Instead of a summer reading challenge, I think you should read one, really long book this summer.
Lonesome Dove came to me by providence. It was one of those books that I always saw people I admired loving, so it lingered in the back of my mind as something I could discover. But I had never read a Western, let alone one that is over 800 pages, so I kept putting it off because I wasn’t convinced it was the right fit for me. Then, one Thursday afternoon, I was talking to my 5pm client about books. “I’ve always thought I might read Lonesome Dove,” I told her. Then, later that evening, in a totally different conversation about different books with my 7pm group, my friend said,” There’s only one book I would give 5 stars to, it’s called Lonesome Dove.” I took it as a sign, and I had her bring me her copy the next week.
A 843 page book about Texas Rangers as they journey from the Mexican border to Montana on a quest of almost mythic magnitude isn’t one you’d find on any “summer reads” list. But I think it should be because it will take you all summer to read. It provides you with everything a reading challenge lacks: surrender, extreme attachment to the characters, the complete abandonment of productivity. I started Lonesome Dove in June and didn’t finish it until September. I savoured it, the opposite of devouring it. After I finished the last page, spellbound and sobbing, I felt reassured in my choice to view reading through the lens of genuine pleasure instead of output.
The best novels have a bespoke quality. They provide true catharsis in the Aristotelian sense, whereby our own feelings and anxieties can be directed outwards, and by identifying with the protagonist, our perception and awareness expand. Have you ever read a book or a chapter and just had to have a forceful exhale after? Those who Leave and Those who Stay comes to mind. There are so few things in life anymore that we can say we get to do out of pure joy and curiosity. The older I get, I realize that the more time I spend around people I love talking and doing real things, the more I gain new experiences out in the physical world, and the more I read solely out of my desire to feel something, the better my life becomes. I read books like Pachinko, White Teeth, The Neapolitan Novels, Lonesome Dove, and I feel grateful that reading can still be like this.
At Dufferin Terrace in Quebec City, sitting on a bench overlooking the St. Lawrence River, I read the last 100 pages of Lonesome Dove. Alone, across the country, I let silent tears come down my face just as the saxophonist began his instrumental rendition of The Sound of Silence. A rare, elusive, perfect moment. What began in June, sitting in my new backyard with the delphiniums blooming behind me, ended in September with maple leaves crunching beneath my feet. Blooming and dying, an entire season of life fit between each cover.