Catching Summer
Julia Reed August 26th, 2010No matter how old I get, every year at about this time, I still fall prey to “back-to-school” dread, accompanied by a big dose of regret over all the things I meant to do and didn’t. Labor Day’s less than two weeks away, the autumn grind is about to begin in earnest, and I still haven’t read half the “vacation reading” books in my stack, worked my way through a single Food & Wine “best grilling recipes” (from the June 2009 issue!), or used even half the basil and mint that have taken over my garden.
Like millions of other people, I did manage to plow through The Girl with a Dragon Tattoo and The Girl Who Played with Fire in anticipation of the third volume, about which I fought with my husband over who would read first. (We both did after I couldn’t stand it any more and bought an unbelievable TWO hardcover copies.) They kept me up late for nights on end and got me through a ten-hour plane ride to Brazil, but I ultimately found lots more summer satisfaction in Richard Russo’s That Old Cape Magic.
As much as I completely adore Lisbeth Salander (sorry but Blomvquist left me cold, a fact that the divine Daniel Craig, who will play him in the English-language version of Dragon Tatoo, will undoubtedly remedy), Russo’s characters are, well, more like you and me. There’s not a brave bisexual/autistic chick in the bunch, and the only evil they battle is the way watered-down version that lurks within all our hearts. The characters are familiar and welcome messes, full of goodness and lots of flaws, and in the end they manage to find the kind of redemption that doesn’t require a body count or a courtroom victory. I bought it because every year I vow to get a summer house somewhere on Cape Cod or in Maine, two of the places where the novel is set, and every year, summer ends with that particular item unchecked.
The great thing about Labor Day weekend is that it affords us one more chance to catch summer before it gets away. I may not be on the Cape, but I’ll be in an equally lovely (if slightly hotter) spot, my mother’s house in Seaside, Florida. Located between Pensacola and Panama City (where the president recently powered through a 24-hour “vacation”) on the Gulf of Mexico, Seaside’s beaches are white and powdery, the local seafood is amazing, and I’m thrilled to report that there’s not a drop of oil on the horizon. I will gamely pack a canvas tote full of books, an ice chest full of my new favorite rose (a delicious Crosby Roamann “Introsé” from Wine for All), and Ziploc bags full of basil and mint for marinating. Then I guess I should pull out that 2009 Food &Wine and get to grilling. As the aforementioned books teach us, it is never too late for redemption.
