tip-around-the-world">tip around the world</a>. (The USA looks too complicated for me to even attempt it.)</p>
<p>Today’s the summer solstice, the longest day of the year, and also <a href="https://www.fetedelamusique.de/">Fete de la Musique</a>, which means free concerts across the city if you happen to be visiting. I’m checking out two round the corner from me with our house guest, an old friend from Delhi who happened to spontaneously plan a visit this month.</p>
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<p>That’s all she’s got! See you soooon.</p>
<p>xx</p>
<p>m</p>
<p><strong>Who are you?</strong> <em>Meenakshi Reddy Madhavan, writer of internet words (and other things) author of seven books (<a href="http://www.amazon.in/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=meenakshi+reddy+madhavan">support me by buying a book!)</a> and general city-potter-er.<br />
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<p><em>Forward to your friends if you liked this and to people who throw out their old things every month “just because they’re not new” if you didn’t.<br />
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Also, write back to me! I love to hear from you.</em></p>
eMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12716202062654957842noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7382033.post-15677502445903425832023-05-28T17:50:00.001+05:302023-05-28T17:50:38.174+05:30The Internet Personified: Hindi Sad Diamonds<p>Fellow pretenders,</p>
<p>Over a month since Soft Animal came out! Have you bought it? Have you read it? Did you enjoy it? I want to hear allllll your thoughts: the good, the bad, the ugly. Just hit reply on this newsletter and let me have it.</p>
<p>Of course, now would also be a great time to buy yourself a copy and here’s a little button that will lead you to the appropriate page.</p>
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<p>I was walking down the road yesterday to meet my friend for ice cream. Germans loooove ice cream, even in the dead of winter, there’ll be one vaguely sunny day and everyone’s suddenly standing around eating “eis.” The more old fashioned shops have large cement bins shaped like cones outside. You can buy “spaghetti” ice, which is just ice cream in different shapes in the colours of spag bol. You can buy massive sundaes, there’s vegan ice on every corner, and ice cream shops often have lines snaking outside them filled mostly with parents and kids, but also regular adult people just getting their ice cream on.</p>
<p>[I made the switch to oat milk ages ago, Germany has some very delicious options, and it’s been a long time since I’ve eaten ice cream, but uff, sorry to report that my stomach has now lost any lactose enzymes or whatever it used to have. One small sweet serving and my stomach begins to rumble, and both times I’ve eaten ice cream this summer, I’ve had to *ahem* use the facilities the moment I returned home. It’s very sad and I will keep trying. I’ve always been mildly lactose intolerant, but it was bearable before, just a bit bloated and gassy, but now it’s a little painful. I wonder if that’s an age thing or a eating-much-less dairy thing. I do still eat cheese and yogurt with no ill effects.]</p>
<p>Anyway, the past few days have been beautifully sunny, and I felt full of good will as I walked along. It was the first day in months I was baring my legs—it’s chilly when the sun goes down, so if I’m going to be out for a while, I put on tights—and I had my Birkenstocks on and a little swagger to my step brought about by wearing sandals instead of shoes, because my feet weren’t used to them, and I was wearing a second hand thin corduroy dress I’d bought in Warsaw and hadn’t worn yet, no, life felt nice.</p>
<p>And then standing at the corner, waiting for the light to change as I crossed I suddenly got that roaring deja vu of <em>where am I is this my real life</em>? I’ve travelled so much in the past five years that sometimes I see another city superimposed on the one I am. People sitting at tables on the street will bring back Bangkok, an old carving on a building will be Budapest, the sun will filter through the trees and there’s a particular hot summer smell, and all at once, I’m in Delhi. This time though, my music switched to <em>Lady Marmalade</em> from <em>Moulin Rouge,</em> and I was thinking about Paris as I gitchy-gitchy-ya-ya-ta-ta’d walking past buildings and cobblestoned roads.</p>
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<figure><a class="image-link is-viewable-img image2" target="_blank" href="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F55f1ad27-8ef4-4f65-852d-fb6a30201c9c_720x1280.png" data-component-name="Image2ToDOM">
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<figcaption class="image-caption">The crossing in question. Very Berlin: see the TV tower in the distance? And yet, deja vu-y.</figcaption>
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<p>That movie was very big the first time I went to Paris. I was nineteen years old and my father had been asked to speak at a conference and took me along. All day, he was conferencing and I was out on my own with a French to English phrasebook and a copy of the Lonely Planet and a map the hotel had given me to get back. I had an iPod then, playing Lady Marmalade on repeat, and once I remembered the chorus was in French when I sang aloud to myself and people stopped and turned around to stare at me.</p>
<p>[Sidebar: once I met a cute French guy in Delhi and he said, “Do you know any French?” and I laughed and said, “Well, I know that one line from that song?” and he was like, “What is it?” and I said, “Well, you know, <em>voulez vous coucher avec moi</em>?” and he said, “Yes.” And who was pulling the line on <em>whom</em> at that point, I wonder, but we both felt very smooth.]</p>
<p>It was February or March when I first went to Paris, cold with little points of spring coming up. The museums were all closed, some strike or another, so mostly to amuse myself I wandered in areas marked off by my guidebook as “extras.” You went to Paris for the museums, my guidebook said, but if you weren’t going to museums, you could do these other things as well. I learned the Metro by myself, and every morning, I stopped at this one Shell station by our hotel where I got a cup of coffee to go. Everyone spoke French and I had laboriously memorised how to say “please” and “thank you” and “good morning” and “yes.” [Funny, I can’t remember the French for “no,” maybe I didn’t learn it at all.] I felt ridiculously sophisticated, I bought a red beret—cringe now at this thought!—and I put it at an angle on my head and felt as Frenchified as it is possible for one nineteen year old Delhiite to be.</p>
<p>One evening, when my father was free, we went to this flea market somewhere or another, and I decided to pierce my bellybutton at one of the stalls. The man used a sort of clamp with prongs to hold the skin up and then just pushed the ring through as easy as you please. I chose a barbell, which later I swapped out with a small ring with a butterfly ornament, that’s the sort of young woman I was, listening to Crazytown, dreaming of someone saying, “You’re my butterfly, sugar, baby.” Imagine being reduced to being someone’s <em>butterfly</em>, but those are the songs we had, and the songs we liked, where we were just images in someone’s thoughts and as images, we had to exist perfectly, as though we were just paper dolls, no thoughts and feelings of our own. So my getting this navel ring wasn’t a symbol of rebellion or anything, it was supposed to be an unexpected bit of sexiness that would be revealed when I chose to. I was a good girl inside, with my beret and my piercing, and my ideas about Paris.</p>
<p>There’s a rap bit in <em>Lady Marmalade</em> that I never paid attention to, I was too busy humming along to the voulez vous etc etc. It goes:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>We come through with the money and the garter belts<br />
Let him know we 'bout that cake straight out the gate (uh)<br />
We independent women, some mistake us for whores<br />
I'm sayin', "Why spend mine when I can spend yours?"<br />
Disagree? Well, that's you, and I'm sorry<br />
I'ma keep playing these cats out like Atari<br />
Wear high heel shoes, get love from the dudes<br />
Four badass chicks from the Moulin Rouge<br />
Hey sistas, soul sistas, betta get that dough, sistas<br />
We drink wine with diamonds in the glass<br />
By the case, the meaning of expensive taste</p>
</blockquote>
<p><em>Moulin Rouge</em> is, of course, the story of an expensive sex worker who works at the Moulin Rouge cabaret and an innocent but poor man who is in love with her and wants to rescue her from all of it. I don’t remember much about the film, but I know Nicole Kidman with her pale skin and large eyes plays the lead, and she has consumption, I think, so is forever coughing blood into a white handkerchief. And there’s an evil pimp who refuses to release her from her obligations. Nicole Kidman doesn’t want to be there at the Moulin Rouge, but also she knows that’s she’s too “soiled” for the innocent writer who falls in love with her, so in the end, they don’t run away together. Instead, Nicole Kidman <em>dies</em>, and the innocent writer has to tell their story so she can “live on” or whatever. It was a very successful movie with the message that love conquers all, unless you’re a cabaret girl promised to a loan shark, in which case you have to die so the story can stay true to itself. I thought the song was about liberation, <em>will you go to bed with me tonight</em> and so on, but it’s really about being okay about spending someone else’s money. A man’s.</p>
<p>I ate snails in Paris and did not enjoy the taste. Mostly I liked pizza and the wine they served by the carafe. I wasn’t yet legal drinking age in Delhi, but in Paris I was. At one small restaurant I heard someone ask, “Excuse me, are you from SPV?” and it was someone who had been to school with me a few years prior, and that was a beautiful serendipitous moment.</p>
<p>My final day there, I stopped at the Shell station once more for a last cup of coffee. There was a young man who had been serving me every day. It was raining, and as I left, I heard him call out to me: <em>Mademoiselle, Mademoiselle!</em> I turned, and he released a rapid round of French at me, none of which I could understand. I just stood there, enjoying the moment, the rain and the French and the being alone in Paris with my cup of coffee, just another image of a woman in a movie, without thoughts or words of my own.</p>
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<p><strong>Currently reading:</strong></p>
<p>Still on <em>The Sea, The Sea</em> by Iris Murdoch, but I am listening to the audiobook of Ann Patchett’s latest collection of essays which inspired this newsletter as she has a Paris essay in it herself. It’s called <em>These Precious Days</em> and is worth your time. I’ve recently discovered I can borrow audiobooks via my library app, so I load them up for commuting and walking and have a nice story going on even as I have to leave the house. The best of both worlds.</p>
<p><strong>Currently cooking</strong>:</p>
<p>Asparagus season in Germany, which everyone is damn excited about, but it’s only the white asparagus that don’t taste as crunchy. I managed to get some green ones, but I had no idea what to make with them, since asparagus is generally not part of my repertoire. Used <a href="https://smittenkitchen.com/2009/05/asparagus-goat-cheese-and-lemon-pasta/">this recipe</a> for pasta, but instead of making the sauce on the side, I aglio-olio’d it with garlic, and instead of using just goat’s cheese since I had very little, I added blue cheese as well. Also lime juice instead of lemon rind. It was delicious. Also asparagus <em>does</em> make <a href="https://www.bbc.com/future/article/20140818-mystery-of-asparagus-and-urine">your pee smell extremely funky</a>, like you’re a very old man and you’ve been drinking your entire life and somehow you also pee in an outhouse, so with an undertone of rotten wood. It’s gross but in an interesting sort of way.</p>
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<p>Just a few bookish links this week:</p>
<p><a href="https://www.theparisreview.org/blog/2017/11/20/art-monstrous-men/">The art of monstrous men</a>, which I enjoyed because I also just rewatched <em>Manhattan</em> recently and got the ick from Woody Allen and his seventeen-year-old girlfriend.</p>
<p>An interview with <a href="https://whattoreadif.substack.com/p/andy-hunter-bookshop-org?utm_source=post-email-title&publication_id=177895&post_id=121430689&isFreemail=true&utm_medium=emailhttps://whattoreadif.substack.com/p/andy-hunter-bookshop-org">the founder of Bookshop</a>, an Amazon competitor.</p>
<p>And the late Martin Amis <a href="https://lithub.com/martin-amis-on-the-genius-of-jane-austen-and-what-the-adaptations-get-wrong">on the genius of Jane Austen</a> (and the badness of rom coms.)</p>
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<p>And that’s all I’ve got! Speak very soon.</p>
<p>xx</p>
<p>m</p>
<p><strong>Who are you?</strong> <em>Meenakshi Reddy Madhavan, writer of internet words (and other things) author of seven books (<a href="http://www.amazon.in/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=meenakshi+reddy+madhavan">support me by buying a book!)</a> and general city-potter-er.<br />
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Follow me on <a href="http://twitter.com/reddymadhavan">Twitter</a>, <a href="http://facebook.com/thecompulsiveconfessor">Facebook</a> and <a href="http://instagram.com/decemberschild">Instagram</a>. (Plus my <a href="https://instagram.com/minnareads">book recommendation</a> Instagram!)<br /></em></p>
<p><em>Forward to your friends if you liked this and to the love songs of your youth which you realise weren’t really love songs at all if you didn’t.<br />
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Also, write back to me! I love to hear from you.</em></p>
eMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12716202062654957842noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7382033.post-83013853125637728362023-05-12T16:51:00.001+05:302023-05-12T16:51:53.198+05:30The Internet Personified: Very Opinionated Women<p>My fridge-cold seedless green grapes,</p>
<p><em>Soft Animal</em> has been out in the world for a few weeks and is doing better than I expected. Having written novels in India for several years, you know that basically each book is a lottery. Sometimes, despite your best efforts, books fade away after one swift bloom, no one talks about them, they’re not setting the world on fire and so on. Relentlessly optimistic, I take comfort in the fact that all my books are still in print, still being bought and sold, even if in small quantities. That’s something: as long as you have readers, you’re alive in the world.</p>
<p>But <em>Soft Animal</em> is doing well, thanks mainly to word of mouth campaigns. I’m going to talk about the large one in a minute, but on an informal level, my mum sent the book details out to all her friends and acquaintances and they all ordered like three or four copies each, and now every now and then she gets a message from someone saying how much they like it. (I also sent out links to my own friends and professional acquaintances, but I felt shy about following it up, so I just said, “Hey, it would be so great if you could support me by buying a book” and left it at that. It’s hard marketing yourself! You have to be really confident about people’s love for you versus their irritation with your plug messages.)</p>
<p>[Here’s where I add a link so you can get yourself a copy and see what everyone’s talking about!]</p>
<p class="button-wrapper" data-attrs="{"url":"https://www.amazon.in/dp/0143454471?ref_=cm_sw_r_mwn_dp_1Y2BJDEQEHQ3S5H91517","text":"Buy Soft Animal online","action":null,"class":null}"><a class="button primary" href="https://www.amazon.in/dp/0143454471?ref_=cm_sw_r_mwn_dp_1Y2BJDEQEHQ3S5H91517"><span>Buy Soft Animal online</span></a></p>
<p>I had asked Karuna Ezara Parikh to blurb my book which she did amazingly. Karuna is the author of the incredible novel <em><a href="https://www.amazon.in/Heart-Asks-Pleasure-First/dp/9389109515/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=karuna+ezara&qid=1683712429&sr=8-1">The Heart Asks Pleasure First</a>,</em> and a collection of poetry called <em><a href="https://www.amazon.in/Where-Stories-Gather-Karuna-Parikh/dp/9354890873/ref=sr_1_2?keywords=karuna+ezara&qid=1683712429&sr=8-2">Where Stories Gather</a>.</em> (You must read them both, Karuna writes prose with a poet’s eye, so all the sentences are gorgeous and lush.) We’re actually friends in real life, not just online, which makes it all the nicer to admire each other’s work. Anyway, after a while observing the Indian bookish space—where a lot of book posts on Instagram are just pretty pictures with the blurb, no critical ratings at all, and newspapers and magazines are killing their book section—she decided to start an online book club, and friends, <em>Soft Animal</em> is her first pick!</p>
<p>You can join Karuna’s Kitaab Club on Instagram here—and we’ll be in conversation on the 21st of May (5 PM IST, 1.30 pm CEST) where you can also ask questions, which will later be recorded as a podcast.</p>
<p class="button-wrapper" data-attrs="{"url":"https://instagram.com/karunaskitaabclub","text":"Join Karuna's Kitaab Club","action":null,"class":null}"><a class="button primary" href="https://instagram.com/karunaskitaabclub"><span>Join Karuna's Kitaab Club</span></a></p>
<p>Personally, I’m excited about this both as a writer (obvs) and a reader. I’ve long thought that India needed a book discussion space in the vein of say, Reese Witherspoon’s Book Club in the US, with some conversation, some critical thinking, some championing of books that might otherwise fall under the radar. I have my own <a href="https://instagram.com/minnareads">bookish Instagram account</a>, as you know, but that’s really just for small reviews, not so much a giant readalong as KKC is doing. There’s something about having community in reading a book—do you love it, do you hate it—and how many other people are having the same experience.</p>
<p>Anyway, thanks to this my book jumped up the Amazon rankings and is now selling consistently! So hurray for book clubs and hurray for word-of-mouth recommendations because in this day and age of More Books Than There Could Ever Be Enough Readers For, this is what we need.</p>
<p>I actually went to a physical book club yesterday. I had a nice one in Delhi, a bunch of friends, lots of dinner and drinks and chatting, enough debate to keep things lively. It was just a small club—still is—most of us friends from school or college or just life. I enjoyed the camaraderie of it, but we were also <em>friends</em>, you know, so it was about friends meeting and talking about books, not the books bringing us together. Maybe I should’ve remembered this when I went out yesterday, hopeful that I would meet some new potential bffs.</p>
<p>I wasn’t <em>that</em> hopeful, to be honest. The book they’d selected: <em><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/en/book/show/54798488">The One Hundred Years of Lenni and Margot</a></em> was just the sort of book I couldn’t <em>stand</em>. (More about that in a minute.) But it was a nice day, and the cafe wasn’t too far from where I live, and a room full of women talking about books is always an exciting thought for me. I did an English Literature degree after all, and I did make some extremely sisterly bonds in college.</p>
<p>When I first moved to Berlin—well, if you can call it moving, dashing in and out of the city—I was so scared I wouldn’t make any friends, that I tried harder than I normally would. Every occasion—large online meet ups like this for example—would hold at least <em>one</em> person who I could later hang out with and we’d talk and become besties instantly, <em>instantly</em>. You can see where this is going: fear made me force connections and while in one or two cases, I’ve actually gotten lucky, and kept the friends I made in the beginning, it just wasn’t sustainable. I was tired out from trying so hard, every new meeting felt like an audition, and when things didn’t go well—not <em>badly</em>, just not <em>great</em>—I felt crushed, as though I had personally failed.</p>
<p>The truth is by the time you’re in your forties, you have a pretty clear idea of what you enjoy and what you don’t. If you’re very lucky, you have some good friendships already—even if not in the same city—so you know what your model for relationships should look like. It’s one year later now and I <em>have</em> some friends, and also, vitally, more to do and keep myself occupied with, so I’m not quite so eager any more. It’s a bit like dating, isn’t it, except at least with dating you have sex to distract you and in the case of friendships, there’s actually no stakes at all. If you think about it, friends are the least transactional relationships you can have, you could walk away from them at any time, and the only reason to make an effort is if you enjoy the company of the person as exactly who they are.</p>
<p><em>Lenni and Margot</em> is uplifting literature. I don’t mean literally, I mean that’s the genre it falls into. Think Amor Towles or Frederik Bachmann or that book about an Elinor someone? <em>Lessons in Chemistry</em> (which I enjoyed despite myself)? Books which follow a routine: quirky underdog, often unloved/misunderstood, makes an unlikely friendship, everything is okay in the end! (Well—and this isn’t a spoiler because it’s on the blurb, in Lenni and Margot’s case they’re on an end-of-life ward so not quite <em>okay</em> in the end, but you know, lessons learned, plotholes tied up.)</p>
<p>did a really good job summing up his mixed feelings about upmarket fiction over here so I'll let you read that first before I add my own thoughts.</p>
<div class="embedded-post-wrap" data-attrs="{"id":111918429,"url":"https://biblioracle.substack.com/p/when-upmarket-fiction-doesnt-work","publication_id":72716,"publication_name":"The Biblioracle Recommends","publication_logo_url":"https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fb9b814c6-6771-4a55-aa39-62e11b6bffa5_1280x1280.png","title":"When Upmarket Fiction Doesn't Work (For Me)","truncated_body_text":"So I decided to read Lessons in Chemistry by Bonnie Garmus because it seemed like everyone else was. This is not like me because I am self-declaredly famous for not reading certain books precisely because so many other people are reading them. I even wrote a","date":"2023-04-02T15:05:29.163Z","like_count":37,"comment_count":24,"bylines":[{"id":13850414,"name":"John Warner","handle":"biblioracle","previous_name":null,"photo_url":"https://bucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com/public/images/a3e2e53f-31d5-47a5-a5b7-f5e7bdd8df21_3909x2932.jpeg","bio":"Author WHY THEY CAN'T WRITE and its companion, THE WRITER'S PRACTICE, both on sale everywhere. Regular contributor @insidehighered, @ChiTribBooks.","profile_set_up_at":"2021-04-20T14:51:14.378Z","publicationUsers":[{"id":245743,"user_id":13850414,"publication_id":292027,"role":"admin","public":true,"is_primary":false,"publication":{"id":292027,"name":"Educational Endeavors","subdomain":"educationalendeavors","custom_domain":null,"custom_domain_optional":false,"hero_text":"Exploring and bridging the gap between \"schooling\" and \"learning.\"","logo_url":"https://bucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com/public/images/4b128e68-c0b1-4e39-9f21-ff75eadf45c7_1280x1280.png","author_id":13850414,"theme_var_background_pop":"#25BD65","created_at":"2021-02-20T15:44:16.379Z","rss_website_url":null,"email_from_name":null,"copyright":"John Warner","founding_plan_name":null,"community_enabled":true,"invite_only":false,"payments_state":"disabled"}},{"id":235215,"user_id":13850414,"publication_id":72716,"role":"admin","public":true,"is_primary":false,"publication":{"id":72716,"name":"The Biblioracle Recommends","subdomain":"biblioracle","custom_domain":null,"custom_domain_optional":false,"hero_text":"Weekly essays on reading the world and reading in the world, plus personalized book recommendations based on the last five books you've read.","logo_url":"https://bucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com/public/images/b9b814c6-6771-4a55-aa39-62e11b6bffa5_1280x1280.png","author_id":13850414,"theme_var_background_pop":"#6C0095","created_at":"2020-07-25T15:11:22.000Z","rss_website_url":null,"email_from_name":null,"copyright":"John Warner","founding_plan_name":"Founding Member","community_enabled":true,"invite_only":false,"payments_state":"enabled"}}],"is_guest":false,"bestseller_tier":100}],"utm_campaign":null,"belowTheFold":true,"type":"newsletter"}"><a class="embedded-post" native="true" href="https://biblioracle.substack.com/p/when-upmarket-fiction-doesnt-work?utm_source=substack&utm_campaign=post_embed&utm_medium=web">
<div class="embedded-post-header"><img class="embedded-post-publication-logo" src="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_56,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fb9b814c6-6771-4a55-aa39-62e11b6bffa5_1280x1280.png" loading="lazy" /><span class="embedded-post-publication-name">The Biblioracle Recommends</span></div>
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<div class="embedded-post-title">When Upmarket Fiction Doesn't Work (For Me)</div>
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<div class="embedded-post-body">So I decided to read Lessons in Chemistry by Bonnie Garmus because it seemed like everyone else was. This is not like me because I am self-declaredly famous for not reading certain books precisely because so many other people are reading them. I even wrote a…</div>
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<div class="embedded-post-meta">a month ago · 37 likes · 24 comments · John Warner</div>
