Razorblade Tears

 

One review of this book promised "great Gothic geysers of blood." Which would be a hell of a title, actually. That's not why I chose to read this book, but it certainly lived up to that.

Lots of blood. Lots of killing. Lots of violence.

Too much unnecessary dialogue. 

Too many metaphors.

Razorblade Tears is the story of two dads - one white, one Black - whose sons were married to each other and were brutally murdered. The dads weren't good to them in life because of their sexuality. They decide to come together and dig back into their criminal pasts to avenge their sons' deaths.

That's the plot; you could figure that out from the jacket.

After reading the whole book, that's basically it. No hidden messaging. No major plot twist. Just... that.

It was fine. There were some interesting moments, it kept me turning the pages. But, when it got done, it just didn't feel very far from where it started.

Where the Deer and the Antelope Play

 

I swear to you, Dax Shepard has a publishing company because every time he has someone on his podcast that writes a book, I buy the book. In this case, I guess I checked out the book from the library, but you get my point.

I've always loved Nick Offerman, but it wasn't until I heard him on Armchair Expert that I knew I had to read this book. 

It's sort of  a strange choice for me on the surface, as it's a book about the outdoors and I'm a decidedly indoorsy person. But, he's so dang charming and the book starts in Montana, so how could I resist?

I expected I might like this book, which describes our relationship to nature through several scenarios and settings. I had no idea I'd love it so much I finished it in just over a day. 

The best part about this book is that you can hear Offerman's voice throughout. That very distinct voice and cadence translates seamlessly to the page. I could have listened to the audio book, but reading it, I heard his voice in my head. Ron Swanson, talking about tromping through Glacier Park? Sign me up!

Overall here, Offerman's book gently (and sometimes overtly) urges us to examine our relationship with the outdoors. Turn off the phones. Leave the headphones at home. Just walk outside and appreciate what's already here. He gets political at times. He'll make you laugh out loud (on a plane, like a weirdo). And, he's encouraged me to not only maybe try getting outside once in awhile, but more likely to just check out more of his books and cuddle up at home.

One of my favorites of the year!

The Great Glorious Goddamn Of It All

 

What a delightful little book!

Okay, it's a book about mining in Idaho and people die at labor was a real mess. But, the book itself is really fun to read and filled with fascinating characters.

This book is about the last days of the lumberjacks through the eyes of 99-year old Weldon Applegate. He's a crotchety fella with fantastic dialogue and I could picture him from the opening pages. He's looking back at his life in the tiny logging town of Cordelia, Idaho. His time as a boy when he lost his mom, then lost his dad to the call of the woods.

You'll read a story about the history of the northwest, about bootleggers and lumberjacks who were seeing their way of life dying out. It's a relatively quick read, but one I enjoyed through almost every page.

Madam: A biography of Polly Adler, Icon of the Jazz Age

 

I sure do like a book about old timey sex workers.

I first heard about Madam - and, Polly Adler herself - when the author of this book was on CBS Sunday Morning. I'll buy anything that appears on CBS Sunday Morning; it's like my QVC. Anyway, as soon as I saw this story and heard about Adler's story, I dropped the request on the library website.

Polly Adler's story is uniquely American, though she herself was an immigrant from Belarus. She came to this country with nothing, poor and passed from family member to family member. After working at low-paying jobs, she finally realized the real money at this time in New York City was in the brothels that were frequented by everyone from professional athletes to prominent politicians. 

Polly took that idea and ran with it all the way into history. She was THE madam of the day and an absolute legend in New York City. History may not remember her name, but the imprint she had on that city in that time was undeniable.

This book was about sex work in the Jazz Age to a point, but was also a fascinating look at the Jazz Age in general. That combined with the history of New York City makes this a fascinating - albeit long - read.

Leave the World Behind

 

I need to stop reading about the end of the world during a pandemic. Yet, here we are again.

Leave the World Behind starts as a relatable adventure: a white family escapes the city for a vacation in upstate New York. They rent a home and immediately settle in to a routine that describes most of the vacations I've taken in recent years: kids in the pool, lazy afternoon dinners, too much wine, vacation bliss. Then, things go south - and fast.

There's a knock at the door of this rural home and a Black couple stands on the doorstep. It's their home, it turns out. They rented it out to the family. But, there's been a mysterious blackout in New York City and they decided to come north to get some refuge. 

Immediately, the wife in the rental family is skeptical. Who are these people? Can we trust them? Are they too respectable looking to be Black? The wayward couple recognizes it all and eases the family's minds enough to allow them - the owners of the house! - to settle in the family's basement until they decide what to do next.

Everything is suspicious. There's no phone service, no internet, no information about what's happening in the world around them. What they quickly learn is that none of it is good and these two families need to decide what to do next, while strangers under this one roof.

Did I like this book? I mean, I think so? It was fascinating enough to keep me reading and guessing. It's been weeks since I finished this book and I feel this lingering sense that the ending was unsatisfying.

My Monticello

 

I'm not a short story fan. I can't explain specifically why, but it feels just too jolting to wrap up what could be a novel in a few pages. This book is absolutely the exception and has such a fascinating premise in the main story that I can already imagine what a movie version could look like.

There are a couple other stories that serve as powerful warm-ups for the main event, but I'll focus this review on the story that makes up most of this book. It's a concept so original, so powerful, so metaphorical that I absolutely found myself wanting more.

Da'Naisha is a young Black woman living in Charlottesville, Virginia. We quickly learn she's a descendent of Thomas Jefferson and Sally Hemmings. When white supremacists take over their city and put its Black residents at risk, Da'Naisha and others flee into the hills outside of town. They find themselves at a former home-turned-tourist attraction Monticello, a place where the white narrative was the only story told here for decades.

Da'Naisha and the group settle in to Monticello, finding shelter in the house and even working the surrounding grounds. This site, once the home of hundreds of Black slaves, becomes their sanctuary from the racist white men who want them dead.

I don't want to reveal too much about the powerful story that unfolds. The premise enough should have you hooked. 

Unbound

 

I'm starting to wonder if the podcasts I listen to are secretly conspiring to make me buy books.

Unbound is an example of another book I hadn't heard of until I heard Tarana Burke on a podcast (Glennon Doyle's podcast this time.) Halfway through the episode, I hit pause and opened another tab to order this book.

Not enough people know Tarana Burke's name, but they absolutely should. She's the originator of the Me Too movement before it was a Hollywood hashtag. Growing up as the victim of sex abuse, she always assumed she had done something wrong. She was the one who broke the rules and somehow deserved what happened to her. It wasn't until she unburdened herself from that secret that she discovered how many other women would hear that story and say "me, too."

Burke's book begins the day she realizes the mission she'd worked on for years was being co-opted as a hashtag. While initially annoyed and even horrified, she eventually figured out how to embrace it and see her messaging amplified.

Unbound tells the story of Burke's life from childhood to activist. While I didn't grow up in nearly the same circumstances, I found Burke's story powerfully relatable. Her story deserves to be told and celebrated for the change she made in our world.

Cloud Cuckoo Land

 

From my shameful DNF of the last book to what was one of my favorite books this year, I embraced the 600+ page Cloud Cuckoo Land from day one and wished it would never end.

Anthony Doerr is a master, we know. All the Light We Cannot See is one of  my all-time favorites. And, sometimes you just need a sweeping, epic story.

How can you describe a book that spans centuries from 15th century Constantinople to modern-day Idaho? Orphans and professors and people living in space? Somehow, though, Doerr brings them all together in such a seamless way, I never worried for too long how they would all come together.

This book feels like a magical childhood story, science fiction and history all wrapped into one. Add to that the struggles of a single mom with an Autistic son. Even the stories of the family living in space in an attempt to populate another planet seem relatable.

It's too hard to sum it all up, but if you like a good story that truly transports you, don't be intimidated by the weight of this book and you will be rewarded.

Harlem Shuffle

I feel like I have to give my street cred card back. The street cred card that says "This Woman Reads Good Books." Because while this book is on every list of the best books of 2021 and I have loved every other thing Colson Whitehead has written, this was my one DNF of the year.

Did not finish.

Quit in shame and never looked back.

I'm sorry, everyone. I just couldn't get into it! I kept trying - I made it halfway through. Then, I found myself not even caring what happened to the main characters and I knew it was time to let it go.

It wasn't the quality of the writing. Whitehead has such a rhythm to his work that feels different in all of his books. It wasn't the subject matter. I liked reading about Ray Carney's attempts to live life as a legitimate businessman in Harlem in the 1960s. I was intrigued by the criminal element and the stories it told about that time in New York City. 

I just felt like it wasn't going anywhere and I wanted off the ride.

There are a million reviews of this book that are glowing and I definitely think those folks know more about this stuff than I do. I just found myself asking for grace (from myself) for deciding to move on from what I know will be a celebrated book in literature.

 

      

 

The Penelopiad

 

If I had to live with one literary genre forever, it would be "Mythology When The Women Finally Get To Speak." 

I love every book I've read like this - Circe, Silence of the Girls, etc. This one was by far the most creatively, uniquely written and it felt a little like sinking into a warm bath.

The The Odyssey, Homer is just sailing around getting in trouble. We barely hear about Penelope, who is faithfully waiting at home. This is her chance to tell her story and Atwood does it with a modern twist on her voice and what one review called "a story that becomes as wise at it is haunting."

I laughed out loud reading this. I ached for Penelope. I embraced this genre once again with a verve that has me ALMOST reaching for the classics again. Then, I remember who was telling those tales and think again. 

Should We Stay or Should We Go

 

I had such high hopes for this book and, in the end, I'd say it met seven out of 10. Style points for originality and subject matter for sure. Though, I'll admit, it lost me a little at the end.

This book focuses on a couple with varying opinions about life. After watching the death of her dad from Alzheimer's, our protagonist Kay and her husband start talking about when life is worth living. Is it worth decaying over time to a point where you don't recognize yourself and are a burden on others? That's when they make a deal: if they're still alive when they turn 80, they'll end their own lives. 

It's all well and good when that date is far in the distance. But, by the time they turn 80, Kay feels like they have so much life still to live! And Cyril, obsessed with understanding the outcome of Brexit and the COVID pandemic, wonders if he should forget his promise and see how it all plays out...

They make their decision and we see the fallout. Then, the book turns upside down.

In the second half of the book, we see multiple parallel universes. What happens if she survives and he doesn't? And vice versa? What if they end up in nursing care? What about cryogenics?? We see how every scenario would play out and, if you're like me, you'll keep changing your mind about which outcome is best.

I love the concept of this book and the characters. Like I said, though, after I got through the first few 'alternate endings', I just wished for a conclusion. 

What Happened To You

 

I know I'm supposed to like this book. I'm supposed to like it because Oprah said so! I mean, she didn't, but.. It's Oprah!

I was fired up to read this book, as I've spent much of the last couple of years learning more about the impact of trauma on people's lives. Not that I feel like I've had deep trauma, but this movement to recognize trauma is fascinating to me and is a much better way to evaluate people and relationships.

This book was lauded by every podcast interviewee, but I'm wondering if those who were so enthralled by it actually read it. It would have been much better as an audio conversation than a book (audio book, perhaps?)

