Reading for the Summer Solstice

 

Pillars of the Earth, the first work of historical fiction I read by Ken Follett, made my short list of favorite books ever. I know it must have been at least twenty years since I read it--probably longer--but I still recall specific details from the fictional town and the building of the cathedral with great clarity. I have since read other books from that series and from his century series as well. This month, though, I came across Circle of Days, set before the time of Pillars of the Earth. Although the name Stonehenge is never mentioned, the story moves toward the building of a stone structure to replace the vulnerable wooden columns used to mark the passage of time in ceremonial rites conducted quarterly by a group of priestesses. 

Coming together are the disparate groups living in proximity--sometimes peaceably, sometimes so much: the herders, farmers, woods people (hunters and gatherers), and flint miners. Follett has a knack for characterization--good and evil, selfish and selfless, competitive and cooperative. He also has no compunctions about killing off characters and breaking my heart. 

Whether his characters are moving impossibly huge stones or building by hand a cathedral, Follett is nothing short of convincing. I almost think I could use his novels as a handbook to carry out my own building projects. 

One aspect I found interesting, even amusing, was the idea of a time when people were limited in their understanding of numbers, counting by how their fingers and toes. Giving names to numbers--particularly concepts such as a hundred or a thousand--was still baffling to most.

In this book in particular, Follett has strong female characters in each social group. They often have to face off against the men in their communities as well as their enemies. 

Before reading this book, I was always satisfied with the Arthurian explanation for the existence of Stonehenge: Merlin floated the stones from his place of origin. He didn't make an appearance in this story, so I will have to be satisfied with an alternative explanation. Maybe now Follett can tackle the building of the pyramids.

Reading for the Summer Solstice

Summer Re-Reading

 Like most bibliophiles, my recurring complaint is "So many books; so little time." Knowing that I will never read all the books I'd like to read and that authors are going to keep writing more books, I have already accepted the ruling that before giving up on a book, a person should read 100 pages minus one's age. Even though I know books that took time for the pay-off, I still give up on more these days. I will read a book for book club I might not havre chosen for myself, but I will also choose not to read one if, partway in, I find no redeeming value.

The other challenge I face, though, is the books I have loved that I would love to revisit. Sometimes, I have a hard time justifying re-reading when I have books on my own bookshelf that I haven't read yet. I do find ways to justify re-reading, though. When I taught literature regularly, I made sure that--given the option--I selected books to teach that I would enjoy again and again. One that comes to mind is Charles Frasier's Cold Mountain. I have lost count of how many times I have read it, but it would still be a book I would take to a desert island.

This summer, knowing I am going to be teaching one of our campus's new literary inquiry classes, I have had the delightful pleasure of some favorites for the first time in several years. The course, which will be called Southern Storytelling and Song, will include different genres, so I have been tearing through the ones I have selected, and then I've read others by the same or similar authors.

I read Eudora Welty's One Writer's Beginnings in the first years I taught. I remember some details from the story--hers and those of her parents--so clearly. Returning to her story was just as pleasurable as I remembered. I will also include at least a couple of her stories I love: "Why I Live at the P.O." (particularly lovely if one can find a recording of Welty reading the story herself) and "The Worn Path," often anthologized.

I have also returned to some of the Flannery O'Connor short stories I loved teaching in AP English: "A Good Man Is Hard to Find," "The Life You Save May Be Your Own," "Good Country People," and "Revelation." I never ceased to be surprised when I see myself in some of her "grotesque" characters. Last summer, we visited friends who had retired and moved from Atlanta suburbs to Milledgeville, Georgia. We visited Andalusia, O'Connor's home, where the peacocks have outlived her.

My selections also reflect some of my favorite current authors. I had not read Tony Earley's Jim the Boy since it was new, though I have picked up everything else he has written since. Having just finished Niall Williams' This Is Happiness, I found the parallels between the stories uncanny, both so beautifully told.

I have been a huge fan of Ron Rash's writing since his novel One Foot in Eden won recognition at Charlotte's Novella Festival.  For the class, I am including his short story collection Burning Bright. No writer I know does a better job of creating unforgettable scenes and images in his stories (what poet Cathy Smith Bowers calls the "abiding image"). I know I will also include some of his poetry in the course, which means I get to read those collections again this summer too.

