The Book Subscription

Catherine Sinclar thought there were far more frugal ways for her mother to admit she didn’t know her. 

A paternity test, for instance.  

But, no, as always mother needed to compensate with cash. And even though Catherine had made her opinion of gift vouchers abundantly clear, – a free pass for the lazy, dull, and uninspired – mother apparently knew best.  

‘Congratulations!’ the email’s subject line read. And then, in shouty, oversized text: ‘Your six-month book adventure is (still!!) waiting for you!!!’ 

Catherine scowled at Barney, her unemployed border collie. Barney huffed knowingly and flopped at her feet. His plush weight pressed comfortingly against her legs.  

A book subscription. 

Mother could’ve just said: “Sorry, I don’t listen when you tell me what genre you read. So, here, I outsourced the problem.” 

Catherine googled the price of the subscription. It was ruinous.  

Typical. 

To be fair though, the gift could have been a homerun if Catherine were allowed to choose the books. Instead, Mother was overpaying for the pretentious literary recommendations of this – she squinted at the email again – Ethan Tan fellow.  

She googled him next.  

Ethan Tan is the owner of Voyager Booksellers, a beloved independent bookshop, and the winner of the 2021 Best Australian Debut Novel Prize. Ethan was shortlisted for the 2022 Crime Writers Award, and his short story, Plot Twist, won the inaugural Solaris Prize. Ethan lives, writes and binge-watches anime above his Potts Point bookshop. His alpha reader is a judgmental cat called Tofu.   

Catherine finished reading Ethan’s bio aloud and snorted for Barney’s benefit. “Sounds like a right twat.” 

She peered at his bio photo suspiciously, examining the floppy-haired, bespectacled man now responsible for her reading. Ethan’s smile seemed far too jolly for someone who fictionally murdered people for a living.  

Nevertheless, it appeared Ethan was the one responsible for compiling the books for his extortionate gift subscription. Or, at least, it was his name on the email signature sending her increasingly insistent reminders to fill out some daft ‘pre-journey questionnaire’ so her first two books could be selected and shipped to her. 

But Catherine didn’t want some overrated crime writer to choose her books for her. And she definitely didn’t want to talk to him about it.  

She texted her mother.  

Catherine: One of the best things about books is that you can enjoy the human experience without having to actually interact with humankind.  

Mother replied instantly with, “Is it, darling?”  and sent her a photo of the ocean. Catherine liked the photo, leaving a little love heart beneath the message. She glanced out the window at her own stretch of cerulean blue and felt a moment of rare connection with her mother.  

Mother: Oh! That reminds me. Aunty Em wants to know if you’ve received a book yet? She was fawning all over that young man at Voyager Books. She made him swear he’d take good care of you 

A work email from the team she remotely project managed distracted her from her mother’s soliloquy. When she picked up her phone again, Mother had progressed from small-talk to guilt-trip without Catherine having to type a word.  

Mother: A pinky promise was involved, Catherine 

Mother: Em would be heartbroken if the only gift she’s ever helped me choose turned out to be a dud  

Mother: :( 

Catherine slipped her headphones off and stretched her tense neck. She sighed. Unfortunately, Aunt Emily was her favourite person. 

Even more unfortunately, this meant she’d have to fill out that daft questionnaire.  

~ ~ ~  

She wasn’t doing it.  

Catherine slapped her laptop shut with a satisfying thud. Barney’s ears perked up and she gave him a nod confirming impending walkies. He trotted to the back door, waiting patiently while Catherine grumbled and pulled on her boots. It took her longer than usual, mostly because she kept pausing to gesticulate her complaints.  

“To say it’s invasive would be underselling it, Barns.” Catherine ripped a bindii from her sock with more hostility than it warranted.  

“Which three emojis do I relate with the most? What plant would make the best conversational partner? Which insect would I swap lives with?” Catherine repeated each question, increasingly more vexed. “It’s outrageous. Is this a book subscription or a job interview?” 

She finished de-burring her sock and shot Barney a savage look. “We have to tolerate a lot of stupid shit in life, Barns, but this isn’t one of them.” 