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<p>Lack of connection is my biggest problem. I felt absolutely <em>nothing</em> for Lenni and Margot, even after reading an entire book about them. Lenni is a seventeen year old girl dying of cancer, Margot is an eighty three year old woman who tells Lenni her life story. At no point was I moved or even, frankly, that interested. I could “see the strings” so to speak, I knew that at this point I was supposed to cry, at this other point I was supposed to shake my head fondly and go, “That Lenni!” But these characters were <em>flat</em>, set pieces almost. A list of points supposed to make you feel things, like a Netflix Christmas movie.</p>
<p>Don’t get me wrong: a lot of up lit is nicely done. I still feel manipulated but pleasantly so. It’s like when you read Agatha Christie and you solve the puzzle along with Poirot. A pleasant brain scratch, like doing a crossword puzzle. But while Christie never makes me impatient (her ideal detective book, she once said, stopped at 50,000 words), these ones do. I’m so often waiting to feel something that by the time I reach the end I’m more irritated than I normally would be. [<em>Lessons in Chemistry</em> was saved for me mainly because of the dog character, I liked him a lot even though he was basically a dog genius that understood everything and was a stand-in parent.]</p>
<p>Anyway the book club was okay. Most people gave the book a six or seven out of ten, I gave it a three—which did not help me win friends and influence people. At some points I thought I was talking too much, but no one else was saying anything, so what could I do? After two years of therapy, I’ve become okay with having unpopular opinions—or at least, expressing them in public. Not every meeting is destined to hold your new best friend, a lesson learned late for me, but better late than never. (I’m particularly working on ironing out all my “people pleasing” tendencies, so I’m more awkward and silent these days than I’ve ever been, but happier for it.)</p>
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<figcaption class="image-caption">Me with my Book Club Opinions</figcaption>
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<p>Related: I’m getting a bunch of messages from so-called “book marketing” services. Most are straightforward, offering me deals of 100 rupees per review, which they claim they’ll flood on Amazon and Goodreads. Today I got one that offered me “tailor made author branding” and curating “in-person author experiences.” You’ve got to wonder if these people read your bios at all before sending out their messages (almost always on Instagram DM). They probably don’t. I wouldn’t advise you to sign up for any of these, they seem scammy. On the other hand, what can I say about actually being able to sell your book? You hope for the best, even eight books later, and you hope the people talking about your book will help sell it. I’ve had launches with three people in an empty bookstore, and famously, a reading at a cafe where it was just me (and a couple who was there on a date, but who couldn’t leave after I fixed them with my gimlet eye). The truth is, you’ve got to hustle, even if it might make you unpopular, and hope that your book captures enough of the zeitgeist that it becomes a movement, a phenomenon. Having a newsletter helps, of course. Hand out free copies judiciously, and remember, readers can usually sniff out a paid for marketing campaign and that might make them (unfairly) avoid your book, even if it’s the greatest work of social commentary since Jane Austen.</p>
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<p><strong>Just a fun thing:</strong> Happened to book tickets very late at night one day for a comedy musical improv night, and was regretting it when the day finally rolled around yesterday. I’d been out late the night before, and this must be old age, because even though I was careful not to drink too much and eat my dinner at a proper hour etc etc, I was still sleepwalking all through the next day. I actually told myself I’d only go out three times a week during the summer, but I feel my low energy levels are going to limit me to maybe only once. Twice if I’m lucky. Or maybe I should resist the lure of late night spots and go home at 11 pm no matter how much fun I’m having. Old age! It comes to us all!</p>
<p>Anyway, the improv group is called <a href="https://www.instagram.com/kaleidoscope.improv/">Kaleidoscope</a> and they were doing basically my favourite bit from <em>Whose Line Is It Anyway</em>, where they took audience suggestions and made up a song on the spot. In the second act, they did a long Broadway show, also completely improvised. It was really good! And really funny.</p>
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<p><strong>Currently reading:</strong></p>
<p><em>Anne Frank: A Graphic Memoir:</em> Picked this up on a whim from the library, just to revisit it and found myself deeply moved once more. It’s the uncensored Anne Frank (her father bowdlerised bits) so there’s also long descriptions about the female genital organs and so on, but mostly, it’s so beautifully done. The art is vivid, she comes <em>alive</em>, and again I was struck by how well and clearly she wrote. The world lost someone who could have been one of the finest writers in it if she had been allowed to grow up. Would recommend this graphic novel if you can find it, the pictures are beautiful.</p>
<p><em>The Sea, The Sea</em> by Iris Murdoch: Also a library book. My first Murdoch, the Booker winning memoirs of a man who has taken a remote cottage by the sea. He used to be an actor, and had lots of lovers, and is he slowly going mad or do <em>creatures</em> exist? Slow read, but beautiful.</p>
<p><em>The Covenant of Water</em> by Abraham Varghese: If a white person had written this I’m sure I’d roll my eyes at how the people smile with white teeth in brown skin blah blah blah exotic India during the Raj, but I’m giving him a pass (for now) because the first section of the book is about a child bride being brought to Travancore to marry a forty year old widower and that’s really vivid and finely done, so I’m hoping this second bit (Scottish doctor arrives in Madras) is going to improve as well. It’s a <em>mammoth</em> book, and I’m only 15% through so who knows, who knows.</p>
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<p><strong>Currently cooking:</strong></p>
<p>Gosh, how much cooking I do these days. And I’m really into it? It’s the best hobby. (When I get bored there’s always frozen pizza which is delicious and/or pesto on pasta.) But I was searching for a nice simple chicken pulao recipe, not biryani, I can never do it well enough to be happy with it, but just rice with chicken, Singapore/Indian adjacent. I found <a href="https://www.flourandspiceblog.com/hyderabadi-chicken-pulao-2/#recipe">this nice recipe</a> and it turned out beautifully. (I added a tablespoon of Shan Bombay Biryani masala to it.) (You may not be able to get Shan masala in India easily, because it’s Pakistani, so any sort of biryani masala works as well, I should think.)</p>
<p>Also because our microwave is broken, it tasted even better reheated on a pan with a spoon of ghee, which made the bottom layer crispy and the top soft and fluffy, so there’s an extra tip. I used chicken legs which we shredded once the rice was cooked, so each bite had a bit of chicken in it.</p>
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<p class="cta-caption">Thank you for reading The Internet: Personified . This post is public so feel free to share it.</p>
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<p>No links this week, because I haven’t read anything super interesting, so send me things! I’m at a bit of a loose end, so I’m looking for new exciting things.</p>
<p>Platform Magazine asked me a bunch of questions though, so if you want to read about what I was thinking when I wrote <em>Soft Animal,</em> you can <a href="https://www.platform-mag.com/literature/soft-animal.html">do that here</a>.</p>
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<p>As always, have a great week and I hope to see you for the book discussion on the 21st!</p>
<p>xx</p>
<p>m</p>
<p><strong>Who are you?</strong> <em>Meenakshi Reddy Madhavan, writer of internet words (and other things) author of seven books (<a href="http://www.amazon.in/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=meenakshi+reddy+madhavan">support me by buying a book!)</a> and general city-potter-er.<br />
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Follow me on <a href="http://twitter.com/reddymadhavan">Twitter</a>, <a href="http://facebook.com/thecompulsiveconfessor">Facebook</a> and <a href="http://instagram.com/decemberschild">Instagram</a>. (Plus my <a href="https://instagram.com/minnareads">book recommendation</a> Instagram!)<br /></em></p>
<p><em>Forward to your friends if you liked this and to one of those spam marketing messages disguised as real ones if you didn’t.<br />
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Also, write back to me! I love to hear from you.</em></p>
eMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12716202062654957842noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7382033.post-23109116780037220792023-04-26T23:51:00.001+05:302023-04-26T23:51:52.125+05:30The Internet Personified: Several observations and an event<p>Dearest daffodils,</p>
<p>It’s out! The book I wrote during the pandemic and then worked on for a few years after, finally now, in the third anniversary of the lockdown is available on thankfully non-lockdown-ed shelves.</p>
<p>Almost all bookstores across India stock it. (If they don’t, please let me know and I’ll fix it.) It would be very helpful if you were to actually go to a store and ask for it, space being limited, shops often only stock what’s “in demand” and only reorder books once the first lot of 3 or 4 sell out. Readers outside India, I have no good news for you yet, however, if you still have a Kindle India account, you can buy it wherever you are. I’m not in India to sign copies right now, although if you email me, I can send you a digital personalised inscription you can print out and stick to the front of your book, because we’re super modern like that. (Reply to this newsletter or meenakshimadhavanATgmailDOTcom.)</p>
<p>Of course, if you’re super busy and just don’t go to bookshops any more, here is the link to *sigh* Amazon as well. I hate linking to them because they offer hefty discounts where almost all of the discount is straight out of the author’s pocket, HOWEVER, they <em>are</em> extremely convenient, so don’t feel guilty, I do it all the time as well.</p>
<p class="button-wrapper" data-attrs="{"url":"https://www.amazon.in/dp/0143454471?ref_=cm_sw_r_mwn_dp_1Y2BJDEQEHQ3S5H91517","text":"Buy Soft Animal online","action":null,"class":null}"><a class="button primary" href="https://www.amazon.in/dp/0143454471?ref_=cm_sw_r_mwn_dp_1Y2BJDEQEHQ3S5H91517"><span>Buy Soft Animal online</span></a></p>
<p>I’d recommend you get a physical copy because it has these really cool footnotes that are more fun to read on paper, but of course, they’ve done wonders with the ebook version as well, and shelf space is valuable.</p>
<p>If you are buying it off Amazon, could I ask that you leave me a review as well? This bumps up the book in the algorithm and makes it more visible in search results. A totally honest review, of course. We’re not in the book praising business, only honest critiques.</p>
<p>Anyway, that’s my selling done for now. Expect to see a little reminder about the book in the intro section of this newsletter for a while, but no other news unless it’s really exciting.</p>
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<p><em><strong>Observations</strong></em></p>
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<p>I was recently thinking about this guy I used to know. Not <em>know</em>-know, but just know. We were friends, I went to his house for a few parties. I don’t know what brought him into my mind, I recall when I thought of him, sitting on a sofa, watching <em>Indian Matchmaking</em>—oh yes, it was one of the people on the show. He didn’t physically resemble this guy from my past at all, but something about the way he was talking triggered the memory. Anyway, I realised it had been a good fifteen years since I had heard anything of him, which would not be so unusual had I not been acquainted with lots of our common friends. How do some people vanish so completely from our lives? Is the severing of our connection a physical act, as though we are attached by string and it’s cut with scissors or is our connection more like a chalk line which fades away, blown away by the wind and when it isn’t refreshed, just vanishes, leaving no trace at all?</p>
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<li>
<p>Connected: we are throwing our first Berlin house party. Or our first “official” Berlin house party, we’ve had smaller groups over before and last winter, right before I left, I invited some people to a bar and they came over after. This will be a party with food that I will cook, and people that I would like to befriend. Some are, of course, already friends of that special quality you only get in your late thirties and early forties with other people in your same circumstances. You become close, but you realise you have life and work and boundaries and so the closeness has mutual respect and regard for each other’s time, and yet so many years of stories to catch up on! So much to delight in!</p>
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<li>
<p><em>How do you make friends in a new city</em> is a question that comes up a lot on Facebook groups and the Berlin subreddit, and the answers are usually, “Join some sort of sports team” or “have a hobby.” And these are great answers! I just hate sports and my hobbies are solo ones: reading, art, watching TV, not a lot of group participation there. But really, it’s mostly about swallowing your pride. If you meet someone you like, you ask for their number. You message them, once, twice, thrice (maybe not all in the same week, there’s a balance between enthusiastic and stalker.) You arrange all the meetings, offering plans and times. You go to them. You put yourself out there. And sooner or later, you’ll have a friend who will also make plans with you. A bit like dating, but there’s no “wait for three days to call them back.” I say message them immediately saying how much you enjoyed your time together and making a tentative plan to meet again. Invite them to a party even. Now as to how you <em>meet</em> this interesting person into whom you will be pouring your effort, for that you might have to try hobbies or sports. (Sorry.) (I also have two good friends here but with whom I share Delhi connections so I got lucky in that regard.) People enjoy being liked and admired especially in a platonic way, so if you’re open about your liking and admiration I don’t see why you couldn’t be surrounded by people in your new city.</p>
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<p>I wonder what it is that divides a city into blocks, so you’ll never leave your own neighbourhood if you don’t have to. Bombay had it, and I put it down to traffic, people don’t want to spend an hour on the road just to meet someone for drinks in another suburb, so you have friends limited to your area. (And why a Colaba woman might never date that lovely person in Malad.) Delhi also has horrific traffic, but somehow all of South Delhi is a monolith, you hop in your car (or an Uber) and travel ten-fifteen kilometres within South Delhi but somehow if it’s North or West, it’s “too far.” Berlin is very kiez-y (kiez = neighbourhood.) It’s almost a joke, but also not. Since we live in Friedrichshain (East, where a lot of your favourite clubs are, rapidly gentrifying but still refreshingly ugly) we are wedded to it. Luckily for us, there’s lots of reasons to explore other parts: the Turkish food is much better slightly to the West of us, a lot of friends live elsewhere etc, otherwise we’d never get out of our particular pocket. A lot of people in Berlin never do. It’s like a curse, a well appointed kiez.</p>
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<li>
<p>Although finding a place to stay is half chance and half arranged marriage. There’s a good reality show idea for you: <em>Berlin Househunting</em>! Anyway, we weren’t really given much of a choice as to street and locality, we went to a bunch of viewings, saw a bunch of places and we were approved for this one (second on the list, but the first people got someplace else and dropped out.) It’s been lucky, I have a good friend who is my neighbour, two train stations almost equidistant to the house, <em>four</em> supermarkets from very cheap to fancy organic, lots of bars and a trendy area a ten minute walk away which is ideal because then people don’t wake you up by partying underneath your windowsill. [Also five Indian restaurants on this road alone but we avoid them, they cater to German tastes and are about as Indian as a Coronation Chicken sandwich.] [The restaurants are, on the whole, pretty average as I’ve said before. Not in all of Berlin, of course, there are some lovely places to eat, but in this area I haven’t found much to blow me away.]</p>
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<li>
<p>So many times in the last three months I’ve found myself stopping and going, “Oh huh I’m living my regular life.” After a year and a half of back and forth between India and Germany, I’d gotten kind of used to constant motion. No sooner had I settled down in one spot than I’d be off again, no sooner were my groceries from India used up than I’d be able to buy new ones again. What I’m saying is this life, the one I’m leading right now, it always felt transient, temporary. Like I was just taking a break from my life in Delhi. We didn’t even have pictures on the wall. It was like the cats and K and me, we were all just taking a break from our regular programming. Sometimes I’d even feel jealous of the cats, like how they get to stay in our house all the time and I have to keep leaving. A few days ago, I bought something online for the first time. Here, I mean. I treated <em>this</em> like my normal life. I have to keep stopping and reminding myself that I don’t have to do everything immediately, that I have a long time to let things unfold. I was joking last time I was in India about how I have a Life A and a Life B, and they keep swapping depending on which country I’m in, and now I’m in Life A, and Life B is on hold. So bizarre but so comforting.</p>
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<li>
<p>I was at this club called Sisyphos the other day, but not in its club avatar, it was actually open during the week as a flea market, which was quite bad. Children screaming everywhere, overpriced goods, but we (my two friends and I) had a drink and a snack and then walked home by the river, which was lovely and had a spectacular sunset. While we were waiting in line for pizza (other option: bao-burgers, which were very small and didn’t look that nice), we started talking about the German word “vielleicht” and how it sounds almost like Hindi. (Pronounced ‘fill-highsht’ I realised much later that it sounds like ‘filhaal’ which is ‘presently’ in Urdu and not at all the same meaning as vielleicht means “perhaps” but the same sounds sorta.) There was a woman behind us in the queue, German, our age, perhaps younger, and she began by saying, almost angrily, “Excuse me, are you [something] [maybe she used the word ‘upset’? I’m not sure] that German is not the same as Hindi?” So of course we laughed and clarified, but she took this as a way to, I don’t know, interrogate us about India, but in the most ignorant way. She wasn’t <em>racist</em>, I don’t think, but she was quite <em>stupid</em>. She seemed to get stuck most of all by the fact that all three of us were speaking English. “You’re from India and you’re speaking English!” she kept saying. At this point, I got bored and turned away from her to examine the slices, but my friend, with more patience than I, tried to explain about many different languages, blah blah blah but this chick would <em>not</em> stop with the, “omg how is <em>English</em> all of your [as in us three] first language?” I don’t expect people to know a lot about India (even though it’s a very large country and a little knowledge never killed anyone) but the <em>confidence</em> with which this woman just <em>waded in</em> to a private conversation between three people and displayed her ignorance was just baffling. And how she didn’t seem to pick up on any social cues either, just merrily being like, “OMG DO YOU GUYS HAVE ELEPHANTS?” (Not really, I’m only joking, but you know what I mean.)</p>
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<figcaption class="image-caption">Beautiful Spree sunset, I took this on my phone and I’m very pleased with it</figcaption>
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<p>There is, I have heard, the occasional very mean racist person in Berlin that one encounters, but on the whole this is a pleasant open-minded city which is extremely diverse and also pretty safe for your lone woman walking home by herself, which is a TREAT. These days I’ve got a Stephen King audiobook I borrowed via my library app and I just get out and walk for about 30-45 minutes, listening to the story, just wandering about, making the streets my own. It’s really nice.</p>
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<p>On that note, I end. I just poured myself a glass of wine (7 pm and I’m alone at home writing this to you, the sun’s just come out after a long cloudy day) and I’m thinking of you reading this at whatever time it is for you. I hope you’re also well and happy.</p>
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<p><em><strong>Currently reading:</strong></em></p>
<p>I’ve been in a huuuuuuge reading rut, so literally all I’ve done recently is re-read Marian Keyes, but yesterday I went to my own shelves and pulled out <em>Midnight In the Garden of Good and Evil</em> which is beautiful narrative non-fiction about the American South, specifically Savannah, where the author had to put a little note in going, “hey btw this is non-fiction and not a novel.” I too would like to visit Savannah.</p>
<p>Today my friend wanted to go to a few bookstores so we walked to the Berlin Shakespeare and Sons (not related to the Paris one, I asked) where instead of just looking at the books, I actually bought one (SO EXPENSIVE HERE) but this was one I wanted in print and to own. It’s collected German stories and essays but with the English translation on one page and the German on the other. Very cool, and nice stories as well.</p>
<p>We also stopped at a little cafe I know of which sells all their second hand books for 2 euro, and has a sizeable English collection. I bought:</p>
<p><em>Mutton</em> by India Knight (hilar.)</p>
<p><em>The Collector</em> by John Fowles (re-read but TERRIFYING, I don’t know what possessed me, a woman who is enjoying walking around on her own, to purchase this book that is a cautionary tale for women who walk around on their own. One of the scariest books I’ve ever read, keen to see if it still scares me since I’m somewhat inured to that sort of thing now.)</p>
<p><em>Some Hope</em> by Edward St Aubyn (have wanted to read the Patrick Melrose books for a while. Enjoyed the first in a ‘this is good writing’ way not in a ‘great story’ way, because again it’s quite desperate, and this is a trilogy.)</p>
<p><em>The Last September</em> by Elizabeth Bowen (looked nice, I like her.)</p>
<p><em>The Wizard of Earthsea</em> by Ursula Le Guin (is that one word or two? Re-read, wanted to own it.)</p>
<p>What have you bought and/or read recently? (Besides my book OBVIOUSLY!)</p>
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<p><em><strong>links links links</strong></em></p>
<p>Quite a <a href="https://magazine.atavist.com/sins-of-the-father-san-francisco-vaccines-murder-suicide/?">sad antivaxxer story</a>.</p>
<p>India’s beef <a href="https://thebaffler.com/salvos/indias-beef-with-beef-deepak">with beef</a>.</p>
<p>Inside the <a href="https://www.gq-magazine.co.uk/lifestyle/article/inside-the-temple-of-sadhguru">temple of Sadhguru</a>. (I mean, I think the journo went with zero Sadhguru context, so this story is quite tame, but it’s an interesting insight into one of his American retreats.)</p>
<p>On <a href="https://smdanler.substack.com/p/on-pretend-cooking?utm_source=substack&utm_medium=email">pretend cooking</a>.</p>
<p>A great essay on <em><a href="https://www.thewhitereview.org/feature/attachment-barbies/?utm_source=substack&utm_medium=email">Grey’s Anatomy</a>.</em> (which K keeps insisting on calling “Grey’s Academy” which is… close.)</p>
<p>And that’s all I’ve got! Remember to drink lots of water and also, yes please, buy my book.</p>
<p>xx</p>
<p>m</p>
<p><strong>Who are you?</strong> <em>Meenakshi Reddy Madhavan, writer of internet words (and other things) author of seven books (<a href="http://www.amazon.in/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=meenakshi+reddy+madhavan">support me by buying a book!)</a> and general city-potter-er.<br />
<br />
Follow me on <a href="http://twitter.com/reddymadhavan">Twitter</a>, <a href="http://facebook.com/thecompulsiveconfessor">Facebook</a> and <a href="http://instagram.com/decemberschild">Instagram</a>. (Plus my <a href="https://instagram.com/minnareads">book recommendation</a> Instagram!)<br /></em></p>
<p><em>Forward to your friends if you liked this and to people who keep asking you dumb questions if you didn’t.<br />
<br />
Also, write back to me! I love to hear from you.</em></p>
eMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12716202062654957842noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7382033.post-3781765824658432452023-04-05T21:19:00.001+05:302023-04-05T21:19:54.963+05:30The Internet Personified: How to write a book<p>Gather around, my supportive satsumas,</p>
