What I Read August 2026

 A long month with loads of reading time means a long summary. 

First off, the mysteries: I finished Peter Lovesey's Peter Diamond series early in August with Against the Grain. This series kept me entertained through the summer, but definitely not in my top tier. I did start two new, shorter series which are both promising. Tim Sullivan's DC Cross series must've cropped up a few years ago, because my notes say I read one of them back in 2023. This month I read The Patient and am hopeful Sullivan continues to build the secondary characters as he did in this book. Cross himself is a wonderful character, but the two women he works with and the pastor of the church where he plays the organ are piquing my interest. 

Dissolution by C.J. Sansom is the first in a series and I loved it. England during the dissolution of the monasteries? Bring me more! Anything I read with Thomas Cromwell brings up immediate comparisons to Wolf Hall, and while it's a bit unfair to compare anyone's writing to Hilary Mantel and her stacks of prize-winning books, I felt this was very well written. When I get a break in all the new fall books that are stacking up on Libby I will definitely dive into the second book in this series.

I also read Shrink Solves Murder by Phillipa Perry. I believe it's her first novel. I know it's my last by her. Not awful, but there's just too many great books waiting for me.

I read three memoirs this month. Dangerous, Dirty, Violent, and Young by Zayd Ayers Dohrn, about being raised by Bernadette Dohrn and Bill Ayers during their years on the run as founders of the Weather Underground. I was fascinated by the Underground growing up, and reading Zayd's perspective brought all that back. Next up was In a Dark Wood by Joseph Luzzi. Luzzi was an Italian professor whose pregnant wife was killed in a car crash. The doctors delivered the baby, and Luzzi becomes totally dependent on his working class family in Rhode Island for the care of his child, and on Dante to help him through his grief. 

My final memoir for the month was Siri Hustvedt's Ghost Stories. I've read several of Paul Auster's novels, but never read anything by Hustvedt until this book. The reviews that led me to it were right. She's a brilliant writer (and researcher in neuroscience) and I grieved with her through this book. Some quotes:

When I told [Paul] this morning that I never thought I would know so much about NSCLC (non small cell lung cancer) and the ups and downs of checkpoint inhibitors etc. as I do now, he said it was like a new war that pops up in the news. One discovers the names of cities and towns one had never heard of before the fighting began. Although I have often resisted bellicose metaphors for illness, cancer’s aggression inspires comparison to a war. Paul is relieved to be marching forward rather than backward, remains brave and hopeful, a model soldier. And I, rather more rattled and less exemplary, nevertheless promise to file my reports from the war zone.

Paul’s favorite Mel Brooks quote comes in several versions. This is the one I remember: “Comedy is when you slip on a banana peel and fall down a manhole; tragedy is when I stub my toe.”

The reader of Melville’s story never knows why Bartleby resists. He’s not a martyr for a greater cause. The big question is: At what moment does not giving in become the same as giving up?

Writing isn’t about what you already know but what you find out you know once you’ve written.

Two versions of time: time as the line of a single human life that ends in death, and time as a wheel that turns and includes the cycles of births and deaths. Bakhtin called these circling repetitions idyllic time. It’s rooted to place, usually rural places.

I'm so glad I picked this one up. She's an elegant yet emotional writer, and her grief is palpable.

A quartet that I read and almost didn't finish: Sunrise, by Tea Obreht, Sisters of a Halved Heart by Nayantara Roy, Under the Falls by Richard Russo, Nesting by Roisin O'Donnell. Maybe I wasn't in the mood for Sunrise? Sisters didn't feel like it lived up to the hype, Under the Falls was definitely a publishing mistake! I think it was supposed to be a screenplay, but when it didn't get picked up they published it. Sad if it's the last book we get from Russo. Nesting may have only disappointed because I felt like it was classified as literary fiction, and it just wasn't. It wasn't bad, just not something I'd normally read. I can probably throw Frida Slattery As Herself by Ana Kinsella in here, too. Maybe I need to stop placing auto-holds on every book by Irish authors I see!

Speaking of, Prestige Drama by Seamus O'Reilly was definitely an Irish book worth reading. Told in multiple first person, a group of people discuss a film about the Troubles that's about to begin filming in their town. The chapter by the former IRA member was the most impressive voice - I'd love an entire novel about him! Some quotes, which I believe are all from that character:

Music for imbeciles. I don’t give a full-time fuck if it was revelatory at the time. So were seatbelts and unleaded paint and indoor plumbing and we don’t harp on about them any more.

I’ll put it this way: if you’re in a maximum-security prison and you look over and see Puff Clancy standing to your left, you’d not be particularly worried about harm to your person. Puff was a proper rare boy, a pure simple from Galliagh, the kind of fella you wouldn’t leave alone in case he fell into the fire

But then, after all, how many potatoes does it take to kill an Irishman? None!

Early in the month I read It Will Come Back to You, by Sigrid Nunez. Why she is not more popular is a mystery to me, as I love everything I've read by her. This is her first published collection of short stories. Some quotes:

Something Jo had learned in psychology: When a person has had a bad parent, the person remains that parent’s child all their life.

The grass growing, the heartbeat of the squirrel, to hear such things—“that roar that lies on the other side of silence”—would be too much for us, it would destroy us, George Eliot said.

And aren’t we all unreliable narrators of our own lives? I see in her the little novelist that sits in each of us busily working to arrange experience into story. The idea that a human life isn’t like a novel, that there is no plot, no narrative arc, that our memories can’t be relied on for shit, and that everything depends on how much spaghetti the chimpanzee put in the pot—this the human heart will not have.

I read Lolly Willowes by Sylvia Townsend Warner, mainly because I've had The Corner That Held Them waiting patiently on my shelves for years (I read a preview of The Corner on my Kindle and I know I'll love it, it's just so thick and there's only so much time.) Lolly is like the antithesis of a Barbara Pym character! Which would I want to be? Townsend Warner makes a good case for becoming the wild woman, the witch. The more I think about this book, the more I like it. Some quotes:

Laura was bored by the church which they attended. She would have liked, now that she was come to London, to see the world, to adventure in churches.

When Laura was ten years older she would be nut-crackerish. 

That’s why we become witches: to show our scorn of pretending life’s a safe business, to satisfy our passion for adventure.

It’s to escape all that – to have a life of one’s own, not an existence doled out to you by others, charitable refuse of their thoughts, so many ounces of stale bread of life a day, the workhouse dietary is scientifically calculated to support life.

I almost gave up on Land, by Maggie O'Farrell and I'm so glad I stuck it out. I locked in about 100 pages in and then never wanted to leave. Another example of how much you can learn about history from a novel. Like understanding the Dust Bowl for the first time after reading The Grapes of Wrath, I feel I know so much more about The Great Hunger from reading Land, and following the story of Tomas and his family through several timelines. That deep Irish connection to the land itself, the deep-seated anger and humiliation about the British on that land, both come through these characters. I was absorbed in this novel like I rarely am these days by my reading, as O'Farrell pulls us into the land, the light, the air that make Ireland home. While the location isn't named, the map shows the southern peninsulas that stick out into the Atlantic, where my roots are, so her descriptions meant even more to me. This is definitely in the running for one of my top books of the year.

The quotes:

He sees the arrowhead leaves of an aspen entangling with the ripple-edge foliage of an oak, bending together like conspirators.

It never ceases to amaze me how assured you priests are of your place in the scheme of things. What you refuse to see is how recent is your hold here, that the land was inhabited long before you and your kind ever arrived, with your crosses and your prayers. You will never understand how the land remembers, how deep the roots grow, how fast the stream…

Her body reacts before her mind. There is a certain type of cry that sets a mother in motion before she’s even aware of what she’s doing: it’s something in the pitch or the timbre that alerts the animal part of her brain to some manner of disaster.

Liam looking at his father's maps:

There is my father’s p and here is his f and how odd that it comes to a man one day that he cannot uproot his father from him, like an unwanted plant from the soil. There are no boundary walls between them; the two are one and the same. 

A disappointment: Country People by Daniel Mason. I just couldn't get past the immaturity of the main character. I did like Etna, by Paul Yoon, and expect it to get attention from the various book awards. An Odyssey for a dog taken from a family farm and trained to spot mines, the impact of war on everyone and everything was evident. The possibility of a redemptive ending always is a winner for me. 

I feel like I didn't spend as much time reading A Tender Age, by Chang-Rae Lee as I should. I thought it was well written, but it's getting all kinds of accolades. 

Finally (I hope) two nonfiction books: Anne Boleyn and Elizabeth I, by Tracy Borman, and The Traveler: One Man's Quest for Humanity from the South Seas to Revolutionary Paris, by Andrea Wulf. The former posits that even though Elizabeth spent very little time with her mother before she was beheaded, Anne's influence on her through other women in Anne's circles was strong. Well written, and I will be making time to read Borman's new book on the Boleyns. 

The Traveler deserves all its award nominations! I knew nothing about George Forster before I picked up this book, but was swept along as he sailed through the South Pacific with his thoroughly obnoxious father and Captain Cook. He wrote and drew throughout their travels, and observed the people encountered closer than any of the adults on the ships. The rest of his life he was committed to the belief that all people truly are created equal, and stood up to many prominent scientists, writers, and philosophers who claimed white superiority. There's a lovely backlist of Wulf's narrative nonfiction, mostly related to the natural sciences, and hopefully I will make time for them.

One quote that demonstrates George's lovely philosophy:

Reason, feeling and imagination, united in the most beautiful dance, are the three Graces of life,’ he had written in an essay in 1791, his words encapsulating this new understanding of the world.

Looking back, while there were some duds, I managed a decent month of reading. September is starting strong, but with a short trip next week and lots of trip planning for Poland in October and London in December, much of my reading may be travel-related. 

 A long month with loads of reading time means a long summary. 

First off, the mysteries: I finished Peter Lovesey's Peter Diamond series early in August with Against the Grain. This series kept me entertained through the summer, but definitely not in my top tier. I did start two new, shorter series which are both promising. Tim Sullivan's DC Cross series must've cropped up a few years ago, because my notes say I read one of them back in 2023. This month I read The Patient and am hopeful Sullivan continues to build the secondary characters as he did in this book. Cross himself is a wonderful character, but the two women he works with and the pastor of the church where he plays the organ are piquing my interest. 

