*The following content may contain affiliate links. If you make a purchase through the links below, I may receive compensation.

**The Above photo is not of All Fours but of my palate-cleansing Mary Oliver book, more of a refreshing primer in poetic scansion, a Christmas gift from my sister.

I had intended this final post of 2024 to be a patchwork of words, lyrics, phrases that have changed me this year. I spent some time poking around old posts, flipping through my notebooks, waking up in bed with half-formed annotations on the many excellent things I read in 2024 from Kingsolver, Mary Oliver, Robert Frost, and even J.D. Salinger. But the post ended up feeling like a chore in some way, perhaps too high-stakes (I would have assuredly left something out), and one thing I have learned in my many years of writing is that — if it’s boring to write, it’s going to be boring to read. So we’ll scrap that, and the entire song and dance of somehow “wrapping” the year in a meaningful way, and talk about a few things that are on my mind today, right now, at the very tail end of December 2024.

The first is All Fours by Miranda July, which I read 80% of in under 24 hours while running a low-grade fever just after Christmas. Honestly, this may be the most appropriate way to read All Fours, alarming, occasionally grotesque, and uncomfortable as it is. The reaction it elicited from me was unlike the reaction I’ve had to any other book I’ve ever read. It was a bit like looking on Dali for the first time: the dripping clock is immediately recognizable and yet everything is skewed and distorted and ominous. Just after I finished it, I wrote that I didn’t know what to do with myself. I needed a palate cleanser, an enormous glass of wine, forty-two hours of continuous book club discussion of the text, a cold shower, a hug from my husband, and probably a lot more than that. Which is to say that the text sent me outward and inward and in fifty-two distinct directions. There were times in the book in which I felt unsafe; I’ve never felt that way in the company of a page. All good art achieves some amount of cognitive dissonance — the uncomfortable turn of the kaleidoscope — and via this litmus, the book is high art. I am now thinking of the Marcel Duchamp “Fountain” installation. We rage against it! We are furious that it sits in the Pompidou! How dare…! And yet its very existence reifies art as an institution, begging us to trot out our half-kneaded understandings of what art is, or is not. I suppose what I am saying is that this book achieved something incredible based solely on the wilderness of emotion it unleashed in me.

Now to the tickier-tackier stuff.

But before that, a warning – this book is graphic and challenging. I think you must be in the right (solid and open) mindspace to read it. It examines the institution of marriage, challenges the values of monogamy, foregrounds sexual exploration, and includes a troubling and recurring plot sequence about fetal-maternal hemorrhaging.

Still, this is big art, and I think meritorious.

First, the book feels urgent in its treatment of perimenopause, a life stage about which we barely talk, and yet in which so many of us struggle in lonely straits. (A recent book on the subject by Heather Corinna was titled: “What fresh hell is this?” — yes.) I will humbly admit that I went to the OBGYN a year ago with what I thought were the symptoms of a malignant problem only to be handed a pamphlet about perimenopause. Yikes! I knew nothing! After, I’ve prodded friends and siblings at random moments with knowing comments and have been unsurprised by the fact that about 80% of the responses have been: “what? no, it’s not that.” On this level, the book is treating something important and unspoken, and in powerful ways. It is educative, and ultimately optimistic. There is a section in which the protagonist asks her friends the best part of being past the child-bearing years, and they present a litany of things to look forward to — women shared that they feel more like themselves than they ever have, as they are not constantly contending with the fluctuations of hormones and the occasional monsters they make of us; physical issues settle down; there is a general sense of unmasking. Wow! In a culture that valorizes youth, these were lifelines to cling to. And the book seems to be advancing a new category of literature and art dedicated to middle-life — I’m interested in the fact that Babygirl was just released to theaters, too.

Second, there are many vigorously expressed truths in this book about motherhood in particular, about the ways we accommodate (or don’t) the loved ones in our lives, about the aftermath of troubling relationships from our childhoods. Maybe truths we don’t want to admit to, or truths we can only side-eye, or even truths we do not relate to (have never experienced) but that we can understand the legitimacy of because we’ve born witness to permutations of it ourselves. I am thinking specifically about some of the characterizations of motherhood in this book — about the way motherhood asks us, or the “institution” of motherhood asks us (i.e., the way certain paradigms of motherhood are socialized, expressed, reinforced in contemporary culture), to perform a pleasant kind of “sameness” from day to day even when we are humans in constant flux and imperfectness. And how immensely difficult this is, even when we love our children beyond all reason.

The aspects of this book that filled me with unhappiness were the treatment of marriage and the inclusion of the protagonist’s child. I could not feel more differently than the protagonist, and I found it created a kind of alien space between me as a reader and her as a protagonist. I kept wanting to “get on board” with her midlife crisis, to make a wide berth for her emotions, and yet I struggled, and found the narrative slippery in this way. Assuredly this is July’s point, and I’m simply too obtuse or uptight or whatever you might call it to accommodate the pressure. There are very few pages in the novel in which July does not prod us in some way to get out from under the weight of our own pre-judgments. But still…! I was worried about the child the entire time, while the narrator absorbs herself in…herself, which in turn made me cringe for the duration of the novel. Reading it was like having my shoulders up around my ears for two days straight. I was a stress-filled, cringed-out mess!

