My favorite books in 2018

I'm wrapping up another year of this little book project and it's so fun to look back at the books I've read this year. I'm under last year's total (56!), as I just started my 45th book of the year last night. Barring some unexpected New Year's Eve reading binge, I'll end 2018 with 44 complete books read. In what has been a really busy year personally and professionally, I'll take it. I didn't set out to read a book a week like I did in 2017, but I found a need to keep that pace (or close to it.) I found myself getting twitchy if it took me more than a week to finish a book.

Some months were better than others. I read six books in August, but I was on vacation at the lake and did little more than read on the beach. I only read one book in September, which I can attribute to a busy work schedule and getting back into the back-to-school routine with the kids. Overall, I'm happy with my year of reading. And, coming up with the list of my favorites was easier than expected. I read some duds this year and read some masterpieces. And, I'm so glad I keep this blog because some books, I don't even remember reading!

Here's my top 5, which actually includes seven books (it's my blog and I'll cheat if I want to.) These weren't necessarily new books in 2018, just books I read this year. Maybe it will inspire you to read one of them in 2019! 

1. Beartown and Us Against You. Yes, these are two books. But, they're a package deal. Us Against You is the sequel to Beartown and you really can't read one without the other. They tell the story of a junior hockey team and the community that surrounds them. They're about sports and life and tragedy and heartbreak. They're beautiful and perfect and among the best two books I've read, not only this year, but ever. Fredrik Backman is a brilliant genius and two of his books were on my favorites list last year, too. Read these - read all of his books. You'll thank me later. 

2. The Music Shop I can only describe this as the perfect little book with incredible characters, a sweet story and a Spotify playlist that goes with it. I knocked it out in a day and, as I said in my original review, I felt like this book had been waiting for me my whole life. How can you go wrong with a neighborhood record store and a little love story? If you love music and characters, read this book today. But, fire up the Spotify playlist when you do.

3. The Nix This was more than just a book, this was an experience. I suppose that's what you deserve when you invest time into a 620-page book. But, heavy as it was to lug around the house, it never felt long. The Nix is the kind of book you miss when you finish it. It's about a guy whose mother abandons him at a young age and the strange crime she commits that brings them back together. In between, you learn about a family's history, a protest movement, video games, Choose Your Own Adventure books and how to write like a total badass. It's not just good, it's exceptional. I wish I could read it for the first time all over again.

4. House of Broken Angels "Despite a sad setup, House of Angels hums with joy." I'm not smart enough to write that sentence, but that's how an NPR book review describes this incredible book. That sad setup is that Big Angel, the patriarch of a Mexican-American family, is ready to die. But, he has a lot of other stuff to take care of first. What happens in these pages is the "other stuff" that gets in the way between birth and death. It's the stuff that really matters. As a reader, you just get to go along for the ride, meeting larger-than-life characters along the way. This book should be a movie, but it doesn't need to be because the author paints it all so vividly, you feel like you're living it right there with them. It really snuck up on me and stuck with me even more than I expected. I looked back at the review I wrote with a smile, remembering all that joy. 

5. The Power Would this book resonate so powerfully in the years before the MeToo movement? Hard to say. The fact of the matter is this book hit shelves at precisely the right time. What would happen if women had all the power? If by simply channeling an electricity inside them, they could render men helpless? The Power explores that reality. You find yourself cheering, then bracing yourself as you worry it will all go horribly wrong? It's a story that explores the idea of absolute power corrupting absolutely. Powerful is an understatement. 

Honorable Mention: Turn Around, Bright Eyes 

I can't celebrate a year of great reads without mentioning Rob Sheffield. I love this guy and all he writes. I read two of his amazing books this year - this one and Talking to Girls About Duran Duran. Both were fantastic. Sheffield is a music writer and a pop culture wizard. This book follows up Love is a Mixed Tape, in which he writes of music's role in his grief over the sudden death of his young wife (one of my favorite books I read last year). This book shows us life after that loss, as he moves to New York and tries to start over. It's about love and loss and grief and karaoke. I loved every word and every cheesy song reference. 

Dopesick

America, we have a problem.

If you've been paying attention, you already know that. The grip of opioids on men, women and children has not yet reached its peak and we're losing hundreds of people a day. Dopesick explains how it started, how it's escalated and how turning our back on (and criminalizing) those within its grasp is doing nothing to stop the spread of this addiction.

I'm not sure why I picked up this book, but I'm wondering if it should be required reading for law enforcement, journalists, teachers, lawmakers... Anyone who encounters people in the throes of addiction could stand to learn a little more about how they got there. And, anyone with a voice that can effect change in this country should know better all the ways that we have failed.

Beth Macy's reporting here is outstanding and exhaustive. She reaches back not just to the beginning of the opioid crisis in America, but to the drugs that took hold of parts of our country centuries ago. Because we forget, we're allowing history to repeat itself.

Macy chronicles the rise of Oxy in rural Virginia, the trials of its creators, the heartbreak of the desperate mothers in its wake. She walks you through the brief path from prescribed painkillers to the desperation of heroin. You'll feel powerless reading it, you'll find yourself shaking your head. Maybe you won't exactly excuse the crimes committed by those chasing the next high, but maybe you'll give pause and realize... it can take - and, maybe has taken - hold of someone you love. My step-brother's daughter of an overdose a couple of years back. She had supportive parents, a loving family and every chance in the world. I hadn't seen her in years and couldn't imagine how that sweet little blonde girl with the big, beautiful eyes could end up dying with a needle in her arm.

