A Book A Week

How would you respond in a true emergency? We like to believe we’d stay calm under pressure, making logical decisions to protect ourselves and the people we love. I think about all the times I’ve watched a movie and yelled at the screen as a character makes a choice that only worsens their situation. It’s easy to say, “Just don’t do that!” But the truth is, none of us really knows how we’d react when fear takes hold.

In Seek Immediate Shelter, Vincent Yu explores exactly that question through the lens of a small community suddenly thrown into crisis.

It begins with a phone alert that everyone in town receives at the exact same moment:

BALLISTIC MISSILE THREAT INBOUND. SEEK IMMEDIATE SHELTER. THIS IS NOT A DRILL.

Instantly, lives fracture into panic and instinct. David decides the safest place for his wife and baby is his parents’ basement. But in his desperation to flee, he peels out of the driveway before his family can even get into the car, crashing through the still-opening garage door. Nina uses what she believes are her final moments to send a text to her estranged daughter—the kind of message that can never be taken back. Russ squeezes his family into a bathtub, fully prepared to sacrifice himself because there simply isn’t enough room for everyone.

And then, just as suddenly, another alert arrives:

FALSE ALARM. PLEASE DISREGARD. ALL CLEAR.

In the aftermath, these characters are left to confront the reality of how they behaved when they thought the end had come.

Seek Immediate Shelter reads like a collection of interconnected short stories, with each chapter centering on a different character and their life in relation to the missile threat. In some chapters, Vincent Yu directly explores the fallout of how these individuals responded in the moment of crisis. In others, he broadens the lens, showing how the lives they lived beforehand shaped those reactions long before the alert ever arrived.

Though many of the characters never directly interact, they remain bound together by this shared event. Naturally, the episodic structure meant I connected more strongly with some perspectives than others, and as the pattern emerged, I worried the format might begin to feel repetitive. Thankfully, Yu continually finds ways to expand and play with the structure, exploring years before and after the false alarm and using those timelines to examine family bonds, betrayal, forgiveness, regret, and reconciliation.

What emerges is less a story about a missile threat and more a meditation on the moments that define us. It’s the kind of novel that turns the mirror back on the reader, asking not only how we might react in a crisis, but how our lives and relationships have already shaped the people we would become in that moment.

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

(2026, 28)

Adora Hazzard has life figured out. Or at least, she believes she does. A philosopher and devoted follower of Stoicism, Adora has built her entire worldview around the idea that happiness comes from wanting only what you already possess. And so she finds fulfillment in the life she’s carefully constructed, raising her teenage daughter, avoiding the complications of romance, and working as a moral tutor for the twin sons of an old-money Manhattan family.

She’s even devised a practical—if slightly eccentric—plan for aging comfortably in her Upper West Side apartment. Together with a group of like-minded women, she’s formed a sort of communal “coven,” built on the idea of sharing resources and looking after one another. After all, who really needs an entire loaf of bread to themselves?

But as Adora is about to learn, life rarely respects our carefully curated philosophies.

A chance encounter with a handsome stranger at the ballet sends her carefully ordered existence spiraling in an entirely new direction. For the first time in decades, Adora allows herself to feel something she’s long kept at arm’s length: desire. And once that door opens, there’s no closing it. Soon, she finds herself swept into black-market art deals, secret rendezvous, and international intrigue—all while reckoning with the traumas of her past and confronting the possibility that happiness might require wanting more after all.

It’s been a decade since Maria Semple last released a novel. While I loved her 2012 novel Where’d You Go, Bernadette, her follow-up, Today Will Be Different, left me wanting something more. So when I heard she had a new novel, Go Gentle, coming out, I decided to wait and see how readers responded before diving in myself. Thankfully, it seems the time away served Semple well. Heck, the book was even selected for Oprah's Book Club—high praise if there ever was any.

In the hands of almost any other author, Go Gentle would feel completely absurd. But Semple has a gift for grounding her madcap plots in characters who feel emotionally authentic and deeply human. At first, the novel seems poised to be a fairly straightforward, unexpected romance story. But a pivotal flashback in Part III reframes everything we think we know about Adora and the life she lived before becoming the woman we meet at the novel’s opening.

