Volume 2, No. 36: Get Out of Your Own Umwelt! + Spiced Lamb Flatbreads

Greetings, book-eaters! This past weekend I started cataloging my books. I, too, am surprised that I haven’t already undertaken this project. I have a list of every book I’ve read since I was twelve, and my yearly reading spreadsheets are epic, but for some reason, tracking the books I actually own has never occurred to me. Thankfully, I’m deep in it now, and the whole project is way more fun and illuminating than I even imagined!

I’m using Library Thing, which I love. I can easily scan barcodes on my phone to enter books into the catalog, and keep track of whatever information I want, including where and when I got the book, whether or not I’ve read it, etc. I’m going through my books one shelf at a time. I started with my shelf of poetry, plays, and epics, and decided to get rid of about 80 percent of them! I’ve never gone through my books so slowly and methodically. At the end of this process, every book I own is going to have meaning: books I badly want to read, books I love, books that are part of my personal archive. It’s so satisfying.

I’m going to be donating lots of books to various Little Free Libraries around town, but I’m also saving a stack for future newsletter giveaways! Speaking of, congrats to Cassie, who won last week’s giveaway of Ghost Town.

Onto this week’s books. This is a theme I’ve had in my back pocket for a while, but it came into sharp focus after I finished Ed Yong’s spectacular book An Immense World a few days ago. Umwelt (often translated as ‘self-centered world’) is an idea coined by German biologist Jakob von Uexküll. It describes the specific world in which a creature lives, as defined by its sensory experiences. I share a house with my dog Nessa, but because our sensory perceptions are so different, we live in different umwelten. Her umwelt, steeped in scent, is one I’ll never fully comprehend. I can try (and I do), but, as Yong so beautifully explores in his book, the umwelten of dogs and spiders and electric fish and elephants and birds are so different from our own that it takes incredible feats of imagination to understand them.

I didn’t know what an umwelt was when I scribbled ‘The Wideness of the World’ into my brainstorming spreadsheet. But the desire to peer into other umwelten—to climb outside of my own and imagine utterly different ways of being—was exactly what I was getting at. These three books, for me, explore the idea of the umwelt as it relates to science, language, human experience, and geography. They also represent how books, at their best, can vault us out of our own umwelten—at least a little bit.

The Books

Backlist: Cobalt Blue by Sachin Kundalkar, tr. from the Marathi by Jerry Pinto (Fiction, 2016)

This short, beautiful novel is translated from the Marathi, a language I knew nothing about before reading this book. I suppose this is not exactly unusual, considering there are 22 officially recognized languages in India and hundreds of non-officially recognized ones. Marathi, however, is one of the most widely spoken Indian languages, so my ignorance partly stems from western bias and not paying attention.

I read this book while I was listening to An Immense World, and so I was thinking about umwelt. It struck me that translation, in essence, is an attempt to create doorways between different umwelten. I’ll never know what it feels like to read this book in Marathi. I always feel a bit of wistfulness when I read books in translation, but I also feel a sense of profound wonder. How magical, simply, that humans think and speak in such a bright tangle of languages, and how wonderful that there are people whose work it is to move words between those languages. The act of translating, I think, is a celebration and recognition of the umwelten that humans inhabit.

Cobalt Blue is about a brother and sister who fall in love with the same man, an art student who rents a room in their family’s house. In the first section, Tanay, the brother, addresses the man directly using the second person. He’s just left with Tanay’s sister, Anuja, and Tanay is devastated. The narrative is messy and nonlinear, a jumble of memory and grief that moves erratically around in time without discernible pattern. Tanay often repeats phrases and sentences, circling back to events again and again. I often find second person narratives to be powerful but unrealistic: who actually writes or talks directly to someone who isn’t there in this way? But Tanay’s narration feels absolutely truthful. I can imagine him sitting alone in the upstairs room where he fell in love with the man, writing furiously, or talking out loud, begging the empty air to make his grief make sense. It’s so elegant and so simple, full of tenderness and longing and that blurry, dreamlike haziness of loss.

The second section is told in journal entries. Six months after running away with the man, Anuja comes back alone, and falls into a deep depression. Her parents send her to see a therapist, who encourages her to start a journal, which she does. She recounts what happened to her during the time the man lived with them, and we get to see all the spaces that Tanay’s narrative left empty. Her style is different from Tanay’s: she’s hurt, and grieving, and trying to untangle what happened, but she’s also furious, and it’s her anger that eventually propels her forward in her life.