You'll read how it has crept into our communities, then into our homes. How almost every adult interviewed in this book started their adolescence taking prescribed stimulants like Adderall and Ritalin and ended up, years later, addicted to heroin. About how almost no one noticed - until it was too late.

I can't imagine that feeling - what it's like to give up everything to chase that first high. I can't imagine finally being ready to get help, only to find that for every treatment bed available in this country, there are five people who want help.

The book is frustrating, terrifying, painstakingly told and excruciatingly sad. It will wake you up to the problems facing every community in this country - and, you may end up feeling powerless to help.

The Hate U Give

There are times you know a book is important and perfect for the audience for which it's intended. You know that book strikes the exact right tone at the right tone. All those things can be true - and you still might not like the book in the end.

The Hate U Give had so much hype. It's a book about the shooting of an unarmed black teen, told from the perspective of the friend who witnessed it. I heard about it long before it was a movie and was told it was a book I "had" to read. No question I would check it out as soon as I saw it on the library shelf. 

I somehow missed that the book was YA. That doesn't mean it's not good, but it usually means it's a voice to which I can't exactly relate. The narrator is 16-year old Starr and I have no reason to believe the voice doesn't exactly capture the right tone. Again, I realize I wasn't the right audience, but the voice felt oversimplistic and it made it hard for me to get into the story. Overall, I can see why people loved this book, why they think it's a must read and why it strikes such an important tone at this point in history. But, for me, it felt simple and predictable. 

When Breath Becomes Air

"Death comes for all of us..."

It's a truth universally ignored and, quite often, feared. From the moment we are born, it is the inevitable fate that awaits us all. The only difference with someone like Dr. Paul Kalanithi is that he's been given a timeline of sorts for when that final bill will finally come through.

And with that begins a book that I will never forget. 

I've wanted to read this story since the hype began over its release in early 2016. It's the memoir of a neurosurgeon who faced - and wrote about - his own journey towards death. A finalist for the Pulitzer Prize, I knew the writing would be good and I knew the story would be powerful. It's the power of it all that also kept me at bay.

I'm terrified of death. My own and other people's. I often think about the idea that one day, it's all simply... over. So, reading a true and unflinching story of a man younger than me careening towards a death even he can't prevent didn't sound like the most enjoyable way to spend my time. Sometimes, though, you have to face what scares you to better understand why it frightens you so much.

So, I held my breath. And, I began. And, I held it until the end. Until the breath released in quiet sobs.

The brave, powerful end.

Paul Kalanithi's path took him from studying literature to medical school, as he hoped to better understand how our brain influences who we are. As he tells the story of his life in residency, you learn what an honest, humble and brilliant man he was. Just when he and his wife, who is also a doctor, were finally ready to begin their lives together, he's diagnosed with the lung cancer that will certainly kill him. You follow him through treatment highs and lows and revelations of what his life has become. But, that's not what makes this story so powerful. What makes it powerful is how he unflinchingly stares death down. 

Most powerfully, his oncologist won't evaluate his cancer in terms of months or years left to live. She encourages him instead to consider his values. What does he want to do with the time he has left. Continue practicing medicine? Take a different path in research? Write a book? Watching him make those choices will have you thinking of your own life, your own values. He has a timeline, but there's no reason to wait for a terminal diagnosis to consider what's most important in your life.

Kalanithi doesn't write about his last days before his death. He loses his strength long before that. Instead, the book that meant so much for him to write is finished by his grieving wife, who describes his final days - his final breaths. And shares how he would want his life remembered.

This book, while bleak in subject matter, somehow manages to be powerful and uplifting as well. It's a book that changes you, a book that will have you reevaluate the way you consider death - and life.

Eternal Life

Of all the book reviews that I've written on this blog, the one read by the most people is a review about a book that I HATED. If that's the trend, this one may be the most successful post of the year. Because, for me, this book was absolute torture.

I read about Eternal Life when I saw it was one of the NY Times notable books of the year. Consider this review the counterpoint.

Simply put, Rachel can't die. She's been alive for thousands of years and lived lifetimes all over the world, with different marriages, different kids, etc. Only one person on earth knows what that's like for her - a man with whom she made a vow that now makes it impossible for them to die.

Sounds interesting, right? The plot wasn't really the problem. I mean, the actual plot lines were a problem, but the general premise of the book is fascinating. If you could live forever, would you? If you could experience the joy of being with the ones you love, wouldn't you want it never to end? Well, Rachel didn't think it all the way through. What she didn't realize is that you also watch everyone you love die. You experience that grief over and over. Eternal life doesn't mean eternal happiness. It often means eternal grief.

I get it - you're still with me on this. It sounds fascinating. The real problem is that the author leaves too much on the table. She bounces between present day and events in the far distant past - but, the way she lays out the timeline of the past is confusing. She doesn't make either timeline interesting enough to make you want to know more. The characters aren't interesting or compelling enough to carry it through. I kept reading because I needed to know how it ended; I was disappointed in that, too.

Simply put, I feel like I lived a thousand lifetimes reading this. Like Rachel, I was just praying for it all to end.

Did I mention there's a love story, too? I can't. Don't make me talk about it.

I gave this book two stars on Good Reads. Why two and not one? The premise did stay with me. My grandma is 101 years old and, for years, has talked about how sad it is to watch so many people in her life die before her. Her parents, siblings, husband, one child, all of her friends. While she's experienced so much joy, there's sadness and loneliness, too.  The book also touches on the fact that the reality of death is what gives life meaning. Two stars for making me think, I suppose. But, I'd like to see the premise in better hands.

Elevation

This review will be a quickie, just like this book. After reading a 620-page monster, it was nice to pick up something I could finish in an afternoon. And something that was totally rewarding and, in my opinion, worth the hype.

I've been reading Stephen King for most of my life. I started with Thinner in 4th grade (which is crazy, considering I have a 4th grader and I can't imagine him reading some of the gruesome things I exposed myself to.) I've gone through phases where I read everything he writes, then backed off and thought I was "too smart" for it. Then, I read 11/22/63 and realized I'm actually kind of a moron - that book was like nothing I've ever read and I still think about it all the time. Anyway, I had no idea this book was coming out until it started showing up on all kinds of "notable books" lists.

Elevation is a quick read. It's not a short story (of which King is a master), but it's not a full-blown novel either. It's about 140 pages - and, the pages are small. Because of that, it's a nice, tight read. I started it at 2 in the afternoon and finished before 10. I took breaks to make dinner, put up a Christmas tree and watch the first Rocky movie with my kids. You could knock it out in an afternoon and be free for happy hour.

Elevation tells the story of a man who is experiencing bizarre, unexplained weight loss. Sounds like Thinner, right? But the difference here is that while the scale is showing the drop in pounds, his body isn't changing. He looks the same, his clothes fit the same, etc. Throughout his story, the drop in weight loss leads to an incredible lightness and he knows that, eventually, it will be impossible to function normally.

While dealing with this, our protagonist also manages to insert himself into a divide in his community that he's determined to resolve. Maybe one big gesture before there's nothing left can ensure a legacy he'll leave behind.

This book is simple, straightforward, interesting and easy. The characters are rich, the story is unique - just what you'd expect from King. It's also - dare I say? - sweet. There's no gore, no major twist, nothing that will keep you up at night. In fact, if you start before lunch, you'll be done before the sun goes down.

The Nix

Prepare for some gushing, people. This is one of the best books I've read this year and I now feel it's my responsibility to preach the gospel of Nathan Hill. Prepare to be evangelized.

When you make a decision to read a book that's 620 pages long, you make a choice. A choice to commit. You balk for a second because a book like that can swallow you up or overwhelm you. But, if you're lucky - lucky like I was when I picked up The Nix - it will absolutely consume you in the best possible way.

I opened page one and was HOOKED.

It's hard to describe what makes this such an incredible read; it's hard to convince someone to invest the kind of time it takes to read a book this long. But, this book was so good - the writing so fantastic, the characters so rich - I put it away in about 5 days. I thought about it when I wasn't reading it. I missed it when I was at work. It's that freaking good.

We quickly learn about a professor named Samuel whose mother abandoned him at age 11. We learn about the questions she left behind and how it affected his life. Then, his mother commits a bold, bizarre and public crime and circumstances that follow force mother and son to interact once again.

Cool plot, right? Well, that barely scratches the surface of what this book is all about. It's about mothers and sons, the life choices we make, the secrets we keep, the loves we leave behind, what truly haunts us. Nathan Hill does an incredible job intertwining characters and storylines and time periods. He even pulls off changing the narrative structure based on which character is the focus of a particular chapter (what he does with a video game addict's downfall about 3/4s of the way in is a stroke of genius.)  He makes you care about each character's narrative arc so much, you're personally invested in each one. Then, the way he brings them all together is simply masterful. I gasped out loud, not seeing a particular twist coming.

To read this book is an investment of your time. But, it's completely worth it. You'll have time over the holidays to read and relax, right? This might be the perfect excuse to slow down and bury yourself in truly great writing. Let an incredible book like this be your gift to yourself.

Heavy

Perhaps there's never been a more appropriate title of a book. Heavy. In about a million different ways.

I hadn't heard of this book until my brilliant, well-read co-worker Camie walked in my office and told me I had to read it. When we talked about it later, she had tears in her eyes. A few pages in, I knew why. The weight of this book is nearly oppressive at times - even for a middle-class white lady living in the opposite corner of America.

This book is not for everyone. It's easy to look away. You don't want to watch as Kiese Laymon describes his childhood in detail - of the things he saw and the way he felt. You don't want to believe that his well-educated mother could beat him as much as she loved him. You want to crack wide open each time you remember he's writing this book to his mother - as if we're reading a secret never meant to be shared.

Laymon is a creative writing professor now. But, this book is far from a redemption story or a "rags to riches" tale of success, against all odds. It's messy and it's hard and it's dark and you find yourself weeping for Laymon and trying to will him to make different decisions. You just wait for it all to get better - and you're reminded at every turn that life is not a linear process. You watch him succeed and fail and slide all over again, all the while clinging to the woman who has done so much to ensure his success and also stand in its way.

Laymon's is a story of weight and skin color and addiction. Of the messes we make within our own lives and our own families. Of the systematic oppression of entire classes of people - and about the lie we tell ourselves that people can escape their past simply by working hard and getting an education.

It's raw and it's real - and, it's heavy. 

And you absolutely should not look away.

The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry

When you find an author you like, read everything they've ever written ever.

That's where I am with Rachel Joyce.

First, it was The Music Shop, which had me in tears. I liked her novel Perfect, but not quite as much. Then along comes Harold Fry. A story that, for me, was a giant metaphor for the journey we call life (is that a Prince quote?) And, like life, it meandered at times into places I wasn't sure I wanted to follow.

Harold Fry is an ordinary man living an ordinary life. He lives with his wife, though they don't exactly live together. Like so many, they end up more like ships passing in the night, saying what they shouldn't and not always saying what they should. Then, one day, Harold gets a letter from an old friend named Queenie Hennessey. She's dying. She's writing to say goodbye. Harold is immediately floored by this information, but the reader doesn't yet know why. He immediately writes a reply and walks outside to mail it. But, he doesn't mail it. Instead, he decides to walk to deliver it to Queenie himself. He believes that as long as he's walking, she'll stay alive. It's hundreds of miles away and he doesn't have proper shoes, his phone, etc. Still, he walks. And discovers himself along the way.

The entire book is Harold's journey. We walk with him through the English countryside as he encounters challenges and odd characters. He finds people that bring him hope and finds people who make him remember things about his past. He experiences unexpected fame. He finds pleasure in the simple things and finds that clearing his head is also allowing his heart to crack wide open, exposing memories he's buried for years.

The book, at the start, held infinite promise. At times, it meandered for me and I was losing interest. It was exciting sometimes, boring at others and the emotion waxed and waned throughout. Then,when Harold's pilgrimage reached its destination at my knees nearly buckled. The narrator's voice in my head hushed almost to a whisper at the delicate scene that lay before him. I was back in - all in - and, the book felt almost precious until the end.

Once again, Rachel Joyce did not disappoint. Harold was one of those characters that will settle inside my heart for a long time. His journey was like all of our journeys - and the weight he carried was lifted just in time.

Pitino: My Story

Rick Pitino's teams are known for their defense. The basketball coach himself prides himself on teaching his teams discipline and hard work. So I guess it's no surprise that in his self-titled book, the ousted Louisville coach puts in a lot of hard work defending himself. Whether or not you like the book probably depends on whether or not you believe him.

I borrowed this book from a co-worker who warned me about what to expect. He also told me it was interesting to read about Pitino's career and how he ended up as one of the best-known (and most hated?) coaches in college basketball. But, my very smart co-worker Aaron also said the book was somewhat comical in Pitino's assertions that he knew nothing about the scandal in his program that was unfolding all around him.

If you're not a college basketball fan, there's really no reason for you to read this book. If you are a college basketball fan, you know plenty about the various controversies and scandals that brought Pitino down (strippers, adultery, shoe deals and recruiting violations.) It's somewhat fascinating to hear about how it all came crashing down from the man who was at the top of the pile when it did. But, there's very little satisfaction in it, too. It's not that I expected Pitino to use the book to unload his darkest secrets and transgressions. Still, it's really hard to believe he had no idea about all that was happening within his program. He was the king - and either he knew, or he was really bad at leading a program.

It bugged me that Pitino deflected so much. Even more, it bugged me how much he contradicted himself throughout. And, he completely glossed over details, too. Then, he ends with his advice for how to live a better, happier life. It all just felt... hollow.

I found parts of this book interesting, much of it confounding, some of it even confusing. I still like Pitino at the end of the day, but it's because I like the way he coaches, but not because of the man he portrays himself to be.

Mars Room

Sometimes, I just don't get it.

Sometimes, a book is critically acclaimed and widely praised and, in the case of The Mars Room, a finalist for the Mann Booker Prize - and for me, it falls completely flat.

I had such high hopes for this book after reading review after review about its characters and social commentary. I put it on my library holds list and waited anxiously for it to show up. I even raced through the first couple of chapters, knowing it was going to be transformative and enthralling.

Then, I ended up slogging through, waiting for some turn or twist or something that would show me why this book is being so celebrated. For me, it never came.

The Mars Room has a bit of an Orange is the New Black quality, in that it's set inside a womens prison and explores the backstory of the women who ended up there. The author did extensive research about our prison system today and the poverty and drug abuse that provides a common thread of the women who end up there. But, for me, there wasn't enough character development to really feel for any of the women - or the men that are featured as well.

It feels like the author tried to do too much. Is it social commentary? Is it narrative? Is it the problematic themes set forth by unreliable narrators? Is it black comedy? What does the Unabomber have to do with anything?

I do feel like a novel can accomplish all those things at once (except maybe the Unabomber part), but I don't think this book did it.

Looking at the Good Reads reviews, I'm not alone in thinking this. Yet, there are also plenty of people who got it and understand the critical acclaim. For me, I don't feel like I missed anything. I feel like The Mars Room truly failed to deliver.

The Blood of Emmett Till

"America is still killing Emmett Till..."

Think about that for a minute.

63 years after a group of white men kidnapped and murdered a 14-year old black child because they thought he disrespected a white woman, we - as a nation - are still killing boys like him. Whether it's guns, fists, marginalization or white supremacy, society is still guilty of unspeakable injustice.

This book is a lot. And, it's supposed to be. This story has been told for decades and Till's murder touched off many facets of the civil rights movement, but it has in large part been incomplete. This book and the confession of sorts it contains actually spurred the Department of Justice to reopen the investigation into Till's murder. It's powerful, it's eye-opening and it's as important to read as it is difficult.

I've been surprised this week in talking about this book how little people know about this case. It could be time, but more likely, it's geography. Living in the Northwest shields many from much of the awful history of what prompted the civil rights movement. If you're not familiar, Till lived in Chicago and was spending the summer with his family in rural Mississippi. The story has always been that he had the nerve to grab a white woman's hand in a grocery store, then whistle at her as she walked outside. That woman also claimed, for a time, that Till grabbed her around the waist and she had to struggle to escape. Whichever it was at the time, it was justification for murder at that time in that place.