It’s a dark section of the story, and content warnings for emotional and sexual abuse are absolutely warranted, but it also provides crucial context for why Stoicism became such a central pillar of Adora’s identity. From there, the novel becomes something more powerful. It's a story about reclaiming your voice and pursuing happiness after years of denying it.

Yes, the road to get there is chaotic and often delightfully over-the-top, but that’s part of the charm. Semple asks us to grapple with whether a life spent avoiding desire is really a life fully lived at all. In the end, Go Gentle is a celebration of second chances and the courage it takes to finally choose yourself.

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

(2026, 37)

At the ripe age of seventy-seven, Pepper Mills is facing what’s supposed to be her final move. After a minor car accident—one that ends with a priest confiscating her driver’s license and snipping it into pieces—her children decide it’s time for her to relocate to Vista View, a retirement community in Austin, Texas. Pepper has plenty of reasons to resist, chief among them the fact that her ex-husband (and father of her children) already lives there. Still, she chooses not to fight it. It’s easier this way.

As she settles in, Pepper begrudgingly begins to make connections. To her surprise, she finds a sense of community, and even more unexpectedly, the possibility of romance. At seventy-seven, she didn’t think she’d feel giddy about a man again, but life clearly has other plans.

And those plans are just getting started.

Pepper begins to feel unwell—exhausted, nauseated, and increasingly forgetful. At first, she blames the food, but no one else seems affected. As her symptoms worsen, her family braces for the worst: dementia, cancer, something irreversible. But after a battery of tests, the diagnosis is something no one could have predicted.

At seventy-seven years old, Pepper Mills is pregnant.

Enormous Wings takes its title from Gabriel García Márquez’s short story A Very Old Man with Enormous Wings, a tale in which a literal angel is treated as a spectacle rather than something sacred. It’s fitting, then, that Laurie Frankel draws a similar thread in her own work. Here, magical realism becomes a lens through which Frankel explores aging, mortality, bodily autonomy, and motherhood.

What comes to mind when you think of the word sanctuary? In a world filled with constant noise—politics, work, even the demands of family—having a place to retreat can feel more essential than ever.

This spring, I set out to create that space for myself. I went into my backyard and started digging. Weeks were spent pulling up roots (so many roots), turning over the soil, adding nutrients, planting, edging, and mulching. Slowly, a flowerbed stretching nearly 100 feet along my back fence began to take shape. And at the center of it all, I placed a simple bench, positioned just right to take in the birdbath and the blooms.

Piece by piece, I had built my own small sanctuary.

In her novel, These Silent Woods, Kimi Cunningham Grant tells the story of a war veteran who has carved out his own fragile sanctuary deep in the Appalachian Mountains. Cooper, as he’s known, lives in a remote cabin with his young daughter, Finch. Their life is simple—no electricity, no running water—but it’s one they’ve made their own.

Finch spends her days reading from the books that line the cabin walls, learning from the classics while also being taught how to survive in the wilderness. But as any child would, she has questions. What happened to her mother? Why do they live so cut off from the world? The answers exist, of course, but Cooper isn’t ready to give them. For him, it’s easier to protect the quiet life he’s built than to risk unraveling it with the truth.

Only two people know they live there. One is a reclusive mountain hermit who keeps a distant, watchful eye on Cooper and Finch. The other is Jake, Cooper’s former army buddy and the owner of the cabin, who visits once a year with the supplies they need to survive.

But this year, Jake didn’t come.

His absence sets off a chain of events that threatens the fragile life Cooper has built. As the walls of his carefully guarded sanctuary begin to close in, Cooper is forced to confront a question he’s long avoided. Can he keep hiding, or will he finally have to reckon with the past he’s been running from?

There’s a rich sense of atmosphere and place that runs through These Silent Woods. Kimi Cunningham Grant transports readers to the Appalachian Mountains, immersing us in the stark isolation of Cooper’s chosen refuge. His calm, measured demeanor contrasts beautifully with Finch’s bright curiosity, creating a dynamic that feels both tender and uncertain—you can sense he’s doing his best, even as he struggles to fully step into the role of father.

That character work is balanced by a steadily tightening sense of tension as the story unfolds. What begins as introspective and contemplative gradually gives way to something more urgent, pulling the reader deeper into the narrative. The result is a novel rich in character, steeped in atmosphere, and anchored by a story that softly grips you from start to finish. It reminds us how important it can be to carve out a place of peace, even if it can’t last forever.

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

(2026, 35)

Like many readers, I first became aware of TJ Klune through his novel The House in the Cerulean Sea. That book, and its equally fantastic follow-up, showcased Klune’s ability to explore imaginative fantasy worlds through grounded characters, all while thoughtfully examining themes of found family and the persecution of the LGBTQ+ community. He has a gift for balancing heavy subject matter with warmth, humor, and heart. I became an instant fan. So when I had the opportunity to read his newest release, the adult novel We Burned So Bright, I knew I was in for something special.

What would you do if you knew it was the end of the world?

Don and Rodney have spent the last forty years building a life together—devoted partners who have grown old side by side, even marrying once it finally became legal. They always imagined a future together, but not one that ends like this.

A black hole is tearing through the solar system, swallowing planets in its path and heading straight for Earth. There’s no stopping it. No escaping it. The end is certain.

With that reality looming, Don and Rodney leave the comfort of their home in Maine and set out on a final journey west. There’s one last promise they need to keep before everything is gone.

As they cross the country, they encounter others grappling with the end in their own ways—some with compassion and grace, others with fear and cruelty. But no matter what they face along the way, Don and Rodney remain determined to reach their destination before time runs out.

We Burned So Bright sees TJ Klune step away from his more fantastical storytelling in favor of something quieter and more introspective. Here, he explores the depths of humanity—how we connect, the impact we have on one another, and the choices we make when faced with the inevitable.

At first, I was a bit taken aback by just how inward-looking the novel is. Plot-wise, not much happens, but the emotional journey is where the story truly unfolds. This is a novel rooted in reflection, one that asks readers to consider our place in the world and the legacy we leave behind. More than anything, it highlights the enduring power of commitment, community, and the shared experience of navigating life’s highs and lows. There are moments where Klune’s message leans a bit too overt, but for the most part, its sincerity carries through. It’s a contemplative, quietly powerful story that will leave you in deep reflection even after you finish reading. 

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

(2026, 34)

Before I dive into just how much I enjoyed the film adaptation of Project Hail Mary, based on Andy Weir’s novel, I have a bit of a confession. I didn’t love the book. Sure, it was entertaining—a fast-paced, inventive spin on a buddy story—but I found parts of it stretched my suspension of disbelief a bit too far. I had fun with it, but it didn’t land anywhere near my favorite reads of the year.

That said, late last year, some coworkers started a buddy read of the novel in anticipation of the film, and they absolutely loved it. Experiencing their enthusiasm made me reconsider my own take. So earlier this week, I made my way back to the theater—something I admittedly don’t do as often these days—and gave the story another shot on the big screen. From the moment Daniel Pemberton’s score swelled over ethereal, pulsing visuals, I was pulled into this world in a way I never quite was with the book.

We first meet Ryan Gosling’s Ryland Grace as he emerges from a plastic cocoon, disheveled and disoriented, hooked up to wires and monitors. We know as little as he does. Who is he? Where is he? As he stumbles through the spacecraft, searching for answers, he discovers two other pods—both occupants dead. When he finally looks out a window and sees the endless black of space, the truth hits. He’s alone and adrift among the stars.

Like the novel, the film intercuts this mystery with flashbacks, slowly revealing Grace’s past as a scientist-turned-middle-school teacher whose once-dismissed research may hold the key to saving Earth. A mysterious organism is consuming the sun, and humanity is running out of time. Grace, against all odds, may be the one person who can stop it.

One of the film’s most surprising choices is how openly it embraces one of the book’s biggest twists: Grace’s encounter with an alien lifeform. Rather than treating it as a reveal, the film leans into the relationship that develops. Co-directors Phil Lord and Christopher Miller bring the character of Rocky to life through the work of James Ortiz, who creates, performs, and voices the rock-like alien. What unfolds between Gosling and Ortiz is unexpectedly moving—a story of two beings from different worlds, united by a shared mission and an even deeper need for connection.

The result is a film that balances action, humor, suspense, and genuine heart. I found myself fully invested this time around, riding every emotional high and low as the story built toward a conclusion that feels both optimistic and earned. It’s rare for an adaptation to elevate its source material in this way, but for me, Project Hail Mary did exactly that. It's a must-see film that transformed a story I merely liked into one I truly loved.