How to Make Art a Lifesytle
Catch up on the National Book Award finalists, anticipated October releases, and a podcast that belongs in your queue.
Last week, I attended a lecture and Q&A with James K.A. Smith marking the release of his new book, How to Inhabit Time. It’s a fascinating title aimed at helping readers ask and answer the question “When am I?” to better understand their purpose and placement in life.
I’ve long enjoyed his work and expect the same from this new title, but I’ve mostly been thinking about an aside he made during his talk about the difference between listening and hearing.
When I was in junior high, my family took a trip to Disney World where we rode the Rock 'n' Roller Coaster Starring Aerosmith. It’s set up like a VIP meet with Aerosmith as they rehearse for an upcoming show. While waiting in line, you’re treated to a video of the band who, realizing they’re running late, tell their agent to have you tag along on the ride to the venue.
The ride itself is designed like a limo, launching from 0 to 60 mph in three seconds and blaring “Walk This Way” the entire time. I loved the song from the start, and my parents enjoyed the nostalgia of listening to it when it released in the ’70s.
That is until they began to recall the lyrics and realized they were less than appropriate for a pre-teen.
The point here is that while my parents had listened to the song countless times previously, they heard it in the context of Disney World in a whole new way, one that bore new meaning.
During his lecture, Smith argued that art functions much the same way. We can listen to a song, read a book, or take in a film dozens if not hundreds of times without it truly “activating” in us in a formative way, but it’s always there when we need it—that echo of a hopeful melody, that fragment of a poem.
Too often, I see practical arguments for reading that urge audiences to embrace the discipline for utilitarian reasons like “developing empathy” or “enriching your view on life.” And while those reasons may be truthful, art of any kind is stripped of its poignancy when it’s made to be a tool for self-enhancement.
Instead, we ought to think of art as a lifestyle, a constant act of inviting beauty and depth into our lives, stacking it like kindling for God to fan into flame during the seasons when we need it most.
To put it in Smith’s words:
Inviting art in is an act of digging a well that you’ll drink from later.
So take up and read.
September Reads
The Man Who Could Move Clouds by Ingrid Rojas Contreras—I’m not sure how to even describe this book as I’ve never read anything like it, but Rojas Contreras has written a memoir on her own terms. It’s a non-fiction work that reads like a magical realist novel—and it works beautifully. I’ll be rooting for this one to win the National Book Award for Nonfiction next month.
Small Things Like These by Claire Keegan—I loved this little novel. Set in a small Irish town during the Christmas season, it follows a local man as he makes an unsavory discovery that forces him to choose between silence and conviction. It’s a powerful story, perfect for the winter season.
Things We Do in the Dark by Jennifer Hillier—Normally, I’m pretty hard on thrillers as they tend to go off the rails in the final act, but this one impressed me from beginning to end. Hillier creates believable characters with some intriguing plot devices that made for a solid read.
Customs by Solmaz Sharif—Lately, I’ve been trying to read more poetry, and I happened across this collection by way of a recommendation from Ingrid Rojas Contreras. There were some truly moving lines that made it more than worth the time.
October’s Most Anticipated
Our Missing Hearts by Celeste Ng—With her latest, Ng steps away from suburban family life to deliver a story about a man’s search for his mother who disappeared when he was nine.
Untrustworthy by Bonnie Kristian—The last few years have seen an explosion of conspiracy theory and misinformation, especially within the church. In Untrustworty, Kristian explores how to push back on this trend for the sake of truth in relationships.
Liberation Day by George Saunders—If you’ve followed this newsletter for any amount of time, you know Saunders is a staple in my reading. Short stories are his prime medium, so this collection is bound to be fantastic.
The Passenger by Cormac McCarthy—The first in a two-part series, The Passenger centers on a salvage diver who discovers a victim from a crashed aircraft. What follows, the publisher blurbs, “is a breathtaking novel of morality and science, the legacy of sin, and the madness that is human consciousness.”
Reading Roundup
Write On—Kirstin Chen writes about how accidentally registering for a creative writing class in college set her on the path to becoming a professional writer.
This bookstore Twitter thread went viral, and for good reason. In unrelated news, I’m now planning a vacation to Sarasota Springs.
The Enduring Allure of Choose Your Own Adventure Books—Leslie Jamison is a brilliant essayist, and her take on this nostalgic genre of books is a delight.
2022 National Book Award Finalists Announced—I always enjoy keeping up with this event and the finalists when they’re announced. I’ve only read one of this year’s finalists so far. How many have you checked off your list?
Afterword
For the podcast inclined, let me introduce you to Across the Pond. Co-hosted by Lori Feathers, co-owner of my local indie bookstore, Interabang Books, and Sam Jordinson, a UK publisher, the show blends their industry-unique perspectives on the book world.
Each episode focuses on a specific title with the hosts discussing how it’s received on their respective side of “the pond.” And they often include authors as part of the programming. It’s an enjoyable approach and an easy listen that’s bound to introduce you to a book or two you need on your TBR list.