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Summer Solstice: An Essay
Summer is fireflies and sparklers. Fat red tomatoes sliced thin and salted. Lemonade and long dreamy days. The treasures of the season are gone much too soon — but they’re captured here, in loving sensuous prose that’s both personal and universal, for you to find any time of year.
Experience the most evocative tribute to the meaning of the season, a season whose magical feeling stays with us even in winter. Where does that feeling come from? What is summer made of? The smell of cut grass behind the gasoline of a lawnmower. A crown you’ve made of flowers. Blackberry bush prickers. First hot dog off the grill. Stargazing and sleeping with the windows open. This essay brims with a searching honesty and insight about what this season has meant in our pasts and what it might mean in our lives ahead.
Release yourself into the sky and feel, Nina MacLaughlin writes, for a moment: there's time.
If summer is the season of your life, if the months between Memorial Day and Labor Day hold your favorite memories, you’ll love Summer Solstice .
Experience the most evocative tribute to the meaning of the season, a season whose magical feeling stays with us even in winter. Where does that feeling come from? What is summer made of? The smell of cut grass behind the gasoline of a lawnmower. A crown you’ve made of flowers. Blackberry bush prickers. First hot dog off the grill. Stargazing and sleeping with the windows open. This essay brims with a searching honesty and insight about what this season has meant in our pasts and what it might mean in our lives ahead.
Release yourself into the sky and feel, Nina MacLaughlin writes, for a moment: there's time.
If summer is the season of your life, if the months between Memorial Day and Labor Day hold your favorite memories, you’ll love Summer Solstice .
72 pages, Paperback
First published April 27, 2020
18 people are currently reading
1328 people want to read
About the author
Nina MacLaughlin
7 books215 followersNina MacLaughlin is the author of Wake, Siren: Ovid Resung, a re-telling of Ovid's Metamorphoses told from the perspective of the female figures transformed, as well as Summer Solstice: An Essay. Her first book was the acclaimed memoir Hammer Head: The Making of a Carpenter. Winter Solstice is forthcoming. She's a books columnist for the Boston Globe and her work has appeared in or on the Paris Review Daily, The Virginia Quarterly Review, n+1, The Believer, Agni, American Short Fiction, the New York Times Book Review, Meatpaper, and elsewhere. She lives in Cambridge, Massachusetts.
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June 21, 2025
‘What’s the start of summer for you,' asks Nina Maclaughlin in Summer Solstice: An Essay, a short collection of reflections on the longest day of the year that marks the start of the summer season. What is 'the signal that it’s here?' Is it the last day of school? Or perhaps the first warm weekend in June, or the first smell of ‘campfire smoke in your hair’ on a night of dueling twinkles between stars and fireflies? For myself the summer solstice, midsummer, has always been an important day to kick off those fresh summer feelings, particularly as I share the day with my own birthday. ‘Summer strums the loose low chords of freedom and release,’ Machlaughlin writes, ‘when a person can feel their wingspan again’ and the release from childhood eagerness and anticipation for my birthday and stepping into the vastness of summer and its seemingly infinite, yet numbered, days tends to fall directly on the solstice. Summer is a season where ‘there are extra layers of possibility afoot’ a time where the night feels like it can open into a fairy tale at any moment. It is a season to run headlong into with aspirations and joy, yet also a season to take in sips, to feel slow and relaxed. Maclaughlin’s slim yet sentimental and thought provoking essay collection—a companion to her Winter Solstice essays—is a lovely celebration of the solstice with reflections of the nostalgic properties of summer that blossom in our minds, to metaphorical rebirth as we dive into the ponds, pools and lakes, and makes for a perfect literary way to usher in summer and all the emotional resonance that flows from it.
‘There are not enough jam jars to can this
summer sky at night. I want to spread those
little meteors on a hunk of still-warm bread this
winter. Any trace left on the knife will make a
kitchen sink like that evening air
the cool night before
star showers: so sticky so
warm so full of light.’
