Read With Us Lounge: 7/13/26

In keeping with the RWU Lounge motto (No Rules, Just Fun), I'd like to talk about childhood favorites today, not just for children.

Recently, I relistened to Charlotte's Web, narrated by E. B. White himself. If you've never heard it, it's a treasure. His quiet, unhurried voice feels exactly right for the story, gentle, warm, and completely without fuss. I'd forgotten how much emotion he can convey with the simplest sentences.

Then Kat mentioned reading The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane, which reminded me how much I've always loved Kate DiCamillo. Before long, I was looking up some old favorites, Because of Winn-Dixie and The Tale of Despereaux, along with several I'd somehow never gotten around to reading: The Magician's Elephant, The Tiger Rising, The Puppets of Spelhorst, and Lost Evangeline.

As I read interviews with DiCamillo, trying to better understand what it was about her writing that I (and so many others ) are drawn to, I came across a quote that stopped me in my tracks. Speaking to the Orlando Sentinel, she explained that she always tries to leave room for the reader to read between the lines. She said she has tried to emulate E. B. White:

"He's using the same words we're all using. It must be that stripped-away quality, his heart is resting more on each word, and that's what I'm always trying to do."

The moment I read those words, something clicked.

I've often wondered why E. B. White and Kate DiCamillo feel so similar to me, even though they're writing decades apart. This quote explained it perfectly. Neither writer relies on elaborate language or flashy storytelling. Instead, they trust ordinary words to carry extraordinary feelings. They leave space for the reader. They never tell us exactly what to think or feel; they invite us there instead.

Maybe that's one reason so many children's books become lifelong companions. The best ones appeal to both children and adults. They're for anyone willing to approach them with an open heart. They ask big questions about love, loss, friendship, courage, loneliness, hope, and what it means to be kind. We simply hear different answers at different ages. The best children's books explore universal themes with remarkable clarity and without unnecessary cynicism. Rereading them as adults often reveals layers of wisdom and craftsmanship that we were too young to appreciate the first time. That's why I'm rereading some of them now.

So today I'm curious:

• Have you revisited a favorite from childhood recently? Did it hold up? Did it surprise you? Did it horrify you (like I just felt when I reread The Tale of Desperaux)?

• Have you discovered a children's or young adult novel as an adult and wondered where it had been all your life? 

• Or maybe you've found that children's literature is best read by children. I'd love to know what your experience has been. 

Be sure and visit Kym and Carole to see what they're talking about today.   

 

Books on Thursday

I read three books this week and they each provided me with something else to focus on during a week of oppressive and sweltering heat and humidity. 

 

 

Celestial Lights is less a novel about space exploration than it is about the emotional gravity that pulls us back to the people and moments that shape our lives. Although the story follows astronaut Oliver Ines from his birth on the day the Challenger disaster shocked the world to his selection for a groundbreaking mission to Europa, its real focus is memory, family, ambition, and the cost of pursuing extraordinary dreams.

Cecile Pin writes with remarkable elegance. The novel moves fluidly between Ollie's childhood, his naval career, his marriage, fatherhood, and the high-stakes mission that forces him to confront the choices he's made. The shifts in time mirror the way memory works, and while they occasionally left me wishing for a stronger sense of forward momentum, they also create a rich portrait of a life rather than simply a sequence of events.

Readers expecting a fast-paced science fiction adventure may be surprised. The space mission provides the framework, but this is ultimately a quiet, introspective literary novel. The technology and exploration are fascinating, yet they remain secondary to Ollie's inner life and the relationships he struggles to sustain. Pin asks compelling questions about what we owe our families, what we owe ourselves, and whether great achievement inevitably comes with personal sacrifice. The novel's reflective tone and beautiful prose kept me invested until the end. The ending, in particular, lingers long after the final page, inviting readers to consider the fragile balance between reaching for the stars and remaining grounded by the people we love.

Thoughtful, beautifully written, and quietly moving, Celestial Lights is an excellent four-star choice for readers who enjoy literary fiction that happens to take place against the backdrop of space exploration. Thanks for the recommendation, Kat! 

I was never the ideal reader for American Fantasy. I've never taken a cruise nor ever been a fan of boy bands, so I definitely wasn't the target audience for this story.

Emma Straub does captures the nostalgia surrounding the music and celebrity crushes of adolescence. I could (almost) understand why thousands of women would board a themed cruise to relive a happier, simpler time in their lives, even if I couldn't personally relate. The novel explores what happens when middle age collides with teenage dreams, asking whether it's ever too late to reconnect with the person you used to be.

One line that especially stood out to me was, "On board this ship, they were always girls." It neatly sums up the atmosphere of the cruise, where adult responsibilities are temporarily set aside in favor of youthful excitement and fantasy. That may have made for a fun long weekend for the passengers, but I found it less enjoyable to spend an entire novel immersed in that world.  There are thoughtful observations about aging, divorce, friendship, and the ways nostalgia can both comfort and mislead us. Annie is a likable protagonist, and I appreciated her halting journey toward rediscovering herself. Still, I never became invested in the cruise itself or the fantasy surrounding the band, especially because the members of the band didn't really want to be there either. 

