Well readers, January is officially over. If we were ladies who lunched, or Violet Crawley, we might say it’s been a trying time. However, we’re ladies who happy hour with carafes of wine, and we say: it’s #$%@! sucked. We’re searching around every corner for the healing that was promised, only to be plastered to the lamppost like yesterday’s Metro by the snow squall. But in order to heal, we need to experience some pain, right? As Mindy Kaling said in A Wrinkle In Time, “the wound is the place where the Light enters you.” (and if you really think she came up with that, genius as she is, please put your device down and crack open a book).

Here’s what you missed this week, and coming up soon: our last book club meeting, and why DR might fall off a cliff, and the latest from our BFFL Sylvie. It seems like every day I open my email to find a new story about her. Not bitter at all that she didn’t tell me first. Until then, I will be enjoying a glass of wine at a Theater District wine bar before catching a play. It’s going to be a good month; I can feel it already.

• Apparently I’ve been living under a rock, because the All Souls Trilogy is the answer to my desire to reread the Harry Potter books but skip all the teenage angst? Also: is Matthew Goode an actual vampire?
• The Paris Review gives Animorphs (yes, the same one as the Nick TV show) a lovely tribute to its uniqueness and undeniable literary value amongst the other paperbacks sold at the grocery stores in the 90s. And you thought 2019 couldn’t possibly be this weird yet. This is worth the read, I promise.
• Things Davos promises to cure: our world’s greatest political, economic, and social problems. Things it actually cures: TB and writer’s block. Looking up AirBnBs now.
• The answer to many a news junkie and tote bag fanatic’s question: why does the New Yorker website always log you out?
• Apparently, we need to live like women over 50 in order to be happy. So business as usual, you’re saying? Great.

Cheers,

E