<p>Happy Easter weekend! Here in Germany, it’s a loooong weekend, so I anticipate Berlin will be quite empty by Thursday evening. As for us, we just have to be organised enough to shop for our groceries much in advance, which is a tall order, and I suspect we’ll be down to pantry staples and pommes (fries) from the shawarma shop across the road by Tuesday. It’s still much colder than it has any business being in April, but every morning my little winter garden/study is flooded with sun, so the cats and I sit here and bask.</p>
<p>The pre-order link for Soft Animal is live! The book comes out on April 24, and if you’d like to read it the very minute it hits stores, be sure and click the link which is <a href="https://www.amazon.in/dp/0143454471?ref_=cm_sw_r_mwn_dp_1Y2BJDEQEHQ3S5H91517">here</a>.</p>
<p>Here’s the praise the book got already.</p>
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<p>I’m not going to be in India doing any book events this year, so all my appearances will be virtual, which means it’s extra important you pre-order (or just order!) Authors get new book deals based on how well their previous books have done, and if you vote with your wallet, as it were, then it helps keep me afloat. To paraphrase what Rilke said in <em>Letters to a Young Poet</em>, I wish I could give you all copies of my book because it makes me so happy when my words reach people that actually <em>get</em> them, but sadly I am poor and don’t own more than ten author copies. The rest depends on people buying them and letting bookstores know to stock me.</p>
<p>So pre-order! Push me up the Amazon rating list! Let me write more books for you!</p>
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<h1>How to write a book: an explanation</h1>
<ol>
<li>
<p>Begin in childhood. Be an odd, lonely, bookish child. Realise the difference between having lots of people around you and people knowing your heart. When you think of being a child, you often think first of being alone with a book, but if you start to unravel that memory, you remember you used to have a lot of friends. They just weren’t like the people you knew intimately, people you had read about so often that their pages grew spattered with food, the spines bent, the covers fell off, again and again you returned to them, almost like you were being them, pulling yourself into their world, until you knew them better than yourself. Admit this to no one. Play with your friends and your cousins so well that no one realises you are actually two people, an inward and an outward. Begin keeping a diary, but soon grow dissatisfied with your own limited vocabulary. Begin writing a book in a spare notebook in class, a large family saga, the kind you like to play by yourself in your room—an orphan girl taken in by a large family, but this time everyone is Indian. You read books about white children, and you adapt them to your world. You find a tape recorder and record an audio play—all parts played by you. You call the family you invent something long and elaborate, the Goenkars, say, or the Goswalas. Every book you read has a large family, it is the only one you know how to invent.</p>
</li>
<li>
<p>Are your imaginary friends imaginary to you as well? You know they’re not real, right? How did you name them—what made them be called Sarah and Gaurav? Sarah is the bossy older sister, Gaurav is a little whiny. They both think you’re great, they both think you could do anything you want. They will teach you how to fly. In your new neighbourhood, the other children aren’t very nice. You wait instead for Sarah and Gaurav, the three of you can play, but you know they’re not real, and so you drift wistfully to the park, and watch the other children who have known each other since birth, swap friendly asides. They’re all in twos: sets of siblings. Even your imaginary friends are siblings. George of <em>The Famous Five</em> isn’t, though. She has a dog. You wish you had a dog.</p>
</li>
<li>
<p>When you make friends, Sarah and Gaurav disappear and never come alive again. You feel guilty, <em>where do imaginary friends go</em>? But they have each other, so they’ll be fine.</p>
</li>
<li>
<p>The other twelve-year-old girls seem so much older than you at your new school. You are still reading Judy Blume, but the bookshop owner recommends <em>Sweet Valley High</em>. It’s what everyone else your age is reading, he says. You clutch your copy of <em>Superfudge</em>.</p>
</li>
<li>
<p>You see a captive bear and it makes you write a letter to the editor of a newspaper. The editor not only prints it, he sets it in the centre of the page with an illustration. It’s your first byline—it has your name and your age and your school. An older student comes up to your classroom and asks for you, asks if you’d like to join the nature club since you seem to have an interest in nature. Nature Club isn’t as exciting as it sounds, but you are so thrilled to have been personally recognised, personally requested. You realise how heady that feeling is—your classmates still don’t get you, but someone else did.</p>
</li>
<li>
<p>Your parents’ friend is starting a children’s section in a newspaper. You’re too many years away from learning about <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nepo_baby#:~:text=The%20term%20became%20popular%20in,numerous%20other%20celebrity%20nepotism%20babies.">nepo babies</a> so you ask if you can get paid. To your surprise, the editor agrees, you get Rs 350 per article. You begin the personal essay trend in the kid’s pages of a newspaper, writing about your friends. You get into trouble for mentioning one by her initials, how many boyfriends she has. She’s only thirteen. Your friends surround you the next day, slit-eyed with judgement and superiority. “My <em>father</em> said,” says one, “That Meenakshi must not be a real friend at all.” Luckily, the subject’s parents don’t get the newspaper. It cures you of writing about your friends—at least, with identifying details. You learn a valuable lesson: if you don’t want to get caught, enough of it has to be made up. You also don’t know the words “plausible deniability” but if you did, you’d be applying it here. You don’t write any more for the newspaper, you wonder: <em>am I a</em> real friend<em>?</em> It’s sad to think maybe you’re not, but <em>everyone</em> had read your writing. There <em>was</em> that.</p>
</li>
<li>
<p>You keep a diary. You make friends. You work on the school newspaper. You learn <em>human connection</em>, and you know some parts of you are just yours. You’re living a story you’re telling yourself about a well-adjusted young woman. Where there were Sarah and Gaurav, now there is you. When you’re out, some part of you detaches, and this part writes everything down—in your head, and later in your journal. Because it’s private, you use it for social observations. Sometimes you’re so pleased with your turn of phrase, you wish someone else could see it, but mostly, you’re happy to have a place where you admit to being uncomfortable and angry and sad. That’s the only time you write in your diary. The rest of the time, you’re drifting along, but you’re keeping up your fiction in other notebooks. It gives you pleasure to write, to tell yourself a story. You’re not writing it for anyone else, and so your stories are as self-indulgent as it is possible to be.</p>
</li>
<li>
<p>You grow up. You get a job at a newspaper. You decide for the first time since that kid’s page many years ago to write about your life, but for an audience. You start a blog. You haven’t learned, you never will learn. You don’t mention people’s names, but the identifying details are so strong that your colleagues find out anyway. They don’t like being written about. The ones you haven’t written about loudly wonder why—mainly this one guy, much older than you, who seems to hate you. Later you realise his constant comments about what you wore to work—just normal tank tops and jeans—making it so you’d shrink as you passed him, would count as sexual harassment. Of course, it is him who finds your blog, he seems obsessed with you, this older man, he never gives anyone else such a hard time, and he mocks you loudly. You go home in tears and take your blog offline—only, you’re really proud of it. You worked really hard. You delete the post about your colleagues, they’re not <em>that</em> interesting, decide never to write about work people, and change the URL. You call it The Compulsive Confessor, it’s what your mum says you are. You change your username to eM, me spelled backwards, the first letter of your name. You say, “Oh no, I stopped blogging” if your colleagues ask, but honestly, who else is that interested in you, the youngest and least important member of the newsroom? They forget all about it, and as the youngest and least important member of the newsroom you have to stay late with the air conditioning and the fast internet and you write and write and write.</p>
</li>
<li>
<p>Success! Your first book deal! Editors reach out to you because of your blog, you choose Penguin. The newspapers make a big deal about how you write about sex—relationships, really, you tell them. You’re not <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Brooke_Magnanti">Belle de Jour</a>-ing, you’re blogging about being a single woman in India. It’s certainly not X rated. But that doesn’t sell papers—or books for that matter, so you give in. You are very young, you believe you will always be able to write from 1 am to 3 am and then wake up the next day and go to work and go out with your friends and that it’ll only get easier with practice.</p>
</li>
<li>
<p>And then? And then you do it all again, except you can’t, blogs are slowly not becoming a thing any more, other people are writing about single women in India, and besides, you don’t want to repeat yourself over and over again. You branch out. You write other books, just by putting one word in front of another, each time wondering if this is the time you’ve completely forgotten how to do this. You are poor, you are rich. You are well known, you are obscure. Literary darlings appear and disappear. You steal from people’s lives like a magpie and then put them together and tear them apart in your fiction. You don’t discuss your writing while you’re writing. You hate editing, it never comes naturally to you, but as you get older, you realise that for the book you have in your mind to match the book you’ve just put down on page, you need to rewrite, restructure, cut, polish.</p>
</li>
<li>
<p>You wonder: how <em>do</em> I write a book? You realise it is by writing. You work on your books and you occasionally write shorter pieces for money, but you also write for joy. You keep a little notebook next to your laptop where you can make notes about people who pass underneath your window. You need your novel-in-progress to rest between chapters, like dough, so you write down the beginning of a short story, just as a warm up exercise. An email newsletter, even. Joy isn’t to be found in imagining a book launch or big international success, those things are lotteries, some people get them, some don’t, some deserve them, some don’t. Joy is taking something you’re good at and doing it just for you. Joy is writing down things for people, and having them know exactly what you mean.</p>
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<p>I hope you’ll all read (and love) the book! Just sharing the pre-order link once more, because maybe you just decided to buy it and it’ll save you scrolling back up again.</p>
<p class="button-wrapper" data-attrs="{"url":"https://www.amazon.in/dp/0143454471?ref_=cm_sw_r_mwn_dp_1Y2BJDEQEHQ3S5H91517","text":"Pre-order my new book!","action":null,"class":null}"><a class="button primary" href="https://www.amazon.in/dp/0143454471?ref_=cm_sw_r_mwn_dp_1Y2BJDEQEHQ3S5H91517"><span>Pre-order my new book!</span></a></p>
<p>Meanwhile, here are some links, because I also read some excellent things this week:</p>
<p>I wrote about crows and Berlin <a href="https://mrm.substack.com/p/the-internet-personified-just-another">last time</a>, <em>and</em> so did <a href="https://longreads.com/2023/03/23/murder-in-berlin-germany-crows-gentrification-connection/">someone else</a>!</p>
<p>A <a href="https://12ft.io/proxy?q=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.wired.com%2Fstory%2Fbrandon-sanderson-is-your-god">mean but entertaining profile of fantasy writer</a> Brandon Sandersen in <em>Wired</em> which the author responded to <a href="https://www.reddit.com/r/brandonsanderson/comments/1200dzk/on_the_wired_article/?context=">very graciously on Reddit</a>, so worth reading both side by side.</p>
<p>Arundhati Roy on <a href="https://lithub.com/approaching-gridlock-arundhati-roy-on-free-speech-and-failing-democracy/">free speech</a>.</p>
<p><a href="https://aeon.co/essays/breeding-dogs-to-be-cute-and-anthropomorphic-is-animal-cruelty">Breeding dogs to be cute</a> is animal cruelty. (Quite a sad piece because you’ll never look at a pug or a French bulldog the same way again.)</p>
<p>Fomo <a href="https://www.identitytheory.com/fomo-diane-shipley/">and chronic illness</a>.</p>
<p>Inside the home life of <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/global-development/2023/apr/03/they-are-men-they-do-nothing-inside-the-home-lives-of-women-around-the-world">women across the world</a>.</p>
<p>And: because I was intrigued by how Germans eat a cold supper—as compared to India where it seems traditionally women slave over stoves to produce several fresh hot meals every day, I wondered if it had anything to do with female emancipation here. <a href="https://www.mygermantable.com/why-do-germans-eat-a-cold-supper/">It turns out… sorta</a>? But also the thick German folk bread everyone loves was popularised by, yup, the Nazis.</p>
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<p>Have a great week! Don’t forget to share the pre-order link with everyoneeeee you know!</p>
<p>xx</p>
<p>m</p>
<p><strong>Who are you?</strong> <em>Meenakshi Reddy Madhavan, writer of internet words (and other things) author of seven books (<a href="http://www.amazon.in/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=meenakshi+reddy+madhavan">support me by buying a book!)</a> and general city-potter-er.<br />
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eMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12716202062654957842noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7382033.post-66332881849912096282023-03-25T17:50:00.001+05:302023-03-25T17:50:22.522+05:30The Internet Personified: Just another spring newsletter<div>
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<p>Dearest morning cups of coffee,</p>
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<p>I was going through my draft posts on Substack, and I found this from August of last year.</p>
<p><em>Yesterday I found a dictionary in a box on the road. My house guests are getting used to me stopping, staring inside boxes, glancing at bags. Right now, my cousin is staying with me, he has an air of detached amusement as I look at the free things. He’s just packed up his things into one suitcase and is going to travel the world. He doesn’t understand why anyone would want more things even if they are free. I get him to hold my dictionary, the matching set of glass tumblers, perfectly new, each with a different colour at the base. Pretty glasses, I’d buy them. A great dictionary—English to German and vice versa—one I’ve been looking for. Everyone who passes through Berlin and stays with us is subject to a little rave about how great Berlin Presents are, how it’s the ultimate anti-consumerist cycle, you don’t want something and you leave it outside and someone else will take it. Sometimes it’s only junk, but there is a red box outside our front door which I think is the fire safety box, on top of which we have placed objects we no longer wanted, and gone for a walk, and by the time we returned, they were gone. My friend who stayed with us last week got into the spirit of the thing and picked up two scarves. Back home, she realised she didn’t like one of them so much so we left it, folded, on the red box and walked to Hansbach, my favourite local bar, a few blocks away. By the time we returned, swollen with wine and camaraderie, the scarf was gone. Berlin gives and Berlin takes.</em></p>
<p><em>The dictionary was published in 1985—it’s in mint condition, meaning no one from 1985 till now has actually used it properly—and it’s full of words that are no longer in public use. You know the ones. The slurs that were commonplace. The ones that have been phased out by more descriptive, less hateful terms.</em></p>
<p><em>At the Helmut Newton Museum of Photography, we wandered the aisles, gazing up at his large nudes. Beautiful women in high heels smoking or eating or lying down. Why must they all be in high heels? Why must they all be beautiful?</em></p>
<p>Berlin Presents. Less than a year later, I’ve learned these things have cycles to them. In the winter, there are fewer boxes, the clothes are mostly woollen and/or useless. Still: the other night, K and I walked to this punk bar called Supamolly, not far from us, it also is on the ground floor of a squat, I think, and there was a rack of clothing outside with some actual nice things, not just <em>nice for the side of the road</em> things. I picked up four—a sweater, an oversized sweatshirt, a dress and another sweater, which turned out to be too small for me, and which I, in turn, passed on to my friend’s son, who likes yellow as much as I do.</p>
<p>I am currently at K’s parents’ home west of us, near Frankfurt, in a small village where no one leaves their junk outside. It’s funny, my idea of beauty is usually narrow cobblestoned streets, buildings with a sense of history no matter where they are in the world, a shaft of sun filtering through a tree dusty from the side of the road, fairy lights in a balcony, that sort of thing, and here I am faced with hills that <em>literally</em> roll, landscape that <em>literally</em> stops you in your tracks to gawp, after a while it all becomes very much Screensaver, you like it, because it’s pretty and it’s there but you stop <em>seeing</em> it, I guess. I did very much enjoy my walk yesterday with K and his mum, looking for sticks* and spotting a beaver in the river (although it could have also been a water rat, either way it was small and plump and cute. The large beavers you’re probably thinking of—as was I—are an invasive species from North America.)</p>
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<figcaption class="image-caption">See? Almost stupidly beautiful and bucolic. I am pleased with the way this photo turned out though.</figcaption>
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<p>(*Call it penis envy, but when I go for a walk in nature, I always look for a nice stick to wave. I was practicing my German by telling K and his mum this story yesterday: when I was a child on holiday in Hyderabad with my cousins, we’d often compete to find the perfect stick. There aren’t that many perfect ones, and usually the winner—the finder, the bearer—would be subject to jealousy from the rest of us. So much was the perfect stick resented, that the others would try to break it, or take it away from you—boys!—but I always loved when I found The Stick, feeling powerful and adventure-y. So looking for a stick is a habit that has not faded. K also found one, getting into the spirit of things, and in the end we dropped them in the river and watched them float away, a sort of Saying Goodbye to Perfect Stick ceremony.)</p>
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<p>Ideally, I wanted this newsletter to go out with a pre-order link but since I don’t have one yet, here is the cover reveal of my new book! Isn’t it beautiful? It was designed by Gunjan Ahlawat at Penguin, whose other cover designs you <a href="https://www.ahlawatgunjan.com/">can see here</a>. Originally we’d gone for green and pink, but there was another book that looked very similar to it, so Gunjan found this glossy grown up grey—unusual and stunning for a paperback. Click to see the description and the lovely generous blurbs by Meena Kandasamy, Karuna Ezara Parikh and Dhruv Sehgal. I tell you what I’ll do, I’ll send you a separate newsletter with <em>just</em> the pre-order link when it comes out so you can be the first to know (and buy it!)</p>
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<p>After that little advertising interlude, let me get back to my LIFE. I’m here and not in Berlin because of pesky bureaucracy (a word I STILL cannot spell so I always write it as fast as I can and wait for spell check to fix it). I might as well tell you, since maybe one of you will do the same move I did, and while there <em>is</em> information available online, in this case you have to know what to ask for? Which is as complicated as knowing the answers, a very philosophical dilemma.</p>
<p><em>Anyway</em> so once I got my spouse visa—called a Family Reunification Visa—I had three months to change it into a resident’s card. Easy right? Nope. First, I had to get an appointment, which are thin on the ground all over Germany. In Berlin, someone told me recently, there’s actually a Telegram group dealing with <em>black market</em> appointments, ie, you can take someone’s pre-booked slot for like €50 or similar. Over here, in this village and surrounding areas, things aren’t quite as bad but still not great. I booked at the beginning of February and got an appointment for the end of March. I looked at the website and wrote down what I needed, except both K and I completely forgot—or deliberately misremembered? I don’t know, this process is so murky it’s hard to say what we knew and what we didn’t know—that I had to be <em>registered</em> with the local authorities <em>before</em> I got a resident’s permit, ie, the foreigner’s office <em>would not</em> be registering me, that would have to happen in a completely separate place. This was relayed to us at 10.45 am on a Friday, and the local Bürgeramt (fun name, but sadly less delicious than it sounds) closed at noon and refused to see us at all. So, hey ho, I got an appointment for Monday and asked our lovely next door neighbour (in Berlin) to look in on the cats for one more day, only to realise… there’s a transport strike on so I can only return on Tuesday after all, which has nothing to do with my paperwork, I’m just complaining about how the stars are misaligning. (Honestly, German’s biggest PR coup is this idea of “German efficiency,” let me tell you, friends, it does not exist.)</p>
<p>Because my visa runs out next month, now my next step has a part two, where the registration office is going to give me a visa extension while I wait for an appointment either here or in Berlin. This is called a Fiktion, literally a “fiction” which I find funny but also a portent of doom.</p>
<p>All of this just to say that my paperwork journey has not yet ended, even though I was cheerfully assuming that I would walk in and out on Friday, resident’s card in hand. It’s probably lucky that I’m not actively job seeking in Germany right now because I can’t do anythingggggg until this stupid permit comes through.</p>
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<p>There’s not much to do here, and so I usually go to bed after dinner, say 9ish and read till about 11.30 and then sleep solidly and wake up bright and early the next morning. Today I woke up at 7.30 am, and finished reading Richard Yates’ <em>Easter Parade</em> in bed, a beautifully written but ultimately depressing story of two sisters in war and post war America, their different steps taken and how eventually it was no use, no use at all. Good book though, would recommend. I’m on a Richard Yates kick this year so I’ve got a lot of his books on my Kindle and am slowly making my way through them.</p>
<p>So this morning, I woke up at 7.30 am—I checked my wristwatch which is just a regular watch, nothing “smart” about it except that it keeps the time which is quite a miracle—and then I checked my phone, and it <em>still</em> said 7.30, and I was a bit confused and then I looked it up and realised the clocks only go forward tomorrow, in the middle of the night. For the last week, I’ve been slightly obsessed with the idea of time just <em>changing</em>, we’re standing there at midnight and suddenly, without us moving, it’s one am! It’s so weird but also so cool, like we’re all time travellers. Everyone here is so blasé about it, they moan and groan about how it’s such a pain. I was at the dining table yesterday talking about how it was kind of <em>exciting,</em> you know? To have time just <em>jump forward</em> like that? And my mother-in-law said, smiling, “You’re so excited about everything” and it’s true, I really am, and I will be sad next year when this moving-without-moving is just another thing for me to roll my eyes over. Like snow. You wouldn’t think I’d get bored of snow, but walking in it is <em>cold</em>. It’s not even Winter in Narnia Beautiful Cold, it’s just slushy and icy and the only romance is if you’re indoors.</p>
<p>There’s this really funny bit in one of the Adrian Mole books, where he calls his mother and says, “Do the clocks go one hour further or back?” and she says, “Spring forward, fall back!” and he starts shouting at her going, “What does that mean?” and she shouts back: SPRING FORWARD FALL BACK!</p>
<p>I tried it on K, who asked which way the clocks go, I said, “Spring forward fall back” and he said, “WHAT DOES THAT MEANNNNN?” so clearly it is a timeless and true joke. (Even though, come on, in spring your clocks go <em>forward</em>, duh, so 11.30 am today is 12.30 pm tomorrow. Good news for me and India time because it’s a little later for me to get you guys at exactly the same time.)</p>
<p>All this to say that time is a social construct, which drinkers have known for ages, which is why the old saying: “it’s 5 pm <em>somewhere</em>.”</p>
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<figcaption class="image-caption">“Spring!” I say, pointing to all the empty bottles—Berliners love to drink outside in the summer. “Kreuzberg,” replies K. That’s this grotty little super trendy neighbourhood.</figcaption>