Dissolution by C.J. Sansom is the first in a series and I loved it. England during the dissolution of the monasteries? Bring me more! Anything I read with Thomas Cromwell brings up immediate comparisons to Wolf Hall, and while it's a bit unfair to compare anyone's writing to Hilary Mantel and her stacks of prize-winning books, I felt this was very well written. When I get a break in all the new fall books that are stacking up on Libby I will definitely dive into the second book in this series.

I also read Shrink Solves Murder by Phillipa Perry. I believe it's her first novel. I know it's my last by her. Not awful, but there's just too many great books waiting for me.

I read three memoirs this month. Dangerous, Dirty, Violent, and Young by Zayd Ayers Dohrn, about being raised by Bernadette Dohrn and Bill Ayers during their years on the run as founders of the Weather Underground. I was fascinated by the Underground growing up, and reading Zayd's perspective brought all that back. Next up was In a Dark Wood by Joseph Luzzi. Luzzi was an Italian professor whose pregnant wife was killed in a car crash. The doctors delivered the baby, and Luzzi becomes totally dependent on his working class family in Rhode Island for the care of his child, and on Dante to help him through his grief. 

My final memoir for the month was Siri Hustvedt's Ghost Stories. I've read several of Paul Auster's novels, but never read anything by Hustvedt until this book. The reviews that led me to it were right. She's a brilliant writer (and researcher in neuroscience) and I grieved with her through this book. Some quotes:

When I told [Paul] this morning that I never thought I would know so much about NSCLC (non small cell lung cancer) and the ups and downs of checkpoint inhibitors etc. as I do now, he said it was like a new war that pops up in the news. One discovers the names of cities and towns one had never heard of before the fighting began. Although I have often resisted bellicose metaphors for illness, cancer’s aggression inspires comparison to a war. Paul is relieved to be marching forward rather than backward, remains brave and hopeful, a model soldier. And I, rather more rattled and less exemplary, nevertheless promise to file my reports from the war zone.

Paul’s favorite Mel Brooks quote comes in several versions. This is the one I remember: “Comedy is when you slip on a banana peel and fall down a manhole; tragedy is when I stub my toe.”

The reader of Melville’s story never knows why Bartleby resists. He’s not a martyr for a greater cause. The big question is: At what moment does not giving in become the same as giving up?

Writing isn’t about what you already know but what you find out you know once you’ve written.

Two versions of time: time as the line of a single human life that ends in death, and time as a wheel that turns and includes the cycles of births and deaths. Bakhtin called these circling repetitions idyllic time. It’s rooted to place, usually rural places.

I'm so glad I picked this one up. She's an elegant yet emotional writer, and her grief is palpable.

A quartet that I read and almost didn't finish: Sunrise, by Tea Obreht, Sisters of a Halved Heart by Nayantara Roy, Under the Falls by Richard Russo, Nesting by Roisin O'Donnell. Maybe I wasn't in the mood for Sunrise? Sisters didn't feel like it lived up to the hype, Under the Falls was definitely a publishing mistake! I think it was supposed to be a screenplay, but when it didn't get picked up they published it. Sad if it's the last book we get from Russo. Nesting may have only disappointed because I felt like it was classified as literary fiction, and it just wasn't. It wasn't bad, just not something I'd normally read. I can probably throw Frida Slattery As Herself by Ana Kinsella in here, too. Maybe I need to stop placing auto-holds on every book by Irish authors I see!

Speaking of, Prestige Drama by Seamus O'Reilly was definitely an Irish book worth reading. Told in multiple first person, a group of people discuss a film about the Troubles that's about to begin filming in their town. The chapter by the former IRA member was the most impressive voice - I'd love an entire novel about him! Some quotes, which I believe are all from that character:

Music for imbeciles. I don’t give a full-time fuck if it was revelatory at the time. So were seatbelts and unleaded paint and indoor plumbing and we don’t harp on about them any more.

I’ll put it this way: if you’re in a maximum-security prison and you look over and see Puff Clancy standing to your left, you’d not be particularly worried about harm to your person. Puff was a proper rare boy, a pure simple from Galliagh, the kind of fella you wouldn’t leave alone in case he fell into the fire

But then, after all, how many potatoes does it take to kill an Irishman? None!

Early in the month I read It Will Come Back to You, by Sigrid Nunez. Why she is not more popular is a mystery to me, as I love everything I've read by her. This is her first published collection of short stories. Some quotes:

Something Jo had learned in psychology: When a person has had a bad parent, the person remains that parent’s child all their life.

The grass growing, the heartbeat of the squirrel, to hear such things—“that roar that lies on the other side of silence”—would be too much for us, it would destroy us, George Eliot said.

And aren’t we all unreliable narrators of our own lives? I see in her the little novelist that sits in each of us busily working to arrange experience into story. The idea that a human life isn’t like a novel, that there is no plot, no narrative arc, that our memories can’t be relied on for shit, and that everything depends on how much spaghetti the chimpanzee put in the pot—this the human heart will not have.

