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Hey everybody, and welcome to the Little Oracles podcast, an oracle for the everyday creative. I’m Allison Arth.
Oh my, it’s the end of August, and around here, that means summer is winding down, and there’s that kind of nothing-gold-can-stay moment [chuckles] at the end of every day as the evening fades in, purpling just a bit sooner, and cooling just a bit quicker, and it’s a little bittersweet, you know? Because those bright high-summer days are behind us, and that’s why for today’s Little Reviews episode, I’ve collected four books that, in each their own ways, echo that same bittersweetness or nostalgic feeling that comes at end of the summer: Yerba Buena by Nina LaCour; Who Will Run the Frog Hospital? by Lorrie Moore; and two books by Taylor Jenkins Reid: Malibu Rising and Daisy Jones & The Six. So, without further hay bales and harvest moons, let’s get into the Little Reviews.
Let’s start with Yerba Buena by Nina LaCour. So, I reviewed another Nina LaCour book, We Are Okay, in episode 3 of this season — and I’ll link that episode in the show notes in case you missed it — and I mentioned Yerba Buena, because I was a bit of a splash for Nina LaCour last year, and because it was her first quote-unquote adult novel; she’s typically touted as a YA, or young adult, author. And at that point, I hadn’t read Yerba Buena, and when I started programming my own reading list against the August reading theme of Bliss This Mess [chuckles], I re-acquainted myself with the book and thought it would be a really good fit.
So this is a novel with kind of a dual point-of-view — not that it’s first person; it’s omniscient — but it’s about two main characters, Sara and Emilie, and their stories unfold in tandem over the course of the novel; they are each working through some trauma, and some hard knocks; they have a chance meeting; there’re ups and downs of romance; and it’s just a really lovely story about these two women finding each other, and crossing, and missing, and crossing again over several years, and it just carries this quality of longing that just feels like that moment at the end of the summer when you look back and reminisce about those drives with the windows down, blasting and belting along with John Cougar Mellencamp [laughs]; or the smell of a charcoal barbeque, wafting your way from really far off; or sinking up to your ankles in that soft, cold sand at the edge of the surf.
And while I wouldn’t say Nina LaCour is a particularly lyrical or layered writer, she knows how to turn a really pretty phrase, and she’s really good at creating characters who are whole, and flawed, and irrational at times, and who love really deeply; and, yeah, kind of like We Are Okay, Yerba Buena has its elements of melodrama that feel a little too big for the story, but they weren’t so outsize that they pulled me too far afield; and, actually, along those lines, I do think there is a lot going on in this book — a lot of characters dealing with various dramas and and traumas — and keeping myself engaged in all those stakes, was a bit of a tall order for me, but, again, nothing so extreme that I wanted to put the book down.
And it’s worth noting, too, that this book is a food book, and it revolves around the restaurant where our two characters meet; and around food traditions among families; and those moments, when they come, are really sumptuous, to the point that I kind of wish there were more of them. But, overall, just a really nice little read, a nice little love story that isn’t too happily-ever-after-y, a nice little grounded tale of two people who fall in love, and who muddle through all the faults and the fabulousness that that entails.
Next up, Who Will Run the Frog Hospital? by Lorrie Moore. Okay, so I had never heard of Lorrie Moore until very recently; until my library suggested Who Will Run the Frog Hospital? as a related title to something I’d checked out — I don’t even remember what. And then I read an interview with Lauren Groff, I think it was, who said she always recommends Who Will Run the Frog Hospital? to everyone — or maybe it wasn’t Lauren Groff; see I don’t even recall how this book entered my orbit, but oh my goodness [chuckles], am I glad it did.
So this novel is told in two timelines, from the perspective of a woman looking back on her teenage years: so we have her current timeline, and then the teen timeline, too. And to call this a coming of age novel feels a little too pat, honestly; this novel is so nuanced in its character construction, and in its ability to conjure what it feels like to love really hard and break really big when you’re young — I’m fairly convinced this will be in my top reads for the year, to be honest with you. This book is just so tender and so funny and just so gorgeous, and the writing itself is so vulnerable: a little bit thorny and precarious, and yet glazed in ways that feel so real and so relatable, but at the same time, it isn’t sentimental; it isn’t pining for some rosy, idyllic time that’s couched in innocence or inexperience.
And, you know, in fact, at no point do we get the sense that our narrator is looking back as a foil to her current and complicated life, you know what I mean? There’s no real sense of a confessional or a moment of catharsis through that nostalgia that she’s experiencing — it’s more like she’s watching a filmstrip, kind of, devoid of valuation or imposed meaning. And there’s this great passage, actually — and it’ll give you a taste of the writing too — that, I think, is indicative of this non-interpretive approach to memory, so here it is: “My childhood had no narrative; it was all just a combination of air and no air: waiting for life to happen, the body to get big, the mind to grow fearless. There were no stories, no ideas, not really, not yet. Just things unearthed from elsewhere and propped up later to help the mind get around. At the time, however, it was liquid, like a song — nothing much. It was just a space with some people in it. But one can tell a story anyway.”
