Refused to decide, so I'm doing it all
So, we have officially reached that time of the year – post lockdowns and pandemic restrictions – where life gets so busy and exhausting that even the tradition of meeting once a month to discuss a book of essays has become too difficult to maintain. All this is to say that Marie, from Marie Reads Books, and I both flew relatively solo this month. We are considering doing a retrospective conversation about the essays read for September, but time is a mess. We do have a wedding in the not to distant future, though, so maybe we’ll be able to work some idea book talk into the travelling affair. For the moment, however, Marie’s take is here.
I hope we do, because I actually have quite a bit to say about this lot. And I think Mr Green has swung back around in terms of the kind of writing we went into this work expecting to see from him. The essays were insightful, thought-provoking and moving. They were:
This might come as a surprise to Marie, but I’ve actually never played this game. I absolutely love Super Mario Brothers, but never had any interest in Super Mario Kart. To be honest, despite not minding this essay, I still don’t feel a need to try the game, but I do very much like the virtual attempt at equality that it seemingly represents. I also appreciated Green’s approach in laying it out for the reader. The essay was focused, and simple and effective.
Oh my god. There are multiple areas in the world in which there are plains upon plains of salt. I had no idea. Which probably speaks more to my immense ignorance of interesting geological features presented by the planet, but, like, did you know?
This essay was a bit more sporadic again, a little hither, tither and yon, but I liked it. It seemed to work. I found little bits of dialogue and phrasing that seemed to lend insight to my own writing and the phenomenally terrible dialogue I’m currently known for – in very small circles. I enjoyed learning about the salt world I was completely oblivious to and believe there are several photos in the world that I had misunderstood up until reading this essay.

Ok, this essay was a bit of a journey for me, so hold tight. First of all, I had no idea that the essays we were reading were based on episodes from a podcast John Green started more than two years before. I also had no idea, that the audio book to the book we’re reading has more chapters than the printed copy and I’m not sure how I feel about that. I don’t know why it came up during the reading of this, except to say I did a lot of Googling. Which is how I found the YouTube clip of John Green talking about circle drawing and trying to draw 170,000 little circles in an attempt to try and fathom that number. It’s poignant and striking and devastating to know how far beyond that number this pandemic took us. (It represented the 170,000 lives lost to the pandemic at that time, I believe.)
I do believe my extra research added to the experience of this essay and why it’s still lingering in my mind despite our having moved on the next batch. I really liked and appreciated the themes in this one. They felt relevant and true. I also think this is an essay where Green managed what Marie and I spoke about, in that he wasn’t trying too hard to be profound, he just kinda was because he has the talent and the skill to be so when he’s not afraid of what it might reveal – gosh, a lot of assumptions about the author here, and also just how I’ve been experiencing his writing.

I have a favourite paragraph for this one, though it is a little spoilery, so, you know, don’t read it if that’s something you hate.
I know we’ve left scars everywhere, and that our obsessive desire to make and have and do and go and get—six of the seven most common verbs in English—may ultimately steal away our ability to be, the most common verb in English. Even though we know that none of our marks will last, that time is coming not just for all of us but for all we make, we can’t stop scribbling, can’t stop seeking relief wherever we can find it.
Hiroyuki Doi’s Circle Drawings – John Green
I think this one speaks to me on the level it does because one of the main methods I use to numb – my anxiety or grief or trauma – is perpetual business. I fill every minute of every day with something. It’s exhausting, but I’ve convinced myself it’s what survival looks like. Turns out coping can be a vice within itself.
Anyway, as I said, it was a journey, which I’ll continue to untangle.
This one’s lovely. And I would love to tell you more about what I thought about it, but for the life of me I cannot decipher my scribbles. What in all that is holy is ‘adcet’? Alcet? Aalcer? We are never ‘advit’? Nope.
From size to experience, this essay was great. I do have a particular fondness for disease learning, and the notion that viruses just keep on going for bloody ever is beyond fascinating. I also like when my understanding of a thing is pushed in a different direction, and I felt this essay did that.
Weirdly, this essay also made me think about shame, and the need to wrap words around shame. And while we’re busy talking our way out of shame, it is striking that we don’t have words to fully immerse ourselves in the pain of others. Our very human interaction with viruses is intense. It has the ability to warp time, distort our interpretation of our place in this world, and mess with our mental wellbeing in a way that is distinctly cruel. I appreciated Green’s ability to bring home the shared feeling of isolation within illness and pain.
All in all (wrapping this up quick smart because it’s insanely long) I hope Marie enjoyed these essays as much as I did and I look forward to discussing them further. Likely en route to that wedding.
I give this batch four stars and, quietly, wish they were all like this.
All of the things and places:
@serialhobbiest
@serial_readings
@mariereads_books
Marie’s YouTube Channel