A Book A Week

How strong are the ties that bind us to another person? Are we shaped more by who we are at our core, or by the lives we’re forced to live? These are the questions at the heart of Tayari Jones’s Kin. Following the success of An American Marriage, Jones once again explores a relationship shaped by separation—this time shifting her focus from marriage to the enduring bond between two best friends. The result is another moving story that blends elements of historical fiction with a deeply layered portrait of friendship.

Vernice “Neicy” and Annie were, in many ways, cut from the same cloth. Neicy was orphaned at just six months old after her father murdered her mother. Annie never knew her father, and her mother abandoned her days after she was born, leaving her to be raised by her grandmother. In Honeysuckle, Louisiana, family isn’t always about blood—it’s about who shows up. And for these two girls, that shared understanding binds them together.

But as they grow older, their paths begin to diverge. Determined to give Neicy every opportunity, her aunt sends her off to Spelman College, where she finds herself among a circle of ambitious, well-connected women and eventually marries into wealth. Annie, meanwhile, is driven by a different need—the desire to find the mother who left her behind and finally make sense of that absence. As they move further into their separate lives, the question becomes not just who they will become, but whether the bond that once defined them can survive the distance between who they were and who they’re becoming.

Tayari Jones once again proves her ability to craft complex, deeply realized characters in Kin. We follow Neicy and Annie as they come of age during the Jim Crow era, though the historical backdrop serves more as atmosphere than the novel’s central focus. This is, first and foremost, a story about growth—about how these two girls evolve into very different women.

Through alternating perspectives, Jones allows us to feel the widening distance between them, each chapter deepening the divide shaped by their choices and circumstances. She resists offering clean, easy answers, instead inviting us to sit with the complexity of it all. What emerges is a thoughtful meditation on friendship—how it endures, how it fractures, and how much of who we become is shaped by the lives we’re given.

For more information, visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads. 

(2026, 23)

In the early part of 2020, my husband and I decided it was finally time to start looking for a house. We’d been saving for years, and although we were excited at the prospect of becoming homeowners, we were also overwhelmed by the magnitude of it all. Fortunately, we ended up with the best-case scenario. We found the perfect place on our very first day of home tours, made an offer the next day, and closed just a few weeks later. The week after we moved in, the entire world shut down for the COVID-19 outbreak. We still can’t believe how lucky we were.

But for many, the journey to homeownership isn’t nearly so smooth. Bidding wars, soaring prices, impossible competition—buying a home has only grown more stressful in recent years. It’s that very pressure that inspired Marisa Kashino’s debut thriller, Best Offer Wins. So when her publisher offered me the chance to read the book, I was far too intrigued by the premise to say no.

Margo Miyake has spent years trying to build the perfect life. She’s got a great job as a publicist, and her husband Ian is smart, kind, and devoted—the perfect partner. But there are still a few pieces missing from the picture she’s trying so hard to complete. One is a child. Despite their best efforts, they haven’t been able to conceive. And of course, a baby won’t matter if they can’t get out of their cramped one-bedroom apartment. Finding the perfect home hasn’t been the challenge, but actually buying one has. After eighteen months and eleven lost bidding wars, the heartbreak feels never-ending.

Then Margo gets a tip about the perfect house in the perfect neighborhood, set to hit the market in one month. She drags Ian on a “just to look” drive-by and instantly falls in love. Naturally, she has to see the backyard. The tire swing beckons her closer. And when she’s spotted by one of the homeowners, caught in the act, she offers a harmless excuse and promises Ian she won't cross any more boundaries. Still, Margo can’t let this place go. It’s now or never, and she’s determined to make this house her own.

So what if she starts slipping into the lives of the couple preparing to sell it? Some might call it stalking; others, trespassing. But to Margo, it’s simply the game you have to play in today’s cutthroat housing market. As her obsession deepens, she becomes undeterred by normal boundaries. No act is too bold—or too inappropriate—if it means claiming the life she’s always dreamed of.

Best Offer Wins might just be the most over-the-top, propulsively readable thriller I’ve picked up this year. I alternated between reading the physical book and listening to Cia Court’s excellent audio narration, and I was equally enthralled in both formats. Kashino has written a thriller rooted in the stress and chaos of today’s housing market, pushing her protagonist just past the edge of sanity and polite society. And the remarkable thing is, we’re rooting for her the entire time.

As Margo buckles under the pressure of trying to conceive, trying to find the perfect house, and coping with that stress in increasingly disturbing ways, we can’t help but think, yeah… I get it. Good for her. Sure, there were a few moments when I had to roll my eyes at her choices, but even as the story shifts from clever satire to something darker and more twisted, I couldn’t look away. Best Offer Wins is a must-read thriller for our times and absolutely one of the best of the year.

For more information, visit Amazon and Goodreads. 

(2025, 93)

From the outside, Sarah and Adam appear to have a perfect marriage. She’s a high-powered attorney in D.C. with an unbroken winning streak. He’s a published novelist working on his next book from their quiet lake house. Together, they look like a golden couple. But appearances can be deceiving.

Behind closed doors, Adam is unraveling. He's grown resentful of Sarah’s meteoric rise and bitter over his own creative failures. While she racks up victories in court, he sinks deeper into self-pity and distraction… including an affair with Kelly Summers, the wife of an abusive cop. Just as Adam prepares to leave Sarah and start over with Kelly, everything falls apart. Kelly’s body is found at the lake house, where Adam last saw her, and he’s arrested for her murder.

Despite the betrayal, Sarah agrees to represent him in court. She took a vow after all. She knows Adam is a liar. She knows he’s a cheater. But is he capable of murder?

The Perfect Marriage by Jeneva Rose has been on my TBR list for years, and I finally picked it up thanks to it being my book club’s July selection. I can’t believe I waited this long! Rose delivers a fast-paced psychological thriller full of shifting perspectives, layered motivations, and a twist I truly didn’t see coming. Sure, some suspension of disbelief is required—par for the course in this genre—but I devoured it in one sitting and had a blast. Now I’m itching to dive into the sequel that dropped earlier this year. If you're looking for a thriller that's easy to binge and packed with surprises, this one absolutely delivers.

