2024 in Books

2024 brought challenges beyond anything I've faced yet. Reading is an escape sometimes, yes, but it's also how I understand the world, and myself. And as one of my best teachers said, "Reading is how we remind ourselves of our humanity." That feels more important than ever. Here's what I read in 2024:

My Monticello, by Jocelyn Nicole Johnson
If you like Colson Whitehead you'll love Jocelyn Nicole Johnson. This was a tightly-written and powerful collection of short stories and one dystopian novella featuring Thomas Jefferson's old plantation and echoes of the very real "Unite the Right" rally in 2017.

Day, by Michael Cunningham
Has it really been more than twenty years since I've read a book by Michael Cunningham? I devoured The Hours in a single day, long before it became a movie I love. Day had a similar impact on me in that I read it straight through, but twenty years later his prose hits differently -- or maybe it's the subject, or the fact that I'm twenty years older, or recovering from COVID myself as I'm reading a book set on a single day (April 5) spread over three years (2019, 2020, and 2021). The structure worked beautifully, but it's a structure Cunningham always does beautifully. He's just an exquisite writer.

The World and All That It Holds, by Hernan Diaz
In an interview with The Guardian Aleksandar Hemon said, "I don’t have to understand everything in a book. It’s not like a car – not everything has to work. If you are constantly puzzled by the world then you read books that puzzle you." I read this before I actually finished reading the novel, and that line resonates. This is a line I will share with my high school students. This puts into words what I have always felt!

I'm still processing this one, but there's no way I can give this novel fewer than five stars. I'm utterly in awe of Aleksandar Hemon and his use of language, which he says is "the only access to other people's consciousness." Beyond that, the characters, the voice, the history, the love story, and the longing for home (a theme that always resonates with me) made this what I feel sure will be one of the most impactful reading experiences of the year for me.

Girlhood, by Melissa Febos
Poignant, relevant, readable, important.

Sun House, by David James Duncan
In the "Acknowledgements in Four Stories" at the end of the book, David James Duncan wrote that "upon learning the manuscript was 360,000 words long, some of [his] friends laughed and asked who had time for what even [his] esteemed editor called 'this beautiful behemoth' in an age of governance by tweets and 'news' shelled out by logarithms." He replied, "Everybody puking sick of tweet governance and ad-prostituted logarithms." I'm not sure that's why I gulped down this enormous book, but I realized my soul was thirsty for exactly this experience. And that's what it felt like, because while I finished it nearly two months after I began it, I didn't read this slowly; I read it by spending a few weekends fully immersed in it. It felt like diving into a waterfall, entirely awake and alive, senses fully engaged.

This is not a writer who will be remembered for his "spare" prose. David Gates of The New York Times certainly didn't love the novel, and maybe it is preachy and self-indulgent. I don't care. If you loved The Brothers K like I did, this might be for you, but this is not a book I will recommend to someone who has never read David James Duncan. It isn't a book for everyone, and I realize how utterly precious this makes me sound, but I don't want it to be. Reading this book felt so deeply personal and I loved it wholeheartedly. I laughed often and cried just as much (I literally cried through the entire last hour of reading it). It made me feel like there is plenty left in the world to love, no matter how broken the world is.

The Nickel Boys, by Colson Whitehead
Reread before I taught it to seniors. What I wrote when I first read it still stands: Colson Whitehead is a literary genius. I really believe this. I thought The Underground Railroad was brilliant, and his new novel reinforces everything I love about his writing even though it's an entirely different novel. This is the fictional portrayal of a real-life horror: the Dozier School in Florida, a reform school for boys that operated for over one hundred years and brutalized thousands of young men. The story centers around two characters, Elwood and Turner, and I will say only that I fell hard for them both and that I don't want to reveal a single thing about the trajectory of their lives. I read this in two sittings. This is a slim novel, but the huge power of Whitehead's writing lies in as much as what he doesn't say, in the way he can evoke an entire scene with only a glimpse: a single terrifying item, a single sound. It's an important story. Don't look away.

Land of Milk and Honey, by C Pam Zhang
C Pam Zhang is a brilliant writer, and this book is gorgeous. I read the first half in one sitting. But it didn't quite hit for me the way her first novel did; I realized I wasn't eager to pick it up again and finished it quickly mostly so I could move on to something else. (I'll still read anything Zhang writes.)

Let Us Descend, by Jesmyn Ward
It's Jesmyn Ward. Read it.

The Hunter, by Tana French
I know there are plenty of people who just want Tana French to go back to the Dublin Murder Squad, but I have enjoyed all of her stand-alones just as much. Only this one is a follow-up to The Searcher, so not so much a standalone; in fact, I think reading The Searcher is important before reading The Hunter. Anyway, this might be my favorite (although I always think that when I'm still feeling that post-reading high). Pay no mind to the folks who call it "slow." This is Tana French's characterization at her finest, and I was all in from the beginning. I don't know if we're in for more stories with Cal and Trey, but if we are, I'm here for those, too.

James, by Percival Everett
I am rarely drawn to retellings of the "classics." Sometimes they work (Home Fire by Kamila Shamsie and The Chosen and the Beautiful by Nghi Vo come to mind), but often they're not my thing (New Boy by Tracy Chevalier). But I read Everett's The Trees last year and that was all I needed to pick up this one. Gosh, I'm late to this writer -- but better late than never. He is a genius. I really believe this.

I started reading James as our plane took off from DC and finished it twenty minutes before we landed in Seattle. It was a late flight after a long day and I was so tired, but I could not put this down. I suspected this would be the case after I read the very first paragraph. It's brilliant. I mean brilliant. I'm not sure one needs to have read Huck Finn to appreciate what Everett accomplishes with this, but as someone who read Mark Twain's novel for English class in 7th grade, 11th grade, and a college American Lit class and then taught it in my own the year Obama was elected, I was even more blown away. At some point perhaps I'll be able to write more than "This is brilliant and everyone must read it immediately." Hernan Diaz calls it a "canon-shatteringly great book [that] rewrites literary history to let us hear the voices it has long suppressed."I'll be thinking about this for a long time, and I believe this is worth as much shelf space as the "classic" it so beautifully subverts.

Prophet Song, by Paul Lynch
Another dystopian novel I wasn't in the mood for but absolutely hit all the right notes. Nothing about this novel feels unrealistic, and Paul Lynch is a master of language, so here we are.

None of This is True, by Lisa Jewell
I read this in one day at the end of Spring Break, and it was exactly what I wanted -- psychological thriller with unreliable characters, plotty, a little dark and twisty but nothing too gratuitous. The ending was a bit of a mess but whatever, it was a fun read.

The Firekeeper's Daughter, by Angeline Boulley
I honestly don't read a lot of YA these days, but this one was recommended by so many folks I respect (and so many English teachers). I bought it months before I picked it up -- I wasn't sure I wanted to commit to reading such a long YA novel right now. If I'd known how propulsive and well written it was, I would have read it sooner. Once I was in (I wasn't sure I would be in those first few pages), I was all in, and I read the entire thing in two days. And now I'm sure I'll pick up her new novel as well.

Daughter of Mine, by Megan Miranda
I read this as an ARC I "won" on Indie Bookstore Day. It's not my favorite from this author but it delivered what I expected and needed during a really difficult week.

