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

Radio Silence Doesn't Mean I'm Not Reading

What probably should be my retirement years haven't turned out to be just that. After one semester off about ten years ago, I've been back as an adjunct ever since. Teaching has never gotten in the way of reading, but combined with other ventures, I've neglected to report on my reading. 

This summer (academic summer, that is; I know real summer doesn't start until June), my reading list covers has run the gamut. I read three pop rom coms in a row. Go figure. I started with The Wedding People by Alison Espach because it was getting a lot of press. It was clever, and the idea of an adjunct ditching her classes and heading off to a tropical vacation--even if it is with suicidal intents--drew me in. Living in Nashville, the bachelorette capital of the US, I also enjoyed some of the humor from an outsider's perspective. 

I also read Rufi Thorpe's Margo's Got Money Troubles, and I didn't find a personal way in. I did finish reading, which I don't always do these days. Then a friend I trust recommended Colton Gentry's Third Act by Jeff Zentner, the story of a B-tier country artist who gets cancelled for an alcohol-fueled rant about gun control, after losing a close friend at a concert shooting. Of the three, this would be the best for a book club because (a. there is SO much food talk, since he ends up looking the restaurant business. If your book club is like mine, a food link makes for a fun evening; and (b. there were some really clever lines--the ones that make me stop and open my notes app.

I also read Jean Hanff Korelitz's novel The Plot, and I will seek out the sequel, aptly entitled The Sequel. For anyone who's read Yellowface, this plot might ring a bit familiar. 

I've read two Liz Moore novels recently. I started with God of the Woods, which has been fun to pass along, followed by The Unseen World, which would make a good companion reading with Richard Power's Playground. While I was "in the woods," I read Heartwood by Amity Gaige, another newer release, set in the northern segment of the Appalachian Trail, when a forty-something woman goes missing. The multiple perspectives are well-done, but making it less a whodunnit than a how's it gonna turn out. Warning to Southern purists: If you listen to the audiobook, the narrator (mis)pronounces Appalachian as Appalaychian instead of Appalatchian. 

Those titles are just a few from my recent reading list, but what brought me back here, wanting to share was a book someone--and I can't remember who--recommended on Facebook: How Donating a Kidney Fixed My Jumpsuit by Jim Sollisch. 

Not infrequently, I am stopping mid-book to tell other reading friends, "You've got to read this one." This is one of those books, but it also makes me want to get out my notebook or open a new document on my laptop and start writing my stories. Sollisch is in the advertising business but has written and published short essays, particularly in newspapers, for several years. Most of these are under three pages. He manages to tell his story, reminding readers just how universal some of those stories really are. It's a book that makes me want to read out loud. I already see so many ways I want to incorporate this book into my freshman composition course when fall semester rolls around. 

Which do I love more--a book that makes me want to read, one that makes me want to write, or one that opens up great book conversations? Maybe all three.

Radio Silence Doesn't Mean I'm Not Reading

Prequels: The Ultimate Spoiler Alert

 

Narratives told out of chronological order are nothing new. After all, Sophocles wrote Antigone about twelve years before Oedipus Rex. C.S. Lewis' Narnia series was likewise written out of chronological order. So when I learned that David Wroblewski had written Familiaris, a prequel to The Story of Edgar Sawtelle, one of my all-time favorite novels, I couldn't wait to read it, but I was concerned about knowing too much.

Familiaris is the story of Edgar's grandparents John and Mary Sawtelle, the original breeders of what become known as Sawtelle dogs. Like the earlier novel, this one is not only lengthy, but grand in scope. While the first novel was a modern retelling of Hamlet, this one does not seem to have such a direct literary origin. 

Wroblewski has assembled a big cast of characters--two childhood friends of John, who come with them to the farm they purchase after becomes across it while waiting on his car too cool off. Their quirks are endearing and surprising. Frank, who lost a leg and arm in the war, is justifiably curmudgeonly. The large and taciturn Elbow discovers his own talent with woodworking, but his charm is his shifting personas--the Man Who Agrees with Everything, the Man Who Questions Everything, and so on.

