The Cloisters

 

The subtitle of this book should be "beware of the first time novelist."

There are good bones here, but the story needed some editing and tightening up. I think we could have knocked a hundred pages or so as well and maybe I wouldn't have been racing to finish, knowing it probably wasn't going to be satisfied.

The Cloisters is about a young woman from Walla Walla, Washington (the town so nice, they named it twice!) who goes east to NYC for a summer to study art. Her initial assignment falls through and she ends up working in an outpost called the Cloisters, where things are almost as creepy as the name sounds like it would be.

There's a love triangle, a super rich lady, some mystery, tarot cards? All of it is fine and sets up a potentially good story, but the lack of editing and the over emphasis on small details that didn't matter just really slowed the flow for me. 

Was there a twist? Yes. A couple. And because there was more than one, none of them were intriguing enough to go over with anything more than a sigh.

It had promise, but it never quite hit. 

We Are The Light

 

Oh, my goodness. What a magical, emotional, special book.

This morning, I had about 20 pages to go and I just could not stop reading. I held it in my lap on my drive to work and read at the stoplights. I've never wanted to be stuck in traffic more than this morning. I ended up getting to work and sitting in the parking lot for 15 minutes so I could read until the end. I did so with tears streaming down my face.

The book is told through a series of letters from a man named Lucas Goodgame to his therapist. As each letter passes, more of the heartbreaking story is revealed. 

Lucas and his therapist were among the survivors of a mass shooting in a movie theater, in which each man lost his wife. We don't know why Lucas's therapists won't answer his letters. We do know Lucas is slowly falling apart.

In an attempt to bring survivors together and make something good come from the tragedy, Lucas and another young man embark on a strange project to bring about that healing. They bring the survivors together to do so. But, as that project gets closer to completion, Lucas gets even closer to completely losing himself.

The book was intriguing and emotional the whole way through, but it really hit another gear in the last 1/4 of the story. I was riveted and worried and ultimately, felt some relief at where the journey ended up.

This is a beautiful story about grief - collective and individual grief. It's about family and friendships and tragedy and redemption. While the subject matter itself is hard to think about, this story - true to its name - provides some light as well.

Just an absolutely powerful read. 

Surrender : 40 Songs, One Story

"Songs are my prayers." 

When Bono threw this out there in the opening pages of his book, I thought I would fall under his poetic spell and re-emerge, changed, a few hundred pages later.

Instead, I bailed.

Did not finish.

Surrendered. Right around page 100.

I heard Bono on a podcast and thought I'd love this book. I almost did! Sort of. He writes it so beautifully and I love hearing about him forming U2 with some of his childhood friends. It's beautiful, the way he writes about meeting his wife. It's heartbreaking to read about the loss of his mom and how it changed his entire family.

Still. Still.

I found myself just begrudgingly turning the pages. It was just... taking too long.

Last night, a friend asked if I ever feel guilty not finishing a book. I told her - proudly - that I've let go of the shame that comes with a DNF. Then, I went home and saw this book on my nightstand and decided to watch Tik Tok instead. 

This morning, I pulled the bookmark out of this book and opened another.

I don't think Bono would mind. I think he'd want me to be happy.
 

Mad Honey

 

This book could have been about 150 pages shorter. Still, it kept my attention all the way through the 432 pages and that, my friends, is saying something.

I didn't really know anything about this book when I picked it up. It must have been on some "must read" lists. I do know Jodi Picoult is a readable author and I didn't notice at first that a second author helped write this book. Each of them took one storyline - a woman narrated some chapters, a teenage girl the others - but, there wasn't enough of a compelling difference in the writing to make you even take notice.

The plot: a single mom, who happens to be a beekeeper, is building a life with her teenage son after escaping domestic violence. The bees play a pretty big role in this book, as plotline and as metaphor. Was there a lot about bees? Yeah. Too much? Maybe. Either way, I learned a fair amount about bees.

Okay, back on track.

The beekeeper's son Asher is arrested for killing his girlfriend and his mom begins to question everything. The book jumps back and forth between timelines for multiple characters but doesn't get confusing. Then, about halfway through, there's a MASSIVE twist that really changes what the book is all about. I won't spoil it, but I can tell you - when that twist is revealed, we don't need any more about the bees to keep this going.

The characters are just flawed enough to keep this interesting and the murder storyline was pretty predictable, I think. Still, there was enough to keep me interested and I'd recommend this book if you have some patience to get through all the stuff about the bees... 

Matrix

 

This wasn't it. Not for me at least. You could stop reading now and just understand that I didn't like this book.

It wasn't for lack of trying. Though I thought about bailing several times, I did power through. I wasn't disappointed with the ending, per se, but the whole book just kind of fell flat.