The concept is that the book is a conversation between Oprah and Dr. Perry, who is a leading expert on the effects of childhood trauma. But, to me, it didn't work as a written convo. I found myself wondering if both of them just liked hearing themselves talk too much for it to be insightful.

The message here is important - that what happens in our childhood shapes us forever. I just feel like the message can be - and, has been - delivered in much more compelling formats.

Murder at the Mission

 

Shortly before reading this book, I spent a beautiful night in the Marcus Whitman Hotel. Still the tallest building in Walla Walla, Washington, it's long been THE place to stay for people coming to the small town. We went for our anniversary to drink wine in the gorgeous vineyards. Everywhere you go, there are reminders of the Whitmans and their mission. 

In this book lies the real history of their legacy.

I've known for a long time that the stories we grew up learning about Native Americans in the West were problematic. This book lays all of them bare. The Whitmans were just the start in many ways. And we still have a long way to go before the horrors committed against tribes in this region are recognized.

This book focuses primarily on Marcus and Narcissus Whitman, who came to the Walla Walla area from the east coast at a time where missionaries were in high demand. Their very marriage, in fact, was formed so that they would come west. They set up their mission near what is now the town of Walla Walla, but early writings show the relationship they had with the Cayuse Indians was not at all a harmonious one.

The way we often hear the story is that the missionaries brought disease to the tribes, so the tribes murdered them. On the surface, that is true. But the intricacies of the relationship leading up to the Whitman murders cannot be ignored. There were others pulling strings, there was resentment and more.. And when the Whitmans were murdered, it set off a chain of events that is still being felt today.

This book is rich in history and, towards the end, felt more like a textbook than it did at the start. However, as someone who lives in this region of the country where so much racial reckoning is underway, it's an important read to remind us there is still so much for which to atone.

Work Happy

 

I'm not coordinated enough to read two books at once, but this was a little amuse bouche I snuck in and I'm so glad I did.

I've been a longtime admirer/disciple of Jill Geisler. She was one of the first women TV news directors in the country and has since become an incredible coach, scholar and trainer. She doesn't just coach about TV news (though she's still really good at that). She also writes books, lectures and more about the things we can do to improve life for our co-workers. 

Most of Geisler's principles in the book I've heard before, through lectures or other trainings. Still, holding this book in my hands gave me a tangible reason to look again at how I'm managing my team. Everything feels like a reset, mid-way through this pandemic. While much of what we've done as bosses feels like triage, getting back to the principles of what makes us good bosses felt like a great refresher. And now that I have the book on my shelf, I can go back and remind myself of these lessons when I feel that joy slipping away.

Her lessons focus on being a good coach and mentor, setting boundaries and showing just enough of yourself to really connect. I'm forever grateful for Geisler's presence in my life and even more grateful she passes these lessons on to the world.

Your Heart is a Muscle The Size of A Fist

I need a step back to really appreciate this book. Now, a few weeks past finishing it, I realize what an incredible story it told.

This book surrounds the WTO riots in Seattle in 1999. What started as a protest quickly deteriorated into vandalism and violence. Police used tear gas, protesters broke windows. It may sound a little familiar now, but this was the protest that defined Seattle and much of the unrest often expressed in the Pacific Northwest.

This book tells the story of the riots from several perspectives. From police officers, from protesters, from a diplomat who came to the WTO to hopefully be taken seriously after years of trying. They all converged in a small part of the city on that day and no one came away unscathed.

I just read a review that said the subject got away from the author and that the novel ended up being a "trainwreck." I, however, think that it explores riots and protests the way we should all approach them: by understanding the people and the stories behind the action.

Nightbitch

 
Nobody was more thrilled that I was reading this book than my two sons, who seemed to giggle every time they read the cover.

They would have been even more titillated if they had read the book itself.

Nightbitch was novel du jour this summer, showing up on every booklist I could find. I know we're not supposed to judge a book by its cover, but how could you not? And when you hear the plot - a stressed-out mother who's slowly turning into a dog at night - well, how could you resist?

I fell victim to all of those things. I loved the first half. Then, I found myself thinking this would have been a better short story.

There's so much to relate to here for anyone who has ever been the mother of a newborn. Your body is no longer your own, your brain is fried, you find yourself dreaming of running away in the middle of the night. Your hair is messy, you smell like someone else's barf... It's a life-altering, character-changing experience.

In this book, the woman - referenced only as "the mother" - truly believes she's transforming into a dog. Hair is growing in strange patches around her body, she begins craving raw meat. She even goes as far as to assume other mothers she knows are, in fact, dogs she sees around the neighborhood. Add to all of this, she has an absentee husband who works out of town and only comes home on the weekends to "rest" and gently pat her on the head.

Hell of a plot, right?

Somewhere around halfway through, though, the metaphor started to go a little far. Maybe I'm too dense, but I couldn't tell what was metaphor anymore and what actually might have been happening. I don't know if the author intended for that confusion, but it made me more frustrated than intrigued.

If you've ever been the mother of a newborn, I do think it's worth a read. There are observations here that will feel somehow comforting, even has this bitch goes a little too far off leash.

Quarantine Life from Cholera to COVID-19

 

I believe I suggested earlier not to read a book about a pandemic during a pandemic. If you must, this work of non-fiction is a worthy exception and I'm glad I was not only ask to read it, but to interview the author as well.

Dr. Kari Nixon is a humanities professor in Spokane where I live. She's a great Twitter follow and a great TV interview! She also has a really interesting way of looking at COVID-19, as someone who studies 19th Century life and medicine from the humanities perspective.

I'd heard from a co-worker that this book made her feel hopeful somehow about the times in which we're currently living. Then, Dr. Nixon asked me to host a book discussion through our local indie bookstore. That was the push I needed to begin

Dr. Nixon calls herself a "disease lover" - she's fascinated by how close we're all connected when it comes to infectious disease. Her book not only discusses how society has thus far adapted to the pandemic, but also how it mirrors pandemics and diseases of the past. 

This was a fascinating read about how, against so many odds, humanity has survived plagues and smallpox and HIV and beyond. It's about trusting our gut, listening to voices that wouldn't always be listened to, and remaining hopeful right now. When you're able to look at other pandemics from the past, it really does make you more hopeful about the future.

I loved this book and Dr. Nixon's writing. I loved chatting with her and getting to ask all the questions I had when reading it. And, I loved being a know-it-all about past diseases and viruses after I read it.

I highly recommend it, even after this pandemic is (mercifully) over.

Animal

 

Summer came and left without a warning...

That's both the reason I am so far behind on these book reviews AND the opening lyric of one of my favorite Richard Marx songs! Yes, I have more than one favorite Richard Marx song (hello, Hold on to the Nights?!?!) But, as I finally clear some time on a Sunday afternoon, I realized I was behind on these reviews. 

NINE BOOKS BEHIND.

Yikes.

Starting here, to a book for which I had high hopes, but didn't quite get there for me. I absolutely devoured Taddeo's non-fiction book Three Women. This one started strong and was incredibly dark in places, yet still left me wanting more.

Every review you see will say this is a story about feminine rage. Our protagonist is a woman wronged by men at nearly every turn (who also does a fair amount of wrong-ing of her own.) After witnessing a violent act, she packs up and moves across the country in search of answers only one person can give her. She's looking for revenge and looking to be avenged. She's an unreliable narrator, which is what makes the book compelling. But the darkness her character experiences - and delivers - didn't, for me, lead to a worthy payoff.

Perfect Tunes

 

I had high hopes.

I read it in a single day on two flights.

I was disappointed.

Sometimes, it's that simple.

Emily Gould is a relatable writer who builds strong characters I can relate to. She started with a great premise: a single mom struggles what to reveal to her daughter about the girl's father, who was a musician with whom her mother had a brief relationship. He died and became something of a music legend.

It could have been a story about moms and daughters. It could have been a story about hereditary depression. It could have been a story about the way the world idolizes the dead. Instead, it tried to be all of those things and fell short.

Not much else to say. I didn't HATE it, but I didn't particularly like it either. At least I didn't spend a week before I figured that out.

How the Word is Passed

 

"How do you tell a story that has been told the wrong way for so long?"

Read this book. Just order it, go check it out, download it on your magical book-reading device, whatever. But, read. this. book.

I had read quite a bit about Clint Smith's book before I checked it out, but I was honestly worried it would read too much like a text book. I could not have been more wrong. Smith's writing is eloquent and beautiful and in stark contrast at times to the horrific stories that he reveals (he describes his grandma's voice as sounding like the front porch of a home where everyone you love is inside. Are you kidding me??) 

This book should replace what all of us learned in school about slavery. It should be required reading.

In Smith's book, he sets out to reveal the real history about slavery in America, most specifically in places where it has somehow faded into the background. The story is told through visits to places like Monticello, the Angola Prison in Louisiana, and the House of Slaves in Senegal. What we find through his writing is that most of what we've all been taught is the surface history of slavery in this country. We've largely ignored, for example, that much of what Wall Street is built on was once slave markets and burial grounds. 

I have talked to so many people about this book and I keep giving away key lessons and key parts. I want YOU to read it, though. To see how even the people trying to tell the full story of slavery have managed to manipulate it for their own purpose. I want you to read about the conversations Smith has with white women at Monticello about their thoughts on Thomas Jefferson. I want you to picture black men working the fields in Louisiana - not in the 1800s, but now - in a state prison where their labor is still a commodity. 

I want you to know what the tour guide means when she tells people on her tour of slavery sites in New York City "Don't believe anything if it makes you too comfortable." 

I want you to read it so we can talk about it - with each other and with everyone else. 

The Mercies

 

Ooh, this book had some PROMISE! And, in some ways, it delivered. I could have done without much of the middle, but the beginning and the end were wild and fascinating and that probably makes the whole thing worth it.

This book is based on a true event that happened in the 1600s in Norway. A storm wiped out most of the men in a small fishing village, leaving the women to fend for themselves. What happens when they do is a testament to the power of women, the struggle to overcome and - wait for it - accusations of witchcraft!

Just as the women in the village begin to recover and take on the tasks previously only done by men, a man comes along to "govern" them who happens to have a history burning witches in Scotland. His agenda and the agenda of those who brought him there quickly upends the lives of these women and the community.

The books is powerful. It gets VERY graphic. And, despite being set in the 1600s, it's really readable. It got a little sloggy in the middle, but the ending will stay with me for a very long time. 

Where the Grass is Green and the Girls are Pretty

 

Did I check out this book because of the title and my 90s girl dedication to Guns n Roses?

Yes.

Was I punished for my superficiality?

Also yes.

I'll keep it brief. 

The book is yet ANOTHER novel that nods back the Aunt Becky/Varsity Blues/college admissions scandal. In this book, a prominent network news anchor gets caught up in the story she's supposed to be covering when her own husband gets arrested in an FBI sting, and accused of paying someone to get her daughter into college. 

The story isn't exactly what it seems on the surface, but the plot reveals itself so quickly, you find yourself wondering "What are we going to do with the other 350+ pages? Hum the guitar solo for November Rain? Learn to really whistle that opening on Patience? Seeing if I can get my hair like Slash?" All of those would have been better options that reading this book all the way through, which I did. 

There was one final plot twist at the end, but by then, I was so ready for it to be over, I literally rolled my eyes and closed the cover.

And do you want to know the worst part? That title was never even relevant in the story at all.

I'm back to judging books by their cover, not their title. 

And because I need you to leave this page with something positive, I give you MY favorite GNR song.

Better Not Bitter

 

Like so many of you, I hear the story of Yusef Salaam and I can't quite understand how he's not angry and bitter and constantly outraged about the injustice that brought his name into the international spotlight. But, when I ask myself that, I come back to a news story I did years ago with a couple that lost all five of their children in a horrible car accident. The kids were all under the age of 10. The parents, who are devoutly religious, told me they hear people say that all the time. Then, the mother said something I will never forget:

"God doesn't give grace to the onlooker."

Of course we can't understand why Salaam - one of the Exonerated Five from the Central Park Jogger case - has come to the peaceful and rational way of seeing the world and his experience. It's not our experience to know. But, reading his book and hearing him share his story gives some insight to all of us about the mindset with which we can see the world in order to not let it break us.

Salaam was one of the five teenagers sent to prison in one of the most notorious miscarriages of justice in the zeitgeist. He served his time and was out before the real rapist was identified. Their story became known to so many more people in the Netflix documentary Now They See Us. This book allows us to see them - Salaam, at least - even more fully.

He describes his mother walking in on his interrogation and telling him - you don't have to participate in this. He describes going to the courthouse to hear the verdict thinking he'll be right back, not knowing he wouldn't see his home for many years. And he describes turning to education and religion in prison to put himself in this mindset of facing this hardship - and, life after - by going through it, not shaking his fist at the sky.

This book and Salaam's message also show the powerful ways in which the system is set up to incarcerate Black people, especially Black men. There's so much literature on this subject right now, but to hear it from the man who serves as an example of how much can go so wrong, you can't help but feel that message in a different way.

Girls With Bright Futures

 

You know that whole college scandal with the fake rowing scholarships and Aunt Becky and all of that? If recent fiction is any indication, half the authors in America heard that story and said to themselves "THAT would be a good book!"

In my experience, though, none of them have even come close to the juicy reality.

Now is the time in the review where I make a confession. I barely remember the plot of this book. In my defense, I read it about a month ago and haven't had time to write a review. But, also, I just accidentally read ANOTHER book with this plot and both were equally unmemorable. They're books about overzealous moms, anxiety-ridden teenage girls (because of said moms) and the increasingly insane world of college admissions.

Do I recommend you read this? Literally, I don't know. I should have paid someone to write this review for me instead.

Year Book

No matter what I say here about Seth Rogen's book of essays/memoir, do yourself a favor: don't read it.

Wait, I mean read it. But, don't READ it. Have Seth read you the audiobook version instead.

I'm not saying that because I didn't love actually reading this hilarious book. I just imagine it would be even better to hear him talk about his life in his words, along with that trademark laugh. So, even though I read it, I may listen to it now, too. 

I mean, imagine how much funnier it would be to hear Seth Rogen describe how Kanye randomly showed up at his house one day and asked if Seth could come out and play basketball? I picture, like, the random kid down the street who comes over and asks my 10-year old son to play.. then picture Kanye walking away when Seth couldn't come out and play that day. The whole Kanye story in this book is worth the price of the download, not to mention his story about Snoop writing a rap for a project they were working on when a group of muse/stripper ladies came in out of nowhere to inspire him.

I listened to Rogen on a few podcasts before reading this book and his performance there was the perfect foreshadowing for what this book would be: funny, endearing and really sweet. And, yeah, a lot of stories about drugs. 

I'm a fan of Seth Rogen's anyway, but reading this gives you such insight into how he became a boy-wonder Canadian comic and the friendships he's formed that have helped him throughout his career.

Go read it. With your ears. 

 

Stay Sexy & Don't Get Murdered

 

This was supposed to be a throw-away bridge book - a book I read while waiting for my library holds to show up. I picked it up during one of my random Target wanderings on a Sunday afternoon. I'd heard of it before, just as I've heard people rave for years about the authors' podcast My Favorite Murder. But, I hadn't listened to the podcast and I didn't know a thing about these women. Somehow, it ended up in my cart.

Then, I read it in one day.

I must be the same age as Karen Kilgariff and Georgia Hardtsark because the life experiences they detail here were astonishingly close to home. I laughed so much (more like a cackle, really) from the beginning to the end.

It's not a book about crime/murder. But, clearly, it's about what really makes their podcast successful: they're really funny women who happen to be great storytellers, too.

The book reads like a how-to guide for life, but really is just sharing stories about their different upbringings and how they ended up on the top of so many podcast charts.

Malibu Rising

 

Has a book ever looked and sounded more like a beach read than Malibu Rising? And this gorgeous cover? It screams summer. But, I would hate for you to dismiss it as somehow not having weight just because the title is in pink. Taylor Jenkins Reid books always have a shark-ish mood just beneath the surface.

If you've been on this blog for awhile, you've read reviews of other books by this author. Daisy Jones and the Six and Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo are among my all-time faves. Like those, Malibu Rising has a strong female lead, though her story is not quite as tortured as Daisy's and Evelyn's.

You know how the book is going to end right as it begins. The opening paragraphs talk about Malibu as a land that burns. Fires seem to define this area of California almost as much as the mansions and celebrities. We know this book will end with Malibu in flames. We just have to see how it gets there.

At its heart, it's a story about the Riva family that grew up in early 80's Malibu. It's a story of their lives as grown-ups and the story of how their parents got together. Dad was a bonafide celebrity who drifted in and out of their lives. Mom ran the family restaurant, barely keeping up. That back story defines them all. It's about family sacrifice, sibling relationships and what's often under the surface of the people that you think have it all.

