Mid-winter book reviews

Friends, there has been so much reading lately. Or, as my young niece wrote recently in the collaborative story we’re working on via postal mail, “a lot a lot a lot!” There have very definitely been hits and misses – see what you think! And put your own favorites and not-favorites in the comments!

Can’t Even: How Millennials Became the Burnout Generation, Anne Helen Petersen

I’ve started reading just about everything of Anne Helen Petersen’s that I can find; I really like her deft, pointed takes on culture both high and low. And even though I’m not a Millennial and don’t subscribe to the current obsession with generational labeling and associated squabbling, I very much enjoyed Can’t Even. Millennials are an embarrassingly easy target; it’s so effortless to criticize them for their avocado toast and their oat-milk lattes and their “Millennial pink” fixation. Also, though? They were definitely sold a bill of goods. They’re the first American generation who will have it markedly worse than both their parents and grandparents, not only in terms of overall life expectancy, but in terms of financial solvency, health span, climate change impact and many other significant socioeconomic markers. (Sidebar: The NYT recently ran a piece on how companies are desperately trying to convince workers to return to the office with “Instagrammable furniture;” Petersen wrote a scathing response clarifying that Millennials don’t actually really want hot-pink furniture, they want the opportunity to get out of debt and buy a house and even consider the option of retirement – which most of them don’t have right now.) Maybe those of us older than Millennials might want to stop criticizing their lack of work ethic and realize that we haven’t given them much to work for. This book drove home the phrase popularized during the height of the pandemic: “We’re all in the same ocean, but we’re definitely not in the same boat.” Some of us are sipping Champagne cocktails on the polished teak deck, and some of us are bailing a leaky rowboat. Context matters.

Enchantment: Awakening Wonder in an Anxious Age, Katherine May

I loved Katherine May’s previous book, Wintering, and I loved Enchantment as well. May writes beautifully about this awkward, uncertain time we’ve found ourselves in over the past few years, living through the pandemic and its aftermath. She writes of how we’re struggling to find our center, find our rhythm again, to break free of our doomscrolling habits where we’re all just constantly unsure and anxious and exhausted and watching and waiting for something – but what, we don’t know. An answer, perhaps? An explanation for the ever-expanding chaos of our world? May’s careful response is to actively search for enchantment in her everyday life, in swimming and hiking and gardening and watching the seasons change – anything that forces us to put down our devices for just a minute and breathe again. The writing in Enchantment is shimmery and ethereal, but the message – that enchantment can be found everywhere, if we just make an effort to really see – is what remains. Highly recommended.

The Vegan, Andrew Lipstein

Two weeks later and I’m still not certain of my feelings about The Vegan. Compelling, without question, but was it worth my time? Would I recommend it to others? I’m still debating that but leaning towards no. The Vegan is ostensibly about what it means to be a “good person;” it follows Herschel, a wealthy quant fund trader who has developed market-altering technology and who also plays a vicious prank that results in a calamitous outcome. No one in the book is remotely likable – not that that’s a prerequisite for an interesting book! – but ultimately I’m not clear on what the overall point was. Herschel is obnoxiously self-absorbed and definitely doesn’t learn anything; we can’t say he’s a better (or worse) person by the end of the story than he was at the beginning, so the hero’s quest ultimately has no teeth and therefore no meaning. I did like the sly commentary on the tacky sheen of new money, but The Vegan overall obviously left me unsettled and uncertain. I think it was trying too hard. If you’ve read it, please share your thoughts!

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The cold plunge

Ice on the stock tank where I dip.

The cold plunge is everywhere these days – most especially in early January – and I am not even on social media. I am so innately resistant to doing something just because everyone else is doing it that it feels exceptionally silly and performative to share this here, as though I’m shouting into the void, “Hey! I’m doing this too!” What sort of glittery prize do I want for this? Even so, I keep discovering beautiful, crystalline thoughts on cold plunges and they seem like just the thing to share when I have a hard time putting my own experience into words.

From Ani Lee: “Saying that this practice feels good is not exactly accurate, that would negate the fact that it is actually kind of painful. But it feels helpful, really helpful…The experience of cold dipping feels good, I think, because it requires all of your attention. You can’t think about anything when your body is trying to stop you from freezing. I am most a body when I am dipping. But cold dipping is, somehow, its own kind of cozy…There’s something about taking my body to a place of deep discomfort and saying ‘I will not abandon you here’.”

If it’s snowed, the gutters drip from above while I’m in the tank.

And from the brilliant Catherine Newman, writing on Cup of Jo: “But you learn to detach your mind from fear, and this is no small thing. Your whole life, your brain has been a generator generating preemptive anxiety and catastrophic possibility and now you stand at the water’s edge and you pull the plug on it. You hit mute on the shrieking voices of sanity and natural selection — “The water is too cold! You will die!” — so that you can wade in and, paradoxically, be well.”

Of course we live in America in the rapidly-dimming golden twilight of late-stage capitalism, and so of course you can spend many thousands of dollars on some sort of overly complicated backyard cold-plunge absurdity. Or you can run a hose from your ag tap and fill a galvanized stock tank that serves the exact same purpose and probably costs no more than two hundred bucks. Plus, the alpacas can still drink from it in the summer.

I’m not here to claim that cold plunges will cure all the world’s troubles. I do think, however, that we’d be far better off if we weren’t quite so comfortable all the time, and if we didn’t always look first to the pharmaceutical industry to solve all of our First World problems.

What are your thoughts, friends? Anyone else out there cold plunging this winter?