late-fall reading list

What are you reading? I have four end-of-fall recommendations, all from Nosy Interviewees (all fragrant, foxy, and friendly):

oxes on the Trampoline by Charlotte Boulay
Charlotte, the first-ever(!) nosy interviewee featured on the site, published her first book of poems and it's gorgeous, funny, and brilliant. It gave me chills on a 90 percent humidity day this summer in Boston and now it's giving me comfort as the days grow short, and cold. You can read Charlotte's poem "Scientists Have Discovered," on your phone right now, as you walk to the bookstore to buy her book.

riendship by Emily Gould
Read the first chapter of Emily's lovely and funny and bittersweet debut novel here, and     then get into it with Bev and Amy as they sort out their lives in contrast to and connection with one another in a way that is so welcome.  If this list has you hankering for still more book recommendations, hightail it over to Emily Books and subscribe to receive one great ebook each month for a year.  (Emily, self-proclaimed perfume nerd, also has a great review of Mandy Aftel's Fragrant, next on this list, at Bookforum.)

ragrant by Mandy Aftel

That cover! It matches the amazing packaging Aftel uses in her shop (where you can buy the companion kit to Fragrant and "smell along" as you read), and you can bet what's inside this book will be more beautiful still. How have I not read this yet?!? I revere Mandy! It tops my to-read list, and here's a taste from the jacket copy:

In Fragrant, through five major players in the epic of aroma, she explores the profound connection between our sense of smell and the appetites that move us, give us pleasure, make us fully alive. Cinnamon, queen of the Spice Route, touches our hunger for the unknown, the exotic, the luxurious. Mint, homegrown the world over, speaks to our affinity for the familiar, the native, the authentic. Frankincense, an ancient incense ingredient, taps into our longing for transcendence, while ambergris embodies our unquenchable curiosity. And exquisite jasmine exemplifies our yearning for beauty, both evanescent and enduring.

he Self Unstable by Elisa Gabbert

Elisa's writing is so smart and funny and humane and it will get under your skin in a good way and change the way you see. The cover makes me a little bit dizzy, but champagne-dizzy, where everything holds so much promise and sparkle, and everyone is wittier and more beautiful than they were just a few hours earlier. Elisa makes it so.


{All the pretty drop caps are courtesy Jessica Hisch's Daily Drop Cap.}

fresh stinky links

Have some coffee; stay awhile.

• Don't miss past nosy interviewee Emily Gould's great essay on the beginnings of her scent quest and her appreciation of Perfumes: The Guide. I hope she bought herself a brand new bottle of perfume the day this piece posted. 
• Over at First Nerve, Avery Gilbert writes about the results of a Polish study called "Does Personality Smell? Accuracy of Personality Assessments Based on Body Odour." People sniffed slept-in t-shirts and could tell if the wearer was neurotic. 
• Ari of Scents of Self is hosting a perfume sale to benefit Refuge, a UK charity working against domestic violence. If you have perfume (or other suggested items) that you're willing to part with for a good cause, please check it out. 
• Orangette was already the source for my go-to granola, but tonight I tried this new recipe she recently posted. After just a few bites, I already believe it has unseated the standard and now holds the place of honor as the weekly granola around these parts. We'll see how it does with Fage. The olive oil, brown sugar, and maple syrup toast up the coconut and seeds so perfectly, and for the 45 minutes this is baking you will be in love with the smell of your house. 
• Not strictly scent-related, but I wanted to share with you some online treats from other past nosy interviewees:
• Natalie has coined a new, perfect word. 
• Preeta writes heartrendingly about immigration. 
• Rebecca has a new poem to love here. 

Nosy Interview: Emily Gould

Emily in Bright Star Regulus near the Leo I Dwarf Galaxy, © Chris Cook

Emily Gould writes beautifully observed nonfiction, the sort of writing that risks making strangers on the internet feel like she's their friend. When she wrote about her smell sensitivity shortly before announcing the launch of her independent ebookstore, I definitely felt like we would have a great time eating lunch together. You'll probably feel similarly after you visit her blog, read her book, or join the conversation over at Emily Books.

What do you smell like?

I just made chicken soup so right now I smell like garlic and chicken fat and parsnips. In general I try to smell neutral most of the time. I spend a lot of time in yogaworld, where having an aggressive smell is rightly discouraged, but when I'm getting in people's personal space to adjust them I try to ensure that I at least don't smell like flop sweat.  I use Soapwalla natural deodorant cream, which smells like lavender and clay. For my birthday I asked for and received Hermes Un Jardin en Méditeranée which I like because it smells like the outdoor shower at a rich person's beach house, and I wear it when I know I'm going to a party where I'll be hugging people or when I want to seem rich.  

What do you like to smell?

At the University of Maryland my grandfather became friends with a fellow professor, Norton Dodge, who until his recent death lived on a former tobacco plantation in southern Maryland called Cremona. Norton provided a field there for my grandfather to grow grapes, and a barn that became his winery. We go there in the fall to help harvest the grapes. The smells associated with Cremona are my favorite smells.  Most of the fields there are now given over to soybeans but when I was younger some of the tenant farmers still grew tobacco, and you could walk through barns hung with huge brown drying tobacco leaves.  A lot of people say they like the smell of a freshly lit cigarette on a cold day; this is that smell but only its best aspects and multiplied.  It's how you imagine a cigarette will taste when you've never smoked a cigarette. Cremona is situated on the banks of the Patuxent River, a brackish estuary of the Chesapeake. So there's a salty muddy smell and a dry grass smell, plus all the smells associated with horses and dogs, a sun-baked brick and dusty gravel road smell, and then the smell of the grapes and the winery itself: damp, cork, yeast, cold stone and wet wood.

Other than Cremona I like: the smell of the concrete deck of a chlorinated pool, something being deep-fried near the ocean, and the rotting seaweed and woodsmoke smell of a New England beach.  Basically if it takes place near the water I'm into its smell. Except the Pacific, I have never been as moved by its smells. I don't have a history with them.

Oh I also like the smell of Moscow: harsh rich perfume, dry indoor heat, cigarettes, snow, mud, petrol, unventilated cooking areas, tea, a little vodka-piss.  I guess because I associate these smells with mystery and falling in love!