–Aimee Nezhukumatathil, from Summer Haibun
As in her Winter essay collection, Maclaughlin pulls together a really excellent variety of sources to illuminate each season through a multitude of ideas. Writers like Robert Graves, Nathaniel Hawthorne, Anne Carson, or Tove Jannson—Maclaughlin refers to Jannson’s The Summer Book, a favorite summer read of my own, as ‘a novel luminous as a piece of beach glass’—and more are brought into the seasonal investigation, and even songs from Janis Joplin or Led Zeppelin add a depth of insight. Though, personally, I enjoy how her collections are heavily steeped in poets, with Octavio Paz, Tony Hoagland, May Swenson, Issa Kobayashi among those quoted. Quoting Issa Kobayashi, Maclaughlin reminds us that with the dawn of the solstice comes the morning dew, which people once believed you should rub over your face as a symbol of renewal not unlike a baptism, which is why the Christian St. John’s Eve celebrating John the Baptist comes at the lunar midpoint between planting and harvest. I started my morning by running my hand through the dew and letting its droplets where ‘air and moon mingle’ cool my face as we are currently in a heatwave signaling summer has indeed arrived. As Issa Kobayashi writes:
‘The world of dew
is the world of dew.
And yet, and yet—’
Summer is the season of possibility, of stretching out, of the ‘and yet.’ What will the and yet of your summer be?
‘Summer is earth’s memory of all the fertile formlessness, everything arriving. Wet breathed, bloodied, burning. Summer is the memory of what we know used to be, but can never wholly recall.’
Maclaughlin explores how the possibility is felt most strongly for her when she submerges in summer waters and how it is symbolic of rebirth in the womb of the world. ‘In both water and sex, getting carried away is the point,’ she writes and who doesn’t love being carried away on the idyllic waves of summer?
In this return to the self, Maclaughlin also examines how summer is fueled by the magic of nostalgia and how the warm joys in summer are an intermingling with the memory of the past dancing along with the present. It is perhaps my favorite part of these essays as I am quite fond of summer and its nostalgia. It is what makes us feel free in summer, and as D.H. Lawrence writes, we are ‘freest when we are most unconscious of freedom,’ something the easy vibes of summer allow us to sink into.
‘Release yourself into the sky and feel, for a moment: there’s time. The faded smell of grill smoke and sunscreen in the air. The buttery spread of stars in the air. The oak leaves touching oak leaves on branches in the air. We have the rest of the year to hurry, to feel time’s press, to be nagged by the feeling of a promise unkept.’
So let us step into summer together. The wheel of time brings us to this period of rest, this season of life and light opposite the dark and death of winter. Yet in winter the days begin to get longer whereas in summer they grow shorter, a reminder that ‘each season is pregnant with the other.’ In an interview about her seasonal quartet novels, Ali Smith says ‘the seasons are never disconnected from each other anyway, they're the consequences of each other,’ and summer is just as much a mixture of rebirth and dying as the rest, two sides of the same coin as winter. ‘You can never have a new thing without breaking an old,’ says DH Lawrence, ‘the new thing is the death of the old,’ but for now let us bask on the shores of summer, under the ‘night skies as vast as the megalomaniac dreams of young lovers’ as Bruno Schulz wrote, in the warmth and possibility of this season.
4/5
‘We start summer as we end: empty-handed, trying to steer the wind.’
‘There are not enough jam jars to can this
summer sky at night. I want to spread those
little meteors on a hunk of still-warm bread this
winter. Any trace left on the knife will make a
kitchen sink like that evening air
the cool night before
star showers: so sticky so
warm so full of light.’
–Aimee Nezhukumatathil, from Summer Haibun
As in her Winter essay collection, Maclaughlin pulls together a really excellent variety of sources to illuminate each season through a multitude of ideas. Writers like Robert Graves, Nathaniel Hawthorne, Anne Carson, or Tove Jannson—Maclaughlin refers to Jannson’s The Summer Book, a favorite summer read of my own, as ‘a novel luminous as a piece of beach glass’—and more are brought into the seasonal investigation, and even songs from Janis Joplin or Led Zeppelin add a depth of insight. Though, personally, I enjoy how her collections are heavily steeped in poets, with Octavio Paz, Tony Hoagland, May Swenson, Issa Kobayashi among those quoted. Quoting Issa Kobayashi, Maclaughlin reminds us that with the dawn of the solstice comes the morning dew, which people once believed you should rub over your face as a symbol of renewal not unlike a baptism, which is why the Christian St. John’s Eve celebrating John the Baptist comes at the lunar midpoint between planting and harvest. I started my morning by running my hand through the dew and letting its droplets where ‘air and moon mingle’ cool my face as we are currently in a heatwave signaling summer has indeed arrived. As Issa Kobayashi writes:
‘The world of dew
is the world of dew.
And yet, and yet—’
Summer is the season of possibility, of stretching out, of the ‘and yet.’ What will the and yet of your summer be?
‘Summer is earth’s memory of all the fertile formlessness, everything arriving. Wet breathed, bloodied, burning. Summer is the memory of what we know used to be, but can never wholly recall.’
