Plus, Zoe Dubno weighs in on the Thomas Bernhard discourse.
Book Gossip

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This month: We asked a bunch of people about their reading rituals, Zoe Dubno responds to that review of her book in The Baffler, we report from Dua Lipa’s sold-out NYPL event, and the September books that are worth your money.   

Jasmine Vojdani

Senior newsletter editor

STEALING TIME

Where and When Do You Read? We asked book critics, authors, Substackers, New York staffers, and other well-read people how they find the time. 

Photo: AMC

Would you really be so surprised to learn that we are reading less and less every year? Last month, a new study revealed that only 16 percent of Americans are reading for pleasure, which represents a 40 percent drop from peak rates just over a decade ago. (Terrifyingly, people are reading to their children less and less, too.) But in my corner of the internet, books don’t appear to have lost their status. Celebrities pose with them on boats and beaches and select them for their clubs and Bookstagrammers post towering stacks of their latest “hauls.” And though I surround myself with readers, it can easily feel harder and harder to make the time to spend with a book — and easier to buckle and give into distractions. 

So I asked an assortment of well-read people — critics, authors, Substackers — to tell me how, exactly, they find the time for books. In doing so, they described their daily routines, their home-furniture setups, and their children’s extracurriculars. One thing that came up over and over: the relentless, almost inescapable attention-zapping evil of the phone. If technology is waging a war on our attention spans, these soldiers are well-prepared for the fight. 

Molly Young, book critic and magazine writer 

I treat my phone like poison. I leave the house as much as possible without it. After I had a kid, people were like, “What if there's an emergency?” Every fucking person on Earth has a phone. I'll ask the person sitting eight inches away. 

Once you are released from the grip of your phone, you have like eight extra hours in the day and reading becomes way easier. It feels like a treat and not like something that you have to strive to do. I always have a book in my bag so that during all those interstitial waiting periods — e.g., in line at checkout — I'm reading a paragraph instead of doing nothing. I only read paper books. I don't listen to audiobooks just because I can't have things in my ears all the time because then I don't have an internal monologue, which is really scary.

I keep a list of books that I read every year, probably between 60 and 130. Which doesn't feel like that many, but I'm a slow reader, so that's my excuse.

Ochuko Akpovbovbo, writer on Substack

I'm pretty militant with my reading. Every month, I put together a list of ten books that I want to read that month. If I make that list, I will stick to it. 

I write my newsletters three days a week. The days that I write my newsletter, I read 50 pages. The days that I don't, I read 100, sometimes 150. The first thing I do immediately after writing is go on a walk somewhere, take my book, and read. If I have time before bed I read as well. On average I read a book in three days.

I am very comfortable reading with background noise. I put on YouTube in the background. For a long time I lived alone in Germany and I was a bit lonely and would put vlogs on my projector — vlogs of people talking about books. It's like the Sad Girl digital equivalent of people going to reading clubs.

Emily Gould, author and features writer at New York

I get a little reading done on my commute, but unfortunately my commute is really short. I wish that my commute was like five subway stops longer, although that would mean that I worked in midtown. 

I do school drop-off. As a reward for that, my husband or a sitter does school pickup. If I get home from work early enough, I have my commute plus half an hour to an hour of lying-on-the-couch reading time. (I like to be prostrate.) That adds up to ideally an hour and a half per day. Then after the kids go to bed, I get to read a little bit before TV-watching time. And then after TV-watching time — we only do one episode of TV a night — I get to read as long as I can keep my eyes open. This is policed by my husband, who, if it's past 11:30, will start nudging me while he's supposedly asleep. Then I'll turn out the light. But sometimes I'll secretly read more on my phone after he's soundly asleep. I'm like, cheating on my marriage with literature. 

I’m never reading more than two books at a time. I have my physical book and my phone book. The phone book will be something lighter and trashier. The physical book will be something for work or something that you wouldn't be embarrassed to be seen reading. I will either buy or borrow an e-book of the book that I'm reading a physical copy of and then switch between the two. I don't wanna be caught in any situation without the book where I could fit in even five minutes of reading time. 