I read this book in a weekend, not on the beach, but on my couch. It didn't have quite the same glow for me as her previous two books that I loved, but it's the perfect book to read on a flight - or a beach - this summer.

The Great Alone

 

Let me start out by saying I enjoyed reading this book and the 400+ pages went by quickly.

Let me also say it never could have lived up to the hype.

I post pictures of every book I read on Instagram. When I posted the picture of this book, the crowd went wild. People sent messages and comments, all saying this was one of the best books they'd ever read. The person who recommended it has never steered me wrong, either. But, given the pre-read adulation, I should have known I'd be somewhat disappointed.

The Great Alone is the story of a family, struggling to make it in the post-Vietnam 1970s. The dad was a POW and came back with an anger and depression that wasn't properly identified back then. He moves the family to Alaska to live on land left to him by one of his dead war buddies. The isolation of Alaska brings out his adventurous side - but also exacerbates the violence and rage buried within him.

Most of the story is told through his daughter Leni, who grows up loving her dad, but living in fear as she watches him beat her mom. She grows to thrive in Alaska, even as her father's mood gets darker and more violent and paranoid. 

So much happens to Leni and her mom. Too much, I would say, to make a concise story. I don't want to give anything away, but it got to the point where another bad thing would happen and it just didn't need to in order to advance the developments of the characters.

Looking back, it really is a story about war and family and the intense bond between this mother and daughter. There were heart-wrenching moments throughout. While it felt like it tied up into a bow at the end, it felt heavy-handed at times in the way the plot forced those character relationships.

People have told me that her other novel The Nightengale is the one I should read. It's on my bookshelf and I do plan to read it. This one, while I didn't love it as much as so many others did, did not deter me from trying this author again.

Sharks in the Time of Saviors

 

Oh man, this book had promise. Story, drama, characters... part of it was even set in Spokane where one of the characters came to play at an elite basketball college. 

It just seemed to go on and on a little too much. Maybe could have benefited from some more rigorous editing. 

The story begins with a young boy who falls off a boat in Hawaii. Sharks are swirling, but instead of devouring him, they gently return him to the boat. From that time on, he develops a healing quality. He becomes a legend, as people seek him out to bring healing. That legend brings his family much-needed money and a little bit of fame.

That son goes on to Stanford and becomes a paramedic, healing people even more. It comes crashing down when he can't save a pregnant mother and baby and he comes to question his entire identity.

That college basketball playing brother? He's a legend, too. On the mainland, he makes his family and Hawaii proud. But, when he squanders that opportunity, he questions his identity and value to his family as well.

Then, there's a sister away at school in San Diego. She has her own reasons for questioning her identity and always feels like she's not as special as her brothers.

The book is rich with character and you see the parallels between the siblings. But, it could have been told in far fewer pages. You feel all of the siblings get pulled back to Hawaii, left to wonder if they matter beyond those islands. But, the end gets a little jumbly for me, too, and I wish it could have sustained its strong start. 

The End of Men

 

In the words of the great Britney Spears: "Oops, I did it again."

In this case, I read another book about a pandemic during a pandemic.

Not great, Melissa.

To be honest, I don't recommend that at all, as fascinating and timely as this book was to read. I read it a few weeks ago, in a time where the pandemic was wearing me down the most. And as the pandemic in the book became more dire and depressing, I found myself wanting to stop reading it for my own well-being!

All of that said, it's a fascinating read and maybe you should put it on your list for when this whole COVID thing wraps up.

In this book, a highly contagious virus begins to sweep across the globe, leading to the shutting of borders and the deaths of tens of thousands of people. Sound familiar? Well, the twist here is that the only people killed by this pandemic are men. 

All the men.

Almost all of the men, actually. Only 10 percent of men have immunity. So the women of the world are left watching their husbands and sons die as they try to get the virus under control. It's hard to read. Kids die. Husbands die. But, it's interesting how many of the measures taken to bring it under control have been in place during COVID, especially when you consider the author wrote it before our current pandemic hit.

There's a lot to like here about the plot and drama and the way it all comes together. But if you're struggling emotionally with the effects of the real-life pandemic, you may want to keep this fiction on the shelf.

Creative Confidence

 

When people you respect and admire literally send you a book in the mail, there's probably a reason and you should read it.

A brilliant man named Tony Thompson read this in a business class and thought it might appeal to my management style. Not only was it a great read with great lessons, it was a quick read - especially for what could be considered a "business book."

David and Tom Kelley are brothers and creators; they're the guys behind IDEAO and the Stanford d.school. Their mission is to help people understand the power of creative thinking in creative new products and pathways. It's filled with fascinating case studies about how creativity allows people to look at the world differently, in turn becoming more useful and successful.

There are so many great case studies here, but my favorite is one where a company was trying to create more useful kitchen tools. As they developed an ice cream scooper, they could have made the handle better, created better leverage, etc. Instead, they simply watched people use ice cream scoopers. What they discovered is every single person did one specific thing: they licked the scoop before putting it in the sink. So, how did they use that information? They made a scooper with smooth lines to make that last act of ice  cream scooping more enjoyable!

There are more complex ideas here, too, about medical advancements and other major business innovation made possible just by people unlocking their creative thinking. At one point when I was reading this, I wanted to crawl out of my skin because I was so excited about different ways to look at the things I do every day.

This books is useful and powerful AND interesting to read. I'm now waiting for Tony to send me another one...

The Final Revival of Opal and Nev

 

I'm sure I'm not the only one who bought this book because it sounds a lot like Daisy Jones and the Six. 

I'm sure I'm also not the only one who found it to be similar in style only, but was a rich and powerful read on its own.

The Final Revival of Opal and Nev is told as an oral history of a group that had a moment of glory in the 70s. Opal was a Black woman from Detroit; Nev was a nerdy musician from England. Together, they found a unique chemistry that brought them close to musical stardom. But what people actually ended up remembering them for was the aftermath of a violent riot provoked by race.

The story is told through many characters, thanks to interviews done by a magazine editor who is writing a story about the duo and a possible return to the stage for the first time in decades. She happens to be the daughter of a drummer killed in that riot, who was having an affair with Opal. You read the story from the perspectives of the major players in their musical rise and fall.

It's a story about racial tension in the 70's, music, family and - more subtly - the appropriation of Black pain for entertainment. A picture of Opal and Nev during the riot took on a life its own and it was that picture and people's interpretation of it that carried their legacy forward.

I liked this book when I read it. I like the style. I connected with the characters. But, it meant something more after I heard the author on Fresh Air with Terry Gross. It brought to light a perspective I missed the first time through. 

A solid read with a deeper meaning, this book resonates with where we are right now.

Swallowed Man

 

"I am writing this account, in another man's book, by candlelight, inside the belly of a fish. I have been eaten. I have been eaten, yet I am living still."

How awesome is that opening line?

This quirky, tidy little book was exactly the palate cleanser I needed between two heavy stories about race and violence.

It's the story of Gepetto, written from inside the big fish. He's writing in a captain's log he found in an abandoned ship, also swallowed and left to languish. He's yearning for Pinnochio, yearning for his life, hoping his story will survive.

Does that sound weird? That's exactly why I wanted to read it.  

Edward Carey's writing starts with that incredible line and never lets up. His writing is charming and perfectly odd, as a book about a man inside a whale would have to be. He calls pockets 'trouser cupboards' for crying out loud! How could it not be perfection?

This book made me smile, even as we watch Geppetto go mad. And, you're left with a smile on your face and hope the old man is reunited with his wooden son once again. 

The Prophets

 

This book is on every list this year and is surrounded by hype. The hype is why I was hesitant, but when a co-worker handed this book over before I left on vacation, I thought I better see if it was worth all the talk.

The Prophets is a story rarely (never?) told. Two gay slaves in the plantation south. While much of this story (and the talk surrounding this book) is about them, there's far more here than just that.

The story of Isaiah and Samuel is touching and forbidden, but not at all a secret on their plantation. You find yourself understanding the refuge they found in each other in a place where love - especially Black love - was not something valued by those around them.

The book, too, is about memory. Blood memory. With flashbacks to Africa and villages pillaged, you realize the power of connection and that what is seen as unusual (the love between these two men) goes back generations where constructs of society were not even considered.

You read about their love, but also the torture of slavery. The sexual abuse of slaves, how they were treated as commodities in every way. The love between these two men becomes clear when they won't serve their purpose to reproduce and sire children with other slaves. 

One part, in particular, still haunts me now, weeks later. A plantation worker, disgusted by the slaves living as animals - while he's the one who has put them in that position to begin with.

This book is beautifully written, haunting in every way. It picks up momentum from page one, all the way to the end. There's a point about 80 percent in where my jaw dropped and my heart stopped, reading the horror that has become such a forgotten part of America's past in many ways.

This book was on every "best book of the year" prediction list. It will likely end the year on those final lists as well. Powerful, sweeping, haunting, real.

Valentine

 

Read this book.

Trust me.

From the opening chapter about a young girl's sexual assault in the Texas desert, I was hooked. Plain, yet powerful language and a heartbreaking story, along with powerful women characters makes me wonder why this book sat on my shelf for two months before I read it.

Our young teen's sexual assault touches off a divided community and ripple effects, even for people not directly involved. The fact she is an immigrant girl in 1970's oil-boom Texas adds a level of conflict that feels present, even if it's set more than 30 years ago.

The author reveals societal conflict here without being heavy handed. Young girls, abandoned. Fathers, struggling. Widows, soldiers, immigrants, victims. The whole thing comes together in such a beautifully tragic way. 

I know for sure this will be one of the best books I read this year. 

Greenlights

 

This, my friends, is a one-flight read.

Well, actually two flights. A connecting flight in Seattle interrupted my flow.

Still, this was the perfect book to start a week-long vacation and was utterly satisifying.

I'm such a Matthew McConaughey fan, but I don't think you need to be to really get something out of this book. He goes out of his way to say it's not a memoir because he's not done. But, it truly is a journey through his life, punctuated by the "greenlights" he mentions as the things that cleared his path over the years.

He's a fascinating dude, which we know already. But, the stories about his childhood and parents and Airstream journeys across the country make for such a fun read. I especially love reading about a bizarre night in a Montana bar with a cast of characters that could make its own movie, and his story about being cast in The Pelican Brief, which launched his career.

I've heard from several people that the audio book is even better, as it's narrated by the man himself. But, if you choose to read it, it's his voice in your head all the way through. 

Hamnet

 

Did you know about William Shakespeare's dead son? The way it may have inspired one of his best-known plays? Or the family he left behind while pursuing his dream in London? 

Most of us did not. And while this book is a fictional interpretation of those events and never actually mentions his name, it's an enlightening (though often slow) look at the possible motivation behind one of the best writers the world has ever known.

We know from history that Hamnet Shakespeare was William's only son. We know he died at the age of 11 and left behind his grieving family and twin sister. Beyond that, much of Hamnet's life and death - and, its connection to his father's work - is the subject of scholarly speculation. 

But, it's a heck of a jumping off point for this book.