Tracks, by Louise Erdrich
I've had this on my shelf for a long time and was glad to finally pick it up and return to some of the characters in Love Medicine (which will always be one of my favorite books). Nanapush and Pauline Puyat are fascinating narrators, but the story really belongs to Fleur Pillager. I don't know that I'll reread this like I do Love Medicine, but Erdrich's writing always rewards the time I spend with it.

Whiskey Tender, by Deborah Jackson Taffa
Really excellent memoir about growing up caught between Native and White American culture and struggling to find a place in either. I read this book during a time in which it was tough for me to concentrate, so it took a lot longer than it might have. Still, the storytelling reminded me a bit of The Glass Castle (in a good way) and the way Taffa weaves the personal with the political is particularly effective.

Letters to a Young Madman: A Memoir, by Paul Gruchow
Paul Gruchow was a professor at Concordia while I was a student, and I was so excited to take one of his writing courses...and then he showed up on the first day and apologized, telling us that he was not well enough to teach. I don't remember if he told us he would be hospitalized then, but he took his own life just a few years later. This book wasn't published for several years after his death, and it was tough to get my hands on a copy; I can't help but wonder what he would have made this manuscript had he lived. Anyway, it's gutting to me. Worth reading, worth holding, worth having my heart seize over, but utterly impossible to rate.

Then She Was Gone, by Lisa Jewell
I read this in under 24 hours, tried not to guess the twists I knew were coming, and was distracted in the way I sometimes need to be during stressful times of the school year.

The Age of Magical Overthinking: Notes on Irrationality, by Amanda Montell
I really enjoy her voice, first of all.

I read this entire thing over nearly 40 hours in an Emergency Room, and it was exactly what I needed.

Madness: A Bipolar Life, by Marya Hornbacher
I'll be able to review this someday. Absolutely worth reading. Hornbacher's insight into her own psyche is astonishing. This is not a book you read when you want to feel better, but it might help you understand.

Table for Two, by Amor Towles
This was just absolutely so much fun to read. Every time I picked it up I looked forward to being immersed in whatever story Towles was telling.

Alphabetical Diaries, by Sheila Heti
I love absolutely everything about this book. I've never read anything by Sheila Heti before, but the premise hooked me: she took over ten years' of diary entries, arranged the sentences in alphabetical order and kept the ones that worked. It's a fascinating way to approach telling the story of a life, and it works brilliantly. Free from the order of chronology, clear themes emerge: love, work, sex, writing, friendship, travel, self-doubt. I loved sinking into the rhythm of the language every time I picked it up.

Fire Exit, by Morgan Talty
I haven't YET read Night of the Living Rez but after reading Talty's debut novel, I can't wait to go back to it. Fire Exit is a fairly slim novel that covers a lot of territory: belonging, community, identity, family, forgiveness, and the importance of stories, as well as the question of who gets to tell them, and when. I loved it.

There's Always This Year: On Basketball and Ascension, by Hanif Abdurraquib
I am not ever going to pick up a book because it's about basketball, but for someone who cares not much at all for sportsball I've picked up -- and loved -- a surprising number of books about it because they're written in sentences that make me care, and also because they're never really just about basketball. This book is the work of a poet, and I loved it. I couldn't read it without a pen in my hand to underline what resonated.

Home Before Dark, by Riley Sager
Almost two stars because it was fun to read for a day, kind of, clunky writing aside -- but listen, I scare easily, I WANTED to be kind of scared, and all I did was roll my eyes. The ending is what knocked it down to 1.

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!)

Sing a Rhythm, Dance a Blues, by Monique W. Morris
Like I wrote when I read Pushout: The Criminalization of Black Girls in Schools...I wish every educator would read this, but actually, also, everyone who claims to care about what happens in classrooms or everyone with an educator in their life.

A River Runs Through It and Other Stories, by Norman Maclean
It was time I read this. (I highly recommend Kathryn Schulz's article in The New Yorker.)

The Bee Sting, by Paul Murray
Well, it's brilliant and I don't care what anyone says about the ending. I couldn't put this one down and Paul Murray is a genius, the end.

Chain Gang All-Stars, by Nana Kwame Adjei-Brenyah
A lesser author wouldn't have been able to pull this off, but Nana Kwame Adjei-Brenyah is seriously brilliant. And part of that brilliance is writing a book this bleak that somehow manages to be so entertaining at the same time. And I mean this literally; as a reader and as a human, the premise of this story is horrifying and real, and I can't imagine not feeling a little sick from the beginning. It's a brutal glimpse into the US prison complex, and even though it's a future/alternate reality kind of dystopia, it feels absolutely immediate, requiring little imagination to picture this as a current reality. The entertainment factor is the horror, and it's also the point. Giri Nathan writes in The New York Times, "You cannot applaud his debut novel, 'Chain-Gang All-Stars,' without getting blood on your hands. To enjoy the action is to share in the guilt of the bloodthirsty fans sitting ringside at the live-broadcast death matches between prison inmates. Adjei-Brenyah is so good at writing fight scenes that our moral disgust never definitively stamps out the primitive thrill of reading them." I couldn't stop reading once I'd started, I wept at the end, and I thought about my own complicity in the systems that made this book possible all along.

The Last Fire Season, by Manjula Martin
It seems fitting that I read this gorgeously written memoir on a summer road trip from Washington through Idaho and Montana, where smoke hung in the air every day and haze settled over the mountains and lakes. This has become an expected part of our summers, but it seems to happen earlier every year, and linger longer.

The God of the Woods, by Liz Moore
I enjoyed Long Bright River a few years ago, so when I saw her latest was a mystery set at a summer camp in 1975 I was all in. Perfect summer reading. Liz Moore reminds me quite a bit of Tana French; she delivers a compelling and character-driven story I want to read straight through, and I genuinely enjoy her writing (which is not something I expect or need from most mysteries I check out from the library when I need something to distract my brain for a couple of days).

Headshot, by Rita Bullwinkel
I never would have picked this up had it not been longlisted for the Booker, and I simply loved this story about women's youth boxing. (This weird thing seems to happen to me often, where I fall in love with books about some sport I don't care about at all, or even think I actively dislike, but of course it's always about so much more.) I loved the writing and it reminded me a lot of Lorrie Moore, which makes sense since Bullwinkel thanked her in the acknowledgements.

Everyone Here is Lying, by Shari Lapina
It's probably not fair for me to review this ridiculous mess of a book so soon after reading a mystery like The God of the Woods. I thought it was trying to be a combination of We Need to Talk About Kevin and The Push and Gone Girl. Two stars because it was entertaining and only took me a day to read.

Same as it Ever Was, by Claire Lombardo
I really enjoyed Lombardo's The Most Fun We Ever Had, and this book began with that same promise -- I do love a sprawling family saga with great characterization. But this one kind of went off the rails for me a little over halfway through and it became a bit of a slog to finish. I also wish Lombardo would have hit a little harder on the protagonist's background instead of making this such a story of suburban white privilege. Still, I wept at the ending, and Lombardo is a fun writer to read, and I read all 500 pages in five days.

Things We Lost in the Fire, by Mariana Enriquez
Really excellent collection, really unsettling. Megan McDowell writes in her Translator's Note, "What there is of gothic horror in [these stories] mingles with and is intensified by their sharp social criticism." Indeed, this book addresses issues such as mental illness, pollution, poverty, toxic marital relationships, and what it's like to move through the world as a woman or a teenage girl. It's gritty and visceral and so many of the stories leave the reader wondering whether something "really" happened or whether darker supernatural elements are at play.