I have noticed that my list of authors weighs heavily toward North Carolina writers. Earley teaches at Vanderbilt now, but hails from Rutherfordton (pronounced locally with just two syllables.) Rash read at the Writers Symposium at Caldwell Community College while I was teaching there and also presented at our state English teachers conference, as did Clyde Edgerton. I am still vacillating between Raney, his first novel, and Walking Across Egypt, another favorite. 

When I re-read a copy of a book I have read (or taught) before, I often find myself turning to the back cover to make note of passages I love, only to find I had marked the same sections before. 

I realize that this re-reading streak also helps me justify keeping books on my shelf long after I finish them. Who knows? I might want to revisit those other books. too.

Summer Re-Reading

Creating a Sense of Place

 One of the books that most captivated me I'm 2025 was Ocean Vuong's most recent novel The Emperor of Gladness. The story of Hai, a young Vietnamese American, opens with a rich description of East Gladness, Connecticut, the town where he lives. Even before Vuong introduces readers to his quirky cast of characters, who become chosen family, he sets the stage.

As I read the opening chapter, I thought about how readers sometimes skim over the descriptive passages, eager to get to the action, as if it's no more than filler. I know I've probably done the same. But Vuong drew me in immediately, making real a place I've never visited--in a state I've never visited. The introduction felt like a promise that the writing to come would measure up; it did. I often forget a lot about books I read, once I've moved on, but I have clear images of the streets and businesses of East Gladness. I know the little house Hai ends up sharing with Grazina, the elderly Lithuanian immigrant who essentially saves his life while she is losing her grasp on her on. Vuong's insight into human nature proves as keen as his eye for the details of the place in which he sets his story. 

Patrick Ryan's novel Buckeye, my first book completed in 2026, began similarly, with a description of the fictional town of Bonhomie, Ohio. The description of the town in the early part of the twentieth century bore no resemblance to East Gladness, CT, but if literary descriptions were works of visual art, the two chapters would hang in the same wing of the museum. As the characters grow up and grow old, the change in the town is reflected: the hardware store where Cal works for his father-in-law increases in size, the plant where Felix Salt worked in management before he left for the war also thrives; neighborhoods grow and merge, so that when Margaret Salt returns after a twenty-year absence, she is aware of the changes in a way that those who never left may be unaware. The reader takes note.

When teaching reading or writing, I often talked about how setting can be very specific--Bonhomie, OH, from WWII through the Vietnam war--or general--long ago and far away. The latter lets readers pick and choose from their own memories or imagination; the former can take a fictional time and place and set the reader right down in the middle of it. When done well--as in these two novels--it works.

Creating a Sense of Place

What "Counts" as Reading?

 I love how passionate readers are about their own opinions as to what counts as reading. I missed the recent guest editorial by Brian Bannon in the New York Times Book Review entitled "Do Audiobooks Count as Reading?" However, I did catch the passionate letters written in response that were published the next week.

People get worked up about the topic, as well as whether physical books are superior to ebooks. I'll start by suggesting that it's okay to make that judgment for oneself but not for others. In my earliest years of teaching, I remember suggesting that a student with reading problems try listening as he read. He had better comprehension and retention than many of my students who had no learning disabilities. 

When my husband moved from Alabama to North Carolina in September while I stayed behind to let my children finish out the school year, I relied on books on tape for the long eight-hour drives on weekends when I visited him. I went from Cracker Barrel to Cracker Barrel where I could buy an audiobook, then turn it back in for a prorated refund based on how long I had it. I graduated to books on CD and then discovered the Libby app that gives me access through the public library (supplemented by Audiobooks.com and the Chirp app). 

I also had one of the earliest eBooks--the Sony version that predated Kindle and Nook--then went on to read on my iPad or my phone.

Yet I continue to buy books and to check out physical copies. I keep several going at once. 

I knew that the eBook experience was comparable--for me--when I would catch myself licking my finger to turn the page. And to answer one complaint about electronic books: Yes, I generally read with a very sharp pencil tucked behind my ear, so I can underlining favorite phrases or make notes in the back. I had to adapt with eBooks and audiobooks.

Last spring, my granddaughter rode with me to the beach as I listened to Abraham Verghese's Covenant of Water. At one point, one of the characters said something particularly poignant. Avery paused the audiobook, took my phone, and typed the quote into my phone notes page where I keep just such quotes. She knew I would want her to capture that one before I even asked. 

Sometimes an audiobook will be so moving that I buy a physical copy to keep, just so I can go back to favorite parts--or read again. But as I compile my list of books read at the end of each year, I include them all because, I have discovered, I can't always remember if I read or listened to a particular title. Since I already subvocalize (a habit speed reading coaches discourage), I already hear all the voices even when I read words on a page. 

Audiobooks make traveling alone more of a pleasure. I can often remember right where I was when I heard a particular passage of a book. (When I was listening to Familiaris in a Wal-Mart parking lot in Lenoir, NC, I remember a particular wave of grief I shared with the protagonist. )

I think of the Israelites in the Old Testament, standing as listening as the sacred texts were read to them. I think of books for the blind. I remember Mrs. Knott reading aloud every one of Laura Ingalls Wilder's Little House series.  You can decide for yourself what counts, but those counted for me.

What "Counts" as Reading?

Resolutions--To Share More

 

Even though the year end has been a little hectic, I have compiled my list of books I read this year. I have also made a resolution to add reviews of favorites, and I have also begun to build a list of other reading-related topics that are on my mind. For now, though, I am sharing my 2025 reading list. I'd love to hear your favorites for the year, as well as what you plan to read next. 

Richard Powers, Playground

Fredrik Backman, The Answer Is No

Richard Osman, We Solve Murders

Tana French, The Searcher

Jodi Picoult, By Any Other Name

Ariel Lawhon, I Was Anastasia

Gordon McAlpine, After Oz

Ingvild Pushoi, Brightly Shining

Kate Quinn, The Briar Club

Weike Wang, Rental House

Cathy Cook, The Beagle and the Boy

David Wroblewski, Familiaris

Ruby Todd, Bright Objects

Clare Chambers, Shy Creatures

Mark Sullivan, All the Glimmering Stars

Alison Epach, The Wedding People

Rufi Thorpe, Margo’s Got Money Troubles

Jean Hanff Korelitz, The Plot

Jeff Zentner, Colton Gentry’s Third Act

Anne Berest, The Postcard

Liz Moore, The Unseen World

Ruta Sepetys, Between Shades of Gray

Matthew Sullivan, Midnight at th4 Bright Ideas Bookstore

Colum McCann, Twist

Amity Gaige, Heartwood

Lucy. Foly, The Book of Lost and Found

Jim Sollisch, How Donating a Kidney Fixed My Jumpshot

Natalie Sue, I Hope This Finds You Well

Julie Clark, The Last Flight

Tom T. Hall, The Songwriter’s Handbook

Tamara Saviano, Poets and Dreamers

Emma Donoghue, The Paris Express

Scott Lamascus, Let Other Hands

M.L. Rio, If We Were Villains

S.E. Hinton, The Outsiders

Eileen Garvin, The Music of Bees

Fredrik Backman, My Friend

Jess Walter, So Far Gone

Florence Knapp, The Names

Alton Flippo, From the Fest of My Memories

Alice Hoffman, When We Flew Away

Terry Roberts, A Short Time to Stay Here

Chris Whitaker, All the Colors of the Dark

Kevin Wilson, Run for the Hills

Annette Sisson, Winter Sharp with Apples

Allen Eskens, The Life We Bury

Wally Lamb, The River Is Waiting

Terry Roberts, The Holy Ghost Speakeasy and Revival

Barbara Demick, Daughters of the Bamboo Grove

Nate Bargatze, Big Dumb Eyes

Jon Acuff, Soundtracks: The Surprise Solution to Overthinking

Ocean Vuong, The Emperor of Gladness

Charles Martin, When Crickets Cry

Virginia Evans, The Correspondent

Hampton Sides, The Wide, Wide Sea

Jo Harkin, The Pretender

Alan Levi, Theo of Golden

Marjan Kamali, The Lion Women of Teheran

Charmaine Wilkinson, Good Dirt

Charlie Peacock, Roots & Rhythm

Cynthia Ozick, The Shawl

Dan Brown, Secret of Secrets

Lily King, Heart, the Lover

Messie Condo, Nobody Wants Your S@#t!

