Book Reviews – Penny Shima Glanz

A Divided Duty

Fri, 04 Sep 2026 12:00:00 +0000

A Divided Duty

A Divided Duty
by Seanan McGuire
400 pages, Tor Publishing Group (2026)

Find a copy:

Bookshop.org (affiliate — supports this site)
WorldCat (library)

A reader without experience of the urban fantasy October Daye series could read A Divided Duty and come away richer for the experience. However, I feel that to fully grasp the nuances of this newest volume, it is beneficial to have read from the beginning, with Rosemary and Rue.

Toby is a Hero of the Realm, and a new mother to her second child and first with Tybalt. The clock is ticking on Raysel's staying with October and completing her healing mentally from the trauma of her time in Blind Michael's lands. The comfort found within Toby's house and help has given Raysel space to heal from her trauma and her mother. It has taken time, but trust has grown between the fae teen and her semi-accidental guardian. The tension, however, grows when Luna declares for all of Faerie that she alone can care for her precious child, and the consequences of that prove dangerous for all. It has not been easy for any of them between the new baby and trauma and trying to figure out life under one roof. It's great to see Raysel and the group of fae teens Toby has collected grow and heal and come into their own as individuals, even though in Faerie they are still a decade out from being seen as adults in their majority. This safe space to work through their awkward growth makes Luna's words and actions against her daughter's best interests all the more egregious. The consequences find Toby working to get there, get Raysel, and get back by the light of a candle, all while trying to care for her newborn and keep her safe from all the monsters of Faerie. It's nice to watch Toby try to balance the challenges of newborn parenting with her work as Hero, and her own needs to help others. I think this newest story shows Toby's growth in her relationship with Tybalt and with herself most of all. She recognizes she can't do it alone and works to bring together her community. Yes, as Hero there are things only she can do, but she isn't completely alone.

It's a book with layers that reveal themselves long after finishing. The challenge with these long-running series is that with each new release, I want to reread the entire series yet again and unravel new layers in the universe, as I impatiently wait for the sequel to A Divided Duty.

Making Art and Making a Living

Wed, 12 Aug 2026 12:00:00 +0000

Making Art and Making a Living

Making Art and Making a Living: Adventures in Funding a Creative Life
by Mason Currey
240 pages, Celadon Books (2026)

Find a copy:

Bookshop.org (affiliate — supports this site)
WorldCat (library)

Review at NetGalley →

Taiwan Travelogue

Tue, 30 Jun 2026 12:00:00 +0000

Taiwan Travelogue

Taiwan Travelogue
by Yáng Shuāng-zǐ, Lin King (translator)
320 pages, Graywolf Press (2024)

Find a copy:

Bookshop.org (affiliate — supports this site)
WorldCat (library)

Traditionally I've had a difficult time with Booker Prize winners; I'm not always sure what it is about being shortlisted or winning that makes them impenetrable in the first pages so I set them aside unread. I don't recall what made me place a hold on this one. I'm glad I did.

Taiwan Travelogue took me somewhere unexpected from the very start. On its surface it's a story about a female Japanese travel writer touring 1930s colonial Taiwan with her Taiwanese interpreter. Beneath that, it's a layered examination of power after some surfaces have been polished smooth. It explores colonisation wearing the costume of hospitality, curiosity, and friendship; appetite, too. Aoyama Chizuko eats her way through her sightseeing with a voracity that is its own kind of consuming. I found myself snacking through every description. I am grateful it is a slim book.

I could see what was happening long before Aoyama Chizuko could. Or perhaps because of my distance as Reader, before she allowed herself to. That gap is critical. The space between what the reader understands and what the characters choose to know, that is where this novel goes from interesting to sublime. I found myself trying to read faster not because I was comfortable, but because I needed to know whether things would improve, or whether they would get worse. And I was also trying to slow down so I could savor those moments, the quiet ones that hinted towards friendship. As with most books, and life, it was a reading I am still digesting.

The literary structure is a delight. I love footnotes, and these do more than whimsically annotate. This is a doubly translated work: the fictional layer is the crux of the story itself; Lin King then had to carry every one of those nuances into English with enough precision and grace to earn its place as the 2026 Booker Prize winner. A reader who glosses over the layers will miss much of what makes this text remarkable. It is worth reading every word.

What We Can Know

Fri, 19 Jun 2026 12:00:00 +0000

What We Can Know

What We Can Know : A Novel
by Ian McEwan
320 pages, Knopf (2025)

Find a copy:

Bookshop.org (affiliate — supports this site)
WorldCat (library)

Review at NetGalley →

I came to this novel without prior experience of McEwan’s work, and without having read much beyond the description.

What We Can Know moves across two timelines: one near enough to our present to feel recognizable, and one set a century ahead in a future that is entirely plausible — and therein lies the haunting. At the center of both is a corona, a poem read aloud at a small dinner, and then essentially lost to time. What radiates outward from that absence is where the story lives: choices and their long shadows, love and its complications, ecological consequence, and the persistent human question of what we can actually know about another person, or a moment, or the past, or the future that past is shaping.

The novel is a slow build, the opening asks for patience and a degree of trust. I found it genuinely difficult to get into; where it was going was a murky path I wasn’t sure I’d ever slog out of. I persevered, slowly. It took months to make it more than a bit of a way in. When the structure opened up, I couldn’t read quickly enough, and I am still turning the connections and layers over in my mind.

