“Ultimately, we will always choose earth; we will always choose each other.” —Christina Koch, after coming out of the blackout and becoming the first woman to orbit the moon.
Anyone else following every moment of the Artemis II mission and weeping for the joy of it all? I haven’t cried this much over space travel in…well…ever. Maybe it’s part residual glow of just having reunited with my longtime friends, Rocky and Rylan Grace, in theaters (wept my way through that as well). Maybe it’s seeing the best of humanity on full display, during a time we’ve been witnessing far too much of the worst. Maybe it’s Moon Joy. Maybe it’s that four good people, on their way to making history, invited us along for the ride so we too can revel in the magic of it all. Amaze. Amaze. Amaze.
Speaking of Project Hail Mary, our hearts still pump chocolate for Weir’s lovable heroes, proving Tray’s theory that the best way to rate books is by how very much we miss the friends we made in them. By that measure, Tayari Jones’s latest, Kin, ranks near the tippity top.
It’s been weeks since I read the last page and I’m still homesick for Annie and Vernice—or as those of us close to Vernice call her, Niecy. Two friends, growing up motherless in Jim Crow’s South, become each other’s chosen family. The trajectory of their very different lives feels fated, often heartbreakingly so, yet through it all, the thread of found kinship binds them to each other. I savored every word of this book. I laughed out loud, I cried real tears. And most of all, I didn’t want it to end. There’s a reason the LA Times dubbed Tayari Jones “the bard of the modern South whose skill at weaving stories is matched only by her compassion for her characters.”
I’ve been rooting for Tayari since the night I met her, on the cusp of her huge success surrounding An American Marriage, and bonded over Boden, BLT’s and the delicious contentment of staying in. She exudes warmth and light. An American Marriage reminded me why I read; Kin reminded me why I love it so.
