Let Me Think About It

I love learning.

I know, you're all so surprised. NO, you say, feigning wide eyes. You, the woman who will research alternate-side-of-the-street parking regulations for twenty minutes for a single sentence you then cut? You like learning things?

Friends, I do.

I love a Wikipedia trawl! I will absolutely open six tabs of archived journalism and read them all. My favorite daily website is The Spinoff, which incidentally could use your support for some of the best writing in Aotearoa New Zealand.

However, when it comes to sitting down/lying on my bed in an awkward position to Do Some Reading, I prefer fiction. I yearn for narrative. When I do read non-fiction, it's usually memoir or history, which conveniently arranges itself or is arranged into some sort of story. This is often to the detriment of absolute truth, but very satisfying for my brain.

I am currently reading Less, by Patrick Grant, everybody's imaginary sewing boyfriend. The book is not only an accessible critique of late-stage capitalism and overconsumption, but a lovely memoir of Patrick enjoying his purposeful life with his much-repaired jumpers and a flask of tea.

Reading the book has also made me swear, with noble intention, to make serious inroads on my sewing stash before I buy any new fabric. This is a vow I make at least four times a year, with some limited efficacy, but this time, I swear, I'll make Patrick proud.

The only other non-fiction book I read with my eyes cover-to-cover this year was a biography of Anne of Austria, Queen of France and Navarre, wife to Louis XIII, Queen Regent for her son Louis XIV, and currently probably best known for being a damsel-in-distress in endless adaptations of The Three Musketeers. (She wasn't Austrian.)

I had to get that bio via Interlibrary Loan, which is probably the only reason I actually read it and not the six other non-fiction books I issued at the same time. Every now and then I think I'll do a big non-fiction binge, but this is like when I promise myself that this year, I'll learn how to make pants. It's just not going to happen.

Non-fiction eyes reading? No, thank you!

But non-fiction ears reading? Yes, please! Ideally, in half-hour chunks as I pass out every night.

Are you having a tough week? Holiday commotion getting you down?

Want to read some free smut?

Then I would recommend heading to SMUTTY FREEBIES, a promo for free books at various levels of heat. Some are very spicy, and my own Penelope Pops the Question (which is not as such spicy, but is the prequel to the definitely spicy Olympus Inc. series) is probably the mildest of the lot. Full steam(y) ahead!

Non-fiction audiobooks are my secret weapon for sleep.

I am not a good sleeper. The transition is difficult, probably because my brain seeks activity always. Whenever the yoga teacher is like, yay, savasana meditation time, I start mentally writing dialogue. To me, "Let's lie here and think of nothing!" sounds not only unpleasant, but impossible.

So I listen to non-fiction audiobooks, which gently ease me from "oh, how interesting" to "I seem to be dreaming" without any inconvenient thoughts about my to-do list or the life cycle of frogs, which I had better look up right now. (I mean, okay, here, and also, have you guys heard of cutaneous respiration, because that is some wild shit.) With non-fiction, I don't have to worry that I'm missing out on important plot points, and yet if I pick the right book, I am interested enough that I look forward to listening as I drift off.

This year I have listened to:

  • Silk: A History in Three Metamorphoses, by Aarathi Prasad.
  • A Short History of the World According to Sheep, by Sally Coulthard.
  • Fabric: The Hidden History of the Material World, by Victoria Findlay.
  • Otherlands, by Thomas Halliday.
  • The Roman Empire and the Silk Routes, by Raoul McLaughlin.
  • Ancestors, by Alice Roberts.
  • Heart of Europe, by Peter H. Wilson.
  • The Habsburg Empire, by Pieter M. Judson.
  • The Dark Queens, by Shelley Puhak.
  • Weavers, Scribes and Kings: A New History of the Ancient Near East, by Amanda H. Podany.
  • Frida, by Hayden Herrera.
  • The Ottomans, by Marc David Baer.
  • The Story of Art Without Men, by Katy Hessel.
  • Catherine the Great, by Robert K. Massie.

And in addition to these books, I listened to a bunch of the Great Courses series of lectures, including:

  • An Economic History of the World since 1400, by Donald J. Harreld
  • Early Humans: Ice, Stone, and Survival, by Suzanna Pilaar Birch.
  • Medieval Myths and Mysteries, by Dorsey Armstrong.
  • Between the Rivers: the Ancient History of Ancient Mesopotamia, by Alexis Q. Castor.

You will note some trends! I am always a nerd for ancient history, but this year I've listened to a lot of medieval and reformation European stuff, and added some art history to my usual interest in textiles. Crucially, if it's a general history survey, I need to stop listening before it gets post-WWI – I'm trying to get to sleep, and the closer we get to the Now Times, the harder it is to rest.

Do I retain all of this? God, no. I learn the occasional thing, and the rest goes into the half-conscious soup of vague notions at the back of my brain, which sometimes bubbles up a chunk of knowledge, but mostly just dissolves. What I largely get from this kind of reading is a vibe - the idea that humans are social animals, that we are creative and persistent and inventive, that we love stories, that we struggle over ideas, that we have a complicated relationship with the natural world, that we are sometimes cruel and ridiculous, and sometimes generous and glorious.

The waking world and its 24-hour news cycle discourages this kind of perspective. When I read the news, I feel bombarded by everything terrible (or good!) happening right now. I don't mean that being well-informed is bad. It's a good idea to know what's going on! But it's not very restful.

What soothes my fevered brain is a reminder that we are all history in waiting.

In a lifetime of learning, that might be the most important thing I've learned.

That Healey Girl is the newsletter of Karen (or Kate) Healey, a romance and speculative fiction author who lives in Ōtautahi New Zealand and shakes plots loose by wandering along the river. Please feel free to forward this newsletter to anyone you think might like it!