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<p>Speaking of spring, for the past few weeks, a pair of crows have been busily making a nest in the tree overlooking our living room, which means we can see them very clearly. I have named one of them Crow Mama (because I liked the pun) so then obvs the other one was Crow Papa—or at least, he is on days I’m feeling gender normative. On others he (or she!) is Crow Mama’s life partner of either sex. They’ve been taking a long time with this nest: first they had to get all these twigs, fuck knows where they found them, and build a little base, which they kept adding to, making walls and a floor, <em>high</em> walls so the chicks won’t fall out, and now they’ve begun lining it with leaves and soft things they’re finding in mysterious places. Every now and then, one of them will sit down in the nest and sort of fluff out their bums, do a little shake so that everything is tamped down nicely, a little circle like a cat settling down in her bed.</p>
<p>Europe has many different kinds of crows, and I was interested to see that these two were very different from the birds I’d seen back in Delhi. The most common crows in India are the house crows—smaller, blacker, with shiny grey feathers. These ones, the ones nesting outside our flat, were much larger and had more grey on their bodies. Turns out they’re the hooded crows, but wait, it’s even more interesting than that. Europe also has a large population of carrion crows, which are all black and more in the West, while hooded crows live in the East, where they have been slowly evolving into two completely separate species <em>despite starting out as the same one</em>.</p>
<p>Now normally, in speciation, two species become one, but in the case of these two kinds of crows, they were forced to split up during the Last Glacial Period, where one set became more grey and the other more black, and <em>then</em> it turned out they didn’t want to mate with the crows of a different colour! So very literally, prejudice has turned these crows from one into two, and you can read all about it in more <a href="https://www.sciencealert.com/two-species-of-crow-are-evolving-before-our-eyes-in-europe">detail over here</a>.</p>
<p>Then the other day, while both the crow parents were out doing their crowly things, a black and white bird with a bright blue side came and stole one of the sticks holding the nest together. This being too long for it, it broke the stick off and then flew away with its half stick.</p>
<p>I got very into birds when we had our small rental in Goa, because that garden was wild and full of them. I had to special order a copy of Salim Ali’s <em>Birds of India</em>, an invaluable (but also sadly very heavy) guidebook, which I kept by my desk and looked up all the different birds I could see. I’m having to start all over again in Europe, I don’t even know the basic names for trees, let alone birds (and most people know the German names for all of those things, which is not especially useful when you’re trying to gain knowledge in the <em>nature</em> section and not the <em>language</em> section). But this bird was common enough for K to know what it was: “that bird that likes to steal shiny things” he said, and sure enough, it was a Eurasian magpie, also part of the general crow family, so really, he was borrowing from cousins.</p>
<p>Now this bird is <em>super</em> intelligent, one of the smartest species, a conclusion scientists have reached, because it’s able to recognise its own face in a mirror, which is kind of remarkable when you consider that Olga da Polga, an extremely intelligent, almost human cat, hissed at her own reflection for three months after we adopted her. Other non-humans that recognise themselves are chimpanzees, dolphins and elephants. I don’t have a follow-up story about my particular magpie doing something smart, but I do have an anecdote that proves how dumb <em>people</em> are. Originally, the magpie was called just the “pie” but people added “Mag” as in “Maggie” as in “a woman’s name” because they chattered all the time. Ho ho ho, the joke’s on <em>you</em> now isn’t it? I’d like to see a smart bird named after a <em>dude</em>.</p>
<p>They also feel sad, which makes me sad. Better to think of animals as constantly living in the present than to imagine them mourning and in grief.</p>
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<figcaption class="image-caption">Sexy AND smart</figcaption>
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<figcaption class="image-caption">Help me continue to feed my soul with tulips (these were a gift!)—and Olga’s body with fancy cat food.</figcaption>
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<h4>Currently reading:</h4>
<p>On book three of my Game of Thrones re-read which is going so well, I’ve also started rewatching the show. Odd to be on book three but to be watching season one, but nice to have some RETROSPECTIVE THOUGHTS.</p>
<p>After I finished Richard Yates on my Kindle, I decided I wanted a soft family story with hard truths again so I’m going to re-read some Anne Tyler, who I love. In the same vein, I pulled out <em>Oh William</em>! by Elizabeth Strout from the library, which was so good, and yet so short, I was sad when it finished.</p>
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<h2>Links you should read</h2>
<p>The better you write, <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2023/02/11/books/review/writers-failure-joyce-melville-boethius.html">the more you will fail</a>.</p>
<p>I really love Lindy West—and her <a href="https://buttnews.substack.com/p/fat-suit-fart-attack-the-whale">take down of Oscar winning</a> <em><a href="https://buttnews.substack.com/p/fat-suit-fart-attack-the-whale">The Whale</a></em> made me laugh-snort but also nod in agreement.</p>
<p>Bird-related: the biggest <a href="https://haleynahman.substack.com/p/139-the-biggest-celeb-in-new-york">celeb in New York</a>.</p>
<p>Visa-related: <a href="https://www.dw.com/en/germany-denies-entry-to-foreign-spouses/a-65065504">Germany denies entry</a> to foreign spouses (who can’t pass the language requirement.)</p>
<p><a href="https://harpers.org/archive/2023/03/frog-what-happens-to-the-pets-that-happen-to-you">What happens to the pets</a> that happen to you (by Anne Fadiman, another favourite essayist.)</p>
<p>On <a href="https://garthgreenwell.substack.com/p/beauty-and-war">blurb-writing</a>, hard relate as I’ve recently been doing a few.</p>
<p>Hilarious: inside <a href="https://nymag.com/intelligencer/article/mark-zuckerberg-metaverse-meta-horizon-worlds.html">the virtual world</a> of Meta.</p>
<p>Last time I had put a bad link to t<a href="https://www.theguardian.com/news/2018/jan/05/william-leith-alcohol-how-did-i-let-drinking-take-over-my-life">his long read about drinking</a>, so here it is again, fixed. (Although I did fix it in the comment section, but I’m not sure how many of you checked.)</p>
<p>Well, it’s nearly lunchtime by my body clock which should really be the only clock that matters. What a wild idea!</p>
<p>Speak soon.</p>
<p>x</p>
<p>m</p>
<p><strong>Who are you?</strong> <em>Meenakshi Reddy Madhavan, writer of internet words (and other things) author of seven books (<a href="http://www.amazon.in/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=meenakshi+reddy+madhavan">support me by buying a book!)</a> and general city-potter-er.<br />
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Follow me on <a href="http://twitter.com/reddymadhavan">Twitter</a>, <a href="http://facebook.com/thecompulsiveconfessor">Facebook</a> and <a href="http://instagram.com/decemberschild">Instagram</a>. (Plus my <a href="https://instagram.com/minnareads">book recommendation</a> Instagram!)<br />
FOR NOW!</em></p>
<p><em>Forward to your friends if you liked this and to the last government officer who stonewalled you if you didn’t.<br />
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Also, write back to me! I love to hear from you.</em></p>
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eMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12716202062654957842noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7382033.post-37680686034870195952023-03-09T20:50:00.001+05:302023-03-09T20:50:27.985+05:30The Internet Personified: Travelling Without Instagram<p>My lovely children of summer,</p>
<p>(<em>Gmail miiiiight eat half this post because of my lovely photos so click on the title to read comfortably in your browser.)</em></p>
<p>There’s this great German phrase my friend Johanna taught me recently. It’s actually a toast when you’re drinking together, which makes perfect sense, because they do enjoy drinking in this part of the world. It goes: “We will not be so young together again.” (<em>So jung kommen wir nicht mehr zussamen</em> for my fellow Deutsch learners.)</p>
<p>We were in Warsaw, at a lovely little wine bar on our final night there, when she taught me this. I was pleasantly melancholy from the wine and the idea of the end of a trip that seemed to finish so much faster than the months we had spent planning it. Later, before I went to bed, I looked it up, technically, <em>technically</em> I guess a drinker could use it to spur on another: “oh go on, have another, we’re not going to be this young again!” But it made me feel the way singing “Auld lang syne” on New Year’s Eve does (yes, I know no one actually does this apart from people on old British period dramas, but before I go <em>out</em> on NYE, say around 6 pm, I start warbling a little, “andddd neverrrrr broughtttt to miiiind” like I’m doing an Adele cover. It drives K mad.) a little bit like you’re going to cry, because life used to be <em>endless</em>, <strong>endless</strong>, you know? And now here we are, forty one, and we have to watch our knees if we step off a stool too suddenly.</p>
<p>Forgive my morbid mood, it’s the cold and the snow and the dark grey skies outside. I really was going somewhere cheerful with this, I promise, but I keep getting tangled up in March in Germany which is <em>nothing</em> like March in Delhi. This March is awful! This March matches, in fact, my board exam mood that I get into at the beginning of every March since I was in high school. But in Northern Europe, spirits are starting to lift. Smiles on faces. There’s a tree to the left of me which I just notice this morning is covered with a delicate dark green moss on the upper branches which wasn’t there last month. In the tree in front of our dining room, two crows are constructing a large and messy nest, today they returned with more twigs and shook the snow off their new home with philosophical resignation. At 6 pm, the sky is a dark blue instead of pitch black. And when the sun comes out as it does, every now and then, it’s actually warm instead of just bright. The biggest sign in our very urban neighbourhood is that the douchebags who use the silent electric scooters on sidewalks, nearly mowing you down if you’re not careful, have started up again. Spring!</p>
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<figcaption class="image-caption">Johanna took this photo of an optimistic sign at a neighbourhood bar our first night. We had great fun with the sign, whisper shouting “SPRING IS COMING” to each other even as a tremendous wind blew our eyelids back and froze our bones.</figcaption>
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<p>What happened is, last week, I decided to just not go on any of my social networks (Twitter, Instagram and to a smaller extent, Facebook) for a day. No particular reason, I was just feeling sort of crowded, too many voices in my head, too many opinions to keep track of. I realised I thumbed my phone like a worry bead, switching between windows in a cycle: Instagram-Twitter-Facebook-Instagram. Every few seconds, pulling down the tray to refresh. Who had something new to say? Who was outraging about something I needed to feel a prickle of indignation/schadenfreude/just here for the comments about? So I took my break, and then the next morning, I continued my break and so on and so forth until I was solidly “digital detoxing” for whatever that’s worth. I fully intended to be back on my socials for Warsaw, but it just felt so <em>nice</em> to be offline, I can’t explain it, it’s like suddenly there’s a whole chunk of mental space. It’s like one of those dreams where you realise that beneath your house there’s a whole smaller house which is <em>yours</em> but you never noticed it before.</p>
<p>I didn’t do anything to force myself. I checked if I had any messages on my socials once a day, but I didn’t feel the need to look at photos or stories or tweets. It all fell into place quite naturally, like I was this non-social-media person this whole time and I just needed to release that inner self. I messaged some friends who interact with me a lot online and told them about it, but for the most part I realised that no one really noticed. For all the extremely online shit I was doing every day from the moment I opened my eyes, I could stay off it for days on end and no one was coming looking for me. It was freeing. I miss my friends and their brief 24-hour updates, that was nice, knowing what everyone was up to all the time, feeling like I had a window into their days no matter where we were, but so much of social media has become a short cut to reaching a whole lot of people at once. Which: terrific! But this means that everyone assumes everyone else has responded to your story with your big news, and so no one does (lonesome), sometimes your besties don’t even <em>see</em> your major updates which you don’t know and then you feel sad they haven’t responded (double lonesome plus resentment) or the thing that one person will find specifically funny but is reaching 2000 people gets diluted because you’re not messaging them one on one. (Friends, please send me photos and updates, no matter how small! I want to see every kitty, every dog, every child, and every you dressed up for a night on the town. THANKS.)</p>
<p>And: cue the Warsaw trip. Johanna and I had been planning this for a while, she had a mid-week break in March because of Women’s Day and so suggested we go somewhere accessible by train. Neither of us had been to Poland before, and Warsaw seemed exciting and also with enough fun things to do indoors, which we needed because of the aforementioned wind and snow. (Gdansk was on my list but it’s a beach town and your good time is directly related to your walking around Old Town by the shore.)</p>
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<figcaption class="image-caption">The view from our Airbnb was particularly gorgeous. See that tall building with the clock to the top left? That’s the Palace of Culture and Science, a white elephant of a “gift” that the Soviets forced Warsaw to accept & then grandly named after Stalin. You can see it from everywhere in Central Warsaw. (Photo by J.)</figcaption>
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<p>I haven’t travelled without uploading photos to Instagram for years now. My usual practice is to take a bunch, edit and filter them and then post them on the ‘gram the next morning as a sort of travel diary. That’s not including the several photos I post on stories either. I construct a travel <em>narrative</em> as I’m doing it, a story I’m telling myself along with the people that follow me. The story is often tediously the same: <em>here I am living my glamorous/adventurous life in a foreign city, look at what a great time I’m having!</em> The thing is, often you do have an extra good time because you look at it from the outside, you’re the actor but you’re also the audience. And sometimes you have a shit time but you’re pretending to have a good time so you’re confused about why you’re having a shit time because surely every evidence points to <em>immense fun wish you were here</em>?</p>
<p>So when I stopped taking photos for my Facebook and my Instagram, I sort of stopped taking photos. This person once told me ages ago at a wedding, “Sometimes you don’t have to have a good time, sometimes you just have a <em>time</em> and that’s okay.” Johanna and I had great fun doing all the things we enjoy doing: museums and cute little cafes and bars and second hand clothes shopping and just sitting and reading in our pretty Airbnb. But also we froze on the long walks to and from places, the public transport system is kind of weird in Warsaw, not that many connections and not even the same ticket for the tram and the metro (that we could figure out), and it snowed most days we were there, and I found Polish food very dull and this made me sad in a way only a meal that doesn’t live up to my expectations can. (I soon switched to non-Polish and all was good in the world again.) Those spots were our “time.” If I’d been chronicling our journey online, perhaps I would’ve felt the need to make the cucumber soup look delicious <a href="https://www.tvfanatic.com/quotes/wait-close-your-eyes-and-breathe-i-smell-snow-ah-its-tha/">or the snow magical</a> in a Lorelei Gilmore sort of way. (Snow is so pretty when you are in your apartment and you have no need to leave your house for the next 24 hours.)</p>
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<div class="image2-inset"><picture><source type="image/webp" srcset="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_424,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F031988e0-bf09-4f8d-ae15-e5b4c36da4ea_1280x720.jpeg 424w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_848,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F031988e0-bf09-4f8d-ae15-e5b4c36da4ea_1280x720.jpeg 848w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1272,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F031988e0-bf09-4f8d-ae15-e5b4c36da4ea_1280x720.jpeg 1272w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F031988e0-bf09-4f8d-ae15-e5b4c36da4ea_1280x720.jpeg 1456w" sizes="100vw" /><img src="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F031988e0-bf09-4f8d-ae15-e5b4c36da4ea_1280x720.jpeg" width="1280" height="720" data-attrs="{"src":"https://substack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com/public/images/031988e0-bf09-4f8d-ae15-e5b4c36da4ea_1280x720.jpeg","fullscreen":null,"imageSize":null,"height":720,"width":1280,"resizeWidth":null,"bytes":150333,"alt":null,"title":null,"type":"image/jpeg","href":null,"belowTheFold":true,"internalRedirect":null}" class="sizing-normal" alt="" srcset="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_424,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F031988e0-bf09-4f8d-ae15-e5b4c36da4ea_1280x720.jpeg 424w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_848,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F031988e0-bf09-4f8d-ae15-e5b4c36da4ea_1280x720.jpeg 848w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1272,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F031988e0-bf09-4f8d-ae15-e5b4c36da4ea_1280x720.jpeg 1272w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F031988e0-bf09-4f8d-ae15-e5b4c36da4ea_1280x720.jpeg 1456w" sizes="100vw" loading="lazy" /></picture>
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<figcaption class="image-caption">Sharing a pensive moment outside the POLIN museum which is excellent, a history of Judaism through Poland’s history as well.</figcaption>
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<p>But I’m sad I didn’t take more pictures. I thought I enjoyed photography, but maybe all I enjoy is the sharing of photographs. Getting a particularly nice one to show everyone what exactly it looked like while I was away.</p>
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<figure><a class="image-link is-viewable-img image2" target="_blank" href="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F24c516f3-495e-480d-86fb-033f51c9bd95_2016x1512.jpeg">
<div class="image2-inset"><picture><source type="image/webp" srcset="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_424,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F24c516f3-495e-480d-86fb-033f51c9bd95_2016x1512.jpeg 424w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_848,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F24c516f3-495e-480d-86fb-033f51c9bd95_2016x1512.jpeg 848w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1272,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F24c516f3-495e-480d-86fb-033f51c9bd95_2016x1512.jpeg 1272w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F24c516f3-495e-480d-86fb-033f51c9bd95_2016x1512.jpeg 1456w" sizes="100vw" /><img src="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F24c516f3-495e-480d-86fb-033f51c9bd95_2016x1512.jpeg" width="1456" height="1092" data-attrs="{"src":"https://substack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com/public/images/24c516f3-495e-480d-86fb-033f51c9bd95_2016x1512.jpeg","fullscreen":null,"imageSize":null,"height":1092,"width":1456,"resizeWidth":null,"bytes":343422,"alt":null,"title":null,"type":"image/jpeg","href":null,"belowTheFold":true,"internalRedirect":null}" class="sizing-normal" alt="" srcset="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_424,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F24c516f3-495e-480d-86fb-033f51c9bd95_2016x1512.jpeg 424w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_848,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F24c516f3-495e-480d-86fb-033f51c9bd95_2016x1512.jpeg 848w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1272,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F24c516f3-495e-480d-86fb-033f51c9bd95_2016x1512.jpeg 1272w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F24c516f3-495e-480d-86fb-033f51c9bd95_2016x1512.jpeg 1456w" sizes="100vw" loading="lazy" /></picture>
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<figcaption class="image-caption">This is the Neon Museum, which is advertised as “the most Instagrammable museum in Warsaw” so I was a bit sceptical as those experiences tend to be all show and no substance. However it’s a fun museum showing a quick history of post Socialist Warsaw, with a little movie playing at the back. (Photo by J.)</figcaption>
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<div class="image2-inset"><picture><source type="image/webp" srcset="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_424,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fb43c42a5-158b-4211-b3b9-56dc5881b766_1200x1600.jpeg 424w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_848,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fb43c42a5-158b-4211-b3b9-56dc5881b766_1200x1600.jpeg 848w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1272,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fb43c42a5-158b-4211-b3b9-56dc5881b766_1200x1600.jpeg 1272w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fb43c42a5-158b-4211-b3b9-56dc5881b766_1200x1600.jpeg 1456w" sizes="100vw" /><img src="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fb43c42a5-158b-4211-b3b9-56dc5881b766_1200x1600.jpeg" width="1200" height="1600" data-attrs="{"src":"https://substack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com/public/images/b43c42a5-158b-4211-b3b9-56dc5881b766_1200x1600.jpeg","fullscreen":null,"imageSize":null,"height":1600,"width":1200,"resizeWidth":null,"bytes":135575,"alt":null,"title":null,"type":"image/jpeg","href":null,"belowTheFold":true,"internalRedirect":null}" class="sizing-normal" alt="" srcset="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_424,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fb43c42a5-158b-4211-b3b9-56dc5881b766_1200x1600.jpeg 424w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_848,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fb43c42a5-158b-4211-b3b9-56dc5881b766_1200x1600.jpeg 848w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1272,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fb43c42a5-158b-4211-b3b9-56dc5881b766_1200x1600.jpeg 1272w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fb43c42a5-158b-4211-b3b9-56dc5881b766_1200x1600.jpeg 1456w" sizes="100vw" loading="lazy" /></picture>
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<figcaption class="image-caption">And here’s one I took, because obvs.</figcaption>
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<p>I’m going to have to go back on social media next month because my book is out and I have to promote it and be cool, but honestly, I’m not sure how much difference promoting your own books online does. I run a small books account on Instagram (which I might keep doing because I only follow book accounts on it and it’s nice to have a record of your reading) and I know many people buy the books I recommend. But I think it’s because I’m a disinterested third party. I follow authors online and I don’t necessarily buy their books because they post fifty times about it. I don’t know if more people would be inclined to buy <em>my</em> book because I post fifty times about it. So it’s hard to say if social media even <em>is</em> that important despite what everyone tells you. (However, for sharing links like this newsletter, it is, and since I’m staying off Twitter this month, would you just be amazing and do it for me? THANK YOU I LOVE YOU.)</p>
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<figcaption class="image-caption">We were at this large warehouse space with lots of little restaurants and bars and J went off to find a beer and I looked up and saw this red balloon against the roof, and it was so beautiful.</figcaption>
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<p>No, but I’ve really liked whatever little of Eastern Europe I’ve seen (and it’s always been SO COLD when I’ve visited so you can imagine these are pretty amazing cities despite the bad weather: Prague, Budapest, Warsaw.) They seem somehow unexplored—but only in relation to say, France or Italy or Germany. I knew very little about Polish history when I visited and now I know so much more. They feel somehow more accessible because they are slightly cheaper than most Western European countries and yet, more foreign because of the languages. You should go. And you should send me a series of messages about it and we can talk about our shared experiences.</p>
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<p>If you liked this post, or any of my others, would you consider <a href="https://www.buymeacoffee.com/mrmwrites">buying me a coffee</a>? Your support means so much to me!</p>
