More Light to Read By

“One benefit of Summer was that each day we had more light to read by.” – Jeannette Walls

I’m a fan of all four seasons. If I had to hit pause on one, in hopes of drawing it out a bit longer, summer would likely be it. Although being a New England girl means fall is irresistible. And one magical snowfall transforms the world you go to bed in—to a different, more enchanted place you wake up in. Plus, there’s no denying when nature resumes her loveliness in Spring, I revive. Every single time. All this to say, I guess I’m a bit sad that my unforgettable summer has flown by. 

Four seasons aside, I’m rarely of the mindset “out with the old, in with the new.” Case in point—this humanities lover feels pretty giddy that Homer’s epic poem has been propelled back into the cultural mainstream, across the globe. After 2,800 years, people are hunkering down to read The Odyssey. How awesome is that? I couldn’t help but chuckle at one journalist’s quip: “Christopher Nolan and Matt Damon got people to do what teachers never could.” Bravo, boys. Bravo! I suspect I’m not alone here; surely Patmeena Sabit is reveling in the revival too. 

Sabit’s debut novel Good People is famously structured like a modern Greek tragedy. Readers are introduced documentary-style to a “chorus” of nearly 60 community narrators. Dozens of eyewitnesses weigh in on the Sharaf family. A mosaic of neighbors, reporters, teachers, friends, and relatives dissect an Afghan family’s tragedy. The talking heads pique curiosity, provide intrigue, and master pace. Before you say goodbye to summer, pick up “the year’s first great novel”—I’m glad I did. The hours I spent in Patmeena Sabit’s well-crafted world stretched time for me during the sunny season. Thank heavens for more light to read by. 

P.S. If you need more incentive, here’s what our girl Ann Patchett had to say: “A thrilling tour de force of a novel. I’ll be recommending this book to everyone.”

Freeze Frame

"Books have a unique way of stopping time in a particular moment and saying: Let’s not forget this.” —David Eggers

I hate to admit I’ve never read anything by Patrick Radden Keefe before now. Of course, Rachel, who’s always one step ahead of me, praised his page-turner Empire of Pain back in 2022. So, when Rae wrapped up London Falling for my birthday, I dug into the investigative journalist’s latest. Keefe found a unique way of stopping time in contemporary London. The focus of his investigation? The tragic death of 19-year-old Zac Brettler whose body washed up in the River Thames on the morning of November 29, 2019.

London Falling was an eye-opening read. I was stunned to learn how a money-obsessed teenager could fabricate an entirely new identity as the son of a wealthy Russian oligarch just to infiltrate London’s elite circles. Thanks to his innate storytelling abilities and charisma, Zac formed bonds with a shady businessman and a notorious gangster. Ultimately, the British teen unwittingly got caught in the undertow of a criminal netherworld—and a terrifying mystery was born. London Falling is “a meticulously researched propulsive thriller. With empathetic insight, Keefe deftly sifts through facts and fictions to distill Zac’s young life, enthrallingly seeking the unknowable truth of this tragic death.” In this latest bestseller, Keefe essentially tells readers let’s not forget this. 

Posted by Tracy

When Tracy Met Sally

"What really knocks me out is a book that, when you're all done reading it, you wish the author that wrote it was a terrific friend of yours and you could call him [or her] up on the phone whenever you felt like it." –J.D. Salinger

What really knocks me out is a book named Whistler. I turned the last impactful page of Patchett’s latest almost a month ago and I’m still thinking about it. I wish Ann was a terrific friend of mine. I wish I could call her up whenever I felt like it. In the spirit of Sybil Van Antwerp, I’d even settle for writing letters. I’d gush; I just know I would. Or maybe I’d simply pen this: Thank you for being a fixed point in a spinning world—you are such a north star. 

Rachel’s ode to Ann’s latest is coming. In the meantime, let me tell you about running into Sally Hepworth. Even though Sally has written bestseller after bestseller, I’ve never before read one of her domestic thrillers. I have Audible to thank for our chance meeting. An automated algorithm introduced me to the Australian sensation, and after listening to Mad Mabel for four plus minutes, I wanted to hear more. It’s no secret that we’re drawn to grouchy souls around here. We love us a curmudgeon, especially pseudo-salty ones. I fell in love with prickly Elsie Mabel Fitzpatrick, who reminded me of Gladys Kravitz—a hilariously, albeit more grumpy, nosy neighbor to the residents of Kenny Lane. At 81, she has plenty of time for snooping and scoffing. Elsie’s grown adept at keeping a running catalog of her neighbors’ infractions, even (or especially) the minor ones. When she discovers her least favorite neighbor’s dead body, the life she’s tried to carefully reconstruct begins to unravel. Her sad and unlucky past is hot on her dry, hardened heels. 

There’s so much more to this spiky octogenarian than meets the eye. Mabel, a.k.a. Elsie, quickly wormed her way into my heart. Odds are, she’ll do the same to you. Here’s what our girl Jane Harper had to say about her fellow Aussie’s latest: “[A] twisty page-turning triumph, packed with wit, warmth, nuance and mystery. Brilliant.” If only I could give Sally a call to tell her I miss Mabel already.