Shae, by Mesha Maren
I love Mesha Maren's prose, I love her characters and the way she amplifies voices that are often overlooked, and I love Shae's voice.

Tell Me Everything, by Elizabeth Strout
"Love comes in so many different forms, but it is always love. If it is love, then it is love."

If you've loved Olive Kitteridge (who continues to be fabulously cantankerous at ninety-one), Lucy Barton, or the Burgess brothers, you're in for a treat. This is a quiet story until you realize it really is just everything. It was the perfect -- and I really do mean the perfect -- book for me to read right now, at this point in my life, and I think it will be a perfect book to return to for years to come.

Without Exception: Reclaiming Abortion, Personhood, and Freedom, by Pam Houston
"The freedom to control what happens to one's own body is not only the foundation for gender equality, it's the foundation upon which all other human rights are built...therefore, bodily autonomy is always a thing worth talking about."

Pam Houston is a writer I love and respect on so many levels and this one is worth purchasing and reading immediately.

Warrior Girl Unearthed, by Angeline Boulley
Really loved the story, maybe even more than The Firekeeper's Daughter, but it sort of spiraled into a "what is even happening so fast and wait how are we now at the end" situation. (If you liked The Firekeeper's Daughter I absolutely recommend it, though.)

One Perfect Couple, by Ruth Ware
Temptation Island meets Lord of the Flies.

Orbital, by Samantha Harvey
I loved this in a way I didn't expect, and I don't know if I'd have picked it up if Harvey hadn't made the Booker shortlist (and then the longlist). It reminds me of reading Virginia Woolf and I loved every single sentence.

All Friends are Necessary, by Tomas Moniz
This is a hug in the form of a novel. A book that seems so largely about grief could have broken my heart, but it expanded it instead, and it shows how joy and grief and love and loss coexist. I needed to read this at precisely this moment in my life, but I also can't imagine a moment in my life when this wouldn't be true.

If Beale Street Could Talk, by James Baldwin
The thing about Baldwin is -- oh, who am I to actually say what it is? He's everything. But this is everything I love about the best literature, about the authors and works I teach. When students ask, "Why do we have to read about____" all the time, I might say, because we read to understand ourselves, what motivates us, what drives human behavior. Because all art is political. Because if all you take away from a deeply human story is the trauma, you miss the redemption, the hope. Baldwin writes straight to the heart of injustice, but also community and love. I'm not sure I've ever read a writer who understands love like he does.

The Maltese Falcon, by Dashiell Hammett
November 2024 was a perfect month to read some classic noir. Great distraction from the dumpster fire that is our country, and also -- the cinematic writing is pretty fabulous. (And then, yes, I watched the movie.)

The Next Mrs Parrish, by Liv Constantine
I mean, this was ridiculous. I hated the ending of The Last Mrs. Parrish SO MUCH -- I mean, it actually made me angry -- that I can't tell you what prompted me to pick up this one, EXCEPT that someone I love mentioned it and I was like, fine. And it was kind of terrible in a fun way (which is what I sometimes want in a weekend library book). AND it was pretty satisfying, and removed some of the bad taste leftover from the first book.

(Is there going to be a Mrs. Parrish #3? I think the door might be open for one, but with one of the most horrible characters kind of out of the picture ("kind of" is intentional here, like, this person isn't DEAD but might as well be), I'm not sure how well it would work. Then again, I never expected a Mrs. Parrish #2, either.

Intermezzo, by Sally Rooney
This took me longer to read than I planned, but I think it's because of when I read it (chaotic weeks in December leading up to break) and not because of the book itself, which I ultimately loved.

Darkly, by Marisha Pessl
Three stars because nothing Marisha Pessl has written has lived up to Special Topics in Calamity Physics for me, but it was an awfully fun book to bring on vacation.

*

Here are my audiobooks for 2024--not a lot because I'm mostly a podcast girl in the car, which is where I listen to things these days:

Counting the Cost, by Jill Duggar
I listened to this on a road trip and found it compelling, though Jill Duggar still has some (or a lot of) deconstructing to do. Jim Bob is as horrible as I imagined, and this is a pretty solid companion to the Shiny Happy People documentary.

Becoming Free Indeed: My Story of Disentangling Faith From Fear, by Jinger Duggar
Nope.

Come and Get It, by Kiley Reid
I don't normally enjoy literary fiction on audio, but Kiley Reid is an exception. She has an impeccable ear for dialogue that works well in the audio version, and her pacing is perfect.

The Exvangelicals: Loving, Living, and Leaving the White Evangelical Church, by Sarah McCammon
I was raised in a pretty mainstream Christian church in the 90s and much of this is still intensely relatable.

They Came for the Schools: One Town's Fight Over Race and Identity, and the New War for America's Classrooms, by Mike Hixenbaugh
Obviously I want everyone who's NOT a teacher to listen to this, but also...I want teachers to listen as well, especially teachers in blue states where we can too easily become complacent. Oh, hey! I'm dealing with my first parent challenge to my curriculum in a long time, by the way. I'm lucky to have my district's support. I'd be fired six ways from Sunday in many other states if I didn't comply.

There's a podcast about this worth listening to as well -- check out Southlake.

The Quiet Damage: Q-Anon and the Destruction of the American Family, by Jessalyn Cook
Powerful, poignant, sad -- but not without hope. (I have to believe that.)

*

I'm starting 2025 with Safiya Sinclair's brilliant memoir How to Say Babylon, and my reading list is long already. How about you?

2023 in Books

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.

The Trees, by Percival Everett 

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.

2022 in Books

2022 was a tough year, and reading, like everything else, felt harder than it usually does for me. Still, reading also saves me, always. My list isn't as long as I would have liked this year, but here it is.   

All American Boys, by Jason Reynolds and Brandon Kiely 

Every English teacher probably knows about this one, or they should. I used it in literature circles with a social justice focus and my students really loved it. 

The Sentence, by Louise Erdrich 

I loved this book so much. I can't say that I think it's Erdrich's absolute best (I wouldn't suggest this as an introduction to her work), but the story was so timely and weird and poignant and warmly funny and heartbreaking all at once. Tookie is such a fabulous character. And it's a book-lover's book, to be sure. I also know that part of my love is that this story is set in a real place I hold dear to my heart. All the stars for this one.

These Precious Day, by Ann Patchett 

This is everything I absolutely love about Ann Patchett -- talk about a book to hug. I always enjoy her fiction, but I LOVE her essays. I started it on the way to Portland on a February Saturday and finished it when we returned home the next night. It sparked something in me that had felt a bit dull lately -- maybe the desire to write things, a hunger to read great sentences. Not just to finish a book because I set some arbitrary reading goal.

 

Still Life, by Sarah Winman 

I loved everything about this book, and it's one of the best of 2022. Absolutely worth owning in hardcover. 

"So, time heals. Mostly. Sometimes careless. And in unsuspecting moments, the pain catches and reminds one of all that's been missing. the fulcrum of what might have been. But then it passes. Winter moves into spring and swallows return. The proximity of new skin returns to the sheets. Beauty does what is required. Jobs fulfill and conversations inspire. Loneliness becomes a mere Sunday. Scattered clothes. Empty bowls. Rotting fruit, Passing time. But still life in all its beauty and complexity." 