Maclaughlin explores how the possibility is felt most strongly for her when she submerges in summer waters and how it is symbolic of rebirth in the womb of the world. ‘In both water and sex, getting carried away is the point,’ she writes and who doesn’t love being carried away on the idyllic waves of summer?
‘We emerge, from waves onto beach, up the shining metal ladder off the side of a pool, onto the twiggy banks of a river, onto a lakeshore surrounded by pine forest, first smoke of campfires rising on the banks, and the world is reset. We return to our selves, separate and distinct once again, severed from the All, with only the memory of that quick glimpse into the mystery of what was.’
In this return to the self, Maclaughlin also examines how summer is fueled by the magic of nostalgia and how the warm joys in summer are an intermingling with the memory of the past dancing along with the present. It is perhaps my favorite part of these essays as I am quite fond of summer and its nostalgia. It is what makes us feel free in summer, and as D.H. Lawrence writes, we are ‘freest when we are most unconscious of freedom,’ something the easy vibes of summer allow us to sink into.
‘Release yourself into the sky and feel, for a moment: there’s time. The faded smell of grill smoke and sunscreen in the air. The buttery spread of stars in the air. The oak leaves touching oak leaves on branches in the air. We have the rest of the year to hurry, to feel time’s press, to be nagged by the feeling of a promise unkept.’
So let us step into summer together. The wheel of time brings us to this period of rest, this season of life and light opposite the dark and death of winter. Yet in winter the days begin to get longer whereas in summer they grow shorter, a reminder that ‘each season is pregnant with the other.’ In an interview about her seasonal quartet novels, Ali Smith says ‘the seasons are never disconnected from each other anyway, they're the consequences of each other,’ and summer is just as much a mixture of rebirth and dying as the rest, two sides of the same coin as winter. ‘You can never have a new thing without breaking an old,’ says DH Lawrence, ‘the new thing is the death of the old,’ but for now let us bask on the shores of summer, under the ‘night skies as vast as the megalomaniac dreams of young lovers’ as Bruno Schulz wrote, in the warmth and possibility of this season.
4/5
‘We start summer as we end: empty-handed, trying to steer the wind.’
July 21, 2025
☆☆☆☆☆
Summer Solstice by Nina MacLaughlin is a beautifully written meditation on the passage of time, human connection, and the fleeting beauty of life. MacLaughlin’s prose is rich and evocative, capturing both the wonder and melancholy of the summer solstice, as well as the quiet moments that often go unnoticed.
The novel centers on the complexity of relationships and the search for meaning, with characters that are deeply relatable in their struggles and desires. The imagery of nature—particularly the solstice itself—serves as a perfect backdrop for exploring themes of growth, change, and renewal.
This is a book that lingers long after you’ve finished it, offering both deep reflection and a quiet sense of hope. Highly recommended for fans of reflective, character-driven stories!
Summer Solstice by Nina MacLaughlin is a beautifully written meditation on the passage of time, human connection, and the fleeting beauty of life. MacLaughlin’s prose is rich and evocative, capturing both the wonder and melancholy of the summer solstice, as well as the quiet moments that often go unnoticed.
The novel centers on the complexity of relationships and the search for meaning, with characters that are deeply relatable in their struggles and desires. The imagery of nature—particularly the solstice itself—serves as a perfect backdrop for exploring themes of growth, change, and renewal.
This is a book that lingers long after you’ve finished it, offering both deep reflection and a quiet sense of hope. Highly recommended for fans of reflective, character-driven stories!
November 20, 2020
Your Christmas shopping is done. This book is the perfect gift.
Albert Camus once wrote, "In the midst of winter, I found there was, within me, an invincible summer. And that makes me happy. For it says that no matter how hard the world pushes against me, within me, there’s something stronger – something better, pushing right back."
To read this book is to push back, to revive the spirit despite all of today's suppressions of freedom -- however sensible they are. These linked and lovely essays are like a balm. You will remember summer's first dive into the river, falling asleep to the sound of crickets, letting time unspool. One by one your senses will be awakened, and reminded of living full and free.
The breadth of ideas in this book range from haiku to taxidermy to D.H. Lawrence to skinny dipping. All of them serve to make you younger, and more alive.
This is a small book, not 60 pages, but don't be deceived. It contains a large and refreshing sustenance. Buy it, read it, give it, and you will feel better than you have in months.
