20 — sorry I'm late
on 2025
At one point in her diaries, after a few days of silence, Virginia Woolf writes:
“Another lapse in this book, I must confess; but, if I do it against my humour I shall begin to loathe it; so the one chance of life it has is to submit to lapses uncomplainingly.”
It’s the same with me and my letters and my falling into silence. I go quiet sometimes — parfois j’écris, parfois je disparais.
I was looking back on 2025, as you do when things end, and I realised I’ve done a lot. I went climbing with my friends and I read Jon Fosse for the first time. I saw Soulwax and Caribou and Oddisee. I became serious about Pilates and I went to Italy to see my friends getting married. That was lovely. I travelled quite a bit to sunny places. Then someone in my life died, and I got my first ghost. It lives with me now and I keep thinking death is such a confusing thing. Still this year was much gentler to me than previous ones, so I thought I’d tell you about all my favourite things I saw and read and did. Is it too late? I hope you can bear with me.
Books
Small Rain
In my notes I wrote that this is one of those novels of the mind. It’s miraculous how unpretentious this book is. It has so many chances at abstraction and wandering that it could easily get away with being cold and stiff. But it’s not. It is warm and clever, and it might be for you if you can appreciate plotless books and a lot of introspection. I found it wonderful.
Septology
I find it very intimidating to write about Fosse. I think it’s because there are so many clever people discussing his work very precisely and surely. But it took me twenty pages to know that this was for me and I would devour it. And that I did.
There’s something in his writing that reminds me of Knausgård, or maybe it’s something in his way of thinking, how he takes us through memories and pains and trauma. It’s both familiar and exciting. Fosse is famous for his style, which can be peculiar, but I didn’t find it as strange as I’d thought. Everything about Septology makes sense. Just because.
On the Calculation of Volume
There are many small ideas in these books that still linger in my mind. How Balle blends time and space, making time pass through movement. How the writing itself carries the solitude of being the last person in the world, so quiet and light. How we can easily eat up our world if we’re not careful.
Back in September, Solvej Balle gave a talk at Bozar, and it was great. She spoke about coming up with the idea, years and years ago, and how she’s been finding out things about her story and her characters as they reveal themselves to her, rather than forcing them out. I’ve read three books in the series so far, and I love them so much I set a reminder on my phone for when the next one comes out — 59 days to go.
Le Grand Cahier
This is so bleak and ugly. I don’t have the words to write about this book and still make it sound appealing. You sort of have to believe me when I say it’s brilliant, but it will destroy you. Kristóf doesn’t play games. She’s direct and doesn’t flinch at burning our world down. It’s a devastating book, and I often find that books are devastating in gratuitous ways, like why are you doing this to me, what’s the point? But that’s not the case here. This is worth the pain.
My Brilliant Friend
I read all four books and they left a hole in my heart. There’s not much more I can say, I loved this very much.
Persuasion
I read many bad books in 2025, and the only way I found to get me out of that spiral was to pick up something solid. Something my heart loves. Persuasion is my favourite Jane Austen. I feel like Austen is equally witty and clever in this as she is in her other works, but there’s a maturity to Persuasion that feeds my soul. It is patient and kind and just beautiful.
Films
One of my favourite things about Brussels is how often I get to see old films at the theatre. Usually on 35mm film with velvet chairs and a full room. For instance, they played Jaws yesterday at the Cinematek. So I went to the cinema nearly fifty times this past year, and this is how I saw all my favourites, and where I rewatched a few classics.
I have a list up on letterboxd with the best of the best.
Music
‘I was born to swim towards a month ago’. This line has been looping in my head for two months now. I only discovered Cameron Winter this year and it’s been so long since I felt this excited about anything in music. I’ve seen people compare him to Bob Dylan, which is true in a way. But I was thinking more Townes van Zandt and Elliott Smith mixed together. And Ballard. There’s an absurdity to his writing that evokes moods rather than meanings. I love that. I listened to and saw many artists I love this year, but it’s been a long time since something made my mind click like this.
Aside from Winter, I cried and danced and sang along to Geese and Turnstile and Clipse like everybody else.
Games
Videogames are peculiar, I find it very hard to recommend them. It’s almost like you need to connect with them on a higher level, otherwise you just won’t see the point and you’ll get bored easily. At least I do. They can tick all the boxes on paper but that doesn’t mean you’ll like them. This year I played some classics, which tend to be my favourites, and I officially see myself as a gamer after making my way through Baldur's Gate 1. I’m currently playing Animal Crossing to recover from that before I dive into BG2. Here are the best of the best.
Baldur’s Gate I / Fantasy Life i / Pokémon Ruby and Platinum / Blazing Beaks / Fabledom / Final Fantasy I
bisous xx,
catarina
Omg I was at that screening of Jaws! They also played it on Halloween at Cineflagey and it was so much fun! Great post :)