I love a good beach read. As much as I’d like to wade in the waters or bask in the sun for hours on end, there’s an unspoken comfort in escaping reality under a big beach umbrella. When I was younger, that relief extended beyond the shoreline. I wanted nothing more than to come home after a beach trip and not have to run and find the massive bottle of aloe vera.

My skin is not a big fan of the sun. In the summer, I’ve got SPF 100 on at all times. Everyone else in the family? They stay tan long beyond Labor Day. Quite literally- I pale in comparison. Thanks, genetics.

I haven’t had too many opportunities in recent years to tackle the stacks of books that have been sitting idle on my shelves. Since moving to Bellingham, I’ve made more time to pace myself through the copies I carried out West with me. However, my hiatus has left me with a half-dozen books that are halfway-explored, the plots of which have long been lost to time and space- at least in my mind. It would make the most sense to start those over and relive the journey with a fresh set of eyes.

Did I do that, in any capacity? Absolutely not.

Did I pop out to Henderson’s and pick up some fresh literature instead? You betcha!

Here’s what I’ve got on the docket for my summer reading list:

 

Yolk by Josip Novakovich: Current Read

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(Photo: Goodreads)

They tell you not to judge a book by its cover, but I knew as soon as I picked up Yolk that I was in for some sort of Slavic journey. It’s refreshing to find any book set in Eastern Europe that isn’t exclusively about “the War.” Narration bounces between the author and the Croatian villagers whose stories he’s collected over the years. Some may not be a fan of that style, but the viewpoints of others add to the complexity of this village’s dynamics. I’ve found myself amused by some of the subtle Slavic humor that Novakovich expertly sprinkles in throughout this collection, especially within some of the book’s darker plot points.

One of the book’s most fascinating themes centers around religion; specifically, being raised as a Baptist in a mostly Christian and Communist community. I found the exploration of the author’s faith fascinating (as told in the short story “The Eye Of God”). Having been raised Ukrainian Catholic, young Dianna was under the impression that all Slavs were Catholic, too. I was taught that the whole of Eastern Europe was Christianized in 988 A.D.; therefore, no other religions were practiced in the region or the diaspora. I’ll spare you the details of how I found that one out, but let’s just say that the discovery of Ukrainian neo-Paganism broke my brain for a few days.

I was expecting more of a slice-of-life series of stories, with traditions painstakingly detailed for everyone else to try and comprehend. So far, I’ve gotten literal slices of life embedded within life and death, faith and atheism, morality and survival. All nestled within a world that would seem nondescript or forgotten to the outside eye. It made me try to picture my ancestors living through similar trials and tribulations during the post-Soviet era. I’ve always wondered what life was like for them. I can’t ask them anymore, but I can live vicariously through them by perusing through Novakovich’s short stories. Hopefully, I can pick up another book by him after I finish this one.

 

The Unbearable Lightness of Being – Milan Kundera: Hoping To Reread

The Unbearable Lightness of Being – Hooray For Dead White Males

(Photo: Hooray For Dead White Males (ironically, Kundera is still alive))

This was one of those “I needed to read certain sections of this for school” books that ended up being unbelievably captivating. From what I remember, this was also during the Soviet Union years in another part of the bloc. At the time, there was a quote that resonated with me so deeply that I copied it down. It reads:

“It was no sigh, no moan; it was a real scream. She screamed so hard that Tomas had to turn his head away from her face, afraid that her voice so close to his ear would rupture his eardrum. The scream was not an expression of sensuality. Sensuality is the total mobilization of the senses: an individual observes his partner intently, straining to catch every sound. But her scream aimed at crippling the senses, preventing all seeing and hearing. What was screaming in fact was the naïve idealism of her love trying to banish all contradictions, banish the duality of body and soul, banish perhaps even time.”

I pondered that passage for a while. I had never considered what it would be like if all of my senses were completely shut out instead of trying to feel everything all at once. There had always been an internal expectation that if I felt an emotion, I needed to experience and express it as much as possible. I’d feel like I didn’t appropriately appreciate an event if I didn’t have all pistons firing at once. So what would happen if there was a force so powerful that I couldn’t feel any emotion, or anything?

I want to revisit and reread the entire novel this summer. I always had this thought that I missed something more than just this passage (and whatever other sections were assigned for that Eastern Europe class I took in college). It’s within the same time frame as Yolk, but I do remember the plot being much darker. I’m certainly not expecting to get through this in one sitting.

 

A Short History of Tractors in Ukrainian – Marina Lewycka: I Keep Going Back To This One And I’m Not Ashamed To Go Back Again

A Short History Of Tractors In Ukrainian - By Marina Lewycka (paperback) : Target

(Photo: Target)

I’m not sure how I found this book in the first place. I’m willing to bet someone gifted it to me from a library fair or a similar event, but I remember seeing this cover and knowing it was going to be a trip and a half. The book takes place in the UK, so some of the language was a bit tricky to grasp at first. Dialects are different across the pond- even in different languages.

I remember the first read-through of this book took some time. I found myself being equally as frustrated with some of the characters in this book as I was with family members in real life. The essence of the Ukrainian-diaspora family dynamic was comically accurate throughout this entire read. It had all the elements I wanted in a fictional novel about a dysfunctional Ukrainian-British family. All the absurdities of the lifestyle I knew all too well blended beautifully with the solemnity of the book’s historical components. It became a comfort read, if you will. I’ll always recommend this book to anyone looking for something different.

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The great thing about these blog posts is that I have total creative freedom. Which is to say, I’m going to add a poll at the end here, because I can. Will I make it through all three of these books by the end of summer?