Lauren Michele Jackson, New Yorker contributing writer and assistant professor at Northwestern 

I do a lot of reading for work, which means that I end up scheduling the really constitutive reading that needs to get done — to the point of literally time blocking in my iCal. “From this time to this time you're gonna be reading this thing.” I live and die by my iCal. If it's not in there, it's literally not gonna happen. I have a Good Reads goal that is a kind of North Star. My goal is 52 books a year. 

I actually don't know what the proportion is between work reading and non-work reading. I probably do more reading that is at least adjacent to New Yorker work or scholarly work or teaching. I try to read a couple chapters of a novel really early in the morning or during lunch. On planes, I get a lot of reading done, probably because you don't have the internet.

Nicole Richie, actress and fashion designer

I read whenever I can. While I don’t have a lot of rules around my reading, I do have a few little habits that keep my reading flow in forward motion. Whatever book I am reading is next to my bed, because I love to read in the morning. I wake up around 5:30 a.m. when everyone else is asleep and that is my reading time. I have not yet checked my phone or any electronics so my mind feels focused and ready to lock into a story. It’s usually a novel. I love reading fiction at home in bed. 

I also always carry a book on me. I have a few smaller books of essays I keep in my car, and whatever novel I am reading goes with me everywhere. I like a good old-fashioned book. I feel connected to my book by holding it, flipping through it, bending it. When it’s on me, I can read a page or two whenever I can. I never read without a pencil. I underline and write notes in the margin while I read. I don’t really lend my books to friends because most of the books I have too many personal notes in them. Sometimes I am so immersed in a book that when it ends, I feel hungover. It’s hard for me to jump right into another book after one has just taken a hold of you to that level. Then I go about a week without reading anything, and it can be hard getting back into the flow.

I try not to put strict goals around my reading, because the moment it turns into an assignment, I am not enjoying it. It’s why I don't belong to a book club. Reading is my private time to do something I love, and I don't like to report to anyone while I'm doing it. On average, I read about a book a week. I am not keeping score. I should ask my cats, they would know …

Andrew Lipstein, author of Something Rotten, The Vegan, and Last Resort

I didn't like reading when I was a kid and kind of discovered books after college. Back then I probably only read like, 20, 25 books a year. Then my dad had an injury and became blind in 2017. So I started sourcing all of his audiobooks and gave them a try myself and basically became addicted. 

Things really changed last year when my wife and I had twins and were taking turns being up all night. So I would read at least a book in the middle of the night by audio. Around that time, I also developed troubles with reading physically, related to OCD. Audiobooks have actually helped me through that because by necessity, I have to miss things. Which is why some people don't consider it like actually reading. We have three young kids now, and so much of my day is doing mindless physical tasks. So I am always listening to audiobooks.

This year I made it a New Year's resolution to read less, because last year, I read 274 books (of which five were physical copies) and realized I was overdoing it. For 2025, it's going to be near 200. I mostly use Libby, and that tracks all the books you've borrowed.

Book people are going to be incensed by this, but I often listen while I am playing speed chess. I also often listen somewhere between 1.5 and 2.5x. If it's a book that I really love or fiction, which demands a lot more attention, I will not do that. What I really don't like about audiobooks is that it inherently makes me look at my phone. As a writer I value the concept of boredom because it’s very useful in having ideas and letting your brain explore. Now I have to actively choose when to be bored. 

Merve Emre, New Yorker contributing writer and professor at Wesleyan

I just don't do anything else. We don't have a television. I'm not on TikTok or doing any form of scrolling social media. I can't remember the last time I saw a movie. I don't actually have any habits except to just be reading all the time I'm not writing or with my kids. And actually most of the time I'm with my kids, I'm also reading because they were habituated from a very young age to read all the time as well. It's very much our primary leisure-time activity as a family, a convenience that I feel like my ex and I created because we wanted to not only be able to do our reading, but also share it with our kids.

I'm a hard-copy person all the way. The only audiobook I've ever listened to was Jeremy Irons’s narration of Lolita when my first son was born because it was just too hard to read and entertain a baby at the same time. I hate reading on the screen. I usually am reading one book at a time unless there's something really hefty that I'm working my way through. 