Albert Camus once wrote, "In the midst of winter, I found there was, within me, an invincible summer. And that makes me happy. For it says that no matter how hard the world pushes against me, within me, there’s something stronger – something better, pushing right back."
To read this book is to push back, to revive the spirit despite all of today's suppressions of freedom -- however sensible they are. These linked and lovely essays are like a balm. You will remember summer's first dive into the river, falling asleep to the sound of crickets, letting time unspool. One by one your senses will be awakened, and reminded of living full and free.
The breadth of ideas in this book range from haiku to taxidermy to D.H. Lawrence to skinny dipping. All of them serve to make you younger, and more alive.
This is a small book, not 60 pages, but don't be deceived. It contains a large and refreshing sustenance. Buy it, read it, give it, and you will feel better than you have in months.
August 21, 2023
l’estate è la stagione dei nostalgici
January 24, 2023
“everything can just go a little slower for a moment”
summer, the season that elicits a great pang of nostalgia. It’s the season that brings infinite warmth, amalgamated with the air of comfort and tranquillity.
The book contains four short essays that are unique, ranging from the intricate details of the summer solstice, down to the personal anecdotes and recollections of summer. One of my favourite aspects of this book is the author’s mentioning of writers and their pieces of literature pertaining to summer, including Anne Carson, Tove Jansson and Virginia Woolf.
Towards the end of the book, MacLaughlin provides us with the knowledge of plants that peak during the summer solstice. What’s serendipitous about this is the fact that my favourite lovers to ever exist in the book realm: Achilles and Patroclus were used as a reference when describing a plant named yarrow. “Yarrow under the pillow, dream of your true love.” The ending is simply unmatched.
Although I found the first couple of essays entertaining, I can’t say the same for the last two. Nevertheless, there were notable passages that deeply resonated with me.
all in all, the book contained short essays that evoke sweetness of summer
summer, the season that elicits a great pang of nostalgia. It’s the season that brings infinite warmth, amalgamated with the air of comfort and tranquillity.
The book contains four short essays that are unique, ranging from the intricate details of the summer solstice, down to the personal anecdotes and recollections of summer. One of my favourite aspects of this book is the author’s mentioning of writers and their pieces of literature pertaining to summer, including Anne Carson, Tove Jansson and Virginia Woolf.
Towards the end of the book, MacLaughlin provides us with the knowledge of plants that peak during the summer solstice. What’s serendipitous about this is the fact that my favourite lovers to ever exist in the book realm: Achilles and Patroclus were used as a reference when describing a plant named yarrow. “Yarrow under the pillow, dream of your true love.” The ending is simply unmatched.
Although I found the first couple of essays entertaining, I can’t say the same for the last two. Nevertheless, there were notable passages that deeply resonated with me.
all in all, the book contained short essays that evoke sweetness of summer
June 21, 2024
A nice refreshing little read to kick off summer. happy summer solstice <3. Might just f around and reread this every summer solstice now. I had a smile on my face the whole time reading this. I could see and feel everything. These essays felt so nostalgic and made me appreciate summer more, & life in general really. I’m a sap for these things what can I say.
Got to spend this summer solstice with two great friends in a body of water, ate some watermelon, went to a bookstore, bought a book, ordered some pizza and curly fries by the pool, watched some Anthony Bourdain with family and read this tiny book. Happy summer eeeee
“Summer is made of the memory of summer”
Got to spend this summer solstice with two great friends in a body of water, ate some watermelon, went to a bookstore, bought a book, ordered some pizza and curly fries by the pool, watched some Anthony Bourdain with family and read this tiny book. Happy summer eeeee
“Summer is made of the memory of summer”
October 2, 2022
“Summer brings the memory of summer, a gentle flight backward. It’s the season when a person can feel their wingspan again.”
“Release yourself into the sky and feel, for a moment: there’s time. The faded smell of grill smoke and sunscreen in the air. The buttery spread of stars in the air. The oak leaves touching oak leaves and branches in the air.”
“Summer is made of the memory of summer.”
Summer Solstice felt like a daydream. It was a short read, yet it managed to exude a strong sense of nostalgia which intensified my yearning for summer.
3.5/5
“Release yourself into the sky and feel, for a moment: there’s time. The faded smell of grill smoke and sunscreen in the air. The buttery spread of stars in the air. The oak leaves touching oak leaves and branches in the air.”
“Summer is made of the memory of summer.”
Summer Solstice felt like a daydream. It was a short read, yet it managed to exude a strong sense of nostalgia which intensified my yearning for summer.
