Books on Thursday

I read several books this week. It was a good week for reading, given our 90 degrees plus weather combined with oppressive humidity. 

I really liked the premise of The Treasure House. A single mother and her young daughter buying a neglected house overflowing with decades of accumulated belongings has all the ingredients for a cozy, emotionally satisfying story. Watching someone slowly reclaim both a home and a life can make for a compelling read.

For me, though, the execution made it clear that I'm probably not the target audience. This is a perfectly pleasant romance, but many of the obstacles are resolved so easily that the story never felt especially grounded. Zoe sees the house, makes one phone call to the owner, another to the bank, and suddenly she's a homeowner. The many challenges of rehabilitating a rundown house are similarly smoothed over with the help of an endlessly supportive circle of friends and neighbors. Even major jobs, like putting up storm windows during a coastal storm, seem to come together with surprising ease.

The romance was equally predictable. As soon as the somewhat taciturn owner of Jake's Hardware and Lobster Shack appeared, it was obvious where that storyline was headed. Predictability isn't necessarily a flaw. Sometimes it's exactly what you're looking for in a comfort read, but there weren't many surprises along the way.

I did enjoy the small mystery surrounding the previous owner, Marly, and the parallels between her life and Zoe's added some emotional depth. Florence was also a charming presence, bringing warmth and optimism to the story.

Overall, The Treasure House is an easy, feel-good novel that offers a comforting escape. While I wanted a little more realism and complexity in both the home renovation and the relationships, readers looking for a cozy romance with a hopeful message and a satisfying happy ending will likely find plenty to enjoy and a welcome respite from the news. Three stars.

Thank you to NetGalley and Dell for providing me with a copy of the book. It will be published on September 1, 2026. There is a Goodreads giveaway for this book if you are interested. 

 

This book was just not meant for me in so many ways.

I went into Heather hoping that its setting in the New Jersey Pine Barrens would make this mystery especially appealing. Unfortunately, the setting wasn’t enough to overcome the many elements that I tend to struggle with as a reader. There are multiple storylines, a nonlinear timeline, a mixture of second- and third-person narration, a protagonist who often seemed frustratingly incompetent, and a web of relationships so confusing that I found myself trying to construct a family tree just to keep everyone straight.

More troubling for me was the repeated failure of the adults in this community to protect the young women at the center of the story. Police officers, parents, teachers, and other authority figures repeatedly miss or fail to act on things that seem like they should have raised serious red flags. I kept wondering how so many adults could fail these girls so thoroughly and so repeatedly.

I can appreciate what Caitlin Mullen was attempting to explore: how difficult it can be to know the truth about another person's life, how memory and perspective shape our understanding of the past, and how a community can carry the consequences of long-buried secrets. There are some genuinely disturbing and heartbreaking ideas here.

But as a reading experience, I found Heather confusing rather than compelling. The structural choices that may work beautifully for other readers mostly kept me at a distance from the characters and the mystery. I wanted to enjoy this one, mainly because of the Pine Barrens setting, but unfortunately the setting couldn't make up for the rest of the book for me. Two and a half stars.

I picked up Tough Cases after hearing one of the editors, Gregory Mize, interviewed on NPR, and the book turned out to be even more compelling than I expected.

Most of us encounter famous court cases only through headlines or the final ruling. Tough Cases shifts the focus from the courtroom drama to the judge's chambers, where the real burden of decision-making takes place. Each chapter is written by the judge who presided over a particularly difficult case, explaining not only the legal reasoning but also the human weight of making decisions that can alter lives forever.

I was familiar with several of the high-profile cases, including those involving Elián González, Terri Schiavo, and Scooter Libby, but I had never really considered the painstaking thought process behind the rulings. The essays do an excellent job of explaining how judges balance precedent, statutory law, constitutional principles, and compassion while recognizing that there may be no outcome that satisfies everyone. The writing is remarkably accessible, making complex legal issues understandable without talking down to readers who don't have a legal background.

One of the book's greatest strengths is that it humanizes judges without turning them into heroes or villains. They come across as thoughtful people wrestling with imperfect facts, competing legal obligations, and the knowledge that every decision will profoundly affect someone's life.

Reading this made me realize how much I enjoy this kind of behind-the-scenes legal history. I would eagerly read a similar collection explaining the judicial reasoning behind landmark Supreme Court decisions such as Citizens United v. Federal Election Commission or Dobbs v. Jackson Women's Health Organization. Regardless of where readers stand on those cases, understanding how judges work through difficult constitutional questions in plain language would make for fascinating reading.