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<p><strong>Currently reading:</strong></p>
<p>The latest in the <em>Thursday Murder Club</em> books: <em>The Bullet That Missed.</em> Look, I got back into these books after taking the second one out of the library and then going back and re-reading the first one, but they’re very… schlocky. Manipulative, I’d say. Charming as fuck, no doubt, but self consciously charming.</p>
<p>My neighbour said she wasn’t ever going to read the box set <em>Game of Thrones</em> she’d bought herself and did I want them and I realised I <em>did</em> feel like re-reading them all from the beginning and we have a new bookshelf, so everything worked out in that regard.</p>
<p><strong>What I Bought That I Love</strong>:</p>
<p>Two second hand things I just wanted to show off <em>somewhere</em>:</p>
<p>Of the two t-shirts and two dresses I bought in Warsaw only one has internet presence, so see how nice.</p>
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<figcaption class="image-caption">From a brand called <a href="https://cloudmine.pl/products/liberte-t-shirt">Janina Warsaw</a> but I found it in a thrift shop so it’s much more faded. I love slogan t-shirts, don’t you?</figcaption>
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<p>And a popcorn maker! I’m also trying to give up processed snacks—hard when you love all things fried potato and this popcorn maker has been 100% worth it especially since we also—yup—thrifted it.</p>
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<h4>Links I Liked</h4>
<p>The trials of <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/world/2023/mar/02/you-wont-find-a-braver-man-the-muslim-witness-confronting-indias-legal-labyrinth-nisar-ahmed?utm_term=640316a8f4e74243afa0c374675527fa&utm_campaign=TheLongRead&utm_source=esp&utm_medium=Email&CMP=longread_email">an Indian witness</a>. (Guardian)</p>
<p>How did I let drinking <a href="http://starbucks%20https://www.theguardian.com/news/2018/jan/05/william-leith-alcohol-how-did-i-let-drinking-take-over-my-life">take over my life</a>? (Guardian)</p>
<p>The terrifying <a href="https://farrah.substack.com/p/the-terrifying-cult-of-good-taste">cult of good taste</a>. (Things Worth Knowing)</p>
<p>How <a href="https://www.theatlantic.com/ideas/archive/2023/03/how-to-talk-about-grief-support/673232/">to talk about grief</a> to someone who is seriously grieving. (Atlantic)</p>
<p><a href="https://themorningnews.org/article/brief-interviews-with-very-small-publishers">Brief interviews with publishers</a> of extremely specific magazines. (The Morning News)</p>
<p>And that’s all I’ve got! Come and talk to me here any tiiiiime.</p>
<p>xx</p>
<p>m</p>
<p><strong>Who are you?</strong> <em>Meenakshi Reddy Madhavan, writer of internet words (and other things) author of seven books (<a href="http://www.amazon.in/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=meenakshi+reddy+madhavan">support me by buying a book!)</a> and general city-potter-er.<br />
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FOR NOW!</em></p>
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eMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12716202062654957842noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7382033.post-43796063917252812702023-02-15T17:50:00.001+05:302023-02-15T17:50:16.801+05:30The Internet Personified: Ground control to Major Min<p>Happy Valentine’s Day, my sweet little cinnamon rolls,</p>
<p>I’ve been back in Berlin for less than four weeks, and I have jumped in with both feet. Having done that thing that people do when they move to new cities, ie, accept all invitations, I am <em>tired out</em>, which is a nice problem to have if you’re an introverted extrovert like me. I get energy from other people, hearing their ideas and participating in their conversation, and this energy I turn into writing and editing, which I do alone in my little glass-walled study by day. Which means I’ve got to be a lot stricter with my social plans, trying not to let anything happen before 6 pm ideally, by which time I’ve done a full day’s work and am ready to rejoin the world. Although I miiiiight have overdone it. I have not had a whole day just at home not leaving the house at all for over six days, and I’m beginning to feel the stress of burning the candle at both ends. Squishy, our black cat, chose last night to practise his operatic arias, and K was away last night too, so it was just me, sitting bolt upright in bed, begging him to stop. Finally, he got into bed with me (sometimes he gets lonesome if he can’t figure out where the rest of us are) but I stayed awake between 5 am and something, only to wake up at 8.30 as I normally do, still feeling a little tired from my restless night.</p>
<p>It is the next day. We’d gone for a reading at our local public library last night, a very rare English language event about dating across races. An Iranian woman and a Nigerian woman were in conversation about their essays and their experiences about racism in the city. It was okay, not any earth-shattering revelations, nothing we hadn’t heard before, and the writing was <em>quite</em> bad, so I was a bit sorry we had picked “good” seats, ie, wedged in on all sides with no way to leave. Funnily, I think K and I were the only representatives of “interracial romance” in the whole room. On the way out, I spoke with the person who organises events for the library, telling him how much I loved the space, which he was really happy to hear. I do, I do truly love libraries, especially ones I am familiar with, even if the selection for English language readers is small, I still enjoy being there. He told me that he prefers to organise programmes in a language that is more accessible to the majority of the community that uses the library, which is sadly, not people like me, so English language stuff is few and far between. All the more reason to become fluent in German, I guess.</p>
<p>But my “immersion” technique is going well. That last sentence makes it sound like I have more of a plan than just floating around the city and overhearing occasional words when it suits me. In the area I live, it’s now increasingly common to only overhear English when you’re walking by a knot of people, so that’s pretty useless to me, but there’s the rest of the city to be listened to.</p>
<p>Just the other day, I was at Markthalle 9 with some German friends. If you’ve been to Berlin, you know it as on the list of attractions: an old school food hall which on Thursdays has a bunch of pop up restaurants from 6 pm to 10 pm. Heaving crowds and no place to sit. A deposit on your glass so you’re sure to take it back and reclaim your four euros. That kind of place. I’ve visited before as a tourist, and now occasionally as a resident. Anyway, so we were there till 9.55, when they rang a giant bell and told us to leave. We were all still finishing our last drinks, when a lady came up to us and said they were closing, except instead of the usual word I’ve heard before for “closing” which usually refers to doors being shut, she used “feierabend.” I usually break apart German words I don’t know to examine them for context, and here she was saying “party evening.” “We’re now having a party evening,” she said to my friends. Meaning that it was time for the workers to party while the customers went away. I asked the Germans about it and they said it was pretty common to use in a shop or a restaurant. “You could even say, “I’m now ready for a party evening,” when you’re going to bed and you’re done drinking,” said one of them. I went home and questioned K further (he’s been a bit ill—not COVID—last week so he stayed in while I gallivanted.) “Could I say,” I asked him—this is my favourite game, taking new German words I’ve learned and putting them into different contexts— “Come over this evening for our feierabend?” “If you’re making a pun, sure,” he said. So I haven’t <em>quite</em> figured out why the word for “party evening” is the word for “closing” but not literally the word for “party evening.” Languages are hard.</p>
<p>I Googled it, and came across <a href="https://yourdailygerman.com/meaning-german-feierabend/">this interesting blog</a> about the origins. I’ll quote the best bits:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>The second part of <em><strong>Feierabend</strong></em> is <em><strong>Abend</strong></em> and it means evening. Note that the German evening lasts longer than the English one does, so it is also used in sense of night. The question “What are you doing tonight” translated literally using <em><strong>Nacht</strong></em> might sound a little salacious or the answer might just be “Sleep. Why?”</p>
<p><em><strong>Feierabend</strong></em> is the moment when you have finished your work and there is not really a translation for that… by the way, it is actually strange that there is all these grumpy faces in Berlin subway at 5 pm as they all have party-night.</p>
<p>This is one of THE MOST used goodbye-phrases amongst colleagues. And it doesn’t matter whether it actually IS evening or not. It is also used by two night nurses at 8 am to say goodbye and you can also say it when your coworker, who is only a part time, leaves the office at noon.</p>
<p>And here is the little gender reminder… it is of course DER <em><strong>Feierabend</strong></em> so it is masculine because MEN work while women enjoy their <em><strong>Freizeit</strong></em> (free time) which is hence <em><strong>die Fr</strong>eizeit</em>… what’s that? Not 1950 anymore?… true true true.. but back then when the articles were forged by those wise men, those were the days I tell ya’.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>In my case, I’m trying hard to stick to a schedule, which is easier in the winter because it’s so dark and grim outside and it takes me 15 minutes <em>longer</em> to get ready because of all those layers, something I keep forgetting and then I’m late and in a rush but still trying to pull on my long johns. I have my party-evening at 6, and if I live by that rule, it means I get quite a lot done before I leave the house. Also why I’m desperate to finish off my next book before summer comes around again and the whole city is calling to me.</p>
<p>I’ve been using my tarot cards more and more these days, just for fun, just for a little optimism boost as it were. I put them on my bedside table and often my question is, “should I go out tonight?” I’m not sure what I’m expecting the cards to <em>do</em> here, to be like, “no! don’t go! stay in with Netflix!” but anyway, often the only answer I get is YES GO OUT YOU’LL LOVE IT. Last weekend the cards said: Wheel of Fortune (destiny), The Tower (big changes) and Six of Swords (get out of your comfort zone.) Which might hold true for my life in general. Another card I keep pulling is Three of Pentacles (indulge yourself, stop scrimping) and while I am not some giant millionaire-spendthrift type person, I find myself worrying slightly less. Same amount of money, less stressing about it. It’s hard to loosen the tight grip your fingers have on all your financial anxieties but just a little letting go makes some difference to your general mental health.</p>
<p>The night I drew those cards, we were going to an event at a second-hand bookshop I love. It’s called Another Country and it used to be run by a transwoman named Sophie. This bookstore was her baby, she had parties and events all the time, it was a safe space for other trans folk, she kept spare hormone shots at home for anyone who needed it and generally made it welcoming and a home away from home for queer folk. Now, I just stumbled upon it as a reader, having no clue about all these backstories, just knowing that it was a terrific bookstore, one of the kinds I like best, lots of squashy chairs, books stacked almost to the ceiling, a really good collection etc. And then Sophie died, and it looked like I was never going to get to go to the store again. But then a team of volunteers took over to run it and now they’re having weekly events and all sorts of fun things, including, the night we went: a pub quiz. (Which our team totally won. Our prize was a bottle of wine, but we’d already had <em>one</em> bottle of wine, so I was happy to share with all, after all the winners had taken a glass.) I have left my email address behind so that they can let me know if they need more volunteers, but for the moment, I’ll settle for the occasional pot luck pub quiz evening.</p>
<p>But I’m a little tired now, so I think this weekend I will finally sit down with my jigsaw puzzle and a hot drink, cozy in the house, something nice on the stove, the cats threatening to ruin everything by walking all over it, a good show on TV after, early bed with a library book; winter has many delights, both within and without.</p>
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<h3>Currently reading</h3>
<p><strong>White Teeth by Zadie Smith (</strong>which is a re-read, I wanted to get into it again because of the IMMIGRANT EXPERIENCE etc.): I don’t know. Still a great book but not feeling <em>as</em> great as it did when I first read it. Maybe even slightly pretentious and long winded? SHOCKING. I love Zadie Smith! Why is this happening to me?</p>
<p><strong>Notes On An Execution by Danya Kukafa:</strong> A serial killer is being executed, his life is told from many different points of view. A library book I’m halfway through. Quite good, quite gripping.</p>
<h3>Currently watching</h3>
<p><strong>Wednesday</strong>, which you’ve obviously seen, a fun teen drama about Wednesday Addams, a sort of dark grim supernatural comedy. And rewatching <strong>The Legend of Korra</strong>, both on Netflix.</p>
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<h3>On to the amazing links!</h3>
<p>Oldie but goldie: <a href="https://ruggedwolverines.files.wordpress.com/2009/01/the-american-male-age-ten.pdf">the American male</a> at age 10.</p>
<p>Things I do <a href="https://holapapi.substack.com/p/things-i-do-not-like-hearing">not like hearing</a>.</p>
<p>The girl <a href="https://beccacore.substack.com/p/the-girl-internet-and-the-boy-internet">internet and the boy internet</a>.</p>
<p>Another v specific German sitch: <a href="https://www.theneweuropean.co.uk/germansplaining-when-to-do-du/?fbclid=IwAR0R127fuwsvJtiOf3_Z-oKextJ3rWTXFBNi8GFFNjp2bnmHzYbo4i5e2fM">when do you say “du”</a> and when do you say “Sie”? (“aap” and “tum” for non German Hindi speakers.) (Thanks Akshata for the link!)</p>
<p>Ok gtg, love you, miss you, byeeeeee</p>
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<p>xx</p>
<p>m</p>
<p><strong>Who are you?</strong> <em>Meenakshi Reddy Madhavan, writer of internet words (and other things) author of seven books (<a href="http://www.amazon.in/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=meenakshi+reddy+madhavan">support me by buying a book!)</a> and general city-potter-er.<br />
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eMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12716202062654957842noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7382033.post-42428456262647370822023-01-18T13:50:00.001+05:302023-01-18T13:50:26.582+05:30The Internet Personified: Cooking, driving and early noughties feminism<p>Beloved bendy straws,</p>
<p>I am SO COLD that it’s surprising I’m able to type at all. In Delhi, we’ve had what the newspapers have described excitedly as a “cold wave” only a “wave” implies a sudden dropping of temperature and I haven’t really noticed it rising. It’s a bit better than it was week before last, where I was wearing two pairs of socks inside the house. Now I’m down to one pair—toes still cold—but wearing a massive amount of layers on top. No one looks sexy in Delhi’s winter, but I look like the Michelin Man. I went to a house party this weekend, and the guests were divided into those that made an effort (my friend, the host, looked particularly sexy and I guess she’s immune to the cold because there was not a single piece of Heattech on her. Not even a jacket!) and those who stayed properly bundled up the entire evening. Ugh, I hate winter, as soon as my birthday is over I’m ready for it to be summer again. Compensating by eating my body weight in snacks so I’m truly a Michelin Man, inside and out.</p>
<p>My timing is also not great, because Delhi gets warmer next week and off I go, back to Berlin, to plunge into <em>their</em> cold wave, a thrilling MINUS FIVE. More fattening snacks for me! This is me putting a ring on Berlin, so I’m not expecting my honeymoon period to last forever, however, I’m pretty excited about returning. The cats, after one startled look at K, have resumed their winter cuddles as though no time had passed at all. He suspects they <em>did</em> forget about us when we left, and as soon as they smelt him, they said, “Oh yeahhhh, <em>this guy</em>” and the love fest begun.</p>
<p>I sent him back with one stainless steel masala dabba and one works-on-electric-stoves tadka pan so my Indian-in-Germany kitchen is coming together nicely. I keep thinking about my kitchen—I got so into cooking the last year or so that it’s really nice to have all this equipment and all these spices (for Indian cooking, I bring most from home like a good desi housewife) and this year I’m expanding to get better at “conti” stuff, mainly Italian and French (inspired by the TV show Julia, I’ve decided to also do a little Julia Child stuff in the kitchen), and our stint in Bangkok has made me very curious about cooking Thai food as well. (Ingredients a little hard to find, but there’s this large <a href="https://www.berlin.de/en/attractions-and-sights/4545977-3104052-dong-xuan-center.en.html">Asian market</a> not far from us).</p>
<p>Back when I first started living alone, say age 21-22-ish? I had just found a job with a city tabloid which paid me the grand sum of Rs 7,500, and I had been itching to leave home and set up on my own anyway, so I decided this financial independence was the sign I needed. No matter that my new job’s office was closer to my mum’s flat in East Delhi than the tiny railway compartment style flat I shared with two others in Malviya Nagar, I was still going to strike out on my own! (Until I realised after I paid for rent and fuel, I was basically left with zero money and reluctantly returned to the parental home until I got a new job and a dramatic 50% raise and a flat close to the office in a most definitely illegal construction fourth floor walk-up that swayed whenever anything heavier than a scooter drove past.) Anyway, this was the time where our feminism made us declare proudly that we couldn’t cook. “Can’t even boil water,” we’d say, smugly, looking over at other women who cooked with a certain amount of patronage. We were meant for grander things than the kitchen! We would never need to learn how to chop an onion or, god forbid, roll out a roti because our lot was Higher Things. I remember the first week we moved in, we didn’t have any way to boil water so I made instant coffee with the water from the geyser, god, it was awful and probably not very hygienic either. What did it matter, we hired a cook, who deep fried everything and it all looked so unappetising that we ate out most days, but I was always never very house proud, so I poked at unappetising meals after unappetising meals, from Delhi to Bombay, and thought this was just my lot. I didn’t know what was <em>wrong</em> with the food, just that I didn’t like it. Only once, several years later, I stumbled by pure chance upon an excellent cook in Bombay who happened to be looking for a new job and her meals were just elevated. I still had no words of instruction to give her, but she made everything really well. (She ruined me for future bad cooks who were delighted by my lack of agency, but also, now I knew it could be done in my kitchen on my budget, I started to take a little more of an interest in how to make things the way I liked.)</p>
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<figcaption class="image-caption">This painting (Young Woman Drawing) was bought by the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York in 1922. In 1977, they FINALLY took a male artist’s name off it. The true artist (Marie Denise Villers) was only attributed in 1996.</figcaption>
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<p>It was a wonky sort of feminism, my first book <em>You Are Here</em>, contains a recipe of the kind I’d make in those days, “potato pickle surprise” which was just fried potato with a green chilli pickle garnish. I described Arshi’s roommate Topsy’s cocktails in far more detail, because we took pride in our drinks—see, post-feminism, women drinking like men!—but I skipped over the food. In my newest book, <em>Soft Animal</em>, I’ve flipped that, now my protagonist Mallika is frequently to be found in the kitchen, finding some sort of order in her days through cooking, because she doesn’t have much else. People took you less seriously as an author if you wore nice clothes or lipstick, for the longest time, you attempted to dress down for book events so everyone wouldn’t talk to you like you were a complete idiot. Well… some people dressed down, and I dressed up and grumbled that I had just as much right to be taken seriously as everyone else, and probably paid the price for my clothes because they patronised the hell out of me, but who cares, right? I’m forty one and I’m still here, many books later.</p>
<p>Cooking took a while longer to reach me as a feminist act. I was rejecting it because I didn’t want to be like the generation of women before me who seemed to learn how to cook whether they wanted to or not, it was just one of their skills. Even my mother who was a journalist at the time cooked a lot for a working woman. A lot of us wanted to be free and easy, like, well, like the <em>men</em>, never lifting a finger, never learning to do anything. And then things like Masterchef Australia started airing and people started getting snobby about food and suddenly everyone was a home chef and talking about their <em>ingredients</em> and their <em>ovens</em> and their <em>knives,</em> and women of my generation who had always cooked, always enjoyed cooking, were raising an eyebrow at all this but the rest of us just jumped into it. And it was fun. (How privileged can you get, right? Only dabbling in the kitchen as a hobby while your cook did all the scud work?) Of course, it is an essential life skill—feeding yourself, but you can do that with toast and eggs just as well. You don’t need to be a cook-cook. But what I learned consequently over these past few years is how creative it is, how soothing. I work from home, I work in my pajamas, I’m not much of a cleaner-upper unless the place is truly a mess and it takes a while to get there, so what adds order to my days? Cooking. I may not get pages done that day or go out for a walk, but I can make something out of raw ingredients, something appetising and interesting. Sometimes I wonder: is this turning back into being the kind of woman I rejected? Am I, in the end, as fond of nourishing others as my ancestors were before me? No one likes to admit they’re getting older, and I think this is an age thing for me, not a feminism thing. I need to eat, I’m a picky eater, I cook well, I cook our meals. (K does most—if not all—of the cleaning. I feel like I’ve gotten the better part of the bargain so I’m actively trying to get less lazy about vacuuming and so on.)</p>
<p>Which reminds me, please send recs for cookbooks you personally use and love. [Nothing with a zillion ingredients each of which I will only use once, thank you, which is why most of Ottam (I’ve forgotten how to spell his name and I’m too lazy to look it up) is out.]</p>
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<p>I’m in the process of selling my car. It’s only the second car I’ve ever owned, and the first I could afford to buy myself. Over the years, my friends got fancy new models, but I was always somewhat attached to my little white Alto—especially because a) I never drove much anyway and b) it was really easy to park, being so small, I could squeeze into any space.</p>
<p>I gave up driving some time ago, a crippling phobia suddenly overtook me. It’s surprising to even describe, it snuck up on me. One day I was driving over a flyover and traffic stood still and I couldn’t stop imagining all of us collapsing to our deaths, because the bridge could surely not hold all our weight. This fear mixed with another one I had, what if someone knocked into my car as I was driving and shot me off the edge? So I had to avoid flyovers. After that it became slopes: what if my car slid slowly backward and I hit the car behind me? After that, highways. Once again, what if a truck just sort of drifted off its lane and squeezed my car, smashing us both into a pulp? I couldn’t—can’t, still—differentiate the what-ifs my brain was coming up with from actual fact, I just started feeling like every time I was behind the wheel of my car, I was going to die horrifically and painfully. My palms would sweat, my heart would start racing, I spent the entire drive gripping the steering wheel. It wasn’t pleasant, and so I started avoiding driving more and more. If K and I weren’t going together somewhere (he usually drove us), I’d take a taxi, it was so easy. I tried to fix it with mindfulness meditation, and affirmation stuff when I was driving (“you are a calm and <em>comfident [sic]</em> driver,” said the English accent to me, soothingly.) But it never did get fixed, so in a calm and <em>comfident</em> way, I declared that I was just giving it up. Fuck driving. There are many other ways to get around.</p>
<p>But we hung on to the car, we thought my mother might like the use of it, but getting someone to drive her around was more hassle than just getting into an auto, so after much procrastination, I finally got around to selling it. I tried the first of two websites that pop up when you search “sell car in Delhi” and when their home inspection guy didn’t turn up twice I’ve called a second, who should be here soon, but I’ve learned from experience these car website people are notorious flakes. It doesn’t really matter because when I called a mechanic in to replace the battery—dead from not having being used for six months—he offered to buy it himself. Turns out a single owner driven car with less than 30,000 kilometres on the thingie is a valuable asset. Good thing I didn’t drive it much, I’m hoping to now get back most of what I spent on it, minus 50,000, which is great value for a car that is 10 years old.</p>
