I realize my writing here has tapered off after fifteen very active years; it's been a tricky space to navigate as my kids get older and the nature of how I write about us has changed. I guess that's my way of saying it's been a tough time. I've also been working on a few other projects -- but I'm still writing, just not here as much. Still! I'm not ready to abandon this space, even if Judy Blunt claims that blogging is "lazy writing." Who asked her?
Anyway, this is one of my favorite entries to post. 2023 may have been difficult, but the reading was rich, and reading is still how I survive, try to understand, and sometimes escape this strange world.
Ron Charles at the Washington Post described this book as "a shocking and shockingly funny story about lynching in America...presented as a contemporary crime story slathered with a thick gravy of absurdist comedy." And it is that. I couldn't put it down and it left my head spinning. It's dark, to be sure, but it is also "shockingly funny" and sharp and brilliant.
Body Work: The Radical Power of Personal Narrative, by Melissa Febos
An excellent book for both writers and readers: accessible and important. Our stories matter.
In the Distance, by Hernan Diaz
I'm not sure I would have read this if I hadn't read and loved Trust, but I'm so glad I did, because it might have made my list of Favorite Books. And I know that's probably a long list, but this book will sit quietly on my heart for a very long time. I kept going back and underlining passages, even days after finishing. It is simply that good, that soul-stirring.
We, by Yevgeny Zamyatin
This came onto my radar as a possible work in translation to teach in my IB Literature course, but I had never heard of it until a few years ago -- and not only did it inspire Orwell to write 1984, but Ursula K. Le Guin called it the finest science fiction novel that had yet been written. Science fiction isn't, as a rule, my favorite genre, but when Ursula K. Le Guin speaks, I listen. I found this story to be wholly immersive and engaging, possibly because it seemed to walk a fine line between brilliance and "could imagine this as a super hokey movie." Which is to say, I enjoyed it quite a lot. The bits about poetry and music resonated in particular, as well as the humanity of our narrator known only as D-503.
All This Could Be Different, by Sarah Thankam Mathews
I loved this book more and more with every page. It's just so deeply human. Sad, funny, lonely, poignant -- and all in absolutely crackling prose. This book feels alive; there's no other way to say it.
Lost & Found, by Kathryn Schulz
I can already tell you this will be at the top of my favorites for the year; Schulz delivers some of the most beautiful writing about love and grief and wonder that I have ever read. I'm not sure I've ever read something--other than, perhaps, by Brian Doyle--that makes me feel so deeply grateful to just be alive to experience, to want to notice and hold each moment.
Migrations, by Charlotte McConaghy
Set in a near future where the planet has seen the extinction of most of its wildlife, this story follows Franny Stone, an intriguing narrator with a mysterious past who sets out to track what she believes is the last migration of the few remaining Arctic terns. It's a quiet book, and a melancholy one, but even though the subject is so dark, it's also, always, a love story, a story about how grief and love are always entwined. Somehow it's the love that lingers for me.
Embrace Fearlessly the Burning World, by Barry Lopez
I began reading these essays on the shore of Lake McDonald in Glacier National Park, and after a long break, finished them on a gray Sunday morning in Washington. I think both were the right places and times to be reading Barry Lopez, who calls us to pay attention and "not to give in to the temptation to despair." So much heart, beauty, and wisdom in this book, so much care, and ultimately a call for each of us to pay attention to who we are in community with each other and with this planet.
Barracoon: The Story of the Last Black Cargo, by Zora Neale Hurston
I enjoyed this book more when I stopped expecting it to be like Their Eyes Were Watching God. Zora Neale Hurston was a brilliant writer, but she was also an anthropologist and collector of folklore, and this story belongs to Cudjo Lewis, one of the last survivors of the Clotilda--the last known slave ship to arrive in the United States. Hurston interviewed him in 1927, though this book wasn't published until 2018. It's a powerful narrative, and I read it in a day.
Maps of our Spectacular Bodies, by Maddie Mortimer
I wasn't sure this was the right time for me to read this book, but as it turns out, it went straight to my soul in a way I very much needed. The novel is poetic and innovative in a way that feels brilliant and brave (rather than precious and too aware of itself), and although this won't be everyone's cup of tea, I absolutely loved it. I will think about these characters and this story for a long time.
Solar Bones, by Mike McCormack
Marcus Conway is dead, although he doesn't seem to realize it, and so we meet him at his breakfast table on All Soul's Day and fall into his thoughts as he reflects on his life: his grown children's lives, his marriage, family and work and politics, and the gratitude to be found in the simplest moments. A turkey sandwich and a cup of coffee, the feel of one's hand on a beloved's fevered brow.