My kids are usually in bed by nine so I'm usually reading at least from then to midnight or until one in the morning. On the weekends, I think I usually spend between five to six hours each weekend day with a book. When I judge prizes I know how much I'm reading because I have a certain quantity of books that I have to read, but I don't keep track. It's just never occurred to me to keep track. 

I really have contempt for people who are precious about where they do it. I can read anywhere. I read on the bleachers at the kids' soccer practice. I read everywhere in my house — on the couch, in a chair, at the kitchen table, at the kitchen counter, in bed. When I was a kid, I used to read walking down the street. I read at the gym when I'm the elliptical or I'm on the StairMaster. I read on the subway and feel virtuous because everybody's on their phones. Wherever, everywhere, anywhere. 

Stephanie Wambugu, author of the novel Lonely Crowds and editor at Joyland

Right now it's sort of atypical because I just had the book come out and I've had the experience for the first time of being asked to do blurbs. Because my work since grad school has been adjuncting and working on my book, I organized my life around having enough time to read and write. I would often hole up at home during the day and spend many hours a day reading. 

This is the first time in my life where I've had to think really deliberately about how to carve out time to do the reading I need to do and the reading I want to do in order to sustain my own writing practice, because I find it very difficult to write fiction when I'm not reading. Throughout the day I'm just reading when I feel compelled to. I have a space on my mantle where I keep the books that I frequently reread and I'll pick titles up and read a few pages if I need to refer back to something for something that I'm writing. I'm always going in and out of the books that I'm reading at any given time. I read on the train, usually while going into the city. I read after dinner. 

I usually read a novel a week but I've never read more than when I worked at a bookstore. Everyone was reading so much and so quickly and it was very infectious. I only read an e-book or a book on Kindle if I have to. I have an iPad and that makes it easier. I try not to read more than two books at a time and usually I need it to be for different purposes. 

Chi Ossé, councilmember for New York City’s 36th District in Brooklyn

I listen to a lot of audiobooks, especially when commuting and when I'm traveling. Audiobooks are so useful, but I do really enjoy a physical book! I think physical books are a non-nightmare-inducing melatonin, if you know what I mean. I usually read right before bed, too. There’s, of course, phone time, and then I transition. 

I tend to usually read one book at a time. I like to treat them like accomplishments when I finish them. I don’t know if this is lame, but I track my reading progress by counting the number of books I finish in a year. I tend to finish seven to ten books a year. I'm not sure if that's on the lower end? I still think that's such an accomplishment, because I've recently gotten back into reading. 

Kaitlin Phillips, publicist and writer on Substack

I don't think it's hard to find time to do anything. I don't lock my phone in the other room. I read with a phone. I take photos of the book because you can search your photos for the word “book” and I love that feature. 

My best reading is while commuting. I live in Connecticut so the train is where I'm doing most reading now. I have to come to the city once, maybe twice a week. But in my household, my husband reads every night before he goes to bed and I'm not allowed to use my phone in bed when he's doing that so I get cowed into joining him. His rituals are stronger and healthier than mine and I just fall into line. I do about half of what he does, half the exercise, half the reading. And that's good enough for me. 

My minimum is a book a week, ideally two to three. This is sort of ironic, but my Substack, which is a lot about books, is ruining my reading time because I used to read before work and now I always Substack. But now I read a book a weekend no matter what. I use Kindle on my phone, Kindle proper, and also physical books. My husband’s mental health is tied to how much he reads, so he’s implemented a lot of strategies. I’m basically being forced to read when I don't want to.

Boris Kachka, books editor at The Atlantic 

I just try to find time whenever I can. There are times when I have to just read a lot of first and second chapters and assess a book’s subject matter and worthiness. Right now we are working toward our end-of-the-year list and that involves culling and passing around manuscripts in different forms. So I have to have more than one book going at the same time. Kindles don't really do PDFs that come over email, so I found an old iPad somewhere in storage and started using that. I do find myself reading on my computer and once had to convince the barista in a Brooklyn coffee shop that forbids laptops that I was reading on my laptop, not working. With fiction, where I just wanna be absorbed in it, it's easier for me to read a hard copy. I read whenever I can get a second — sometimes I'll sneak it in between tasks during the workday. Whenever we go to a park or wait for my son to finish his tennis lessons, we’re reading.