Posted by Tracy

Silver Lining Playbooks

A year without books is like a year without spring. —me, myself, and I. 

We’re more than halfway through a year that has brought with it some amazing reads. Can you tell I’m focusing on the positive? Yes, I know 2026 has resulted in a highly volatile war (what is it good for?) and other harrowing issues, including a compounding economic crisis. But I have managed to find a silver lining in new books that have felt like rare gems. You’ll be happy to hear AI agrees with me. And I quote: “The literary landscape has been absolutely packed with stellar releases recently. From breathtaking literary fiction to pulse-pounding thrillers, the momentum has been unreal.” High-five, AI! I couldn’t agree more; in fact, that seems like anything but artificial to me. 

It should not surprise anyone who reads our reviews with regularity that we L-O-V-E Maggie O’Farrell. She is very, very extraordinary. We love her more than anyone she adores can love.  And why wouldn’t we? We’re English majors after all, and this woman is celebrated, rightfully so, as one of the greatest contemporary storytellers. Last month, my sister and I flew home together from Connecticut. She asked if she should watch Hamnet, not knowing anything about the storyline. “Absolutely” was my response. Tears filled her eyes at one point—that’s when she said, “This is killing me.” From the seat next to her, looking over her shoulder, I had to hold back my own tears. Mags doesn’t shy away from heartache, trauma, or grief. Instead, the inspired writer provides unique insights. She offers us emotional and literary depth but manages to harness pace and capture mystery. Very few authors can check all those boxes. I swear, she makes it look easy. 

Mags is a brilliant historical novelist. Her latest setting revolves around an Gorta Mor, meaning the Great Hunger—a period of mass starvation and disease in Ireland from 1845 to 1852, triggered by a potato blight that destroyed successive crop yields. (It’s sobering to admit I had no idea that roughly a million people died because of the Great Famine.) Land was inspired by O’Farrell’s great-great-grandfather, who was an Irish mapmaker, and so the story follows a mapmaker and his family whom the British hire to survey the land. What they and none of us can really know is how much the land holds—generational stories (many of them sad), secrets, history, even mystical stuff. If you’re a Maggie O’Farrell fan, you’ll enjoy this exploration of “memory, loss, and the art of witnessing.” Since I am a big fan, I can say way to add to the breathtaking literary landscape in 2026!

Posted by Tracy

A Slice of Life Narrative

“I don’t *ever* write about real people. Art is supposed to be better than that. If you want a slice of life, look out the window.” —Barbara Kingsolver

I’ve got an itch I can’t scratch. I want to have a deep convo with Barbara Kingsolver, to pick her gifted brain. How on earth did she create a fiercely loyal, wryly funny, insecure but resilient Demon Copperhead if not from real people? After all, creating a composite character is a standard writing strategy. Besides, doesn’t “art imitate life”? I suspect The Poisonwood Bible’s brainchild is in Oscar Wilde’s camp, where the belief that human behavior is shaped by what we see in fiction lives large. Oh, what a fascinating discussion we would have! Better yet, let’s get the Pulitzer-Prize winner in a room with another acclaimed writer with the same framed certificate—I’d love to be a fly on the wall if Kingsolver and Strout got to talking shop. 

Elizabeth Strout is a wizard when it comes to “empathetic, unvarnished portrayals of the human experience.” She has a gift for observing the ordinary. And she’s an expert when it comes to a slice-of-life narrative. No need to look out the window, just think about Olive Kitteridge. The woman who readily admitted that life is like Swiss cheese; it takes pieces out of you. So real. So, every day. So, pedestrian. Not surprisingly, Strout has done it again. Her latest novel, The Things We Never Say, revolves around a 57-year-old high school history teacher named Artie Dam. I gotta say, I’m a big fan of Artie’s—he’s an endearing guy. On the outside, Artie has it all. But on the inside, he struggles with the current political climate, the broken state of our world, and a deep loneliness. The hidden truths we carry create distance in our relationships. Strout’s embedded message about the illusion of connection is an interesting one. An important one too. 

Trusty Ann Patchett said, “The new Liz Strout book is the best.” For me, Olive Kitteridge remains my number one. Am I glad I met kind, memorable Artie Dam? You bet I am. Please don’t tell Kingsolver—I like to read, read, read, different types of books, including a well-written, thoughtful day-to-day story. 

Posted by Tracy

Punch-Drunk Love

“Drink deeply from good books.”—Coach John Wooden

I wish I had received a card with the Seven-Point Creed written on it when I graduated from elementary school. I’m just so sure it explains, in part, the coach of the century’s greatness. I’ve got point number 4 down pat—I’m drinking deeply from good books. Kathryn Stockett’s The Calamity Club was thoroughly and altogether intoxicating. After 17 years, the genius behind The Help has given me a total buzz with her sophomore novel. In fact, I still feel tipsy. 

