Beautiful and brilliant. I read the first edition hard cover, but have heard from multiple sources that the audiobook read by Tom Hanks is wonderful. This may be the warmest novel Patchett has ever written, a fairy tale of family, wealth, loss and longing, but with characters who feel entirely human and specific and real.
A good entry point into anti-racism for white people—particularly upper middle class white people, who have managed to remain clueless about systemic racism and might identify with Irving’s awakening. I saw Irving speak here in Nashville after reading the book, and was really impressed with her approach to racial justice education.
A must read. This small volume packs a big historical punch (in the gut), reminding us of the history we seem hell bent on repeating. Whether Trump is a fascist tyrant or the dimwitted puppet of fascist tyrants, it’s high time we open our eyes and protect ourselves and each other.
You’ll either dig Patti Smith’s writing or you won’t. I dig it. My introduction to Smith was Just Kids, her memoir of young adulthood (for which she won The National Book Award). M Train is a looser, more meandering set of reflections, dreamy and poetic. Also worth noting is the sheer beauty of the physical paperback edition, which is heaven to touch and hold.
I love Gretchen Rubin. I love her writing and her podcast (Happier with Gretchen Rubin). The Four Tendencies is an excellent framework for understanding how people respond to internal and external expectations. As an Upholder, I respond readily to internal and external expectations and can be both incredibly reliable and annoying as fuck to those who don’t share my tendency. I did a quick presentation about the Four Tendencies for our account service team at work, which consists (unsurprisingly) almost entirely of Obligers. If you’re curious about your tendency, you can take the Four Tendencies Quiz here. The book is a quick read if you want to learn more.
This memoir was selected by our Directors Club at work. We meet once a month to talk about business, leadership, management, etc. I usually find business books kind of annoying and formulaic, but I got a kick out of Hadeed’s story. She built a cleaning business, “Student Maid,” with college students as employees, when she was still a college student herself. There are some great lessons here—many of htem learned the hard way—and they’re delivered in Hadeed’s funny, authentic voice. She also confirms one thing I’ve always believed to be true: company culture is everything; and a company’s values are what hold the culture up. You can make a lot of sacrifices, but when you go against your values, it’s game over.
This book of essays has gotten a lot of buzz and deservedly so. Mary Laura Philpott is an endearingly witty narrator of her own Type-A psyche. From studying for the grade school spelling bee to periodic fainting spells, to her lack of an inner compass (an affliction I share)—to the weightier topics of aging and longing and who-the-hell-am-I-and-what-am-I-doing-here, these essays mark a journey into middle-age-dom. Wise enough to cop to the first-world nature of her problems, and incisive enough to convey the universal themes thrumming underneath them, Philpott is a delightful narrator. (She also has a very pleasant reading voice, so the audiobook is a good listen.)
Sweet and fun, this prequel to The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe was a trip down memory lane (though I still prefer the latter).
One of the best books I’ve ever read. The most beautifully drawn characters, the most psychologically intricate storytelling. Themes of art, trust, history, sexuality, friendship, family, relationships, agency, loss and the meaning of life. Depth upon depth upon depth. I am astounded that everyone isn’t talking about this masterpiece. Like My Absolute Darling, this story can be exquisitely painful to read; the central character’s life experiences are mind bogglingly horrific. But if you can handle it, PLEASE do. It is so worth it.*
Fierce, glorious, amazing, beautiful. A must read. I think Glennon Doyle said it best: “I bought this book and sat down to tread it in solidarity with one of our warrior sisters. I opened it with the intention to bear witness to the story of a survivor. Instead I found myself falling into the hands of one of the great writers and thinkers of our time. Chanel Miller is brilliant. She is a philosopher, a cultural critic, a deep observer, a writer’s writer, a true artist. If we are very lucky, this phenomenal book with be just the first of many world-changing pieces of art this woman offers the world. “ A-to-the-motherfucking-men.
McKowen writes this memoir five years into her sobriety, and you feel it. The writing felt a bit guarded and tentative, particularly compared to some of the other addiction memoirs (to which I became addicted last year). Also, addicts who write about addiction (and get published) tend to be funny (Doyle, LaMott, for example) where McKowen is quite earnest, nearly solemn.
Interesting and unique. Intertwining stories about race, gender, sexuality and feminism. It didn’t slay me the way it did … pretty much everyone else I know who read it … so don’t go by me. If it grabs you, go with it.