Throughout the narrative, the author weaves in subplots, the earliest, the man who first tamed wolves; the most significant to the plot, Walter Payne, and Ida, the newborn he discovers in a raging wildfire and takes to raise. The supernatural element of her strange gifts are a small but curious part of the plot.

I knew to anticipate the birth of John and Mary's sons, Gar and Claude, since they are major characters in Edgar's story. Wroblewski's characterization of Claude, in particular, allowed me to be cautiously sympathetic with the boy, despite knowing the role he plays in the future.

Familiaris, above all, is a beautiful love story--John and Mary, naturally, but also their love for the dogs they raise, extending long after sending them to new homes, and from beginning to end, the love under the surface of John, Elbow, and Frank. Wroblewski varies his narrative style from time to time, sometimes almost mythical, sometimes epistolary, but he beautifully captures human nature, particularly the pain of loss.

I suspect I'm going to be re-reading The Story of Edgar Sawtelle, if only to visit the dog Almondine one more time.

Prequels: The Ultimate Spoiler Alert

The 2024 Book Report: My Year of Reading

I plan to follow up with notes on some of my favorite reads this year, here is the list of books I read this year. A few I have to Google to remember their content; others will not leave me. As I read other people's list of favorite books--as well as the New York Times list of the best books of the century so far, my list of what to read next gets longer. Here are the 80 I read and remembered to record:

Books I Read in 2024

Carolyn Weber, Surprised by Oxford

Lee Smith, Silver Alert

Julie Whelan, Thank You for Listening

Elena Ferrante, The Lying Life of Adults

Fred Chappell, I Am One of You Forever

Daniel Mason, North Woods

Kari Gunter-Seymour, Dirt Songs

William Kent Kruger, The River We Remember

Elena Ferrante, My Brilliant Friend

Margo Jodyne Dills, The Nail Set

James McBride, The Heaven and Earth Grocery Store

Jill McCorkle, Old Crimes

Chris Bachelder & Jennifer Hebel, Dayswork

Gary Goldman, What I Meant to Say Was

Abraham Verghese, The Covenant of Water

Luis Alberto Urrea, The Hummingbird’s Daughter

Kaveh Akbar, Martyr!

Mark Zwenitzer & Charles Hirschberg, Will You Miss Me When I’m Gone?

Carla Jean Whitley, Muscle Shoals Sound Studios

Percival Everett, James

Angeline Boulley, A Firekeeper’s Daughter

Sarah Clarkson, Book Girl

David Grann, The Wager

Leif Enger, Peace Like a River

James Goodhand, Day Tripper

Erica Bauermeister, No Two Persons

Ben Groner, Dust Storms May Exist

David Platt, Something Needs to Change

Lucinda Williams, Don’t’ Tell Anyone the Secrets I Told You

Amor Towles, Table for Two

Marianne Worthington, Girl Singer

Leif Enger, I Cheerfully Refuse

Julia Alvarez, The Cemetery of Untold Stories

Colm Toibin, Long Island

John Cowan, Hold to a Dream

Tommy Orange, Wandering Star

Monica Wood, How to Read a Book

Gillian McAllister, Wrong Place, Wrong Time

Luis Albert Urrea, Goodnight Irene

Anita Prose, The Mystery Guest

Sian Hughes, Pearl

Mohsin Hamid, Exit West

Amanda Skenandore, The Life of Mirielke West

Sean Dieterich, Kinfolk

Emilie Hart, Weyward

Barbara Martin Stephens, The People and the Music

Jodi Picoult, Wish You Were Here

Michelle Horton, Dear Sister

Ariel Lawhon, The Frozen River

Honoree Fanonne Jeffers, The Love Songs of W.E.B. DuBois

Joanna Quinn, The Whalebone Theatre

Elizabeth Berg, We All Are Welcome Here

Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Goo Omens

David Barry, Big Trouble

Matthew Perry, Friends, Lovers, and the Big Terrible Thing

Christina Dodd, Daughter of Fair Verona

Scott Owens, Augury of Birds

Adrian Rice, The Chances of Harm

Austin Kleon, Steal Like an Artist

--. Show. Your Work.