The heartbreak at the center of this novel is that these two stories unfold in parallel, and yet Anuja and Tanay don’t talk to each other. They are each in their own world with the man, and even after the man leaves, they never find their way back to each other. It was painful to watch them going about their lives, both grieving the loss of a person and the idea of a person, an imagined future, the vision they each had of themselves—and not be able to help each other through it. It’s a book about what isn’t said, what can’t be said, about silences that linger and grow, and how those silences become catalysts, sending Tanay, Anuja, and the man in wildly different directions. It’s about what love hides and what it reveals, about what it’s possible to know about someone else and what it’s possible to pretend you know. I was absolutely dazzled. I read it in one sitting.

Frontlist #1: An Immense World by Ed Yong (Nonfiction)

I love listening to nonfiction on audio, but it’s rare for a nonfiction book like this to have me so hooked I look for every excuse I can find to keep listening. This past weekend I lingered over the puzzle, took a long walk, tended to my garden, cleaned my porch, did some extra baking, and swept my whole house…all because I didn’t want to stop listening to this book.

It’s about animal senses. Yong covers all the familiar senses—sight, sound, touch, taste, and smell—exploring how dozens of animals employ them in ways utterly unlike how we, as humans, experience them. He goes into a lot of depth, too. There’s not just a chapter on sight, but a chapter on light and on color. He doesn’t just write about touch, but about pain, heat, air and water currents, and vibrations. And he delves into the less familiar senses, with chapters on echoes, electric fields, and magnetic fields. It’s absolutely chock full of fascinating science, but I’m not going to tell you about the science. I learned a ton, of course—both about the amazing, weird, and specific abilities and adaptions of animals—and also about the way that chemicals and light and sound waves and the earth’s magnetic field work. Yong is such a good science writer, and he explains concepts and experiments carefully, thoroughly, and accessibly.

So I could tell you about electric eels and the tetrachromatic vision of birds, about leaf hoppers and jumping spiders and the lateral line of fishes. I did say this is a book about animal senses. Really, though, it’s a book about wonder. I read it in a constant state of amazement. The world is, indeed, immense. All around us, flies and bees and songbirds and reptiles and thousands of other creatures are smelling and touching and hearing and sensing in ways I’ve never even considered before. I took my dog for a walk, listening to this book, unable to stop watching her sniff, thinking about her umwelt, and the umwelt of the crows flying above me, and of all the hidden insects living in the pastures along the road. I felt dizzy with it, unsteady on my feet, so overwhelmed by the vastness around me, rendered speechless by the complexity of cells.

Yong’s passion and excitement and delight is part of what makes him such a good writer, and part of what infuses the book with so much wonder. He does write about humans—we are creatures, too, after all—but understanding humans is not his goal. It’s obvious that he’s not delving into the animal world to better understand our world. Yes, this book made me think about my senses, my umwelt, in new ways. But that’s a side affect. Yong writes about animals for their own sake. He’s curious about them because they exist. They do not exist to teach us about ourselves. Science, obviously, leads to ideas and innovations that save and improve lives. But Yong reminds us that discovery is its own reward, that looking at something closely just to look is a worthy endeavor. It is okay to slow down and marvel. To dive deep and let ourselves be awed. To feel the full-body shiver of wonderment that comes with the knowledge that this planet, let alone the universe, is full of more mysteries than we’ll ever be able to solve.

Frontlist #2: The Holiday Trap by Roan Parrish (Romance)

Let’s reign it in a little. This novel is a hilarious, joyful, and surprisingly moving double romcom about two queers who swap houses and each fall in love with their new town, and someone in that new town.

Greta lives on a tiny island in Maine. She’s lived there all her life, she’s pretty tired of being the only lesbian around (basically) and her family is…a lot. She has a bunch of sisters and an overprotective mom and they’re very loving but they’re all up in each other’s business, and not in a good way, in a “wait, what’s a boundary?” way.

Truman is an accountant and bullet journal aficionado living in New Orleans, where he’s been since college, because, well…a boyfriend asked him to stay once, and he did, because it’s a whole lot easier to just do what other people want instead of, you know, figuring out what he actually wants and then telling someone about it. Now he’s reeling because his latest boyfriend had a whole secret life—a partner and a kid—that Truman knew nothing about. He’s desperate to get out of the city.