For more information, visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads. 

(2025, 61)

I’m back home today after an extended Mother’s Day weekend that also included attending a wedding. I’ve mused before about the emotional convergence that weddings tend to bring—the blend of joy, family tension, and personal drama that often threatens to eclipse the celebration itself. What should be a weekend devoted to love and union frequently becomes a showcase for old grudges, awkward reunions, and complicated dynamics. It’s precisely this fertile ground that Anne Tyler draws from in her latest novel, Three Days in June.

At the heart of the novel is Gail Baines, a woman caught at a crossroads. After years of loyal service as second-in-command at a private girls' school, Gail is passed over for the headmistress role in favor of a younger, fresher face. Worse still, the incoming headmistress plans to bring in her own assistant, leaving Gail not just overlooked but out of a job, just a few years shy of retirement. Rather than wait to be pushed out, Gail storms out first. 

She barely has time to lick her wounds. Her only daughter, Debbie, is getting married tomorrow, and there’s no shortage of things to stress about. She wasn’t invited to the mother-of-the-groom’s spa day, and she’s beginning to worry she’s losing her daughter to this new family. As if that weren’t enough, her ex-husband Max has arrived—rescue cat in tow—and due to the groom’s allergies, he’ll be crashing at Gail’s place for the weekend.

Annoying? Certainly. Manageable? Gail hopes so. But when Debbie confides in her parents a secret about her soon-to-be husband, it throws the entire wedding and their already complicated family dynamic into question.

Three Days in June showcases Anne Tyler’s sharp understanding of human nature in a brief yet emotionally resonant novel. This was my first experience with Tyler’s writing, and I was immediately struck by her witty nonchalance and ease with emotional nuance. For such a short book, it’s impressively layered, balancing humor, heartbreak, and rich character development with graceful precision. The novel plays almost like an anti-romantic comedy. Gail, our wonderfully dry and self-sufficient protagonist, serves as a counterpoint to the wedding festivities—a celebration of union set against her solitary, hard-won independence. I was in awe of Tyler’s ability to tackle big themes, such as loneliness, aging, and the fragile bonds of family, while grounding the story in warm, often laugh-out-loud humor. The result is a novel that both challenges and charms. It's a deceptively light read with surprising emotional heft.

For more information, visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads. 

(2025, 36)

As the year winds down, I’ve spent my days leisurely working through one final novel. My introduction to Alice McDermott’s reflective storytelling came last year with Absolution, and ever since, I’ve been eager to delve deeper into her work. Her 2017 novel, The Ninth Hour, was widely acclaimed upon its release and even garnered the prestigious National Book Award. This profoundly moving story spans the twentieth century, weaving the tale of a widow, her daughter, and the nuns dedicated to serving their Irish-American community in Brooklyn. I was utterly enthralled by the richly drawn characters, making it the perfect book to close out another year of reading.

The novel opens with a harrowing tragedy. Jim, a young Irish immigrant, has reached the end of his rope. Recently dismissed from his job in the subway system and unable to envision a future where he can support his pregnant wife, he makes a desperate choice. Opening the gas taps in their Brooklyn tenement, Jim's despair culminates in a fire that ends his life in a heartbreaking flash.

In the aftermath of this devastating loss, his widow, Annie, is left to face an uncertain future with an unborn child on the way. Seeking solace and direction, Annie turns to the church, the one place that offers a semblance of hope amid her grief. Enter Sister St. Savior, a beacon of compassion who provides Annie with work in the convent's basement laundry and, more importantly, a sense of purpose and stability. Sally, Annie's newborn daughter, grows up at her mother's side, peacefully resting in a basket as Annie toils in the steamy confines of the basement.

As the story unfolds, we are drawn into the lives of these richly crafted characters across generations. Through themes of love and sacrifice, guilt and forgiveness, hope and despair, The Ninth Hour offers a poignant exploration of human resilience. Alice McDermott’s prose brings a quiet urgency to even the most mundane moments, imbuing them with significance.

While I was already impressed by McDermott’s writing in Absolution, I found The Ninth Hour even more moving. The novel pulled me into the lives of its characters as they navigate the challenges handed to them, making the best of their circumstances with grace and determination. It’s a quietly powerful read that lingers long after the final page—a fitting way to close the book on 2024 and turn toward the promise of a new year.

For more information, visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads. 

(2024, 95)

Over the past two years, my family has celebrated several weddings. First, my brother married his bride, a beautiful event that concluded their extended engagement due to COVID-19 and their pursuit of PhDs. The following fall, my sister-in-law had her own wedding, an out-of-town bash that was both a fantastic party and a heartfelt ceremony, bringing both smiles and tears to many eyes in the crowd. Reflecting on these events, I was struck by the vast mix of emotions that weddings bring. They are celebrations of love, commitment, and the merging of two families. However, they are also stressful, particularly for those planning and ensuring everything goes off without a hitch. In her newest novel, The Wedding People, Alison Espach delves into the complexity of these celebrations, crafting a story that explores this mix of emotions through striking commentary, humor, and good old-fashioned storytelling.

The Cornwall Inn is renowned for its pristine condition, prime location, and hosting the most luxurious weddings. Nestled in beautiful Newport, Rhode Island, the hotel and its staff excel at ensuring every event goes off without a hitch. This makes it the ideal venue for twenty-eight-year-old Lila's big day. She has meticulously planned every detail of her six-day celebration, knowing that a girl only gets one chance at the perfect wedding. Friends and family have arrived, and the festivities are set to begin.

Phoebe is depressed. There's no denying that the past year has been the worst of her life. Infertility, infidelity, divorce, and now the death of her cat have brought her to this point. She arrives at the Cornwall Inn with no bags, not planning to check out. Phoebe has sadly concluded that her life should end here, and she might as well do it in a luxurious hotel. As she enters the hotel lobby, she is immediately mistaken for one of the wedding guests. After all, everyone else is here for the celebration. She is soon roped into the festivities, leading to a chance encounter with the bride. Phoebe is the one scenario Lila didn't plan for. As the two begin to confide in each other, their unexpected meeting starts to reshape the path of both their lives.