O'Farrell's story of Hamnet weaves together his family's history and his death from the plague. You know it's about Shakespeare, but the name is never uttered. Hamnet's father is written about only as an unnamed man. But, the details revealed about the boy's life and death also reveal the complicated relationships the famous playwright had with both his son and his own father, and allows the reader to infer how those relationships likely impacted his writing.

The subject matter is fascinating and as someone who studied Shakespeare in college, it was a fascinating look behind the (speculative) curtain. The middle was slooooow.... But the end provided enough of a reward to make me glad I didn't give up. 

Think Again

 

 

 

Know what you don't know. And don't be afraid to change your mind.

Those are qualities I value in others, but probably didn't prioritize in myself. Once again, Adam Grant upends the way we think - this time, about what we think - and, places value on being strong/brave/smart enough to change your mind.

I'm an Adam Grant fan and this book is one of those that I'm thinking about more and more, weeks after I finished it. It's all about challenging our own beliefs and assumptions to truly grow. 

Most of us take far too long to feel confident enough to say "I was wrong." This book puts added value on being able to do that, in everything from parenting to social justice. 

If you've never read Grant's writing, you'll enjoy seeing the way his brain works and how he uses examples and storytelling to back up his research. For me, I got more out of hearing Grant talk about this concept than I did from the book, but that's not to say it wasn't a valuable and important read. 

The Revisioners

 

A book filled with powerful characters, family connections and history. While the groundwork was laid for a really satisfying read, it fell just slightly short for me.

Josephine is our main character here, and she's represented in the various timelines presented. We see her as a child in 1855, her family in the bonds of slavery. We meet her again in the 1920s, as she's free and raising her own family. And we meet her again through her granddaughter, who is living in present-day New Orleans, raising her son and facing the echoes of the racism her grandmother fought through.

There are ghosts of the past throughout this book. There are stops and starts on powerful connections between timelines. But the ends never quite connected for me in a way that was meaningful or memorable. 

Loved the characters and concept. It was well-written, too. But, I wanted something to more powerfully honor Josephine and the sacrifices she made for her descendants' freedom. 

A Thousand Ships

 

It's probably the most written-about war in human history. Finally, after all of these centuries, we get to hear about the Trojan War from the women.

I love this whole genre of literature. Loved it in Circe, love it here. Haynes explores the fall of Troy from the women who were made into slaves, the women who loved the warriors, the women left to fend for themselves. It changes the perspective completely, as women are no longer the ones blamed (Helen) or the ones watching. We hear instead about life as second-class citizens or worse and we are also allowed to be awed by their strength.

If you have even a passing interest in Greek Mythology, this is a fantastic read. It gets tricky at times to keep track of all the women because of their names and the names of the men to whom they're typically attached. But, the payoff of beautiful storytelling is worth it.

My favorite parts of the book are the inserts from Penelope, written as letters to her husband Odysseus. He may be remembered by literature as a brave exploring warrior, working his way home. Penelope sees it another way - and, she's OVER IT. 

Finally (and of least relevance), I love the title so much. The entire time this was on my nightstand, I remembered one of my favorite works of songwriting. The final verse of the Indigo Girls "Ghost" is perfection.

May I?

The End of October

 

Look, I've made some questionable choices over this last year. Reading a book about a pandemic during a pandemic was up there as one of the worst. The book was good - but maybe wait until this pandemic is over to give it a try.

The End of October starts with a pandemic overseas and the attempts to isolate it. A key researcher with the CDC happens to be there as it unfolds, and tries to warn his wife and family in America to prepare. Quickly, we see the pandemic spread across the globe and the government attempts to stop it.

But, shit gets dark. 

Like, kids burying adults dark.

And government conspiracy dark.

While much of this story was interesting in a Michael Crichton kind of way, the author complicates things a bit by introducing plotlines and characters that, on their own, would be chilling enough. Throw in the pandemic and it's just a lot to take. At least for those dumb enough to read it before being vaccinated.

Light from Other Stars

 

There were times when I was reading this book when I wasn't sure if it was going to pay off. Now, a couple of weeks after I've finished, I can't stop thinking about it. What a unique, creative story with a twist that took my breath away.

The story shows our main character Nedda as a child and as an adult. As a child growing up in the shadow of NASA, she dreams of becoming an astronaut. Her dad is connected to the space program, too, and much of their bond involves watching the stars.  Her life changes dramatically the day she witnesses the Challenger explode (as someone who has a child on that day, the implications of her memory are powerful.) 

Flashing forward in the novel, we see Nedda living her dream: she's in space, as part of an experimental group that will colonize a new planet. They've had to say goodbye - forever - to everything and everyone they love and make this sacrifice for the future of civilization. What she and her fellow astronauts are going through is made possible through an experiment her father had done decades ago. An experiment that - when it happened - went horribly wrong.

I hesitate to give away anymore, because the details of that failed experiment and its connection to the later space mission provide fascinating plot twists. But, it's a powerful book about family and friendship and dreams and what we do for those we love, no matter the cost.

Want

 

This is not what it's about, but take a moment and appreciate this cover. The title, the colors... No question what made me want to read this book. And the plot drew me in, too. Three weeks later (as I try to catch up on these reviews), I can barely remember what it's about.

Our main character is one I'm seeing a lot more of now: a successful woman, married with kids, who is exhausted by life and desiring more. I realize this has been a trope for decades, but I'm reading more of these characters now. Could be my age, position in life, whatever. Either way, I may need a break because as soon as these novels start, I have a sense where they're going. They're just not as interesting to me anymore.

In this book, our main character is at this turning point in life and is desperately trying to connect with a childhood friend. It's that relationship that has defined her life - and that friend is dealing with a crisis of her own. Their reconnection helps define our protagonist's response to her own life and I honestly can't remember how it ends because it wasn't that interesting anymore by then.