3 seasonal books for November
Full of fall & wet with winter
I should clarify: by “seasonal,” I don’t mean “autumnal.” These books feel like fall, yes, but their pages also pass into winter, spring, and summer.
Short or chunky, fiction or non - they paint nature’s change so vividly you can taste it.
So here you are, in no particular order:
The Wind in the Willows by Kenneth Grahame
(Fiction; 1908)
Quirky-cozy, life-on-the-river-and-into-the-woods type of book. The story begins with our friend the Mole abandoning his spring cleaning, but be prepared for falling snow and sun-drenched boat rides too.
A perfect mix of comfort and adventure, and one of the wildest & grandest children’s books I’ve ever read. (Spoiler alert: the animals occasionally use pistols.)
***[NOTE - Don’t accidentally get an abridged version!]
“Never had they noticed the roses so vivid, the willow-herb so riotous, the meadow-sweet so odorous and pervading.”
—from Chapter 7, “The Piper at the Gates of Dawn”
Observations of an Accidental Farmer—and a Mindful Reader by Harry Kavros
(Non-fiction; 2024)
This book was exactly right for me. A New York literature professor moves to North Carolina and learns to love the land. True to title, the book consists of short essays as Harry clears branches, raises guinea hens, and throws his back out lifting boulders — all while musing on the writings of Olmsted, Darwin, and Thoreau (!).
I read it on a trip to Michigan’s cold weather. Contemplative bliss. Pairs well with black coffee.
“And so, I tried to make the landscape wondrous and the land productive.”
—from the essay “Might He Become a Gentleman Farmer?”
Moby-Dick; or, The Whale by Herman Melville
(Fiction; 1851)
This is a chunker, and you may very fairly find it’s not for you. But let me recommend to you the first six chapters, even on their own, for their sheer force of prose.
You’ll feel the streets of New Bedford — you’ll taste the hot clam chowder.1 And should you choose to push through the following 680 pages, you’ll be treated to raging storms, boiling oil, and cold, cold nights aboard the Pequod.
“For the height of this sort of deliciousness is to have nothing but the blanket between you and your snugness and the cold of the outer air. Then there you lie like the one warm spark in the heart of an arctic crystal.”
—from Chapter 11, “Nightgown”
That’s it! I’ve got more that are begging to be recommended…but you can only read so many books at once. I’ll save them for later.
Reply to this email & say hey if you end up trying any of these out. I’d love to hear from you.
-Tim
P.S. If you think a friend might enjoy these recommendations, feel free to forward this to them!
P.P.S. Here’s a bonus poem.
AMERICAN PESTO
I am basil
Parmesan she
Pine nuts will our children be
Pestle days and mortar nights
From many, one;
From crushing, life.P.P.P.S. I made a short video on one favorite portion of Moby-Dick; you can watch it here.
This chapter was so vivid for me that I learned to make clam chowder myself. I had my doubts, but — delicious.