October Comforts

A pocketful of sweets

Welcome to Quiet Reading, a refuge for our shared humanity, inspired by authors, books, and this world of marvels. Special welcome to those of you receiving this letter for the first time, perhaps on the recommendation of another writer. Or maybe you’ve met me in Substack Notes. Whatever brought you here, I am honored by your company. If you like a community that is curious, open-hearted, and a tad playful, you’ve come to the right place.

October is a busy month in my household, with birthdays, sick days, this year a new driver’s license in the family, and plenty of activity at our schools. At times like this, I allow myself to admire any tiny thing that buoys the spirit. In today’s post, I’ll share with you some favorite “sweets” from the past week.

But first let me introduce or reintroduce myself. I am Tara Penry, mother of two teenaged humans, sliding-door attendant for two cats, and a professor of American literature in the western U.S. state of Idaho. I created the Quiet Reading newsletter to reproduce the feeling of delight and enchantment that comes from the company of good books and fellow bookish people, including those who are so enraptured by the dust motes in a sunbeam that they forget to read.

Hello, rapture-people! 😎

Today we’re enjoying beautiful moments, new books, and a tree across the street. Some of us are also memorizing a poem to share Oct. 25th. If you’re reading in email, click on the title of the post to see every part. If you’re reading on a phone, click any photo below to see the image in full.

1. The Beauty of a Passing Moment

Some days have been doozies this week. But I follow such gifted people in Substack Notes that it only takes a minute in the app to reset my compass. Here’s what I mean:

John Lovie

, who writes

Mostly Water

, has captured some soul-stirring views from my favorite body of water, Puget Sound & Salish Sea, including this sunrise:

I am pleased to make the acquaintance of another northwesterner,

Angela Cummings

. I like her ability to combine art and humor:

I’m missing my reading at Holly Starley's Rolling Desk lately, but thankfully she shares on Notes when a wild chipmunk wakes her by nuzzling her cheek, or when the light is especially fine:

The brilliant

Susan Bordo

, who writes about media, elections, and gender with great insight and clarity, posted a Yom Kippur reminder that I can’t hear or pass along often enough. Many writers I follow on Substack share this outlook. It is why I love their company:

The beneficent universe gave me a few first-hand treats this week, too, like this family of deer grazing beside the path on my way to work, and this great blue heron hunting on the river the same day as I rode home.

2. Celebrating new books!

One of the pleasures of the Substack platform is getting to know the smart writers behind new book releases. Here are a few new books that have caught my eye:

• Kathy Hopewell
  writes about surrealist women artists. She released her first novel on Tuesday, Swimming with Tigers, about art and friendship in France between the World Wars. (At least, I think it’s about that. I haven’t read it yet!) “He wanted to turn her into a work of art. She wanted to be an artist,” the cover teases.

• Also Tuesday,

  Stephanie Duncan Smith
  released Even After Everything for a reader “who is hopeful, though sometimes fears their hope.” Stephanie says the book belongs to readers now: “Story calls to story, deep calls to deep, creating a wholly unrepeatable human exchange.” I love how she thinks about the reader-book relationship.

• I’ve only heard once — at an academic conference on western literature — of the Dust Bowl author and editor Sanora Babb, so it was a great pleasure to discover that a biography of this “lost” woman writer was also released Tuesday, Riding Like the Wind: The Life of Sanora Babb, by

  Iris Jamahl Dunkle
  . That’s a no-brainer for my university library’s collection on the American West.

To learn more about any of these promising books or their authors, click on the book title above. Huge congrats to these writers for casting their literary offspring to the world!

Here at Quiet Reading, we don’t rush through books, so I still appreciate two releases from last month, when

Jo-Ann Finkelstein, PhD

’s Sexism & Sensibility and

Phyllis Cole-Dai

’s novel The Singing Stick were released a day apart.

• I am snacking on Jo-Ann’s very practical (and “sensible”) volume now, with chapters like “Beauty Is the Beast: Arming Girls for Battle” and “Giving the Gift of Bodily Autonomy: From Consent to Crop Tops.” This is a companionable book for parents trying to navigate up-to-the-minute challenges with daughters.

• The Singing Stick is waiting until the weather gets colder and I’m looking for a book to enchant me by the fire. According to the description, music “anchors” a son to his long-dead mother “in times of great unmooring,” while a nor’easter blows. Doesn’t that sound like a perfect November book to read by the fire?

Last (for now) in news of books I’m looking forward to, the ebullient

Evelyn Skye

just released a gorgeous cover and description of her next novel, The Incredible Kindness of Paper, about childhood friends who discover they are linked through origami flowers. Thank goodness I have time to catch up on other reading before that one comes out! Of course, I’m lining up for it.

We’re all readers here. If one or two of these books look enchanting to you, I hope you’ll pick up a copy and share back in future comments about what you recommend to others.

Meanwhile, how about taking a little inspiration from

David E. Perry

(in his underoos and tent) and slipping outside?

3. Why is the ash tree called an ash? (An autumn whimsy)

Dusk. Orange and yellow leaves flared before the snuff of night. A long shutter speed created the impression of day above and evening below. Photo by Tara Penry.

Across the street from my house, the mighty ash trees lining a path to public trails are singing their autumn song in bright regalia. You know what communicators trees are, yes? Well, we have been talking back and forth in the evenings, the ash trees and I, and they gave me this little whimsy to pass to you:

Why is the ash tree called an ash?
I do not find it ashen.

It lifts its limbs Octoberward
In fine autumnal fashion.

It shades the walk and shelters
Many a furtive squirrel’s cache; 'n'

Rustles to the reverent dusk
With plenitude and passion.

Why is the ash tree called an ash?
Our language goes to smash when

The objects of beatitude
Arise, erupt, surpass --

End.

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4. Coming up next . . .

Speaking of poems …

You’re invited to record yourself reciting a poem from memory, short or long, silly or solemn, for the little gathering on October 25th that I announced a few weeks ago.

I asked my readers in Substack Notes to suggest poems to commit to memory. The answers are collected here (“Poems to Carry in the Blood”), along with the original invitation to publish a video or audio recording of yourself reciting a favorite poem. Tag me (@tarapenry) so I’ll get a notification, and I’ll collect the results.

*

My posts have been less than regular the last few weeks. I’m going to change up the schedule a bit. Here’s what to expect:

🖋️ I’ll send my next post on October 25th — Poems to Carry in the Blood, Part 1, will be my own video recitation of a poem hand-picked for your enjoyment.

🎥 The following Friday, November 1st — Poems to Carry in the Blood, Part 2, will collect the links that other people have shared with me.

📆 Biweekly in November — Posts planned for Nov. 15 and 29, or thereabouts. Thank you for reading and listening! I’ll see you in the comments.

Your Turn

If you enjoyed this post, click the Like button at the top or bottom of the email to help others find it. I love chatting with you in the comments, and it’s an honor when some of you share this with others.

New here? Click the speech bubble below and introduce yourself. I’m curious about what good fairy brought you to Quiet Reading. Many newcomers arrived in the last week. I’m delighted to meet you!

What is bringing you hope or joy or beatitude this mid-October? (If you’ve written about this at your own newsletter, please feel welcome to add a link to a post on this topic.)

Have a beautiful eight days until we’re here again. You’re part of my October comfort. It’s a joy to write for you! 🌻