A lot of people might be uncertain about what to pack for a week of spiritual reflection at a monastery, but the heroine of Sally Quinn’s new novel, Silent Retreat, doesn’t leave much to chance: she brings theology texts, lacy lingerie, hot curlers, and a vibrator. All of which come in handy when the sexy, motorcycle-driving Archbishop of Dublin shows up at the same retreat to examine his soul—and vow of celibacy. Back in the heyday of The Washington Post’s Style section, Quinn shocked and amused readers with her cheeky coverage of political scandals and newsmakers. Later, she wrote an online column, On Faith. The result is an outré romance featuring vespers, the Trappist theologian Thomas Merton, and spicy—if wordless—sex scenes. (Not all vows are ripe for breaking.) Silent Retreat is a bodice ripper with a fillip of Roman Catholic ritual: a novice ripper. ($28, amazon.com) —Alessandra Stanley

Italy’s Ginori 1735, known for its finely crafted porcelain, continues its collaboration with British artist Luke Edward Hall in Il Viaggio di Nettuno, a playful collection of tableware and gifts inspired by Greco-Roman mythology. The pieces feature Hall’s signature hand-drawn illustrations of sea creatures and mythical gods, finished in sun-washed tones such as Amalfi lemon and sky blue. Each piece brings its own charm, and together they can set an easy tablescape for a sun-soaked Mediterranean lunch. (from $88, ginori1735.com) —Merritt Johnson

The Newt in Somerset is a relatively new but already much-loved British hotel. This summer, it’s getting a dose of heritage, thanks to Burberry, which has been outfitting outdoorsy types since its founding, in 1856. In an homage to its nature-loving history, Burberry is decking the Newt’s halls (so to speak) through August 18. The prevailing theme: Burberry checks—everywhere. They will manifest on golf carts, parasols, a hot-air balloon, and all hidden corners of the estate. They’ll even be mown into the cricket lawn. (TikTokers, you’re welcome.) Before checking out, pop into the boutique and bring the theme home—the checkered swimsuit will be sold alongside hats, umbrellas, outerwear, and other assorted essentials. Country living is looking sharper than ever. (thenewtinsomerset.com) —Ashley Baker

Inside every desk jockey is an artist who’s tearing at the walls, dying to get out. Well, maybe that’s not exactly true. But it is for one man, Clark Winter, who for five decades led global strategy for JPMorgan and Goldman Sachs, and on the side snapped photos of cars with his Leica. Everywhere his work brought him—Italy, China, the middle of America, and so forth—was an occasion to shoot a few rolls of film, telling the story of a life on the road, and the life of the road. If you haven’t heard of Winter, it may be because he doesn’t have the distinctive style of a so-called professional photographer—but what he does have is steadfast devotion to his subject matter. As a longtime friend of the almighty photographer Robert Frank, Winter understood that there was something to a convertible crammed with Shriners, an old couple car picnicking, and a surreal fork in the road somewhere in the cornfields of Ohio—something that gives this new collection of photos, Here to There, published by the Italian art-book publisher Damiani Books, an internal combustion and immortal tread all its own. ($55, amazon.com) —Nathan King

Like a windswept rockabilly guitarist from a parallel universe, David Lynch came from the middle of nowhere and ended up somewhere only he could have imagined. And whether the Blue Velvet director is your thing or not, his offbeat, uncanny style makes his estate—which goes up for auction at Julien’s in Los Angeles on June 18—the stuff of great interest. Here you’ll find the ordinary and the sublime: at least seven different coffee-makers (including a lot of three java-stained, plastic Mr. Coffee machines), exquisite celadon-colored Inca band saws that Lynch used to make furniture; a salmon-colored director’s chair; a Linhof four-inch-by-five-inch camera; a matte-black megaphone that screams bloody murder; a six-foot-by-six-foot framed photo of a nuclear blast from Twin Peaks: The Return, and a console guitar with five necks—something that Lynch designed himself like a limitless Les Paul. The pièce de résistance is a nine-foot-long wooden conference table with an extra leaf, which Lynch made by hand. Our only misgiving is that the whole affair isn’t staged as a tag sale in a suburban driveway rather than as a fancy do in the Peninsula Beverly Hills ballroom. Had that been the case, passers-by could have stopped to contemplate the unusual world we live in, where some eccentric’s fog machine and Roy Orbison records are worth upward of two grand each. Lynch probably would have loved that. (juliensauctions.com) —Nathan King

Richard Ellmann’s James Joyce came out in 1959, and it is still hailed as one of the finest biographies ever written. In fact, it’s so good that Zachary Leader wrote a book about the book. In an admirable feat of literary excavation, Leader goes behind the scenes and reveals not just how the biography came to be but what Ellmann himself was like, as both a family man and as a Northwestern University scholar. It’s a compelling read, whether recounting academic squabbles, the joys and frustrations of research, or, above all, what it is like to live a life with such a singular biographical passion. You don’t need to love Joyce to enjoy Ellmann’s Joyce. ($35, amazon.com) —Jim Kelly