The Contented Naturalist

My vacation booklist

There’s a certain kind of book I really like to read on Monhegan Island family vacations. I like them other times as well, but I specifically gravitate toward this when I’m here. We always make a trip to the island library as soon as we arrive, to pick out books to read during our vacations. Whether it’s while lounging in the sun, or inside while a storm rages outside, or as I’m winding down at the end of the day. And sometimes, if I have disagreements with family members or something else is disturbing me, it’s nice to have an excellent book to lose myself in.

So far the books in my particular island group include:

Magic & reality

These books all mix magic and real-world settings or actual folklore. Thistlefoot, for example, takes the story of Baba Yaga and her sentient chicken-footed house, and spins a mystical tale that merges Eastern European folklore, present-day USA, and siblings healing from multi-generational trauma. The Scholomance series describes a school where students learn magic, mixed with typical coming-of-age tropes, and what happens when the person or thing you trusted most tries to destroy you. It feels very much like a rich fairytale, with amazing worldbuilding. The Library of the Unwritten describes the adventures of Claire, librarian of a very unusual collection: unwritten books. In the story’s world, all books that have not yet been written, or never will be, reside in this section of Hell. Some books might still be written, if their authors can heal from what’s blocking them for example. Others never will be since their authors are long dead. They exist in potential– they could have been written.

It’s hard to explain what else links these stories for me, other than a general gist. The particular feel of the just barely outside of the real world– the protagonists aren’t kings or queens or magical beings like fairies. They are relatively ordinary people, or at least they think they are. Yet they’re existing in this magical world. I think all these stories come under the subgenre of Urban Fantasy. Or at least, they’re cousins of Urban Fantasy.

One thing I love the most about all of these stories is the transformation from an ordinary setting (a library, a university, modern USA) into something new and strange, beautiful even if frightening. That mindflip represents what I want a vacation to be– something transformative, a special time and space where I have stepped away from the real world. It still exists alongside my vacation time, of course, and I may even still check the headlines daily. But I don’t have to worry about the usual concerns of work, community politics, international events, and so on. I feel like I’m in a separate pace where so much potential exists, and is mine for the taking. Free of those usual burdens I can start a new habit, revise my normal routine, try something new and unknown.

So the characters’ transformative journeys speak to me in particular when I’m in family vacation mode. I’ve only achieved this feeling on Monhegan trips so far– when I take a whole week away from my normal life. That’s long enough to think of something new and try it over and over. It might or might not stick, that’s part of the mystery that enchants me.

Transformation

When I visit the Monhegan library upon my arrival at the island, I might not even remember that’s the kind of book I’m looking for– until I find one. Or I see one of the books I read in this same group before, that reminds me. Then I keep it in mind while I look through the fantasy & sci-fi section. I may take out other sub-genres as well, as I did this year, but I’m hoping for the urban fantasy transformation that will echo my own hoped-for changes.

Dissonance and creation

Reading on Monhegan is different than reading anywhere else I go, also. I’m just as enraptured as usual by an author’s worldbuilding. But at the back of my mind I also hear dozens of gulls squawking, ocean waves lapping on the rocky shore, and an approaching ferry’s motor growling. At home I live a couple hours’ drive from the ocean, so this is nothing like what I’d hear on a normal day. It’s a dissonance between what I know is reality (work, normal politics, etc) and what I can hear, feel, and see right now.

Even if I don’t do deep transformations on these vacations, I still feel like I’m doing a lot of inner work. Much like letting an injured limb rest while your body heals, I’m tuning out the stress and fright and terror associated with daily life. That recovery is so important. On the outside, it might seem like nothing has changed as soon as I return home and head back to work. But on the inside I’m stronger and more resilient. And perhaps I’ll have a realization about, for example, how much energy I give to the horror stories of modern events, instead of creating my own imaginative story. Perhaps the simple act of reading more, writing more, being creative and unstructured, will have reawakened my own creative yearnings enough for them to stay present when I get home. Who knows where that might lead me?