January report

I am hearing talk that some people found January to be a long month. I guess I can relate? I filled it up with stuff alright, certainly with too much work, but also with more humane things, like pursuing a hobby that isn’t reading, and watching more than one movie. It’s kind of wild how consecutive 50+ hour weeks really disrupt a personal schedule. Had me feeling a little bit like a Ralph Marvell minus the old money lineage this month!1 

What’s in store for the year? More than a book a month, I hope. I also loved getting recommendations from Report readers so I hope there’s much more of that to look forward to in 2024 as well :)

What I read in January:

Edith Wharton, The Custom of the Country (1913)—The last time my first read of the year was a Wharton book was in 2020. I’m not saying there’s a connection between me using a 13-hour train ride to devour a novel that takes stock of a way of being that no longer exists and the global pandemic that was quietly germinating a continent away, but I’m not not saying it felt a little on the nose.

The thing about Wharton is that her style, her subjects, and her narratives are so powerfully modern that 100+ years later her books are still so—not relevant, but somehow fresh? The fact that Apple TV canceled Sophia Coppola’s 5-part series adaptation of The Custom of the Country because the main character, Undine Spragg, was “too unlikable” says so much about how Wharton’s inventions resonate in the present.

To be clear, Undine Spragg is a monster. And I don’t think monstrosity factors into likability. More importantly, likability is not a valid criterion for evaluating fictional people, especially when that value is overwhelmingly applied to female characters.

What makes Spragg interesting to me is that Wharton has not, like some contemporary authors, designed the character to challenge generic tropes or stereotypes about gender. Instead, Spragg is a medium for reflecting and magnifying life under capitalism. She is a woman to whom nothing matters but money and attention. Every single familial relation is only an object, a tool to bring her closer to her goals, immediately discarded when no longer useful. The velociraptors from Jurassic Park (1993) might as well have been modeled on Undine Spragg,2 who, in her quest to climb higher and higher on the social ladder, displays a frightening intelligence and a relentless drive. Unlikable? More like TOO REAL for the execs at Apple.

I wish I could be more articulate about thing I admire about Wharton. She’s one of the few modern writers born into immense privilege who also actually had genius-level talent. Like, I’m so glad she didn’t have to work because it freed her up to write and she also recognized that! Her critiques of class are sharp and engaging. Going back to Ralph Marvell, a character in The Custom of the Country who aspires to write but whose dreams are demolished by the unceasing demands of his soulless Wall Street job, you can see Wharton imagining what a job might do to the imagination, lol. Plenty of writers in the modern era got by just fine working in banks or insurance companies by day and writing at night, but Wharton I think knew she wasn’t built like that.

Anyway, there are many reasons I didn’t read more than one book this month, but one reason is that this long drama was a feast to be savored. How could I possibly want for more when I had already experienced the gift of this novel?

A final note: Wikipedia notes that Julian Fellowes found inspiration for Downton Abbey (2010-2015) in The Custom of the Country. Which, okay, I can see how Wharton’s close readings of the structure and codes of high society inform Fellowes’s show. But I also think that there must be at least a little bit of The Custom of the Country in Succession (2018-2023) as well. Particularly in the aspect of “look at these miserable wealthy people, let’s observe them in their misery and have a laugh here and there while also contemplating this particular horror of capitalism.”

What I’m looking forward to reading in 2024:

Here I am, reminding again, that due to my continued lack of effort, I remain not an influencer with a list that is not spon con.

If you see something on this list that you think you’ll like, you should preorder it or request that your library carries it.

The month in parentheses=when it releases, not necessarily when I plan to read it.

Amelie Hastie, Columbo: Make Me a Perfect Murder (February)

Tommy Orange, Wandering Stars (February)

Helen Oyeyemi, Parasol Against the Axe (March)

Lauren Oyler, No Judgment: Essays (March)

Mauro Javier Cárdenas, American Abductions (April)

Julia Phillips, Bear (June)

Ali Smith, Gliff (September)

What I’m looking forward to rereading in 2024:

Herman Melville, Moby-Dick: Or, the Whale (1851)

George Eliot, Middlemarch (1871-1872)3

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