I read Lolly Willowes by Sylvia Townsend Warner, mainly because I've had The Corner That Held Them waiting patiently on my shelves for years (I read a preview of The Corner on my Kindle and I know I'll love it, it's just so thick and there's only so much time.) Lolly is like the antithesis of a Barbara Pym character! Which would I want to be? Townsend Warner makes a good case for becoming the wild woman, the witch. The more I think about this book, the more I like it. Some quotes:

Laura was bored by the church which they attended. She would have liked, now that she was come to London, to see the world, to adventure in churches.

When Laura was ten years older she would be nut-crackerish. 

That’s why we become witches: to show our scorn of pretending life’s a safe business, to satisfy our passion for adventure.

It’s to escape all that – to have a life of one’s own, not an existence doled out to you by others, charitable refuse of their thoughts, so many ounces of stale bread of life a day, the workhouse dietary is scientifically calculated to support life.

I almost gave up on Land, by Maggie O'Farrell and I'm so glad I stuck it out. I locked in about 100 pages in and then never wanted to leave. Another example of how much you can learn about history from a novel. Like understanding the Dust Bowl for the first time after reading The Grapes of Wrath, I feel I know so much more about The Great Hunger from reading Land, and following the story of Tomas and his family through several timelines. That deep Irish connection to the land itself, the deep-seated anger and humiliation about the British on that land, both come through these characters. I was absorbed in this novel like I rarely am these days by my reading, as O'Farrell pulls us into the land, the light, the air that make Ireland home. While the location isn't named, the map shows the southern peninsulas that stick out into the Atlantic, where my roots are, so her descriptions meant even more to me. This is definitely in the running for one of my top books of the year.

The quotes:

He sees the arrowhead leaves of an aspen entangling with the ripple-edge foliage of an oak, bending together like conspirators.

It never ceases to amaze me how assured you priests are of your place in the scheme of things. What you refuse to see is how recent is your hold here, that the land was inhabited long before you and your kind ever arrived, with your crosses and your prayers. You will never understand how the land remembers, how deep the roots grow, how fast the stream…

Her body reacts before her mind. There is a certain type of cry that sets a mother in motion before she’s even aware of what she’s doing: it’s something in the pitch or the timbre that alerts the animal part of her brain to some manner of disaster.

Liam looking at his father's maps:

There is my father’s p and here is his f and how odd that it comes to a man one day that he cannot uproot his father from him, like an unwanted plant from the soil. There are no boundary walls between them; the two are one and the same. 

A disappointment: Country People by Daniel Mason. I just couldn't get past the immaturity of the main character. I did like Etna, by Paul Yoon, and expect it to get attention from the various book awards. An Odyssey for a dog taken from a family farm and trained to spot mines, the impact of war on everyone and everything was evident. The possibility of a redemptive ending always is a winner for me. 

I feel like I didn't spend as much time reading A Tender Age, by Chang-Rae Lee as I should. I thought it was well written, but it's getting all kinds of accolades. 

Finally (I hope) two nonfiction books: Anne Boleyn and Elizabeth I, by Tracy Borman, and The Traveler: One Man's Quest for Humanity from the South Seas to Revolutionary Paris, by Andrea Wulf. The former posits that even though Elizabeth spent very little time with her mother before she was beheaded, Anne's influence on her through other women in Anne's circles was strong. Well written, and I will be making time to read Borman's new book on the Boleyns. 

The Traveler deserves all its award nominations! I knew nothing about George Forster before I picked up this book, but was swept along as he sailed through the South Pacific with his thoroughly obnoxious father and Captain Cook. He wrote and drew throughout their travels, and observed the people encountered closer than any of the adults on the ships. The rest of his life he was committed to the belief that all people truly are created equal, and stood up to many prominent scientists, writers, and philosophers who claimed white superiority. There's a lovely backlist of Wulf's narrative nonfiction, mostly related to the natural sciences, and hopefully I will make time for them.

One quote that demonstrates George's lovely philosophy:

Reason, feeling and imagination, united in the most beautiful dance, are the three Graces of life,’ he had written in an essay in 1791, his words encapsulating this new understanding of the world.

Looking back, while there were some duds, I managed a decent month of reading. September is starting strong, but with a short trip next week and lots of trip planning for Poland in October and London in December, much of my reading may be travel-related. 

What I Read July 2026

 No apologies for the lapse in posting.

This month ended on such an up note, but I'll go chronologically: First up was Look What You Made Me Do by John Lancaster. I've liked the other books of his that I've read, but I knew where this was going to end up mid-book. Not one of my favorites by him. Here's a quote that made me instantly think of the high school reunion committee, though. It was as if he'd met the girls I went to high school with! 

    "Despite being closer to sixty than fifty, the two of them still had the air of recovering mean girls, women who had been bitchy alpha females in their school days and weren't quite sure whether they were ashamed of their former selves, or slightly missed them." 

