I’m the October surprise! It’s me! I’m back. I’ve missed you my Pithians. Forgive my neglectful abandonment. I was napping.
The election
Soon we’ll know whether to celebrate or rend our garments in despair. In the meantime, the “undecided voters” really need to hand in their grown-up card. Or maybe Google “How to make a decision”? Perhaps take a class in civics? Or read the news? Read something other than social media?
I have a friend whose theory about “undecideds” is that they just like the attention, and honestly, maybe she’s on to something. After trying to listen to an interview with a couple of undecided voters, I think ‘thirsty for fame’ is the best-case scenario. They don’t immediately sound stupid; they sound like they’re thoughtfully sharing ideas. Then you notice they’re just making vague sentences out of words. After a few minutes you’ll hear it. Morons.
The differences between the two candidates are so stark. The amount of information you can access about either one of them is so bottomless. The analysis of their platforms—either by partisan hacks or by esteemed economists and historians—is everywhere. These people who “can’t decide” are morons.
They say things like, “Well, I need to do a little more research. I just, I’m not sure I’ve heard exactly what Harris is going to do for me.” More than 330 million people live in the United States–since when does the president have to make a specific appeal to each individual voter? Since when does the presidential platform have to give you exclusive personal benefits?
This isn’t like buying a car. Can’t we think like citizens? It’s a big job to govern a country this vast and diverse in a world plagued with violence and natural disasters. I’ll be glad if the next president can do things that serve those worse off than me, that she can lead with integrity and intelligence, that she’s a champion for peace and liberty, and that she will protect us and the planet from our worst inclinations. I’m one of millions, I don’t expect a personal entreaty. (I mean, unless she’s asking for money. Those I get every 20 minutes.)
And I’m sorry that I sound mean and judgey. You should hear what I have to say about Trumpers. I won’t go off on them though1*, because back in July when Trump was shot, my first reaction was this sense of “This is the moment. Historians will say this assassination attempt was the first salvo in the second civil war.” Granted, I’m a catastrophist, but still. So glad that didn't happen. Yet. Thus, I will keep a tiny little postage stamp of space in my heart for Trump voters, because they are my fellow Americans.
I will, however, excoriate Trump and Vance at any opportunity. Trump is thoroughly unhinged. Of that sulfurous turd, Kara Swisher says “every accusation is a confession with him,” and boy does she get it right. His latest: Kamala is “mentally unstable.” Have you seen his rambling blather at campaign rallies?
Amazingly however, we seem to be in a dead heat. And many people I know who don’t live in deep blue regions like mine tell me they’re pretty certain Trump will win. So please vote. For Kamala.
What else is there?
Fiction! God bless wonderful novels that take me away from my fury and anxiety. I’ve read so many books since last time I wrote, so we’ll do three today–two that sort of occupy a similar place, and one that is a surefire pleaser for every single one of you Pithburgers. Pithettes. Pithists. Pitharinos. Pithos. Pithifuls. People.
Beautyland
I loved Beautyland so much. Marie-Helene Bertino’s writing is so emotional, original, and funny. It’s one of those books, like Nothing to See Here, that wraps its intense emotional resonance in a protective outer shell of weird. Instead of Kevin Wilson’s self-combusting children, we have an alien named Adina who communicates with her home planet via a garbage-picked fax machine. Her home language is too complicated for humans to vocalize so her planet of origin is called “Planet Cricket Rice.”
If I’ve already lost you, hold on: This kooky storyline is a Trojan horse that delivers a devastating and genuine tale of the bright, unique daughter of a single mother growing up in Philly in the 1980s.
We follow Adina through her awkward adolescence into her awkward adulthood. I fell so in love with her and her best friend. I saw myself in Adina and not just because the setting coincides with my own teenage years. I ached with her when she grieved, when she was misunderstood, when she felt her alien-ness. There’s a funny passage where she’s drafted to cover the varsity soccer game for her school paper. She files a thrilling and vivid recounting of what she experienced, except forgets to report on the score.