Hazel Gaynor and Heather Webb, Christmas with the Queen

Richard Osman, The Impossible Fortune

Helen Maria Viramontes, Under the Feet of Jesus

Arlen Jay Staggs, Leta Pearl’s Love Biscuits

Beth Ann Fennelly, Irish Goodbye

Connie Jordan Green, Nameless as Minnows

Kristin Hannah, The Four Winds

Thomas Schlesser, Mona’s Eyes

Louise Penny, The Black Wolf

Ian Morgan Cron, The Fix

Craig Havighurst, Musicality for Modern Humans

The Daily Bible in Chronological Order (NIV)

Resolutions--To Share More

Summer Reading Report: Top of the List

With conflicting priorities, I am woefully behind on my book posts, so without further apologies, excuses, or alibis, I will share some of my most recent favorites--in reverse order as I have read them.

Sometimes I read a book and I want to tell everyone I know to read it; others I know are perfect for some of my reading friends and not for others. I find it hard to put into words why I enjoyed Ocean Vuong's The Emperor of Gladness so much, but from the beginning in which the narrator painted the setting, the town of East Gladness, Connecticut, I was captivated. 

Hai, the protagonist of the story, is the son of a Vietnamese single mother, who believes he is in medical school (even though he dropped out of undergrad). He was, instead, in rehab. At the beginning of the story, as he stands on a bridge, ready to jump, he is stopped by Grazina, an elderly Lithuanian suffering from a number of maladies, not the least of which is dementia. She insists he not jump, invites him into her home, and changes the trajectory of his life.

One review referred to the book as the story of "chosen family," and indeed, he find just such connections at a local restaurant that holds itself in higher esteem that it deserves. Hai's co-workers are characters without sliding into caricatures. Vuong's insight into these humans he created moved me. The story was, in turns, heartbreaking and uplifting. His relationship with Grazina, who provides him a place to live in exchange for his help, is both humorous and poignant. When flashbacks send her back to her girlhood, escaping from enemy soldiers, rather than trying to convince her she is mistaken, he takes on the persona of Sgt. Pepper (the name of his restaurant's local rival pizza joint) navigating her through the landscapes of her imagination. 

He also shows empathy for his cousin Sony, who works at the Homemarket restaurant where he finds employment. Sony, who exists somewhere on the autism spectrum, lives in a group home because his mother is in jail with a bail they can't scrape together. Vuong surrounds Hai with flawed and broken people who forge a bond to replace missing familial relationships. The author develops the disparate characters gradually, so that even those most prone to stereotyping come to life. "Heartwarming" is an adjective that is too often a code word for "sappy" or "overly sentimental." This story, with its quirky cast and the author's masterful command of language, literally warmed my heart.

Another recent favorite is Virginia Evans' The Correspondent, an epistolary novel. The letters are exchanged between protagonist Sybil Van Antwerp, a woman in her 70s who has carried on correspondence with friends, family, and even strangers for her whole life. Through the letters Sybil writes and those she receives in response, Evans weaves the story of a life.

Sybil is alone, divorced from the father of her children after the loss of a young son and now estranged or at least distanced from her two remaining children. Whether she is writing to her best friend (and sister-in-law) or the customer service agent she encounters at a company based on Ancestry.com, she asks. "What are you reading?" 

She exchanges letters with authors Ann Patchett (yes, she uses the correct address for Parnassus Books), Joan Didion, and Larry McMurtry. She wages a campaign with a newly appointed university department chair to allow her to audit course, and she exchanges communications with her elderly neighbor and with a Texan gentleman eager to court her. Through the letters, readers learn of her role as assistant to a prominent judge, her family trauma, and her failing eyesight. Sybil Van Antwerp models how to live and to age with grace, forgiveness, and --yes, with love.