Paulette Giles, Chenneville

Elizabeth Strout, Tell Me Everything

Ryan McGee, Welcome to the Circus of Baseball

Brian Fairchild, Willie, Waylon, and the Boys

Tyler Mahan Coe, Cocaine and Rhinestones

Louise Penny, The Grey Wolf

Emily Critchley, One Puzzling Afternoon

Claire Keegan, Small Things Like These

Chris Whitaker, All of the Colors of the Dark

Todd Snider, I Never Met a Story I Didn’t Like

 Amanda Peters, The Berry Pickers

Liz Moore, God of the Woods

Leah Weiss, If the Creek Don’t Rise

Ruth Thompson, Journey Bread

KB Ballentine, All the Way Through

John Thomas York, The Charge,

Claire Keegan, Foster

Desmond Tutu and Ngho Tutu, The Book of Forgiving

Thomas Fuller, The Boys of Riverside

Jonathan Haidt, Anxious Generation

Elizabeth Keating, The Essential Questions

 

 

The 2024 Book Report: My Year of Reading

Two Nonfictions Reads: A Heavy Load

 I have always considered myself a reader of fiction, but I recall years when I was fascinated by biographies and autobiographies. Among my recent reading selections, a couple of nonfiction selections have had a heavy impact. 

Matthew Perry's memoir Friends, Lovers, and the Big Terrible Thing is the very definition of dramatic irony from the first page when he opens with "Hi, my name is Matthew, although you may know me by another name. My friends call me Matty. And I should be dead."

This look into the tortured life of abuse of the actor known for his role as Chandler Bing on the long-running series Friends. Throughout his revelations about his experiences with addiction, "the big terrible thing" of the title, I was so overwhelmed by his sense of hope. 

He describes his may experiences in rehab, as well as his pride for helping others going through the same experiences. He had insight into his overwhelming sense of disconnection and abandonment (sent to fly alone when he was far too young to be on his own) and his sense that he was never enough. He describes breaking up with Julia Roberts before she left him. 

He also paints such a supportive picture of his co-stars on Friends, particularly noting David Schwimmer's generous insistence that they negotiate their salaries as a team, no individually. Most tragic is the sense that his fame and success led others to give him what he wanted, not what he needed, providing drugs until they caught up with them. The news will continue to play out the aftermath as his suppliers face serious charges in his death.

Another recent memoir also let me needing something light to read--as a palate cleanser. Michelle Horton shares her sister Nicole Addimando's story. Charged with murdering her partner and father of her children, after years of physical, psychological, and sexual abuse, Nikki was a test case of new laws to protect victims of abuse. The system failed her. 

Michelle, a single mother raising her son, took in Nikki's children and rallied support for her sister's legal case and then told her story. Her own guilt at overlooking signs of her sister's abuse, she joined forces with other supporters, wearing purple as a sign of solidarity and showing up time after time. 

If the story had been fiction, it would have been tough enough to read. As a true story, it was heartbreaking. I still think it was a story that needed to be told.

Two Nonfictions Reads: A Heavy Load

 One of my strongest-held beliefs is the power of fiction to increase our empathy as we inhabit others' lives. I'd go so far to say that reading fiction is, at least for now, the best way to time travel. Books have taken me to places I might eventually visit, but they have also taken me to other decades and centuries.

I read There, There, the earlier novel by Tommy Orange for which his latest, Wandering Stars, serves as both a prequel and sequel, when it first came out. Now I feel the urge to read it again, even though some parts of the novel are embedded in my brain. 

Wandering Stars starts after the 1864 Sand Creek Massacre, with the story of Jude Star, ancestor to the characters that make up most of the narrative. Orange helps to fill out the complicated history of the country's attempt to "reeducate" Indigenous children, purportedly to "Kill the Indian, Save the Man." 