I now live a little north of the city, so I have an hour-plus commute three times a week to listen to usually a nonfiction audiobook at 1.3x speed. That's the speed I can tolerate. If I miss something I'll just go back. But these are books that I don't have to review myself, so I don't need to write in the margins or anything. I just kind of let it wash over me. It's a good way, depending on the quality of the reader, to engage with something that's like 25 hours long. I can like, check emails and get to Genius on the Spelling Bee at the same time. At night, once my kid goes to bed at nine o'clock, I'm usually reading from then to 11 when I try to go to bed. If I can't fall asleep, I might read some more. 

Becca Rothfeld, nonfiction book critic at the Washington Post

Because I read for my job, I probably have a lot more time to read than most people. My concern is making sure that I'm always reading something that isn’t reading for work. Partially because that's just important to do to stay alive, and partially because a lot of the books that I read for work are pretty bad. Even when I'm busy it’s the first thing I do every single day when I wake up. I read a work of fiction for an hour. 

I'm usually reading three or four books at a time. There's the book that I read every morning for an hour and then on the weekends; the book that I'm reading for my Washington Post job; then at night before bed I read another book, usually short stories or essays, for half an hour; and if I'm doing research for another piece or my book, I'm trying to read that in bits and pieces in the afternoon. I definitely prefer to read in a reclining position or in the bathtub, but obviously when I go to the office that doesn't happen. If a book is serious to me, I always read it physically. 

I keep a private list of all the books that I've read, but I try not to get into the mindset of wanting to maximize the number because I feel like if you do that then you tend to opt for reading shorter novels over longer ones. You want to feel open to reading Proust. I mostly keep a list because people ask me for book recommendations or I'm writing a piece where I'm trying to think of every book that has a woman who killed her husband. That's just an example. 

Liz Montesano, founder of Open Book Club

Even if I went out and was drinking, I have to look at a page before I go to bed. I honestly can't really fall asleep now without reading something for 30 minutes to an hour. I'm definitely sitting upright, leaning back on a pillow against the headboard. And then I always have a highlighter and sticky notes on a little tray that I keep by bed. I make it cute: I’ll light a candle and use the Muji highlighters. I think annotating helps you sit with books more and enjoy them more. You're like, Wow, I wanna remember that sentence. I love writing in books and I think that's also liberating in the same way that knowing that you can put a book down is liberating. You don't have to be so precious with your books. They should be used.

Tomi Obaro, culture editor, New York

I started making a list of all the books that I read in 2018. Even though I don’t think you should be judging how well you absorb or enjoy a book based on how many you read in a year, I found that going back and counting them periodically would incentivize me to be like, Okay, instead of being on my phone after dinner, I'm going to read. I also have a Kindle, which unfortunately does help a lot, and the Kindle app on my phone. I usually have two going: a Kindle book that I'm reading and a physical book that I'm reading. 

I have emotional responses to books on planes and I do like the fact that I don’t have internet access. I try to read when I am waiting on line, when I'm traveling. If I borrow something from the library, then I feel obligated to read it first because I have to return it. 

I’ve read 26 books this year so far. When I first started logging, I was reading about a hundred books a year. I am a fast reader but as a result of that, sometimes I do forget. I could have read a book and really loved it and then sometimes struggle to remember what the plot was about. 

Jackson Howard, senior editor at Farrar, Straus, and Giroux 

For my job I spend a lot of time with words that I love, but that isn't pleasure reading. So I really try to make a priority of it. I will purposely shove my phone to the bottom of my tote bag for my morning commute, which gives me about 20 minutes of reading time in the morning. I live right next to an amazing park in Bed–Stuy and, on weekends, I combat my overwhelming addiction to my various screens (which I think is a losing battle), leave my phone in the apartment, and go read in the park for 30 or 45 minutes. I read a little bit before bed, but I have a boyfriend who tends to fall asleep at like 9:30 p.m., so if I'm reading too late with the light on, I get gently reprimanded. 