The Visit, by Friedrich Dürrenmatt 

I taught this play to my seniors in the spring, when their focus was at an all-time low. They had fun with it. 

 

The Forgotten Girls, by Sara Blaedel 

A difficult student recommended it to me and I mostly read it because it gave us something to talk about.

American Street, by Ibi Zoboi 

Another one I read because I used it in lit circles with my sophomores. I enjoyed it, loved the main character's voice, and I'd read more from this author. 

The Kind of Brave You Wanted to Be, by Brian Doyle 

I read this during Lent and passed it on to one of the most important people in my life. Brian Doyle remains the writer I turn to when I need to breathe and read beautiful sentences. 

The Love Songs of W.E.B. Du Bois, by Honorée Fanonne Jeffers 

One of the most immersive books I have ever read. I'm in awe of what Jeffers manages to do here; it's both expansive and intimate, and the narrative voice is pitch-perfect through every moment, every historical shift. I let this sit on myself for a few months before I picked it up; at nearly 800 pages, I felt I had to read it at "the perfect time." That time, for me, fell over Spring Break and COVID in my house, but I was hooked from the first page, and I think it would have kept its hold on me in any season. 

Sea of Tranquility, by Emily St. John Mandel 

If you haven't read The Glass Hotel, read that one first -- I like it even better than Station Eleven -- and some of the characters in that novel appear in this one. Sea of Tranquility works as a standalone novel, but the experience was richer for me because I had that context. And this novel is a beautiful work of storytelling. The thing I can't quite shake is that the structure is very similar to Cloud Atlas without the same level of care. I loved the time travel, and the concept works well in this book, but there was no change in "voice" moving back and forth through time. David Mitchell did amazing things with language in his novel, and I wish Emily St. John Mandel would have given some attention to the way language changes and evolves when her characters are separated by centuries. But that's a tricky thing to do well, and maybe she was playing it safe. It's just a thing I noticed that took me out of the story itself -- but just a bit. This is a writer who excels at world building, and I still wholeheartedly recommend this one. 

Very Cold People, by Sarah Manguso 

Sarah Manguso is a gorgeous writer and I loved nearly every sentence of her debut novel. It won't work for everyone -- it's a fragmented storytelling style, a life revealed in a series of moments -- but I think that's what life is anyway. Very nearly five stars, but the ending was a bit too abrupt for me. I don't mean unresolved, it just felt like a sudden transition that didn't quite work. (I still loved it, absolutely still recommend it.) 

I'm Still Here: Black Dignity in a World Made for Whiteness, by Austin Channing Brown 

This belongs on the shelf next to Between the World and Me by Ta-Nehisi Coates, So You Want To Talk About Race by Ijeoma Oluo, and Trouble I've Seen: Changing the Way the Church Views Racism by Drew G.I. Hart. I read it in one day. 

Dog Years, by Mark Doty 

I love Mark Doty's poetry, but I can't even be objective about how much I loved this book. I love dogs and I love beautiful sentences and deep meditations on love and grief with moments of sheer delight and gentle humor and joy and tenderness. I set aside my copy for one of my closest friends, but if he doesn't return it, I might need to buy another copy, because it's the kind of book I would pick up before bed for a bit when I need to immerse myself in this kind of love when the world feels terrible. 

A Constellation of Ghosts: A Speculative Memoir With Ravens, by Laraine Herring 

I haven't stopped thinking about this since I read it. The story is about so many layered things -- grief, illness, loss, healing, reckoning with the past -- and the language and structure work so beautifully. I don't want to try to explain much more than that, but this was a powerful, immersive reading experience and I can't recommend it highly enough. 

The Girl From Widow Hills, by Megan Miranda 

Pretty fun First Day of Summer read (especially because our first day of summer was cold and rainy). 

Bewilderment, by Richard Powers 

I bought this because I loved The Overstory so much a few years ago, but I let it sit for a long time after reading a few decidely lukewarm reviews. I should have ignored them. This novel is more personal than The Overstory, but it has the same reverently beautiful writing and "sorrowful awe" (I don't remember where I read that phrase but it's exactly right) that I love about Richard Powers's work. Set in a time parallel to ours or in a frighteningly familiar world not far into our future, this reads a little like science fiction but captures the beauty of the natural world more tenderly and eloquently than almost any writer I've read. It also broke my heart. I almost think Powers went for the easy ending, but it might have been the only ending. 

Companion Piece, by Ali Smith 

How could I not love this? Like the Seasonal Quartet, this is brilliant and inventive, playful and pointed. Can any other writer speak to our present time so immediately while also transcending it? 

Trust, by Hernan Diaz 

This is one of those special novels that pulls me in so completely -- in this case, it's the language and the inventive, intricately structured plot -- even though the subject, on its surface, isn't one that grabs me. (A rich investor in the early 1900s? Meh.) The storytelling is utterly sublime, though. If you find it a slow burn at first (I didn't; I actually loved this immediately), stick with it. What a wonderful reading experience. 

We Are the Baby-Sitters Club: Essays and Artwork from Grown-Up Readers, edited by Marisa Crawford and Megan Milks 

This is required reading for anyone who grew up reading the Baby-Sitters Club, especially in the 80s or early 90s. 

The Anti-Racist Writers Workshop, by Felicia Rose Chavez 

This is geared towards folks who lead creative writing workshops, but as a high school English teacher, a reader, and a writer, I found SO MUCH value in this. My copy is heavily annotated and underlined and I want everyone who teaches writing in any capacity to read this. 

Heavy, by Kiese Laymon 

Stunning writing on a sentence level, powerful story, and required reading for all of us on so many levels. It's a book about everything and we all need it. 

A Flicker in the Dark, by Stacy Willingham

This is the kind of book I want to read when I need to clear my head and be entertained for a day, and it delivered. Note: I never try terribly hard to figure out WHO DID IT because this is just pure fun for me, and I like to just roll with it. That said, I had opinions about this one from early on, and I was wrong. However, it still wasn't surprising. Whatever. It was fun, and I'd read her books again over a weekend or on an airplane for sure. 

Unmask Alice: LSD, Satanic Panic, and the Imposter Behind the World's Most Notorious Diaries, by Rick Emerson 

This is required reading for anyone who read Go Ask Alice, Jay's Journal, or any other of the diaries Beatrice Sparks "discovered." (I would add It Happened to Nancy. I read all three of those books many times between the ages of, oh, 12 and 15.) Rick Emerson was also a guest on the podcast "You're Wrong About" and that episode prompted me to cancel my hold at the library and just BUY the book. No regrets. 

Crying in the Bathroom, by Erika Sánchez 

I loved I Am Not Your Perfect Mexican Daughter, and I love teaching that book so much. I also love Sánchez's poetry. But her style doesn't quite work for me as a memoir. That said, there's a lot to appreciate here, and I still recommend it. I read it in two sittings and handed it right to my daughter. 

To Paradise, by Hanya Yanagihara 

I think Hanya Yanagihara is brilliant, but both The People in the Trees and A Little Life were traumatic reading experiences (for very different reasons), so I wasn't sure I was up for another one. This book is unlike both of those, and I loved it for its structure -- it's really three separate stories that "speak" to each other across time -- and the stunning prose I expect from this writer. I admit I became a big bogged down in the middle, and I needed to take a break for a bit; it's a heavy book, literally and figuratively, but I loved the first and last sections. (The ending was a bit too much like the ending of The Handmaid's Tale for me, though, and I'm not sure how I feel about that. It's not that I mind ambiguity, I just felt like Margaret Atwood already wrote this scene.) 