For readers who haven’t encountered McEwan before, or who have seen mixed reviews and are uncertain: this is a novel worth the time it asks for. It is, perhaps, a good summer read — not for the beach, but for the kind of reading that happens in pieces, picked up and set down, and then quietly thought about in between. The characters across both timelines are genuinely, sometimes uncomfortably, human. The worlds McEwan builds feel earned. And the questions the book raises about memory, truth, and what history can actually recover have stayed with me in the way that good literature tends to.

A Trade of Blood

Fri, 12 Jun 2026 12:00:00 +0000

A Trade of Blood

A Trade of Blood: Book 3 of Shadow of the Leviathan
by Robert Jackson Bennett
400 pages, Del Rey (2026)

Find a copy:

Bookshop.org (affiliate — supports this site)
WorldCat (library)

Review at NetGalley →

A Trade of Blood by Robert Jackson Bennett is the next installment in the Ana and Din Mysteries, and it trusts both its characters and its readers to have grown.

The setup draws on the oldest of tensions: two powerful families on the verge of all-out war, a murder that may or may not be what it appears, and an impossible task handed to the one pair capable of unraveling it.

Bennett adds more, though, and what he adds makes for a much richer and more enjoyable read. Familial conflict is only the beginning. Underneath it is a deeper examination of how family shapes everything — the demands and expectations of loyalty, wounds both visible and invisible, and all the emotions that don't have clean names — for an individual, and perhaps for an empire.

Din is a more seasoned and mature investigator than we met at the start of The Tainted Cup. His growth has been one of the quiet pleasures of this series, and here it carries both a cost and a gift. Experience changes how he sees the world, and Bennett gives real weight to what that means for his engraver ability and his sense of self.

Through Din's eyes, we also see more of Ana than we have before. She remains utterly singular, and this book offers new dimensions to her character. There are threads here I am still turning over, and I find myself hoping Bennett continues to pull on them.

The book's exploration of farming practices, food systems, and the industry and expectations of empire adds a layer I didn't expect to find as compelling as I did. It recalled for me the feeling of first reading The Jungle and Silent Spring, though in a world entirely its own. This is the type of world building I enjoy most as a reader. It is intentional, structural, and has been quietly enhancing the story since The Tainted Cup.

A Trade of Blood is a more interior book than its predecessors, which suits exactly where Din is as a person. This world and these characters are worth the three-book investment, and with each new story, there is always more to discover.

Boy from the North Country

Sun, 17 May 2026 12:00:00 +0000

Boy from the North Country

Boy from the North Country
by Sam Sussman
336 pages, Penguin Press (2025)

Find a copy:

Bookshop.org (affiliate — supports this site)
WorldCat (library)

This title arrived on my doorstep in a nice tidy yellow box, part of my Nu Reads subscription. It's sort of touted as a Bob Dylan paternity mystery. Eh, whatever. The book earns its keep on entirely different ground.

Sussman hooked me, by really nailing one difficult detail of any writing: the experience of being the adult child in the room.

It's found in the way a parent manages what details she discloses. The careful editing of what the doctor said. The performance of "I'm handling it" aimed directly at the one person who loves them most. If you have ever driven someone to a cancer treatment, bracing against every bump in the road, sat with your own thoughts (and some knitting or a book untouched in your lap) in a waiting room while someone you love is on the other side of a door, and then spent the careful ride home receiving whichever version of the truth they decided you could handle — this book will feel very familiar. Not comfortably familiar. Simply… accurate, as if taken from your life (or journal).

It's an accessible read. "Easy" isn't quite the word I'd use even years after experiencing a parent dying of cancer, but the storytelling pulls you through. There's no doubt from the start as to how at least part of the book will end. The NYC scenes add some color along with other threads of adult children navigating parent caregiving that are worth following.

Overall, this is a quiet novel telling the strained story of a son attempting to know his mother before he can't ask more questions, and about how much we don't say even when we're trying to say everything. And what's lost in those omissions.

I recommend reading it with a caveat that you will need a few minutes after certain chapters and scenes.

Playful

Wed, 11 Feb 2026 12:00:00 +0000

Playful

Playful : how play shifts our thinking, inspires connection, and sparks creativity
by Cas Holman
288 pages, Avery (2025)

Find a copy:

Bookshop.org (affiliate — supports this site)
WorldCat (library)

If you spend any time with me, you'll find I urge play. Doodling, swatching just to see how a yarn or stitch works in different combinations, sitting outside (when weather allows) and just enjoying nature. So I was excited to read Playful.

I wanted more research and a more in-depth adult play curriculum. I work with seniors creating blankets, small business clients navigating tech challenges, and knitters and crocheters learning to trust themselves beyond the pattern. I wanted a playbook I could use with all of them. Instead, it's a breezy survey, which is great! It's part memoir and part workbook, with a lot of space devoted to Holman's design work (especially Rigamajig, which I want a time machine for to send a set back to my childhood). It's a good introduction, but it glosses where I wanted it to linger.

That said, anyone publishing a popular science book that endorses play for adults is doing important work. Holman explores the history of play research, and if you glean through the name-dropping, you'll find others to follow up with. I had no idea she created Geemo, which I've always wanted. There's something powerful in how that project teaches that art can become practical, that design can be this.