It's about a convent in the 12th century, led by a woman who was the product of a royal rape. She managed to bring the abbey to wealth and power and I understand that it's a book about the power women yield - and don't yield - regardless of period of history.

Groff is a hell of a writer, which is why I read this book. The prose is beautiful, but the story didn't seem to go anywhere that had me excited to keep reading. 

Signal Fires

 The Wilf family moved onto Division Street, ready to build their lives together. Filled with hope, promise, a future planned for their two young children.

Division Street and what happened there defined them all.

It's hard to describe Signal Fires, other than to call it a slow burn. There's action, but not dramatically so. There are characters with whom you relate and root for and are disappointed in. Overall, even the main plot point that defines this family doesn't really define the book at all.

When they're young teenagers Sarah and Theo are in a terrible accident that leads to the death of a teenage girl. Without ever saying a word, the family buries the truth about that day and they live their lives trying to outrun the truth. 

That's a strong jumping off point for a book, but (spoiler alert), it's not like the past is haunting them with a secret, about to be exposed. Instead, this book is about family and the things that connect us and drive us apart. It's also about community and the way our lives are intertwined with others. It's about time and space, too, and the idea that we are never at the end or the beginning - just somewhere on a loop.

I'm not explaining this well, but I can tell you this is a book I got easily into and one I looked forward to reading every night. 

The Last Slave Ship

 

This book would be better as a NatGeo special. Maybe it already is one (see bottom of this post....) But, a book on what is a fascinating story just fell flat for me and I found myself urgently sneaking ahead.

The story of the Clotilda is a fascinating one on its own and the author of this book played a key role in bringing much of that story to the surface. Clotilda was considered to be the last slave ship that brought slaves from Africa to the United States. It happened long after that was legal and the descendants of that voyage have worked tirelessly to keep those stories alive.

Ben Raines is a journalist and local river guide, so maybe he was the best person equipped to find the wreck of this ship, which was burned and sank after the cargo of slaves was unloaded in Alabama. The story of the search, though, took up only the last quarter or so of the book. 

Raines spent much of the rest of the story telling the story of the voyage itself. That's a noble effort, to be sure. The problem is much of that story has already been told by people better equipped to do so.

The story of one of Clotilda's survivors was the subject of the fascinating book Barracoon. A man named Cudjo who was brutally taken from his home in a horrific raid lived to tell his story after the Middle Passage and after emancipation. He and the other survivors established Africatown and lived to tell their stories. That book, I read in an afternoon. I could not stop reading the story of this man and all he had been through - from his perspective. Slave Ship felt like a Cliff's Notes retelling of that story and the story of some of the other survivors. Because that book wasn't entirely about them, the most impactful messages fell flat. 

If you're interested in the personal stories and anguish of the slaves who survived the Clotilda, I recommend Barracoon. 

Note: I just discovered this story is the subject of a documentary called Descendant. 

One descendant says in the trailer, "It's not about the ship."

Perhaps start there instead.

Spare

 

Have you even heard of this book? Seems like it was a such a quiet release, you may not have noticed.

Yeah, right.

Spare was met with such publishing fanfare, it broke a Guinness World Record for fastest-selling non-fiction book of all time. Between the early reviews and the pre-publishing interviews Harry did, it's shocking anyone needs to read it at all.

But, I did.

I pre-ordered the book, which perfectly timed with a flight I was taking (you need the most readable books when you travel, of course.) Then, I had to dodge every soundbite and every Tweet to make sure there was some suspense left when I finally had a chance to read it.

How you feel about the book's existence depends on how you feel about the royal family, I suppose. Hate em and think the whole thing is frivolous and dumb? You'd hate the book. LOVE the royal family and think Harry is a traitor (and Meghan is some sort of villain?), you'd hate the book. But if, like me, you're both fascinated with what happens behind these gilded doors and a little indifferent to the royals anyway? You might devour it, just as I did.

Harry's story is a mix of personal memoir and a look behind the palace gates. He talks about details and people that I don't think the royal family wants you to know about (the latest uproar: did he give away details of palace layouts that could put the monarchy at risk?? Gasp, says the British press!). He shares private conversations between him and Prince William that don't exactly leave the heir in a positive light. He reveals who he believes are the villains in his story that ultimately drove him and Meghan out of the royal bubble for good (and they're exactly who I suspected they would be.)

Beyond the palace intrigue, though, is the personal story of a man still devastated by the loss of his mother. It's the story of a boy left so alone with his grief that he found himself wishing for war to find companionship and a place where he felt his existence actually mattered. It's the story like so many: of anxiety, family troubles, the feeling that we're never quite good enough. 

That part could be anyone's story, then you add on the relationship with the British press that has a family backstabbing each other as a form of self-preservation.

I won't go on too much, but I would absolutely recommend this book if you want to read a deeply personal memoir and get some juicy royal details along the way. 

Devil in the Grove

 

This is an important book. It won a Pulitzer, for crying out loud. I know it's important, I'm glad I picked it up. But, for me, I wasn't in the right time and place to love reading it.

I heard about this book when I listened to a podcast the author did called Bone Valley. It's a really good podcast about a man falsely accused of murder and still unable to clear his name. Gilbert King is incredibly interesting to listen to and he mentioned this book a couple of times in the podcast. I thought if the book was anything like the pod, I would be all in.

Devil in the Grove is about many things: the falsely accused in the Jim Crow South; Thurgood Marshall and the risk he took fighting for justice; the systems in place that set in motion decades of injustice, particularly towards Black Americans. Like I said, important.

The problem with the book itself is almost that it was too well-researched. Every detail of every moment is recounted and I felt so buried in the details, I missed the story. Every time he picked up a thread that would draw me in, he would go down a seemingly-unrelated and less important side story and never quite get back on pace.

What this book did do for me is make me want to learn more about some of the people, places and events on which he touched. For example, a badass woman who was reported on civil rights and was known as Big East. She wore a mink coat and her very presence was enough to bring immense respect, especially for a woman her time. Evelyn Cunningham deserves more recognition for the work she did and I was glad King touched on her role in the movement.

The rest of the book, though, had me wishing for something else. A podcast on the same subjects, perhaps.

Bomb Shelter: Love, Time, and Other Explosives

 

I tried therapy last year. 

I couldn't stop feeling an overwhelming sense of doom about so many things that are out of my control. I worried constantly about my kids and my husband. I worried constantly about my family. I felt like I was losing control and was desperate to get my arms around the people in my life. 

I quit therapy. I still have the worry. But, this book helped because I realized I'm one of many moms in middle age (gross!) who feel exactly this way.

Mary Laura Philpott writes so beautifully about this challenging time in life. It's even laugh out loud funny in places. She writes about how we try so desperately to protect our kids and how life happens anyway. Her writing reminds you to live in the moment and enjoy what's here now, rather than skipping ahead. 

She writes about parenting teenagers, a journey I'm just beginning.

And, she writes about a turtle named Frank who knocks on the front door sometimes.

I love this book and it was a hell of a lot cheaper than therapy.

My favorite books of 2022

 

This year got away from me in more ways than one and I completely neglected this sweet little book blog. 

Now, three days from 2023, I'm committing myself to getting back on track by revisiting my favorites of this year and promising to do better in January. 

(Please don't ask how many things I promise to be better at in January. I have a long, unrealistic month ahead.)

If I finish the book I'm reading now, I will have read a grand total of 58 books this year. I'm okay with that number, though I would have preferred a round 60. 

There were two books that I started and did not finish, which is still not easy for me to do. Life's too short to have to get through half a book before enjoying it, though. Here's to less book guilt in 2023!

Overall, I read a pretty good mix of fiction and non-fiction. 22 non-fiction, according to my haphazard list. It's pure coincidence that my top six of the year were a mix of both.

Because I failed to review these books as I read them, I'll spare you the extensive review now. But, here are a few thoughts about my favorite books of 2022.

Remarkably Bright Creatures  

This book felt like a hug. I loved it so much, I don't even want to talk about it because it might ruin the magic. The basic gist is that it's told, in part, from the point of view of an octopus living in a Western Washington aquarium. He knows his time is short and he finds himself taking little escapades when the aquarium is closed in order to get better food than what they're feeding him. But, it's not just about an octopus. It's about family and loss and life and friendship - and, the woman who is the true main character of the book carries with her such grief you find yourself holding your breath that she can let it go. The way their stories tie together is so beautiful and emotional that I was bawling when I finished it. I tried to explain to my husband and sons, but as soon as I got to the octopus part, my 11-year old said, "Mom, are you reading a children's book?" A children's book could never. This is one of my favorite books of all time.

The Many Daughters of Afong Moy

Everything Jamie Ford writes is perfection to me. It's not just because his wife and my sister went to high school together, he lives in my hometown, and I got to shake his hand once at Christmas Eve mass (though all of these things are super cool.) He just writes in a way that takes your breath away and he does it in this book even better than his books that came before it (which happen to be some of my other favorites.) This book tells a story across generations about women, mothers, courage, trauma... I can't describe it in a way that would ever do it justice, but I can tell you that if you read it, you will feel it in your bones. 

Sandy Hook: An American Tragedy and Battle for Truth

This book will break your heart and also make you so mad, you want to scream. Elizabeth Williams is a journalist who has reported on the aftermath of Sandy Hook for years. 10 years after one of the worst tragedies in American history, you still feel the ache of that day. This book is less about what happened that day, however, and more about what happened in the years that followed. Mostly, it's about evil monsters like Alex Jones who profited on conspiracy theories that further tore these families apart. I'm increasingly concerned and frustrated about misinformation and this book lit a fire it me that may lead to an entirely new career. An incredible book that is worth every emotion you'll feel while reading it.

The Winners

I'm noticing a theme as I'm writing this: every one of these books had me in tears. This one, I think I cried through the last 70 pages. The Winners is the last in the Beartown trilogy by the incomparable Fredrik Backman. It's the thickest of the trilogy, too. I recently heard Backman say in an interview that he knew where The Winners was going to end up when he started Beartown and that has me wanting to go back and read all three books again. If you're not familiar, Beartown is about a small town hockey club and the fans and players that color the town. The Winners ties up in a bow the storylines and characters that began in that first book. We've fallen in love with these characters and now we get to see why and how it all matters. And Backman's trademark foreshadowing is on display from the very first pages. 

We Carry Their Bones 

I heard this author on a podcast and had the book reserved at the library even before the interview was over. Erin Kimmerle's book is a fascinating look at how slow the wheels of justice often turn and about the intricate stories that often happen behind the scenes of national headlines. The Dozier School for Boys was a notorious school in Florida for "troubled" kids; it was also the scene of unspeakable horror that was covered up for decades. Kimmerle is a forensic anthropologist who was called in to help find the remains of children who died at the school and whose families were never given the whole story. Her book reads like a novel, as she paints a picture of the terrible things that were done to these boys. You hear of her team's painstaking work and also of the patience and persistence these families showed, just hoping one day to bring their boys home.

Hello, Molly! 

Yet another podcast interview that I had to read more about... I've always loved Molly Shannon (I'm an SNL fan from way back), but I didn't know much about her story. Then, I heard her on two separate podcasts talking about this book. I loved the stories she told about the crazy escapades she and her friends went on as kids (stowing away on a commercial flight to New York - hello!). I also was moved deeply by the way she talked about the loss of her mother and the complicated relationship she had with her father after that. Even though I heard her tell these stories through a couple of interviews, the book was absolutely worth the read. Molly is such a joy.

So, there's my top six. I read a lot of great books this year that didn't make this list, but overall, I'm happy with the variety. I had a couple of books I finished in a single flight. I gave myself permission to savor some and not just rush through. I already have a nice stack on my nightstand and a bunch of holds at the library to get 2023 started.

Thanks for reading! 

Perversion of Justice

 

As a journalist, I believe strongly in source material. So, when the Jeffrey Epstein/Ghislaine Maxwell story continued to make headlines, I found myself again seeking out how this possibly could have gone on for so long.

The day Ghislaine Maxwell was sentenced, I was reminded again of the work of journalist Julie K. Brown. Her dogged efforts brought - and, kept - this story in the headlines. Without her work, often at the expense of her personal life and probably her sanity, ensured that the world would not forget the horrific acts committed by these two people.

If you've followed this story, you know the basics. Brown's work goes deeper into the web of how Epstein and Maxwell groomed and victimized so many young girls. It also explores all the legal B.S. that allowed it to keep happening. As the person who most closely followed the case over the years, Brown also offers her theories about Epstein's ultimate demise.

 

In addition to the incredible journalism, this book also offers a glimpse into the not at all glamorous life of a newspaper reporter. It got a little long at times, but it was worth the read to understand the back story and hopefully prevent something like this from happening again.

Bewilderment

 

What a beautiful, special, heartbreaking book.

I knew a few pages in, in fact, that this book would tear me into pieces. I read anyway - hungrily - and I'm so glad I did.

This book is about fathers and sons, and moms and sons, and husbands and wives. It's about the lengths we'll go to protect the ones we love. It's about loss and memory and letting go.

Theo and his son Robin are going alone. Theo's wife/Robin's mom died and the two are left to navigate the world without her. That's hard enough; now add in that Robin is a special boy with challenging behaviors. Smart and thoughtful, yet socially inept. Theo would do just about anything to keep the boy connected to the world and off medication.

That's when they find out about experimental treatment that allows Robin to channel and control his emotions. Eventually, it connects him to his mom in a way that is both life saving and life altering.

The writing is beautiful, the characters are magical and the "what would I do?" moments are plentiful. Let yourself be taken over by this story and you won't regret it, even as it comes to its inevitable conclusion.

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.