Wally Lamb took a long hiatus between books--almost ten years. Honestly, at times I found reading The River Is Waiting painful. Lamb certainly doesn't handle his characters with kid gloves. He lets them walk right into the most unimaginable circumstances. Corby Ledbetter, his protagonist, ends up in prison as the result of a tragic accident that took the life of one of his twins. 

The majority of the narrative takes place behind bars. I was not surprised to learn that Lamb had spent time teaching in a prison. The dynamics between prisoners and the staff are fraught with trauma and with connections. When he has the opportunity to showcase his artistic ability, he not only draws approval but resentment. He is a witness to and victim of unspeakable violence and injustice, but must work within the system. 

At times, I wondered if I could keep reading, but I could not stop. Lamb is a master at storytelling. He builds characters and develops plots that keep readers engaged but guessing. Lamb offers no neatly tied resolutions, but he makes readers believe the story he spins.

Amid all the nonfiction, I found myself captivated by Barbara Demick's Daughters of the Bamboo Grove. The author takes a microscopic look at a rural Chinese family at odds with the one-child laws. When one daughter is taken by the Family Planning Commission, the parents have no idea where she was taken or what recourse they have. Demick alternates between a close examination of this one family's story and a wide-angle view of some of the deception that abounds and the impact of well-meaning adoptive parents. The author's research spans many years, and she finally brings together the birth family and the daughter who remained in China with her twin sister and the American family who raised her.

Demick handles the story fairly and truthfully. She models integrity as she interacts with the two daughters and the families who raised them, opening the door to a future relationship. 

This post is a drop in the bucket of my recent reading, but it's a start. Stay tuned for more.

Summer Reading Report: Top of the List

It Happened on a Train: Summer Reading

Summer, for me, is a marathon reading experience. I maintain a list of books I want to read next, but the list grows and changes. I certainly don't go in any kind of order. In fact, sometimes a book presents itself out of the blue. 

This summer, I saved the "Summer Reading Bucket List" from the Next York Times Book Review earlier this month. Rather than helping me choose books, I use it to mark those I've read that fit the criteria. As a result, though, the selections vary widely. Nevertheless, I am always amused to see the threads that tie my reading together.

Most recently, I read Emma Donoghue's novel The Paris Express, a departure from other books by her I've read--particularly Room, which haunts me still, and Frog Music. This novel follows an ensemble cast of characters heading on a train toward Paris. There is an American artist, a young woman studying medicine, a woman who goes into labor, a young boy traveling alone, employees of the railroad, and a young woman who plans to celebrate her twenty-first birthday by blowing up the train, particularly when she is assured there will be three members of Parliament aboard before they read their destination. 

I'm reminded of Ann Patchett's suggestions that all of her books follow the formula of Canterbury Tales: Take people from different walks of life, put them together, and see what happens.  Based on an actual train disaster in 1895, the author explores the political climate in France as well as some of the fears tied to time and speed. 

The next book I picked up, eager to read it as soon as it was available, was Fredrik Backman's latest book My Friends. (So I get to check off "Read a book in translation.) If both these novels were made into movies, the same actress might be cast in both. In Backman's book, Louisa has just fled her group home on the day before her eighteenth birthday, still grieving the loss of her only friend there. 

She slips into an art exhibit to see a painting that has fascinated her most of her life, since she first saw it reproduced on a postcard she carries with her. Suspected of planning to deface the painting, she escapes into an alley, where she encounters what at first appears to be a homeless vagrant. He is The Artist (as he is called for most of the book). Near death, he commissions Ted, one of his childhood friends to take his life savings to buy back the painting. Then he tells him to give it to Louisa. 

The gift is too much for her. Though Ted is least equipped to deal with the socially awkward teenager, the two end up riding together on a train toward the seaside town and the pier depicted in the painting. They carry the painting and The Artist's ashes, and the back story unfolds. Louisa has to remind Ted that while the story is an old one for him, it is happening in the moment for her.

Anyone familiar with Backman knows that while his stories vary, his skill at developing quirky, engaging characters is a constant. He explores similar themes: the power of love and friendship, friends that are family, with some of the most lovable curmudgeons. Even the minor characters, both the heroes and the villains, come to life.

Maybe what I need is a long, slow train trip with a big bag of books.

It Happened on a Train: Summer Reading