One line stuck with me: during her time helping relatives with research in the Galapagos, she writes, "try as I might, I just could not do something the same way twice" (103). Yes. That's play. That's swatching. That's the work of building a practice through iteration and variation, trusting that each attempt teaches you something new even when — especially when — it doesn't match the one before. Sure, sometimes you need to follow a recipe or protocol exactly. But play lives in the variation, and that matters too. I love saying "I'm not sure, but let's try this to figure it out. It might not work, but we won't know if we don't try." That's the spirit I was hoping this book would dig into more deeply.

It's worth reading for the introduction and the sparks, but I'm still hunting for the deeper playbook. I guess I'll have to play more and write one myself.

The Blanket Cats

Tue, 03 Feb 2026 12:00:00 +0000

The Blanket Cats

The Blanket Cats
by Kiyoshi Shigematsu, translated by Jesse Kirkwood
272 pages, G.P. Putnam's Sons (2025)

Find a copy:

Bookshop.org (affiliate — supports this site)
WorldCat (library)

I resisted this book for weeks.

It sat on the new books shelf at the library, and I walked past it again and again. The cover caught my eye: a patchwork blanket with two cats (one peeking over the top, one stretched out at the bottom), and a silver tabby wrapped in a similar blanket on the back, its tail visible from the front. I've read the Before the Coffee Gets Cold series. I've read Days at the Morisaki Bookshop. I know these cozy Japanese stories, and I know books of this type can get repetitive as publishers try to churn out bestsellers. But Dot is a blanket cat, and eventually I succumbed. It's a small book, just larger than my iPad mini, and short at 272 pages.

What surprised me most was the variety, and I don't mean just that there are seven cats and seven stories. They are each so different from each other, I double-checked to see if this was an anthology. It's not. Each story explores distinct emotional terrain: the weight of caring for aging loved ones, the complexity of grief and learning to see beyond someone's surface, children navigating change they can't control and the adults trying to help them through it. The cats are as varied as the humans they encounter.

I've been immersed in Japanese culture for over 30 years, but my language skills remain at extreme basics. I know there are layers in these stories I didn't fully grasp, cultural and linguistic nuances that would deepen the reading and things I know are lost in the English translation. That said, Kirkwood's translation reads smoothly. That's part of what makes the book interesting. It rewards cultural knowledge. And yet, universal themes come through and leave anyone with something to think about: loss, connection, second chances, the ways we care for each other and fail each other and try again.

I read it over three days and two nights, the same amount of time you can rent a cat in Japan. In the book's world, cats come with blankets that carry their scent, helping them adapt to unfamiliar homes. Each person renting a cat has different reasons, different needs, different expectations of the experience. For some, this rental period works out better than others. I read the stories whenever I had a moment, or found myself stuck with Dot curled on my blanket covered lap. To my surprise they're staying with me, a bit like cat fur. I keep thinking about the cats and the people they met.

If you're looking for comparisons to other cat-centered Japanese fiction: I haven't read We'll Prescribe You a Cat yet, so I can't speak to that one. I had to return The Cat Who Saved Books before I finished it. I'll get back to it someday. But I read The Travelling Cat Chronicles back in 2019 and wrote in my notebook at the time, "Ouch this hit me in all the pieces. Moving. Haunting." The Blanket Cats has a different touch than that, but it still lingers. It's a little rough and not as polished, more like a soft nip on the back of your hand than a cuddled in deep purr.

After I finished reading, I skimmed some reviews online. I saw comments lambasting the Britishisms in the translation (car park, apparently). Honestly, I didn't notice. But if that sort of distinction causes you to dismiss a story, I'll keep my thoughts about that to myself and calmly suggest you read something else.

I encourage you to read it with an open mind. It may surprise you.

Knitting Comfortably: The Ergonomics of Handknitting

Mon, 19 Jan 2026 12:00:00 +0000

Knitting Comfortably: The Ergonomics of Handknitting

Knitting Comfortably: The Ergonomics of Handknitting
by Carsen Demers
249 pages, Ergo I Publishing (2016)

Find a copy:

WorldCat (library)

One of my most favorite resources to pull out when I work with new students isn't the technique book or stitch dictionary they expect. It's Carsen Demers' Knitting Comfortably: The Ergonomics of Handknitting. It's the sort of book that makes me wish for a time machine so I could give it to my younger self so I could have developed better habits early on.

First and foremost: If you are experiencing pain, get thee to a doctor for a proper evaluation. Neither the book nor this post constitute medical advice. Both are for informational and educational purposes.

This title comprises 13 chapters covering basically everything: from explaining ergonomic basics and how your body moves, to what happens when you knit, to how to think about knitting ergonomics and ways to both intervene early and provide self care. This is a massive volume (that you should read carefully; it's heavy and physically a large book).

The information is explained in a way where you don't need to remember biology class or draw human anatomy from memory. The pictures and illustrations are clear, and there are lots of charts to help you pinpoint what you need to know. Demers breaks down how different sitting positions affect your spine, how hand positions create tension in your forearms, and what happens in your shoulders when you hunch over your work. It's fascinating in a "oh no, I do that" kind of way.

