A few days before my birthday last week, the cool breeze that heralds the beginnings of hot apple cider, witchy films, and all things pumpkin spice blew into London. I know, I know. It’s August. Friends, I have discovered that London summers (minus the heatwave week) are nearly identical to Virginian late Septembers and early Octobers. At first, I thought it was a fluke, a rare day of autumnal weather, like sometimes hits Washington D.C. or Williamsburg around this time of year. But no. Now, nearly mid-August, the autumnal goodness continues apace with cooler days, gusty winds, and even a sky that’s started going that deep, deep blue I associate with October. I’ve started obsessively looking at Halloween arts and crafts on Pinterest, despite knowing – knowing – that it’s still August. My body’s knowledge of how seasons feel and my brain’s logical understanding of the date are out of alignment.
So, to try to combat this far-too-early autumnal mindset, I decided to read Nina Moreno’s debut YA novel, Don’t Date Rosa Santos. The cover looks about as summery as anything I’ve seen, and I read a description that said it was as if Gilmore Girls and Practical Magic collided with Jane the Virgin. I gotta say, that was a very accurate description. If you like any/all of these things, you should probably read this novel. From the first town meeting (yes, really!) in chapter one, to the cast of quirky characters that populate the town, to the bad-for-me-but-so-right romance, to the unexpected beauty of the square on festival night, to the brujería sprinkled throughout the book, I felt like Rosa Santos’ hometown of Port Coral was a diverse Stars Hollow (thankfully populated by less self-entitled characters) with a pinch of Owens’ magic. One of the book blurbs says that this is what Lin-Manuel Miranda would write if he wrote YA, and it does have thematic resonances with In the Heights. Rosa’s always been the perfect student, who suddenly doesn’t know how her future will unfold. Her desire to know her Cuban roots and the secrets kept by her mother and grandmother drive her character development. The whole book had a Floridian late-spring vibe that had me dreaming of humid nights and sundresses, and it ended with more heart than I thought possible in what had, overall, been a fairly light read. I may have held back a few tears on the Tube.
I have to admit, though, as much as I loved reading about night-time boat rides to deserted islands and orange groves just off the highway, it didn’t quite shake my desire for jumpers, apples, and fresh pencils. I’ve still been adding to my ‘October Reads’ shelf on Goodreads and scouring my library for e-copies of old R.L Stine Goosebumps books, for when I need a bit of nostalgic fun this autumn.
Who else has started to hear the siren call of cinnamon brooms and pumpkin-flavored everything? Or is everyone but me still dreaming of seaside holidays and cold lemonade?