As soon as I read the jacket I knew this was a book I wanted to read, but I put it off for so long; I think I thought it would require more work than it actually did. And anyway, this specific time in this specific month is exactly when I needed to read it. For a book written in a single sentence, it was surprisingly easy to read; I fell into the rhythms of the narrator's thoughts and found the story easier to follow than I might have expected. I was willing to work at this book when I picked it up, but as it turns out, it was lovely just to be carried by it.
Wholehearted Faith, by Rachel Held Evans
This book feels impossible to rate - or it doesn't seem fair to rate it. This was very much a work in progress when Rachel Held Evans died.
I put off reading this because I didn't want to read the last words she will leave to us; however, it was the right time, and those searching for her spirit will find it here. I miss her.
Boys and Oil: Growing Up Gay in a Fractured Land, by Taylor Brorby
It's difficult for me to be objective about this book because it resonates so deeply -- all of Brorby's evocations of the North Dakota prairie and all the landscapes I loved when I was growing up in Montana or driving home from Concordia College. The way he writes about home, and his need to leave it for his own survival. His family, and the way he still manages to write about them with such tender sorrow when he rightfully could have chosen rage. As a proud mama of an openly queer child, and as someone who will likely never again live in my home state, my heart broke again and again to read about the way his parents responded to the simple fact that their son was gay. And at lines like this:
Television shows provide a comforting illusion that life progresses, that we no longer need to live in fear.
But we do. We do live in fear.
I Have Some Questions For You, by Rebecca Makkai
This book was absolutely everything I wanted over Spring Break! A well-written literary mystery that includes podcasts, true crime tropes, our problematic fascination with murdered women, and a boarding school in the woods. I loved it.
The Speckled Beauty: A Dog and His People, by Rick Bragg
Warm, humorous, poignant -- as a memoir about a terrible dog should be.
Bonus: The dog is still alive at the end of the book.
The Faraway World: Stories, by Patricia Engel
I loved Patricia Engel's novel Infinite Country, so I picked up her collection of stories about the Latin American Diaspora as soon as I could, and they delivered what I love about her writing -- a hook every time (every chapter, every story has such a great beginning), characters that reveal so much about what it means to connect with other people (whether they are family or lovers or strangers), and the ability to convey such complex stories so smoothly in a few pages.
Manifesto: On Never Giving Up, by Bernardine Evaristo
I loved Girl, Woman, Other, so I was eager to read Evaristo's memoir -- though it really does read more like a manifesto than a memoir (and is stylistically much different than her poetic prose fiction). I especially appreciated the section on her writing process.
Writer in a Life Vest: Essays From the Salish Sea, by Iris Granville
Spending a year as a Writer-in-Residence on the Interisland route of the Washington State Ferry System sounds like my ultimate dream.
I loved these essays for their reminder to stay present, to stay hopeful (because hopelessness leads to inaction, and we can't afford that), and to remember the interconnectedness of everything.
This is Happiness, by Niall Williams
This is one of the loveliest, most immersive novels I have ever read. If you're looking for a fast-paced plot, you won't find it here - but the characters are so warmly drawn in all their ordinary humanity, and I kept reaching for my pen to underline and bracket lines I loved. When I settled into the music of the prose, I wanted to stay there until I turned the last page.
The Teachers: A Year Inside America's Most Vulnerable, Important Profession, by Alexandra Robbins
This was a tough one for me to read, because it felt that raw. Especially in this post-pandemic but increasingly frightening era of teacher blaming while the demands keep piling on.
If you aren't a teacher but someone you care about is, or if you have kids, or if you believe that education matters, or you want to know how you can actually support the folks working with our kids in a system that makes this increasingly difficult and demoralizing, I want you to read this.
Crazy Brave, by Joy Harjo
My first introduction to Joy Harjo was in the poetry section of Tattered Cover in Denver at the tender age of 16. Until then, I hadn't been in a bookstore bigger than B. Dalton in the mall. A woman with long silver hair and a long skirt was reading aloud to her friend, and I'll never forget the poem: "She Had Some Horses." Decades later, I've introduced Harjo to my seniors. Read her poetry, read her memoirs, follow her on social media.
Nightbitch, by Rachel Yoder
Weird and brilliant and PERFECT to read around Mother's Day. Yoder took a risk with this one and it worked so well.
Floppy: Tales of a Genetic Freak of Nature at the End of the World, by Alyssa Graybeal
I loved every word of this. It's a memoir about a very specific chronic illness, but it's also a story about so many other things: navigating the sometimes tricky territory of family, place, relationships, and identity. It does what all good stories do: it holds up a mirror to our own experiences and asks us to grapple what it means to be human.
Ongoingness: The End of a Diary, by Sarah Manguso
Manguso's writing is gorgeous, and I love the concept of this book, but I should have read it in one sitting instead of in bits and pieces over weeks.
Little Earthquakes, by Sarah Mandel
This memoir of a woman diagnosed with cancer while she is pregnant with her second baby is difficult to rate but deserves a readership.