Chapter 9, which covers tools and materials, is one I turn to often. I most definitely appreciate his chart on needle characteristics, explaining different materials, how flexible and heavy they are, and what friction they might provide with certain yarn. Many of the knitters I work with love long straight aluminum knitting needles and traditional crochet hooks. There's nothing wrong with them, but they can hasten overuse pain. Understanding why (weight distribution, grip diameter, material friction) helps us make better choices.

I find myself turning to this book when someone tells me they have pain when working. I ask how and where they sit as they knit or crochet. Often they're in a comfy chair and hunched over with poor posture and lighting. The book helps me suggest practical changes: pillows or stuffed animals for support, task lighting, different needle materials, or adjusted sitting positions.

Who This Book Is For

This book is for everyone who uses their hands for fiber arts. Whether you're a newer knitter or crocheter who wants to build good habits from the start, an experienced maker dealing with new or worsening pain, a teacher working with students of any age, or someone who thinks "I'll deal with it later" (spoiler: later is now, and this book helps).

What I appreciate most is that Demers holds a similar philosophy to me: change doesn't happen overnight, and ergonomics are about making things more comfortable for you. There's no one right way; there's the way that works for your body, your space, and your practice.

While I have read it cover to cover a few times, these days I'm more likely to pull it off my shelf to respond to a specific query. It's become one of those books that often finds itself on my desk instead of the shelf.

The Color of Water & The Heaven and Earth Grocery Store

Thu, 30 Oct 2025 12:00:00 +0000

The Color of Water & The Heaven and Earth Grocery Store

The Color of Water: A Black Man's Tribute to His White Mother
by James McBride
295 pages, Publisher (1995)

Find a copy:

WorldCat (library)

Having now read both of these titles, I'm struck by how they speak to each other. Of course it makes sense; McBride's tribute to his mother shares the true stories of his mother (and grandmother) that influenced The Heaven and Earth Grocery Store. Both were Sisterhood book club picks (the novel was also a summer read title recommended by one of our rabbis), though I only attended the discussion for the memoir a few weeks ago.

I listened to both as audiobooks and the productions were amazing. From our sisterhood discussion, it seems that having McBride's mother's "voice" in my ears made the structure much more obvious than it appears on the page. The alternating chapters between James's story and his mother's created a rich, layered narrative that the audiobook production enhanced beautifully.

Having read the novel first, I was fascinated to learn what parts of his mother's life McBride mined for it. He takes the nuggets and polishes them into a wonderful rich story. It doesn't feel forced. Ruth/Rachel/Ruchel's experiences as a young Jewish woman in the South, her complicated relationship with her family and faith, the Jewish community's interconnection with Black neighbors, these threads run through both books.

Our discussion focused on Ruth and how despite her choice to leave Judaism, she sounds like a very typical Jewish mother. We all wished we could see the children following her to various cultural events in the city.

Personally, I found the memoir incredibly touching and moving, a way to understand a parent in ways we don't when we are younger. McBride's curiosity about his mother, his need to understand her silences and choices, drives both the memoir and echoes in his fiction. The novel takes those lived experiences and builds them into something new while honoring their truth.

These books work together to explore identity, family, faith, and belonging. The memoir grounds you in the real lived experience; the novel shows you what an artist can do with those experiences when given room to imagine. Both are worth your time, and reading them as a pair enriches both.

Our book club decided what we want is stories from all of McBride's siblings. Curiosity for sure.

The Book of Lost Names

Wed, 29 Oct 2025 12:00:00 +0000

The Book of Lost Names

The Book of Lost Names
by Kristin Harmel
388 pages, Gallery Books (2020)

Find a copy:

WorldCat (library)

I first read this title as our September sisterhood book club pick, and it's a book that's sat with me for weeks so I've attempted to organize my thoughts in this review/post.

A young woman after fleeing a roundup in Paris finds herself forging documents to help Jewish children escape Nazi-occupied France during World War II, encoding their real names in a hidden book so their identities won't be lost forever. Decades later, the discovery of that book forces her to confront the past she's never discussed. The novel explores grief, the bonds between parents and children, and for all of us, a degree of what could have been had just one small event in our lives happened differently. It's more hopeful than many Holocaust novels, though some plot points felt a bit farfetched.

It's been a while since I've read in this genre. I overdid it many years ago and there's only so much trauma, even when cushioned in fiction, you can read. In many ways, Harmel's novel is different; it felt more hopeful than many of the titles I've read. However, it's still a story of trauma.

I was curious what the sisterhood discussion would cover. At first, I was surprised that the group was more caught up in the plausibility of passing with the forgeries than much else. I was hoping the discussion would center on Eva just hopping on a plane to Europe and then jumping on an earlier flight when her son tries to slow her down. We had perhaps 30 seconds on that, but as it's their reality (whether or not that sort of journey is plausible) they didn't really want to discuss it.

We spent considerable time discussing the complicated relationship between a daughter and her mother, especially for one in deep disbelieving grief and a daughter unable to take time to mourn because she has to continue living. That mother-daughter dynamic, the weight of unspoken histories and the grief that makes connection impossible, resonated deeply.

The novel balances the horror with the very human story of a daughter trying to survive and also in an imperfect way care for her grief-stricken mother. Are any of us perfect caregivers? The storytelling interweaves Eva's journey in the present and her son's bewilderment at her sudden decision to fly to France with the events of Eva's past. The story is richer for helping the reader understand the choices she made both then and her urgency now. And her struggle to figure out how to explain to her son when she's faced with not just the book she'd thought lost but her entire hidden life.

