Book Recommendation Wednesday!

I’m going to start presenting my favorite book of the week, for the non-illiteration “Book Recommendation Wednesday!”
I would also love to hear things that I should be reading! Some of my favorite authors, Calvino, Pamuk, etc. have been from suggestions, so please comment / message / etc.

This week I’ve chosen (*drum roll*), No One Belongs Here More Than You by Miranda July. When I first heard of this collection of short stories, I knew it was suppose to be odd. Yet even with that mindset, I was shocked by the book. By the first story I was confused, shocked, awed. July types your deepest secrets, the off-putting fantasies you dream about and realities that you could never see on television. The experience of reading it is unique. Cover-to-cover, you will probably be done in one sitting.

Admittedly, this is not a novel for everyone. The manner of writing is uncomfortable, voiceless yet very distinct. For those readings, I’ve chosen Euphoria, a novel that needs some time to get into, unlike No One Belongs Here More Than You, but once King hits her stride the novel is truly astounding.


No one belongs here more than you, the great and ridiculous

Then, suddenly, I saw him. Will. In the dream I recognized he was a celebrity, but I didn’t know which one. I felt very embarrassed because I knew he was used to being around cute young girls and he had probably never seen anyone who looked like me before. But gradually I realized he had lifted up the back of my skirt and was nuzzling his face between my buns. He was doing this because he loved me. It was a kind of loving I had never known was possible. And then I woke up.

In an ideal world, we would have been orphans. We felt like orphans and we felt deserving of the pity that orphans get, but embarrassingly enough, we had parents. I even had two. They would never let me go,..

Finally, the Portland Weekly accepted [our ad]; it no longer sounded like blatant prostitution, and yet, to the right reader, it could have meant nothing else. We were targeting wealthy women who loved women. Did such a thing exist? We would also accept a woman of average means who had saved up her money.

My heart fell because I hadn’t planned anything for my future beyond this meeting. I had written every day for a year with his business card taped to my computer, and now I was done and he had said to call him when I was done and I had, I had called, and now the ball was in his court. It was his job to do with me what he would. What would he do? What do the men do with the very talented young women who have finished writing their books? Would he kiss me? Would he invite me to be his daughter or wife or babysitter?

When she saw my messy desk, she said she was the same way, and there was no dust on the TV, and I was easy to love. People just need a little help because they are so used to not loving. It’s like scoring the clay to make another place of clay stick to it.

We don’t have intercourse anymore. I’m not complaining, it’s my own fault. I lie there beside him and try to send signals to my vagina, but it’s like trying to get cable channels on a TV that doesn’t have cable. My mind requests pee. It thinks its whole job in life is to pee.

And our very few intimacies were simply discontinued. Where did they go, those things we did? Were they recycled? Did some new couple in China do them? Were a Swedish man and woman foot to foot at this very moment?

Embrace Your Inner Weirdo: “The First Bad Man” by Miranda July

“I’m not really going to beat around the bush with this one: Miranda July is weird as hell”

Sounds about right! Next I will be diving into the book of short stories, No One Belongs Here More Than You.


I’m not really going to beat around the bush with this one: Miranda July is weird as hell.

I mean:

miranda july

But it’s exactly why I love her. Somehow she writes about uncomfortable situations involving totally bizarre, lonely characters — and it eventually becomes 100 percent relatable on a very deep, emotional level. And I’m surprised every time: She is not only weird as hell, she is funny as hell. Through her writings, interactive art projects and films, she helps us discover and fully embrace our own hidden eccentricities.

It’s pretty cathartic.

The First Bad Man is July’s first novel. Back in 2008, I devoured her book of short stories, No One Belongs Here More Than You. The basic theme throughout the book from what I can remember: Lost souls hungry for connection. Here is my favorite excerpt from the story “The Shared Patio.”

If you are sad, ask yourself why…

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