And it’s that last bit, about “telling the story anyway,” that really gets me, you know? It’s this kind of appendix that suggests an expectation of story and meaning that you can derive from a moment or a period of time and then apply it to everything afterward — to those events and the experiences that follow in the unspooling of your life — but it kind of downplays it, right? “But one can tell a story anyway,” even though that meat and that meaning aren’t necessarily there. It’s kinda nihilistic, actually. [chuckles] But at the same time, it understands the profundity of story and of narrative for humans and how important that is to us: to find story, and to tell story, and to relate to each other in that way.
So overall, this was just such a wonderful, whole-heart read for me — it kinda reminds me of A Member of the Wedding by Carson McCullers, actually — so if you’re into books that mine personal history, and stories that revolve around looking back, and books that are just delectably written, then you might like Who Will Run the Frog Hospital?
And finally, a couple books by Taylor Jenkins Reid: Malibu Rising and Daisy Jones & The Six, both of which take place in the past — well, kind of; and I’ll get into that in a second — and both of which feel so rooted in nostalgia that I just wanna die, like, in a good way. [laughs]
So I’ve read one other book by Taylor Jenkins Reid — The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo — and I’ve developed a few theories after reading these three books, the first of which is that she loves writing about the contrast between celebrity and Average-Joe-ity; and the second of which that she is wickedly, wickedly good at constructing temporal frames, and jumping between timelines, and using those jumps in these truly satisfying, story-driving ways.
So, in Malibu Rising, the temporal frame is pretty obvious: the primary action — and I actually hesitate to call it that, but for the purposes of discussion, we’ll go with it — but the primary action takes place in 1983, over the course of about 24 hours in the lives of the Riva siblings, a very close-knit crew of four brothers and sisters, who are throwing their annual star-studded, end-of-summer bash at the oceanfront Malibu mansion where the eldest sibling, Nina, lives. And then our secondary action is the story of the Riva parents: their mother, June, who comes from humble beginnings right there in Malibu, and their father, Mick, who also comes from humble beginnings, but goes on to rock n roll stardom.
And in Daisy Jones & The Six, the temporal frame is a little subtler, and it relies on the literal format of the novel, which is laid out like an interview, in the vein of something you might read in Rolling Stone. So the primary action is the story of the rise of this fictional rock group called Daisy Jones & The Six, as told by the band themselves and their managers and crew and close relations and biographers; and the secondary action, if we can call it that, is the current moment; you know, during the interview — and that’s the editorializing by the interviewees, or the way they interpret something as they look back on it, as well as the few and far between comments that our interviewer interjects.
And, you know, I’m not gonna plot-spoil either of these, because that’s what really drives any Taylor Jenkins Reid book in my opinion: that page-turning, what’s-gonna-happen-next pacing that comes from really great character conflict and love triangles and all that kind of stuff — kinda soap opera-y, pretty over-the-top, usually, but really, really fun. And that’s why I wanted to include them in this episode that’s about that lightning-bug-in-a-jar feeling; you know, that late-summer-sunset feeling; you know, that wistfulness that comes with remembering and thinking about the past, because both of these books are so deeply concerned with what the past presages, and what it precludes, too.
And since I’m not really gonna talk about the plots, what I really wanna talk about is just how pitch-perfect the construction of these books is from a storytelling standpoint. In Malibu Rising, our cast of characters is really big, and everybody’s got really big problems to deal with; and we’re be-boppin’ and scattin’ and ping-pongin’ and pinballin’ from one to the other to the other, and ya know what? It isn’t confusing: I know what everyone wants; I know what everyone wants to escape; and I don’t know exactly how everyone’s gonna achieve those things, and it’s just a solid piece of character craft and plotting, honestly, and it’s so satisfying, and if all that good character and plot work isn’t enough to convince you, there’s a really serious Chekhov’s gun in this book, and I’m usually a bit of a Grinch when it comes to those, but I just loved this one; it was just the cherry on top, you know what I mean? [chuckles-
And with Daisy Jones & The Six, the brilliance of Taylor Jenkins Reid’s construction is that actual construct, that interview format, which basically means our author is restricting herself to dialogue, and constricting the amount authorial exposition she can include on the page, like, quite literally. And yet, she manages to hide all of that fictional positioning, and all that character arc interpretation within these direct observations and quotes ostensibly spoken by and delivered by our characters in these interviews. It’s just a feat; real triumph; and I was so impressed. Even if, you know, it was a little high-drama — yes, I’m not gonna lie to you — and it’s not, like, super lyrical or poetic, writing-wise, but I was truly blown away by the construction of this book.
And, you know, Daisy Jones & The Six, the band, is a thinly veiled Fleetwood Mac — and if you’ve been here since the beginning, you know about my feelings toward Stevie Nicks, so that’s a win for me, so [laughs]. So if you’re into books with momentum like a freight train, and great character drama, and books that are actually set in the past, you might be into Malibu Rising and/or Daisy Jones & The Six.
And there we have it; thank you so much for joining me today. If you’re loving what we’re leaving here at Little Oracles, then by all means, share an episode with somebody; leave a rating or a review wherever you listen. And if you want more big book energy and creativity content, you can follow us on Instagram (at) little oracles, and check out the blog at little oracles dot com. And, as always, take care, keep creating, and stay divine.
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