The stories of extreme abuse in these boarding schools where families were forced to send their children can be found in a number of other novels. Orange follows the family lineage, picking up after the shooting at the Oakland powwow chronicled in There, There. Orange picks up with story lines of some of the characters in that story, but focuses on Orville Red Feather, now dealing with addiction to pain meds after being shot there. His friend Sean, an adopted boy who has recently lost his mother to cancer, finds through a DNA test that while he always assumed he was Black, he has a percentage of Native American blood. 

The novel deals with addiction, while examining identify and family connections. What struck me as I read, particularly since I have read such a range of books this summer, was how beautifully Orange tells the story. Even the references to the wandering stars--literal and figurative--are woven in with such a subtle hand. The book is also a reminder of the power and the necessity of reading books that make the reader uncomfortable.

Summer Is for Reading

 Summer reading has so many connotations. While, for most adults, summer doesn't necessarily have more time for pleasure reading than any other time of the year, the idea of lazy days under a beach umbrella with a good book is still appealing. For those of who living on the academic calendar, summer means a break from boning up on required reading--and especially from reading stacks and stacks of student papers. 

My list of what I want to read next far extends the number of days and hours, but I have made a valiant effort to make the most of reading time. One of the best surprises for me so far has been Monica Wood's novel How to Read a Book, not to be confused with the nonfiction book of the same title by Mortimer Adler.)

This novel opens in a women's prison, where 23-year-old Violet Powell attends a book club while serving time. The narrative shifts perspectives between Violet, Harriet Larson, the retired English teacher who moderates the book club, and Frank Daigle, a retired machinist whose life is inextricably linked to Violet's. 

As a book clubber and English teacher, I loved Harriet's effort to find reading material that will appeal to her motley crew of woman. While the women bond over their supposed antipathy for the book selections, they are won over by poetry, particularly Edgar Lee Master's Spoon River Anthology. 

The book takes interesting turns, especially as Violet tries to start a new life "in the Outs." Wood's story affirms the power of forgiveness, friendship, and second chances. I was already recommending the story before I finished it, knowing I'd need to talk to someone about it as soon as I finished.

Wrong Place Wrong Time by Gillian McAllister, one of the selections from Reese Witherspoon's Book Club, is a suspenseful novel that makes a perfect summer read. As the book opens, Jen Brotherhood is waiting for her 18-year-old son to get home by curfew. She sees him arrive as a man approaches. To her horror, she sees her son stab the man. She and her husband Kelly go through the nightmare of his arrest, forced to leave him in the jail cell. The next morning, she is shocked to see her son at home--until she sees on her calendar that she has over back to the prior day. 

I will admit that I am a sucker for time travel stories. In this story, Jen is moving backward, first a day at a time, and then with larger leaps. Is the butterfly effect in operation? She has to deal with the frustration of knowing that anything that happens, anything she tells anyone will have no impact as she moves backward. McAllister managed to keep me guessing through the entire story. 

I finally got to read the latest Kristin Hannah novel The Women that so many people have been talking about. To be honest, the writing is what one would expect from the romance genre--far too many coincidences, too predictable in places, and nothing so well worded I had to stop and make notes, BUT having lived through the Vietnam era and aftermath, I was interested in this story of the often overlooked women who served as military nurses in country. Frankie McGrath has grown up in wealth and comfort, but has always been haunted by the "hero's wall"--curated by her father who had not been able to serve. 

When Frankie, a trained nurse, joins the Army and volunteers for Vietnam, her parents react in shock. The description of the horrors, the friendships, even the music, the protests, and the inconsistent news reporting bring the historical period to life. Hannah has done her research. In the afterword, she says despite her interest in telling the story decades earlier, she had to wait until she was read to tell the story.

The novel is worth reading, even if only to discuss the era with others. I'm curious as to whether the recurring motifs of cheating death, chance encounters, and dishonest lovers was an obstacle to other readers. 

