Not quite a novel, not quite a short story. Between the two but belonging to neither. Short little books you can read in an afternoon, or on a plane, or at a bus terminal, or on a bumpy ferry ride in northern Norway while trying not to spill your coffee (or your guts) on the erratically undulating floor.

Before this summer, I’d never really considered the novella, gravitating instead towards fantasy epics and big long sagas over these thin little snippets of stories. But recently, while perusing the shelves and wondering where next to tread, I found myself somewhat intimidated by the idea of starting a new book. What if you get halfway through and lose motivation? What if you fall in love with it and it’s your entire world for the next five years?

Starting a new novel is a commitment. A commitment of time, of effort. A commitment to carrying that book around with you for the foreseeable future, inviting it to sit on your nightstand and colour your days until you either love it, hate it, or resign it to the pile of half-read books you’ll “get around to finishing eventually”. One day. Maybe…

But with a novella, there’s none of that pressure.

Coming in at around 100 or so pages, a novella is barely an investment at all. A quick trip to somewhere new, that you don’t have to worry about loving or hating because it’ll be over before you know what’s happening. Long enough to sink your teeth into, but short enough to be over before the weather changes, novellas are the one-night stands of the literary world. Wham, bamn, thank you kind sir, there’s cab fare on the dresser, don’t expect me to call.

Easy to start and easy to finish, give it a few afternoons or a long lazy day, and a novella’s over, lending that little snippet of time its own unique voice, its own colour. A soundtrack picked especially for that moment, promising to whisk you away somewhere unresearched, untamed, and somewhere you’ll only need to tread for a few days before you’re home.

Giovanni’s Room sparked this trend for me this summer. A flippant recommendation by a passing acquaintance that turned into an epic love affair that lasted a single 9 hour plane ride. When I touched down in London, I’d been all the way to 1950s Paris and back, fallen in and out of love, watched a man die, traipsed through Montmartre in the pouring rain, and found a new author to whisper in my ear at three in the morning about the perils of love and loss.

As a first foray into the art of the short novel (sitting at 170 pages, James Baldwin’s classic is technically on the longer end for a novella, but for someone who tends to read 300+ page chonky doorstops, this was about as short as it gets), I was amazed at the speed in which my world had changed. I am used to living in a novel for at least a few months. Getting to know the people, the places, the author and their carefully chosen words. But this was the complete opposite. A wild ride; blink and you’d miss it. A fleeting tryst, a passing affair. Over before I had time to realise it was happening. Poignant and perfect because of its brevity. Because I wanted more, and there was none.

Reeling from this emotional rollercoaster, and lost somewhere between Pigalle Boulevard and Camden High Street, I found the closest bookstore and grabbed a handful of the thinnest books I could find, wanting to jump right back into the magic and see where it would take me this time.

From Edwardian England to post-war Japan, through rural Norway to a future not quite our own– I’ve finished more books in the past three months than I managed to complete all of last year! Some of those books were beautiful. Some were heartbreaking. And some were just ok. But all of them added their own voice and their own unique essence to that specific moment and that specific memory.

Because you’re signing up for an afternoon’s dalliance instead of a 6 month adventure, novellas allow you to tailor your reading to what’s happening in your life right now. To the season, to the holiday, to the week’s chores or the day’s diversions.

The speed at which you can read these stories allows you to really hone in on a specific emotion. A location or a style.  A voice or a time period, which you can swap out for something new before the month’s even over.

Read about the leaves changing while watching the leaves changing. Cosy up in front of the fire while your characters do the same. Just like choosing the right playlist for a lazy afternoon drive, choosing a novella based on a theme or aesthetic can add that extra little flavour to your season. An indulgent pause, the pumpkin spice on your latte, that lasts but a moment, but you’ll remember all the more fondly (or harrowingly) becasue it’s gone before you’re ready to say goodbye.

Consider a short-but-sweet ghost story to accompany the spooky season. Or a local author for your next trip abroad, to get a taste of the country before you even touch down. Hiking through the Andes? Grab a tale about the mountains. Going home for the holidays? Look for something nostalgic and warm.

These stories can capture a moment perfectly. Or send you somewhere completely different you’d never have chosen to go on your own. If it pans out, they can add a little something extra to that memory. Flying to London will forever remind me of a claustrophobic apartment in Paris, and crossing the Arctic Circle will be inexplicably linked with dead Norwegian ferrymen. Little moments, snapshots of lives, jumped into and shed just as fast.

The memory of a time wrapped in the memory of a story.

(And if it doesn’t pan out, you can just leave it at the bus stop for the next traveller to try).

So, if you’re feeling a little stagnant in your current reading choices. A little lost on the path well trodden, or apprehensive about stepping into the next 250’000 word epic, give a couple of novellas a try.

Don’t worry about recommendations. These books are so short it’ll take longer to research a Top 10 list than to just read the damn things. So be a little naughty, and do the thing we’re always told not to do. Judge the books by their covers, grab a handful, no blurb necessary, and settle in for a possibly great, possibly terrible, but guaranteed fast ride, that’ll take you away and back before you even realise you’ve left, and will, at the very least, help you double your ‘read’ pile before the year is out.

---