 

The Sympathizer, by Viet Thanh Nguyen 

This took me a long, long time to read -- but only because I took a long break. Which, in hindsight, wasn't the worst thing. For me, this wasn't a book to rush through, even though it held my interest (indeed, I read the last half in a single weekend). It's brilliant and important and I honestly have no idea how to review it beyond five awe-struck stars. (If you've ever read anything about the Vietnam War, you need to read this. If you've read nothing about it, you need to read this.) 

The It Girl, by Ruth Ware 

This is the type of book I like reading at the beginning of the school year, over that first weekend when my brain can't handle much besides a cozy suspense novel and a glass of wine. This sort of scratched that itch, but I admit this one was a bit of a slog for me until close to the end, and it took me a bit longer than I would have liked to read. 

Lucy By The Sea, by Elizabeth Strout 

I love Lucy more with each book, and this one was so tender. And so unmooring. Elizabeth Strout perfectly recalls the uncertainty and upheaval of the early days of the pandemic, and reading about it only two years later was nothing short of surreal. She also captures so poignantly the human need for connection in a country becoming increasingly divided. 

All Good People Here, by Ashley Flowers I'm a devoted Crime Junkie, so I had to read this one, and it was fun. 

 

Demon Copperhead, by Barbara Kingsolver I love Barbara Kingsolver, a lot, but her books are really all over the place for me. This one might be her best, though, and at the top of my list for 2022. It deserves every accolade. Read it. 

The Rabbit Hutch, by Tess Gunty 

I'm not sure the ending quite held together for me, and the main character was a bit too much Manic Pixie Dream Girl, but that wasn't enough reason to knock it down a star because this book was such an absorbing, propulsive read. Fantastic way to kick off winter break. (There are plenty of reviews out there if you're interested, but I think this is a book best enjoyed without knowing too much about it.) 

 

Lean Fall Stand, by Jon McGregor 

This book opened on the ice in Antarctica, during a storm. But where it led after that was an unexpectedly tender story about the importance of communication and how we share ourselves with each other. McGregor's prose delivers everything I love about his writing, and this was a perfect way to end 2022. 

Begin Again: James Baldwin's America and Its Urgent Lessons For Our Own, by Eddie S. Glaude Jr. 

I included this in my 2021 list because I started it in 2021, but I finished it in 2022, and this is the year I taught Baldwin in my IB lit classes again. I came to James Baldwin rather late in my life and I'm still discovering him -- but teaching his essays to my juniors requires that I think beyond what personally resonates for me, too, and this book sets his work in the context of our own. I have so much more of Baldwin to read. 

Note from last year, which still applies: I don't usually include audiobooks, because they're not my favorite. It's not that I don't consider them "real" reading (I absolutely do!) but they don't work for me in the same way; I can't fully appreciate the language and craft of stories I really love when I can't see the sentences. But that's not to say that I don't enjoy audiobooks in my own particular context: extended time on the road, and occasionally, on my daily walks (though I prefer podcasts for those). Here are my audiobooks for 2022 (only four, as I usually listen to podcasts instead of books): 

The School for Good Mothers, by Jessica Chan 

Everyone loved this, and it's a worthy read, but I felt like it was trying to be like The Handmaid's Tale without providing context I really wanted. (What happened leading up to the world being like this? I'd believe it wholeheartedly if the novel just recounted the last few years or whatever, but I wanted to see it a little more clearly.) 

Pure: Inside the Evangelical Movement That Shamed a Generation of Young Women and How I Broke Free, by Linda Kay Klein 

Pretty compelling for any of us who grew up with 90s Purity Culture in our churches. Even more mainstream and even progressive denominations (ELCA, anyone?) were subject to this sort of brainwashing, not just what we see as the ultra-conservative Christians. 

Mercy Street, by Jennifer Haigh 

A timely and compelling story with abortion rights at the center. Yes, I think you should read it. 

Friends, Lovers, and the Big Terrible Thing, by Matthew Perry 

I canceled my hold on the library book in favor of the audiobook (read by Perry himself) on a road trip. Oof. I'm glad I listened to it instead of read it. 

 

As always, I've already started a list for 2023, and I'm looking forward to the Most Anticipated Books of 2023 from Lithub and The Millions in the coming days. If you've made your way through my list, I assume you're reading your way through your own. And I believe reading matters, so: love and solidarity, Friends.

2021 in Books

2021 hasn't been much better than 2020, but I read some great books. My beloved college professor and advisor Joan Buckley said, "We read to remind ourselves of our humanity." I think that matters. I'd say now more than ever, but it has always mattered.

This year's list:

Home Fire, by Kamila Shamsie
I read this in 2017 but I reread it this year because I added it to the IB Literature curriculum, paired with Antigone. This one absolutely rewarded rereading.

Jack, by Marilynne Robinson
I read this slowly, appreciating the return to the world of Robinson's Gilead (though this novel is set in St. Louis, not Iowa), this time to tell the story of Reverend Boughton's wayward son and the woman he loves. Like the other novels, this is a story of ideas rather than plot, but no less engaging (to this reader) because of that.

I love Robinson's fiction and her graceful prose, but I wouldn't try to read this without the context with the others. Even though I read Gilead years ago and my memory of specifics is less than perfectly clear, I was glad to have a little context.

How Much of These Hills Is Gold, by C Pam Zhang
I read this in two days. It's so interesting to read the reviews of others who claim they couldn't get into the story, which just goes to show how reading experiences can differ; I was hooked from the first sentence and found it both propulsive and deeply immersive, and Zhang's language is a wonder. It reminds me a bit of Téa Obreht's Inland in that it takes us to the American West -- but not in any way we're used to reading about it. Instead, Zhang elevates the stories of a Chinese immigrant family as they search for home in a land that is hostile to their culture and identity. I hesitate to say more about it, because so much of the magic, for me, happened when the story took a turn I didn't expect. The structure worked brilliantly, the characters were so compelling, and at every turn Zhang added a layer of poignant surprise that, in hindsight, was the heart of the story all along.

Caste, by Isabel Wilkerson

“Choose not to look, however, at your own peril. The owner of an old house knows that whatever you are ignoring will never go away. Whatever is lurking will fester whether you choose to look or not. Ignorance is no protection from the consequences of inaction. Whatever you are wishing away will gnaw at you until you gather the courage to face what you would rather not see.”

When I read The Warmth of Other Suns years ago, I knew it was one I would forever recommend to everyone. This isn't true of all the books I love, or find powerful or moving or beautifully written; reading experiences differ, blah blah whatever. I love a lot of books I wouldn't necessarily insist my mother or boss read immediately.

The same is true of Caste, only more urgently. I want everyone to read this. I love Wilkerson's writing: smooth and engaging without ever assuming her readers already know what she has to say. I read this because I loved her previous book, yes, but I also know I have a lot of anti-racist work to do, and this book made me look at race in this country in a way I honestly never really had: through the framework of a caste system. It knocked me flat, but not in a way that will shut down readers who most need to read this (which is...all of us in the dominant caste). This is essential reading.