After hearing her story, Carolyn Bryant's husband and others came to get Emmett Till in the middle of the night. Days later, his body floated up in the Talahatchie River, badly beaten and barely recognizable. His mother back home in Chicago insisted on opening her son's casket and showing his mangled body to the world. She never stopped fighting for an end to the injustice that led to her son's murder. Four days after hearing his story, a woman named Rosa Parks refused to give up her seat on the bus.

This book begins with Carolyn Bryant, all these years later, telling the author that the story the world believes about Emmett Till - the story she told about what happened in the store that day - wasn't true. He didn't grab her around the waist. He didn't grab her hand at all. Bryant couldn't remember exactly what happened or why the story was embellished the way it was, but she believes now that he did nothing that would have justified what came his way. All these years later, of course, it's much too late.

The book not only tells the story of Till's murder and the infuriating trial that led to the acquittal of the men who admitted killing him (the defense attorneys flat-out told the jury to ignore facts and evidence), it also lays out the climate of the south at that time. Many in Mississippi and other parts of the south believed black men were coming to take over the government, to take their land, and - most of all - to rape their women. Emmett Till personified that threat, even though he was a child. The narrative sounds so implausible - and, also so terrifyingly familiar.

You realize that Emmett Till's story only became the rallying cry that it was because his mother insisted on opening his casket. She lived for justice for her son until her dying day, just 15 short years ago. She never gave up fighting for him - like so many mothers of the current movement have done as well.

There are other stories here of unspeakable bravery. Men and women who risked paying the same price Emmett paid, just to make sure the truth was told. Like the man below who stood up in an all-white courtroom in the deep south and pointed a literal finger at the white men who killed a black child.

This is a tough read. It's tough to hear the details of a teenager's brutal murder. It's tough to realize that this happened in the relatively recent past - our parents were alive for this. And, it's tough to admit that while we have come a long way in the fight for equal rights, we still have a long way to go.

Harmless Like You

Is the desire to leave genetic?

I may be oversimplifying, but to me, that's the quintessential question in this book. Because he was abandoned by his mother as a child, will a man grow up and abandon his responsibilities, too?

I don't know why, but this is the second book I've read in recent months about an Asian mother who leaves her child behind without a trace. That child is left to grow up wondering - was it his fault? Where did she go? Would he leave his child, too? The previous book, The Leavers, was better than this one in my opinion, but both wove past and present together in a way that draws you in and keeps you reading, knowing you'll find out where the mother went along with the child who searches for her.

We learn the most about the woman who leaves when she is left herself. When her family goes back to Japan, she chooses to stay behind and live the life of an American teenager. She ends up being abandoned in other ways once she stays. It begs the question: to what do you cling when everything else slips away? Or are you better off if you keep moving so nothing else can hurt you? Is leaving a self-fulfilling prophecy?

The questions in this book are big ones, the writing is clean and the characters are understandably human. Still, I didn't love this book. Perhaps it felt too similar to The Leavers and the fact I read this one second made it feel.... second. 

It was critically acclaimed, though, so it's not a waste of time to find out for yourself.

Severance

I'll be honest, I feel a little dumb knowing you're reading this review. I mean, I appreciate it - but, I feel like there are more accomplished book reviewers that you could be reading right now (ones that don't use the term "book reviewers" for example.) It's just that this book hasn't been out for very long and a lot of major media outlets and really smart people have reviewed it in recent weeks. If you stumbled upon my review, know that. And, know that I'll do my best.

I actually ordered this book because I had listened to and read some of those smart people reviews. There was something about this book I was drawn to. I wasn't wrong; it appealed to me on a number of levels and it's coming back in waves a week after I've finished.

Severance is about a young woman at the beginning - and, the middle - of the end. The end of her relationships, the end of her young adulthood and, quite possibly, the end of the world. The daughter of now-dead Chinese immigrants, Candace is trying to make her way in NYC, worn down a bit by the pace of life and trying desperately to make her parents proud. She's so busy doing the "right thing: in life and in work that she seems oblivious to the fact an epidemic is wiping out the world's population. Even as her office closes and the city clears out, she goes on. She goes on, in fact, until it's almost too late.

The novel bounces back and forth between life before the end and life in the midst of it. It has shades of zombies without letting that genre define it. It's a book about family and the expectations on immigrant children, but that genre doesn't define it either. Overall, it's simply a story with strong characters, powerful plot and unexpected developments that keep you engaged.

Someone out there has written a smarter reflection on this, but that's all I want to give you. I want you to experience life the way Candace does, as she continues to strive for higher expectations, even as the world disintegrates around her.

Amateur Hour: Motherhood in Essays and Swear Words

Have we met? If so, you won't be surprised I picked up this book. Motherhood? Essays? Swear words? Call me Fraulein Maria 'cause those are a few of my favorite things!

I actually checked out this book because I literally judged a book by its cover. I was picking up a book about a serial killer at the library and this was next to the holds shelf. It had me at "pink grenade full of hearts." And the stuff about swear words. F-yeah, that got me, too.

What I found inside was a book that had me choking back a sob all the way through. There are stories about motherhood and marriage and why we should visit our grandparents. A story about how sad it is to say goodbye to your kids' elementary school when they move on to the next level. Essays that describe what marriage vows would look like if you wrote them 10 years or so after the wedding. What we think of the "hot chicks" who seem to dominate every phase of life. And, thoughts about how we'll someday miss the chaos and noise of a house full of young kids - even if we find ourselves cursing that chaos now.

This book cracked me wide open.