Because of the nature of what I do, I am being sent so many books and I purchase so many books that I just don't have time to read everything I'm curious about. So if I spend 75 to 100 pages with a book and feel strongly about that, I will note it. I'll get to like, 15 books a year for fun and hopefully finish most of them. But I can tell you that if I'm not liking something after 50 pages, I chop it because life is too short and I'm too busy. 

Carlos Lozada, New York Times “Opinion” columnist and winner of the 2019 Pulitzer Prize in criticism 

At any given moment I'm reading several books for different reasons, for work or for fun. I also serve on a prize jury. People think you need to carve out multiple uninterrupted hours of reading time. But if I'm watching a Notre Dame football game on TV, I'll leave the family room during halftime and read during those 20 minutes. If I'm taking my youngest to his baseball practice, I'll go back to my car and read. If I'm ten minutes early to pick someone up, I'll read. Most mornings I work out or go for a swim and when I'm done, I sit out in the park in front of the YMCA and read for ten minutes. Stealing time is kind of how I think of it. 

Julie Kosin, senior TV editor, Vulture 

As a TV editor, I read a lot because it feels like my reward for watching TV. The year that I started this job, I only read 12 books. When the last season of Succession was on, I did not read for that entire period. But I read a lot in the summer. I've packed like 15 books to read with me on vacation where there will be no distractions. Now I try to read 52 books a year. I use the app StoryGraph to track everything. I put my goal in, and it tells me when I’m on track to hit it or not. The data is just so fun to look at. 

Kevin Lozano, associate literary editor at The Nation

A lot has changed since a daily commute has been taken out of my life. That's where I used to do a lot of my leisure reading. Now most of my leisure reading happens right when I wake up. What I read for pleasure almost has nothing to do with what's coming out in a publishing year. I'm often filling in the gaps of my reading. Right now I'm reading The Magic Mountain; this summer I was in a Ulysses reading group. So I often have a book project, a long and a hard book, and in between that, I will also read two or three things for work. Before I assign a book, I try to read at least like the first 50 to 100 pages of it. I end up reading like the first third of maybe a dozen books in a month.

I like to be seated with the book open on a desk. I like having my back straight and sort of feeling like I'm doing homework. My best reading has always been focused in a rigid manner. I don't like getting comfortable weirdly, because l fall asleep pretty easily. I can't read a novel at the beach.

The thing that I tried to do really when I first started having to read professionally is not be very holy or organized about my own personal reading. I don't really keep track. I like just finishing something or if I don't finish it, it's fine. I like to read a lot of different things and not finish them and just see what takes me. I've always been kind of against the competitive thing of people having to index their consumption precisely.

 

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DISCOURSE

Who Is Allowed to Get Their Bernhard On? Zoe Dubno responds to the chatter about her debut novel. 

Zoe Dubno’s audaciously Bernhardian Happiness and Love — which imagines a group of young New Yorkers reuniting for a dinner party the same day of their friend’s funeral, à la Woodcutters — was one of two books featured in a dual review by Adrian Nathan West in The Baffler about “the literary remake.” The other was Vincenzo Latrionico, the author of Perfection, a Berlin-set millennial spin of George Perec’s Things, which the reviewer praised. Meanwhile, West called Dubno’s book a “self-promotion vehicle,” citing the galley’s publicity copy — which authors have no control over — as ostensible proof. In response, the writer and scholar Danielle Carr posted her letter to The Baffler’s editors on X, arguing that, owing to the review’s lack of evidence, “There is very little in this review you could point to to disprove the hypothesis that the reviewer is a man who is angry that a female author who happens to be attractive and young has published a successful book.” As Greta Rainbow pointed out for Dirt, Dubno is not even the only writer this year inspired by Thomas Bernhard’s contagious contempt, and Dustin Illingsworth wrote at length in 2021 about other English-language examples of Bernhadrian rants — not to mention the myriad literary traditions that have taken up his monologue since the '80s. (Indeed, West has previously taken out at least one male Bernhard imitator.) I called up Dubno to ask about the surprisingly hot-button move of taking on Bernhard as a young woman.