The Secret Lives of Church Ladies, by Deesha Philyaw
Oh, this is just so good. I have my absolute favorites (as I usually do, in any story collection, and this is what makes the entire book tricky to rate), but they're all good. Read it. Read it.

Concrete Rose, by Angie Thomas
I loved everything about this and I read it in a single day. Thank goodness for Snow Days.

Read this after The Hate U Give, but read it. I love -- LOVE -- authors who show us their characters in a different light, from a different perspective, who take a supporting character from one story and let them take the stage in another. Madeleine L'Engle was a master at this. Tana French did it with the Dublin Murder Squad. And Angie Thomas does this with Garden Heights, the setting of The Hate U Give, seventeen years earlier. She doesn't miss a note.

A Promised Land, by Barack Obama
I read this a bit at a time for a long time, switching between the hardcover and audiobook. I love hearing his voice; I also love his writing voice. This book is dense but reads smoothly, and it's well worth the effort. I'll read the next installment when it comes, but I think it's going to be difficult, knowing where the country went in 2016. The contrast is still unbearable.

Don't Let Me Be Lonely: An American Lyric, by Claudia Rankine
I picked this up at Powell's last year, pre-Pandemic, and I realized that it's part of a trilogy -- that it belongs with Citizen: An American Lyric (which took my breath away five years ago) and Just Us: An American Conversation, which I bought as soon as it was published.

So I read it today. In a single day, almost a single sitting, just like Citizen. Rankine writes in that "unsettled territory" between poetry and prose (I can't remember where I read that, but that's what it is) and she does it brilliantly, weaving in mental health, pharmaceuticals, loneliness, culture, and politics that capture yet also transcend a very particular moment in America. Brilliant.

Who Will Be a Witness? Igniting Activitsm For God's Justice, Love, and Deliverance, by Drew G.I. Hart
Add this to the list of books I want every Christian to read, especially those who seek to move from being an ally to being a co-conspirator. I appreciate the mix of history and theology, as well as the necessary challenge to look at the way the church has often upheld white supremacy and shift to practicing "Jesus-shaped" justice.

A Year of Mr. Lucky, by Meg Weber

"I always feel like too much, except when I'm afraid I'm not enough."

This is a beautifully honest memoir about being human, vulnerable, and strong -- I believe that telling the truth about our own lives is some of the most important work we can do, and Meg Weber does this with fierce courage. (I've been incredibly lucky to write with Meg for the past several years, and she's the real deal.)

Long Bright River, by Liz Moore
This character-based mystery is more about the family dynamic, class, and the struggles of opioid addition than the mystery itself; it reminded me a bit of Tana French.

The Prophets, by Robert Jones, Jr.
I've been thinking about how to write about this devastating, beautiful, brilliant novel and I just don't know what to say that will capture how powerful it is. This novel soars. The characters, even -- especially? -- the secondary characters. The structure, which manages to tell an epic story from multiple perspectives but propel the reader forward. The sentences.

The author makes no secret about drawing inspiration from James Baldwin and Toni Morrison (among many other brilliant folks), and while he doesn't write "like" them, I think his work belongs alongside theirs. Still processing.

Infinite Country, by Patricia Engel
I read this book in a day, and I kept pausing to say to my husband, "This is just so good and so important and I want you to read it right now." Patricia Engel tells an immigration story that is both intimate and epic. The structure and pacing are perfect, the characters fully realized, and on a sentence level, it's just beautifully crafted. I can't believe anyone could tell this much story in under 200 pages. And this story does what the best stories do -- it humanizes what we try to "other" with our labels, political discourse, assumptions, biases, ignorance, and fear. Engel slips us into the perspective of a young couple trying to make their way in the world, their Columbian-born daughter raised in America, their American-born daughter coming of age in Columbia, and the brother between them -- all trying to survive, all trying to find their way back to each other, all grappling what it means to call a place home when your heart is somewhere else.

Milk Blood Heat, by Dantiel W. Moniz
I started reading and couldn't put this down. When I finished one story I immediately wanted more. I love everything about this book -- Moniz writes so beautifully and viscerally about girlhood, the complicated relationships between mothers and daughters and husbands and wives and siblings, and the intimate physicality of lived experience. So, so good.

Verge, by Lidia Yuknavitch
This book feels sort of impossible to rate. I think Lidia Yuknavitch is brilliant, full stop, and one of the bravest writers I've read. If you've read her other works and agree with me, or if you've enjoyed writers like Kelly Link and Carmen Maria Machado, read this one.

Mexican Gothic, by Silvia Moreno-Garcia
Fun and deliciously creepy gothic novel. Lots of fog, mysterious and sinister characters, a great big gloomy house, and a spunky protagonist determined not to let any of it scare her before she saves her cousin from some malevolent yet undefined force. This would have been a fantastic Halloween read, but I appreciated this literary escape over Spring Break, too.

The Underground Railroad, by Colson Whitehead
Another reread (this one from 2016), because the district gave me permission to teach it this year. It's brilliant. Colson Whitehead is everything.

What We Don't Talk About When We Talk About Fat, by Aubrey Gordon
I absolutely love Aubrey Gordon, and I think EVERYONE who has either been hurt by or perpetuated toxic diet culture and anti-fat bias, even inadvertently (which would literally be ALL of us), needs to read this. And I'm specifically eyeing...some of you whom I dearly love.

I also highly recommend the podcast "Maintenance Phase," hosted by Aubrey Gordon and Michael Hobbes. I'd listen to them talk about literally anything (Hobbes also hosts the podcast "You're Wrong About," which is also fabulous) but this one focuses on "[debunking] the junk science between health & wellness fads, and decode their cultural meaning."

Read the book, and then check out the podcast.

Leave the World Behind, by Rumaan Alam
Quietly unsettling, beautifully written story about race, class, and the end of the world. I couldn't put it down.

Grounded, by Jon Tester
Jon Tester is a senior United States Senator from Big Sandy, Montana (near my own family's origins) and he still manages his farm full-time. I LIKE HIM SO DAMN MUCH and reading this sort of broke my heart. I wish it made me feel hopeful, because if anyone can communicate with Americans of differing beliefs, it's him. (I fall a little left of him on most things, for the record, but his story and his beliefs resonate hard with me. I wish everyone in my family would read this.) It was also interesting to read this at more or less the same time I read A Promised Land.

The Push, by Ashley Audrain
This reminded me a lot of We Need To Talk About Kevin, with a more nuanced and true portrayal of the darkness of new motherhood.

Detroit Fairy Tales, by Elisa Sinnett
Elisa Sinnett has written a love letter to a place without romanticizing it. She honors her roots without minimizing trauma. She writes about what drives human behavior -- class, family, sex, race -- without losing sight of the ways in which we are all messily human. I loved every single sentence of this book.

The Office of Historical Corrections, by Danielle Evans
This collection of short stories and a novella is brilliant. It's about, oh, everything. And it's just about perfect on the sentence level. Pretty much everything I want in a work of literature, and also, I couldn't put it down. Sometimes I like short story collections because I feel like I can read them while I read other things. Read a story here, with my morning coffee; read another one before bed, maybe while I'm also reading a novel. But this collection was so immersive; I read it straight through.

I know I haven't said anything specific about the stories themselves, but if you care about imaginative storylines, compelling characters, and beautifully crafted sentences, read this.

