The Slummer: Quarters Till Death

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Wise as she was, she realized that people can postpone their rebellious phases until they’re eighty-five years old, and she decided to keep an eye on herself.”

The Summer Book is as ‘A masterpiece’: why Tove Jansson’s The Summer Book is as

The writing is lovely. The characters are charming and real. The stories give an immersive look at the as-yet-otherwise-unknown-to-me experience of a Scandinavian summer that feels totally new, and simultaneously gives a look at a childhood summer that is so familiar and comfortable and nostalgic.

Every once in a while I read a book that makes me jealous, that makes me wish I could write and do what the book did. Like this one. It's a wisp of a book - brief, with no plot to speak of and only two real characters, no compelling crisis to drive the action, no suspense. I loved it and it's a perfect read for a summer which will, I think, be memorable for many of us as a kind of shadow season, a time carved out from normal life and defined by the absence of normality.

The Slummer: Quarters Till Death by Geoffrey Simpson

The grandmother isn't quite a substitute, even though at one point Sophia tries to make her more of one, experimenting with calling her: "Mama". I am drawn, always, to stories set in wild locales, especially beaches, and it's part of the reason why “Cast Away” is one of my favorite films of all time and why “Jimmy” from Ms. Atwood's Oryx and Crake is a literary love of mine. (Jimmy may be homeless after the Apocalypse, but he holds the appeal of the original Adam, and how's about that beachfront property?). When Sophia steps on moss now, she still thinks of The Summer Book’s warning, telling herself “OK, you can step on it once, maybe even twice, but the third time is really bad”. This attitude of care and preservation is at the heart of The Summer Book: it proposes that every plant, every insect – and, indeed, every person – has a right to exist and to be looked after. And, 50 years on, that message is more vital than ever. Maybe because grandmothers are the only people in the world capable of educating using the art of playing and granddaughters are the only ones ready to play with grandmothers seriously.It was an early, very warm morning in July, and it had rained during the night. The bare granite steamed, the moss and crevices were drenched with moisture, and all the colors everywhere had deepened. Below the veranda, the vegetation in the morning shade was like a rain forest of lush, evil leaves and flowers, which she had to be careful not to break as she searched. She held one hand in front of her mouth and was constantly afraid of losing her balance. There are cats, there are caves, there is the wind, “always blowing. . . from one direction to another.” There are the waves. . . there is a storm. This book consists of 22 vignettes of moments between Grandmother and Sophia and their time on the island. All took place in summer, but not necessarily the same summer. You can tell that the author has a respect for nature and our planet. Grandmother, through her conversations with Sophia, is trying to install her love of their natural surroundings into her. We learn early on that Sophia’s mother has recently died. There is never an outright discussion of this, but at moments, you can sense this in Sophia’s actions. The author has a beautiful, understated style to her writing. Tove Jansson, the world-renowned creator of the Moomintroll characters, succinctly harnesses the power and glory of a seaside summer season in the twenty-two elegant vignettes contained within The Summer Book. Here is a book in no need of magic or any other fantastical adornments as she reminds us that we can discover pure, beautiful magic in the natural world all around us if only we quiet our lives and open our eyes to it. Set upon a tiny island in the Gulf of Finland much like where Jansson’s own family spent their summers, Summer Book chronicles the interactions and adventures between a young girl, Sophia, and her grandmother as they embrace the world and all the facts of life that surround them. Tender and subtle, yet laced with poignant investigations of life, love and death, Jansson’s words caress the soul like a warm breeze carrying with it the effluvium of the sea and all its majesty. The Summer Book is pure loveliness. The movements of tides and winds and boats and insects loom larger for our narrator than the currents of history, and the profound quiet of the setting—I'm reminded of Akhil Sharma's description of a prose like "white light"—allows us to hear Jansson's unsparing and ironic tenderness, a tone that remains purely her own, even in translation.