In which we sit on an unmoving plane and read a sad book.

Demon Copperhead by Barbara Kingsolver is a tremendous, but devastating novel. It’s the first I’ve read of Kingsolver, though now I’m pretty sure I’ll go back and read The Poisonwood Bible at the very least. I read the first ~250 pages or so in a fit of joy–Kingsolver inhabits the narrator in the most delightful manner, interspersing comedy and tragedy in an expert way.

Around page 300 I found myself on a plane that would spend the next 2.5 hours on the tarmac attempting to leave the Orlando airport. This was also the point at which (spoilers ahead) the narrator and main character fell deep into an opioid addiction. It’s not that this felt unrealistic, I mean clearly it is, but the first 250 pages were so fresh and so unconventional while also being true to Appalachia that I thought the next 200 fell deep into trope territory. It was still palatable–Kingsolver creates beautiful sentences and characters–but it felt hopeless and painful in a way the first half of the book didn’t. AND, my big caveat is that I read most of this sweating in a metal cylinder with a couple of hundred other humans. The last 50 pages or so seemed to lift out of this well of sadness, and I cannot tell if that’s because our plane was also finally taking off, 5 and a half hours behind schedule, or because the mood shifted.

Regardless, this is one of the best books I’ve read this year, and I’d recommend it to nearly anyone (not you, Daniel, for reasons I don’t yet understand).

Watching: We finished Ted Lasso, and while season 3 was mostly delightful, it was also messy and ultimately a little unsatisfying. We’re a few episodes into Silo, and really enjoying it.

Playing: Still playing Elden Ring and Tears of the Kingdom, but due to a bit of travel, not much of either.

Habit Review: who fucking knows. Back on schedule next week, hopefully.