After that a re-read of Doomsday Book by Connie Willis, since I read a new non-fiction book on the Black Death last month. I was so absorbed in this book the first time I read it that I didn't realize the Disneyland ride my daughter and husband were on had broken down until Cari ran up to me about an hour later. Oops! The re-read was enjoyable, but got me wondering if the internet has changed my reading, because I thought it could have used a good edit of about 75 pages. Still, Connie Willis is a goddess!

I've been having a Peter Lovesey/Peter Diamond summer (I love to find a new to me mystery series, preferably set in the UK, that I can binge read when it's hot out. And it's always hot out here in the summer.) In July I read #16-21, usually in just over a day. I love reading about Bath, and I think I only have one book left.

Breezed through Villa Coco by Andrew Sean Greer, which I guess I was supposed to. Tuscan chaos, great beach read if I ever went to the beach.

My niece wrote a book! My America Blooms, by Nazanin Agange Ford. A beautifully poetic story about moving from Iran to America. She got very lucky with a wonderful illustrator, too!

Astronaut! by Oana Aristide. Absolutely loved this one! Set in Romania in the Ceausescu regime, simultaneously bleak and hopeful, humorous and sad. Quotes:

And despite being much older than most places Constantin is familiar with, this one feels more alive, or more recently alive. Who knows, he thinks, maybe medieval spirits aren't so easily flattened. 

We all complain about having to queue for basic food, the cold in winter, of not being free to speak our minds, but what about culture, what about music and art? That all goes on elsewhere - people collaborate and are inspired by each other's works and build on previous efforts...In arts, in science. While we are stuck! Someone pressed the 'tread water' button on us. Isn't this yet another form of torture?

And a conversation between Lia, a young girl, and her father: 

"And this happened for real?" "Yes, many years ago." "Was I born?" "No, silly, during the Second World War" Lia sees an imaginary ruler before her eyes, with five nicks at even intervals: Dinosaurs, Romans, Turks, World Wars, Lia." (Lia was a great character!)

Dipped into Femina by Janina Ramirez, reading the chapters that interested me. Loved the section about the Bayeux Tapestry! Quotes:

From the Reformation onwards, libraries were scoured for controversial texts. Various shorthand terms were used in catalogues to indicate which should be considered and potentially destroyed. Books were recorded as containing 'witchcraft', 'heresy', and 'Catholic' subject matter; the destiny of many of these texts is unknown, with the lists the only record of their existence. The title of this book - Femina was the label scribbled alongside texts known to be written by a woman, so less worthy of preservation.

Artefacts need context to fulfill their intended role. (Which is probably why the medieval museum in Cologne was so fascinating, as its setting was ecclesiastical.) 

On the Bayeux Tapestry (which is an embroidery, not a tapestry, and probably created by nuns in Canterbury) and its likely designer, a priest named Scolland.

Scolland was a well-travelled man and had visited Rome, where he would have seen the Column of Marcus Aurelius, built around AD 180 to commemorate the emperor's victories at battle. There are many similarities between the composition of the great victory friezes on the imperial Roman sculpture and the Bayeux Tapestry which suggests Scolland may have drawn on it for artistic inspiration, perhaps even sketching it while in Rome. 

The very scarcity of female figures [in the tapestry] naturally makes the three that are included notable. Women are conspicuous by their rarity; the presence of non-presence.

  

Next up was Contrapposto by Dave Eggers. I like him so much as a person that I can overlook a lot in his books. This was full of interesting side characters, but man, Olympia was so hard to take! Still, lots of heartfelt if a bit didactic thoughts on living a life of art. I'm not mad I spent the time reading it, and find it funny that at our local library it will be shelved in the romance section, according to its spine label. :)

Back to a mystery: Murder at the Spirit Lounge by Jess Kidd. OK, not as good as the first in the series. 

Finally, Few and Far Between by Jan Carson. I finished it on the 31st, which meant my favorite book of the month snuck in under the wire. The Lough Neagh archipelago really exists, but the story of some of the islands' residents is all Carson. I have added her other books to my shopping list for London. Quotes:

Robert-John could crawl out from under his father's displeasure and be whatever he wanted to be. Therein lay the problem. What exactly did Robert-John wish to be? He'd been a disappointment for so long, it was hard to picture himself in an alternative role. 

None of these words are alien to RJ. He's only from down the road. His folk also speak like their mouths are full of bog and soda bread. 

It's a lullaby Mutter used to sing...Marion hasn't heard it in years. The memory rises at the back of her throat, in that hallowed place where lament comes from. Also hope.

There are two ways of wearing another's need, Marion's just beginning to realize this. Need can be a heavy burden, or it can sit lightly on the shoulders, like a set of fine feathered wings.  

August reading is already off to an excellent start!

 

 

What I Read November 2022

An excellent reading month! Only one nonfiction book this month: The Island of Extraordinary Captives, by Simon Parkin which was a fascinating tale of a World War II internment camp on the Isle of Man. The British sent thousands of Jewish refugees there in fear that they might be nazi agents. Parkin tells the stories of several artists, writers, and others, including one man who did work with the nazis, but the main character is a teenager whose internment provides him with mentors for his art. 