Summer Is for Reading

When a Book Needs a Playlist

 

I enjoy reading about music almost as much as I like writing about music; it always makes me want to listen to more music too. In recent days, I've picked up a variety of books related to music I enjoy. Will You Miss Me When I'm Gone, the story of the Carter Family had been on my bookshelf for quite awhile, but I took it back down after  Brian Oberlin, mandolinist for the bluegrass band Full Cord, mentioned reading the book while visiting Maces Springs and being inspired to write a song by that same for their current album Cambium.

While most fans of traditional country music know some of the Carter Family story, Zwonitzer and Hirschberg's book goes into such interesting narrative detail. There was much I didn't know about their interaction with other iconic performers. 

I also listened to Lucinda Williams' memoir Don't Tell Anybody the Secrets I Told You on a recent road trip. She narrates the book herself, and she includes the book, the bad, and the ugly. Someone told her to be sure to leave out the part about her childhood---advice she ignored. Williams first came across my radar with the 

release of Car Wheels on a Gravel Road. I've seen her perform, twice since the stroke that left her singing from a stool while someone else accompanied on guitar. 

Her father, the poet Miller Williams, wrote some of my favorite poems. (Please read "The Curator" if you haven't. Then search the internet for photos inside the Hermitage Museum in WWII when the paintings had been removed from their frames for safekeeping.) The tensions resulting fro her mother's struggles and her father's remarriage are told in detail, but Williams draws clear lines between her personal life and the impact on her on singing and songwriting. 

Anyone familiar with her music will not be surprised by the book. Lucinda Williams in life and art doesn't flinch from telling her own secrets.

John Cowan's new book Hold to a Dream is part interview, part memoir. The origin of the book traces back to a series of interviews Cowan conduct

conducted for WSM radio several years ago--with some of his former bandmates in New Grass Revival (including Sam Bush and Bela Fleck, as well as other musicians he admired and respected. Some, such as Leon Russell (usually known as a reluctant interview subject, Loretta Lynn, Kris Kristofferson. However, he also interviews Gordon Stoker, tenor for the legendary backup group The Jordannaires, Californians such as Chris Hillman and Bernie Leadon, and--tying back to the Carter Family--John Carter Cash, who has taken up the mantle of preserving his family's history.

Even more than the other two, Cowan's book calls for a play list. In fact, he occasionally adds footnotes advising readers to listen if you aren't familiar with certain recordings or performers. What struck me in this book was Cowan's acknowledgement that he came to music--and to these interviews--first as a fan. 

I should note that writer Jimmy Schwartz collaborated on the project, helping to turn the book into something more than a series of interviews, instead encouraging Cowan to weave in his own story and his connections to the people on whom he focuses. At their Parnassus Books launch, Schwartz encouraged readers to start with the Epilogue and then to read the book. I took him at his word.

When a Book Needs a Playlist

Three Books Suggestions for Three Different Kinds of Readers.

Nothing pleases me more than the chance to talk books with fellow bibliophiles. I realize, though, that when someone asks for reading suggestions, my answers are never one-size-fits-all. I read--and enjoy--such a variety of books, but what might suit one reader wouldn't suit another. That is part of the underlying message of Erica Bauermeister's novel No Two Persons.  The title refers to the saying, "No two persons read the same book." The book is called a novel, but could also be considered a series of interlocking short stories. 

The book opens with Alice Weir, the aspiring writing whose story finds her, in the character of Theo. Readers meet Lara, the young mother working through the slush pile, looking for the book that will establish her credibility--and it is Theo. Readers also meet the actor who turns to narrating audiobooks after a skin condition ends his career. The book publisher, a diver, an artist, and a high school student trying to keep her homelessness secret until she can graduate high school. Bauermeister creates a unified, satisfying whole. 

I was slow coming to Verghese's The Covenant of Water, even though I remember loving Cutting for Stone. I will admit that the length of the book led me to slide it down the stack--until I decided to take along the audiobook on a beach trip. This was. one of those books I wanted to recommend to other people before I even finished it. Spanning the first three quarters of the twentieth century, this story starts with the arranged married of a fourteen-year-old girl to a widower in his forties who needs a mother for his son.

