If there’s even a tinge of the dreary February in your soul...

Plus: The great dog debate

You must read The Enchanted April. Go on now, put it on hold at the library or order a copy from Better World Books, there’s no time to waste. I don’t care that it might be May by the time you get this.

Obviously you don’t have to do anything I say at all, but if there’s even a tinge of the dreary February in your soul, I cannot recommend it strongly enough—this is the medicine for you. I wanted to read it in April because I’m basic like that, and, if I’m honest, because there was a bit of February still lingering in my soul. But really this is a book for all seasons, except perhaps September (which is for returning to books, study, work, discipline) and October (which is for spooky stories and cozy mysteries). This is a book to warm the soul in the cold and dreary months (November - March) and to heighten the pleasures of the warm and sunny ones (April - August).

I was familiar with the story because my dad brought home a $1 VHS copy of the 1991 film adaptation when I was a teen, which I loved and used to watch while taking very long baths. But somehow never got around to reading the novel itself, until last week. It was a pure joy—delightfulness incarnate.

I have to keep talking about my feelings because I keep coming up short trying to describe it to others. It’s almost as though describing the plot takes the magic out of it. And yet, for your sake, I will try. It is a story about a much-needed vacation, taken by four strangers, to a medieval castle on the coast of Italy. The strangers are women, and they are not very happy, but it’s very possible Italy will cure what ails them, just as this book could cure what ails you. Temporarily at least, while the pages are open on your lap and you drift away on a cloud of goodness. That’s how I finished the book on Sunday, in the warm sun, as petals from a blossoming tree drifted down on me.

Also Elizabeth Von Arnim is funny, so, so funny. Her writing is witty in the ways of the best drawing room dramas, but fresh and quaint and miraculously unexpected. I have thoughts on how it all resolves, but that might give things away, so I will bite them back for now. Maybe I’ll return to them later this summer, once you’ve had a chance to read your copy. Go on—order it—what are you waiting for?

Castello Brown. The writer Terence de Vere White credited Elizabeth von Arnim with making Portofino a fashionable vacation destination.

---

Linky links

• If you live in New York City, it’s unlikely you’ve escaped the “are dogs and/or dog owners bad” discourse (see: Exhibit A; Exhibit B; Exhibit C), but if you are still hankering for more dog drama, might I suggest this 6,000 word behemoth about a dog poop vigilante in Montana? An excerpt:

  To me, the story of the Bag Man is about more than poop. It’s a story about obsession and the mysteries of human behavior. It’s a story about the rules we write down and the rules that go unspoken. It’s about community, shame and our delicate social bonds. Almost all of us have been on both sides of this. We’ve all felt the chagrin of being called out for breaking a rule, and at some point, we’ve all wanted to call out others for their bad behavior. Most can agree: People should pick up their dog poop. But the story of the Bag Man is about what we should do when they don’t. 

  [Jacob Baynham for The Pulp, h/t Dawn Stover]

• The cicadas are coming! The last time Brood XIX and Brood XIII emerged at the same time, “Thomas Jefferson was president and the city of Chicago had yet to exist.” If you’re not already excited about this event, read this, and if you are, well, you probably clicked already! [Celia Ford for Wired]

• I feel like prescribed burns are, in the popular imagination, a thing that happens out west, on public lands—something to be debated over and managed by the Forest Service. But fire has been an essential element reshaping landscapes across the country for centuries. And across the Great Plains and the southeastern United States, most of the prescribed burns happen on private land. This is how people learn and work together to do them safely. An incredible statistic: The southeast accounts for 70 percent of prescribed fires in the nation. [Ashira Morris for Sierra]

• And, in case you forgot, go, go: