Sundaze Book Café is the home of everyday magic, joyful living and conversations likely to be had over a hot drink with a friend in your favourite café, capturing the syrup-slow feel and glow of a Sunday. I’m Michelle, and I’ll be your host this Sunday.
A quick conversation with friends, scroll on social media or even peruse of the shops instantly grants us the knowledge that October is autumn’s It Girl month. October, and all of its rain-tempered beauty, its fallen leaves, whispering as they dance to the ground, its hauntingly dark evenings, quietly fading in. Spooky season is in full swing and, although I won’t be in the country for Halloween shenanigans this year, I’m definitely in the mood for a haunting or two.
The catch? I’m a big baby, a whopping wimp. I can barely watch a horror movie, never mind fill my imagination with a book in the bloody genre. (Although I did put my big girl pants on and watch The Amityville Horror with my boyfriend a weekend or two ago. And The Shining is on my October TBR list!) Yet how could I let this ghoulish month and everybody’s favourite micro season pass without acknowledging it in some small way?
I present to you my book picks that will haunt you long after the last page. TBR lists at the ready.
The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue by V.E. Schwab
Somebody please ban me from talking about this book because I realise I featured it in my last bookish round-up too. But The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue is one that lingers long after you finish it. When Adeline makes a Faustian deal with the devil, she spends years searching for a way to leave her mark on the world. Intensely beautiful with lyrical prose that feels like magic at every turn of the page, it’s ironic because Schwab leaves the wildest mark on any reader that stumbles on this story. Not only is the writing utterly gorgeous and gripping, the message stays with you for a long time: what mark do and will we leave on the world as we live our lives?
The Road by Cormac McCarthy
Perhaps the most devastating novel on this list, I plunged into The Road knowing little about the plot – just that it was an incredibly moving story. And it is. In this dystopian novel, a man and his son navigate a post-apocalyptic, burned and ravaged America together, in search of the coast. The Road is quiet, bleak and unsettling. There is nothing left in the ravaged landscape, save for ash on the wind and remnants of what was. They have nothing besides a pistol – for defence, a cart of scavenged food, and each other. The lack of chapters, the repetition and the uncanny, eerie quietness of the book sung to me. McCarthy’s simple, literary tone creates a desolate setting and really unsettling mood: I often finished a reading sprint and found myself shocked to be ‘in real life’.
The slowness builds tension perfectly. We don’t really know what is happening in the book’s world; we’re as much in the dark as the characters are. And this makes it a real page-turner. McCarthy’s post-apocalyptic world is brought to life vividly through really simple descriptions. Everyday settings, objects and places burned to a crisp and then some. The son’s voice lends a naïveté and poignancy to the read, as well. His voice is a clear marker of ‘good’ amongst ruined lands, bandits and other apocalyptic horrors. I finished this in the evening of Halloween and it was the perfect time to read it.
The Safekeep by Yael Van Der Wouden
When the Booker Prize 2024 shortlist was announced, I was delighted to see The Safekeep nominated. Set in the Dutch countryside during the summer of 1961, The Safekeep is a gorgeously romantic and equally captivating novel that tells the story of Isabel, a woman who is attached to her family’s country house. The home will one day belong to her brother Louis who prefers city living, yet the house means everything to Isabel – it’s rooted in family nostalgia and storied history. When Louis is away for a work trip, his girlfriend stays behind to live in the country house with Isabel, much to her disgust. But her fury spirals and soon gives way to desire.
I penned a review of this earlier in the year, so I’ll paste that here: ‘This summery, romantic and nostalgic tale made for a beautiful read. It unfolds slowly, languidly, and in such a way that you don’t even notice the story becoming something else entirely. What a feat from the author. Isabel has a rich background and her sense of self is portrayed wonderfully – an innate longing for home, belonging and comfort. Eva is the perfect antithesis to homely Isabel and the romantic longings and queer desire are executed incredibly. There’s soft romance and desire interwoven throughout and I just lapped it all up beneath the English June sunshine. I don’t read much literary fiction these days, but I adored the exactness and joyful lushness of the writing here. It transported me straight to the Dutch countryside, and I was loathe to leave it.’
Landbridge by Y-Dang Troeung
This gorgeous memoir felt like far more than a memoir. Born in, and named after, Thailand's Khao-I-Dang refugee camp, Y-Dang Troeung was just one when she fled her homeland and was admitted to Canada. There, she became the poster child for the Canadian refugee project and the horrors of Pol Pot’s brutal, senseless brutal Khmer Rouge regime in Cambodia. I didn’t know a whole lot about this part of history, which made this book all the more special to read. It’s written in a beautifully lyrical way that transcends prose, dialogue and memory. The chapters are short, which moves the memoir quickly and simultaneously absorbs you into the ‘story’, and some of them are letters from Troeung to her son, offering a scrapbook effect. A truly beautiful read.
The Sweetness of Water by Nathan Harris
Another one that I never stop talking about: in The Sweetness of Water we meet Landry and Prentiss, brothers born into slavery who are finally freed as the American Civil War ends. Newly cast into the world without a penny to their names, they’re seeking work to build a hopeful future in a society that still views them as lesser-than, ending up on the land of farmer George Walker and his wife, Isabelle, who are navigating their life after loss. George employs the brothers on his farmland, and slowly a friendship blossoms between the four. In Harris’ debut novel, he expertly weaves together lyrical prose and believable, hard-hitting dialogue to create a canvas that explores family dynamics, brotherhood, a declining relationship, the post-slave trade mood, small town and sexuality. There’s a stunning thread of warm courage and remaining steadfast in the arms of love throughout a series of devastating events. Harris’ cast of characters are magnetically written and rich in depth – I could feel every emotion and was thrust straight into George Walker’s world.
Before the Coffee Gets Cold by Toshikazu Kawaguchi
I feel like this genre of moody, reflective, vignette-style stories in translated fiction is having a huge moment right now. And it’s for good reason. In this digital age, we’re losing human connection fast. There’s always something more important going on at work or going viral on TikTok or that we can quickly dance across. In Before the Coffee Gets Cold, a series of people visit a time-travelling café, granted the chance to speak to somebody from their past before the coffee gets cold. I cried during this book (and others in the series) because it is just devastating to consider the things we leave unsaid without even knowing. It haunts you with the thought that one day we might not have the chance to say what we’ve always wanted to.
Go on, share a hauntingly good book in the comments with the book café.
The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue is too good not to make the round up really. It's stunning and haunting and magical all around.
I’m midway through Before Coffee Gets Old and I’m not going to lie - I found it tough to keep my concentration through the first few pages. But tbh the quintessential theme kind of kept me motivated and rn, I’m pacing through the pages. Such an interesting read! Thanks for suggesting some more, I plan on adding them to my reading list :)