While that scenario on its own could have gone so wrong, the marriage becomes a real one

The story is set in a village in India that is part of the community known as St. Thomas Christians, tracing their lineage to one of the twelve apostles believed to have made his way to the country. The narrative had me moving swiftly from laughing to weeping in short order. I also had to keep a pen and paper nearby to jot down some of the beautiful lines.

Verghese introduces interesting characters, including Digby Kilgour, a Scottish doctor who moves to India to practice medicine. The leper colony where he eventually lands is a rich part of the narrative. The title refers to a condition in the main family of the story. The young bride quickly recognizes her husband's unnatural avoidance of water, learning that "the condition" has been present in the family for generations. 

These characters face loss, betrayal, disease, accidents, and disappointments, but the story is one of redemption nonetheless. It was worth the more than thirty hours of listening.

s

 James Goodhand's novel The Day Tripper, set in London, uses a similar plot device to Margarita Montimore's Oona Out of Order, which I read a year or so ago. The protagonist in this story Alex Dean is about to beat the odds, with acceptance to Cambridge offering escape from his life of poverty, never able to live up to his father's expectations. He has met a girl--a medical student--who seems the perfect match, when an encounter with an antagonist from his past leads to a fight--and he wakes up not only in another place, but another time. 

The pattern continues, with him waking each day in a different time and location. Sometimes he is at rock bottom; sometimes he has glimpses of hope. Every day he has to learn quickly from context. Then he meets a man--a high school teacher--who has some inkling of his situation. 

What begins as a frustrating tale turns into story of the fragile balance between fate and free will. Alex finds that he not only can but must pull against the weight of history. The dramatic irony is both nerve-wracking and great fun. I dare say the book is about hope.

Three Books Suggestions for Three Different Kinds of Readers.

Urrea's The Hummingbird's Daughter

 When I first encountered Luis Alberto Urrea, I read his novel House of Broken Angels, and was particularly fascinated with how well he wrote from women's points of view. The book was a modern family tale complicated in the way families are. I went on this year to read Goodnight Irene,  the story influenced by his mother's experience as one of the Red Cross "Donut Dollies" during WWII.

I stumbled across The Hummingbird's Daughter and started listening to the audiobook, unaware when the book was written. Only after I finished did I learn that it had been awarded the Kiriyama Pacific Rim Prize in 2006--not a new book after all. But this one is another sprawling tale, this time set in Mexico in the late 19th century. Teresita, the main character, was born to a poor 14-year-old Indian girl and abandoned with her abusive aunt before Huila, the local healer--considered by many a witch--takes her in as her apprentice

Eventually, she comes to the attention of Don Tomás Urrea, the wealthy rancher. The relationships between the different social classes is complicated since Urrea, a philanderer, is the apparent father not only of Teresita but other children as well. The book is reminiscent of the works of Gabriel Garcia Marquez. When she is fatally attacked but returns to life before her burial, the attention draws swarms of pilgrims hoping for healing. 

Urrea worked almost twenty years on the novel, based on historical characters to whom he may share kinship. He explains in the afterword that in some areas Teresita is still revered as Saint of Cabora. The writing is particularly strong, with well-drawn, layered characters and details both powerful, painful, and at times, humorous. 

Before I was halfway through the book, I was thinking of friends to whom I needed to recommend it. That's the ultimate reading experience--one I want to share.

Urrea's The Hummingbird's Daughter

Catching up on My Tar Heel Writers

 

With the recent news of the passing of Fred Chappell, the former North Carolina poet laureate and a true gentleman, I re-read his lovely book I Am One of You Forever. Chappell wrote poetry as well as fiction and was so generous with his support and encouragement of aspiring writers. This particular book, set on a farm around the time of World War II, is a family story, told with such a gentle hand. 

