by Trianne Harabedian

Lately, I’ve been in the mood for calm books. Not boring books, just to clarify. I want to be captivated, to wonder what is going to happen next, to be emotionally invested in characters and their lives. But I feel like my life has been chaotic enough without adding the stress and urgency of a page-turner. So if you’re ready to start the summer with a book that feels like a breath of fresh sea air, that keeps you interested while maintaining a slightly ominous sense of literary distance, that reminds you writing can be both simple and beautiful, then you need to read A Theory of Love by Margaret Bradham Thornton.

The story begins on the west coast of Mexico. Helen, a reserved British reporter, meets Christopher, a French-American lawyer. It’s her first time in Bermeja, interviewing people for work, while he often travels to his childhood vacation home. At first, Helen resists Christopher’s charm, almost believing he is too good to be true. But they exchange numbers, and by the time they both find themselves in London, it’s clear this flirtation is going to be a full-blown romance.

Even as their relationship begins, Christopher is preoccupied by his growing legal firm. He and his partner are enjoying unexpected success for lawyers so young and inexperienced. They are constantly busy, either working for extremely wealthy clients or attending their lavish social functions. Christopher promises Helen that this season won’t last forever, that he will have time for her soon, but Helen feels increasingly out of place in his world. She invests in her work instead and begins traveling around the world, writing interesting stories for newspapers. Through it all, they continue to go back and forth to Bermeja. They relive the tranquil magic of when they first met, then return to the social and business chaos of London.

As the novel progresses, you become increasingly sure that everything is about to fall apart. Instead of growing together, the couple is growing apart. Their socialite friends are too accommodating. And something shady is going on with the law firm. I was completely invested in Helen and Christopher’s story, fascinated by the elite culture they attempt to infiltrate and rooting for their relationship. But even as everything disintegrates, Thornton’s writing style maintains a sense of distance. So when things do crash, you aren’t completely devastated because, in a way, you always knew it was coming.

This book was a rare and lovely combination of engaging and relaxing. Even as I was pulled away from the book by life’s chaos, I could never stay away for too long. It was a little literary oasis, a beach off the west coast of Mexico where we fall in love and then fall apart.

by Trianne Harabedian

How is an immortal witch from Greek mythology like a modern writer in her late thirties? They both defy the usual expectations of women and make happiness for themselves!

I first heard about Circe, the novel by Madeline Miller, from Tayari Jones. The author of An American Marriage came to visit Lemuria back in February and she kept mentioning how she had read an advanced copy and loved it. So when it finally came out in April, I bought a copy immediately. She was right–the retold story of the witch from the Odyssey was completely captivating and did not disappoint. As the daughter of Helios, the sun god, Circe falls short when she does not exhibit powers of her own. Increasingly isolated in her father’s house, she begins to spend time in the realm of mortals, where she discovers her connection to nature and her calling as a witch. The novel follows her life, weaving in other characters and stories from Greek mythology. I’m a huge fan of retellings, especially of fairy tales and myths, so I devoured this like candy. I couldn’t predict the ending, which was fun because I can usually tell where stories are headed. But it made so much sense and wrapped up so nicely that I felt complete and satisfied.

In contrast, I picked up an advanced reader copy of Motherhood by Sheila Heti by accident. I thought it was a collection of funny, nonfiction stories about parenting. Instead, I found myself reading, and absolutely loving, a serious and sarcastic novel about what it means to be a woman and how that role is too often defined by the existence of children. The narrator, a writer in her late thirties, feels like her approaching fortieth birthday means she needs to decide once and for all whether she wants to have kids. She spends time with her friends and their children, trying to imagine herself in their place. She examines her marriage and her husband, a man who has never personally desired children. She also reflects on her relationship with her own mother. Through it all, the narrator has a set of ancient Chinese coins that she uses to answer questions, like tarot cards or a magic 8 ball. The writing style reminded me of Fire Sermon by Jamie Quatro, with its honest narrator and nonfiction-esque storytelling that makes you really think about your own life. It took me a few pages to get into, but I fell in love quickly. By the time it ended, I wanted it to keep going to I could read that book forever.

It’s been exactly a year since I graduated from college, and more and more I realize that no one’s life looks the same. Women especially are expected to do certain things by certain ages, to hit milestones and fulfill specific roles. But the fact is, everyone is different. We all deserve to be able to choose our own path, which is why I loved reading these two books in a row. They are incredibly different, but both carry the same message: Love yourself and do whatever you feel called to do.