Two things: Music and Books. I consume both, and I love both. I also like to combine the two when I can. Typically when I delve into a book, I can tell I really like it when I start labeling it with certain songs. Characters heartbeats will appear in the drums of a bossa nova song. An internal monologue, screaming, is mimicked by the harrowing cries of a punk melody. I like to create my own soundtrack for these books. I love seeing how analytical I can get, seeing how eclectic the playlists become.

I recently finished reading Boulder by Eva Baltasar. The story is narrated by our main character, who is nicknamed Boulder by her lover. Boulder analyzes the love she has for this woman, Samsa, and how that changes upon welcoming their child, Tinna, and confronting motherhood. The story is visceral, at times a little horrifying. It is much more complex than a simple paragraph synopsis, and while I could try and write about the searing heat of Baltasar’s words, I’d rather share a playlist.

When we first meet Boulder, she is dying to leave Barcelona. She lands in South America and makes her way onto a ship where she works as a cook. Right away the readers walk hand and hand with the narrator as she journeys through her own desire, starting with her decision to leave home. 

Songs like “No Use” by Jazzanova featuring Clara Hill and “Everyday” by Yo La Tengo harbor Boulder’s yarning. While Boulder’s narration is pointed, it is also cynical and somber at times. “No Use” does a proper job representing Boulder’s feelings lyrically, but “Everyday” captures the cynicism of the story (which is basically an extended monologue) through its droning melody. 

The urgency doesn’t stop with Boulder’s abrupt departure from Barcelona. Boulder contemplates to the point of exhaustion. Her stream of consciousness piles on top of itself, creating a sense of impending doom. She is an extreme character and Paradise, by Sade,  reflects this. Lyrically, Paradise narrates the perfect relationship, a paradise. But instrumentally, Paradise contains that same sense of doom and urgency as Boulder. The bass and drum combine to form a heartbeat. It’s loud and getting louder, and every so often we hear a drum strike twice like a gavel in court. The song ropes us into its romance while trapping us in something unseen. 

Boulder has a strong desire for something, what that is, we don’t exactly know. Something that will liberate her and feed whatever it is inside her that is hungry. Cheri Cheri Lady, a true classic by Modern Talking, lyrically sets us up to feel a similar passion. Boulder allows her desire to manifest in the form of Samsa, and much of Boulder’ energy eventually ends up going toward Samsa

Let Me Go by Sault captures a similar clamor that exists in Paradise’s rhythm section, however Let Me Go lyrically reflects the quest for liberation that remains constant in Boulder. She enjoys working on a ship, never tied down, never with a permanent address. Though Boulder loses some of this free spirited wanderlust after she meets Samsa, her desire continues breeding inside her, like a virus. It wants to explode from the inside out. Let Me Go has a pounding drumline, similar to Paradise that, if it weren’t for Cleo Sol’s smooth vocals, the song might send an ordinary listener into a panic. 

Sex extracts desire. Desire extracts sex, among other things Boulder explores her own desire through Samsa, but things get muddled. Explanations, all understanding really, pours out all at once with no sieve to filter out the fallacies. When things get muddled in our mind, I image it sounds like submerging your head under water. The sound of your blood pumping in your ears silences everything else. All you have is your body to feel your way through. “Yes Baby Yes” (lyrically appropriate title, I know) repeats the lyrics “oh yes” over and over again. The song intoxicates you in its sauve and sultry instrumentals, the way Boulder becomes intoxicated by Samsa. 

Boulder’s internal monologue only intensifies as we near the end of her story. After the two have a baby, Boulder’s relationship with Samsa dramatically shifts. Her thoughts run wild. “Cherry Chapstick” by Yo La Tengo justly reflects Boulder’s irrationality and spiraling emotions. It’s loud with electric guitars and rambling lyrics. However, there’s also a quietness in Boulder. She feels deeply, yet she speaks up little. She brushes over betrayals and wounds, letting her body float past them. I find Robert Lester Folosm perfect for this form of contemplation, loud inside, practically invisible on the outside. Heaven on the Beach With You is filled with acoustic guitar, as Folosm songs usually are. As ocean waves thrash and slap Boulder in the face, she slowly sinks, silently burying herself below the water’s surface. 

Boulder is enigmatic, it is pure cinema the way Baltasar illustrates Boulder’s imagination. Reading this story isn’t enough. One must plunge into its pages, touch each papers’ sharp edges and listen to the sounds they make as they carefully slice one’s fingers. Boulder’s mind is an entire sensory experience, hopefully this playlist helps in entering it.