Jess, the protagonist, is ten when the story opens. Central to the story are his parents and Jonathan, an orphaned teenager who comes to work on the family, sharing a room with Jess, before  

 enlisting. A number of family members visit--particularly colorful uncles with quirky appetites and massive beards.

Chappell doesn't adhere to strict chronological order as he arranges his chapters. Rather than setting up some events as flashbacks, he just shares an earlier narrative event as if, perhaps, he had just recalled it. I know so many authors have chosen to write a coming of age story. Jim the Boy by Tony Earley (also a native North Carolinian) is another excellent example. Other successful writers I won't name fall short of the bar Chappell established when they attempt to tell a nostalgic story from a young protagonist's perspective. 

While I was on my North Carolina streak, I also discovered that Lee Smith had a new novel Silver Alert. This story, set in Key West, Florida, focuses first on Herb, aging and unhealthy, but trying to care for his beloved wife Susan at home, even though her dementia makes it a difficult challenge. A manicurist who calls herself Renee comes to the house and has a calming effect on Susan, endearing her to Herb. As his children stage an intervention, insisting Susan belongs in a facility where she can be better cared for, Herb takes Renee on a last adventure in his sports car, and they end up heading toward Disney World. Whether I am listening to an audiobook or reading, I always hear Smith's voice as I read--full of humor but still so tender in her treatment of her characters.

Last, I had the opportunity to hear North Carolina's Jill McCorkle read from her short story collection Old Crimes at Parnassus Books. Like Smith, McCorkle has such a distinctive writing voice. These stories have some subtle overlapping of characters, while each stands alone. One quirk she noted is the multiple appearances of belts of all kinds in the stories. A teacher myself, I always particularly enjoy McCorkle's stories told from a teacher's perspective. One in particular reminded me of a favorite scene in her novel Life after Life.  I may be re-reading that one.

Catching up on My Tar Heel Writers

Fiction: Two for 2023

When I get multiple recommendations from readers I trust for a book by an author whose books I have loved, I go for it. Geraldine Brooks' novel Horse is a case in point. I especially loved People of the Book, with its reverse chronological timeline. This latest novel moves back and forth between the South during the slavery era and current Washington D.C. In present day, the two main characters are Theo, a Nigerian American  studying historical equestrian art, and Jess, a scientist at the Smithsonian who becomes aware of the skeleton of an important race horse stored in the institution's attic. 

In the back story, Jarrett is an enslaved son of a freed black horse trainer who forms a special bond with a horse he has known from its birth. The narrative delves into the politics of race and horse breeding across centuries. As readers discover in the epilogue, Brooks based the story on fact, particularly the racehorse Lexington, which went on to be one of the nation's most prolific sires.

I also learned a lot about equestrian artists of the day, preserving for posterity what would eventually be accomplished by photography. Through her characters, Brooks presents the complicated and many layered perspectives on race, slavery, war, and ultimately, human nature.

Another book that surprised me this past year was R. F. Kuang's novel Yellowface. If I were teaching a literature survey course, this novel would give me the ideal example of an unreliable narrator. The story opens with June Hayward, an aspiring writer yet to achieve the success for which she longs. After a dinner with her former classmate, rising star Athena Liu, she is invited to go back to Athena's apartment, where she discovers that her peer is not only achieving fame for her current publication, but she has a completed manuscript in her office. 

Early spoiler alert: When Athena chokes to death in her presence, June can't avoid the temptation to take the manuscript for herself. The drama that develops as she convinces even herself that the edited work is her own is heightened as she is challenged both anonymously on social media and directly, particularly by those who accuse her of appropriating the story of Chinese laborers in World War I. That she allows her editor to convince her to use her first and middle name, Juniper Song, falsely suggested Asian roots, further complicates the plot. As June takes actions that make readers squirm, thinking, "Surely not!" she becomes increasingly delusional and paranoid. Kuang's story may add to the dialogue about who has the right to tell what story, but at its core, the story is a psychological thriller as well.

Fiction: Two for 2023