I think what's hard for many readers is not understanding how that time was just not discussed after. But that's true of many children whose parents underwent trauma. It may not have been on the scale of the Shoah but there are similarities for many families. What is also challenging is accepting how we may think of questions today and it is bittersweet, painful, and difficult when we realize they are now impossible to ask. Eva's commitment to call her son and explain is both the most hopeful and hardest part of the book for me.

Reading this at midlife, I find myself caught between Eva the young woman making impossible choices in wartime France and Eva the semi-retired librarian finally finding what she thought lost and able perhaps to speak of some of it to her son. I understand the silence. My parents experienced a different trauma and it's one that shaped my life. I wish my mother could have shared the weight of carrying some of her stories and understood that yes, the fear that speaking them aloud may change everything, but it wouldn't necessarily have caused the gloom she predicted. In many ways, reading it now I find it a book about the questions we wish we'd asked.

I think this is a book that can be reread, with more depth found with each reading. I'm surprised by how long it's sat with me as I draft these thoughts over a month after reading it. It's not in an uncomfortable, under-my-skin way, but there is something about the story that keeps surfacing in my thoughts. Yes, it's set in the horrors of the Holocaust, but at its core it's an exploration of parent-child relationships and inherited trauma that many readers will find resonates beyond that specific historical moment.

Anointed

Thu, 18 Sep 2025 12:00:00 +0000

Anointed

Anointed: The Extraordinary Effects of Social Status in a Winner-Take-Most World
by Toby Stuart
288 pages, Simon & Schuster (2025)

Find a copy:

Bookshop.org (affiliate — supports this site)
WorldCat (library)

Review at NetGalley →

Anointed by Toby Stuart is a fascinating journey through one of humanity's enduring puzzles: social status. This isn't an academic treatise on sociology; it's an accessible study of how status has shaped civilizations throughout history and continues to influence us today in ways we're only beginning to understand, thanks to the rise of social media and AI.

Stuart centers the book on an idea that is both simple and profound: social status operates as a unique form of currency. Unlike material wealth, you can't simply acquire status through purchase or conceal it for safekeeping, no matter how desperately some might try.

One of the book's strongest demonstrations shows how hierarchies emerge naturally, even in societies that actively pursue equality. These social rankings don't appear out of nowhere; they're built on subtle cues, signals, and markers that we often process unconsciously. From the way someone dresses to the words they choose, from their social connections to their cultural references, we're constantly transmitting and receiving status information.

Once we have a solid background of how this happens, Stuart explores the concept of "anointment." Status isn't gained by climbing a straightforward ladder with globally expected and accepted results. It's remarkably fickle and context-dependent. Someone who commands respect in one setting might find themselves completely overlooked in another. The author illustrates this through compelling examples from various fields, showing how the same person can be simultaneously high-status and low-status depending on their environment.

This dynamic became painfully clear when my late mother-in-law was advised to introduce herself as "Dr. —" to medical professionals during her cancer treatment. She had a doctorate in economics. Using this title earned her better attention and clearer explanations. It bothered us both: what about those without her education? This is what Stuart calls "Competence Confusion", status markers influencing even life-and-death interactions.

The book truly shines in its interdisciplinary approach. Stuart doesn't confine the text to business case studies or academic research. Instead, he weaves together insights from literature, art, fashion, technology, and organizational behavior to create a comprehensive picture of how status operates across different domains. This makes complex sociological concepts surprisingly digestible for general readers.

What makes the book feel urgent is Stuart's look at how social media and AI are reshaping status dynamics right now. Traditional gatekeepers are crumbling, new influencers are rising, and status shifts happen at lightning speed. Where does this leave us? Stuart captures our challenge perfectly with a Robert Louis Stevenson quote: "The worst historian has a clearer view of the period he studies than the best of us can hope to form of that in which we live. The obscurest epoch is today."

Anointed is packed with insights that will have you reconsidering everyday social interactions and questioning assumptions you didn't even know you held.

Why We Write About Ourselves

Mon, 01 Sep 2025 12:00:00 +0000

Why We Write About Ourselves

Why We Write About Ourselves: Twenty Memoirists on Why They Expose Themselves (and Others) in the Name of Literature
by Meredith Maran (editor)
254 pages, Plume (2016)

Find a copy:

WorldCat (library)

Review at NetGalley →

I'm no longer sure when exactly I requested a review copy of Why We Write About Ourselves, but it's sat in my to-be-read queue for nearly a decade now. I know that I'm fascinated by both memoir and published diaries. I recall that once I received the ARC, I wasn't sure how to review it because I feared everyone would assume I read it because I'm interested in writing a memoir. That isn't true, at least not yet. But I'm still fascinated that many choose this route, and I choose to read many of them.

I'm still unlikely to ever write a memoir, at least one that would be published. I'm very happy to write about myself in my private diary with pen on paper and hope that it never sees the light of day. To paraphrase Ayelet Waldman, I like to essentially open a vein and bleed on the page. I don't expect it to be good writing, but it is emotionally satisfying.

