Books about the quiet joy of everyday life
Drinking coffee, flowers on tea trays, good breakfasts and other delights
"She liked to have tea on a tray and she was fond of unmatched china. The tray she brought to Guido held cups that bore forget-me-nots, a lily-of-the-valley sugar dish, a cream pitcher with red poppies, and a teapot covered with red roses and cornflowers." – Happy All the Time
Oh, the gentle, comforting charm of books that celebrate the ordinary… our habits, rituals, simple pleasures, and ways of navigating the world.
As Mary Oliver beautifully put it in her essays, “The patterns of our lives reveal us. Our habits measure us. Our battles with our habits speak of dreams yet to become real.”
There’s something intriguing about the habits we each follow, and I think this extends to fiction, too – as we immerse ourselves in the habits and patterns of fictional characters, we can imagine their lives while feeling inspired to tinker with our own routines.
Whenever I reread Barbara Kingsolver's novel of a summer in bloom, Prodigal Summer – which is often, it’s joy in book form for me – I’m transported to the Appalachian mountains, imagining forest ranger Deanna's strolls in the woods, crouching down to watch the insects or sense the presence of wolf cubs.
After a few pages, I always want to head outside (or ideally, escape to the mountains) and feel the same connection with nature. Also, to fall asleep remembering Deanna's bedtime prayer of thanks, a habit carried over from childhood:
"Thanks for this day, for all birds safe in their nests, for whatever this is, for life…"
Just as often though, I feel a pull towards indoor comforts. I recently read Laurie Colwin's Happy All the Time – a feel-good book if ever there was one, crafted in 1978 with equal parts comedy and loveliness – and remembered what a delight it is to set a tea tray with a small vase, a seasonal flower, and a sweet treat.
(A quick summary of Happy All the Time to help determine if you’ll love it or despise it: two friends navigate improbable yet head-over-heels love, everyone becomes friends with each other, most characters are a bit nutty, everyone is happy.)
“She fought to keep the ugly, chaotic world at bay and to keep a sweet, pretty corner to live in.” – Happy All the Time
Reading Laurie Colwin is a reminder to celebrate the little things, wherever we find ourselves in life and the world. For me, that’s on the cusp of thirty-two years old and thirty-two weeks pregnant, in Copenhagen’s central Carlsberg neighbourhood.
Some recent delights: a cardamom bun cooking class with Iain, beautiful spring weather that prompted my annual tomato plant buying trip, and an explosion of blossoms, magnolia blooms, and balcony greenery.
Another delight I’m pondering: the phenomenon of becoming slightly like the characters we love, adopting their quirks and habits in our own lives, usually without even realising.
You might read A Series of Unfortunate Events and create a commonplace book – a journal of random happenings, tidbits, or quotes that may be “suspicious, unfortunate, or very dull” and may or may not come in handy someday.
Or perhaps you’ll aspire to live a little more Moomin-like, which must surely involve regular breaks for coffee, pancakes with jam, and embracing the best of every season.
"Everyone pulled on their swimming costumes and leapt into the water, except Moomintroll's mother and father who wanted to drink a coffee first."
A few more borrowed delights and habits from the wonderland of books...
Listening to Arvo Pärt because of Donna Tartt's The Goldfinch. (“Over and over I played her favorite Arvo Pärt, as a way of being with her".)
Adopting James Bond’s shower routine from Ian Fleming’s books, usually scalding hot followed by freezing cold. Although a delight for some, others may prefer the many details of breakfasts (usually featuring eggs):
"Breakfast was Bond’s favourite meal of the day. When he was stationed in London it was always the same. It consisted of very strong coffee, from De Bry in New Oxford Street, brewed in an American Chemex, of which he drank two large cups, black and without sugar. The single egg, in the dark blue egg cup with a gold ring round the top, was boiled for three and a third minutes.”
Putting a jazz record on the turntable and enjoying a glass of whisky late in the evening à la Haruki Murakami.
Eating bread with a chunk of cheese and a glass of milk like Heidi, or making a flower crown like Anne of Green Gables.
Feeling inspired to learn about wine after reading A Gentleman in Moscow.
Remembering the delight to be found in a sharp outfit – tailored trousers, a red lipstick – in A Master of Djinn, P. Djèlí Clark's immersive debut novel set in a fantasy alternate Cairo in 1912.
Creating a simple tea ritual (maybe a pot of grassy green sencha, Earl Grey without milk, or freshly-picked mint) to accompany quiet thoughts about your next steps in life, inspired by Becky Chambers' A Psalm for the Wild-Built. It’s a warm embrace of a book, wonderfully dedicated to "anybody who could use a break". (The equally excellent sequel is "For anybody who doesn't know where they're going".)
All this is to say: I'm convinced that the books we read help to build our lives, from the tiniest pieces – everyday delicacies, habits just because – to the big things: changing direction in work, tinkering with our preferences, priorities, and ways of seeing the world. They ask us what sort of everyday life we dream of.
The marvellous thing is that these little temptations and inclinations can constantly change, day by day and book by book. And over time, we can see what sticks.
So why not nurture this? Especially when it comes to the little things, what's the harm in keeping half an eye open for something to make your day just 1% more delightful? If it's to be stumbled upon by chance in a good book, all the better.
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What a lovely post to read on a quiet Sunday morning 😊 I have added a couple of titles to my Good Reads - thank you for the suggestions!
Thank you I am going to try a couple you suggested