3.5/5
June 15, 2024
MacLaughlin's Hammer Head is one of my all-time nonfiction favorites, so admittedly my expectations were high, but they were met in the first section of this essay. When she is on, she is ON.
This first part brought me back to the hometown of my youth, where the summers are much like she describes. As the book goes on, though, I felt more and more disconnected from the text. Specificity is a strength in essays, especially when they have elements from the author's life, but her tries at universality fell flatter and flatter over time.
I live in Tokyo. Not only is the nearest touchable grass two kilometers away, but the solstice is in the middle of rainy season so there's bound to be more puddles than dew.
One little hedge, an "If you can" at the beginning of the sentence, would have done me wonders. Instead it just emphasized how far away I am from home, and how people who are from different places - mountains, deserts, any place that is not New England, basically - will probably have a harder time connecting with this.
Four stars for the first section and three for the rest.
Summer strums the loose low chords of freedom and release. Feel it in the space between your shoulders. It’s the nostalgic season, arriving all warm-breezed and verdant, putting its heavy arm around you and whispering, Come on, come on, remember? Let’s return to the screen door slamming, bare feet on the porch floor, peach juice sticky on the chin, sun on the back of your neck. You can return to a time of more time. Summer brings the memory of summer, a gentle flight backward. It’s the season when a person can feel their wingspan again.
This first part brought me back to the hometown of my youth, where the summers are much like she describes. As the book goes on, though, I felt more and more disconnected from the text. Specificity is a strength in essays, especially when they have elements from the author's life, but her tries at universality fell flatter and flatter over time.
On the dawn of the summer solstice, rouse yourself from bed and head to the lawn or the field or the garden, knee in the grass or the mulch, and with palms open, touch the grass or leaves or petals, get the damp on your hands, and put the wetness to your face.
I live in Tokyo. Not only is the nearest touchable grass two kilometers away, but the solstice is in the middle of rainy season so there's bound to be more puddles than dew.
One little hedge, an "If you can" at the beginning of the sentence, would have done me wonders. Instead it just emphasized how far away I am from home, and how people who are from different places - mountains, deserts, any place that is not New England, basically - will probably have a harder time connecting with this.
Four stars for the first section and three for the rest.
October 20, 2024
- 2.5, with a rounded down rating (because i had DNFed it once before, which says something)
- i like some of the ideas here (esp the quotes from other authors, the ending with the list of summer plants), but overall the essay didn't really work for me. there were descriptions, but they weren't very immersive or impactful (though there were some nice lines), or maybe it was that i felt i'd heard them before. and i dont think her writing style is for me at all.
- my journey with this book: first saw at a bookshop in the hudson valley upstate in the spring, borrowed as an ebook from the library in the summer, DNFed after the second section, saw it on the stoop of a brownstone in brooklyn and picked it up in the summer, read my physical copy cover to cover today at a cafe in brooklyn in the fall as a reminder of summer since i'm writing something that happens in the summer.
- i like some of the ideas here (esp the quotes from other authors, the ending with the list of summer plants), but overall the essay didn't really work for me. there were descriptions, but they weren't very immersive or impactful (though there were some nice lines), or maybe it was that i felt i'd heard them before. and i dont think her writing style is for me at all.
- my journey with this book: first saw at a bookshop in the hudson valley upstate in the spring, borrowed as an ebook from the library in the summer, DNFed after the second section, saw it on the stoop of a brownstone in brooklyn and picked it up in the summer, read my physical copy cover to cover today at a cafe in brooklyn in the fall as a reminder of summer since i'm writing something that happens in the summer.
June 28, 2021
A lovely little chapbook, inside and out. MacLaughlin's seasonal essays are one of my favorite things in the Paris Review, and it's nice to reread this on a sultry night a week after the solstice when summer is really settling in here on the East coast. A dear friend sent me this for my birthday last year and I read it but didn't record it; I think I was too unsettled to think about the seasons turning in 2020. This year I get it, and even though not all MacLaughlin's summer nostalgia hits the same notes for me—in the last essay she admits to not loving the summer, at least not in New York, and it made me smile—this is a real ripe peach of a book.
July 20, 2024
i have a very strong connection to nature and appreciation for life in that way. in a way where i value the small and simple pleasures of life in every way. this book speaks so much to that. it is spiritual in a way without ever explicitly saying it, and maybe that's because of how i relate to the love of life and nature. it is very very well written, very thoughtful of thoughts or topics or subjects placed. overall, beautiful.
November 8, 2024
Perfervid.