I'm fascinated that nearly every one of the twenty memoirists wrote that they found they suddenly had to write the memoir: to tell the story, to make sure it was read. As Jesmyn Ward writes, she wanted to tell the story of "other people out there living through this who were wondering why nothing of their experience was being reflected back to them" while also hoping to "make connection" and help others "see us in a way they'd never seen us before."

What I also found interesting was something Dani Shapiro wrote. Because this book was published nearly a decade ago, each author is prefaced with a short blurb by the editor of the collection, Meredith Maran. It also includes a section, "Vitals," which includes date of birth, where they live, family (sometimes with ages), some "notable notes," and social media/website information. That bit is now likely dated. Anyway, Shapiro wrote: "I'm not a believer in memoir as catharsis. It's a misapprehension that readers have that by writing memoir you're purging yourself of your demons. Writing memoir has the opposite effect. It embeds your story deep inside you. It mediates the relationship between the present and the past by freezing a moment in time."

If Why We Write About Ourselves were published today, the essays would be very different. The tone might be as well. The world and each author has changed. But like the memoirs they discuss, this collection itself is frozen in time—echoing Shapiro's observation about how writing embeds and freezes moments. I have a feeling one theme would remain: how much each author put into deciding who they wrote about in their lives and why, how they chose to approach asking for help with details, and how they chose to include memories and their understanding of events.

Nearly a decade on, Why We Write About Ourselves is an interesting read and gives a glimpse into those who write and publish memoir… and the rest of us who read them.

Cloud Warriors

Thu, 28 Aug 2025 12:00:00 +0000

Cloud Warriors

Cloud Warriors: Deadly Storms, Climate Chaos―and the Pioneers Creating a Revolution in Weather Forecasting
by Thomas E. Weber
288 pages, St Martin's Press (2025)

Find a copy:

WorldCat (library)

Cloud Warriors by Thomas Weber chronicles the evolution of weather forecasting from a period of mostly educated guesswork to the sophisticated science it is today. Today's five-day weather forecast demonstrates accuracy at least as good as a one-day forecast was 40 years ago. Weber has written a readable book by focusing on the people who have transformed how we predict storms and weather.

The book moves methodically through different weather events, opening with dramatic storm chases. Weber clearly illustrates how failures in accurate and timely forecasts cost lives. He traces the development of modern meteorology through key scientific figures and shows how military necessity during World War II accelerated weather science. The narrative explores how satellite technology has fundamentally changed our view of atmospheric systems.

Weber excels at making complex meteorological concepts accessible without dumbing them down. He explains how models work, why forecasts sometimes fail spectacularly, and how forecasters attempt to balance understanding and prediction in real time. The narrative weaves together both historical breakthroughs and contemporary challenges, including how climate change is pushing weather systems beyond the historical patterns that traditional models rely on.

What makes Cloud Warriors an enjoyable read is how Weber avoids bogging down the narrative in jargon or technical details without sacrificing accuracy. Meteorological concepts remain clear to general readers. He excels at creating a human story around the science; he doesn't merely name drop but explores why each individual mentioned is key to weather forecasting.

Based on the cover design, I expected this book to dive deeper into the technical mechanics of modern forecasting. I wanted details on how numerical weather prediction models actually work and insights into the algorithms that power today's systems. However, the subtitle—"Deadly Storms, Climate Chaos—and the Pioneers Creating a Revolution in Weather Forecasting"— telegraphs Weber's true focus on the people and politics behind weather science. This approach makes for engaging storytelling, and while the mathematical detail I wanted is missing, Cloud Warriors serves as an accessible introduction to meteorological history and the personalities who shaped it.

Grocery

Wed, 27 Aug 2025 12:00:00 +0000

Grocery

Grocery : The Buying and Selling of Food in America
by Michael Ruhlman
320 pages, Abrams Press (2017)

Find a copy:

WorldCat (library)

Review at NetGalley →

I requested a review copy back when it was published in 2017, but didn't actually read it until this past July. That timing turned out to be fortuitous. Reading Grocery while watching a new Wegmans location transform from construction site to bustling store gave Ruhlman's exploration of American grocery culture an unexpectedly immediate relevance.

Ruhlman does more than trace grocery store history; he tries to figure out why we're so fascinated by these places. He brings his father's wonder into the store too. The book examines how grocery stores became central to American life; part practicality, part nostalgia, and part inherited behavior from watching our parents navigate aisles and make choices.

I meal plan, cook nearly every meal, and split my weekly shopping between 2-3 different stores (sorry, retailers). So Ruhlman's observations about grocery store psychology hit home for me. He's right about how different grocers create their own identities and how retailers really want us to do all our shopping in one place. I found myself thinking about my own shopping patterns as I read.

Yet many trends have remained the same since this book's publication and the pandemic disrupting and changing how we shop. Many stores are still shrinking their produce sections, others struggle with inventory consistency, and they all are creative about filling shelves, especially if there's a gap. Overall, Ruhlman's core observations about our relationship with grocery stores has stayed the same. If anything, recent disruptions have confirmed his analysis.

Reading this then experiencing a Wegmans' opening weekend firsthand made me deeply appreciative of the logistics and planning that make modern American grocery stores possible. Ruhlman captures both the mundane miracle of stocked shelves and the cultural significance of these spaces where we make daily decisions about nourishment and family.

