I know most of the country has been battling mountains of snow this week… But I’m lucky enough to be in California, and Mr. Owlet treated me to a special stay in Elk for a lovely dinner and hours spent reading by the sea.
We were somehow the only two guests at the Harbor House Inn that day, and I have never felt more like a Main Character. It was truly magical – from the most perfect view of the water and striking rock formations, to exploring the seaside in search of sparkling abalone shells, to hours reading by the sea. The service in Elk is atrocious – they warn you on the Inn’s site ahead of time – and that was to the good, as it let us focus on enjoying every moment.
Such a perfect trip warrants a perfect read to accompany it, and I feel equally lucky with my choice here. A year or so ago, Mr. Owlet got me Three Bags Full, a book about Sheep Detectives. (Apparently he told the store clerk that he needed a mystery that I likely hadn’t read, detailing my expansive reading habits, and this is where they landed.) I’ve been waiting for the right moment to read it, and when I saw the water, the grassy expanse and the steep cliffside, I knew I’d found it.
On sheep, murder, and perspective
Let’s start with a little more about Three Bags Full, which is quite the unique read. Leonie Swann’s debut novel follows a flock of sheep as they solve the murder of their shepherd. And when I say follows the sheep, I mean follows the sheep. While many cozy detective series feature some kind of preternaturally sharp animal (The Cat Who… is one of my favorites), few actually dig into the minds of these heroes. But Swann really leans into the ovine perspective, with all the chaos and randomness that entails.
The result is funny, ironic, and an amazing deconstruction of both detective novels and human society. Funny because Swann’s interpretation of sheep is almost always surprising and entertaining. One memorable example involves the sheep anxiously counting themselves, quite effortfully, only to realize they have no idea how many sheep there should be in the flock; chaos, temporarily quelled during The Count, reigns again. Or the sheep simply not understanding concepts like God, cemeteries, and drugs. I love these moments – of sheep trying to process the world around them filtered through their own priorities and experiences, with quite surprising results. (And I frequently paused to share them out loud with Mr. Owlet, who has the patience of a saint.)
But underlying all the humor is a thoughtful questioning of human assumptions and priorities. Swann has immense skill in describing aspects of society, both large and small, from first observable principles. Her sheep notice elements of nature around them that humans would never, but aspects of religion and law and even jewelry routinely confuse them. And after spending so much time in this alien perspective, I found myself noticing different things about the world around me.
A reset by the sea
If ever there were a setting created for noticing, it’s the back garden of the Harbor House Inn. The inn is best known for its restaurant, which seats only twenty, and typically requires a stay to get a table. The garden is set up perfectly for reading and relaxing, with several fire pits, deck chairs, and benches, all situated so you can forget anyone else exists. The whole thing overlooks a beautiful view of the sea, complete with rather unique rock formations that draw the eye and the mind.
I love being by the ocean, but I don’t remember the last time I’ve seen the same vista through sunset, sunrise, and the bulk of the day. Usually when I’m in a beach setting, I’m stealing moments on the sand between the “real” adventures. But the garden at Harbor House Inn invites you to really take in the view, to enjoy all the little changes in light and mood that come over the course of a day.
Even then, I’m not sure I would’ve really taken it all in without Three Bags Full by my side. Work has been busy, and even with the lack of cell signal, I may have otherwise ended up pulled back to the Dopamine Machine. But reading something with such an unusual perspective forced me to divert my brain from its worn grooves and make mental space for my surroundings.
Two seaside towns, one moment: when settings rhyme
It’s not only the difficulty of sheep empathy that made me appreciate my surroundings, however. It’s also the content of the fictional sheep-ish thought processes. The Irish village of Glennkill, where Three Bags Full takes place, is also a seaside town. The ovine protagonists constantly notice elements of their surroundings that humans might pass over, from the variety of vegetation in their fields to the multitude of scents around them. Swann’s sheep read like open nerves, noticing all the sensory elements of the seaside.
And so it was, as I wandered through the garden and the seaside at Harbor House Inn, I found myself pausing to notice the little things. The huge variety of flowers on the stairs down to the sea. The scents of salt and seaweed once on the shore. The smoky crackle of the fire as we read next to it. The lingering scent of marigold leaf on my fingertips, repeated in the after-dinner tisane.
It’s not just that the book made me appreciate my surroundings more (though it absolutely did). It’s also that the surroundings matched the book. I’ve mentioned elsewhere that I can struggle to visualize when reading; it’s why I found reading history so much more enjoyable when in situ / during my travels. With a read like Three Bags Full, which requires really stretching both empathy and the imagination, I found that being sat in a cliffside green space overlooking the sea really helped bring the story to life. In fact, I’m not sure I would have enjoyed the book nearly as much had I read it ensconced in my city apartment – the cognitive load of imagination may have ended in me DNF-ing; or at least not enjoying it nearly so much. Instead, the two settings rhymed perfectly, the fictional and the real bringing out new elements in the other.
Naturally, a bookstore
It wouldn’t be a California Coast Reading Adventure without a small bookstore, would it? And just as I was finishing up the perfect getaway, we stumbled across Gallery Bookshop in Mendocino, an absolute gem of a bookstore. The selection was thoughtfully curated, with a great combination of both new releases and older stalwarts across both genre and literary fiction. The recommendations were thoughtful, the store bright and airy. And every moment a new member of the community was wandering in – to pick up a book they had ordered, or to ask after a new release. This was more than a bookstore – it was a community hub, and I fell in love. So much so that I expanded by TBR by about 15 books! (You know you’re doing book shopping right when they ask if you want them to hold your growing book pile.)
And then, it was time to drive back to good old San Francisco, refreshed and reset and ready to read. If you had told me when we started the trip that a book about sheep would stand out as one of the biggest enhancements to the experience, I would have laughed. But indeed, Harbor House Inn will forevermore be associated with one of the most unique reading experiences I have ever had.
If you’ve made it this far, thank you for indulging my little reading tangent! We’ll be back to more typical fare next week – and if you have any Valentine’s mystery recommendations, I’d love to hear them.
Until next time, stay cozy, and stay curious!