“I didn't even see it until I was sent it by Vincenzo,” she said. “He wrote that he disagreed with the review of my book, which ‘uses mine as a baton to hit you in the head’ and that he’d loved mine. He said also clearly this guy is a Bernhard guy and doesn't know anything about Perec or he'd be coming for him too. Though, I don't know, it could also be that I am a chica.” Dubno also shared that prior to her book’s release, she received an anonymous email saying that Bernhard would spit in her face. “There's really something emotional for these people who think that this misanthropic guy was their one thing that they could rally against. And now some (God forbid!) woman is going to bring it into the mainstream.” She added, “The fact that I have the balls to be like a blonde woman with tits who comes over and touches Daddy — I'd also be mad at me if I were him.”

Q&A

Getting Lit Reports from a few events we went to this month.

Photo: Mike Coppola

Dua Lipa’s Service95 Book Club at the New York Public Library: Turns out a lot of people want to listen to Dua Lipa interview the Hungarian English author David Szalay about his Booker Prize–nominated novel, Flesh — there was a line around the block more than 30 minutes before the event. But once inside, not many of them seemed to have read it. Two 30-somethings, Desiree and Lindita, told me they’ve followed Service95 since its inception. They were quick to admit they hadn’t read any of Dua’s book-club picks yet, but Lindita plans to pick up her July selection, Small Boat by Vincent Delecroix. A 23-year-old New York native named Mia, meanwhile, had no idea Dua Lipa even had a book club: She found out about the event as a longtime NYPL email subscriber. Much like the other people she hung out with in line, she didn’t have time to read Flesh.

During the Q&A, Dua proved herself to be a great interviewer: She was prepared, moved nimbly through the conversation, and really engaged with Szalay's work. She made a story about Hungarian boyhood seem almost as exciting as a single off Radical Optimism. One young woman in front of me seemed particularly engaged in Dua’s critique of the book’s gender dynamics, vigorously nodding her head throughout the interview. Later, when I asked why she came, she admitted she hadn’t read the book: “I read, but I’m mostly just here for Dua.” The interview was meant to be followed by questions from listeners, but Spotify chief public-affairs officer Dustee Jenkins asked all the questions instead.

On my way out, I saw two modest-size lines: one of people buying the book, and the other of those waiting to get it signed. But most attendees left in a hurry — they were trying to catch a glimpse of Dua exiting the library before resuming her shows at Madison Square Garden. —Emily Leibert, writer, the Cut

An invite-only celebration of Nicholas Boggs’s Baldwin: A Love Story, at Atelier Jolie: The night opened with a conversation to kick off “The Strangers,” an exhibition curated by Catharsis Arts Foundation co-founder Claude Grunitzky and Ekow Eshun featuring photos of James Baldwin by Sedat Pakay and works by Beauford Delaney. Boggs said, “If loving Baldwin starts on TikTok, that’s fine. Let’s move from there.” Marion Cotillard sat toward the back, intermittently dabbing her eyes with a napkin throughout the talk. Also present were French actor Omar Sy, Salman Rushdie, Judith Thurmann, Jonathan Galassi, Lynn Nottage, Monica Miller, Hari Kunzu, Katie Kitamura, and James Baldwin’s nephew, Trevor Baldwin. The talk was followed by an intimate dinner.

WHAT TO READ

The September Releases You Should Buy, Skip, or Put on Hold at the Library

The Wilderness, by Angela Flournoy 
A notable entry in the quickly expanding friendship-as-the-real-love-story canon, this novel follows five friends over the course of two decades. It’s incredibly realistic, mimicking the rhythms of real life — friends move, drift apart, come back together, make questionable choices. It’s one of the few books I’ve read that cedes so much space to the outside world while keeping the narrative intimate and deeply personal. It also explores the possibility of form — part three shifts tenses, incorporates poetry, plays with the speculative. On that front, it’s masterful. But at times the novel is perhaps too faithful to the quiet, mundane stretches of life and its unpredictability. It makes for an unruly book that sometimes gets away from itself but is ultimately asking the right questions and gesturing toward the answer — how do we live a life despite? Flournoy seems to say we do our best to hang together, and we move. Borrow. —Tembe Denton-Hurst, writer, the Strategist