I first encountered Alison Espach's writing through her 2022 novel Notes on Your Sudden Disappearance. That novel dealt with the sudden loss of a child from the perspective of her younger sister. Espach's ability to blend a coming-of-age story with contemplations of grief and a touch of humor made it one of my favorite reads of the year. Naturally, I was eager to read her latest novel and gladly accepted an audio copy from her publisher.

The Wedding People takes the idea of the contrasting emotions among wedding participants and maximizes it to the extreme. On one hand, we have Lila, the blushing bride, eager to start her happily ever after. On the other, Phoebe has lived a life that proves happily ever after is a myth; she's ready to end it all. By combining these characters, Espach explores the ups and downs that life can bring, delving into complex subjects such as suicide, death, infertility, divorce, and depression.

This book won't be for everyone, and I can see many choosing to avoid it purely because of the subject matter. For me, though, I appreciated the way Espach approached heavy topics with humor, grace, and zero judgment. If we could all do the same, the world would be a better place. The Wedding People is a summer read that dares to give readers something to ponder. Like her previous work, this one will no doubt be one of my favorite reads of the year.

For more information, visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads. 

(2024, 59)

The summer of 1974 proved to be a turbulent period in Boston. A scorching heatwave blankets the city, mirroring the simmering civil unrest beneath the surface. The city's decision to support the desegregation of all public schools triggers significant upheaval, as it means students will be bussed across town to foster greater integration on school campuses. In "Southie," a proud, long-standing Irish enclave steeped in tradition, the residents are deeply disgruntled. Desegregation jeopardizes their way of life, regardless of its inherent prejudice, and they are willing to go to great lengths to prevent it.

Amid these tensions, Mary Pat Fennessy is also deeply troubled by the news regarding the schools. But she's grappling with more immediate concerns. As a single mother, she struggles to stay one step ahead of bill collectors. One night, Mary Pat's teenage daughter, Jules, stays out late and doesn't return home. The same evening, a young Black man meets a tragic end, struck by a subway train in mysterious circumstances. Initially, these two occurrences appear unrelated. However, Mary Pat begins to uncover deeply unsettling connections, propelling her into a relentless quest to locate her missing daughter. Desperate for answers and undeterred by potential consequences, Mary Pat embarks on a journey that leads her to confront mobsters, politicians, and fellow citizens, all entangled in the tumultuous backdrop of the era.

Dennis Lehane's novels, such as Mystic River and Shutter Island, are among my all-time favorites. Thus, when I first got wind of his latest offering, Small Mercies, I quickly included it in my reading list. Lehane possesses a narrative style that cuts to the core, unafraid to illuminate the most unsettling facets of our history. By situating his latest creation within the backdrop of the civil rights movement, Lehane introduces an inherent tension that simmers to the surface in several heart-wrenching scenes. The connection between Mary Pat and her Black co-worker generates one of the most emotionally charged moments I've encountered in any book this year. However, that's just skimming the surface of this exceptional literary work.

Beneath the racial complexities that form the foundation of this tale lies a deep contemplation on the essence of motherhood. In Mary Pat, Lehane has molded a woman in the throes of desperation. She grapples with the desperate struggle to stay afloat, both financially and emotionally. Her desperation is magnified by her desire to be a good mother, offering her daughter a chance at a life better than her own. As her daughter vanishes, she becomes consumed by the desperation for answers, willing to go to any lengths to find closure. Mary Pat is a profoundly multifaceted character, wrestling with her own personal demons, including deep-seated racism. Nevertheless, I found myself drawn into her story, empathizing with her predicament and rooting for her path to redemption.

Lately, Lehane has been heavily immersed in writing, producing, and showrunning television series. In interviews promoting this book, he hinted that it might be his final novel. If Small Mercies marks the culmination of his literary career, it serves as a remarkable note to end on. Nonetheless, for the sake of readers, I hold out hope that more stories are waiting to be told by this gifted author.

For more information, visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads. 

(2023, 87)

I know what you're thinking. What is a Christmas story doing here in the middle of spooky season? While October typically revolves around tales of ghouls, ghosts, and chilling narratives, it also marks the beginning of the holiday season in the publishing world. Many authors release their festive stories early, hoping to capture readers' attention before the holiday rush.  When my friends at Atria Books presented me with the chance to read Janice Hallett's holiday-themed follow-up to her book The Appeal, I couldn't help but get swept up by the holiday spirit. It provides a gentle introduction to the season, one tinged with a touch of mystery that I couldn't resist. 

Lower Lockwood is embracing the Christmas season, with the Fairway Players fervently rehearsing their holiday production of "Jack and the Beanstalk" to raise funds for a new church roof. However, goodwill is in short supply among amateur theater enthusiasts, with petty rivalries, concerns about asbestos in the beanstalk, and persistent absenteeism among the cast.

On the night of their production, a dead body is discovered onstage. Who could have harbored ill intentions toward the victim during this festive season? Lawyers Femi and Charlotte embark on an investigation that involves analyzing Christmas letters, scrutinizing emails, and delving into police transcripts to unmask both the victim and the killer before the final curtain falls on the holiday production. 

The Christmas Appeal provided a much-needed respite from my spooky reading. Hallett presents the story through firsthand correspondence, offering insights into the lives and motivations of the Fairway Players members. I couldn't help but become engrossed in the petty drama that permeates this community theater organization, reminiscent of my own experiences with church music groups. Everyone is a volunteer, and everyone believes they're in charge. While the murder mystery itself may be somewhat ordinary, the vividly portrayed characters and their interpersonal conflicts make the narrative incredibly engaging. The added stress of the holiday season heightens the tension. The Christmas Appeal is a delightful and brisk read, offering an escape into the holiday spirit ahead of the bustling season.

For more information, visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads. 

(2023, 70)

"That’s what’s different about kids: they believe everything can happen, and fully expect it to."