Readers who fondly remember the boy-band era and stories fueled by nostalgia will probably find much more to enjoy here than I did, but it was still three stars. For me, it was an entertaining enough read with flashes of Emma Straub's warmth and insight, but one that ultimately left me feeling more like an observer than a participant. Thanks for the recommendation, Carole! 

 

Charlotte's Web was as good (or maybe even better) than it was the first three or four times I read it. Hearing E.B. White himself narrate the audiobook is always comforting, no matter how bad things get. 

 

Now I'd love to know what you're reading!   

 

 

 

Unraveled Wednesday: 7/8/26

I’m happy to join Kat and the Unravelers today with (you guessed it) kitchen towels. Now there are two of them. The blue one is done (but not washed yet).

 I've cast on for the green one and it's in progress. 

I still have quite a ways to go on the green one, but it really is comfortable summer knitting. I may even finish it by next week (and then cast on yet another one). 

 

 

What are you making this Wednesday in July? 

Read With Us Lounge: 7/6/26

 

Welcome back to the Read With us Lounge! Today Kym, Carole, and I are all talking about the same topic: Do you finish every book you begin? Or are you comfortable setting a book aside?

When we were planning the RWU Lounge topics, I thought I knew exactly where I stood with this one. Life is too short, there are too many wonderful books waiting to be read, and if a book isn't working, why not move on?

Then last week happened.

I checked out Land by Maggie O'Farrell, and from the very first pages I was completely under its spell. The novel opens with a father and son, Tomás and Liam respectively, working for the British Ordnance Survey in Ireland, ten or fifteen years after the Great Hunger. They are recording the empty homes and graveyards scarred by the famine. 

I quickly realized that the Great Hunger was so much more than the simple "potato famine" I learned about in school. The history felt richer, sadder, and far more complicated than I had ever understood. I couldn't read fast enough, but then I ran into trouble.

The story shifts into a family saga, and the hardships become relentless. Page after page, there seemed to be no relief, and it felt as if it had been written by a different author. At first I kept telling myself to push through. Surely my patience would be rewarded and it would all come together somehow. 

But then I noticed something. I wasn't looking forward to picking the book up each evening. In fact, I was actively dreading it. That was when I knew it was time to return the library book without finishing it. And I felt terrible.

Part of that was because I admire Maggie O'Farrell so much. I loved Hamnet, and I thoroughly enjoyed The Marriage Portrait. She's an author whose work I genuinely look forward to reading. Her prose is exquisite and evocative, her characters feel completely alive, and she always seems to have something meaningful to say.

So this wasn't a matter of disliking the writing or deciding an author wasn't for me. It was almost the opposite. I respected the book so much that setting it aside felt like giving up on something important. Maybe there was something wrong with me as a reader or I had missed some crucial details.

This experience made me realize that deciding not to finish a book isn't always as simple as I had thought. Sometimes the decision is easy. Sometimes it isn't. Sometimes you stop because a book isn't good. Other times you stop because it's too heavy for where you are right now, or because it's asking something of you that you simply can't give. But whatever the reason, I still believe that readers shouldn't feel obligated to finish every book they begin.

But now I understand that choosing to DNF a book can come with a surprising amount of guilt, especially when it's written by an author you deeply admire, and especially when it's a book you were certain you were going to love. So I'm curious.

Have you ever stopped reading a book that you actually thought was excellent? Have you ever returned a book unfinished, not because it was poorly written, but because it simply wasn't the right book for you at that moment? Or do you make a concerted effort to finish almost every book you begin?

I'd love to hear your stories!

Be sure to check in with Kym and Carole to see what they have to say about finishing what you start.  

Books on Thursday

I read two ARCs this week, one was so-so and one was excellent. 

I read Hollow Bones because Jodi Picoult has often been a reliable choice when I’m in the mood for a fast-moving, issue-driven novel. This one certainly has no shortage of big topics: postpartum psychosis, COVID, 9/11, emergency preparedness, natural disasters, child loss, abuse, early maternal loss, and even a May-December romance. Each of those subjects could be compelling on its own, and several could have carried an entire novel.

For me, though, that was also the book’s biggest weakness. As the story unfolded, it began to feel like too many issues were competing for space on the page. Rather than building toward a cohesive emotional core, the narrative kept introducing another major theme, another trauma, another crisis. I found myself wishing the book had narrowed its focus and gone deeper into fewer storylines.

The discussion of postpartum psychosis was important and timely, and I appreciated Picoult bringing attention to a condition that is often misunderstood and misdiagnosed. However, I’m not convinced this was the strongest vehicle for exploring it. Because the novel was juggling so many other plot threads, that aspect of the story didn’t land with the depth and clarity I had hoped for.

That said, this is still very much a typical Jodi Picoult novel: readable, emotionally charged, well-researched, and designed to spark discussion. The pages move quickly, and I can easily imagine many readers becoming invested in Molly’s story and the ethical questions the book raises.