July 25, 2025
“summer strums the loose low chords of freedom and release… you can return to a time of more time. summer brings the memory of summer, a gentle flight backwards. it’s the season when a person can feel their wingspan again.”
just a sweet love letter to summer. i can picture myself returning to this essay every year; it made me miss the summers of my childhood <3
just a sweet love letter to summer. i can picture myself returning to this essay every year; it made me miss the summers of my childhood <3
June 21, 2025
el tipo de libro que es bien cortito pero te da ganas de leerlo quinientas veces mas porque viviste y reviviste todos los veranos, todos los inicios y los finales. una hermosura.
July 10, 2025
love her writing style a lot <3 just so rich. nice and short and nature-y
June 28, 2020
I read this on the summer solstice and it was the perfect way to start the season. I love the summer and this book made me ponder all the reasons why I love it and gave me lots of nostalgic feelings. I think I will re-read this every year on the summer solstice as a new tradition!
May 17, 2023
I’ve been longing for it all of winter, trying to rehash the warmth of July nights. Right now it is early May in Brooklyn - and thanks to Nina- it’s a start of early summer for me.
“More will come. And more again. As long as it’s warm. As long as summer continues to ripen life, firm to sweet to rot. And I like to think it's a nice end for them, of all possible ends. Loose, warm, wet, a tipsy grin, a last tremble of the wing. A summer fate.”
“The best fucks leave us not turned to stone, but liquefied. In both water and sex, getting carried away is the point. Carson writes, "How slow is the slow trance of wisdom, which the swimmer swims into."
I read in on Monday, on my way to a grocery store.
“More will come. And more again. As long as it’s warm. As long as summer continues to ripen life, firm to sweet to rot. And I like to think it's a nice end for them, of all possible ends. Loose, warm, wet, a tipsy grin, a last tremble of the wing. A summer fate.”
“The best fucks leave us not turned to stone, but liquefied. In both water and sex, getting carried away is the point. Carson writes, "How slow is the slow trance of wisdom, which the swimmer swims into."
I read in on Monday, on my way to a grocery store.
June 22, 2023
This just cemented the fact that I will read anything Nina MacLaughlin ever writes ☀️
June 28, 2024
May our lives be a Walden pond swim
August 17, 2025
“Summer is earth’s memory. Summer is earth’s memory of all the fertile formlessness, everything arriving, wet-breathed, bloodied, burning. Summer is the memory of what we know and used to be, but can never wholly recall. So we remember instead: the fattest blackberries too high to reach, priciest that scratch the arm, catch the strap of the sundress, the ferries in the bush warm, swollen, ready in the sun.
It’s getting warmer. It’s getting darker. Take off your clothes and slip back in.“
It’s getting warmer. It’s getting darker. Take off your clothes and slip back in.“
June 5, 2024
a commencement to the summer month! book recommendation from jo!🫶🫶
this book feels like being sticky after eating watermelon or how the light comes through my window early beckoning the day to start.
this book is a must read for understanding the rituals of summer :)
this book feels like being sticky after eating watermelon or how the light comes through my window early beckoning the day to start.
this book is a must read for understanding the rituals of summer :)
July 20, 2024
will be reading every summer :)
August 9, 2024
some essays in here are 6 star worthy and so capture summer, so it’s a hard comparison at times but highly recommend for a pang of summer
August 13, 2024
It’s like everything I ever thought about summer but like way better
August 19, 2024
Ahhhh summer is made up of the memory of summer!!!! Such a wonderful read. Perfect as I begin to witness summer thinning into fall.
November 11, 2025
Loved this delicate summer nostalgia set of essays that remind me of the joys of summer even though summer is my hibernation season and I much prefer winter (like the author).
December 22, 2025
ironically i read this on the winter solstice. will revisit in 6 months.
June 24, 2025
Viscerally warm
April 25, 2025
Reminiscent of Annie Dillard and a fitting companion to Miranda Cowley Heller, this novella is a horned-up ode to the humid enchantments of summer. It traces the intricacies of the seasons and their rituals with a reverence that feels ancient, as if the rhythms of heat and longing were etched into the human psyche itself—in fact, MacLaughlin persuade us poetically that they *are.*
June 25, 2025
A short collection of essays about the feelings, sounds, and tastes of summer. Stone fruit, tomatoes, flowers, sweating, swimming, salty kisses, starry nights, and shedding clothes.
I want to reread this every summer solstice.
I want to reread this every summer solstice.
Displaying 1 - 30 of 96 reviews