Maid: Hard Work, Low Pay, and a Mother's Will to Survive, by Jane Allison
Well, this book definitely reinforced my stance that I never want to live in a house that is too much for me to take care of on my own as long as I am able-bodied, and I continue to be unimpressed by the classic capitalist idea that we're supposed to want to upgrade and upgrade and accumulate more stuff and take up as much space as possible in the world and then someday downsize again, or whatever.

This is an engaging, well-written memoir, and I appreciate Land's voice in a larger conversation about poverty. I really appreciate the way she dismantles so much of the "bootstrap" narrative so many of us were raised with. I think it's important to remember, though, that this is one woman's story, not a work of research, and I think that basic fact gets lost in a lot of discussions of this book. This is not to diminish Land's experiences at all, but it's hard to read this without thinking of how her (real) poverty is temporary, and how her whiteness affords her privileges that are not accessible to many folks in similar situations. I wish she would have hit on that a little harder, but again, this is a memoir. I also think she leaves out some important pieces of her story (there are so many things I have questions about, things she skims over but clearly impact this story in profound ways) but I also know she doesn't owe me that, and the omissions may very well be intentional. I still recommend this one. (I read this before I watched the Netflix series. Which is also good...but it's incomplete.)

The Final Revival of Opal & Nev, by Dawnie Walton
This novel deserves every single accolade. It sings, it soars, it provokes. The oral history form works beautifully, and Dawnie Walton writes voice unlike anyone I've read. I think the audiobook would be fantastic, but as someone who also loves beautifully written literature on a sentence level, I cherish the hardcover. (Buy a hardcover so you can hug it.) I absolutely loved it.

How the Word Is Passed, by Clint Smith

“I think that history is the story of the past, using all the available facts, and that nostalgia is a fantasy about the past using no facts, and somewhere in between is memory, which is kind of this blend of history and a little bit of emotion…I mean, history is kind of about what you need to know…but nostalgia is what you want to hear.”

I make no secret of my love for Clint Smith, and this book is one I want literally everyone to read. I learned that he originally conceived of this project as a book of poetry, one in which each poem would address a different Confederate monument he visited. For the record, I think that would have been a brilliant collection. But this book soars as both an important and immersive history book and a stunning work of literature on the sentence level; Smith writes with a poet's ear to language. I read this one straight through, marking every chapter, unable to put it down.

My "blue-ribbon" high school education (and all the years before and many since) had some gaps, to put it mildly. We need this book.

Noopiming: The Cure for White Ladies, by Leanne Betasamosake Simpson
I absolutely love this book.

It wasn't written for me or my understanding (and likely that will apply to you, too).

Read a little about the book, maybe.

Let the poetry break you a bit. Laugh out loud sometimes (because it's also funny sometimes). Let it break your heart, too, make you think, make you wonder. Be willing to do a little work to understand, or try. Be open.

Long Way Down, by Jason Reynolds
I don't love all YA novels-in-verse but this one leveled me with the power of its language -- the economy of it, the power, the care given to rhythm and sound.

I finished it and immediately handed it to my teenaged daughter. I want more copies in my classroom. The story itself is powerful, but the writing sends it soaring.

We Want to Do More Than Survive: Abolitionist Teaching and the Pursuit of Educational Freedom, by Bettina L. Love
I want every teacher teacher to read this.

I had the phenomenal privilege of hearing Dr. Love speak this year, and in my journal I wrote, "I want every teacher to hear her. Actually, every human." That's exactly how I feel about her book.

The Chosen and the Beautiful, by Nghi Vo
Retellings of well-known stories don't always work for me, but I couldn't pass up the story of The Great Gatsby told from Jordan's perspective. Jordan as queer, adopted, and Asian -- I'm here for it. Right before I picked this up, I had a conversation with a friend about the value of "American Literature" courses in high school, and I said that the only way I would ever want to teach a class with that title again is by focusing on whose stories weren't told in those red hardcover anthologies so many of us marched through. But that's a larger conversation.

Anyway, maybe the premise is ridiculous -- there is also magic, demon's blood (demoniac) added to many, many cocktails, and cut paper figures that come eerily to life -- but Vo's telling of this story is transformative and it works beautifully. I suppose it could stand on its own, but I think I appreciated it so much more more because I've read Fitzgerald's novel many times (and I can't deny that I love it, mostly for the cadence of his sentences). Vo perfectly captures the essence of Fitzgerald's story and the way he can draw a reader so fully into a moment, but her command of language is also very much her own, and I was completely enthralled from start to finish. I knew what was coming, but I couldn't put it down, and with Jordan at the center the story soars in a dark and dreamy new way.

The Shadow King, by Maaza Mengiste
This book is stunning, and it's also the best war novel I've ever read, telling the story of Italy's second invasion of Ethiopia. Most war novels relegate women to the margins, if they are present at all; they are flimsy plot devices, or sexual objects, or props. This novel centers them; women have always been there.

The characters are all multifaceted, complicated, and human. The writing is gorgeous at the sentence level and brilliant in the bigger picture -- structure, plot, theme. I couldn't put it down, but I also wanted to read it slowly. It's a nearly perfect novel.

Things We Lost to the Water, by Eric Nguyen
This is a story of Huong, a refugee from Vietnam, who arrives in New Orleans with her two very young sons in 1979, and the novel follows their lives through the next few decades, ending with Hurricane Katrina. I wanted to love it -- the motif of water is (clearly) an important thread, and the novel grapples with the themes of memory, loss, belonging, and how we find and define home (one of my favorite literary themes). But I wanted more from each of the characters' stories -- so much potential for development. Still, this is one I'll keep in my classroom and happily share.

Great Circle, by Maggie Shipstead
I loved this book more than I can put into words. Finely honed at the sentence level, perfectly paced and plotted, and characters I can't stop thinking about. It spoke to my soul in ways I can't articulate yet. Definitely one of my favorites this year.

Local Woman Missing, by Mary Kubica
I know I listen to too much true crime, but this irritated me so much. At the end I both wanted to laugh and throw the book at the wall. The multiple perspectives also didn't work for me because the voices all read exactly the same to me -- I'd have lost track of who was talking (the little brother of the missing girl, one of the missing women, the woman next door, etc.) if each section wasn't clearly labeled with a name and "NOW" or "ELEVEN YEARS AGO." On the positive side, it was a FAST read (started it at dinner, finished it after breakfast the next morning, did NOT stay up all night breathlessly turning pages) and I did finish it, because in spite of myself, I wanted to know what happened.

Cultivating Genius: An Equity Framework for Culturally and Historically Responsive Literacy, by Gholdy Mohammaed
Another absolutely essential book for educators.

The 57 Bus, by Dashka Slater
I'm excited to add this to my sophomore curriculum.

This is the summary from goodreads.com:

One teenager in a skirt.
One teenager with a lighter.
One moment that changes both of their lives forever.

If it weren't for the 57 bus, Sasha and Richard never would have met. Both were high school students from Oakland, California, one of the most diverse cities in the country, but they inhabited different worlds. Sasha, a white teen, lived in the middle-class foothills and attended a small private school. Richard, a black teen, lived in the crime-plagued flatlands and attended a large public one. Each day, their paths overlapped for a mere eight minutes. But one afternoon on the bus ride home from school, a single reckless act left Sasha severely burned, and Richard charged with two hate crimes and facing life imprisonment. The case garnered international attention, thrusting both teenagers into the spotlight.