Read it, highlight the hell out of it, memorize it. This memoir is raw, real, warm, funny, heart wrenching and jam packed with truth bombs. I’ve never wanted a book to be longer, but would have loved three more of these. Her essay on the five stages of doorbell grief is worth the price of admission alone.
There were so many rave reviews of this novel, and I wanted to love it. But I found it completely devoid of heart. While the book is a technical feat—the very premise (“We almost never know what we know until after we know it.”) unfortunately keeps the reader from ever knowing anything about the characters. They are shells, and it’s almost painful to read about their interconnectedness while being robbed of any connection whatsoever. My college self, who could tolerate novels of ideas—soul be damned—would have loved this book. Grown up Amanda needs a warm beating heart.
Brilliant. Exploring the same themes as Trust Exercise but with incredible depth and heart. Nabokov’s Lolita lives on these pages and we hover over her body and inside her mind—watching a relationship unfold—and a life disintegrate. Abuse is no more simple than love.
Holy shit, this was a tough, tough read. Beautifully written and reported, the stories of these three women are infuriating to witness. Taddeo says she is writing about desire, but she is also writing about male power and control, and women’s longing and loneliness. I recoiled at the descriptions of sex acts—repulsed by how crude and devoid of love they were. These women are somehow free agents—who have no agency. Deeply, deeply disturbing.
Awesome. So much to think about. So much work to do. A great place to start.
A man falsely accused and sentenced to 12 years in prison. His wife—pulled between loyalty and life moving on. What do we owe the people we love? What does time take that we can’t get back? What do we do with impossible choices? Who owes what to whom? This one’s a heart wrencher, beautifully written.
This is a workbook with writing prompts to help you work through aspects of white supremacy from white privilege and exceptionalism to tokenism and claims of color blindness. An amazing education.
“The opposite of racist isn’t ‘not racist’.” How to Be An Antiracist blends memoir, history, and social commentary to reshape our understanding of racist ideas, where they come from, why they persist and how we might overcome them. Required reading.
It’s not often that I agree so wholeheartedly with the New York Times book review—but Jill Abramson’s critique of Rodham is spot on. I loved Sittenfeld’s American Wife—the fictionalized account based on Laura Bush—and had high hopes for Rodham, which considers what would have happened if Hillary had never married Bill. But while Sittenfeld nails Hillary, so much of this story is rooted in reality that the “reimagining” is almost too easy to imagine. The last third of the novel is by far the most interesting, and worth sticking around for, but overall this wasn’t the thrill ride I’d so eagerly anticipated.
Not only does Stein nail internet “self-care” culture, she skewers it. This is a quick read; I enjoyed the during but didn’t think much about it after. And I’m not sure what to make of the ending, where the message seems to be, “start with your body to change your life?”
This is a “remix” of Stamped from the Beginning, Kendi’s hefty National Book Award-winning history of racist ideas in America. This more digestible volume is written (well) for a young adult audience and is a great introduction to Kendi’s work and ideas. Definitely recommend.
Quiet, fierce, meditative. Elizabeth Gilbert called it “a hymn of love to the world.” Kimmerer is a scientist and professor of environmental biology and member of the Citizen Potawatomi Nation, whose essays illustrate the reciprical relationship between humans and the rest of the natural world. For example, Kimmerer explains how lichens (which I learned in this book are a symbiosis of fungus and algae), “carry teachings in the ways that they live. They remind us of the enduring power that arises from mutualism, from the sharing of the gifts carried by each species. Balanced reciprocity has enabled them to flourish under the most stressful conditions.” Lots of gems in these pages (and the paperback is beautiful)—if you’re willing to slow down and learn.
A graphic memoir about race and identity and how we navigate it in America. Jacob is an Indian American woman married to a white Jewish man, raising their mixed race son, who has a lot of questions. A beautiful and engaging book. Highly recommend.
A sharp and witty essayist, Tolentino analyzes the peculiarities of this bizarre cultural moment, with great insight. A taste: In her essay entitled “Always by Optimizing“, she writes, “The default assumption tends to be that it is politically important to designate everyone as beautiful; that it is a meaningful project to make sure that everyone can become, and feel, increasingly beautiful. We have hardly tried to imagine what it might look like if our culture could do the opposite—deescalate the situation, make beauty matter less.”
Amazing. Disturbing. Page turning. If you think you’ve had enough of the Harvey Weinstein story, you haven’t. I am obsessed with the subject of power, how it’s wielded and abused, and how the wealthy use money to furnish an existence completely outside of accountability. Farrow’s feat of journalism brings to mind the line from Hamilton: “who lives, who dies, who tells your story?” Must read. (Also, did you know that Farrow is engaged to Jon Lovett from Pod Save America?)