When you were a child, what were you most afraid of? For me, it was costumed characters. Something about a giant mascot just horrified me beyond belief. In fact, I remember sitting in a grocery cart at a very young age, screaming at the top of my lungs as the Cheeto mascot tried to approach me. My poor Mom finally had to step in and politely ask him to stop following us so we could peacefully go about finishing our shopping. Thankfully, that irrational fear abated with age, but I still have a lingering nightmare involving a guy dressed in a duck costume that haunts me to this very day. As an adult, new things frighten me, things that are much more rational. Still, I find that nothing is as scary as things were when I was a kid. In his novel, The Troop author Nick Cutter, a pseudonym for Canadian author Craig Davidson, preys on our childhood fears by planting a troop of boy scouts directly into a nightmare scenario. 

Tim Riggs has been a scoutmaster for years. Today brings one of his favorite traditions, the yearly camping trip. Over the next three days, the boys will get to explore the wilderness, learn to live off of the land, and share ghost stories around the warmth of a bonfire. For their part, the five boys are eager to escape the real world for a few days. Each of them is on the cusp of manhood, so this outing serves as a potentially final adventure of boyhood. This year's outing takes the troop to an isolated island. The remoteness of this place is palpable. Yes, there are certain comforts like a cabin to sleep in, but the troop can't shake the sense that they truly are on their own. A feeling that will turn from welcome to dread very quickly. 

Not too far into their trip, the troop is interrupted by an intruder, a thin, rambling whither of a man. Tim was certain that the group would be alone on this island, uninterrupted by the outside world. But here this man stands, clearly not in his right mind, and voraciously hungry for any food in his vicinity. The man's hunger is ravenous, he quickly goes from consuming the food that the troop offered him to more unusual tastes. The boys and Tim are frightened by this encounter, unsure of how exactly to proceed and help this man. What they won't know until much later into the night is just how frightened they all should be. The unwanted visitor is the host to a horror more terrifying than anything they could have ever imagined. 

"It is a fact that cannot be denied: the wickedness of others becomes our own wickedness because it kindles something evil in our own hearts."

I love a book that scares me. I read so many books that it can be hard to find something that truly gets under my skin, but The Troop did just that. Nick Cutter has imagined a plot that is as shocking as it is gruesome. Perhaps more dangerous than the physical threats that the troop faces is that of their own emotions. Fear can't be quantified, yet it becomes the main driver of the horror in this book. Think The Lord of the Flies but much darker. Cutter doesn't hold back on giving us all the gory details. If you are even the slightest bit squeamish this book won't be for you. I'm a die-hard horror fan, and even I was shocked by some of the scenes in this book. Like all great horror authors, Cutter knows that none of the gore will land if the reader isn't heavily invested in the characters. He shifts perspective from character to character, giving us an intimate look into their lives and psyches. The masterful character work only adds to the terror that they encounter. This is the perfect read for Halloween and a book that will continue to haunt my nightmares long after I've put it away. 

For more information visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads.  

(2022, 47)

How do you choose your next read? I'm typically a mood reader. I choose whichever book strikes my fancy at any given moment. This strategy helps me from getting burned out on reading, but it also means that some books that I've agreed to review for publishers have to wait until I'm in the right mindset to read them. Yerba Buena by Nina LaCour is one such casualty. I received an ebook and audiobook of the novel well before it was published in May, but the queer coming-of-age story wasn't what I wanted to read then. I've been more about a quick-paced plot as of late, so thrillers have been my go-to read for the last couple of weeks. Still, I've found that books in that genre just aren't giving me the character development that I can latch on to.  So here I am, in the perfect mood to read a book like Yerba Buena. 

Sara is looking for an escape. She finally felt like she could accept herself when her secret girlfriend was found dead. Either unwilling or unable to cope with that loss at such a young age, Sara did what any enterprising teenager would do. She ran away from home. In her attempt to put the traumas of her past behind her, she encountered new ordeals that would haunt her into her future. All this is to say that Sara carried a lot of baggage as she entered adulthood. Years later she found a kind of safe haven and peace with her job as a bartender at the trendy restaurant Yerba Buena. It is here that her path would collide with Emilie, changing the trajectory of her life forever. 

Emilie is feeling stuck. She's been in college for seven years, cycling through five different majors only to feel as if she still hasn't found her path in life. Low on time, patience, and money, she randomly takes up a job with a flower shop. Emilie finds refuge in the task of floral arrangement, a process that allows her creativity to flourish while also earning her some much-needed money. As her obvious talent reveals itself, she is entrusted with arranging bouquets for different clients. One of these clients just so happens to be the restaurant Yerba Buena. 

Yerba Buena sees successful YA author Nina LaCour successfully transition to a work geared more for adult audiences. There are still echoes of her writing for younger readers, especially in moments that show the main characters before they are adults. In this case, that works to LaCour's benefit, imbuing the young characters with an authenticity that I was immediately able to connect with. The novel is as complex as the people who inhabit it, a work that tackles topics of sexuality, coming of age, and family trauma through layered scenarios, time periods, and relationships. This is a slow burn of a read. LaCour allows her story to unfold at a natural pace, freeing her characters and their emotions to dictate what comes next. This means that the characters, not the plot, drive the momentum of the novel. It was a bit of an adjustment for this seasoned thriller reader, but I was ultimately happy to have this change of pace. Yerba Buena works as an expertly written romance and coming-of-age story that brims with a purity that is rarely found in character-driven works. 

For more information visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads. 

(2021, 32)

They hid in a coat closet, the persistent pop, pop, pop ringing throughout the building. Six-year-old Zach looked to his fellow classmates and teacher for comfort, a sign that the terror they all felt would be short-lived. Zach found solace in his teacher. She clung to her students, silently praying they would make it out alive. In a few short minutes, the gunman who entered their elementary school took 19 lives. One of the children lost was Zach's older brother. 

In the aftermath, young Zach is left grappling with the ramifications of his brother's death. The elder Andy wasn't always kind to his younger sibling. Zach is feeling a mixture of sadness and a guilty relief that he won't have to be tormented by his brother again. His parents aren't emotionally available to help their grieving son. Zach's mother is out for revenge against the family of the shooter. His father can't look at Zach without breaking down. With no adult available to help him process his own state of mind, Zach retreats to his secret hideout in Andy's closet. From this safe space, he wills himself to be the agent of healing for himself, his family, and his community. 

