writer jamie hood on what she's reading in 2025, romance recs from erica cerulo of 831 stories, and more
monthly recs #47
Each month, we ask a writer to share what’s on their minds and in their open tabs for our monthly recommendations. This February’s guest curator is poet, memoirist, and critic , author of how to be a good girl, the forthcoming Trauma Plot (one of the most-anticipated books of 2025 according to Vogue and Vulture), and the newsletter . Her essays and criticism have appeared in The Baffler, Bookforum, The Nation, The Drift, and elsewhere.
I’d written something else about recent fixations, but then David Lynch died and my whole world went slant. Heaving, ugly sobs cracked me open like a walnut. My reaction shocked me. “Celebrity” deaths are often sad, but don’t feel proximate in any meaningful sense. For good or ill, I’m not predisposed to parasociality. Of course, Lynch wasn’t a celebrity — or not like that — but a dream-weaver, a singularity, a bedrock. Like anyone, I don’t always “get” his vision, but Mulholland Drive was the first film to truly upend and unmoor my way of seeing; Twin Peaks, meanwhile, has for many years informed my approach to storytelling, comedy, and the grieving process, particularly around sexual damage.
Lynch did not experience the world as a woman, but he understood more than most how the world wounds us, how it eats our lives.
The uncanny thing is, I’m smack-dab in the middle of a Twin Peaks rewatch, being housebound this winter while recovering from surgery. I play it on my laptop while dilating, which is to say that Lynch’s work and that show’s particular world feel profoundly embodied in me right now, and connected, yet again, to a procedure of healing. As I write this, a ceasefire deal has also just been announced, and needless to say, Palestine and its people are very much in my thoughts. I’m trying to temper my political cynicism and ongoing rage at the Biden administration — not to mention my terror of the incoming regime — with some little hope.
It’s strange, I think, and also fitting to be so often alone when it’s cold and dark out, as it is in the cosmic blue of late winter. I’m not the type to grant myself grace or patience, but this forced slowdown — and the intense solitude that comes with living alone for the first time, especially while convalescing — has felt instructive. While remapping my body, I’m thinking through my relationship with time and death, with how I can best cherish what is present. Never has it felt more obvious that our lives here are not limitless. What this means day to day is I’m trying to be more available to and tender with those I love, gentler with myself, and to help where I am able.
Lynch knew the darkness undergirding much of the world, but he also saw better than almost anyone the wonder of our inexorable interconnectedness. “One day, the sadness will end.”
’s
1. Giving to those in need where we’re able always feels top of mind. Gaza Funds is a great starting place — campaigns on the homepage rotate so that fundraisers don’t stagnate. Those without recent donations and those close to meeting their goal are highlighted. I’d also direct people toward victims of the California wildfires: here’s a broad list of vetted campaigns, and also a Google doc that spotlights assistance for displaced Black families.
2. I’m reading my way through Transit Books’s 2025 list, which is just fabulous: Lauren Markham’s Immemorial, an essay on language in the face of climate catastrophe, an updated printing of Iman Mersal’s incisive, hybrid Motherhood and Its Ghosts, a newly translated novel from the late, brilliant Turkish writer Tezer Özlü, plus two short Australian novels, one new and one brought back from 1984 — Josephine Rowe’s Little World and Antigone Kefala’s The Island. I always read what Transit’s putting out, but this feels like a particularly special year.
3. I MUST bow down before and recommend the work of my two favorite women, my dear friends Charlotte Shane and Harron Walker. Charlotte’s newsletter Meant for You has been such a balm in my life over the last year, particularly in how Charlotte wrestles with spirituality, faith, and holding on to meaning-making as a writer in the face of our apocalyptic present. She’s my moral compass. Meanwhile, Harron’s first book, Aggregated Discontent (May 20th, PRH), is such a fizzy delight — so smart, so strange, so deeply funny. Come for meditations on femininity, precarious labor, and specters of trans motherhood, stay for a fever dream fanfiction in the world of The Devil Wears Prada.