The Only Survivors, by Megan Miranda
A fun and atmospheric mystery/thriller of the sort I always reach for at the beginning or the end of a school year, consumed in a single weekend. I'll forget the details quickly, probably, but it delivered what I needed. (Recommended if you also understand what I mean!)
You Could Make This Place Beautiful, by Maggie Smith
A memoir-in-vignettes that works beautifully. I didn't think a memoir about divorce would speak so beautifully to my soul, but here we are.
Once There Were Wolves, by Charlotte McConaghy
I read this in twenty-four hours and it made me feel absolutely everything. Charlotte McConaghy is a wonder.
Mercury Pictures Presents, by Anthony Marra
Everything about Anthony Marra's writing delights me. It's just brilliant: his characterization, his sentences, his poignancy and wit. He reminds me a bit of Amor Towles in that way; no matter what story he's telling, I'll follow it anywhere.
Wolfish: Wolf, Self, and the Stories We Tell About Fear, by Erica Berry
This was so much more immersive than I expected it to be, and also so different than I expected, which I think was a deep-dive into learning about wolves. It wasn't that. It was a braided memoir (a format I love when it works, and I think it works here), different threads weaving together to form a whole I found more compelling than the one I thought I was looking for.
I Am Homeless If This Is Not My Home, by Lorrie Moore
This has Lincoln in the Bardo vibes, but it's also distinctly Lorrie Moore. I'm not sure how to describe it; a love story? A story about grief and loss? A road trip? A story of a man's dying brother and his (probably?) dead girlfriend? It's a strange one, but I love Lorrie Moore, and she can make strange work.
Razorblade Tears, by S.A. Cosby
Didn't fall in love with the writing and it felt a bit too didactic at times, but! The plot was compelling and it was so fast-paced I devoured it in a day. I can absolutely see it working well as a movie (apparently it's going to become one) and I will absolutely watch it.
Open Throat, by Henry Hoke
I loved this beyond what I can express: the poetry and wit and deep grief and loneliness and longing. I physically didn't want to put it down when I finished; I just sat with it for awhile. (I know.) So many lines caught in my heart that I keep reaching for it just to find them and feel the ache again.
The Death of Vivek Oji, by Akwaeke Emezi
Akwaeke Emezi is brilliant. I was completely captivated by their first novel, Freshwater, but this one just pierced straight to my core. I think it's structurally a more traditional novel, but their prose just soars; it hits all the right notes of beauty and devastation. And even though the devastation is foretold from the first page -- from the title, even -- there was so much warmth and tenderness in this story, even inside so much misunderstanding and separation, and that's the heartbreak of it.
Not So Perfect Strangers, by L.S. Stratton
When a particularly challenging student finds this book on her own and buys a copy for you because she enjoyed it and she wants you to read it too, you just...do. It's okay if you skip this one.
A Room With a View, by E.M. Forster
I had to pick this up after reading Sarah Winman's Still Life, which was one of my favorite books last year. I enjoyed it as much as I hoped.
In the Dream House, by Carmen Maria Machado
I cannot overstate both the brilliance and the importance of this book.
Tom Lake, by Ann Patchett
My very favorite Patchett novel so far. That's all.
Walk the Darkness Down, by Daniel Magariel
As bleak as I expected, as brilliant as I hoped.
Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, by Gabrielle Zevin
This is not a book I thought I would read; my to-read list is long and always growing, and I've barely ever played video games in my life besides Super Mario Bros, DuckTales, and, yes, Oregon Trail. But I had a bunch of credit at my favorite new and used bookstore and for some reason, on this particular Sunday morning when I stopped in after brunch, I gave this book another look and walked out with it for, like, four dollars. Had I known how much I would love it, I would have gladly paid full price; this is one of my "Buy it in hardcover so I can literally hug it" books. I wasn't expecting to fall so hard for the characters, or to be so immersed in the story. And while I may not have thought I cared about the gaming, I cared a lot about the way Zevin wrote about it as creative work. It's a book about everything, really. Too much? Imperfect? Maybe. But it was pretty near perfect to me.
Old God's Time, by Sebastian Barry
I mean, this book is why we read.
(Plus, it's a crime novel with beautiful sentences and an unreliable narrator. I'm all in.)
Wellness, by Nathan Hill
This didn't quite reach the soaring heights of The Nix for me, but it was still awfully fun to read.
North Woods, by Daniel Mason
This rather haphazard novel of different voices follows the inhabitants of a little house in the woods of western Massachussetts throughout centuries, beginning with a couple fleeing their Puritan colony and it is Perfection. One of my favorites of 2023.
All the Sinners Bleed, by S.A. Cosby
His books are perfect for those weekends when I want something plotty, a little thrilling, and provocative. I liked Razorblade Tears better, but this was close.