I haven't read many of them, but I know most books about motherhood can gloss over the madness. They tend to make us feel bad for wondering who we are aside from just breeders and glorified udder holders. This book acknowledges the uncertainties and insecurities, reminding us that feeling uncertain is what motherhood - parenthood - is really about. It's about teaching our kids to fly, then wanting to clip their wings when they do. It's honest and real and it made me wish my kids were newborns and also college seniors.

I loved it. And, whether you have young kids at home or grown kids who forget to call, there's something for you that will remind you of all that is overwhelmingly good - and, overwhelmingly hard - about this stage of life.

Maybe judging a book by its cover isn't so bad after all.

I'll Be Gone in the Dark

So, maybe you shouldn't read this if you sleep like the dead. And, you probably shouldn't read it when you're traveling and sleeping alone in a hotel room by yourself. I did both and lived to tell the tale.

I wish I could go back in time and read this before April. Before the man whose legacy haunted families across California was unmasked. Sadly, I had never heard of Michelle McNamara's book - and her death in the midst of writing it - until after the man was arrested. But, the chain of events that led to that arrest intrigued me enough that I felt compelled enough to read the book.

Michelle McNamara was a true crime writer who became obsessed with this man who stalked couples and singles for years. He was a man who slipped into homes in the dark of night, awakening them in their beds. Some were killed, some raped. In every case, he was careful enough to get away. McNamara's book went deep into the case files as she gained the trust of investigators to retrace his frightening, frustrating steps.

We now know who he was - a one-time police officer who abruptly stopped his crimes and went on to live a seemingly normal life. We know DNA helped solve what once appeared to be unsolvable. But at the time of her writing, he was still a monster without a face. And, while the book (and her life) ends without McNamara discovering the killer's identity, she sets the table for the dessert that would come two years later.

As I mentioned, I read this book when I was away from home, sleeping in a large, dark hotel room in Arizona. It made falling asleep difficult, but more than kept my attention. Was it the best-written book I've ever read? No. And I didn't expect it to be. But, as a reporter, I was enthralled by the meticulous detail she went through in order to lay out a case that spanned years and miles of highway.

The hardest part about reading this book was not stopping to Google details of the case now that the suspected killer is in custody. As soon as I was done, I dove deep into current articles to see if any of the theories about the man held up.

Should you read it? If you enjoy true crime, yes. If you worry about who may be stalking your darkened yards and streets at night, I wouldn't recommend it...

The North Water

To begin, a warning: this ain't no summer read. I may have read it in the summertime, but this isn't the "relax, escape and get away from it all" kind of book. This shit is dark and cold and unforgiving, much like the setting where it takes place. Still, I managed to read it in a single day, which should give you some idea of how rich and compelling it is.

The North Water is the story of a crew of men on a whaling ship in the 1800s. They all have a reason for being there; none of those reasons seems particularly noble. One man, Patrick Sumner, is an Irish surgeon trying to hide from a dubious act was involved in while in the Army. Another man, Henry Drax, seems like the very embodiment of the seven deadly sins. You know from page five or so that this isn't going to be a carefree tale. And the deeper the crew gets into the cold ice floes of the ocean, you realize that with nearly every page turn comes unspeakable horror.

It's hard to recommend this book because of the dark nature of what happens on and off the deck of The Volunteer. But, if you can get through descriptions of the worst of what man can do to one another, you may come through on the other side with a deep appreciate for how Ian McGuire brings this world to life.

If you're seeking relaxation or even redemption from a book, keep looking. But, if you want flawed characters, vidid scenery and page-flipping storylines, grab this book. Though, you may want to wait until winter to crack it open.

Perfect

You've heard it so often, it's an obvious cliche. Don't judge a book by its cover. In this case, I don't mean the actual book, as the cover is quite nice. I mean the family and characters you'll find inside it.

I didn't know anything about this book before I picked it up and I'm genuinely worried that anything I write here will give too much away. I chased down this book and any other by Rachel Joyce after reading The Music Shop earlier this summer (link to review). That book was damn near perfect itself. Her characters and dialogue were so rich and compelling, I knew it couldn't be a fluke.

The family in this book embodies perfect in the 1970s. Businessman father, devoted wife, two lovely children. For the mother in this book, nothing is ever out of place and nearly everything is for show. But, very early on, you sense the cracks in the facade. And, when a sudden turn of events shifts the young son's world on its axis, nothing will ever be the same.

Was it the two "leap seconds" added that year that destroyed everything? Or was the incident that broke them all going to happen no matter what?

As I said, I don't want to reveal too much, as there are so many layers and players here. While I didn't love it quite as much as The Music Shop, it's a fantastic read.

Wonderful Tonight

It's the dream, right? To be someone's muse? Maybe it's just me, but the idea that my very existence could stir deep creative feelings is pretty powerful stuff. I find myself wishing certain songs were written with me in mind (Shameless, She's Always a Woman & John Legend's All of Me come to mind.) Alas, it has not happened - at least not that I know of. So, I'll live vicariously through one of rock and roll's greatest muses, Ms. Pattie Boyd.

It's sort of embarrassing to admit, but while I knew of Pattie Boyd, I didn't know she had written this book until I read about it in Elle magazine. Specifically, I read an interview in which Taylor Swift questioned Boyd about her life. I'm not a T-Swift fan, but the Boyd half of the article was enough for me to place it on my library 'holds' list immediately.

