April 2025 | Reading, Watching, Living
Summer weather, French films, and a lot of non-fiction
LIVING
April is what I wish summer felt like: warm, even hot at times, but with low humidity and few bugs. Which is to say — a great month for being outdoors. Monday night burgers on the patio, weeknights at a brewery, Saturday mornings on the greenway with friends, the lengthening daylight persuading me to get out earlier and stay out later. I’m delighting in every day with beautiful weather before we tip into 100+ degree days.
READING
What Can a Body Do? by Sara Hendren — A year ago, I read an article by Sara about limiting virtues in spaces, and found it a fascinating twist on an idea that I hadn't considered. When I discovered she wrote a book on disability and design, I immediately added it to my library queue. Sara looks at how the built world and the body meet each other, and how disabled bodies show us the gaps. Each chapter considers a different facet of disability and design, but the book goes further than prosthetics and specialized furniture to ask what we are designing our spaces for, the implicit assumptions baked into architecture and public infrastructure, our relationship with technology, and how we can understand disability as something that shows us a wider range of what's possible and needed.
Back to Virtue by Peter Kreeft — A primer on virtue, with one half exploring the need for virtue and the second half looking at the seven deadly sins and their contrasting Beatitudes. It's not a bad book, but at times it’s dated and leans too heavily on sarcasm.
The Sabbath by Abraham Joshua Heschel — Brief, poetic meditation on the Sabbath and what makes it holy, from a Jewish perspective. Heschel sets apart time, not space, as holy; though we are physical beings, we can set aside our material attachments and let time be the primary ordering. Sabbath gives us a glimpse of the world to come, and we can put our hope in knowing that the future world will not operate like our current one.
The Revenge of Analog by David Sax — I skimmed this exploration of various industries and activities where analog has made a comeback: vinyl, bookstores, even tech companies using pen and paper. Sax uses the return to non-digital forms as a way to think through how humans work, play, and think, and considers whether the physical world has an advantage over digital (spoiler: it does).
Identity: The Demand for Dignity and the Politics of Resentment by Francis Fukuyama — This work of cultural history argues that modern identity politics have fractured society and the current clamoring for change is focused on feelings based on the self, not facts rooted in truth. The limits of such a short book is that the argument stays surface level, so I understand Fukuyama could not add nuance to every point, but I disagreed with many of his claims and conclusions (this goodreads review covers many of them). The aim was too ambitious; modern ideas of identity and how they manifest globally are too nuanced to cover in under 200 pages.
Status and Culture by W. David Marx — A fascinating look at how humans' innate desire for social status shapes society. I dislike books that purport to contain a Grand Theory of Everything, and this falls into that category (and much of this book’s contents are reminiscent of Girard's idea of mimesis, but Marx never mentions him). But, the later sections where he tackles the internet and modern concepts of wealth were interesting and explained many of the phenomena seen on social media.
Under the Greenwood Tree by Thomas Hardy — A church musician falls in love with the new schoolteacher and tries to win her over. Idyll rural setting, each section covering a season. Under 150 pages and no big reveals or scandals, a complete 180 from Desperate Remedies, his first published book, which I read last month.
Shuggie Bain by Douglas Stuart — Set in 1980s Glasgow, a young, queer boy and his alcoholic mother struggle to live with dignity in public housing. It's a bleak story, with little character growth; the two are just trying to survive, and I felt at times that the story tipped into poverty porn rather than fleshing out the characters. Even so, the writing is good and the characters are sympathetic enough to compel me to keep reading.
The Suicides by Antonio di Benedetto — NYRB’s February pick, translated from Spanish. A reporter investigates two deaths and considers why people commit suicide — a personal question for him, as his father committed suicide. The reporter is a curious character; detached from those around him and says what he thinks they want to hear, but has occasional moments of real emotional connection. Despite the story's serious topic, it’s quite funny.
WATCHING
Rushmore (Wes Anderson, USA, 1999) — Max, a teenage student at a private school, falls in love with a teacher and grows jealous after discovering her affair with his older friend. It’s always funny rewatching a movie you haven’t seen since high school. I remember finding Max obnoxious and absurd, but as an adult I feel sympathy for how he handles the emotional rollercoaster of high school — I couldn’t see it before because I was in it. It’s also been a while since I’ve watched an old Wes Anderson film, and it’s fascinating to see his signature style develop.
Pride and Prejudice (Joe Wright, UK/France/USA, 2005) — I’ve seen this countless times but jumped at the opportunity to see it at the theater for its 20th anniversary. Watching it on a small screen doesn’t do justice to how beautiful this film is. The lighting! The cinematography! The score! Watching it in a sold out theater and sharing the gasps and giggles with a hundred fellow fans was a delightful experience.
Sabotage (Alfred Hitchcock, UK, 1936) — A group of foreign agents plan to bomb London and a policeman tries to uncover their plot. Not one of Hitchcock’s most famous movies, but a good one all the same.
Notorious (Alfred Hitchcock, USA, 1946) — Ingrid Bergman plays the daughter of a convicted German spy who is asked by American agents to infiltrate a group of her father’s old friends (Cary Grant plays her handler). I watched this with a couple friends who are also going through Hitchcock’s films, and we had a great discussion afterward about his work and our favorite films.
Vivre sa vie (Jean-Luc Godard, France, 1962) — The story of a Parisian woman who falls into prostitution, told in 12 parts. Of the three Godard movies I’ve watched so far, this has been my favorite. It contains some of the same lingering, one-sided shots of characters having conversations, but the dialogue and story are tighter and better developed than the other two films. There’s a part where Nana, the lead, is talking to one of her friends who has also gone into prostitution after her husband abandons her, and Nana says, “We are responsible for our actions… we’re free.” Yet throughout the story, we see the limits of freedom. Nana tries to enact her own will on the world around her but it refuses to bend, with fatal consequences.
Cleo from 5 to 7 (Agnes Varda, France, 1962) — A French New Wave film about a singer who fears she has stomach cancer and is waiting for test results. The film plays out in real time, covering an hour and a half of story in an hour and a half of runtime. I enjoyed this one; I felt for Cleo as she fears the worst and tries coming to terms with potentially devastating news, all while still taking time for life’s small moments.
Le bonheur (Agnes Varda, France, 1965) — A young man is happily married with two kids, and decides to take a mistress. He justifies his actions by saying “happiness works by addition,” truly believing himself able to love both women without his life changing. To him, happiness is having whatever you want, the way you want it. And yet neither woman is happy with the arrangement. A haunting film, even as it is visually stunning and beautifully scored.
The Ballad of Wallis Island (James Griffiths, UK, 2025) — An eccentric man wins the lottery and uses the money to convince his favorite band to reunite and perform at his house on a remote island. After a rough week at work I just wanted a sweet, heartwarming indie, and I got exactly that. Sad wet man? Set on a British island? With actually good music? I’m fully in.
Spirited Away (Hayao Miyazaki, Japan/USA, 2001) — I went into Spirited Away completely blind, not looking up any of the details beforehand, and I was completely transfixed. Chihiro, a sullen young girl, and her parents wander into a magical world full of spirits and ruled by witches and are trapped there after dark. I grew up a Disney kid and filled in my Studio Ghibli knowledge as an adult, but I know I would’ve loved their films as a child. They have that weirdness to them — that playful, adventurous quality that makes you want to act out the story with your siblings.