I’m a book drunkard. I wish I were still immersed in the rich, vivid details of the 1930s South, which is sayin’ something considering its depression era. Talk about a sensory setting! Oh, to have award-winning narrators Jenna Lamia and January LaVoy’s voices sharing the story of a group of unlikely but highly resourceful women who experience desperate times together. You can bet they employ desperate (sometimes hilarious) measures. The novel features alternating perspectives. Stockett moves seamlessly from an 11-year-old orphan named Meg (who has officially stolen my heart) to a bookkeeper called Birdie, who’s as memorable as she is bright and genuine. When their paths converge, the magic of unconventional and underestimated women happens. Oh Kathryn, we’re so glad you’re back. 

It’s true: “The Calamity Club will make you laugh, cry, and cheer—it’s a testament to resilience, friendship, and the fierce, funny women who know that calamity can be the spark of new beginnings. This is Kathryn Stockett at her most confident, heartfelt, and hilarious—the triumphant return of one of the most beloved storytellers of our time.” I’m drunk on the idea that she’s back and she’s here to stay!  

Posted by Tracy

All Buzz, Less Bite

“The common stories are one plus one equals two. We get it, they make sense. But the good stories are one plus one equals three.” —Ken Burns

My last read has me thinking well past the final page. On a day like today, when jet lag has had his wakeful grip on me, thinking about things is proof of life. This may be the exhaustion talking, but I’m ultimately grateful that curiosity sometimes kills this old lady cat. Blessed curiosity interrupts the stress cycle—it takes you out of anxiety into joy. And for the rest of 2026, I’m choosing joy. 

I’ll elaborate more on being a joy-finder later. For now, let’s talk about Yesteryear, the book that has me reflecting casually or otherwise. This contemporary fiction meets social satire plus psychological thriller has brought with it one ton of buzz. (Anne Hathaway will be bringing protagonist Natalie Heller Mills to life on the big screen.) Is it buzz-worthy? Absolutely. Props to Caro Claire Burke for providing us with such an inventive debut novel. Her satirical and timely concept—which she acknowledges was inspired by influencers like Hannah Neeleman (the parallels are as big as the broad side of a barn)—revolves around a tradwife who falsely curates homesteading for social media. When the algorithm-obsessed influencer wakes up on the farm in 1865, she finds herself isolated in a demanding day without end. Burke’s wild premise and relevant commentary alone bring in da noise, bring in da buzz. 

Buzz alone is not enough to pass the reading litmus test. What is the litmus test, you ask?  If it’s not worth re-reading, it’s not worth reading. Burke’s story did not breathe for me. It fell flat, in part, because to my curious mind, Natalie felt like a wooden character. I recognize, by design, she’s meant to be artificial and alienating. I can deal with an unlikeable and unreliable narrator. But in Burke’s effort to create a deliberate caricature of the modern trad wife, she needed to better understand their culture. Developing a satire of a culture you don’t really understand is risky business. You risk reinforcing harmful stereotypes. And sometimes you miss the mark. (I did think her deep dive into contemporary internet culture was fascinating.) This isn’t a “common” story in the trad sense of the word; however, it is one plus one equals two. 

P.S. I’ve run out of space and time. I’ll have to talk about choosing joy in another post. I will say joy-finding is a whole lot easier when I’m offline. It makes training your attention much easier, that’s for sure. Can I get an amen, Mary Oliver?

Posted by Tracy

A Quiet Little Book

“There is no friend as loyal as a book.” –Ernest Hemingway 

Oh, Ernest, I understand well the emotional attachment a reader can feel for a gorgeous book. In my mind, there’s no question that books offer unconditional companionship and unchanging wisdom. They’re constant. They’re comfort. They’re loyal. Reading can provide “a moveable feast” of experiences for book lovers. Of course, the same can be said for my Golden named Ringo. He’s all of the above plus a soul full of unparalleled devotion. That said, I doubt my latest recommendation about an elderly man who has a deep affinity and need for his beloved elkhound will surprise. 

Rachel’s the reason When the Cranes Fly South was in my tbr pile to begin with. (No surprise there either.) When we were in Parnassus Books, she pointed to Lisa Ridzen’s debut novel and said, “This was really good.” When she points at a cover, I take note. The story is about an 89-year-old Swede named Bo who’s perpetually lonely for his wife Fredrika—she’s gone into care because she can’t really remember anything or anyone, including him. Each day caregivers visit Bo at home. His son, Hans, regularly looks in on him too. But his best company by far is his dog Sixton. Bo’s hound becomes a point of contention between he and Hans who believes his father is much too frail for a dog. To be honest, there were times where I wanted to pummel Hans. He fails to see that Sixton is a fine cushion for his father’s old age. 

There’s more to this thoughtful character-driven story. Charm, for one. A longing for autonomy is another. And the hope for future peace of mind because things will not be left unsaid. Reviewer Judith McKinnon summed it up well: “It’s a quiet little book, and sometimes I thought as I read it, that there wasn’t really a lot happening. And yet it kept me turning the pages.” When the Cranes Fly South is, by design, meant to be pondered more than consumed.

Posted by Tracy