Syncing the Seasons

Books for All Types of Weather + Slow-Roasted Salmon

I’m trying something new this week: Rather than focus on a single book (or two books sharing a theme), I’m instead waxing poetic about the joy of seasonal reading, and have included several book recs below. Will you *please* let me know how you like this format (more books, shorter descriptions) in the comments? I’ve been feeling like the single-book essays are getting stale so wanted to shake things up a bit. And now, without further ado, how to read books that follow the seasons, and the sense of satisfaction and cohesion it can bring to your life.

READ

By now you all know I have a thing for all things English, gardens, family sagas and crumbling country estates. I Capture the Castle by Dodie Smith (pub. 1948; available on a multitude of used book sites) encompasses all – yes, all! – of my genre obsessions into one astounding, enrapturing novel that’s meant for a younger audience but has a cult following among older readers. When I think of this book, I think of spring and summertime. Set in the 1930s on the rambling grounds of an abandoned castle, our heroine, Cassandra – a young, aspiring writer who keeps her journal close – and her siblings spend their days playing among the castle’s crumbling interiors and far-ranging gardens, wild with untamed blooms. Their father remains locked in a room, attempting to complete a book that’s haunted him for decades; their stepmother, Topaz (the names!), flits around in high fashion and is more of a big sister than a mother figure to the children. Soon an American family takes over the castle ownership; an Austen-esque tale ensues. I love a good love story; one with an emphasis on school break, high grasses and wisteria? Game over.

One of the most fulfilling reading experiences I’ve ever had was when I first read The Summer Book by Tove Jansson, translated by Thomas Teal (pub. 1972; available here), which takes place on a tiny island in the Gulf of Finland. Here we meet 6-year-old Sophia and her grandmother, a hardy, wind-worn woman nearing the end of life. The story is deceptively simple: We follow Sophia and her grandmother through often-gorgeous, sometimes-treacherous days on the water’s edge, party to their conversations about life, death and love. Sophia’s grandmother – wizened, a bit cranky and creaky but open to imagination and play – speaks to her like an equal. In turn, Sophia expresses mature care and an ability to recognize her grandmother’s growing weaknesses. They nurture each other, watch storms and build forts, with the pristine Northern European coast as a backdrop. It’s truly one of the most magical, mystical, beautiful, special books in my collection. A perfect warm weather book.

Fall, with its shortening days and shedding foliage, asks us to draw inward. We begin the process of moving indoors again – a ripe time for reading, indeed. Elizabeth Strout’s books – all of them, but mostly Olive Kitteridge and Olive, Again (pub. 2008 + 2020, respectively; available here and here) – scream autumn to me. The Olive books are set in the fictional town of Crosby, Maine, full of weathered New Englanders, Victorian-style homes and the infamous turning-of-leaves. Olive’s transformation throughout the two novels mirrors the seasons: She trudges through tragedy (winter), into a new phase of life and growth (spring, summer), then yet more tragedy and hardship (fall) and finally into the winter of her last days. Throughout, she retains a hilarious, stubborn and sometimes exasperating perspective that is just – if you know the books well – so Olive. Olive is one of the most specifically drawn, beloved characters in any novel, ever, period. Flawed as hell and laugh out loud funny, you can’t not love her. Fishermen’s sweaters required.

Winter books have a charm all their own. Yin season invites us to nestle by the fireplace, on the coziest chair, with books that take you places. I’ve written in the past about The Barrøy Chronicles, a Norwegian series that covers all seasons but feels distinctly wintry (likely due to the violence and bone-chill of the Northern European coast). Another ideal novel for a winter brood is Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead by Olga Tokarczuk, translated by Antonia Lloyd-Jones (pub. 2009; available here), a Polish mystery unlike any book I’ve ever read. Our narrator, Janina, is an eccentric older woman with a penchant for astrology and animals. She lives in the forest, minding her own business, until her neighbor is found murdered. From here the mystery unfolds: more people wind up dead; Janina and her outlandish theories become the laughing stock of the town. Winter in Poland – cruel and grey – is the backdrop for the story, which twists and turns, winding you through dense forests and frigid log cabins. A cold-weather chronicle not to be missed.

EAT

Speaking of seasons, Alaskan salmon season might just be my favorite, and we’re right at the start of it. From now til September, those of us lucky enough to get our hands on the gorgeous pink beauties should take advantage. There’s truly nothing like it. The best way to cook it is slowly, coaxing out the richness and gently roasting it til it’s so tender you’ll think it’s undercooked (it isn’t). Slow-cooked salmon is nothing new, but I figured if we’re celebrating seasons, we might as well fête a fish that is caught seasonally (and should be eaten as such). Flex your creativity when it comes to the accompanying elements: tile the top of the fish with citrus rounds, thinly shaved shallot and olive oil; massage it with Magic Spice (as pictured); nestle it among tiny tomatoes and smashed cloves of garlic, or on a bed of spring onions; I’ve also been loving it alongside thinly shaved green cabbage and half-mooned leeks (also pictured). Below is the (very simple) cooking method; add whatever elements you wish!

Slow-Roasted Alaskan Salmon
Serves 2

½ - ¾-pound filet of wild Alaskan salmon (depending how hungry you are)
Whatever veg you’re roasting alongside (asparagus, spring onions, tomatoes, etc etc)
Kosher salt
Evoo
Maldon

Preheat your oven to 325F. Add whatever veg you’re roasting alongside the fish to a small baking sheet and drizzle with olive oil. Make space in the center for the fish. Season your salmon with Kosher salt and nestle it (skin-side down) among the veg, then drizzle with more olive oil. Roast until you can see the albumin (aka the white protein excreted when the fish is done cooking). This is a surefire way to perfectly cook your salmon and, depending on the thickness of your fish, should take about 20-25 minutes. If you’re uncertain of doneness, check the center. It should be bright pink and just-barely cooked. Don’t be scared if it looks undercooked! If you see albumin, it’s ready to eat. I like to remove the skin, tear the fish into beautifully uneven, craggy pieces and serve it atop the pile of roasted veg, sprinkled with Maldon, of course.