A few good mysteries: 1989,  by Val McDermid, which I enjoyed. Desert Star, by Michael Connelly, which I bought at his Mysterious Bookshop signing. Not my favorite by him, but of course I'll keep reading until he stops writing about Bosch. And finally, Under a Veiled Moon, by Karen Odden. I was looking forward to this, the second of her (hopefully long) Inspector Corrovan series. This gives Anne Perry vibes, and I felt the second book was much stronger than the first. This one dealt with Home Rule and Irish revolutionaries, and she gave more background on Corrovan's story. I look forward to the next book!

One book of poetry by Saeed Jones: Alive at the End of the World. Just heartbreakingly beautiful.

The only slightly disappointing book of the month was The Cloisters, by Katy Hays. It wasn't awful, but I just think dark academia isn't for me. I find it irritating to read about so many stupid decisions made by smart people! But I did like revisiting The Cloisters through the book. 

One very sweet and quick read: The Reading List, by Sara Nisha Adams. Did I mostly know what was coming? Yes. Did I enjoy the characters and their discovery of the library, and the books on the list? Absolutely.

And finally, some solid literary fiction. Ian McEwan's Lessons got lackluster reviews, but I enjoyed it. Maybe I'm the right age for a novel that reflects on life toward the end of it, but I loved how he showed the impact of historical events on the main character's life. Some favorite sentences:

Describing the main character shortly after his wife leaves him and their baby without an explanation:     

One-handedly he fetched a mop, filled a bucket and cleared up the mess, spreading it widely. This was how most messes were cleared up, smoothed thin to invisibility. Tiredness turned everything to metaphor. (And connecting this to Margaret Roach's The Backyard Parables, which I'm reading now, and which speaks of everything in the garden as metaphor.)

And toward the end of the book, and possibly the end of the main character's life:    

By what logic or motivation or helpless surrender did we all, hour by hour, transport ourselves within a generation from the thrill of optimism at Berlin's falling Wall to the storming of the American Capitol? He had thought 1989 was a portal, a wide opening to the future, with everyone streaming through. It was merely a peak.

The Night Ship by Jess Kidd gave me such vivid nightmares I had to restrict myself to reading it only during the day. Two timelines, one in the 1600s and one in the 1980s, both menacing and claustrophobic. Mayken is a young girl on a ship from the Netherlands to the Dutch East Indies with her maid after her mother dies. Gil, a troubled and secretive boy is sent to live with his grandfather on a remote and haunted Australian island after his mother dies. I grieved for both children, but Kidd gives a glimmer of hope in the end, and exquisite writing throughout. 

A novel about a governess in the Austen family? I grabbed Godmersham Park by Gill Hornby off the new books shelf at the Doylestown Library for the cover alone. Anne Sharpe was a real person, and even if Hornby had to embellish the relationship between her and Jane, it was a delight to read. 

Our Missing Hearts, by Celeste Ng is a dystopian novel dealing book banning, done to protect "American culture." I never felt connected to Bird, and wished we had more of his father. Who's the hero--the parent who stays to raise a child or the one who leaves thinking she can save the world? It did keep me thinking for days after, which makes it a better book for me. 

Finally, and one I'll be thinking about for months: The Trees, by Percival Everett. I cannot describe it well (I've tried, and failed, to convince three different people to read it, so I know I'm missing something in my pitch!) Set in rural Mississippi, the book quickly gives us three brutal murders of white men, all lying next to the same Black corpse. While the MBI investigates there, similar murders take place across the country, all white supremacists (or descendants of) and all with the body of a lynching victim beside them. This short satirical novel had me wincing and laughing, often on the same page. I can see why this was on The Booker shortlist. It's a brilliant book! 

What Else I Read in October 2022

Overall, an excellent reading month. Only two authors I won't keep reading: Alice Feeney (I read Daisy Darker), because I always figure out what's coming, and Emily Henry, because as cute as Book Lovers was, I'm not a fan of the meet cute romance genre. 

Four mysteries: Marple: Twelve New Mysteries, was very enjoyable. Several of my favorite mystery authors contributed stories, and a few new to me authors to add to my TBR list. Next, The Killing Code, by Ellie Marney. Murders of female code breakers. I really liked this one, and believe it was Marney's first historical mystery. I was disappointed with Back to the Garden by Laurie R. King. I wish she'd bring back the Martintelli series! Finally, some of my favorite characters return in The Bullet That Missed,  by Richard Osman. This retirement village is surrounded by murders, but I'd still love to live there if it meant spending time with The Thursday Murder Club members. Osman writes fully realized characters who just happen to be old.

Only one memoir this month: Taste: My Life in Food, by Stanley Tucci. This was a skim read but still interesting. His cancer treatment sounded brutal, and it's hard to look back on his show about eating through Italy knowing he couldn't taste, or at times even swallow the food he tried on camera. 

Fellowship Point by Alice Elliott Dark was recommended by Deb Coco on her Lonestarwords Instagram page. I liked it, but I can't shake my prejudice against rich people and their problems with inheritance:) 

I'll keep reading Julian Barnes until one of us dies, mainly for the clear memory of Flaubert's Parrot pulling me back into literary fiction that made my brain work harder! Elizabeth Finch wasn't one of my favorites by him, but the elegance of his writing, and the expectation that his readers will be able to follow his intellectual digressions are oddly a comfort read for me.