Catherine slid the screen door open, and Barney launched outside, startling a pack of grazing pademelons. They thumped away and glared at him from a safe distance. Barney's tail wagged. Catherine followed him out, pausing to tip her face up to the sky. The warm sunlight countered the cut of the chilly sea breeze and Catherine let it wash away the frustrations of the day.  

~ ~ ~ 

The next morning, an email awaited her.  

Catherine, vulnerably bleary-eyed and uncaffeinated, was startled enough to trip on her slipper while reading the email on her phone. Barney stole her slipper and raced down the hallway. She’d probably find it hidden in a pot plant later. 

Ethan bloody Tan.  

He wrote:  

I understand you’re busy, and not to add any pressure, but it’s been two months since your subscription was scheduled to start... and I fear your books may be developing abandonment issues 🙁 

Why don’t you want them, Catherine??? 😢 

Good lord. Did he think he was cute?  

Catherine deleted the email. 

 ~ ~ ~ 

A few hours later, Catherine was watching Barney battle seaweed when her phone chimed.  

Mother: Darling, are you okay? 

Catherine frowned, tugged from her worries about an impending deadline. She replied affirmatively and waited.  

She didn’t have to wait long.  

Mother: Your bookseller is demanding proof of life. It seems he’s convinced you’ve been mauled by a murderous animal and your remains lay undiscovered amidst that untamed wilderness you call home 

Catherine was contemplating her response when another message arrived.  

Mother: Send me a picture of you and that incorrigible canine of yours so I can confirm you are my daughter  

Catherine: You think murderous animals can text? 

Mother: Catherine.  

Catherine called Barney over. He shook, splashing Catherine with sand and salty sea water. “Selfie, Barns,” she commanded, crouching, and Barney immediately sat in front of her, baring his teeth for the camera.  

Barney counter surfed, raided the trash, and had the recall of a pebble, but the dog knew how to smile.  

Catherine checked the photo. Her pale blonde hair was loose and wind-messy, dark roots revealing regrowth she’d have touched up months ago back in Sydney. Her cheeks were flushed from sun and the short, downhill hike to the beach bordering her property. She searched for the familiar sight of bloodshot eyes and undereye bags but came back empty-handed.  

It was a version of herself she was still getting used to.  

She sent the photo and received a sharp lecture on not wearing enough sunscreen, - “Those freckles, Catherine!” - then mother stopped replying.  

Catherine led Barney back to the sea and let the waves tickle her toes while he frolicked. She kicked her foot out, splashing Barney playfully.  

The bookseller had contacted her mother.  

Surely that was a violation of some policy? Protocol? Boundary?  

When she returned to the cottage, she sent him a strongly worded email that began with, “You told on me? Really?” and ended with, “I’ll have a list of books to you soon.” 

~ ~ ~  

A few hours later, at a time most irregular for a bookseller, Ethan responded with a winking emoji and, “Ah ha! She lives. Barney is adorable, btw. But I think you’ve misunderstood the point of book recommendations, Catherine.”  

There was an entirely unnecessary P.S. that added: “Tell me ONE thing you enjoy. That’s all I need.” 

Mother was incorrigible.

Catherine supposed that’s what you get when you put a writer in charge of a bookshop.  

~ ~ ~  

She replied after midnight with six carefully selected books – one for every month of her subscription.  

~ ~ ~ 

The package from Voyager Books arrived the following Monday.  

Ethan had gotten the hint after her last email and she hadn’t heard from him since, not even to confirm her book selections. Wildly unprofessional, she decided. Probably hideously entitled from a lifetime of being coddled and told he was special. It was those brown puppy dog eyes. Only a monster could kick a puppy, and it seemed Ethan Tan had yet to encounter the world’s monsters. 

She used the sharp edge of her scissors to slice the box open. Inside were two book-sized parcels wrapped in brown paper and twine ribbon. Atop a stamped Voyager Books postcard there was a large bar of chocolate; one of those fancy ones from a proper chocolatier that was sprinkled with rose petals and sea salt. Snuggled in the corner of the box was a bottle of red wine.  

Well. That was nice. One of his assistants probably packed it for him. She set the chocolate and wine aside and carefully unwrapped the presents. And they did feel like presents. Maybe she’d been unfair on Mother. Books, no matter the source, were always a gift. A tingle of unexpected joy fluttered in her chest.  

