Tag Archives: Books

The Folio – What I Read Mid-March Through April 2024

It’s All About the Transformation!

Oh, the twitchy weirdness of not blasting this out the second March ended. Of course, I’m the only weirdo policing the time boundaries of my own monthly book roundups. What can I say? I like the snap of “March Reads” better than the soggy “What I Read March Through Mid-April 2024.” 

But here we are, and this is how it’s going to be for a while and now I’m uniquely positioned as a mid-month book yammerer. 

Market niches, folks.

In the last five weeks or so, I’ve completed seven books.

Ahem.

I was set to roll out an unremarkable apologia, a grand harangue about life and reading and such.

Mad busy, that’s me.

A grand self-flogging, agonizing about feeling like a fraud for not being able to “keep up.” As if I’m somehow a slacker in the sacred arts of wordcraft and self-betterment.

I might have even gifted you this.

Then I’d pivot, launch a counter-offensive on myself, get all gooey about the bliss of slow reading and how my own calendar is stuffed to the gills and my body is drafting strike plans.

I had all sides of this covered and an abundance of gems like “my relationship with reading has evolved” and “joy of discovery.” Flowcharts, highfalutin words, and not a few huffs and puffs.

But there’s something to be said for not doing that.

Let’s just get to the books in some particular order or other:

These Precious Days by Ann Patchett

Ann Patchett excels at weaving tales loosely enough to let them breathe but tightly enough to make them work. Patchett’s explorations of love, loss, and friendship are patient, never slow. She once again pulls, surgically, from the everyday and it is glorious to look at how life squiggles under her microscope

I loved “Three Fathers” (which you can read here). There was a section about one of the fathers whose writing talent, perhaps, did not rise to the level of his eagerness, his effort, or his output. It was a good reminder to her (and me) that when we ask people to read our work, we ask them to give us their time. And time is a gift sometimes more precious than feedback.

I adored “A Talk to the Association of Graduate School Deans in the Humanities,” because it was about life in/of the Humanities. Bookstore Ownership! Theater Attendance! Staged readings of Our Town in the living room. Reading! Community! Oh, how I want all of that. Next, life, I suppose.

“Contrary to popular belief, love does not require understanding in order to thrive.” — Ann Patchett


The Best American Essays 2022, Alexander Chee Editor)

This collection is a child of the pandemic. Each essay, no matter the theme, has an undercurrent of wearing a path in the carpet from pacing back and forth. The collection prowls and lies in wait. 

As with any anthology, you will love some pieces more than others, but trust me, something will snag you, whether you’re reading as a fan or a scribe. Sublime craftsmanship. 

From Chee’s introduction on sense memories and writing: “Was the writing wet? Could you feel the rain, the blood, the tears?” 

Standouts for me were “Abusement,” “Ghosts,” and “China Brain.”


You’ve Got a Book in You by Elizabeth Sims

Every month I try to read a craft book or two. Sometimes I come across texts that are lush and gorgeous. Other times I come across things that are practical and fresh. This is more the latter, but there are dabs of the former.

I’m adding this to my I-only-need-to-lean-over-and-grab-it shelf. 

It’s full of solid advice without being simplistic, repetitive, or useless. 

It’s a reminder that we write because we love it. We may not love it all the time, but we need to commit to that love every time.

It’s “LET’S GOOOO!” across 280 pages.

This one hits at the right time. I think a year or so ago, when I thought all was well with my first novel, I’d have scoffed a little. Now I realize what a lifeline it is.

 I especially like her sections on stormwriting.

“Open it up, write deeper, write long, write relaxed, write loose. And never ever worry about your finished product in the midst of all this messy glory.” — Elizabeth Sims


The Witches are Coming by Lindy West

If you loved Shrill, you may very well love this, even though it covers some of the same territory. That’s probably the point, though. Have things really improved in the world since then? Nope.

I laughed and then didn’t – shouldn’t things be better? Especially if we can name them? Are we naming them correctly?

West is brilliant and the through-line in this book is similarly brilliant. She makes it look easy. It is not easy. That’s her gift. 