Three new to me authors whose backlist I will seek out: C.J. Carey, whose Widowland is a alternative WWII history with shades of 1984 and The Handmaid's Tale. This ended on the ultimate cliffhanger and I can't wait for the second book to see what she does with it. 

The Apartment by Teddy Wayne is dark academia adjacent--grad school students of very different socioeconomic backgrounds who share an apartment. I read with expectations of a dead body before the last chapter, but Wayne surprised me. 

Finally, Ain't Nobody Give a Shit About What Happened to Carlotta, by James Hannaham is at the top of my list for the month. Most of the book takes place over the weekend Carlotta is released on parole for a crime she didn't commit. She transitioned in prison, spending a lot of time in solitary while enduring abuse from a guard. Her first person account of trying to meet the parole requirements, establish a relationship with her son, and make her place (and peace) with her family made me feel like she was sitting next to me on a long bus ride pouring her heart out. Hannaham pulled some hope and humor out of this, which is why I'll be reading more from him!

What I'm Reading October 5, 2022

First up was Counterfeit,  by Kirstin Chen, a New York Times recommendation. Two women who were briefly college roommates reconnect. One feels trapped by marriage and motherhood, the other has transformed into a beautiful grifter. The plot twist was interesting and I loved the slow reveal of the two main characters. 

The next was also highly recommended in the Times and on several blogs. The Book of Goose, by Yiyun Li. I kept reading in hopes of catching whatever everyone else raved about, but this was not for me. Just too damned depressing.

Alias Emma, by Ava Glass is the first in a series. Emma is a spy for MI6, and for her first mission has to move a Russian target across London to safety without any backup and with no one to trust. It was a bit predictable but would have been a great airplane book. Good enough that I'll keep an eye out for the second book.

I got lucky and got Lucy by the Sea, by Elizabeth Stroud the day it was released. She reminds me a lot of Anne Tyler: the observations of quiet women, which often strike profoundly. Also, notes of Ellen Gilchrist when she weaves characters from other books into each successive book. Another pandemic novel. I'm trying to think of how many I've read. It seems like most of the characters have been upper/upper middle class like this one (other than the main character in The Fall?) Who's going to write that pandemic novel that tells us about the restaurant workers, or the hotel maids, or others who suddenly had no income?

My favorite book of this bunch was The Colony, by Audrey Magee. An English painter heads to a remote Irish island (redundant, I know) with the hope of becoming the Gauguin of the north. He immediately clashes with a French linguist who is studying Irish speakers. Magee's writing was amazing--a blend of dialogue; stream of consciousness from the artist, from James,the teen aged boy who becomes his assistant and mentee, and Mairead, his mother; and brief news briefs about murders committed by the IRA and the British in Northern Ireland.  The artist and linguist argue over colonization while James dreams of going to art school in London. I didn't expect a happy ending, but I wasn't disappointed in the one she gave. I'm surprised this novel didn't make the Booker short list.

I read a bit of a palate cleanser next: The Family Remains, by Lisa Jewell. A quick suspense novel that was intriguing up until the end. I didn't read the first book, so I don't know how these characters were portrayed there, but one character is so deeply twisted that I felt I needed to know more about him before judging the ending. I've added the first book to my list. We'll see if I remember anything about this one when I finally get to it!

Last up, Embrace Fearlessly the Burning World, by Barry Lopez. I'd forgotten what a brilliant writer he is. These essays weren't my favorites, but just the vocabulary expansion did my brain good! And Rebecca Solnit's introduction reminded me how much I love her writing. (Also, it reminded me that her latest book was one someone took from my library sale pile, so I'm annoyed anew.) 

What I'm Reading September 17, 2022

First up and most anticipated, Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow, by Gabrielle Zevin. I don't want to add any spoilers, but one character immediately gave off "too good for this earth" vibes, and... I always feel like I discovered Zevin before anyone else, only because I read her young adult novel Elsewhere when I started working at San Elijo, and it made me realize how much I was going to love choosing books for the library.