So their mutual friend suggests they swap houses for the holidays. Greta arrives in New Orleans and promptly falls in love with everything about it: the weather, the music, the plants, the people. She strikes up a conversation with a woman she meets on the street, Carys, and they have an epic date, and soon Greta is hanging out with Carys’s queer housemates and attending the local garden club with her delightful elderly neighbor and having super hot lesbian sex.

Truman is surprised to discover how much he likes the pace of life in small town Maine. He falls for the local florist, Ash, and dives headlong into the project of helping Ash save his failing business. Truman loves a project, and before he knows it he’s redesigning Ash’s website and helping him take care of his mother, who has dementia, and walking down Main Street like he belongs there and maybe, even…admitting what he wants and needs!

In other words: Greta and Truman both get out of their own umwelts and discover how much is possible when they approach their lives in new ways. I love that Truman finds exactly what he’s looking for in a tiny rural town. His two best friends are people he met online and mostly texts with. He wants a partner to settle down with. The fact that Owl Island isn’t bursting with queers doesn’t bother him. Greta, on the other hand, craves queer community. She’s not just lonely for romance; she wants friendships and housemates and queer dance parties. Sure, she falls in love with Carys, but it’s the life she builds for herself in New Orleans that keeps her there.

It’s a romance. It’s fun. There’s angst and a big emotional climax and quite a lot about communication and boundaries. Carys and Greta basically discuss their attachment styles and the ways their families and histories have shaped how they interact with each other, and Greta has this big aha moment and—it’s spot on. It’s mostly lighthearted, you know it’s all going to end well, the setup is fairytale-esque. But for all that, it’s shockingly realistic at times. It’s about breaking patterns and the real, hard work it takes to see—the world, yourself, the people you love—in new ways.

The Bake

The Great British Bake Off comes back this week and I am ready. I always get more excited about baking in the fall, and Bake Off adds another layer of inspiration. I can’t watch the show without baking something first—I get too hungry! I made these lamb flatbreads over the weekend to get myself in the baking mood, and now I’m eager for even more sweet and savory fall baking projects!

Spiced Lamb Flatbreads

This recipe makes eight flatbreads. The dough is from Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall’s fabulous River Cottage Veg.

Ingredients

For the dough:

• 250 grams (2 cups) all-purpose flour

• 250 grams (2 cups) whole wheat bread flour (feel free to use all-purpose bread flour instead)

• 1 1/2 tsp salt

• 1 tsp yeast (the recipe calls for instant, I’ve used active dry countless times and it always works)

• 1 Tbs olive oil

• 1 1/3 cups (325 ml) warm water

For the filling:

• 1 small onion, minced

• 1 pound ground lamb

• 1/2 tsp Aleppo pepper

• 1 tsp sumac

• 1 tsp sesame seeds

• 1 tsp oregano

• 1 tsp salt

• 4 ounces goat cheese, crumbled

Make the dough: In a large bowl, combine the flours, salt, yeast, olive oil, and warm water. Stir with a wooden spoon until a shaggy dough begins to form. Dump onto a lightly floured counter until the dough becomes smooth and elastic, 5-10 minutes. It’s a sticky dough; don’t worry about it, and try to avoid adding extra flour if you can. Place the dough in an oiled bowl, cover, and let rise until doubled in size, about two hours.

Make the filling: Heat some olive oil in a pan and sauté on medium heat until it softens, about 10 minutes. Add the ground lamb and continue sautéing, stirring frequently, until the lamb is just cooked. Transfer the lamb mixture to a bowl and add the spices, salt, and goat cheese. Mix well. Set aside and let cool to room temperature.

Assemble and fry the flatbreads: Punch down the dough and cut it into eight pieces. Working with one piece at a time, roll the dough into a small, thin rectangle, roughly 6x4 inches, though you don’t have to be exact. Place a heaping spoonful of filling on the dough, and spread it around with the back of the spoon. Working from the long side, roll the dough up into a tight rope. Next, roll up the rope into a small spiral. Set aside. Repeat with the remaining dough and filling.

Once you’ve coiled all the flatbreads, coat the bottom of a skillet with oil (high heat oil like sunflower or safflower works well). The oil should be hot and sizzling; use medium high heat. One at a time, gently roll the coils to flatten them into ovals, 6-8 inches wide. It’s okay if the dough breaks and some filling spills out, but be gentle. Fry the flatbreads for 3-4 minutes on each side, until puffed and golden. I am told it’s possible to fry flatbreads without charring them, though I’ve never achieved it. Maybe you will! You can keep them warm in a 250 degree oven. They’re marvelous reheated in a toaster the next day.

The Bowl and The Beat

The Bowl: My Go-To Kale Salad

I’m fairly sure I’ve already shared this non-recipe, or a similar one. But if I can’t remember it, you probably can’t either. And it’s the best and easiest thing I made last week, so here we are.

I like dino kale the best for this, but use whatever you want. I start by de-stemming a bunch of kale and chopping it finely. Toss it in a big bowl and massage it a bit to soften it, if you want. Cut a few slices of thick bread into cubes, toss them with olive oil, salt, and pepper, and broil for 1-2 minutes, until golden and crispy. Add the bread to the bowl, along with a lot of Parmesan. Use more than you think you need! For the dressing: press 1-2 garlic cloves into a small jar. Add a tablespoon of mustard, a pinch of salt, a splash of sherry vinegar, and a few glugs of olive oil. Mix well and adjust to taste. Pour over the salad and toss to coat. Finish with a few grinds of pepper. Other things I sometimes add: sliced hardboiled eggs, smoked salmon or tuna, sun dried tomatoes, goat cheese, pine nuts.

The Beat: Picking My Next Listen

I always have an audiobook going. When I finish one, I scroll through my seven audiobook apps, hunting for my next listen. I have hundreds of books saved, and I’m always overwhelmed at the moment of decision, because I want to listen to all of them, right now. Sometimes I listen to the first few minutes of a bunch of different books. Sometimes I pick one based on its length, or the narrator. Every so often, I’m in the mood for a certain kind of book which makes picking one a little easier. Mostly, though, it’s an alchemic process I don’t truly understand. I can usually narrow it down to a few options, and then it’s just scrolling around until something clicks, my thumb lingering over a title, and I just know. Today I’m choosing between All Down Darkness Wide by Seán Hewitt, Man o’ War by Cory McCarthy, and Silence by Jane Brox.

The Bookshelf

A Picture

Here’s a scene from my book cataloging project—my Library Thing catalog! I love the simplicity of the interface. Currently I’m tracking where and when I acquired each book I own, and my data-and-spreadsheet-loving self is in heaven.

Around the Internet

My review of Sacrificio by Ernesto Mestre-Reed is up on BookPage. So is my review of the breathtaking Ducks by Kate Beaton, as well as my interview with Beaton about the book. On Book Riot, I wrote about some of the incredible poets I’ve discovered thanks to The Sealey Challenge, and about how much I hate it when the words “I wanted” appear in book reviews.

Now Out

Hurray! No Country For Eight-Spot Butterflies by Julian Aguon is now out! And so is Ducks by Kate Beaton, which is easily one of my favorite books of the year.

Bonus Recs to Expand Your Umwelt

In a sense, all the best books are about expanding umwelten. Here are a few brilliant ones I’ve read this year: In Sensorium by Tanaïs, Ghost Of by Diana Khoi Nguyen, and The Way She Feels by Courtney Cook. And a few from years past that dive into non-human umwelten: Winter World by Bernd Heinrich and The Where, The Why, and the How by Matt Lamothe, Julia Rothman, and Jenny Volvovski. This last one is a fascinating book in which artists illustrate various scientific mysteries, and scientists write essays explaining them. It’s so inventive.

The Boost

• I’ve been following Project 562 for a while—Matika Wilbur has been traveling across North America photographing and interviewing Indigenous people. Her posts always make me slow down for a moment (a rare and beautiful thing on social media). Now she has a book coming out! Project 562: Changing the Way We See Native America is coming out next April, and it looks absolutely stunning.

• I can now go a few days without rewatching an episode of A League of Their Own! But I do periodically browse through this beauty—there’s some nonsense mixed in, but it’s mostly gorgeous.

• My friend Mary Bergman wrote a beautiful piece for Lit Hub about the fantasies and realities of Nantucket, the island where I used to live.

As always, a little bit of beauty to send you on your way: These cooler mornings have me taking long walks to the top of the hill again, and it’s a gift.

Catch you next week, bookish friends!