I've struggled to put my reaction to this novel into words. As someone who has worked in schools for the better part of a decade and who has countless friends and family members who teach, I couldn't help but place myself into the horrors that Only Child grapples with. For better or worse, Rhiannon Navin has written a work that is as uniquely American as the tragedy she writes about. The entire narrative is told from the perspective of Zach, giving the reader a first-hand look into the life of a family in the aftermath of gun violence. I was reminded of Jack in Emma Donoghue's Room. As Donoghue did in that novel, Navin uses the innocence of her protagonist to explore the different ways that people deal with grief while also rooting her writing in a character that you can't help but attach to. The result is a novel that is as breathtakingly beautiful as it is heartbreaking. 

As I finished reading the novel, I couldn't help but reflect upon the recent school shooting in Uvalde, TX. I'm a lifelong Texan who grew up around and was taught a healthy respect for guns. That being said, I can't fathom that we have done nothing to stop heinous massacres like this from happening. There are no more excuses. We have to find a way to stop these senseless acts of violence. I don't pretend to have all the answers, though I do think that common-sense firearm legislation and a more comprehensive strategy around mental health in our country would be as good a place as any to begin. I'm certain that in a nation as wealthy and industrious as the United States, there is simply no reason we can't work to solve this problem. Books like Only Child serve to show the devastation that will continue to happen if we do nothing. 

For more information visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads. 

(2022, 26)

"In heaven, the great God will judge me, but here on earth I must leave it to you."

This time of the year, I'm craving any and everything that puts me in the holiday spirit. Christmas was a much more subdued affair last year due to the ongoing pandemic, but this year (thanks in large part to vaccinations) I'm making up for the lost time. The house is fully decorated, I've made Christmas cookies, cocktails, and I've finished with all of my holiday shopping. As I settle into the season and try to embrace the spirit of this time as much as possible, I've been drawn to reading books that do the same. Enter Andrew Klavan's novella When Christmas Comes, a holiday-themed mystery that seemed like just the book to bring the festivities into my reading. 

The setup is simple enough. A local teacher has been murdered and her boyfriend has confessed to the crime. The only problem is that no one wants to believe that he is the culprit. You see, he is a decorated soldier who the entire town has embraced as a hero, a symbol of the best things to come out of the city. Moreso, the couple seemed to have had the perfect relationship. Something simply isn't adding up. The town's authorities seem hesitant to investigate the crime, especially when all the evidence points to someone they revere. It is up to Cameron Winter, an English professor of all things, to step in and ensure that justice is served. As he takes on the unenviable task of investigating a war hero, he must also face the demons of his past. 

Some of the best Christmas stories have seeped in the things that haunt us. From Krampus to Dicken's ghosts, connecting with the spirit of the holiday often requires us to face the things that we fear. Klavan draws on this literary tradition by haunting his own characters. Each person we encounter in the short work is grappling with the implications of their pasts while working to embrace a brighter future. The mystery at the center of the narrative helps to drive the plot through each of the character beats, never letting the pace slow. The writing is at times a bit saccharine, a characteristic that I'd normally scoff at. Here, amongst the idyllic setting and Christmas theme, it gets a pass. When Christmas Comes concludes with an emotional swell that delivers on each of the moments that precede it while promising more for the characters even beyond the final page. 

For more information visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads. 

(2021, 51)

Sometimes it is best to go into a book blind. I won a copy of Shanora Williams's latest novel The Perfect Ruin in a Goodreads giveaway that I didn't remember entering. (Please tell me I'm not the only one to have done this!) I didn't even recall reading a blurb about the book, so I had zero expectations about what it would be. It turns out that knowing nothing was the perfect way to approach this novel. Williams shrouds much of the motivations of the first part of her book in mystery, so coming in with no preconceived notions about what the story is really worked to my advantage. 

Ivy has spent years in therapy recovering from the trauma of her childhood. When we first meet her, we don't know exactly what that trauma is, and it isn't clear why she has faced such a long period of recovery. What we do know is this. Ivy's therapist has just revealed the name of a person who is responsible for much of her troubles. Armed with this new information, Ivy has vowed to get revenge. To reveal any more of the plot would rob you of the discovery that makes reading the novel as much fun as it is. Suffice it to say that each of the characters keeps their secrets close and their enemies even closer. 

The Perfect Ruin reads a lot like one of those made for T.V. melodramas where every character has a secret and each reveal becomes more shocking and outlandish than the last. That's not a knock on the quality of writing by any means. In fact, each layer of the plot in this one kept me turning the pages waiting to see what crazy thing would happen next. I do think, however, that reading this book will require you to suspend your disbelief to fully enjoy it. Many scenes reminded me of classic prime-time soap operas like Desperate Housewives or Dallas. It is a credit to Williams that I found myself caring about the characters in this one, especially as they acted from mostly selfish motivations. The ending of the book did crescendo to one too many twists for my tastes, but it was all in good fun and in keeping with the momentum that drove everything before it. The Perfect Ruin is the best kind of popcorn read, an entertaining page-turner that never takes itself too seriously. 

For more information, visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads. 

(2021, 38)

"All creatures know love, Dad used to say. All creatures."

I have a vivid memory of walking through the wooded trail of my college campus late one night. I had just finished my final class for the evening and was making my way across the campus to the parking garage where I had parked early that same morning. It had been a long day, and I was exhausted. Instead of taking the usual paved path that was the quickest means to traversing the campus, I decided to take the back way, a winding gravel trail clouded by a canopy of mature trees. The moon shone just bright enough to illuminate the path before me, peaking through the leaves above. I walked this trail, taking in the quiet and reflecting on my day. Just before the end of the path, I spotted the shadowed form of what appeared to be a dog. As I cautiously moved forward, I realized that the creature ahead was a coyote. The animal and I locked eyes for a moment. I didn't dare to make any sudden moves. We just stood there, taking each other in. After that brief moment of recognition, the coyote moved off of the path and went about its way into the brush. 

As I listened to Charlotte McConaghy's latest novel Once There Were Wolves, I was reminded of that long-forgotten memory from many years ago. There is a power in our recognition of and existence with nature, the magic of sorts that McConaghy captures in her work. Our experience, the love, and loss that we each face during our lifetime are uniquely intertwined within the larger world we inhabit. It is from that interplay between man and nature that McConaghy begins to form her story.

The novel centers on the story of Inti, a biologist whose team has just introduced a pack of wolves into the Scottish Highlands. She hopes that in bringing the animals to the area that they haven't inhabited for hundreds of years, the pack will grow and become a beacon of hope for the survival of the species. Her arrival is not without its detractors. The local farmers and sheepherders are up in arms about the introduction of potential predators into the area. Despite her best efforts to reassure them with evidence from similar successful programs in Yellowstone National Park, Inti fears the farmers will take to killing the animals. 

The wolves aren't the only thing that brought Inti to the area. She has traveled with her sister Aggie, a woman who has known her own share of trauma. McConaghy hints at an event that occurred in the last place the sisters lived that drove them to move away, an ordeal that will slowly be revealed as the story progresses. Aggie is withdrawn, a shadow of her former self. Just as Inti intends to rehabilitate the population of wolves, so must she rebuild the relationship with her sister. As the two rescue missions ensue, Inti will be challenged to overcome both the political and personal ramifications of her undertaking. 

To reveal too much about the novel's plot points would rob you of the narrative wizardry that McConaghy achieves. Suffice it to say, Once There Were Wolves is the kind of read that is best experienced with as little preconception as possible. I chose to listen to the audio version of the book and was instantly drawn in by the combination of Saskia Maarleveld's gentle narration and McConaghy's captivating plot. The vastness of the landscapes and sheer scope of monitoring a pack of wolves is juxtaposed with the more internalized conflicts that the characters face. McConaghy writes with a quiet sureness that gives even the simplest moments a sense of gravity and enchantment. Once There Were Wolves asks us to reflect upon our own relationship to the natural world, and more importantly, to the relationships that we foster within it. 

For more information visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads. 

(2021, 28)

There's power in the idea of a place. Think about it for a second. Things inevitably change, people come and go, but a place can remain. Within a single place, be it a home, a city, a state, different people will have different experiences. Even the same person can experience varying events in that one place. In her debut novel, Idaho, author Emily Ruskovich examines the possibility within her own imagined version of the state. Through a non-linear narrative surrounding an intimate group of characters, Ruskovich invites her readers to experience the love, sorrow, hope, and despair that all traverses a single place. 

Wade and Jenny's move to Idaho was one built on the promise of deepening their life together, and for the most part, that's exactly what the couple did. They began to raise their two daughters May and June amongst the mountainous landscape. Life was never easy, but together they were getting through it. Then one day, the joy of their life together was abandoned for pure tragedy. The family was forever changed by this instance, never to be fully together again. From this moment, the threads of Ruckovich's tale spread, delving into the lives of the characters before and after. 

Ann's move to Idaho from her native Europe brings hope of opportunity. As a music teacher, she revels in connecting her students with her passion for the arts. It is at the school that she first meets Wade, the parent to a student she's having to discipline. There is sorrow behind Wade's eyes. After their first meeting, Ann meets with Wade again. He soon reveals that he's been diagnosed with dementia, a condition passed on to him by his father. From there, the pair begin to form a relationship. First, it is simply the relationship between a piano teacher and her unconventional student, a man fighting to hold on to whatever scraps of memory remain. Soon it blossoms into something much deeper, a relationship that moves them to love in ways they never imagined but also one in which they encounter challenges neither of them could have foreseen. 

This is a slow, contemplative read. Rusckovich seems more concerned with the emotional introspections of her characters than building any kind of propulsive plot. While jumbling the timeline of the narrative gives way for a variety of emotional moments, it does little to maintain any sort of narrative cohesion. Several times I found myself uncertain of where I was in the book, confused about exactly which part in the character's life I was reading. I kept waiting for the separate threads of the book to come together into some sort of revelatory whole. Alas, no such conclusion occurred. My qualms with the non-linear structure of the novel aside, there is no denying the deliberate approach that Ruskovich takes with her characters. Idaho reads as a kind of tone poem. At its heart, it is a quiet exploration of the characters and emotions that they experience through this singular place. Ruskovich's ability to craft layered characters through her subtly nuanced writing is the real strength of this novel. To that end, Idaho is a fascinating, if not a bit frustrating, read. 

For more information visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads. 

(2021, 16)

Over a year into the pandemic, things seem like they may finally be getting back to normal. I've been working from home since March of last year, but I recently learned that I'll finally be returning at the end of this month. Last weekend, I traveled out of town for a wedding. Yes, the wedding was outside and masks and social distancing were practiced, but it was nice to have some sense of normalcy after a year that has been anything but. Like many of you, I've turned to reading to help me cope with the stresses of the pandemic, escaping into fictional worlds and exploring many new authors and genres along the way. Imbolo Mbue has been on my radar ever since her debut novel Behold the Dreamers garnered rave reviews. While I never got around to reading that one, I was happy to accept her sophomore effort How Beautiful We Were to review. 

Mbue sets her novel in the fictional African village of Kosawa, a place that is rich in culture and heritage. The people there are intimately connected to the land, hunting, farming, and raising generations of families on it. Although the people of Kosawa hold a deep respect for their village, the same can't be said of the dictatorship that oversees it. The government has partnered with American oil company Pexton, allowing the corporation to mine the village of its resources with no oversight. While this partnership greatly benefits both parties, the people of Kosawa aren't reaping any rewards. Pexton is poisoning their land and killing their children. Even boiling the water has little effect on reversing the effects of Pexton's practices. The young people of the village continue to fall ill. Many of them die. Worse, there seems to be no end in sight. 

With such a dire situation in front of them, the people of Kosawa seem stuck. Pexton sends representatives to speak with them from time to time, and they voice their concerns. Pexton reassures them that they are looking into the claims of poisoning and will work with the government to find a solution. But nothing ever comes from these talks. Finally, at one of these meetings, enough is enough. Resistance begins in the unlikely form of the village fool, a man most would ignore on any other day. He takes the Pexton suits hostage, promising their release only once a resolution is reached. Thus begins the multigenerational battle between government-sanctioned big oil and the small village. 

How Beautiful We Were sees Imbolo Mbue transport her readers to a quaint village in the middle of rural Africa. She tells her David vs. Goliath story through the people at the center of it, the villagers embroiled in the fight for their land and their health, and the children who are slowly succumbing to the polluted land they are being raised on. The narrative comes together through the shifting perspectives of the various characters, casting a wide net on the village and connecting the reader to the global impact of the conflict through the most intimate lens. As in real life, this story plays out over several decades, leaving some hopeful, others jilted, and even more ready for a revolution. There's a vast scope to this novel, and Mbue deftly touches upon the personal, political, and environmental impact of the situation by leaning into her characters with a careful sense of duty to the story and the people. While I found the writing to be brilliantly descriptive and engaging, I was a bit disappointed in the ending of the novel. With such a sweeping journey throughout, I didn't feel the story reached a conclusion that adequately encapsulated everything that came before. Perhaps that is the way these things end though. Wars are waged and generations of lives are altered over natural resources. In the end, I'm not sure we can really look back and say that sum is worth the parts. 

For more information visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads. 

(2021, 13)

 “They can break, but they can't erase. They can build but they can't bury us.”

When you think of home, what comes to mind? For me, home is the place where I grew up. It is the house that I shared with my parents and brothers for the majority of my life. It is the neighbors who watched me grow up. Home is the community that I was a part of, the schools,  the church, that corner gas station that everyone stopped at on their way to and from work, the restaurant where you'd always run into someone you knew. Over the years, my home changed. I moved away and started a life of my own, and the place from my memory kept evolving without me. What I remember as empty fields by my house have turned into sprawling subdivisions. There are stoplights where a humble stop sign once sat. And of course, the people have changed too. The home of my memory is just that, a memory of a time and place that I once knew. In her novel When No One is Watching, author Alyssa Cole explores the evolution of home in a thriller that is as thoughtful as it is suspenseful. 

The only home Sydney Green has ever known is Brooklyn. She's taken an active role in her community, especially as her mother became unable to do so. Sydney visits with her neighbors, most of whom she's grown up around, and even oversees the community garden. But the home she's known and loves is facing unprecedented change. The gentrification of her community is unfolding before Sydney's very eyes. High-rise condos are filling vacant lots, and many of her longtime neighbors have sold out and moved away without even a goodbye. Try as she might, it seems like Sydney can do little to save her home. 

Theo is struggling to settle into his new home. The Brooklyn neighborhood that he recently moved to with his girlfriend has potential, but there's still a long way to go before it will really feel like home. The neighborhood is split between the well-off white families who are buying up property in droves and the black families who are just trying to hang onto what little piece of the neighborhood that they have left. People like Theo's girlfriend certainly don't help matters. She seems to think that the world and everyone in it revolve around her, the living embodiment of privilege. Theo, on the other hand, is bound and determined to actually get to know his neighbors. He makes his way to a neighborhood meeting and is surprised to find that he's the only white person there. Despite their differences though, Theo and his neighbors (Sydney included) have something in common. They're each harboring nefarious secrets, and these secrets are all about to come to light. 

Alyssa Cole strikes the perfect balance between social commentary and paranoid thriller with When No One is Watching. The novel begins as a fairly straightforward story of two people coming to terms with their role in the gentrification of a community. Both of the main characters read as genuine portrayals of how people would react to their situations. Sydney is clinging to her past and her history while Theo is trying to make the place his own. By bringing the two together, Cole allows her readers to discover contrasting perspectives in a way that is both timely and thoughtful. It seems that Americans are finally getting more comfortable talking about race and privilege, and fiction like this helps us to continue that conversation in the real world. 

Intermixed with these more serious subjects is a thriller aspect that sees quiet coincidences bloom into shocking revelations. In the hands of a lesser author, the juxtaposition between these drastically different elements could be jarring, but Cole writes them with an ease that allowed even this seasoned thriller reader to suspend disbelief and fall under the spell of her words. I've found myself thinking less about the conclusion of this story than the ideas presented before it, but I can't deny that Cole has packaged a nuanced commentary about race relations in America into a story that is compulsively readable. When No One is Watching is a thought-provoking page-turner, the kind of book that simply demands to be read. The themes in Cole's book continue a conversation that is vital to bringing empathy, understanding, and ultimately unity, all things that remind me of what it takes to turn a community into a home. 

For more information visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads. 

(2021, 9)

Winter has officially arrived in my part of the world. We usually expect to have at least some colder weather, but the ice and snow that blew in last night was an unusual sight for south Texas. All traces of yesterday's weather have already melted into the ground, leaving only a shocked landscape of wilted greenery that wasn't ready for the out-of-character frost. Inside I was busy reading the newest short story from author Jeremy Ray. I thoroughly enjoyed his novella The Gatherings, so I was happy to accept the gift of his latest effort The House Plant to review. Surrounded by my own collection of potted greenery, I settled in to read Ray's imaginative new offering.

George is trapped, an unwilling prisoner who refuses to accept his fate. Brenda brought him into the home against his will, leaving him devoid of the social interaction that made him thrive. Even worse, Brenda isn't exactly the best caretaker. Poor George is dying of thirst, unable to get enough to satisfy his needs, malnourished, and losing his will to live. He longs to escape this prison. He longs to breathe in the fresh air and to mingle with his own kind. Such is the miserable life of a lonely house plant. 

Soon, George's luck begins to change. Brenda learns to water her fern, and George begins to flourish. He grows with abandon and looks forward to his daily interactions with the woman who brought him into her home. Brenda becomes obsessed with her little plant, bragging about him to her friends and reminiscing about the day she decided to bring George home. Then one day, things change. George's way of life vanishes in an instant. Can things go back to the way they were, or will this plant have to adapt to a new way of life all over?

