A Commonplace Book of Summer
Summer has always been my favorite time of the year. And so I have always been intrigued by how do others view the summer months. To find out, I did a targeted search for the word “summer” in my commonplace book. Below are a few of the passages I found.


Summer’s lease hath all to short a date.

Hemingway A Farewell to Arms

In the late summer of that year we lived in a house in a village that looked across the river and the plain to the mountains. In the bed of the river there were pebbles and boulders, dry and white in the sun, and the water was clear and swiftly moving and blue in the channels. Troops went by the house and down the road and the dust they raised powdered the leaves of the trees. The trunks of the trees were too dusty and the leaves fell early that year and we saw the troops marching along the road and the dust rising and leaves, stirred by the breeze falling and the soldiers marching and afterward the road bare and white except for the leaves.

Henry James

Summer afternoon—summer afternoon: to me those have always been the two most beautiful words in the English language.

Christopher Wilkins The Measure of Love

I felt like someone feels who spends a bright summer’s afternoon in a dark, smoky cinema, engrossed in some tenebrous gothic drama, only to emerge blinking into a world where it is still broad daylight and where there are shops and children and safety and laughter and people getting on with their lives.

Ann Patchett Bel Canto

In Paris, Simon Thibault had loved his wife, though not always faithfully or with a great deal of attention. They had been married for twenty-five years. There had been two children, a summer month spent every year at the sea with friends, various jobs, various family dogs, large family Christmases that included many elderly relatives.

Colm Toibin The Master

…he could not stop asking himself what he wished for now, and answering that he wanted only more of this—calm days, a beautiful small house and this soft summer light.

J. M. Coetzee Life & Times of Michael K

But most of all, as summer slanted to an end, he was learning to love idleness.

Andre Aciman Out of Egypt

Summers were long in Venice, she said, and there was nothing she liked more some days than to take the vaporetto and ride around the city, or head directly for the Lido and spend a morning on the beach by herself. She loved the sea.

Carol Cassella Oxygen

…Seattle’s spectacularly brief summertime...

Ian McEwan The Child in Time

I don’t remember a hotter summer than this in seventy-four years. It’s hot. In fact, I’d say it was too hot. Stephen said that was better than too wet and his father agreed.

Elizabeth Hawes Camus, a Romance

“In the depths of winter, I finally learned that within me lay an invincible summer.”

Lily Tuck I Married You for Happiness

Anything can happen on a summer afternoon
On a lazy dazy golden hazy summer afternoon

Anita Brookner A Friend from England

One always expects the summer to last for much longer than it does: one forgets the very sensation of being cold.

Natalia Ginzburg The Little Virtues

There are only two seasons in the Abruzzi: summer and winter. The spring is snowy and windy like the winter, and the autumn is hot and clear like the summer.

Alastair Reid Whereabouts: Notes on Being a Foreigner

I do not own a watch and pass the summer without ever knowing the time.

Richard Goodwin The American Condition

Now in Florence, when the air is red with the summer sunset and the campaniles begin to sound vespers and the day’s work is done, everyone collects in the piazzas. The steps of Santa Maria del Fiore swarm with men of every rank and every class; artisans, merchants, teachers, artists, doctors technicians, poets, scholars.

Olah Olafsson Restoration

…summer arrived with the most glorious weather imaginable: hot, sunny days and warm nights.


Linda said...

Interesting passages on summer. The Wilkins quote is intriguing - I may have to read The Measure of Love.

Here's my contribution:

“It seemed to Rosa Lublin that the whole peninsula of Florida was weighted down with regret. Everyone had left behind a real life. Here they had nothing. They were all scarecrows, blown about under the murdering sunball with empty ribcages.”
― Cynthia Ozick, The Shawl

Pretty much sums up my current mood about summer.

Richard Katzev said...

I think you will like The Measure of Love.

I sure like the Ozick passage. I've downloaded The Shawl from the New Yorker where it was first published.

Is your life not real, full of regret?

Linda said...

It feels that way. Hopefully, the feeling will pass. I still feel the decision was the right one. Only time will tell.

Richard Katzev said...

I'm glad you feel it was the right decision. I know it was a very big change.