<p>Thinking of my car and driving, made me think of the song <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X5KmB8Laemg">Short Skirt/Long Jacket</a> by Cake, which I used to listen to ALL. THE. TIME. Somehow, my early noughties feminism got tied up with this song—which if you know it is about a man singing about the only kind of woman he wants, an independent one.</p>
<blockquote>
<p>I want a girl with the right allocations<br />
Who is fast, and thorough, and sharp as a tack<br />
She's playing with her jewelry<br />
She's putting up her hair<br />
She's touring the facility<br />
And picking up slack<br />
I want a girl with a short skirt and a long jacket</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Early noughties feminism was very much about “not being like other girls.” You didn’t believe in a sisterhood, you believed that you alone, out of all the rest of your gender, were this perfect unique little specimen who deserved to sit with the men.</p>
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<figure><a class="image-link is-viewable-img image2" target="_blank" href="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F90501b77-4c7c-4fc8-98f5-145d45223029_192x263.jpeg">
<div class="image2-inset"><picture><source type="image/webp" srcset="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_424,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F90501b77-4c7c-4fc8-98f5-145d45223029_192x263.jpeg 424w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_848,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F90501b77-4c7c-4fc8-98f5-145d45223029_192x263.jpeg 848w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1272,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F90501b77-4c7c-4fc8-98f5-145d45223029_192x263.jpeg 1272w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F90501b77-4c7c-4fc8-98f5-145d45223029_192x263.jpeg 1456w" sizes="100vw" /><img src="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F90501b77-4c7c-4fc8-98f5-145d45223029_192x263.jpeg" width="192" height="263" data-attrs="{"src":"https://substack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com/public/images/90501b77-4c7c-4fc8-98f5-145d45223029_192x263.jpeg","fullscreen":false,"imageSize":"normal","height":263,"width":192,"resizeWidth":192,"bytes":6615,"alt":null,"title":null,"type":"image/jpeg","href":null,"belowTheFold":true,"internalRedirect":null}" class="sizing-normal" alt="" srcset="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_424,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F90501b77-4c7c-4fc8-98f5-145d45223029_192x263.jpeg 424w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_848,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F90501b77-4c7c-4fc8-98f5-145d45223029_192x263.jpeg 848w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1272,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F90501b77-4c7c-4fc8-98f5-145d45223029_192x263.jpeg 1272w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F90501b77-4c7c-4fc8-98f5-145d45223029_192x263.jpeg 1456w" sizes="100vw" loading="lazy" /></picture>
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<figcaption class="image-caption">This is a painting by Leonor Fini (1907-1996) who was openly bisexual and polyamorous. From her Wikipedia page: “In an attempt to subvert the roles imposed by society, she abandoned representations of fragile, innocent or fatal women in favor of goddesses inspired by Greek mythology. She applied herself to painting female figures who could not be categorized, judged or morally or sexually defined.”</figcaption>
</figure>
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<blockquote>
<p>She wants a car (hey) with a cup holder armrest (ho)<br />
She wants a car (hey) that will get her there (ho)<br />
She's changing her name (hey)<br />
From Kitty to Karen (ho)<br />
She's trading her MG (hey) for a white Chrysler LeBaron<br />
I want a girl with a short skirt and a long, jacket</p>
</blockquote>
<p>I blasted this song while I was driving. I too wanted a car that would get me there.So what if I was in “soft” or “lifestyle” journalism, so what if ignorant critics called me a “chick lit” writer? I knew who I wanted to be as I wobbled around in my high heels, flicking my straightened hair out of my face or just tying it back in a tight bun, neat and precise with none of the untamed danger that curly hair implies. I wanted to be that girl—girl! he never says woman!—with a short skirt and a long jacket.</p>
<p>There are many things to criticise still about 2023 feminism (let’s start with how it’s still not as inclusive as we’d like, how powerful men are still getting away with shit despite all the hand wringing about woke mobs and cancel culture) but at least, <em>at least</em> we have grown from where we were and are able to acknowledge our internalised misogyny and see how it was perhaps a little fucked up.</p>
<p>Meanwhile, I opened my car the other day for the first time in ages and I smelt, underneath the musty odour of a car that’s been closed too long, just a whiff of my old life. It almost made my eyes misty. Saying goodbye is hard and new beginnings are never easy, but you know I’m stepping into it with flat shoes, a flowy dress and my hair standing up like a lion’s mane around my face, which is a much more comfortable way to be than a short skirt and a long jacket, if you ask me.</p>
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<p><strong>Currently reading:</strong></p>
<p>I’m book-hopping in my re-reads so I’ve got <em>Adrian Mole: The Cappuccino Years</em> by Sue Townsend (just the most perfect hilarious series) and <em>Doctors</em> by Erich Segal (who I had completely forgotten about but then K was supposed to take a trip to Tel Aviv and I suddenly started remembering <em>Acts of Faith</em>, which I then re-read and now I’m on <em>Doctors</em> and I will probably read his entire oeuvre, which is cheesy but expansive. <em>Doctors</em> is the medical deep-dive, <em>Acts of Faith</em> is the religion one, <em>The Class</em> is academia, <em>Prizes</em> is science. All meticulously researched pot boilers, but I don’t need to tell you, you probably also read all his stuff in your teens along with Sidney Sheldon.) I also re-read all of James Herriot, having watched the latest series of <em>All Creatures Great And Small</em>. Then I’m also re-reading with intention <em>A Dark Adapted Eye</em> by Barbara Vine because it is my book club pick for this month and I’m meeting them for a discussion on Friday.</p>
<p>Plus a new to me book: <em>The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry</em> by Rachel Joyce which I came across browsing the <a href="https://thebookerprizes.com/the-booker-library/books">Booker Prize website</a>, a useful place to check out every single book that’s ever been longlisted. I like books about long walks, perhaps because even though I’m a fairly sedentary person, a long walk seems like a thing I can <em>do</em>, much like Harold.</p>
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<p><strong>Currently watching:</strong></p>
<p>My mum and I are watching all of <em>Ted Lasso</em>, which I had abandoned after four episodes, and now have gotten back into. It’s a nice palate cleanser after <em>Trial By Fire</em> which was just DARK but also really good.</p>
<p>Side-by-side I’m watching <em>Southland</em> which is this excellent cop drama shot like a documentary and well, ok, <em>Friends.</em> What? It’s cold and I need mental cuddles.</p>
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<p><strong>My mid-January link recommendations!</strong></p>
<p>Speaking of cooking, here’s what the new show <em>Julia</em> (which, for the record, I enjoyed) gets <a href="https://lithub.com/what-julia-hbos-new-julia-child-series-gets-terribly-wrong-about-legendary-editor-judith-jones/">wrong about Julia Child’s extraordinary editor Judith</a> Jones.</p>
<p>How the YA <a href="https://www.polygon.com/22449675/ya-dystopia-fad-ended">dystopia fad ended</a>.</p>
<p>Firstly, Margaret Atwood has a Substack. Secondly, she sometimes writes <a href="https://margaretatwood.substack.com/p/three-domestic-fowl-tragedies">about chickens she has known</a>.</p>
<p>Have not seen <em>Fleishman Is In Trouble</em>, but you don’t have to see it to enjoy this piece <a href="https://oldster.substack.com/p/the-trouble-with-fleishman-a-monologue">about the feminism of it</a>.</p>
<p>Trying not to <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2023/01/11/style/plastic-free.html">touch plastic for an entire day</a> is HARD.</p>
<p>What <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2023/jan/14/four-dogs-three-cats-two-snakes-a-tortoise-what-30-years-of-pets-have-taught-me-about-life?utm_term=63c4f44978c35c450dec8786ff2fc550&utm_campaign=FirstEdition&utm_source=esp&utm_medium=Email&CMP=firstedition_email">30 years of having pets</a> have taught me about life.</p>
<p>Have a great week! I will probably write you next from my Berlin life.</p>
<p>xx</p>
<p>m</p>
<p><strong>Who are you?</strong> <em>Meenakshi Reddy Madhavan, writer of internet words (and other things) author of seven books (<a href="http://www.amazon.in/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=meenakshi+reddy+madhavan">support me by buying a book!)</a> and general city-potter-er.<br />
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Follow me on <a href="http://twitter.com/reddymadhavan">Twitter</a>, <a href="http://facebook.com/thecompulsiveconfessor">Facebook</a> and <a href="http://instagram.com/decemberschild">Instagram</a>. (Plus my <a href="https://instagram.com/minnareads">book recommendation</a> Instagram!)<br />
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Forward to your friends if you liked this and to women who STILL say, “I’m not like other girls” if you didn’t.<br />
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Also, write back to me! I love to hear from you.</em></p>
eMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12716202062654957842noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7382033.post-76498505971935110442022-12-27T17:51:00.001+05:302022-12-27T17:51:51.685+05:30The Internet Personified: The Best Books I Read In 2022<p><em>This email might get too long to read in your inbox so click the post title on top to read comfortably in your browser.</em></p>
<p>My spicy little pad thais,</p>
<p>I always hate best books lists that come out early on in December or even November because it’s as good as saying you won’t be reading any more for the rest of the year. I try to put my own list off as long as I can, because I am always filled with FOMO. <em>What if</em>, I think, <em>what if the book I read on December 23rd is absolutely the best book I’ve read all year?</em> This year, I went to a second hand bookstore only two days ago and bought a huge pile of books which I am making my way through. This year, I started <em>Crime and Punishment</em> only last week. I have a lot of reading left to do, but now, on the 27th, I realise that I probably won’t finish any of these by the end of the week and so, here we are.</p>
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<figure><a class="image-link is-viewable-img image2" target="_blank" href="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fb05db9e4-5cb7-45a8-ae35-a25204479042_1777x1165.png">
<div class="image2-inset"><picture><source type="image/webp" srcset="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_424,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fb05db9e4-5cb7-45a8-ae35-a25204479042_1777x1165.png 424w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_848,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fb05db9e4-5cb7-45a8-ae35-a25204479042_1777x1165.png 848w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1272,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fb05db9e4-5cb7-45a8-ae35-a25204479042_1777x1165.png 1272w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fb05db9e4-5cb7-45a8-ae35-a25204479042_1777x1165.png 1456w" sizes="100vw" /><img src="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fb05db9e4-5cb7-45a8-ae35-a25204479042_1777x1165.png" width="1456" height="955" data-attrs="{"src":"https://bucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com/public/images/b05db9e4-5cb7-45a8-ae35-a25204479042_1777x1165.png","fullscreen":null,"imageSize":null,"height":955,"width":1456,"resizeWidth":null,"bytes":118710,"alt":null,"title":null,"type":"image/png","href":null,"belowTheFold":false,"internalRedirect":null}" class="sizing-normal" alt="" srcset="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_424,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fb05db9e4-5cb7-45a8-ae35-a25204479042_1777x1165.png 424w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_848,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fb05db9e4-5cb7-45a8-ae35-a25204479042_1777x1165.png 848w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1272,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fb05db9e4-5cb7-45a8-ae35-a25204479042_1777x1165.png 1272w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fb05db9e4-5cb7-45a8-ae35-a25204479042_1777x1165.png 1456w" sizes="100vw" /></picture>
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<figcaption class="image-caption">All graphics from Storygraph which I use instead of Goodreads to keep track of what I’m reading</figcaption>
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<p>I had a shorter reading goal this year than normal. I pledged to read 100 books—normally I pick 150 or 120 or whatever, but this year I’ve been so busy—we counted and we’ve been in seven different countries in 2022 thanks to my visa problems. I’m delighted to announce that that is a thing of the past. Yes, friends, one and a half years, many <em>many</em> emails to the German embassy and many many hours of agonising about my uncertain future later, my visa has finally been approved! This means your girl is going to be a full time Berlin resident come February (the passport might take as long as a month to be stamped, they warned me). And not a moment too soon, because I see rumblings about a new COVID wave that’s happening, so please be careful, and hopefully we won’t have to have another full on lockdown. (In Thailand, masks are no longer mandatory, but the locals wear them all the time, even outdoors, so actually we’re pretty safe—and also following suit, to fit in.)</p>
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<div class="image2-inset"><picture><source type="image/webp" srcset="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_424,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F61b290f6-bd64-4592-a9dc-b087ded88d30_874x713.png 424w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_848,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F61b290f6-bd64-4592-a9dc-b087ded88d30_874x713.png 848w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1272,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F61b290f6-bd64-4592-a9dc-b087ded88d30_874x713.png 1272w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F61b290f6-bd64-4592-a9dc-b087ded88d30_874x713.png 1456w" sizes="100vw" /><img src="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F61b290f6-bd64-4592-a9dc-b087ded88d30_874x713.png" width="874" height="713" data-attrs="{"src":"https://bucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com/public/images/61b290f6-bd64-4592-a9dc-b087ded88d30_874x713.png","fullscreen":null,"imageSize":null,"height":713,"width":874,"resizeWidth":null,"bytes":38966,"alt":null,"title":null,"type":"image/png","href":null,"belowTheFold":false,"internalRedirect":null}" class="sizing-normal" alt="" srcset="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_424,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F61b290f6-bd64-4592-a9dc-b087ded88d30_874x713.png 424w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_848,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F61b290f6-bd64-4592-a9dc-b087ded88d30_874x713.png 848w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1272,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F61b290f6-bd64-4592-a9dc-b087ded88d30_874x713.png 1272w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F61b290f6-bd64-4592-a9dc-b087ded88d30_874x713.png 1456w" sizes="100vw" /></picture>
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<figcaption class="image-caption">I love fat big books that you can just keep reading endlessly. This is why I mostly read on my Kindle.</figcaption>
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<p>Although seven countries was fun. I’ll sort of miss my vagabond life, but I’m so ready to start nesting.</p>
<p>The nice thing about travelling is that you get to read a lot. The bad thing is that you get absolutely no writing done, unless you have tremendous will power, which we all know I don’t. Still, these five weeks in Bangkok have been ideal for my book which is chugging along nicely, and I managed to read 106 new books (I don’t count re-reads unless I’ve completely forgotten the book, I’m always re-reading the same thing over and over.) This is also the year I discovered libraries, proper libraries, and while Berlin’s libraries don’t have a large English language collection, they do have variety. Plus, you’re a member of all of them at the same time, so you can borrow books from whichever branch you like. When I think about Berlin, I think most about the libraries, nothing else, maybe occasionally walking down an empty cobblestoned road with the trees high and green above my head.</p>
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<figure><a class="image-link is-viewable-img image2" target="_blank" href="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Feb044e74-bda5-4b0f-9758-9557c3004de7_1767x932.png">
<div class="image2-inset"><picture><source type="image/webp" srcset="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_424,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Feb044e74-bda5-4b0f-9758-9557c3004de7_1767x932.png 424w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_848,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Feb044e74-bda5-4b0f-9758-9557c3004de7_1767x932.png 848w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1272,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Feb044e74-bda5-4b0f-9758-9557c3004de7_1767x932.png 1272w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Feb044e74-bda5-4b0f-9758-9557c3004de7_1767x932.png 1456w" sizes="100vw" /><img src="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Feb044e74-bda5-4b0f-9758-9557c3004de7_1767x932.png" width="1456" height="768" data-attrs="{"src":"https://bucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com/public/images/eb044e74-bda5-4b0f-9758-9557c3004de7_1767x932.png","fullscreen":null,"imageSize":null,"height":768,"width":1456,"resizeWidth":null,"bytes":56087,"alt":null,"title":null,"type":"image/png","href":null,"belowTheFold":true,"internalRedirect":null}" class="sizing-normal" alt="" srcset="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_424,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Feb044e74-bda5-4b0f-9758-9557c3004de7_1767x932.png 424w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_848,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Feb044e74-bda5-4b0f-9758-9557c3004de7_1767x932.png 848w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1272,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Feb044e74-bda5-4b0f-9758-9557c3004de7_1767x932.png 1272w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Feb044e74-bda5-4b0f-9758-9557c3004de7_1767x932.png 1456w" sizes="100vw" loading="lazy" /></picture>
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<figcaption class="image-caption">As you can see, I’m a middle of the road rater. I very rarely give books 4.5 stars or 2.25 stars. I’m fondest of 3 stars, which I interpret as “nice but not outstanding.” The books I’ve picked on this list all come from my 4.5-5 star section.</figcaption>
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<p>Of these one hundred and six books though, when I made my list today, I could only come up with thirteen that I would absolutely recommend to you. I do mini-recommendations all year on my <a href="http://instagram.com/minnareads">bookish Instagram page</a>, but this is a best books list, not a decent-reads-you-might-enjoy list, and so, here we are. As always, these are the best books I’ve read this year, but published any year.</p>
<div class="captioned-image-container">
<figure><a class="image-link is-viewable-img image2" target="_blank" href="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F9e02f9f8-a887-41ee-94fa-8dec47d2dfee_1851x1280.png">
<div class="image2-inset"><picture><source type="image/webp" srcset="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_424,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F9e02f9f8-a887-41ee-94fa-8dec47d2dfee_1851x1280.png 424w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_848,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F9e02f9f8-a887-41ee-94fa-8dec47d2dfee_1851x1280.png 848w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1272,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F9e02f9f8-a887-41ee-94fa-8dec47d2dfee_1851x1280.png 1272w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F9e02f9f8-a887-41ee-94fa-8dec47d2dfee_1851x1280.png 1456w" sizes="100vw" /><img src="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F9e02f9f8-a887-41ee-94fa-8dec47d2dfee_1851x1280.png" width="1456" height="1007" data-attrs="{"src":"https://bucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com/public/images/9e02f9f8-a887-41ee-94fa-8dec47d2dfee_1851x1280.png","fullscreen":null,"imageSize":null,"height":1007,"width":1456,"resizeWidth":null,"bytes":83039,"alt":null,"title":null,"type":"image/png","href":null,"belowTheFold":true,"internalRedirect":null}" class="sizing-normal" alt="" srcset="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_424,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F9e02f9f8-a887-41ee-94fa-8dec47d2dfee_1851x1280.png 424w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_848,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F9e02f9f8-a887-41ee-94fa-8dec47d2dfee_1851x1280.png 848w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1272,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F9e02f9f8-a887-41ee-94fa-8dec47d2dfee_1851x1280.png 1272w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F9e02f9f8-a887-41ee-94fa-8dec47d2dfee_1851x1280.png 1456w" sizes="100vw" loading="lazy" /></picture>
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<figcaption class="image-caption">I needed soothing books all year, and there’s nothing like crime fiction for that.</figcaption>
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<p>Wherever possible, I’ve tried to link to an independent bookstore (<a href="http://midlandsbookshop.com">Midlands</a> and <a href="http://champaca.in">Champaca</a>) where you can order online no matter where you are, but sometimes it has to be Amazon, alas.</p>
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<figure><a class="image-link is-viewable-img image2" target="_blank" href="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fad941e9e-81a6-4a77-8dec-e3a1f82a7833_1792x800.png">
<div class="image2-inset"><picture><source type="image/webp" srcset="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_424,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fad941e9e-81a6-4a77-8dec-e3a1f82a7833_1792x800.png 424w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_848,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fad941e9e-81a6-4a77-8dec-e3a1f82a7833_1792x800.png 848w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1272,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fad941e9e-81a6-4a77-8dec-e3a1f82a7833_1792x800.png 1272w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fad941e9e-81a6-4a77-8dec-e3a1f82a7833_1792x800.png 1456w" sizes="100vw" /><img src="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fad941e9e-81a6-4a77-8dec-e3a1f82a7833_1792x800.png" width="1456" height="650" data-attrs="{"src":"https://bucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com/public/images/ad941e9e-81a6-4a77-8dec-e3a1f82a7833_1792x800.png","fullscreen":null,"imageSize":null,"height":650,"width":1456,"resizeWidth":null,"bytes":117710,"alt":null,"title":null,"type":"image/png","href":null,"belowTheFold":true,"internalRedirect":null}" class="sizing-normal" alt="" srcset="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_424,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fad941e9e-81a6-4a77-8dec-e3a1f82a7833_1792x800.png 424w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_848,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fad941e9e-81a6-4a77-8dec-e3a1f82a7833_1792x800.png 848w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1272,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fad941e9e-81a6-4a77-8dec-e3a1f82a7833_1792x800.png 1272w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fad941e9e-81a6-4a77-8dec-e3a1f82a7833_1792x800.png 1456w" sizes="100vw" loading="lazy" /></picture>
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<figcaption class="image-caption">I would have thought I’d have the biggest spike over the summer heatwave I spent in Delhi but it turns out I was a very negligent hostess and read the most when friends were visiting.</figcaption>
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<p><strong>The most exciting book I read all year:</strong></p>