“So fine, if you insist. This is a witch hunt. We’re witches, and we’re hunting you.” — Lindy West


The Book of Fire by Christy Lefteri

I won this book in a Goodreads Giveaway, and wrote a longer review here, but for the purposes of this blog, here is a bit of that about this gorgeous book:

The novel is a study of grief, trauma, and guilt. The narrative unfolds in two timelines: one during the fire and the other weeks after. Third-person narration in one timeline adds an honest and heartbreaking layer of detachment. 


Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead by Olga Tokarczuk

This is an eco-murder mystery set in a Polish village. I almost quit after reading the first quarter. It’s…a little slow and I am feeling impatient these days. Thank goodness I didn’t quit. 

The crafting of language, especially as this is a translation – and a deft one – kept me riveted. 

Deep respect to translator Antonia Lloyd-Jones.

The main character’s devotion to Blake works nicely in this book that is a warning about the natural world getting revenge upon us all. 

This is apparently a movie or something, although the BBC could have done a hell of a series. Then PBS could have found a home for it nestled amongst its other weird and cozy mystery series.

It is a genre-busting tale told by a character in every sense of the word, where we recognize the cruelty of these men in how they treat her, an aging woman, and how they treat animals in the world around them. So please read this and can we talk about how older women in society are treated? THANK YOU!


Cut and Run by Ben Blacker and Ben Acker

ANY BOOK WITH AN UNWITTING ORGAN DONOR IS FUNNY, RIGHT?

Possibly not, but this one is. Available exclusively as an audiobook on Audible, it nails the art of snappy banter and clever meta-commentary. The cast is made up of the finest in the business. *Waves to Ed Begley Jr.*


What’s been moved to your “Finished” pile?

2018 — Rise, Shine, and Toss the Uns

That’s the bracelet I wore every day I worked this past year. Every day. You can’t look at something every day and not have it sear into your soul, good bad or otherwise. I chose that word because 2017 was a shitshow and I could have chosen to splash around in a wading pool of my own tears, or I could rise.

I refocused and recommitted. I did the work. (I say that unapologetically because I was just completely blown away by Shondra Rhimes’s Year of Yes [more on that later] and we all should be bold if we’ve done the work. ) Continue reading 2018 — Rise, Shine, and Toss the Uns

It’s Release Day for So Glad They Told Me!!

Here is the beautiful cover!

Writing is a lot like motherhood. It’s terrifying. So many other people seem to do it effortlessly, but in corners we whisper to one another that, between flashes of inspiration, it’s hard. If you are honest, if you are digging down and trying your best, you’re completely vulnerable.

In both writing and motherhood, the final product is never finished, it is only surrendered.

In a world where motherhood is dismissed, mocked, and marginalized, it’s books like So Glad They Told Me: Women Get Real About Motherhood that bring motherhood and the conversations surrounding it to the proper place: A place of compassion, vulnerability, bravery, unmooring, and connection. A lot of my own experiences these past eight years of being a parent have involved wrestling with the sense that perhaps I’m not doing this right, tentatively reaching out to other parents to see what their experiences have been, and wondering if I am alone.

This wonderful anthology affirms that indeed, we are not alone in this world of contradictions that is parenting. And I am not alone in writing about my experiences.

I have skimmed this amazing book. I am now going back and savoring every last essay. Every single one is brave. Every single one is true. Every single one is a facet of motherhood that deserves to be heard.

We are all, whether parenting or writing, exposing ourselves. We’re raw. We’re scared sometimes. But we’re all pushing past that to the joy of connection.

My own essay, Flood, took eighteen drafts. Yes. EIGHTEEN. It started as three separate essays, all humorous, none quite right, that eventually needed to be woven together carefully. With each draft, I stripped away the humor and the self-deprecation until I was left with what it was supposed to be: A story of loss, heartache, and renewal. A story of fluidity.

It was the hardest thing I’ve ever written, and it is the piece that I will always cherish as a special offspring of mine. It was the one I was most worried about sending out into the world. It was the sensitive one. It was the one I wasn’t sure could handle the pressure. And I should have trusted because it has exceeded my expectations and taking me to places I never thought I could go.

The book unflinchingly explores so many aspects of motherhood: from delivery to empty nest-hood. From adoption to loss. From grief to triumph. It bravely touches on how becoming Mom can be one of the most confounding confusing labels in addition to being one of the most rewarding obviously. It does not pull punches. It is beautiful and you can order it here: