by Kristi Southern, Book Review Editor
So I’m still here, at the beach, where I was when I wrote the NCLR Editor’s Blog last August. Then, I was debating what was next and how long I’d be here, but today, I think I’ve answered that query with confidence. I’m staying. The change of season into warmer and longer days, slow days that are spent on the sand with a relaxed mind, solidify that decision. And what perfect days for enjoying some of our NC authors. If there is any guilt for lounging with a book – and trust me, there is very little room for it here, as we should never feel guilty for slowing down and doing what makes us happy – I can remind myself that I am doing something quite valuable, really: professional development, editorial research, supporting NCLR’s mission, and most importantly, supporting our wonderful NC authors.
I’m currently reading Sheryl Cornett’s new novel, No Secrets in this House. Penned by one of our very own book reviewers and set on Ocracoke Island, this can’t be more fitting for my first novel of the season. One of my favorite things about reading NC literature is the familiarity, the mentions of places and parts that I know firsthand. So far, Sheryl’s book is scratching that itch, including Hatteras Village, ferry rides, Morehead City, and Raleigh. One character has left Raleigh for the refuge of Ocracoke, and as she is prodded to return to the Triangle, this East Carolinian cheers her on to stay on the coast for the summer. I am slowly easing into the story, not allowing myself to plow through too quickly, so as to savor and enjoy the mystery and love story and female friendships that I anticipate. How sweet it is to read something fun while labeling it as “work” – by someone whom I have had delightful digital communication with off and on in the recent past.
I started my early beach reading this spring with a taste of nonfiction, though, which is something I do not do often enough. A Spork in the Road by Beaufort’s Emily Carter was a pleasant reminder to not overlook this genre; she is funny and sassy and smart and sentimental and just really, really likeable. (One of our NCLR reviewers is currently working with this selection, so do be on the lookout for it in one of our upcoming online issues.) Reading her book makes me want to hang out in Beaufort, visit the farmers’ market on Saturday, treat myself to a matcha latte at Cru, browse the unique boutiques (don’t throw me in the briar patch) in hopes of accidentally running into the author. Her short snippets of life read like social visits, and her positive perspective and thoughtful reflection on small experiences loom quite large.
Emily’s writing reminds me of Jennifer McGaha’s The Joy Document, so I went back to it; I started it at the end of last season but somehow was distracted, as often happens to us all. What a treasure to find again. They’d make the most beautiful pair of pen pals, “beach mouse” Emily and “mountain mouse” Jennifer. I would read their exchanges; they would likely swap banana pudding recipes and share daily experiences that many of us take for granted until these two present them in such lovely literary light.
I am trying to learn from these writers’ examples – making a point to be grateful for the small joys that I am lucky enough to encounter in my new coastal home. Just last week we had a quick but fierce downpour in Atlantic Beach. Our little dead-end street floods fast, and I watched the water collect from inside my cozy upstairs abode. Then I watched it recede just as quickly soon after the rain ended, the wind relaxed, and the sun assumed its place again. Birds were bathing in what remained of the large puddle at the intersection of E Terminal and Wilson, and among them, I noticed a sweet little turtle creeping from the water to cross the road. Not on our watch, little buddy. We walked down in bare feet and bathing suits to scoop him up and safely place him in the neighbor’s yard – in the direction he was already heading, of course. Was he annoyed at the intrusion? Was he like me, not wanting any help if not absolutely needed? Maybe he was grateful for the free ride. I was grateful for the experience. It was a sidenote in the day, but it felt significant when I reflected on it – reflected on how small adventures add up to make our overall story developed and complete. How grateful I am for all the sidenotes and small adventures of the coastal summer, the freedom to slow down and choose when to read and when to walk and when to rest.
As I read Sheryl’s novel alongside Emily’s and Jennifer’s literary nonfiction, it dawns on me that this is not far off from how we live our lives anyway. We usually have something big happening – the main novel – whether it is a romance, a tragedy, a mystery, usually a drama, or some sort of mixture – but simultaneously there are little narrative detours that happen on the sidelines, like helping a turtle cross the street, encountering a possum pre-dawn, that friend who never leaves before saying she loves me, harvesting prickly pears from the margin of the dunes, a motivational instructor at spin class, Friday ice cream from Don’s shoppe, finding a wentletrap or perfectly incomplete sand dollar, just about every sunrise and every sunset. Such details are the colorful but subtle, nonfiction touches that help to develop the main story of a novel. These are also the rich experiences that I want to bask in, that NC literary contributors like Sheryl and Emily and Jennifer recognize and appreciate and pour into their writing, both fiction and nonfiction.
I hope you are all able to celebrate these small but special experiences, those that bring joy and color and make us grateful. I wish for you to also celebrate the season of beach reading – whether while actually on a coast or not. Don’t be fooled by that term. Beach reads are what you want them to be; they are light or deep or fast or funny or dark. No room for guilt here, remember?