Pattie Boyd was a model and photographer in her own right. But, much of her public life was defined by the men she loved. Or, more specifically, the men who loved her. First, she met George Harrison at the height of Beatlemania. He loved her so much, he wrote the song "Something" about her "Something in the way she moves attracts me like no other..." That's a hell of a love letter, George. But, life wasn't all Yeah Yeahs and Ob-La-Das. He got heavily into drugs and chanting and wasn't really navigating well the fame that comes with being a part of the most famous musical group of all time. So, while she loved George and he clearly loved her, another man was waiting in the wings with Boyd as his muse.

That man was legendary musician - and, friend of George Harrison - Eric Clapton. During her marriage to Harrison, Clapton was everything but subtle about his love for Pattie Boyd. After reading an old Arabian poem about forbidden love that contained a character named Layla, he attached that name to Boyd. Yeah, that little song Layla? That's about her, too. Eventually, she gave into the passionate musician, divorced Harrison and married him. And, if you couldn't guess from the title of her memoir, Clapton's Wonderful Tonight is about her, too. He literally wrote it about her while she was getting ready to go out and couldn't decide on an outfit. If my husband's waiting impatiently for me to get ready to go somewhere, he sure as hell aint writing songs about it. See? I'm no muse.

The book follows Boyd's life through the 1960s and 70s with a perspective very few could share. She saw rock and roll not from the stage but from the wings. She was close enough to feel the trappings of fame and yet far enough removed to feel the weight it brings on families left at home. You read this book wishing for a better outcome for all of them, already knowing how quickly some of those lights burned out.

The writing in this book isn't terrific and I found myself wishing Boyd would choose herself instead o these men. But, she's raw and real about what happened and her role in all of it. And, the desperate love letters from Clapton are worth more than the price of admission.

In many ways, this is a cautionary tale about blind passion and love. It's also a fascinating look inside an era of music we'll likely never see again. 

She may have lost in love and missed her opportunity to have a family. But, those songs are a hell of a trade off.

Starvation Heights

There are secrets all around us. Mysteries from the past that some would prefer stay buried. This is one of those stories that, despite living in Washington for almost 20 years, I've never heard. And, the book that pulls back the curtain on a madwoman will absolutely stay with me.

Before I read this book, I had never heard of the little town of Olalla. It's an unincorporated community on the Kitsap Peninsula, a long way from where I live. I had also never heard of Dr. Linda Hazzard. But, the author of this book lives there now and when he heard about Dr. Hazzard and the old sanitarium she ran, he dove deep into the secrets of this community.

Early in the 20th century, two wealthy British sisters found themselves under Dr. Hazzard's care. She had written about fasting and how abstaining from food from long periods of time could cure almost any ailment. The sisters weren't sick, per se, but had money and time and were fascinated by this method. As soon as they came under her care, their health declined and it took extreme circumstances to bring Dr. Hazzard's methods into light and, ultimately, into the criminal justice system.

This book is fascinating in its detail and research. It's a troubling look at life at that time, in that remote part of the country. It gets tedious at times as every detail is recounted, from initial starvation to a criminal trial. Still, it's a compelling read on a haunting subject, as you try to imagine these two helpless sisters, literally starving and cut off from the world.

It also leaves open the possibility of so many more victims who came under Dr. Hazzard's spell. 

Kanye West Owes me $300: And other true stories from a white rapper who almost made it big

It's dangerous to buy someone a book.

Not dangerous like a knife fight or running from a cougar. But, dangerous in an intellectual sort of way. 

Or is that just me?

As the title of this blog will imply, I'm kind of a book snob. I won't publicly ridicule others for what they read (at least not out loud), but I'm picky about what I read myself. There are a few reasons for that. For one, I don't have a ton of free time. I'm a mom and I have a full-time job and I spend a lot of time at Target and whatnot. Also, I was an English major, so I had to read a lot of books I didn't care for. That means now, I read only what I like to read. And, if someone buys a book for me or recommends something, I feel pressure to read it. If I trust your suggestion and I love the book, awesome. But, most often, I'll be mad at your if your advice or purchase was wrong.

What does that have to do with Kanye West? Well, this book was a gift. A former co-worker and his wife sent me this for my birthday and I had never heard of the book before. Knowing the Regimbals, though, I knew this would be good. This was a risk for them with immense reward for me. After devouring this book in one day, the Regimbals can buy me a book anytime.

I had never heard of Jensen Karp before I read this book, but now I know that he is engaged to Topanga! Before he fulfilled the fantasies of every dude who grew up in the 90's, he was a white kid from Calabasas trying to make it in the rap game. He started, in fact, when he was 12. He and a buddy performed at some talent shows and other random events, headlining with a song that was basically trash-talking rap youngsters Another Bad Creation (see below...)

That led to a few gigs, then fizzled out. It wasn't until Karp started calling into an LA radio show and competing in rap battles that his future was laid out in front of him. 

Things went well. REALLY well. Until they didn't. And, since you've never heard of his rap alias Hot Karl, you know that his rap career ended without a hit.

This book tells the story of the meteoric rise and subsequent fall of Hot Karl. It speaks of encounters with music royalty (Mya!) and a one-sided feud with actor/singer Tyrese. It also explains the rather sweet story of how Kanye West ended up indebted to him for $300.

It's a quick, funny, enlightening read. If you love 90's rap and hip-hop, that's a bonus. But, you don't have to know the members of the Wu-Tang Clan to appreciate a guy who brings his mom on stage, dressed like Nelly.

Thanks to the Regimbals for taking a chance on buying me this book. The rest of you? Stick to my Good Reads "Books I want to read" list for your future purchases.

Us Against You

You know those books where you have to keep a pen and paper (or iPhone notes app) handy so that you can write down the quotes you find most profound? 