Next up was a mystery I waited far too long for. Death and the Conjuror by Tom Mead is a locked room mystery, but the writing just felt stilted. I will give the next book in the series a try when it comes out, but Mead will have to grab me in the first 50 pages!
I checked out a copy of A Place in the World, by Frances Mayes when I saw it on the new book table at the Doylestown Free Library. I've felt she's been riding on the success of Tuscan Sun forever, and this did nothing to change my mind. When I look at the quotes I wrote out, they're all quotes from other authors! Quotes and lots of name dropping made this a meh book for me.
I have mixed feelings about Mohsid Hamid's The Last White Man. A novella, with Hamid's signature lengthy and comma-filled sentences didn't flow right for me. The happy ending seemed pasted on, after the anxiety of whether Anders would survive life as a brown man surrounded by fearful white people. Still, I'm thinking about it over a month after I finished it, which is always a mark of a good book to me. It's just Hamid-lite compared to Exit West.
California Soul, by Keith Corbin was a speed read for me. Corbin grew up in Watts and is now a chef/owner of a restaurant in LA, with stints of drug abuse and prison in between (well, his drug use was concurrent with being a chef.) 
Deanna Raybourn switched it up from her historical mysteries with Killers of a Certain Age, about four women who worked as assassins. The Museum, the agency they work for, was established by former CIA/MI6 agents to track down and kill nazis who escaped justice after World War II, but expands to kill others as time and these agents reduce the number of WWII era nazis. The characters are lightly sketched, but the action and dual timelines kept me reading. I hope she'll continue writing about these women and give us more backstory. 
All the Frequent Troubles of Our Days, by Rebecca Donner, told a fascinating story of German and American resistance in the early days of WWII. I love narrative nonfiction, but this suffered a bit from a scarcity of information on Mildred Harnack. Still, Donner clearly connects the dots between the nazi regime and the current GOP, including the smug belief on the part of German conservatives that they could keep Hitler in check; the belief by Hitler that any publicity is good; the burning torches and banning of books, the false news narratives; and the relegation of women to strictly the role of child bearers and carers. 
Next up: ALL the books! So many authors I love have new books out this fall that I've lost track of those I've ordered and I've hit the limit on holds from the library. It will be a cozy book reading fall, with Grammy's chair to relax in.

What I'm Reading August 18, 2022

Finished Jess Walter's The Angel of Rome and Other Stories. He's one of those writers that makes beautiful writing look effortless. 

Next up was Scattered All Over the Earth, by Yoko Tawada. In the near future, Japan is gone, fallen (sunken?) to climate change, along with most of its citizens. Hiruko now lives in Denmark, seeking anyone who speaks her first language, while she communicates in Panska, a pidgin Scandinavian language she created. She gathers a motley crew and travels around Europe. As she weaves stories for immigrant children out of her memories of Japanese fairy tales, she pulls from universal folklore to fill in the blanks of her memories. Really creative, and I look forward to the next two books in the trilogy.

I followed this up with a binge read of Denise Mina's Garnethill trilogy. Set in the underbelly of Glasgow, I found myself rooting for Maureen, even though I usually hate characters that constantly get in their own way. Very satisfying ending for me!

A nonfiction break with 52 Ways to Walk by Annabel Streets. A nice supplement to The Age Well Project, and a few good ideas for future walks (once it cools off!)

A memoir by Raynor Winn, The Salt Path left me wanting to shake the author at times. A couple loses their family farm just as the husband is diagnosed with a terminal disease. Somehow she decides walking the the South West Coast Path in England is the best way to stretch their dole payment. I kept thinking there should have been someone they could have stayed with, but then there would have been no book. An interesting if disquieting cautionary tale.

The Marlow Murder Club, by Robert Thorogood. A variation on Strangers on a Train, set in a Thames-side village. Very little character development and not a series I'll continue.

Another first in a series English mystery, The Body in the Garden, by Katherine Schellman, was a bit better. Schellman left room for her main characters to grow, and the London setting was a plus. 

I downloaded The Christie Affair, by Nina de Gramont on audio for my visits to Jean, thinking I'd finish it in five days of driving. Instead, Jean got Covid, and I listened around the house. Great narrator, and I figured I knew what was coming, so I wasn't too upset when my loan ended while I still had an hour or so left in the book. Because it was a 7 day hold, I got an instant notification that I could borrow it again, so I finished, and I'm glad it did, because de Gramont added a great plot twist that tied some things up most satisfactorily! 

The Doylestown Library purchased two gardening books I'd requested based on reviews in The New York Times: You Grow, Gurl, by Christoper Griffin and Becoming a Gardener, by Catie Marron. The former was an introduction to houseplants, covering what and where to buy plants, how to place them in your home, and how to pot and care for them. The author is a self-described Plant Kween, and the book is a chatty version of his Instagram, and was a quick and fun read. I'd love to see Griffin and Marron have cocktails together! Marron worked in finance, as an editor at Vogue, and is the widow of a very, very rich man. Her book is gorgeous, sprinkled with watercolor illustrations, paintings (some from their art collection) and photography of her garden. It reads more like a long essay, and reminded me of Dominque Browning, who oddly doesn't get mentioned in the extensive bibliography (and I just went down a Google rabbit hole to be reminded that it was Browning who wrote the reviews of these gardening books!) 

And this morning, I finished Nuclear Family, by Joseph Han, about a Korean family living in Honolulu. I was so close to DNFing this in the middle and am very glad I didn't. The family runs a few Korean lunch plate restaurants, with sporadic help from their two children. Jacob, who knows his family won't accept him being gay, travels to Seoul to teach English. His grandfather, who wanders Seoul as a ghost, trying to return to the north to reunite with his first family, finds Jacob and possesses him. Jacob then attempts to cross the DMZ, failing and bringing massive negative attention to his family in Hawaii. His sister is self medicating her depression with pot, and is never without a bong, a vape pen, or edibles. It was unremittingly bleak, but Han pulls out a hopeful ending. Another reminder that telling a hyper-specific story well always tells the universal story, too: Always connect.