It’s a crime I didn’t read this book sooner. Brilliant. Insightful. Rich with symbolism and truth. I think about it often.
Roxane Gay is a brilliant writer and thinker. I often find myself wondering what Roxane Gay thinks about this headline or that trend, because she’s perpetually thoughtful and pulls no punches. I love her advice column in the New York Times and her podcast on Luminary with Tressie McMillan Cottam (Hear to Slay - also highly recommend, though you’ll need to pay to subscribe). In this essay collection, Gay’s willingness to grapple with ambiguity makes the writing particularly compelling. “Like most people,” she says, “I am a mass of contradictions.” Her ability to say “both/and” and still deliver a satisfying verdict is her superpower.
“And what do you to to a boy like that but turn yourself into a doorway, a place he can go through again and again, each time entering the same room?” “We passed the tenement building in New Britain Ave. where we lived for three years. Where I rode my pink bike with training wheels up and down the linoleum halls so the kids on the block wouldn’t beat me up for loving a pink thing.” These sentences gut me. Vuong captures all the world’s cruelty in a tiny pink bicycle. So much poetry and beauty here.
Adapted from her Ted Talk, this tight treatise on feminism is lovely.
Love me some Tig. This memoir about her insanely challenging stretch of life is, like Tig herself, charming, funny, and … surprisingly sweet. (Tig also has two podcasts that I love listening to. Don’t Ask Tig and Tig and Cheryl: True Story)
This book is a sentence I could spend the rest of my life diagramming. So, so smart and compelling. Connell nails the hypocrisy in our belief in class transcendence with this day-in-the-life story of a building superintendent and his daughter. I attended an online book reading with the author and geeked out at her about her ingenious symbolism.
Loved. It. Dude’s a witch, and I’m so here for it. You should be too.
Liana Finck is a cartoonist for The New Yorker, and this graphic memoir, told in a series of “Chapter Ones” - is poetic and beautiful. I’m not (despite evidence to the contrary) into graphic novels and memoirs, but this is one I highly recommend.
Twins who spontaneously combust when stressed and the nanny who has to care for them. Quick read. Lighter than I expected. Enjoyed it.
A memoir in poetry by the author of the young adult novel Speak. This book is BRILLIANT. One of my favorites of the year. “Shame turned inside out is rage,” she writes … and writes and writes.
The Standing Chandelier by Lionel Shriver
I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again, Shriver is an evil genius. This novella is dazzling. Ostensibly addressing the question of whether men and women can be “just friends” the story illuminates questions of class and what it means to own something (or someone). Please read it.
MacArthur genius. cohost of Hear to Slay — I love Tressie McMillan Cottam wholeheartedly. So smart, incisive, witty, and wise. This collection of essays is spot on. (I also love her podcast with Roxane Gay on Luminary, Hear to Slay.)
This book is the best explanation I can find of what I do for a living. I reread it every couple of years to remind myself how to explain myself.
Laugh out loud essays about irritable bowel syndrome, dating humiliations, television writing, perspiration and cats, among other things. Irby is a great voice.
Also laugh out loud funny, West reviews movies (using a very unique rating system), offering a hilarious blow-by-blow of the action (or lack thereof).
Another one from the world of my work. A classic on strategy.
And another one, work related. People really, really don’t understand brand strategy until they see it in action, so the work can be a bit lonely. This (lengthy but entertaining) treatise, confirms and illustrates what I’ve known all along: good strategists are writers, hard-wired to find (or make) meaning.
Loved every minute ofethis amazing memoir about Tate’s experience in years of (unconventional) group therapy. So good.
My friend Nicole recommended this to me—and I probably wouldn’t have picked it up otherwise. But McConoughey is an endearing tour guide of his own life experiences from childhood to today. He’s kept journals since his early teens, and this memoir reveals a pretty thoughtful and soulful dude inside the Sexiest Man Alive exterior.
*A quick footnote on A Little Life by Hanya Yanagihara: there are only two imperfections in this book, one of which, I think, is an error. The other, I think, was intentional. (I include them as a footnote because I don’t want anything to discourage people from reading this novel.) The author references a male ballet dancer wearing toe shoes, which male dancers typically don’t, unless they are dancing the role of a woman. NOT a big deal, but I’m a dork and I noticed. The bigger issue, which still did not detract from me wholeheartedly loving the book, was how the POV shifted at points in the story, making it difficult to know who was speaking and to whom until you sunk into the text a bit.)
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