This is a story that fosters empathy and understanding, elevates marginalized voices we need to hear, and, yes, reminds us of our own humanity. I hope.

Behind Closed Doors, by B.A. Paris
So this isn't great literature, but I couldn't put it down and the ending was pretty great. It's exactly what I needed to read over Labor Day weekend after the most chaotic return to school I've ever experienced (fully in-person after 18 months AND in a brand-new building). Glad it was a library book because it was no Tana French, but no regrets.

Somebody's Daughter, by Ashley C. Ford
Ashley C. Ford is a beautiful writer, and this memoir is one I'll recommend (and add to my classroom shelves).

It's a different story than the one I thought I was going to read -- maybe that's a marketing issue, but there were so many places where she brushed over stories I wanted so much more of, especially in her adulthood. But they're hers to tell as she wishes, and this is still a complex, nuanced, important read.

The Living Sea of Waking Dreams, by Richard Flanagan
This strange, dreamy, devastating, beautiful book cut straight to my core.

I love this quote from Damien Cave's review in The New York Times: "If there is hope in 'The Living Sea of Waking Dreams' — and in interviews, Flanagan has said there is — it may be found in that simple admonition. Look extinction in the face and find meaning in what we have left. Human failure cannot be solved when we’re scrolling, lost in our dreams, or when the air is tobacco brown. What we see, stream and share will never matter as much as the lives and landscapes we can observe, contemplate and touch."

The Other Black Girl, by Zakiya Dalila Harris
I picked this up because it was getting a lot of literary buzz and it was categorized (by some) as a "thriller," which is what I'm often in the mood for in the fall. But this book defies easy categorization. It's not really a thriller -- at least not the fun, read-in-one-sitting kind of books I indulge in over the weekend when I'm stressed -- but it also doesn't read (to me) like a "dark comedy" or one reminiscent of The Devil Wears Prada, which is how it's marketed. It's much deeper than that, and the writing is so much more than I usually expect from my fun mystery reads. Maybe that's actually why this isn't the book for some folks. I suppose it's a slow burn in terms of "thrillers" (although the writing and characterization had me hooked from page one, and I didn't want to put it down), but I trusted this writer from the beginning, and when I understood where she was taking her readers I wanted to go back and reread parts just to appreciate how skillfully she steered the story. I suspect I'll be thinking about this one for awhile.

A Slow Fire Burning, by Paula Hawkins
Fun in the way Paula Hawkins's books are. A good way to spend a vacation day. Probably it's predictable, but I never try too hard to solve the mystery when I'm only spending one or two cozy, chilly afternoons with a book. (I think I like Ruth Ware better, but both writers are ones whose books I happily check out of the library when they're available.)

Filthy Animals, by Brandon Taylor
I think Brandon Taylor is a brilliant writer and I loved his novel Real Life last year. These stories are also well crafted and beautifully written, but they didn't hold me like his longer fiction. I enjoyed the book every time I picked it up to read a story, but I never felt compelled to go back to it, and in the end I read the last three together so I could add it to my 2021 list -- I'd almost forgotten I was reading it at all. I wonder if I would have been more drawn to it if it had been a collection of distinct stories or a novel-in-stories featuring Lionel, Charlie, and Sophie instead of a mix of stories featuring those characters and a few that seemed entirely disconnected.

Harlem Shuffle, by Colson Whitehead
Five stars because Colson Whitehead is a genius. I would probably not have been drawn to a novel described "a gloriously entertaining novel of heists, shakedowns, and rip-offs set in Harlem in the 1960s" -- sounds fun, but my reading list is long -- except that Colson Whitehead wrote it. I know I need to go back and read his earlier work, because the versatility of his writing is astonishing. The characterization in this story is phenomenal, as well as the brilliant evocation of a particular time and place. And it turned out to be exactly the book I needed to read to take me out of my own particular time and place, at the moment.

Crossroads, by Jonathan Franzen
Listen, I know we're supposed to hate Jonathan Franzen, and despite the fact that The Corrections is a book that lingers with me sixteen years after I read it, I was ready to be done with him myself after reading Purity (which wasn't an awful book, but I thought, you know, I don't need to be loyal to this writer). But when I read the synopsis of Crossroads, and when I picked it up in a bookstore and skimmed the first few paragraphs, I bought it. And when I sat down to read in earnest, it grabbed me exactly like The Corrections did, and I really, really loved it for all the reasons I loved The Corrections and there you go.

Begin Again: James Baldwin's America and Its Urgent Lessons For Our Own, by Eddie S. Glaude Jr.
I'm including this in my 2021 list because I'm closer to the end than the beginning. I came to James Baldwin rather late in my life and I'm still discovering him -- but teaching his essays to my juniors requires that I think beyond what personally resonates for me, too, and this book sets his work in the context of our own. I have so much more of Baldwin to read (and more is definitely on my list for 2022), and I'm glad to have this book alongside me as I do.

The Lincoln Highway, by Amor Towles
I'm also including this on my 2021 list even though I haven't quite finished, although I still might by tomorrow night. I couldn't wait to get my hands on this one after absolutely loving A Gentleman in Moscow, which remains one of the most immersive, satisfying reads of my life. This one, I am happy to report, lives up to my expectations. Absolutely wonderful characters, beautifully crafted sentences, and a story I just want to curl up with forever. It's been perfect for our snow days this week.

Note: I don't usually include audiobooks, because they're not my favorite. It's not that I don't consider them "real" reading (I do!) but they don't work for me in the same way; I can't fully appreciate the language and craft of stories I really love when I can't see the sentences. But that's not to say that I don't enjoy audiobooks in my own particular context: extended time on the road, and occasionally, on my daily walks (though I prefer podcasts for those).

Here are my top audiobooks for 2021:

American Predator: The Hunt for the Most Meticulous Serial Killer of the 21st Century, by Maureen Callahan
My favorite true crime podcast let me to want to learn more about Israel Keyes. Why didn't we ever hear about Israel Keyes? He's terrifying. He also probably killed someone wherever you live, by the way. And he spent plenty of time in Washington state (as do most serial killers, it seems), so I continued to be amazed that I haven't either been murdered or tripped over a human femur on one of my walks.

Anxious People, by Fredrick Backman
I LOVED THIS BOOK SO MUCH. As in, I might actually buy it just to have a hard copy to hug. I listened to the last 90 minutes on a 6-mile walk, tears streaming down my face the entire time. I recommend this book to literally everyone.

An American Marriage, by Tayari Jones
I think I'd have appreciated this a great deal if I'd read the physical book, but it worked well as an audiobook too. I loved the characters' voices, the structure, and their story. It was heartbreaking and tender even at its most painful moments.

Beartown, by Fredrick Backman
I'm currently listening to this one after a couple of short(ish) road trips over winter break; I have a bit left. It's powerful and intense, and the storytelling is what I've come to appreciate form Backman. I pretty much recommend his books to anyone, audiobooks or otherwise.

As always, I've already started a list for 2022, and I'm looking forward to the Most Anticipated Books of 2022 from Lithub and The Millions in the coming days. If you've made your way through my list, I assume you're reading your way through your own. And I believe reading matters, so: love and solidarity, Friends.