Happiness Falls, by Angie Kim
I read this in a weekend, hooked after the first line: "We didn't call the police right away." We learn immediately that the husband and father of the family at the center of this story has gone missing, and the only witness is the Eugene, the youngest child in the family, who has Angelman's Syndrome and cannot speak to tell anyone what happened. What follows is a mystery, but this is no formulaic psychological thriller. There are many threads to this story -- the pandemic, the impact of having a child with special needs, the secrets we choose to share and the secrets we choose to withhold -- and I enjoyed becoming so fully immersed in this story of family, love, race, and the power of language to connect us.
The Glass Castle, by Jeannette Walls
I waited far too long to read this. I'm using it as part of a memoir choice unit with my seniors and I can't wait to talk about it with them.
If I Survive You, by Jonathan Escoffery
I loved this collection of interconnected short stories, described by NPR as "an intensively granular, yet panoramic depiction of what it's like to try to make it — or not — in this kaleidoscopic madhouse of a country."
Democracy Awakening: Notes on the State of America, by Heather Cox Richardson
This is required reading. I actually listened to this AND bought the hardcover. Do yourself a favor and subscribe to her Substack or follow her on Facebook for her daily newsletter. It's so much better than doom-scrolling, I promise, and I deeply appreciate how she puts today's current events in a historical context -- one my high school education certainly left out in any meaningful way.
Here are my audiobooks for 2023:
Trust the Plan: The Rise of QAnon and the Conspiracy that Unhinged America, by Will Summer
Unhinged America is right.
I'm Glad My Mom Died, by Jennette McCurdy
This was better than I expected it to be, especially considering I'd never watched iCarly. McCurdy's story is poignant and well told, and I appreciated hearing it in her voice.
You Just Need To Lose Weight and 19 Other Myths About Fat People, by Aubrey Gordon
If I haven't recommended the podcast Maintenance Phase to you, are we even friends? I'll read anything with Aubrey Gordon's name on it. The audio is great for this one because I already love her voice.
Hey, Hun: Sales, Sisterhood, Supremacy, and the Other Lies Behind Multi-Level Marketing, by Emily Lynn Paulson
I didn't want to wait for the library book, so I listened to this one even though I don't usually enjoy audiobooks...well, I couldn't stop listening to this one. I have a lot of thoughts, but I want to tread carefully, because when I started counting how many folks I know personally who are or have been (almost entirely past tense now) involved in MLMs, I listed over 20 when I stopped. I deeply care about many of those people still. I'm still pretty cranky about the FIRST hun to pretend to want to get coffee and catch up (it was totally the stereotype of the high school acquaintance I never really hung out with while we were actually in high school). In the last few years, though, I've watched some friends fall in deep with everything Emily Lynn Paulson writes about here, and she hits it all. White supremacy, conspiracy theories, purity culture, diet culture, toxic positivity, SO much shaming...an endless list of harm. She uses a fake name for the company she was with, and I think the takeaway is that it doesn't matter which one she was with, because they are all the same: predatory and toxic.
Remarkably Bright Creatures, by Shelby Van Pelt
I normally don't listen to "literary" fiction that I'd rather read in a physical copy, but I had hours on the road last summer and this one just called to me. It's wonderful, and it brought me to tears somewhere around Lookout Pass as we left Montana. If you enjoyed A Man Called Ove, you'll appreciate this one.
Poverty, by America, by Michael Desmond
After reading Evicted I'll read anything Michael Desmond writes. I might have enjoyed the physical book more than the audio in this case.
Sensitive: The Hidden Power of the Highly Sensitive Person in a Loud, Fast, Too-Much World, by America, by Jenn Granneman and Andre Sólo
This didn't teach me much I didn't know about myself, but it was a validating read. I'm perfectly okay with being a Highly Sensitive Person.
The Woman in Me, by Britney Spears
Literary this ghostwritten memoir is not, but I listened on a road trip to Idaho and it reaffirmed my stance that Britney has been grievously wronged for pretty much her whole life. I'm glad she's finally getting the chance to have her say -- she deserves that and more. And for the record, I really like her.
Class: A Memoir of Motherhood, Hunger, and Higher Education, by Stephanie Land
I think this book could have benefited from a bit more editing, but I appreciate Land's honest portrayal of how difficult it is to survive as a poor single mother, especially when every choice you make is scrutinized. The comments under reviews of her book prove my point. If you enjoyed her first memoir I'd recommend this one as well. (She definitely has her say here, especially in calling out a few professors at the University of Montana. I kinda want to high-five her, though. Oof! Judy Blunt! I loved your book, but the judgmental gatekeeping isn't a good look.)
My reading list for 2024 is in full bloom already, beginning with My Monticello by Jocelyn Nicole Johnson and Sun House by David James Duncan. As always, I believe reading matters beyond entertainment (though reading for entertainment is also valid and wonderful), and I'd love to see your lists too.
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