In The House Plant, author Jeremy Ray packs a cleverly imaginative and emotionally engaging story into the efficiently small package of a short story. At first, I wasn't sure how giving thoughts to a plant would play out, but by the end, I was completely invested in the character and his story. Anyone who has tended to plants can probably relate to the challenge of caring for them and the joy they can bring into our daily lives. Turning the plant into the main character of this work provided a fun twist to an otherwise fairly straightforward narrative. With this story, Jeremy Ray has proved his versatility as an author and his ability to surprise and delight with his writing. I'll happily read whatever he comes up with next. 

For more information visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads. 

(2021, 2)

"One minute there was a God with the whole world in his hands; the next minute the world was plummeting, ceaselessly, toward an ever-shifting bottom."

With this unprecedented year quickly coming to a close, I've got just a few more weeks to tackle my 2020 reading list and achieve my goal of reading a book a week. I've been not so patiently waiting to read Yaa Gyasi's Transcendent Kingdom pretty much from the moment I closed the cover on her stunning debut Homegoing. I was left astounded at the way Gyasi brilliantly captured the enormous scope of systemic racism across the timeline of American history while maintaining a relatively small page count. The depth of emotion that she presented in 300 pages was masterful. This new novel clocks in at an even shorter page count but still delivers all of the emotional heft of a much larger work. 

Gifty is in the 6th year of her doctorate studies at Stanford, working diligently each day to understand the inner workings of neurological processes. Specifically, her science deals with the tragic cycle of addiction and the emotional trauma it leaves in its wake. She watches as the mice navigate her experiment, getting their fix from a chemical concoction that keeps them coming back for more. Gifty sees the agony of the mice who are denied this drug. She sees the depression set in, the will to live diminishes, and the sheer desperation that fills the poor creatures. But these mice are mere pawns in a science project. For Gifty, the realities of addiction and depression hit much closer to home. 

Gifty and her family moved from Ghana to Huntsville, Alabama when she was just a small child. Her father quickly left the family to start a new one, and her mother sought solace in the only place that was available to her, the evangelical southern church. With one parent out of the picture and the other too worried about protecting the soul of her family to have a real conversation with her children, Gifty and her older brother Nana formed an inseparable bond. The two could turn to each other no matter what. That is, they could until Nana injured himself on the basketball court. The rising star soon became dependent on prescription drugs, and the family was never the same. 

Transcendent Kingdom sees Yaa Gyasi juxtapose science and religion through a grounded story about a family and their struggle to find their place in the world. There's no narrative gymnastics in this one. Gyasi deftly keeps her story small in scope, remaining intentional in the way she reveals the trauma of her characters. Her main character Gifty is a young woman caught between devotion to caring for her family and a desire to make more of her own life and become her own person. She longs to move on and make her mark on the world but is constantly held back by her past. She is simply unable to tend to one without neglecting the other. Gyasi has written a novel that is classical in its modernity, a story that is both of this time and transcendent of any particular moment in time. This family, these words, all come together to form one truly Transcendent Kingdom. 

For more information visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads. 

(2020, 49)

After reading two dark horror novels in a row, I was longing for something lighter to read. Don't get me wrong, I love diving into books that challenge and shock me, but there are times when I just want to read for the pure escapism of it all. Enter Meg Mitchell Moore's latest novel Two Truths and a Lie. I was pleasantly surprised to see this one arrive on my doorstep. It was included with a few others sent to me from the publisher in exchange for a review. From the cover, I wouldn't have picked this one as something I'd normally read. Still, comparisons to Big Little Lies and books by Elin Hilderbrand were more than enough to pique my interest.

The small seaside town of Newburyport, Massachusetts is the perfect place for starting over. Newcomer Sherri Griffin is hoping to do just that. She's recently divorced her husband, gained sole custody of their teenage daughter Katie and is ready to move on with her life. Sherri soon comes into contact with the Mom Squad, a group of local women who have their finger in every aspect of the Town, professionally and socially. To the shock of the other moms, the squad's former head Rebecca welcomes Sherri into their ranks. The pair bond over a common sense of misfortune. You see, Rebecca was widowed not too long ago, so she knows a thing or two about starting over.

Beyond learning about the mothers, Moore equally devotes pages to the story of their daughters. Rebecca's daughter Alexa is the pinnacle of popularity at the local high school. She has combined her gorgeous looks and natural knack at deciphering financial information into a successful YouTube channel. At the urging of her mother, Alexa agrees to babysit Sherri's eleven-year-old Katie. With Katie fast asleep, Alexa turns to snooping around the Griffin's home. She stumbles upon a composition notebook filled with Katie's writing. There's the usual stuff, of course, but Alexa is shocked when she finds information about Katie's past. The past has a funny way of catching up with the present. Armed with the dark knowledge of the Griffin's past, Alexa struggles to keep these secrets to herself. Worse, that dark past is threatening to invade the present, endangering everyone who stands in its way.

Going into Two Truths and a Lie I was really in the mood for juicy drama mixed with light thrills, and that's exactly what Meg Mitchell Moore delivered. This is the kind of breezy summer read that provides just enough depth to sink your teeth into without becoming overwhelming. Comparisons to Elin Hilderbrand's summer novels are the most appropriate, though I don't think I enjoyed Moore's characters in the same way. Their past hardships were enough to motivate their actions, but not enough to excuse some of the cattier confrontations. The mystery element serves more to keep the plot moving than to shock or thill in the traditional sense. Instead, Two Truths and a Lie spends most of its time fleshing out the characters. While I had a few qualms about the way some of these women acted, I did find the mother-daughter relationships to be the most believable part of the book. Either way, Two Truths and a Lie never tries to be anything more than a diversional summer read. It is the kind of escapist story that more than satisfied my need for something different and something that I could read on a summer afternoon. If you are looking to lose yourself in a story while soaking up the summer sun, Two Truths and a Lie by Meg Mitchell Moore should more than suffice.

For more information visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads.
(2020, 31)