<p><em><strong><a href="https://amzn.to/3FYQKGk">Fieldwork by Mischa Berlinski</a></strong></em><strong>:</strong> I wish I’d saved this for Thailand, but I didn’t know, way back in March that I would be in Thailand this winter, so the timing was slightly unfortunate. Then again, I did read this in a fancy Istanbul hotel where we were sadly quarantining with COVID, so I had plenty of time to devote to it between poking sticks into my nose and waiting hopefully for the results. The book is a solid romp, a journalist goes to Thailand hoping to uncover the story of an anthropologist who was jailed and later committed suicide. Along the way, there’s the heavy involvement of a missionary church. It doesn’t sound exciting written down, but trust me, by the end of it, you’ll be like, “Ooh how can I be an anthropologist too?”</p>
<p><strong>The best novel about the psychology of crime:</strong></p>
<p><em><strong><a href="https://amzn.to/3WDfuuM">A Dark-Adapted Eye by Barbara Vine</a>:</strong></em> I don’t mean a psychological crime novel here, those are quite different. This was the year I discovered Ruth Rendell and promptly decided to read as much of her backlist as I could. I love here because she talks about why people do crimes instead of just the puzzle. It’s what I wanted to do as well, so she served as inspiration in a sense. This book begins with the murderer dying and then goes back in time, unravelling a story. A why-dunnit instead of a who-dunnit. So beautifully written, a story about family and sisters and parenthood.</p>
<p><strong>The best graphic novel I’ve read in a</strong> <em><strong>long</strong></em> <strong>time, let alone 2022:</strong></p>
<p><em><strong><a href="https://amzn.to/3FVtZ6f">Berlin by Jason Lutes</a></strong></em>: A massive book, twenty years in the making, which spans the history of the city from the very beginning of the fall of the Weimar Republic till the start of the rise of the Nazis. Large panels, so much happening in each section that you can’t take in all of it at one go so your eyes go all over the page, like a child reading a picture book. Berlin was dense, full of various random characters inhabiting the city, and beautiful. I borrowed this from the public library, which made me very happy, because I had been planning on buying it in Delhi and lugging it back to Germany with me and the thing weighs like a zillion kilos. I see there’s a nice Kindle version so treat yourself.</p>
<p><strong>The best romance novel that ended up as a treatise on working women in the 50s:</strong></p>
<p><em><strong><a href="https://www.midlandbookshop.com/en/product/lessons-in-chemistry">Lessons in Chemistry by Bonnie Garmus</a></strong></em><strong>:</strong> I read a lot of “trendy” books this year, by which I mean books everyone was talking about, and for the most part I was pleasantly surprised by how good they were, which makes me sound like the most appalling snob, but really, every year people dangle books in front of one and are like, “This is the greatest thing since the Iliad!” or whatever and they never are. I realised tempering my expectations was key, like they were a giant cast iron pan. I liked this more than I expected to, and that sounds like faint praise, but it was just <em>sweet</em>. It starts out romantic, very smart woman and very smart man fall in love and get a dog, and then the man dies, so that’s sad, but the woman has to now bring up their child alone, and then she (the woman that is) gets a job teaching cooking at a local TV studio, except she’s teaching it in a chemistry-oriented way. It was fun! And charming! Sometimes you need fun and charming. The dog character was great too.</p>
<p><strong>The best soft character-oriented books about people’s long lives</strong>:</p>
<p><em><strong><a href="https://amzn.to/3IcOPAC">Anything is Possible by Elizabeth Strout</a></strong></em> <strong>and</strong> <em><strong><a href="https://www.midlandbookshop.com/en/product/french-braid-gorgeous-charming-profound-marian-keyes">French Braid by Anne Tyler</a></strong></em>: This is one of my absolute favourite genres, and I find Americans do it so well. I think it’s the idea of clannishness and family in small towns. Elizabeth Strout and Anne Tyler are experts in this regard, and if I like Tyler a little more than Elizabeth, it’s probably because I’ve read more of her (since she’s published more books.) <em>French Braid</em> is excellent, a long family saga in vignettes, chapters set over the years. <em>Anything Is Possible</em> is a continuation of Strout’s Lucy Barton series, and as always, you don’t need to read one book to get fully into the next. Stories of different people who live in a small town in Maine and how their lives intersect.</p>
<p><strong>The best book about a very specific sports topic:</strong></p>
<p><em><strong><a href="https://champaca.in/products/the-queens-gambit?_pos=1&_sid=8ec4aa596&_ss=r&variant=32970739482659">The Queen’s Gambit by Walter Tevis</a></strong></em>: I haven’t seen the TV show! And when I posted this on my Instagram, everyone said I must, so that is a treat for another time. But the novel the show is based on: young genius orphan girl is heavily into chess and becomes a world champion was so exciting, I couldn’t stop reading, and I don’t even like chess. Then too, it’s a short novel, so perfect for your next weekend break or flight.</p>
<p><strong>The best cosy crime slash epistolary novel</strong>:</p>
<p><em><strong><a href="https://www.midlandbookshop.com/en/product/the-appeal">The Appeal by Janice Hallet:</a></strong></em> This book tickled two of my reading soft spots: it’s done entirely in notes and emails and, <em>and</em> it’s all against the background of an amateur theatre group. Having been in many amateur groups myself, I’ve always thought they were a great place to observe human intrigue, and see, here I am proven right. Then too, it was funny and mysterious, with a twist you won’t see coming.</p>
<p><strong>The best fantasy novel</strong>:</p>
<p><a href="https://amzn.to/3Gim9Fg"></a><em><strong><a href="https://amzn.to/3Gim9Fg">Fairy Tale by Stephen King</a>:</strong></em> King is usually horror and creepy don’t-read-in-the-dark books, but this one is both a deviation and a delight. It’s about a young boy who discovers through his neighbour, a portal into a fairy tale world, which of course, he enters, and where he, of course, has to battle many strange things and come out a hero in the end. It’s still creepy, but fairy tales tend to be creepy, unless they’re Disney versions. I especially liked finding references to all sorts of Grimms’ tales I had forgotten.</p>
<p><strong>The best book about friendship</strong>:</p>
<p><em><strong><a href="https://www.midlandbookshop.com/en/product/tomorrow-and-tomorrow-and-tomorrow-this-summer-s-must-read-tale-of-love-friendship-identity-and-gaming">Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow by Gabrielle Zevin</a>:</strong></em> This made a LOT of best books lists so you’ll forgive me for squeezing it into mine as well. I didn’t think I’d like it, because it’s about two gamers, and I’m not really much for video games, but much like <em>Fieldwork</em> made me think, “Ooh anthropology!” and <em>The Queen’s Gambit</em> made me think, “Ooh, chess!” this sent me down the “Ooh, video games!” rabbithole as well. But mostly it’s about love and friendship, two very real people and their very real relationship with all its ups and downs. The relationships are <em>real</em>, is what I’m trying to tell you, not just a nice friendship lalala over the years but it felt true and authentic, the fights, the bitching, the resentment and love too, lots of love or it wouldn’t have endured. You’ll find yourself thinking a lot about your <em>own</em> friends after you read this.</p>
<p><strong>The best book about Indian crime</strong>:</p>
<p><em><strong><a href="https://www.midlandbookshop.com/en/product/villainy">Villainy by Upamanyu Chatterjee</a>:</strong></em> I confess, I haven’t read as many Indian authors this year as I would have liked to, and I do like to. But Upamanyu Chatterjee has always been a favourite, I’m forever recommending <em>English, August</em> to other people who want to know “what Indian books to read.” I didn’t like his ones in the middle so much, but this one returned him true to form. The crime of it all is a bit hand-wavy, but I liked the <em>people</em> very much, all the various characters coming through so clearly, like I had met them all. I liked the police procedural aspect as well (something I’m working on in my own new novel) and generally enjoyed the Rich Delhi/class wars flavours of the whole thing. (Just before I left Delhi, my friend Nilanjana Roy released <em><strong><a href="https://www.midlandbookshop.com/en/product/black-river">Black River</a></strong></em>, her crime novel, so that’s something to look forward to as well.)</p>
<p><strong>The best book about small scale politics</strong>:</p>
<p><em><strong><a href="https://amzn.to/3YOnWJo">Search by Michelle Huneven</a></strong></em>: Again, a subject I didn’t know very much about: church committees! Dana, the narrator, is also a food writer and is hunting for the subject of her next book. At the same time, she’s elected to join a church committee to hunt for a replacement for the minister. There’s a whole lot of Boomer vs Gen Z energy (Dana is in her 50s), plus the every day fights and quibbles of people who suddenly have a small amount of power. I tore through it, it was so good. And so <em>unusual</em>.</p>
<p><strong>The best collection of essays</strong>:</p>
<p><em><strong><a href="https://www.midlandbookshop.com/en/product/may-you-be-the-mother-of-a-hundred-sons-1">May You Be The Mother of A Hundred Sons by Elizabeth Bumiller</a></strong></em>: I did not read a lot of non-fiction this year, but whatever I did tended to be memoir. This very old collection of essays is about women in India, whether they’re rich in Delhi or Bollywood stars or health workers or women in the village, Elizabeth Bumiller went everywhere and talked to everyone to get some sort of an idea about what it means to be a woman in India. It was published in 1991 so it’s been a while, but sadly, a lot of it still holds true.</p>
<p>And that’s my list! Your turn, what were the best books you read this year off the top of your head?</p>
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<p><strong>Books I’m currently reading:</strong></p>
<p>Ann Rule’s <em><a href="https://www.amazon.in/Stranger-Beside-Me-Ann-Rule-ebook/dp/B07F5787CB/ref=sr_1_1?crid=32OVU9VMNH94C&keywords=a+stranger+beside+me&qid=1672138115&s=digital-text&sprefix=a+stranger+beside+m%2Cdigital-text%2C293&sr=1-1">The Stranger Beside Me</a></em> which is the true story of how the writer was besties of a sort with serial killer Ted Bundy.</p>
<p>John Irving’s <em><a href="https://www.amazon.in/Son-Circus-John-Irving-ebook/dp/B007ZC23D8/ref=sr_1_1?crid=2AKB7ASKMCMIL&keywords=a+son+of+the+circus&qid=1672138263&s=digital-text&sprefix=a+son+of+the+circu%2Cdigital-text%2C251&sr=1-1">A Son Of The Circus</a></em> <a href="https://www.amazon.in/Son-Circus-John-Irving-ebook/dp/B007ZC23D8/ref=sr_1_1?crid=2AKB7ASKMCMIL&keywords=a+son+of+the+circus&qid=1672138263&s=digital-text&sprefix=a+son+of+the+circu%2Cdigital-text%2C251&sr=1-1"></a>which is the only book of his to be set in Bombay. I’ve read a lot of his books and actually owned this in hardback for a while and never read it, but then came across it at this second hand bookstore in Bangkok and it felt like the right time. It’s very good. Potboiler-y.</p>
<p><em>Crime and Punishment</em> which will probably take me a while to finish, so it’s just going to go with me wherever I go.</p>
<p><em><a href="https://www.amazon.in/Gone-Jack-Caffery-Mo-Hayder-ebook/dp/B003ARUTQ0/ref=sr_1_1?crid=3OSO5S6PQW9P3&keywords=gone+mo+hayder&qid=1672138341&s=digital-text&sprefix=gone+mo+hayde%2Cdigital-text%2C253&sr=1-1">Gone</a></em> by Mo Hayder which is described as both “lacerating” and “stomach churning” in the blurbs.</p>
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<p>A wrap on the 2022 season of The Internet Personified! Have a great New Year’s Eve, however you celebrate (leaning towards staying in with a movie this year, too much excitement already) and I will see you in 2023.</p>
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<p><strong>Who are you?</strong> <em>Meenakshi Reddy Madhavan, writer of internet words (and other things) author of seven books (<a href="http://www.amazon.in/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=meenakshi+reddy+madhavan">support me by buying a book!)</a> and general city-potter-er.<br />
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eMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12716202062654957842noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7382033.post-83156530367701610522022-12-15T11:57:00.001+05:302022-12-15T11:57:08.427+05:30The Internet Personified: The view from forty one<p>My marvellous muskrats,</p>
<p>Hello from Bangkok! I’ve been here for a little over two weeks now, and it already feels comfortable and settled in. The city that is. My <em>mind</em>, having now had more idle time than it has all year (low grade stress about this visa situation has made me not want to be alone with my thoughts for longer than the five minutes it takes between putting my book down and falling asleep), is running at a mile a minute and events and thoughts I’d completely forgotten about are resurfacing at the oddest moments. Luckily I’m still speaking to my therapist twice a week so we go through <em>what it all means</em> while I’m also all, “Oh, I have nothing to say to you this time” which is what I say every time and then wind up blabbing for the whole fifty minutes anyway.</p>
<p>In all this, I also just had a birthday. I’m a birthday party person—or so I thought. Every year I do something large and fun for my birthday, and it always brought me great pleasure to look around the room at that magic hour when everyone’s arrived and no one’s left yet and see people talking to each other, and think, “I did all this!” It was a ritual, it got me ready for the rest of December’s festivities, and I always loved it. But I’m beginning to wonder whether I’ve left that ritual behind. Last year, of course, we were in Berlin, having just moved in. Our cat was very sick (RIP Bruno) and we had no friends (in town, anyway). I could’ve probably mustered a few from language class and whatnot, but I didn’t feel like it, so it wound up being a quiet birthday, just me and K all day and in the evening, a visiting friend joined us for pizza and a walk around the wintery streets, ending with gluhwein at a cozy bar. I thought it was quieter than I would’ve liked for my fortieth, but that I’d make up for it this year with a big party for forty one which would also be my anniversary with the city in a sense. But here’s the thing I’ve since realised: we left Delhi on December 7th for absolutely no reason. My birthday is December 13th. There was no deadline, nothing pushing us to go a week before rather than wait till the 14th, for example. I could have had my big birthday party, it just seemed like I chose not to? This year as well, we left Delhi on the 28th of November, which okay, we got two weeks more in Bangkok which we wanted, but I could have <em>still</em> had a party right before we left. Again with the choosing not to. It’s been very puzzling for me. Have I outgrown birthday parties? Surely not.</p>
<p>Finally, I came to the conclusion that maybe this past year, birthday to birthday, what I’ve wanted most from the day itself is a no stress, zero expectation kind of day. I think it’s because this year has been <em>on</em> in a way that I haven’t had in years, I am exhausted and feeling every single one of my forty one years on this planet. I didn’t really feel like putting together a party (sorry friends! I will have parties again soon!) and calling people and buying booze and figuring out food and so on. I just wanted to relax.</p>
<p>This wasn’t as zen as it sounds now. Right up until my birthday I had pangs of FOMO, missing parties and people coming together for me, <em>for me</em>, but I don’t know, as the years went by, it seemed like having a party was the <em>only</em> way to celebrate a birthday and I think I wanted a change. I wanted to wake up in a new country and have a strange and wonderful new experience, and indulge myself in many small ways and take stock, as I always do, of the year gone by and figure out what I want to do with my next.</p>
<p>Here’s what we did for my birthday instead: K booked us a lovely room in a fancy hotel. (Back story: our Airbnb is cute, but a) on the outskirts of Bangkok and b) not even <em>remotely</em> fancy, it’s sort of squatty to tell the truth. We like it because there’s not much to do except walk outside and get food which keeps us distraction free, we’re both writing books so a zero distraction life helps. There’s a pool downstairs where we go for morning swims, and a sky train station a ten minute walk away which connects us to the rest of the city but mostly, we’re here, being quiet and writing, and working through occasional patches of boredom by either leaning into it or taking the train somewhere fun with laptops and working outside. But not very birthday-y.) Also, I wanted a hotel because I wanted all the fun stuff hotels offer: maid services and lavish breakfasts and huge bathrooms and all of it. Airbnbs are how we normally travel because they wind up cheaper, but hotels are just so <em>luxurious</em>. We went out on day one, just to the electronics mall (where K made me hide so he could buy my presents: a gorgeous ergonomic mouse to fix some elbow trouble I’ve been having and a set of replacement keyboard stickers because my laptop is second hand and Danish so all the keys were weird, I could never find what I wanted.) (My other presents were a pair of Adidas Stan Smith sneakers that I picked out and to which I added rainbow laces for a little personal touch and this cotton blue and grey Japanese inspired top <em>with a hood</em> which also I selected and which he hid to give to me on my birthday.) (My mum, dad, and aunt sent me money which I will use—partly, because this city is cheap and I love a bargain—on a few clothes from the massive fashion mall I plan to go to this weekend) and then to a bar, but it was a long walk and I was glad to get back to the hotel and relax. All of my actual birthday we spent in the hotel, my birthday present hotel, only venturing out for lunch to a small but popular som tam place down the road. We got massages and napped and then in the evening went to Moon Bar, also down the road, which is this sky bar on the 61st floor of a hotel. I’ve always wanted to go to a sky bar, and K’s always said they were kind of poncy, which ok, I can see that, but since it was a special occasion, we had a lovely time drinking very pricey cocktails and chatting to two Thais who sweetly sent cake to our table. After a few drinks, we wandered off to a small French bar where we had a nightcap and dinner and then ended my birthday at a nice, civilised 11.30 so everyone could be asleep by 12.30. Perfect.</p>
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<p>OH YEAH, I started a Substack chat which is just their fancy way of saying “threads.” You can only access it via the app, which = boo, but it’s a free app and quite nice for all that. Easy to use and all your newsletters in one place. We had a great time discussing books on the first chat thread, with a sub-thread on Jerry Pinto and I plan to kick start conversation every week on a Tuesday, because Tuesdays are kinda boring, the paneer of the week. Join us!</p>
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<p>I guess maybe it was the Grand Birthday Reflection Time or whatever, but this time in Delhi, I began thinking about something no one really warned us about getting older.</p>
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<p>I started thinking about all those friends I used to have, used to <em>love</em> in fact. Colleagues I sat up late at night with, or housemates, people whose lives you knew so well. Or even just friends-because-you’re-friends, how some people keep vanishing from your life.</p>
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<figure><a class="image-link is-viewable-img image2" target="_blank" href="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fb8e9323d-6601-4d72-91f3-538244d58114_1236x319.png">
<div class="image2-inset"><picture><source type="image/webp" srcset="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_424,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fb8e9323d-6601-4d72-91f3-538244d58114_1236x319.png 424w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_848,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fb8e9323d-6601-4d72-91f3-538244d58114_1236x319.png 848w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1272,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fb8e9323d-6601-4d72-91f3-538244d58114_1236x319.png 1272w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fb8e9323d-6601-4d72-91f3-538244d58114_1236x319.png 1456w" sizes="100vw" /><img src="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fb8e9323d-6601-4d72-91f3-538244d58114_1236x319.png" width="1236" height="319" data-attrs="{"src":"https://bucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com/public/images/b8e9323d-6601-4d72-91f3-538244d58114_1236x319.png","fullscreen":null,"imageSize":null,"height":319,"width":1236,"resizeWidth":null,"bytes":90579,"alt":null,"title":null,"type":"image/png","href":null,"belowTheFold":true,"internalRedirect":null}" class="sizing-normal" alt="" srcset="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_424,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fb8e9323d-6601-4d72-91f3-538244d58114_1236x319.png 424w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_848,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fb8e9323d-6601-4d72-91f3-538244d58114_1236x319.png 848w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1272,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fb8e9323d-6601-4d72-91f3-538244d58114_1236x319.png 1272w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fb8e9323d-6601-4d72-91f3-538244d58114_1236x319.png 1456w" sizes="100vw" loading="lazy" /></picture>
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<p>I even have theories about this now! In one sense, it’s people in their mid-to-late thirties getting married, having children and all of that. So already the Venn diagram of your lives have very little reason to intersect.</p>
<p>Then there’s geography, you may <em>really like</em> some people, but when they move away, your friendship is over, as simple as that. Sure, you can try and stay and touch, but eh, it’s probably never going to happen. The most you can look forward to is a fun evening when one of you is in the other’s city, but what usually happens is that their big life things happen to them somewhere else and yours too, so you sort of… forget they exist. These are not the long distance friends, of those I have several, people who you like just as much as when you first met, whose spare rooms in you stay in, who check in every now and then, whose lives you are invested in and so on. Those are not friendships bound by geography, but some are.</p>
<p>And then—and this one you have to be Super Mature about—there’s needs. Sometimes what you need from a person is not the same as what they need from you. When this happens, often either of you move away to different people, who can give them/you what you need at that moment. Often one of you will do this before the other, which makes for a very puzzling and depressing time because you’ll keep scrambling to keep up the friendship but it’s <em>just not working the way it used to</em>. Maybe your bestie suddenly got very into fitness and now she has all these friends from the gym who seem to get her more than you did. Or you had a baby and you <em>like</em> hanging out with other parents, they know what you need from them, you don’t have to keep apologising for it! Or he doesn’t want to party all the time any more and you still do. There are so many ways this can happen, and remember, unless there’s an actual literal betrayal, the love you have for each other still exists at some level, so go off, do your own thing. Sometimes the friendship returns after a break, which yay! Best case scenario! And sometimes that’s it, it’s done. You both had a nice time.</p>
<p>Obviously it’s <em>hard</em>. We wouldn’t be human if these things weren’t soul destroying when they were actually happening. But then you get to take all your little thoughts on friendship and sort them out and be like that one Bible verse which got turned into a song.</p>
<blockquote>
<p>For everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven:</p>
<p>a time to be born, and a time to die;</p>
<p>a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;</p>
<p>a time to kill, and a time to heal;</p>
<p>a time to break down, and a time to build up; <strong> </strong></p>
<p>a time to weep, and a time to laugh;</p>
<p>a time to mourn, and a time to dance;</p>
<p>a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together;</p>
<p>a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; <strong> </strong></p>
<p>a time to seek, and a time to lose;</p>
<p>a time to keep, and a time to cast away; <strong> </strong></p>
<p>a time to rend, and a time to sew;</p>
<p>a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;</p>
<p>a time to love, and a time to hate;</p>
<p>a time for war, and a time for peace.</p>
</blockquote>
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<p><strong>Some notes on craft</strong></p>
<p>“Some notes on craft” says the little note I left to myself in this newsletter, which I suppose means I wanted to talk to you about writing my book which is the Biggest Event in my life right now.</p>
