56. The Book You Want Everyone You Love* To Read | Philippa Perry
*and maybe a few you don't
Friends,
If this is your first introduction to Philippa Perry, I highly recommend two of her other books (can be read stand alone, in no particular order.) How to Stay Sane and one of my favourites, The Book You Wish Your Parents Had Read (and Your Children Will Be Glad That You Did).
Philippa is a Sunday Times bestselling author and psychotherapist who has a wonderful advice column in the Guardian1. Her book I’ve mentioned above (How to Stay Sane) was written for the London School of Life.
Over her years as a psychotherapist, Philippa has spotted patterns and learnings in her interactions with people that she generously shares with us in the book. It’s a book I wish I’d had in my 20s and 30s as I can see my own behaviours as a young adult reflected in her stories.
There are absolute gems of learning in here, such as:
How do you find and keep love?
What can you do to manage conflict better?
How can you get unstuck and cope with change and loss?
What does it mean to you to be content?
Are other people just annoying or are you the problem?
Life is all about relationships and the quality of those connections. Whether that's with family, partners, friends, colleagues or most importantly yourself, if you can get those relationships on a functional and even keel, then the other tricky stuff that life throws your way becomes easier to manage.
Recent reads & other media
Adding to my 2024 travel list — A literary-themed trip to Edinburgh. 🏴
On keeping a notebook, by Joan Didion. 📝
"I don’t get rid of them, per se; rather, I set them afloat, in search of new homes." (tis me)
Oversimplified novel synopses. (lol) 🕵🏼♀️
I’ve been thinking about the way, when you walk
down a crowded aisle, people pull in their legs
to let you by. Or how strangers still say “bless you”
when someone sneezes, a leftover
from the Bubonic plague. “Don’t die,” we are saying.
And sometimes, when you spill lemons
from your grocery bag, someone else will help you
pick them up. Mostly, we don’t want to harm each other.
We want to be handed our cup of coffee hot,
and to say thank you to the person handing it. To smile
at them and for them to smile back. For the waitress
to call us honey when she sets down the bowl of clam chowder,
and for the driver in the red pick-up truck to let us pass.
We have so little of each other, now. So far
from tribe and fire. Only these brief moments of exchange.
What if they are the true dwelling of the holy, these
fleeting temples we make together when we say, “Here,
have my seat,” “Go ahead—you first,” “I like your hat.”