Finally, I found the self-awareness about art, and artistic performance, throughout this novel, fascinating — it continuously throttled me out of the narrative. I would be speeding along, absorbing the story as I would any other, and suddenly I’d wonder if the very text itself wasn’t a mirror, or trap door? Like was the motel room in the plot an embedded act of art itself, meant to be understood via some other elevation, rather than a plot accelerant? And her semi-nude dance in the parking lot: what was this? A rogue performance that could be understood on its own two legs (pun intended), outside of the plot? There were so many moments like this in the novel, where instances of art studded the text like geodes: carrying their own inner crystals to be examined separately perhaps. I thought also the moment in which the protagonist returns to her motel room only to learn it’s been occupied by another guest, and is forced to visit a plain room next door — there was something intentionally slick here, something Borgesian, maybe, where we are watching the artist click-clack the viewfinder just a tick to the right, just to see what chaos it creates in the plot, in the arc of the story, in the overall canvas.

Please share your thoughts, reactions, issues…! Among readers I’ve polled, about half were astounded by it (in a positive way) and half absolutely hated this book, did not finish, etc. Wherever you land is just fine. (Bad book girls, remember?)

Post Scripts.

+A lot of you have been recommending Berry Pickers — just downloaded to read next!

+More recent book reviews here and here.

+What books give you new sky?

+Are you a book repeater?

+All my favorite books of 2024. I don’t think July’s would have made my list, no matter how impressive I found it.

Shopping Break.

The following content may contain affiliate links. If you make a purchase through the links below, I may receive compensation.

+Hotel Lobby discounted its holiday scented candles! I’ll burn these all winter, well past Christmas, in my home! Awhile ago, a Magpie wrote to say that she does her holiday baking well into February so she can extend the joy of the season without feeling rushed to “pack it all in” during the first few weeks of December — I apply the same principle to candles! Why stop burning the Christmas scents on December 25?!

+I’m newly re-obsessed with this liquid blush (you can buy in a mini size if you want to test first — my favorite colors are hope and happy). It’s hyper-pigmented, so only a dab is needed, and then you blend out. I like to finish with this liquid luminizer for serious glow. (I can’t find the exact quote, but Gwyneth Paltrow at some point said something like “I want my face to be beaming out a million rays of light” and I couldn’t agree more – I love layering glowy products!) BTW, I found this quick tutorial on blush application SO helpful. I’ve been using the “sculpted” option and am surprised by how different my makeup looks!

+Quince just re-launched its cashmere fisherman turtleneck with even softer cashmere (and 20% more of it in the sweater). They compare this style with the Jenni Kayne sweater (which costs $695 vs. Quince’s $119).

+BUT it should be noted Jenni Kayne is offering up to 40% off select products, including the aforementioned cashmere turtleneck, and their viral Cooper cardigan in this chic stripe.

+I love these jeans so much, I want to order in another color (I own in the black wash). Go a size down! I wish they made the petite inseam in the white wash!

+Did I already share this (??) — this cute textured cardigan is under $100 and reminds me of the Anine Bing one everyone has been freaking out over! For a bolder vibe, this striped style is adorable.

+Perfect slouchy sweatshirt. Hits right at waist and looks so good with leggings/jeans. I own in the red color. I wore this morning on a family walk with these leggings in red, my brown VB sneaks, my Barbour, and this inexpensive sherpa belt bag. So cozy!

+Update on my skin gadget recon: I am really impressed with the red light mask (10% off with code JEN10). I think this and the Dr. Dennis Gross pads have been making an enormous impact on my skin — specifically, I have noticeable wrinkles between my eyebrows and on my forehead, and I feel like the wrinkles are less defined and my skin overall looks more even/balanced. Mr. Magpie has been using the red light mask, too, and he said he thinks it’s made his wrinkles less noticeable, too. The Dr. Dennis Gross pads have really changed the texture of my skin — it feels so incredibly smooth and soft! I have been dabbling with the NEWA but find it difficult to work into my routine if I’m honest. Emese Gormley recently mentioned that she thinks this is an incredible product, so I’m hoping to figure out a way to carve it into my regimen, probably in the new year, after the kids are back to school and we’ve resumed a more normal routine. (It takes 20 minutes each session.) It is supposed to help with collagen production! They are currently offering 20% off plus an extra 15% off with code JEN15. And I haven’t yet tested the ZIIP but they reached out to give us a code: SHOOP for 10% off! Just sharing all my codes in case these are items you’re eyeing / interested in.

+While I was writing that previous bullet point, I noticed that Dr. Dennis Gross has an entire section of products currently 40% off…I’ve not tried these items but have been so impressed with the other products of his I have used. Just wanted to mention!