Then she saw the titles.  

‘Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow’ by Gabrielle Zevin.  

‘A Deadly Education’ by Naomi Novik.  

Those were not the titles she’d chosen. That she’d ever have chosen. Fiction? A kid’s book? She must have received the wrong parcel. She searched the box for a packing slip, but there was nothing but confetti. Idly, she flipped the postcard over, wondering if she’d have to ship everything back to Voyager. Catherine already dreaded it. She glanced down and noticed the sprawled words on the back of the postcard. 

Catherine!! 

Try these. Trust me.  

Yours,  

Ethan :) 

Trust him? An overenthusiastic, over-applauded crime writer with a history of questionable exclamation mark usage? No, thank you. Now that she knew the books weren’t a mistake, she could set them aside and donate them to the little free library in town. And if Mother asked her how the book subscription was going, she’d simply lie.  

~ ~ ~ 

As circumstances would have it, Mother wasn’t the only one Catherine had to lie to.  

Three weeks later, Catherine was staring out her window, trying to catch the leaves of her Claret Ash in the act of transforming from green to autumnal red, when an email from Ethan Tan arrived.  

The email itself was unsurprising. What was nonplussing was the way she eagerly leant forward, unbidden. 

‘Catherine,’ the email read. ‘Are you enjoying the books?’ 

There was a pause while she considered complaining that he’d completely ignored her list. Instead, she wrote: 

They’re great.  

Regards,  

Catherine 

She reread her message. Added a begrudging ‘thank you’.  

Ethan: You didn’t read them, did you? 

A reluctant smile tugged at her lips. She decided to be honest.  

Catherine: No, they look terrible. 

He replied with a wall of laughing emojis. Then: 

Ethan: Read three chapters of Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow.  

Catherine: No. It sounds insipid. Didn’t you see my list? I read fantasy. Adult fantasy.  

Ethan: It’s about a group of friends that develop a popular video game. You enjoy gaming!  

Catherine: I never told you that.  

Ethan: You’re right – your aunt did!! We both think you’ll love it. Ok, tbf, we have a bet. She thinks you’ll hate it. I think you’ll rate it and appreciate it for it what it is. 

Catherine: And what is it? 

Ethan: You’ll have to read it and find out. 😉  

Catherine tapped a finger against her bottom lip.  

Another email arrived.  

Ethan: Look, if you hate it, I’ll send you another book. For free.  

Catherine: And if I hate that one? 

Ethan: I’ll stick to your list  

Catherine was loathe to admit it, but she was a little intrigued.

‘Three chapters’ she wrote.  

Then she closed her emails and padded into the kitchen to make spaghetti.  

~ ~ ~ 

Catherine placed the book on her bedside table. Turned off her light. Stretched out in the dark, Barney’s warm body tucked against her side.  

She had a work deadline tomorrow.  

Today.  

The sun would be up soon.  

“That little twat,” she whispered, staring up at the shadowy ceiling.

~ ~ ~  

Catherine: I hated it.  

Ethan: The first three chapters? 

Catherine: No, the whole book.  

Ethan: OMG if you stayed up all night, you LOVED it!!!  

Ethan: You’re welcome.  

Catherine: I hate you.  

Ethan: Ha! Brilliant. Alright, ready for the next one??? 

Catherine: The children’s book? 

Ethan: Young adult. Very different. It’s not a picture book, Catherine. It’s a masterpiece. Plus!! It’s fantasy!! It’s about a murderous magic school. Right up your alley.  

Catherine: Does it have a happy ending?  

Ethan: 😉 

Catherine: WHAT DOES THAT MEAN, ETHAN? 

~ ~ ~  

Work was busier than usual over the next few days, so it took Catherine until the very end of the weekend to finish ‘A Deadly Education’.  

She reached for Ethan as soon as the final page was turned.  

Catherine: What was that ending? 

Ethan: A cliffhanger, Cat!! Did you love it? 

The nickname made her pause. She decided she’d allow it.  

Catherine: It was okay. 

She’d loved it.  

Catherine: There’s a sequel. Will that be in a future delivery? 