<p>It’s a crime novel as some of you know. I finished the first draft in 2019, sat on it for a bit, and then 2020 happened and I wrote my bad-marriage claustrophobia lockdown novel (<em><strong>Soft Animal</strong></em>, out in March) and then I started to move to Berlin and I thought, well, may as well look at this crime novel again, and I did and it was awful so I decided to rewrite it. (Okay not <em>awful</em>, I’m being hyperbolic, but it wasn’t what I wanted it to be.) See, the best part of any book is right before you begin to write it, it’s this glorious thing in your head, a masterpiece, the best thing you’ve ever written, the best thing anyone’s ever written. And then you begin the process of moving it from your brain to the page, and that ephemeral beautiful fever dream of a book just pops like a bubble. It’s never exactly as you picture it, and new writers, beware, it’s so easy to give up at this point, but I always tell myself that the day I write a perfect book, no mistakes, nothing I wish was slightly different, is the day I will retire. You’ve got to settle for <em>I did the best work I could.</em> Writing is a lot of settling.</p>
<p>With all the homelessness of this year, I never actually got into my book for a concerted period of time. I kept having new ideas which I added but this time in Bangkok is the first time in ages I’ve had proper time to spend with my fiction. My writing muscles are a bit rusty (not completely in disuse thanks to this newsletter) but it’s coming together. What I realised was that I had these two threads of story running through the book. One was the conventional murder mystery-suspect-detective police procedural, and the other was a rambling narrative which looped through the book, sometimes having nothing to do with the murder at all, just stories about Delhi and Delhi people. I picked the ramble. The long way round. The novel has already swelled by 20,000 words and I’m only halfway through. I started jokingly calling it my magnum opus, but sometimes I look at it and maybe it is?</p>
<p>Luckily, because I already had a first draft, I know who did it and I know why. I’m just taking my time getting there. Literary murder mysteries have always been my thing, where you get into the psychology of people not just the thrill of the puzzle. I love writing about people, so I’m having a good time with this one.</p>
<p>Just write it all down and you can delete it later.</p>
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<p><strong>The party just keeps going with these amazing links!</strong></p>
<p>on those novels that <a href="https://blgtylr.substack.com/p/degrees-of-freedom-character-and">just describe actions</a> with nothing else behind them.</p>
<p>on <a href="https://1000wordsofsummer.substack.com/p/the-signing-line">competing with other authors</a> and the signing line.</p>
<p>So over Harry and Meghan <a href="https://www.theatlantic.com/ideas/archive/2022/12/harry-meghan-netflix-show/672400/">so this review</a> of their new Netflix doc made me laugh.</p>
<p>A fab article by Ellen Barry in NYT about <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2022/11/29/health/lying-mental-illness.html">a man who couldn’t stop lying</a>.</p>
<p>Speak soon!</p>
<p>xx</p>
<p>m</p>
<p><strong>Who are you?</strong> <em>Meenakshi Reddy Madhavan, writer of internet words (and other things) author of seven books (<a href="http://www.amazon.in/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=meenakshi+reddy+madhavan">support me by buying a book!)</a> and general city-potter-er.<br />
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Follow me on <a href="http://twitter.com/reddymadhavan">Twitter</a>, <a href="http://facebook.com/thecompulsiveconfessor">Facebook</a> and <a href="http://instagram.com/decemberschild">Instagram</a>. (Plus my <a href="https://instagram.com/minnareads">book recommendation</a> Instagram!)<br />
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Forward to your friends if you liked this and to your one unfinished novel saved forever in drafts if you didn’t.<br />
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Also, write back to me! I love to hear from you.</em></p>
eMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12716202062654957842noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7382033.post-58786157974184066132022-12-09T09:51:00.001+05:302022-12-09T09:51:39.177+05:30Join my new subscriber chat<p><em>This is just a template email, dear kittens, so don’t get too excited. I’ll send you out another PROPER letter soon. I’ve been v busy in Bangkok with book writing etc, and it’s also my BIRTHDAY on Tuesday (which I have to mention, since I’m a very birthday-y person, but I have at least two letter ideas to send out in December alone.)</em></p>
<p>Today I’m announcing a brand new addition to my Substack publication: The Internet: Personified subscriber chat.</p>
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<p>This is a conversation space in the Substack app that I set up exclusively for my subscribers — kind of like a group chat or live hangout. I’ll post short prompts, thoughts, and updates that come my way, and you can jump into the discussion. (<em>I’ve already started with one thread, so come and have a look. We’re discussing—well, right now it’s just me but I hope you’ll join in—what we’re currently reading.)</em></p>
<p><strong>To join our chat, you’ll need to download the <a href="https://substack.com/app/app-store-redirect">Substack app</a>, now available for both iOS and Android.</strong> Chats are sent via the app, not email, so turn on push notifications so you don’t miss conversation as it happens. (<em>yes this part isn’t great, who needs another app? but i tried it out for you and it’s quite nice. much better than just endlessly looking at Instagram or something when you’re commuting.)</em></p>
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<p><strong>Download the app by clicking <a href="https://substack.com/app/app-store-redirect">this link</a> or the button below.</strong> Substack Chat is now available on both iOS and Android.</p>
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<p><strong>Open the app and tap the Chat icon.</strong> It looks like two bubbles in the bottom bar, and you’ll see a row for my chat inside.</p>
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eMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12716202062654957842noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7382033.post-24868445641578249502022-11-14T14:50:00.001+05:302022-11-14T14:50:16.835+05:30The Internet Personified: Things I Really Like This Month<p>Glorious marigolds,</p>
<p>I thought for about five seconds last week that I should maybe make an OFFSET of this newsletter where I send you RECOMMENDATIONS ONCE A WEEK and maybe that could be a SUBSCRIBER TIER THING! But then I realised it was a foolish idea for many reasons: 1) would I have enough recs to give you week after week? 2) how many people realistically would be into that sort of thing? And “into” in the sense of “let me give you some money for this,” and 3) does anyone even CARE about my recommendations? so I said nah, and fuck it, and that’s how ideas die in this house.</p>
<p>But I still had a list of things I enjoyed both experiencing and purchasing, so that’s how this edition came to be. Sometimes recommendation newsletters fill me with doom and gloom, all those people buying all those useless things until we collapse under the weight of it all, so I’m only suggesting a few purchases which are in the category of “if you need a new one of X, this is what I’ve replaced mine with.”</p>
<p>Shall we jump in? Ooh I love giving unsolicited advice! It’s SO GREAT. Here, have these things! TAKE MY WORD FOR IT!</p>
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<p><strong>A new backpack:</strong> I started using a backpack not that long ago, I think 2017-ish? I bought a basic one off Amazon, 50 litres, which means, I guess, you can stuff 50 one litre bottles in there, but since I am an inefficient packer, I could get maybe ten items of clothing in the same space. But I liked that I didn’t have to wheel something around or carry a suitcase up flights of stairs. I love my <a href="https://safaribags.com/products/safari-cargo-neo-hard-luggage-metallic-blue">new strolley suitcase</a> (also bought earlier this year) but that is very specifically for shorter trips or trips where I’ll be staying in one place, say. I took it to London with me, and we did really well, me and my suitcase, although I also took K and his much larger bag to London as well so I had back up. The problem <em>was</em> London with its changeable weather, I had to pack for two eventualities, so I wished I had something slightly more capacious.</p>
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<p>Anyway, my old backpack sort of started falling apart, it was quite cheap, and the straps broke off, nothing I couldn’t fix, of course, but by this time, I had used her enough (Elvira, her name is Elvira, and sometimes because of the nonsense German words on her label—sometimes Indian manufacturors like to slap German words on things because of, I don’t know, <em>quality assurance</em>?—her nonsense German words read “da tasche” which is SO CLOSE. “Tasche” means “bag” but “da” means nothing at all, anyway, because of this, I call her also Natasha Da Tasche, and those of you who know that our cat’s full name is actually Olga da Polga will know of my previous love of this particular nobiliary particle) as I was saying, I had used her enough to know what I didn’t like about this particular bag design. Elvira was built specifically for camping, which means she’s pretty waterproof and has a reach in design, so you open the top and sort of rummage around till you find what you want. This is not very useful for your urban backpacker, such as I, who found herself unpacking and repacking every few days whilst on this long around India trip recently. What I wanted was a better bag, one that organised stuff, one that had a laptop compartment so that when I’m taking it along as cabin baggage I don’t have to take two things, and one that held a few more things. I checked Decathlon, as a sports speciality shop (I like their reasonable sports equipment: bought very nice ski pants and jacket here when I first went skiing and these are still useful and flattering city pants that I sometimes wear just to walk around Berlin for instance, or one very cold winter, to wear inside our house in Delhi), I figured they’d have a bit more range and quality assurance than Amazon. Immediately, I found <a href="https://www.decathlon.in/p/8383140/travel-and-trekking-backpack/travel-backpack-50-liters-travel-500-grey?id=8383140&type=p">this one</a>, while I was leaning towards the 70 litre one, I picked this because a) I sometimes need to travel cabin baggage only and b) if you buy a big bag, you’re tempted to load it fully, and I am only 5’2” tall and my curves are strictly for show, not for hefting more than my body weight. (If you can manage 70, it’s weirdly cheaper than the 50l version.)</p>
<p>What I like about it is that it has SO MANY POCKETS so my toiletries and shoes can go into separate compartments from the main clothes bit, it has a detachable shoulder bag for city walks once you dump your bag at your hotel and it opens like a clamshell which means you can see all your things at once and don’t have to pull out everything in search of one thing. Other cool things: a side zip for passport and phone, a laptop sleeve at the back and a waterproof cover (heavy, so ditch this if you’re not checking in your bag) to tuck away the straps when you’re checking it in so the straps don’t break in transit. This is coming with me to Bangkok, Elvira has been retired for Freja Roopwati Forclaz.</p>
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<p>I joined these two subreddits called <a href="http://reddit.com/r/onebag">r/onebag</a> and even better <a href="http://reddit.com/r/heronebag">r/heronebag</a> which is the same philosophy, except for women, who obviously need to pack and take different things than men. I’m a fan of minimalist packing, but I’m also a fan of fashion, so it’s hard sometimes to make those two the same, but I’m working on it! Nothing as liberating as travelling light, I can tell you. (And also once you switch to a menstrual cup, you’re packing fewer things, so give it a go. I also swear by these <a href="https://shop.ecofemme.org/pantyliners-natural-organic.html">washable panty liners</a> which I’ve had for about seven or eight years, use them on your light days, chuck in the machine and they’re not stained or torn at all, just a little grey from so many years of use.)</p>
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<p><strong>A new lipstick:</strong> Perhaps you’ve heard of the Lipstick Index? Apparently lipstick sales go up during recessions, because women substitute lipsticks for more expensive things. A little indulgence. Anyway, <a href="https://www.livemint.com/opinion/columns/the-lipstick-index-is-back-as-post-pandemic-makeup-soars-11663087512637.html">the Lipstick Index</a> is soaring right now, and I have added myself to the long list of numbers with a new crayon from Maybelline which I bought on a whim and have grown to LOVE. (Out of stock most places so I have to <a href="https://www.amazon.in/Maybelline-Super-Crayon-Lipstick-Happen/dp/B081BBXLKF">link to Amazon here</a>, see if you can find it at your local make up store though.) Because of my skin tone, I find wine or maroon reds suit me the most (also very into <a href="https://www.nykaa.com/m-a-c-matte-lipstick-diva/p/90349">MAC Diva</a>) and this one is gorgeous. Does it stay on? AND HOW. Have to use large amounts of coconut oil to shift it, and this after dinner parties and glasses of wine and salt rimmed margaritas and wearing a mask and smoking and so on and so forth.</p>
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<p><strong>Social smoking:</strong> <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2022/01/12/style/smoking-cigarettes-comeback.html">Smoking is back</a>, which is not surprising considering the end times we live in plus how generally nihilistic we’ve all gotten thanks to people dying by the thousand, so why not start socially again? It makes you look cool and everyone knows the best part of a party is outside on the balcony with everyone else trying to kill themselves. Which reminds me: there’s apparently a new rolling tobacco brand launched in Goa called Fuko which a lot of hipsters in Goa swear by and some hipsters in Delhi as well.</p>
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<p><strong>Ignoring the AQI</strong>: Speaking of trying to kill yourself, I’ve been venturing out more than before into this terrible air, and while my head is full of snot every morning, I’m having a nice time. Look, the politicians are never going to fix Delhi’s air problem, like, it’s going to be a good twenty or thirty years before that happens and are you going to stay at home every year during the nicest weather we have because you may as well live while you’re young (and die ten years before you normally would but no one cares about the future). So I’ve stopped even looking at the bad pollution headlines because I already have a sinus headache, why add a stress migraine to the whole thing?</p>
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<p><strong>Sunday book market</strong>: One of the Ignoring AQI activities I did was go to the Daryagunj Sunday Book Market. It’s kind of tradition for me and my mum, we used to go all the time when I was a child (at the time we lived in Nizamuddin and I remember we took a tonga ride home, this is pre-flyover, pre-thinking about animal rights, so when we got home, I was delighted to be able to feed the poor broken down horse an apple) and several times as a grown up too. I was jonesing for some good second hand books, so we made a trip for the first time to the new location which is at a big ground called Mahila Haat. Which means you walk in a circle from stall to stall, all very nice, but I think it’s sort of lost the <em>essence</em> of Daryagunj. It used to be down one long road, you checked out the pavements and then you left when you were tired, but this arrangement means you feel obliged to look at every single shop. I don’t know, I liked how natural it felt, books and people and random passersby just trying to get through. But still an incredible arrangement of books, fulllllll of people, mostly students browsing, and we had a great time. After which we went to Karim’s, another tradition, and got seekh kebabs and mutton korma and pillowy soft rotis. Worth it! Do it before the weather gets worse. (We also went to Sarojini Nagar later in the week where all the American and UK export labels have been replaced by Korean ones.)</p>
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<p><strong>A lovely beach resort</strong>: I wanted to tell you guys all about the nicest beach resort we stayed at while in Goa this time. It’s called <a href="http://ducknchill.beaches-of-goa.com/">Duck N Chill</a>, and it literally had rooms ON THE BEACH, which meant we opened our door and ta-dah, there’s the sea. We’d never actually spent so much time in South Goa before (Duck n Chill is in Agonda) and it was a lovely surprise. Of course, you need to like your beach resort, because unlike the North, there’s nowhere else to go once you’re there. This place was reasonably priced with excellent service, pretty decent food and made me a fan of daiquiris for life. The rooms are basic but large, comfy bed, good bathroom, romantic mosquito net. No AC, but the sea breeze kept it cool enough by day and by night we were quite chilly. You need to get one of the rooms on the beach though, the others are not <em>so</em> nice.</p>
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<div class="image2-inset"><picture><source type="image/webp" srcset="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_424,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F106fafaf-c071-41d2-b7e1-847ceda55782_1280x960.jpeg 424w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_848,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F106fafaf-c071-41d2-b7e1-847ceda55782_1280x960.jpeg 848w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1272,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F106fafaf-c071-41d2-b7e1-847ceda55782_1280x960.jpeg 1272w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F106fafaf-c071-41d2-b7e1-847ceda55782_1280x960.jpeg 1456w" sizes="100vw" /><img src="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F106fafaf-c071-41d2-b7e1-847ceda55782_1280x960.jpeg" width="1280" height="960" data-attrs="{"src":"https://bucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com/public/images/106fafaf-c071-41d2-b7e1-847ceda55782_1280x960.jpeg","fullscreen":null,"imageSize":null,"height":960,"width":1280,"resizeWidth":null,"bytes":192318,"alt":null,"title":null,"type":"image/jpeg","href":null,"belowTheFold":true,"internalRedirect":null}" class="sizing-normal" alt="" srcset="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_424,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F106fafaf-c071-41d2-b7e1-847ceda55782_1280x960.jpeg 424w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_848,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F106fafaf-c071-41d2-b7e1-847ceda55782_1280x960.jpeg 848w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1272,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F106fafaf-c071-41d2-b7e1-847ceda55782_1280x960.jpeg 1272w, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F106fafaf-c071-41d2-b7e1-847ceda55782_1280x960.jpeg 1456w" sizes="100vw" loading="lazy" /></picture>
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<figcaption class="image-caption">Looking pleased because I’ve just been for a swim. Also if you zoom in, you can admire my shorts: camo print with Indian embroidery patchwork. This is on the balcony of our room.</figcaption>
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<p><strong>Mrs Harris Goes To Paris</strong>: A fun movie I went to watch with my mum and K. A sweet cleaning lady with a good heart has an adventure in Paris where she’s gone to buy herself a dress from Dior. Like, not earth shattering <em>cinema</em> or anything, but a nice feel good movie and fun to watch all the clothes on the big screen. I have no doubt it’ll come to a streaming service soon, so you can wait also. I liked being At The Movies though.</p>
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<li>
<p><strong>A new yoga mat</strong>: I needed a new mat, because I’m about to turn 41 in exactly 29 days, and one of my goals for my forties was to just be <em>slightly</em> less sedentary. (My biggest goal was to live abroad in this decade, which I’m doing so now I’m checking off the rest of the list.) I wanted one that folded up so I could pack it to take to Bangkok with me (and beyond) so I got <a href="https://amzn.to/3E8f73B">this one</a>, currently on sale for 55% off. It has good reviews, soft enough to not hurt my knees too much and has a bunch of yoga poses printed on it if you need inspiration. (I’ve been using the <a href="https://www.downdogapp.com/">Down Dog</a> app which is free and has this one set of yoga poses called Yin Yoga which is basically stretches and meditation and which works out all the kinks from my back like magic.) Moving to a European city means I walk a lot, so at least I move my body twice a week, but I also wanted to supplement it with something at home, just so I stay flexible and bits of me don’t start like suddenly falling off.</p>
</li>
<li>
<p><strong>Reading books set in the place you’re going</strong>: HUGE fan of this practice, and since we’ll be in Bangkok for 45 days, which is a long time (and for which you need an actual visa not a landing visa which I normally get because that’s only valid for 15 days. So it was me and the travel agents at the VFS Thailand counter. Thailand has some funny visa requirements: hotel bookings and flight details IN COLOUR. Your bank statement, but the last transaction has to be from like, yesterday. K does not need a visa because he is German and everyone likes the Germans.)</p>
</li>
</ul>
<p>So I bought three books, and the weird thing is two of those three books are by non-Thai authors. I looked, and apparently a lot of Thai language books just don’t have English translations or there aren’t that many Thai authors writing in English. Here’s what I bought though, and will be taking with me:</p>
<p><a href="https://www.theguardian.com/books/2019/mar/09/bangkok-wakes-to-rain-pitchaya-sudbanthad-review">Bangkok Wakes To Rain</a> by Pitchaya Sudbanthad which is very Cloud Atlas-y from what I can tell, lots of different stories and then they come together in a giant loop.</p>
<p><a href="http://letstalkthai.com/2010/04/21/book-review-bangkok-8-and-the-sonchai-series-by-john-burdett/">Bangkok 8 by John Burdett</a>: Apparently a very well known thriller set in Bangkok? Backpackers carry this book along for atmosphere. Featuring a Thai cop written by a farang. (Thai for foreigner, our “firang.”)</p>
<p><a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2009/07/26/travel/26armchair.html">Bangkok Days by Lawrence Osborne</a>: Non-fiction travellogue about the city by a writer who wanders and writes about the places he washes up in, which is really the ideal life, and one I’ll be living, but I won’t be a white man, so there’s that.</p>
<p>I’ve already read the BEST BOOK about Thailand earlier this year, and in fact, one of the best books I’ve read all year which is <a href="https://ew.com/article/2007/04/15/letting-fieldwork-go-waste/">Fieldwork by Mischa Berlinski</a> and so I’m super jealous that K gets to read it for the first time <em>while in Thailand</em>, but it can’t be helped. Maybe I’ll re-read it. (My best book newsletter usually goes out in late December.)</p>
<ul>
<li>
<p><strong>The Americans:</strong> My mum and I are watching this spy drama set in the 80s, and we’re really into it. It’s unlikely mother-daughter viewing, but somehow it really works. The action, the small domesticities. I’m so into it I’m carrying <em>Crime and Punishment</em> to read on my retreat, just for a little more old timey Russian flavour. Current Russia is a shitshow, but olden times (including when I was an infant) was sort of fascinating.</p>
</li>
</ul>
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<p>I think I’ve run out of steam! Oh well, probably for the best, how many more things can I throw at you? Anyway, your usual reminder that if you liked this post or any of my others, please buy me a coffee! Your tips are encouragement!</p>
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<p><strong>Do I have links for you after all those recommendations? HELL YES.</strong></p>
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<li>
<p>The mysterious <a href="https://nowthisnews.com/swamp-boy">case of Swamp Boy</a>—the ending will shock you. (Now This)</p>
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<li>
<p>I wrote a piece about <a href="https://www.cntraveller.in/story/delhi-diwali-festival-india-lights-diyas/">Delhi’s Diwali parties</a> which is funny, I think. (Conde Nast Traveller)</p>
</li>
<li>
<p>I just had my first Negroni sbagliato in Goa so I was interested in the origins of <a href="https://slate.com/human-interest/2022/10/negroni-sbagliato-tiktok-inventor-history-recipe.html">this drink</a>. (Slate)</p>
</li>
<li>
<p>This is <a href="https://www.esquire.com/lifestyle/sex/a40669132/stalker-8-years/">a really scary story</a> with no conclusive ending about a woman who was stalked for EIGHT YEARS. (And how the police treat women who are being stalked.) (Esquire)</p>
</li>
<li>
<p>And now Twitter is dying, behold <a href="https://tweetmuseum.org/">the Tweet Museum</a>!</p>
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<p>Last issue’s most clicked link was <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2022/08/20/style/weleda-skin-food.html">the origin story</a> of Weleda skin food. (NYT)</p>
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<p>Phew! I am WORN OUT. Speak soon.</p>
<p>xx</p>
<p>m</p>
<p><strong>Who are you?</strong> <em>Meenakshi Reddy Madhavan, writer of internet words (and other things) author of seven books (<a href="http://www.amazon.in/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=meenakshi+reddy+madhavan">support me by buying a book!)</a> and general city-potter-er.<br />
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eMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12716202062654957842noreply@blogger.com1