By Federica Nuccetelli, Vedosi Karmarkar, and Esmee Zuiker
With the approaching winter holiday comes the long-awaited time to finally put your focus on something other than Excel sheets and the Sigmund Freuds of the world. As we put our academics to rest and crawl under woollen blankets, we start longing for the perfect things to match our moods, mirror a specific feeling we have been having, or answer the questions that have been nagging our minds. But the process of finding them can be frustrating. That is why three staff writers, Esmée, Federica, and Vedosi, took it upon themselves to inspire you by providing recommendations to three AUC students’ oddly specific requests.
Prompt by: Elena Forgione, Social Science major, 2nd year
“I want the perfect album to listen to while taking a walk in the city at 3 am”
Answered by: Vedosi Karmarkar
I think one of the most nostalgic and reflective experiences you can have is seeing a city – familiar or unfamiliar – without the hustle and bustle of daily life. In the middle of the night, everything softens. There are very few times when one can feel as contemplative as when seeing the streets they usually walk down look totally unfamiliar at night. Sometimes, the perfect song is needed to accompany these moods.
One album that I think perfectly balances a blend of both melancholy and warmth that is often felt walking on the empty roads is Mitski’s The Land is Inhospitable and So Are We. The one song that I feel encapsulates the feelings the entire album produces is “The Deal,” which matches the vibes of taking a walk at 3 am both literally and metaphorically, as Mitski herself sings about wandering the streets at night.
There’s a balance of self-reflection and tentative hope as Mitski sheds light on the darkest corners of both her and our minds. Not only that, The Land is Inhospitable and So Are We is also an album surrounding romance, or more specifically, the idea of having and losing love. If the look of streetlights casting shadows appeals to you, then this album will definitely resonate.
If the quiet is what you seek, and if voices are simply too loud for the darkness, then Miles Davis’s Kind of Blue is like no other. This completely instrumental album is performed by one of the legends of both soul and jazz. Despite being only five songs long, each track is a different part of the city. The absence of lyrics makes you feel like a part of the melody itself, and the songs are perfectly paced to the slowness of a sleeping city. In collaboration with John Coltrane, the album’s opening song So What is both a little upbeat and a little soulful, almost like the way one block can be bustling with nightlife while the other is completely deserted.
The beauty of Kind of Blue is in its ability to bring about what seem to be conflicting emotions, while still, somehow, working perfectly and creating a coherent whole.
These albums are almost perfect for the stillness of the city at night, but a few others that complement it well are Blue by Joni Mitchell, Roy Hargrove’s Approaching Standards and A Boot and a Shoe by Sam Philips.
Prompt by: Paula Jurczynska-Chu, Social Science major, 2nd year
“A book/show for when you need a little break from the family function and you just want to exist in your own world for a tiny bit before heading back.”
Answered by: Federica Nuccetelli
Ah, the great power of escapism! The winter holidays can be a tough season for anyone, especially when one is trapped in the bittersweet prison of family functions. If you feel the need for a break (very valid!), here is what I recommend:
When it comes to comforting pieces of media, Wes Anderson is always a good place to start. This director often manages to blend a sense of whimsy with the intricacies of human relationships. The profound topics he tackles are seen from a distance: even the greatest tragedies are rendered alien by his dry humour and peculiar depiction of the world, made of symmetries and pastel colours.
A great example of the otherworldly character of his creations is The French Dispatch. Described as a love letter to journalism, it’s the perfect movie to see in multiple instalments, due to its anthological nature! It details 3 different stories included in the last issue of an eponymous magazine, published after the death of its editor-in-chief. All the stories take place in the fictional French village of Ennui-sur-Blasé (Boredom-upon-Apathy), and paint a surrealist image of everyday life. From tales of student riots culminating in a chess match, to stories of artistic inspiration found within cell walls, or even talks of heroic missions performed by culinary gods, you’ll be sure to find something that strikes your fancy.
I would, especially, urge those who are already familiar with Anderson’s work to give The French Dispatch a try, as it is a great pick to explore past his most well-known productions.
As for books, a story that feels like it was picked right from the ‘childhood favourites’ shelf should do the trick: one like Ruby Red, by the German author Kerstin Gier.
This fantasy trilogy follows Gwenyth Shepherd, a 16-year-old girl born into a family in which the ability to time-travel is an inherited trait. In order to hone skill, those born with it train their whole lives to carry out important missions and seamlessly integrate into past societies. Gwen, however, has never been burdened with such things, as it’s her cousin Charlotte who is destined to receive this power. That is… until she is unexpectedly transported into the streets of eighteenth century London, confused and entirely unequipped. Thus begins a whirlwind of adventures involving secret societies with suspicious intents, cryptic family dynamics, and the great frustration of having to be babysat by your archnemesis.
For those who would like not only to explore different worlds, but different epochs entirely, the lead’s adventures through time provide for a comforting and charming form of company.
Overall, I believe these to be great pieces of media to sandwich between one family discussion and the next!
Prompt by: Sofija Stefaņenkova, Social Science major, 3rd year
“I need to find a word for that feeling when you realise you’ve come to an end of losing someone, like it kind of dawns on you that cracks have been growing between you for a while without either of you noticing and now it’s the end or maybe the end has passed already and now it just hits you that they’re not yours anymore, it’s that bittersweet acceptance mixed with deep longing and tingling what-ifs (if we had noticed this earlier had we been able to fix it…). I’d love it if you find any books/films that encompass this feeling. Bonus points if it’s queer/sapphic”
Answered by: Esmée Zuiker
This description immediately resonated with me; however, finding a piece of media, let alone a word, to encapsulate it was challenging. Allowing my mind to wander with the queer/sapphic lead ultimately led me to the book Our Wives Under the Sea by Julia Armfield. This Gothic story, told through a dual achronological narrative, grapples with themes of grief, unreachability, the ocean, and the ominous that is endemic to it.
Armfield’s prose is beautifully evocative, drawing readers into a relatable lesbian relationship set against a horrific and surreal backdrop. It tells the story of Miri and her wife, Leah, a marine biologist who went on a disastrous submarine mission and became trapped on the ocean floor. When Leah finally returns, she has been irrevocably altered by her experiences in the depths. Miri struggles to connect with this changed version of her wife, seeking rapprochement. Ultimately, she must face the reality that Leah is lost to her.
Our Wives Under the Sea can be interpreted in many ways, or rather, it can serve many interpretations. See it as a novel about trauma and the irredeemable alterations it inflicts upon our relationships, as I did when I first read it. Alternatively, see it as a novel about the painful everyday reality of losing someone while still holding them in your arms, blind to what is happening beneath the surface, only realising when it is too late.
Did Leah truly return? Did Miri make it all up in her flight from the heartbreaking reality? Or were they doomed from the moment Leah boarded the submarine? Perhaps none of this mattered, and they were merely circling the inevitability like a whirlpool, with acceptance as the only means to alleviate the pain.
All this ambiguity makes Our Wives Under the Sea a heartbreaking emotional journey, submerging readers with each chapter into a deeper zone of the ocean. While I couldn’t find a single word to encapsulate the feeling you described, perhaps this sentence by Armfield offers something even better: an entire ocean to let it drift in:
“She is looking at me – this now, the last of her – and she is still looking at me when I move my arms to release her, when she melts between my hands and into the water, twisting down into the rolling tide.
What persists after this is only air and water and me between them, not quite either and with one foot straining for the sand.”
Armfield, Julia. Our Wives under the Sea. Flatiron Books, 2022, p. 228.
The Herring 