Bookshelf Dysmorphia

with Angelina Hazzouri from Lunch on Friday

This summer, I started talking to strangers.

I asked the barista at Casetta in Williamsburg what she thought of the book she was reading as I walked in (All Fours by Miranda July — chaotic and horny. After reading it, I agree).

I talked to the girls sitting next to me at Time Again. One was a food content creator, so I got recruit someone new, and influential, to turn against Bernie’s (my friends are sick of hearing me complain about Instagram Italian restaurants).

These interactions were entirely inspired by Angelina’s Substack post, We Should All Talk to Strangers. And I’m so glad they happened.

I figure if I’m inclined to take Angelina’s social advice, then I should try to peek into her bookshelf, so I sent her a DM, and she agreed to write for us.

Please enjoy her list, and then immediately subscribe to Lunch on Friday!

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Bookshelf Dysmorphia

For as long as I have known how to read, I have loved to read. My dad often tells the story of when we were on a flight to Florida and I had already cranked through the book I brought, so he handed me The DaVinci Code to start reading. He couldn’t believe how fast I went through the first few chapters, and he even quizzed me on the material (which I fully retained). I was 10 years old. 

Books are what make a house a home. I often joke that I have bookshelf dysmorphia—a term that (I think) I came up with because in my head, I don’t have enough books, and I never will. Even though I have floor-to-ceiling bookshelves in my New York apartment that are stuffed to the brim with books, I don’t think I have that many. I also don’t shelve books I haven’t read—those go next to my bed—so basically what I’m telling you is that my home is covered in books. When I moved to my current apartment a few years ago, my mom said to me, “Why don’t you donate some of your books during the move?” Mother, that’s my library.

There are a few books that have changed my life. I hope some of them change yours.

Save Me the Plums: My Gourmet Memoir, by Ruth Reichl

A personal journey of a woman coming to terms with being in charge and making a mark, following a passion and holding onto her dreams.

I don’t know how to write about this without sounding like an insane person because this book meant everything to me when I read it this summer (in one sitting), and I really think it has changed the trajectory of my life. I cried at the first page. I squealed out loud at her descriptions of a chocolate cake. I read passages out loud to both of my parents because I wanted them to savor in the writing that I so fondly admire. To write like Ruth is a dream of mine. I felt very connected to her when I read this, and now I’ve been reading all of her other work. I LOVE YOU, RUTH REICHL!!!!!

Berlin, by Bea Setton

A wickedly insightful, darkly funny novel in which a young woman in the grip of an existential malaise moves to a new city for a fresh start.

I love an unlikeable main character. Bea Setton’s writing is delicious.

Please Kill Me: The Uncensored Oral History of Punk, by Gillian McCain and Legs McNeil

The definitive oral history of the most nihilistic of all pop movements. 

This is one of my favorite books of all time. I think I’m biased because I live in the Village which is partly where the 60s/70s NYC punk scene took place, but I truly think this is one of the best books about music history that exists. It’s an oral history, so it’s written in the format of interviews, which makes it very fun and engaging. Lots of name-dropping. Lots of gossip. Lots of drugs. A party on paper.

A Little Life, by Hanya Yanigihara 

Follows four college friends as they navigate careers, love, friendship, and life and death.

I went back and forth about whether to include this book because there is a lot of controversy around A Little Life. Its subject matter includes abuse, self-harm, and suicide. It’s very heavy. I will say, however, this is one of the most profound, most beautifully written books I’ve ever experienced, and its characters have stayed with me since I read it for the first time 5 years ago. I can’t walk past Lispenard Street without thinking of those characters—I think about Jude and Willem a lot. Harold, too. Any book that has that kind of effect on me is worth mentioning. I’ll bring myself to reread this soon.

On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous, by Ocean Vuong

The debut novel by Vietnamese American poet Ocean Vuong. An epistolary novel, it is written in the form of a letter from a Vietnamese American son to his illiterate mother.

Another book I think about a lot. Green apple Jolly Ranchers. Unforgettable.

My Name Is Barbra, by Barbra Streisand

The autobiography of American entertainer Barbra Streisand.

Let me begin by saying, I don’t usually listen to audiobooks. Ever. If you choose to read My Name Is Barbra, however, you must listen to the audiobook. It’s narrated by Barbra Streisand herself, and she reads it in such a colloquial way that it feels like you’re listening to a podcast from your best friend whom you’ve known since childhood. It feels familiar and warm. The audiobook also includes music from the different plays and films that Streisand references throughout, and it’s such a treat. I’ve been listening to this audiobook for approximately 10 months because as I said, I rarely listen to audiobooks, but I put this on in the morning when I’m getting ready for work and it feels like hanging out with the roommate I don’t have. A must listen!

I would also recommend anything and everything Patti Smith has ever written and I truly cannot and will not narrow it down to one book. Patti Smith, I love you.

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Thank you, Angelina!

I’ve already ordered Save Me the Plums, and will drop a review soon.

See you next week,

Liz