Will There Ever Be Another You, by Patricia Lockwood
You’re not picking this up unless you know Lockwood’s deal: Irreverent, slightly batty, and more than a little internet-brained, the poet ascended to book-world eminence with her 2017 memoir, Priestdaddy, a rowdy treatise on growing up with a priest for a father, and 2021’s No One Is Talking About This, a novel about social-media addiction and family tragedy. Will There Ever Be Another You is a sequel (threequel?) of sorts, fiction only in name as it recounts Lockwood’s battle with long COVID and experience of adapting her memoir, Priestdaddy, while mourning her infant niece. This is full-throated Lockwood, a writer who demands you agree to the ride and ask no questions, this time on a tour of her brain ravaged by incomprehensible illness. This renders the book at times incomprehensible, occasionally hilarious, and often profound, a can’t-miss for Lockwood fans but a tough entry for newbies. Check out Priestdaddy instead. Skip. —Julie Kosin, senior editor, Vulture

Exit Lane, by Erika Veurink
It’s graduation day at the University of Iowa, and Marin and Teddy have been set up by a mutual friend to roadtrip to New York City together. Icy, beautiful Marin wants to get as far away from the Midwest as possible, while Teddy dreams of one day moving back to his hometown to live next door to his best friend and raise a family. They have immediate chemistry, but once they arrive in the city, Marin sends him packing. So begins eight years of chance encounters where our tortured protagonists long for each other from afar. If you’ve been curious about 831 Stories, the buzzy new romance imprint that launched last year, start here. Buy. —Jordan Larson, features editor, the Cut

Grand Rapids, by Natasha Stagg
In Natasha Stagg’s latest novel, 15-year-old Tess is living in a cookie-cutter suburb of Grand Rapids, Michigan, with her aunt and uncle. It’s 2001, not too long after the September 11 attacks, and very little is happening around her. In between rotisserie-chicken dinners and Sundays at church, she hangs out with the same friends and messages with a politician in an online chat room. And yet, a lot transpires too: She falls in love and loses her virginity, not with the same person, and feels the absence of her mother, who passed away from cancer that year. The book jumps perspectives to 20-something Tess as she reminisces on this strange stage of her life. It’s an interesting direction for Stagg, who’s best known for her blasé insider commentary on downtown New York, but it feels kind of listless, even considering that some of this listlessness is by design. I wish the book offered more ambiance, psychological insight, or formal experimentation. Skip. —Cat Zhang, culture writer, the Cut 

 

In Other News …

  • Sources say that “It” girl Cat Marnell is shopping around her debut novel. 
  • Parents of students at P.S. 20 are allegedly passing around an annotated copy of Sleep by Honor Jones — whose children attend the school — in which they’ve identified themselves, fellow parents, and teachers. 
  • Exclusive: The new literary magazine Empty Set, focusing on the intersection of writing and tech, will be helmed by Alex Molotkow, a senior editor at Real Life and founding editor at Hazlitt, tech critic and Cleveland Review of Books contributor Leo Kim, and Yale Ph.D. candidate Adam Silverman. Look out for their first edition next month.
  • New scam just dropped: Authors — including a number of New York staffers — are receiving emails inviting them to pay to be spotlit by a fake book club.
  • Anthropic will pay $1.5 billion to authors whose books were used to train its chatbot, Claude.
  • DeuxMoi reported earlier this month that an award-winning author is “getting cozy with a member of a European royal family.” Any guesses?
  • Did Amy Griffin fabricate her childhood-abuse story in The Tell, possibly to promote the therapeutic properties of MDMA? There’s a lot to be suspicious of in this story, but unfortunately the article doesn’t have the answers either. 
  • A certain Brooklyn bookseller has listed her Columbia Waterfront home for just under $5 million.
 
 

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