Ethan: Nope. I’ve introduced you to the series, now it’s time to try something new 

Catherine didn’t hate the idea. Anything other than fantasy tended to disappoint her. But maybe, maybe with Ethan choosing... maybe there was still pleasure to be found in other places. 

~ ~ ~ 

Somehow, emailing him became a habit. The brief pauses in her day that used to feel empty were now filled with playful banter (Ethan), far too many exclamation marks (also Ethan) and a wary but captivated enjoyment (Catherine).  

Ethan: So, tell me: why did you move from Sydney to an island everyone forgets is even part of Australia??? 

After covid, she’d had little interest in co-existing with the unwashed masses. To be fair, things had been disastrous even before the virus had locked her down in a tiny apartment with her ex. The press had been hounding her non-stop, and the weight of being the disappointing Sinclair heir finally crushed her. So, she fled the city, and purchased a plot of land in Southern Tasmania. 

Catherine: Peace. 

Ethan: Did you find it??? 

Catherine watched the sea alchemise into gold under the day’s fading sunlight. A honeyeater flitted past, singing, while frothy waves licked Barney’s paws as he trotted off on his eternal quest for the perfect stick. 

Catherine: I did.  

But there were times she wondered what it’d be like to share it with someone other than Barney. 

~ ~ ~ 

In the third month of her book subscription, Ethan sent her a hardcover edition of Leigh Bardugo’s ‘Six of Crows’. Catherine devoured it in one weekend and finally confessed to Mother that her gift was a hit. 

In the fourth month, after she’d complained to Ethan about recurring nightmares, she’d received ‘DallerGut Dream Department Store’ by Miye Lee. Her bad dreams had stopped.   

Catherine: I’m surprised you haven’t sent me your book yet  

Ethan: HA – yet!! Nah, I won’t torture you with that 😉  

That decided it. Catherine requested his debut novel be sent as her fifth book. He resisted. She firmly demanded. In fact ... She let her toothbrush rest in her cheek as she typed out: “A signed copy, thank you.” 

~ ~ ~  

Catherine cradled Ethan's novel, its spine firm against her palms. Opening this book felt like crossing an invisible threshold. A risk.  

After four months of consistent email contact, she was fairly certain he could write well. But what if he had penned a complete dumpster fire? 

Then again, she had mused, what if it was so wonderful she couldn’t talk to him because he was no longer Ethan-who-annoyed-her-every-day, but some other, esoteric Ethan she didn’t understand?

The thought troubled her.  

What she hadn’t predicted was that Ethan would be so unapologetically needy that he’d completely counteract the intimidating wonderfulness of his work.  

Ethan: Which chapter are you up to?  

Ethan: Do you like it so far? 

Ethan: Did the part about toxic mushrooms make you laugh? 

Ethan: Cat!!!  

Catherine: Leave me alone 

Ethan: Have you met Ace yet? 

Catherine: I’m muting your emails 

~ ~ ~ 

At 3.14am, Catherine messaged Ethan. He was awake, awaiting her verdict.  

Catherine: I understand why you won an award 

Ethan: OMG. You read SO SLOWLY 

Catherine: I finished it in a day, Ethan 

He sent her a grinning selfie with his cat. The cat appeared displeased.  

Ethan: Tofu is so happy you liked it :) 

Catherine rolled her eyes. Saved the photo.  

Ethan: Ever been tempted to write a book??? 

Catherine: Books are like food: they’re better if someone else makes them. 

She shuffled closer to Barney, borrowing his courage.  

Catherine: Especially if that someone is you. 

Then, because it didn’t count in the dark, Catherine googled Ethan again. She fell asleep tracing the angles of his face.  

~ ~ ~ 

Ethan: Your subscription ends next month. Excited??? 

The thought made her tummy roil unpleasantly. She wasn’t ready for it to end. So, she decided, it wouldn’t. They wouldn’t.  

She booked a flight to Sydney. Then, hands shaking, she sent a screenshot of her ticket to Ethan. 

Catherine: How about I collect my final book in person? 

The 180 seconds it took to receive his response felt like a lifetime. She was feverish. Jittery. Trembling. 

She refreshed her email. Leant in.  

Ethan: Catherine Sinclair, I think that is the best possible way for you to admit you’re in love with me.