4. It would be silly not to mention my own books, one of which is being reissued and the other published for the first time — both on March 25th. how to be a good girl has been out of print since 2021. It’s a weird little book of miscellany: journal entries, lyric fragments, poetry, love letters. It’s sort of a pandemic diary, all written in the first six months of lockdown. Trauma Plot is a memoir about rape and how we narrate trauma, particularly in the wake of (and backlash to) #MeToo.
5. A few other things I’m reading and loving: after putting The Princess of 72nd Street out last year, Modern Library is reissuing Elaine Kraf’s other three published novels throughout 2025. They’re brilliant and very weird. Last year, And Other Stories finished publishing a triptych of novellas by Eva Baltasar — Permafrost, Boulder, and Mammoth. Zoë Hu is a writer whose work I follow closely, so I of course was wowed by “Mr. Lonely,” about the Tate brothers and the ubiquitous, insufferable question of the male loneliness epidemic. On Substack I always read
, , and , who’s moderating one of my book launch events in March. I’ve also been really enjoying ’s writing there lately.paid subscribers can scroll down for more recs from jamie, including the magazines to turn to in dark times, the streaming subscription you’ll wish you got sooner, and more.
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6. A View, from a bridge combines the romance of a phone call from the pre-iPhone era and the charm of a brief connection with another person. It’s a very passerby project: thoughtful, touching glimpses into the lives of strangers.
7. If you’re looking to take that connection further, here’s a guide to co-living — it covers everything from finances to conflict resolution.
8. With Valentine’s Day around the corner, we’ve been rereading some of our favorite love letters, written by Virginia Woolf, Vladimir Nabakov, and more. This is a lovely roundup and there are more in this book.
9. As the temperature drops, cashmere is one of the warmest yet lightest layers to reach for — its fine, insulating fibers trap heat without bulk. Some of our favorite options include Extreme Cashmere, Baserange’s recycled cashmere (Clémence loves the hoodie she mentioned here), Guest in Residence, Auralee, and forever-staple Uniqlo. We also shared a great search term for finding vintage cashmere here. If you’re not in the market for a new sweater, it’s a good time to make sure your knits are well-maintained — we recommend a cashmere comb to remove pilling. And if you missed it
has a whole month's worth of tips and tricks for her Repair Month series which includes Cashmere.10. It’s a frightening time in U.S. politics and it can feel overwhelming. If you’re not sure what to do, one good place to start is becoming a sustaining donor (in whatever amount you can afford — nothing is too small) at an organization doing important work. Consider United We Dream, The Brigid Alliance, and GLITS. One thing that’s keeping us hopeful in this dark time is seeing, in the wake of the Los Angeles fires, how much people want to help each other. We’ll need to keep that spirit alive in the years to come and, to that end, it’s also a good time to learn about mutual aid.
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*This month’s books are guest-curated by Erica Cerulo of 831 Stories. 831 Stories is a modern romantic fiction company that prioritizes pleasure reading and celebrates the genre's joyful, enthusiastic fans. It was started by Claire Mazur and Erica Cerulo, who you might know from their newsletter and podcast or Of a Kind.
The Idea of You by Robinne Lee: Not technically a romance because the book doesn’t have an HEA (happily ever after), but it qualifies in every other way — and is the one that got us hooked.
You, Again by Kate Goldbeck: Consider this a bit of a modern When Harry Met Sally, with a charming and saucy bi female main character.
How to End a Love Story by Yulin Kuang: This was among last year’s breakout debuts — across all genres — and it handles grief and sibling relationships especially adeptly.
Big Fan by Alexandra Romanoff: Perhaps you are seeking proof that it is possible to tell a sexy story that combines universal basic income and boy bands?
It Happened One Summer by Tessa Bailey: The author has been dubbed the “Michelangelo of dirty talk,” and no one has more fun writing than her, I don’t think.
1. If you’re feeling disenchanted by legacy media’s genocidal and reactionary orientations, you can seek out incredible writing and reporting in other places.
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