As the summer draws to a close anxiety about your summer reading list is normal. While some of us suffered through the heat of August in an unairconditioned apartment in Brooklyn, others were victims of the city heat in various shared experiences: cab driver roadrage, red-faced tourists, physical altercations with MTA staff and/or MTA property, sweaty gallery openings in the lower east side and so on.

Naturally throughout all of this chaos your reading list can be neglected. So I didn’t get to that new translation of Ovid? Nor did I read Jonathan Safran-Foer’s only follow-up to Everything is Illuminated, the one nobody remembers the title of.  And no, I’ll admit it, I didn’t read David Foster Wallace’s Infinite Jest (because the joke’s on you, mate). Procrastination is a common side effect in the last days of August, the little deaths of summer; instances where books aren’t read, emails unsent, not even a french film makes the leisure list. One find’s oneself watching Law & Order episodes set in winter.

But not to worry, September is around the metaphorical corner, next week we have a new month. Fall is here, school starts (refamiliarize yourself with required reading), the city’s refugees from the heat return to their offices, your work messsages are checked, and there’s no more vacation voicemails that almost always seem to say “Hi, we’re on the Almafi Coast right now. Enjoy August, suckers.”  Rejoice, there is always next summer for the now extended reading list. On September 1st, instead of thinking bad thoughts about MTA on the subway platform, you will indeed start pulling out that small, friendly volume in your bag and keep reading.

-Nikki-Lee