Overall this was three stars for me. Fans of her signature blend of family drama, social issues, and moral dilemmas will most likely enjoy it much more than I did.

Thank you to NetGalley and Ballantine Books for providing me with a copy of the book. It will be published on September 15, 2026. 

Chris Bohjalian has a gift for taking a single catastrophic moment and exploring the shockwaves that ripple outward, and The Amateur is one of his strongest character studies.

The novel opens with an accident so horrifying that it's impossible to look away: eighteen-year-old golf prodigy Mira Winston hits a practice ball through a damaged net, killing a teenage caddy. From there, the story becomes part courtroom drama, part mystery, but mostly an examination of guilt, privilege, responsibility, and the stories we tell ourselves about the people involved in tragedy.

What impressed me most was Bohjalian's portrayal of Mira. He (as a 63-year-old male) does an excellent job writing an eighteen-year-old female golf prodigy. Mira is not an especially likable character; she's impulsive, selfish at times, and makes some truly questionable decisions but she never felt like a caricature of a spoiled rich girl. Instead, she came across to me as a complicated young woman who has had remarkably poor role models and very little meaningful guidance. That complexity made me care about what happened to her, even when I didn't approve of her choices.

I also appreciated that you don't have to play golf (or even understand the game, as I certainly don't) to become completely immersed in the story. Bohjalian explains just enough without ever bogging the narrative down, and the country club setting becomes its own fascinating world.

Although there's a trial and an intriguing mystery surrounding the damaged practice net, I found myself reading less for the "big reveal" and more because I wanted to know what would become of Mira. These days, surprise endings often feel overhyped, and for me, the emotional journey mattered far more than uncovering every last secret.

The ending and especially the epilogue elevate the novel even further, forcing readers to reconsider who the real villains are. Was it recklessness? Negligence? Privilege? The adults who failed Mira? Or is assigning blame itself more complicated than we'd like it to be? Bohjalian leaves readers with questions rather than easy answers, and I found that far more satisfying.

"You took advantage of my disadvantage." ~ Lolita, Vladimir Nabokov

A compelling, nuanced novel about one terrible swing of a golf club and the lives forever altered by it. This was 4.5 stars for me, rounded up. Thank you to Edelweiss and Doubleday for providing me with a copy of this book. It will be published on August 4, 2026.

 

Now I'd love to know what you're reading!  

Unraveled Wednesday: 7/1/26

I’m happy to join Kat and the Unravelers today with more of the kitchen towel. I know it's a little boring to keep showing you the same old photos of it, so this week I also have some pictures of the yarn colors I have to choose from for the next one. I'm not sure if I'll use the same pattern or try a different one, but I am getting just a tiny bit tired of knitting this one. 

I'm just past the stockinette strip on the end of the towel and now I only have to knit 28 more rows before I'm done with this towel.

These are the other colors I've got in worsted cotton yarn, so I think I'll cast on for a green one as soon as I finish the first one. This really is perfect knitting for the far-too-hot weather we're having, so the next cast on will probably be happening later today.  

What are you making this first Wednesday in July? (Tempus fugit!)

Read With Us: It's a New Book!

And it's a good one!

We're thrilled to announce the Read With Us summer selection: John of John by Douglas Stuart.

Sometimes our Read With Us books become favorites. Sometimes they challenge me. Sometimes they leave me thinking for days after I've finished the last page. I'm hoping our next selection will do exactly that for you, too.

If Stuart's name sounds familiar, it's because he won the Booker Prize for Shuggie Bain and followed it with Young Mungo, both of which we've read. His novels are known for unforgettable characters, beautiful writing, and enormous compassion for people who are often overlooked.

At its heart, John of John asks questions about family, identity, love, and the complicated ways we inherit both strengths and wounds from the people who came before us. Stuart has a remarkable ability to write characters who feel completely real, flawed, vulnerable, funny, and resilient all at once. Even when difficult things happen, there's a generosity in his writing that keeps me turning the pages. 

At first glance, this may not seem like the kind of book that announces itself with a big, dramatic premise. Instead, it invites us into the lives of some ordinary men and asks us to pay close attention, to memory, family, identity, faith, the stories we inherit about ourselves, and what it means to become your own person.  

Whether this book becomes a new favorite or simply gives you something interesting to think about, I hope you'll bring your thoughts to our Zoom discussion. I'm always curious to hear what everyone thinks, because you almost always see things in different and interesting ways.

The hardcover and audiobook versions have a manageable hold queue at my libraries, so I hope that is also the case for you. I started listening to the audiobook, narrated by Lorne Macfadyen in a wonderful (but still understandable brogue) but decided that I also needed to read it with my eyes, so I bought the Kindle version for $14.99.  

Kym, Carole, and I will be talking about the book, giving additional information, and doing promotional posts throughout July. Discussion day for John of John is scheduled for Tuesday, September 15, 2026 at 7:00 pm Eastern time, so mark your calendars. We'll ask questions on our blogs that day and then host the always educational and illuminating Zoom discussion. I think this is my favorite Douglas Stuart novel so far, and one that is also very discussable, so I hope you'll Read With Us!