After devouring this gem of a novel, I stalked the reviews and online chats about the book. Conversations naturally turned to whether she really was an alien. Maybe she was just a person trying to find her way in the world, or perhaps she was mentally ill the whole time, and many contend this novel is a tribute to people who live on the autism spectrum. I feel a little like a dipshit, but the whole time I read it, I just accepted that Adina was in fact an alien from Planet Cricket Rice.
Similarly, when I read Life of Pi. I chose to believe there was an actual talking tiger in the boat; this might say something about my less-than-impressive capacity to understand literature. Whatever. And wherever Adina is really from, this is a book about loneliness, love, and how alien it can feel to be human.
It’s also so funny in spots. For example, here’s one of Adina’s observations about NYC:
“Living in New York.. is like sitting at a nine-million-person blackjack table. We work together against the dealer. If you call on 11 (request a fresh bagel to be toasted), the table scowls at you. If a group of New Yorkers are walking against the light, you can cross. If a group of New Yorkers avoid a subway car, it is covered in feces… Life in New York is a series of no-look passes.”
Speaking of New York, we deserve better than Mayor Adams. I knew this guy was a scammer when it came out that he actually lived in Ft. Lee. This city has millions of people who want a leader who can help improve the schools, clean up the subways, deal with the crime. Instead, we get this guy. Wasting our time finagling first class plane tickets to Turkey.
The Ministry of Time
I have less to say about The Ministry of Time. I’ll start with the absolute greatest part: The chemistry between the romantic leads crackles with fantastic sexy wit, and for that reason alone it’s worth checking out.
It’s weird like Beautyland because it’s a time travel novel that’s also a romance that’s also a social satire that’s also a thriller. Fearlessly mashing up genres and whatnot is a gimmick I will always show up for.
One of the lead characters, Graham Gore, is an actual historical figure from the year 1847 who was on a doomed ship in the frozen Arctic. He is brought to the present via this new technology and our narrator is his minder—they live together and the sexual tension kicks off early. It’s utterly believable and organic because he’s so charming, smart, and courageous. He’s the best part of the book.
I hate saying this because I know writing a novel is a monumental endeavor, but I think this could’ve been much shorter. Toward the end, I was sort of flipping around looking for scenes with Graham, and I lost interest in the bigger plot points. This might be just me; maybe you’ll love it all.
Beautyland, however, had me slowing down because I didn't want to finish the book, then weeping at the end. So if you’re looking for a novel that completely knocks you out and drags your emotions out onto the floor, Beautyland is the one. If you’re looking for a great rom-com with some funny/thriller/time travel thrown in, check out The Ministry of Time.
The Rachel Incident
Here’s the surefire crowd pleaser. No weird alien shit, no complicated time travel nonsense. Caroline O’Donoghue has penned a story that is a perfect delight. It was recommended to me, and I will be recommending this one plenty. It’s the dark days of Ireland's recession (circa 2009?) and we fall in with Rachel and her best friend and roommate, an absolute charisma bomb who is also a somewhat closeted gay guy.
I found them both immediately genuine and interesting, and their sloppy disastrous lifestyle was reminiscent of my own early 20s. It was a different kind of time travel than what The Ministry of Time offered, and in many ways more satisfying.
So much happens in this story: betrayal, blackmail, lust, love, even mistaken identities. She works for her professor’s wife while keeping some secrets for the professor, and she has a boyfriend she can’t figure out. It’s all incredibly entertaining to read, beautifully done. It’s light but not stupid. And she nails the ending. Austen-level wrap up. 6 out of 5 stars.
I, alas, have no Austen-level wrap up. Except this: Be decisive in your life. Have a point of view. Make a decision fer chrissakes. Sometimes it really matters.
Well just a little. If you’re a woman and you’re voting for Trump and Vance, wow. Their platform is openly misogynist. These men are not your dad. And you are a grown woman. Read about the myth of the strong man and fascism, please.
As a non-American, I'm also shaking in my boots. How is it that one countries politics affects every other part of the world? Well, that's America for you. Thank you for sharing.