The hard truth of holiday reads

Like Nero fiddling while Rome burns, I’ve spent the last week recommending people holiday reads for their jaunts to the continent. It’s tempting to thrust The Uninhabitable Earth or The End of Nature into their hands but, as I’ll soon be adding fuel to the fires by flying to Croatia, I don’t. They, like I, are hoping that their much longed for week of rest and relaxation doesn’t end up in fleeing a climate catastrophe. The last thing any of us wants to read when embarking on such willfully ignorant trips is the truth.

Right now, maybe just for the next six weeks, people are looking purely for escape. They’re tired. We all are. The end of the school year, the never-ending loop of political crises, the non-stop rise in the cost-of-living, the existential threat flashing up in flames on our screens: it’s a lot. Few, if any, customers are asking for political treaties on the green economy. Perhaps they should but I completely understand why they don’t.

Beach read, holiday read, whatever the term, people are looking for the perfect pages for an afternoon by the pool. Gripping but not too complicated, well-written but easily skimmed, a story that will whisk them away but allow them to return to the realities of squabbling kids or sunscreen application between chapters. Pure escapism. As ever though, what sounds like a simple bookselling brief can be tricky to fulfil.

For many people, summer holidays are the only opportunity they get to read during the year. They don’t have time day-to-day. Which means they don’t have recent reference points for what they like and dislike. They read Normal People or Hamnet last year and cried at both. Or maybe that was the year before? That tall bloke of the telly who writes crime books – they read one of his last Christmas but can’t remember which one. It was quite good though. So that’s the brief we get – something to help them escape, something good.

For many people, summer holidays are the only opportunity they get to read during the year. They don’t have time day-to-day. Which means they don’t have recent reference points for what they like and dislike

I’ve read a lot of good books in the past year and many which have helped me escape, but a lot I immediately disqualify. Hardback? Not with Ryanair’s weight restrictions. Children’s books? Most adults won’t consider them. Labyrinthine, surrealist novels about a post-environmental apocalypse? Probably not. 

How about The Seven Husbands Of Evelyn Hugo – Hollywood glamour and hidden secrets?
Don’t like stuff set in the past.
What would you consider as "the past"?
Anything more than 20 years old.
If you liked Richard Osman, how about Reverend Richard Coles?
Maybe. Is it funny?

Short stories? Jess Walter is one of my favourite writers and his new collection, Angel of Rome, has a real mix of subjects. Good for reading in small chunks between swims.
No, don’t do short stories. I want something I can get my teeth into.

Gradually I put a pile together. The tried and trusted – Amor Towles, Marian Keyes. Book club favourites like Percival Everett, Jan Carson. Beach-friendly bestsellers – Emily Henry, Gabrielle Zevin. A few long shots – Claudia Pineiro, Caleb Azumah Nelson and Katherine Rundell (because despite what they said about children’s books, every adult should read The Explorer). The customer finds a corner, takes a seat and weighs up the options.

A little too often for my self-worth, they put everything I’ve selected back and go with something they saw on the telly, Bob Mortimer maybe, Colleen Hoover or Lee Child. But sometimes, just sometimes, they not only go with my safe suggestions, but also take a punt on a long shot. For people who only read a few books a year, it’s the equivalent of turning up at the airport without a ticket and seeing which flights are available. I just hope that upon reading my riskier choice they don’t feel like I’ve parachuted them into an 18-30s holiday with three hen-dos and a rugby team.

With a little luck, they’ll get a chance to escape into their book with minimal interruptions. With a little more, they’ll fall in love with it. And, if all the take-off, landing and transfer times align, they may even fall in love with reading in general and be back for more. Maybe then, after we’ve earned their trust and shown them all the ways to escape with books, we can give them a title about the climate crisis and the cost of our short-haul holidays. For now though, to paraphrase that famous Roman leader, Russell Crowe, let them be entertained.