This is that book. You couldn't write them all down if you wanted to.

You know those books where you nearly choke up every 50 pages or so, only to close the book and sob?

Yeah, this is that book, too.

And, it's every one of Fredrik Backman books that I've had the pleasure of reading.

This Swedish author writes so beautifully, so eloquently, you find yourself jumping to the next page, waiting to see if he could possibly keep it up. Backman reaches into your chest on page 1. Then, for the next several hundred pages, he holds your heart in his hands. He'll gently squeeze it from time to time. Then, he'll grip it just enough hard that it breaks. Always, though, you feel that you're respected in the vulnerability you've given over to him. His books are, simply, breathtaking

Us Against You picks up where his book Beartown leaves off (review here.)  I do think you should read that one before this one. He reflects back enough that maybe you wouldn't need to, but I don't know why you wouldn't. The characters he brings into your life deserve two books, at the very least. So, read Beartown, then immediately pick up this book and it's like you never left.

Beartown is a town in the woods, defined by ice hockey. They live and die for what happens between the goals, whether they play the sport or not. It's all that gets them through the dismal winters and the weakening economy. 

In the prequel to this book, a horrific act divides them. People choose sides - and nothing will ever be the same. Us Against You is the aftermath of that act and that division. He goes deeper into the characters we fell in love with in Beartown and gives us insight into some that were only shadows in the first book.

It's a book about sports, about families, about fathers and sons and mothers and daughters. It's about teenage friendships, about the pride we have in the towns we complain about. It's about how small events define our lives. And, it's really fucking beautiful.

I dont want to share too much because I want it to unfold in your hands the way it did mine. I want you to put your heart in Backman's hands and give yourself over to the people of Beartown.

(Then go read all of his other books because they're all damn near close to perfect. Here's my favorite.) 

Circe

She turned Odysseus's men into pigs.

She used magic to transform her enemies.

She was banished into exile.

But, what if she was a hell of a lot more than that?

That's the premise behind Madeline Miller's Circe, which I finished more than a week ago but that has been hanging with me ever since. There's so much here to interpret from Greek mythology that, as all great myths do, has meaning today. As a woman, this one hit home even harder.

I read this immediately after reading Miller's Song of Achilles, which came out quite awhile ago but that I was hesitant to read. You can read my review of that one here. I felt like it made sense to stay within the genre and there was just enough slight crossover between the two that it felt right to read them together.

Like the other, Circe can be criticized as a book that oversimplifies a classic tale. That's what I liked about it, though. It doesn't feel "dumbed down" - it feels accessible. And, though she's a sorceress or a nymph or at the very least a magical witch, it feels relatable, too. Much more than the mythology I tried to read in high school and college.

Circe's a complicated woman, to be sure. She's exiled to an island and relies on her magic to keep herself safe. If you believe in Miller's interpretation, she's widely misunderstood. This book reveals motive behind the magic and the struggles of a woman forced to go it alone, facing danger from nature and from the men who come upon her shores (holy crap, that sentence proves I need to read some non-mythological fare for awhile.) I came to see Circe as strong and weak, as victim and as vulnerable. Like so many women, the outsiders try to see her as one thing or another, not the combination of many.

I read a New York Times interview with the author in which she talks about how "Circe as a character is the embodiment of male anxiety about female power... of course, she has to be vanquished."

By revisiting Circe's story, but this time with Circe recast, you feel her more as a representation of the criticism women face while showing their strength to the world.

This book is long, but not complicated. It's an easy read, in fact. And, it's the kind of story that has made me think more in the days since I finished it about the role of women in literature and culture - and how so much - yet so little - has changed.

Song of Achilles

When I was a freshman in high school, my friends and I made a video adaptation of The Odyssey with what was probably a 20-pound video camera. It involved a toilet, my family's swimming pool and my friend Donna doing a hilarious imitation of the gender-ambiguous character "Pat" from Saturday Night Live.

What does that have to do with anything? Well, that's my last touch with Greek mythology. For that reason, Song of Achilles wasn't on my radar and isn't a book I would naturally pick up off the shelf. In recent months, though, it kept coming up in random articles I read. Then, my insanely smart and well-read co-worker offered to loan it to me. I decided the Fates must be speaking to me and I gave it a shot.

Song of Achilles is a unique take on the Greek figure most of us only know about because of that tendon that bears his name. I remembered a bit about his story, but not a lot. For that reason, I was enthralled from the beginning and wasn't entirely aware that I was being taken on a unique journey.

This book is told not by Achilles, but by Patroclus. Patroclus is exiled as a child and ends up in the care of Achilles' father. The boys become friends in childhood, then become much more than that. Song of Achilles is about the Trojan war, but more than that, it's a love story between these two men. You follow their journey across the seas, all the while knowing, as they do, that a prophecy predicts Achilles' demise.

I predicted this book would be heavy-handed. I thought the mythology would put me off and that I'd never keep the characters straight. Instead, I fell in love with the love story between these two men and followed with them as their hearts grew heavy, knowing that death would end it all. And, I learned that it's possible to have a story with a surprise twist, even when the ending is foretold.

I've read some reviews from very smart New York Times people who hated this book and the romance with which it's told. I'm good with that. Sometimes, it's okay to love the love story and to get lost in it. But, Greek mythology purists whose experience with the genre go beyond high school class projects may not be able to suspend the weight of the original tales to really enjoy it.

As for me, I'm sticking to the genre and tonight will crack Circe - the new book by the same author. I'm about to find out if it's overkill.