Grocery works because Ruhlman balances industry analysis with personal reflection. His father's influence threads through the narrative in a way that illuminates both our individual and collective relationships with grocery shopping. Ruhlman's passion for the subject keeps both stories engaging throughout.

The Heat Will Kill You First

Mon, 25 Aug 2025 12:00:00 +0000

The Heat Will Kill You First

The Heat Will Kill You First: Life and Death on a Scorched Planet
by Jeff Goodell
400 pages, Little Brown and Company (2023)

Find a copy:

WorldCat (library)

I didn't read Jeff Goodell's The Heat Will Kill You First when it came out in 2023. That was a difficult year for me, and climate books felt like too much. When I spotted it at the library a few weeks ago, I knew I needed to read it and was ready for the weighty topic. It connects directly to my work on resilience and business planning, plus I've always been fascinated by weather (despite acing but absolutely hating earth science in 8th grade due to how it was taught). Reading it this August turned out to be perfectly yet uncomfortably timed.

Goodell doesn't treat heat as just another climate bullet point. He makes it visceral: relentless, patient, deadly. His starting point is the 2021 Pacific Northwest heat dome, when temperatures hit levels these regions had never planned for. Two years later, "never planned for" feels quaint. What used to be freakish is becoming routine.

The book follows heat's victims and survivors across continents. From farm workers to residents of housing projects without air conditioning or the power to run it. European cities buckling under unprecedented temperatures. Each story builds the same tragic case: heat kills quietly, and we're not ready for it. We guarantee the right to heat in winter, but cooling isn't as universal.

What struck me most was how invisible heat deaths remain. More people die from heat annually than from floods, hurricanes, or tornadoes combined, yet we barely track it. When someone dies in a flood, it's obvious. When someone's heart gives out during a heat wave, it gets filed under "natural causes." Goodell argues this isn't accidental.

Part of what makes heat such a silent killer is how deceptively normal it looks. A hurricane changes the sky, turns the world dark and violent. But 65 degrees and sunny looks exactly the same as 100 degrees and sunny from inside a window. The danger is invisible until you step outside, or the air conditioning fails.

Reading this in August, when I realized I'd barely spent any time outdoors because of the heat, his warnings felt immediate. I kept thinking about the cooling centers he describes. Here in once-temperate Westchester County, my public library often closes in the summer at 8 PM (if not earlier). What happens to vulnerable people when they must go back out into the heat? That's assuming they could reach the library safely in the first place, that a bus stop was nearby, that they didn't need to stant in the sun since shelters are scarce. That's when the real danger sets in. Cooling centers sound helpful, but do they actually solve anything for the people most at risk?

The book strikes a balance between urgency and realism. Goodell shows cities trying to adapt: appointing chief heat officers, naming heat waves like hurricanes. But these efforts feel scattered against the scale of what's coming. His message is clear: technology alone won't save us from this. We need different cities with more parks and green spaces, buildings designed for extreme heat, work schedules that account for dangerous temperatures, and different ways of caring for each other.

I kept marking passages that many others likely marked two years ago, but I was highlighting them as confirmations rather than warnings. Goodell's scenarios weren't predictions of some distant future; they've become our present reality.

This book confirmed what I've been seeing in my resilience work: we often choose to avoid change, so we plan for the wrong timeline and misjudge how quickly things are shifting. The extreme heat events Goodell describes aren't distant possibilities; they're this summer's headlines. Reading something published just two years ago felt like trying to catch up with a train that's already left the station. It's a necessary read, but it feels daunting.

I recommend The Heat Will Kill You First knowing it's not about the future, it's about today. The opportunity to prepare is still here, but it won't be for long.

Sources & Further Reading

World Meteorological Organization
Extreme heat impacts millions of people

The Poppy Fields

Fri, 25 Jul 2025 12:00:00 +0000

The Poppy Fields

The Poppy Fields
by Nikki Erlick
324 pages, William Morrow (2025)

Find a copy:

WorldCat (library)

What if you could sleep away the heaviest moments of your grief? That question lies at the heart of Nikki Erlick’s quietly haunting novel The Poppy Fields. At a remote California desert facility, patients enroll in an extended rest designed to quiet the sharp pain of loss. It sounds soothing and tempting, especially because the treatment is free. Yet every promise carries a price that only becomes clear upon waking. One in four patients emerge not only relieved of crippling sorrow but also emotionally detached from the person they mourned, their memories intact but the love and grief that gave them meaning reduced to an eerie calm.

Erlick introduces four strangers stranded by flight delays and united by a shared desperation to reach the treatment center. Ray, a Kansas City firefighter, offers seats in his last rental car to Ava, a reserved illustrator who harbors deep resentment toward her sister, and to PJ, her small dog. Sasha, an occupational therapist, rides along as she reels from her fiancé’s tragic death. Mile after dusty mile they swap stories of heartbreak and begin to find unexpected healing, forming bonds that surprise them all. Along the way Sky, unburdened by grief, joins in after a chance roadside encounter, her youthful energy providing moments of levity. Woven through this road trip is the story of the facility and its enigmatic founder. As stories of heartbreak give way to fragile camaraderie, the open highway becomes a path to unexpected healing.

Erlick’s pacing makes you crave delays so you can linger in these bonds. Revelations about the facility’s enigmatic founder deepen the mystery just as they arrive. The Poppy Fields is a moving tribute to the complexity of grief and our longing for relief. The characters feel vividly real and deeply relatable, and the ending satisfies without resorting to a sentimental wrap‑up. Erlick’s novel reminds us that grief cannot be erased nor ignored but must be integrated into our lives, and that the journey toward acceptance is often the most profound part of the healing process.

84 Charing Cross Road

Tue, 24 Jun 2025 12:00:00 +0000

84 Charing Cross Road

84 Charing Cross Road
by Helene Hanff
220 pages, Avon Books (1970)

Find a copy:

WorldCat (library)

This slim volume is a treat. It provides a glimpse into a world I can only read (and dream) about: post-war England and life as a single woman writing in Manhattan. I discovered it when the audiobook kept popping up in my searches, my curiosity finally got the better of me. With a spot for correspondence (even if I'm a pretty poor pen pal), I couldn't resist a book all about used books, set in both London and New York.

Hanff’s engaging exchange of letters, spanning over twenty years with Doel and the delightful team at Marks & Co., unfolds with wit and warmth. I was so captivated that I ended up devouring it in almost one sitting. It is a quick read. If you haven't read this yet, it's a great summer afternoon treat.

Superagency

Mon, 23 Jun 2025 12:00:00 +0000

Superagency

Superagency: What Could Possibly Go Right with Our AI Future
by Reid Hoffman and Greg Beato
288 pages, Authors Equity (2025)

Find a copy:

WorldCat (library)

Superagency offers a cautious and optimistic look into our AI future. Hoffman and Beato offer four main classifications to sort stances towards technology and specifically, AI. Doomers think only worst-case scenarios, many jobs will be lost. Gloomers are highly critical of both AI and Doomers; they are concerned with potential job losses and also in the loss of individual agency. By contrast, Zoomers think all the gains of AI far exceed the negatives; new and different jobs will be created. Finally, Bloomers, where the authors stand, are optimistic about AI’s promise. They welcome progress while acknowledging its complex challenges.

Superagency does not shy from pointing out challenges surrounding AI, however it does so through a Bloomer viewpoint. For example, how might the adoption of AI for mental health clinicians go right? Personally, I found this section a refreshing and interesting read amid reports of the massive failures of chatbots for mental health and amid concerns of LLMs providing misinformation. The authors identify different stages that clinicians can explore the use of AI. To begin, they can use AI to help with record creation and transcript generation; two tasks that are tedious and necessary. In the second stage, clinicians can use AI to assist in reviewing transcripts and provide some basic analysis to spot trends and adherence to therapies to flag for more personal detailed review. Finally, a clinical LLM can be trained on EBPs. Overall, it can help train more practitioners, and function as a support for them by aiding in managing a (potentially larger) case load more efficiently. Finally, it will allow many who are currently underserved access to necessary and affordable care.

Record scratch—how can this be good? Humans make mistakes every day. So how confident can we be in an LLM? How does AI earn that trust? One approach is regulation, though its exact shape remains undefined. Hoffman explores benchmarks and tests to evaluate model performance as well as tools such as the Chatbot Arena.

Another area in which AI has a rosy future is because we have to constantly learn new skills to keep up with new technologies to stay innovative. LLMs are useful for being infinitely patient with beginner mindset. They can help a learner get on board quickly, and unlike in person teachers, don’t mind if a query is set aside for hours (or days) to be returned to at another time.

Every new technology carries risks. Critics often call novel tools¹ dehumanizing and limiting. But they often end up democratizing and liberating. Jobs aren’t simply taken away, they transform into more creative, strategic roles.

If you’re eager to dive into a Bloomer’s hopeful vision for AI’s potential, Superagency offers clear and engaging insights. If you’re searching for bright examples of AI’s life-changing promise, this book will inspire and inform.

For example of a novel tool, see https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pQHX-SjgQvQ ↩︎

Ask More

Sun, 15 Jun 2025 12:00:00 +0000

Ask More

Ask More: The Power of Questions to Open Doors, Uncover Solutions, and Spark Change
by Frank Sesno
272 pages, AMACOM Books (2017)

Find a copy:

WorldCat (library)

Review at NetGalley →

Ask More by Frank Sesno takes what many regard as a routine journalistic step and turns it into something far more powerful. Questions become a creative superpower you can wield whether you’re pitching a client or at the dinner table with your teen. Rather than sticking to the familiar "who, what, when," Sesno shows how a single, well-timed question can spark fresh ideas, surface hidden truths, or anchor a conversation in genuine connection.

Through shared stories of focused on the questions: a son navigating the tender, unspoken terrain of a dying parent; a scientist racing to decode an emerging virus; a physician probing the subtext of a one-word reply to "How are you feeling today?", Sesno teases out the many archetypes of inquiry, a few include: diagnostic probes, developmental queries, strategic prompts, mission-focused questions, and legacy-shaping conversations. These help us craft stories with enduring impact.

What turns these insights into a masterclass is Sesno’s reminder that to ask, one needs to listen. The stories share how a brainstorming session can turn toward unexpected gold, when embracing silence is the most revealing tool, and ways to follow up without hijacking the conversation flow. Sesno provides a summary of question types, however, this is not a script that one follows like a puppet. These are tools for a variety of contexts, from refining a business model to debriefing a campus visit with your child.

Ask More is a reminder that our biggest breakthroughs and richest connections often begin with a single question.