If you enjoy legal nonfiction, true courtroom stories, or simply want a better understanding of what judges actually do beyond issuing rulings, Tough Cases is an engaging and enlightening collection. It reminded me that the law is rarely as simple as it appears from the outside, and that some of the hardest work in our justice system happens long before a verdict is announced. Four stars. 

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

 

Unraveled Wednesday: 8/12/26

I’m happy to join Kat and the Unravelers today with a good start on the newest dish towel.

There is nothing difficult about this pattern, but it just might be the one that staves off dementia for me for another year or two. It's a bunch of seed stitch and I have to really pay attention when I'm working on the purl side so I keep the knits and purls straight.

 

But just to keep things interesting, I started the same pattern in dark purple Cotlin.

 

 

I haven't even gotten to the first row of nested squares yet, but I've been in a purple mood ever since the yarn arrived and hopefully I'll be able to keep my knits and purls straight. 

 

What are you making this Wednesday in August? 

 

Ravelry links:

 

Nested Squares Kitchen Towel 

Read With Us Lounge: 8/10/26

 

Lately, I've noticed something about my reading.

When I finish a book, I don't necessarily want to be devastated. I don't need shocking plot twists, morally bankrupt characters, or another reminder that people can be greedy, corrupt, and dishonest. I can get all of that and more evil by reading the news for about thirty seconds.

Instead, I've found myself gravitating toward books that leave me feeling ... better. Not because they're saccharine or unrealistic, but because they remind me that kindness still exists. That decency matters. That ordinary people can choose compassion and doing the right thing over selfishness.

I'm talking about books with good and honorable characters. Not perfect characters. Those are usually boring. I mean people who make mistakes, struggle, doubt themselves, and sometimes fail, but who keep trying to do the right thing anyway. The kind of characters who make you think, I wish this person lived next door and I wish I knew them in real life.

There's something deeply comforting and even restorative about spending a few hundred pages with people who treat one another with generosity, loyalty, humor, or quiet courage. Their worlds may still contain grief, disappointment, or hardship, but the stories never leave me feeling cynical. Instead, they remind me that goodness hasn't disappeared.

Maybe that's why many of us return again and again to authors like Anne Tyler, James Herriot, or Fredrik Backman. Their books don't pretend life is easy. They simply insist that even difficult lives can be filled with grace, forgiveness, friendship, and small acts of kindness. These stories don't ignore reality; they balance it.

Some books that have given me this feeling include The Shell Seekers, All Creatures Great and Small, The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society, and A Man Called Ove. None of them pretend life is perfect. They all contain loss, disappointment, and hardship. But they also remind me that integrity, kindness, and generosity are still worth celebrating, and sometimes that's exactly the kind of story I need.

Sometimes I think we underestimate the value of hope in literature. We praise books that challenge us or break our hearts, and they certainly have their place. But I also think there's real literary merit in a novel that quietly restores your faith in people. In a world that often feels loud, angry, and exhausting, reading can become more than entertainment. It can be a way of reminding ourselves of the kind of people we want to be and the kind of world we'd like to help create.

So my question this week is a simple one:

What book(s) left you happier than when you started?

Not because everything worked out perfectly. Not because it wrapped everything up with a neat little bow. But because spending time with those characters made you feel just a little more hopeful about humanity. I'd love to add a few more of those books to my ever-growing TBR pile.

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Thank you for your participation in the RWU Lounge. We we weren't exactly sure if our "anti-book bingo" idea would work but you have helped to make it a rousing success with your thoughtful comments and discussion, no matter what the topic was. As a small token of our appreciation, we'd love to send you a thank-you gift. If you're comfortable sharing your mailing address, please send it to me via email (highlyreasonableATgmailDOTcom) and we'll get your parting gift on its way in a bit. Thanks again; we really appreciate your commitment to our "No Rules. Just Fun!" philosophy.

Books on Thursday

I read a couple of books this week. They were both 3.5 stars which normally makes me think "meh", but both of these had some interesting things going on.

I'm glad I took a chance on this one. I don't often choose from the free monthly Amazon First Reads selections because, in my experience, you tend to get what you pay for. This time, though, I decided to give I've Got a New Complaint a try, and it turned out to be a pleasant surprise.

Laurie Notaro's (no relation to Tig) collection of essays captures the strange stage of life where you're juggling aging parents, your own aches and pains, and the realization that you have somehow become the adult in every situation. Her observations are often exaggerated for comedic effect, but they're rooted in experiences that will feel familiar to many readers.

As with most essay collections, some pieces landed better than others. A few had me smiling more than laughing out loud, while others showcased Notaro's wonderfully dry, self-deprecating wit. I especially enjoyed her sharp sense of humor and the way she finds comedy in everything from office politics to getting older and all the indignities that come with it.

The biggest compliment I can give I've Got a New Complaint is that it made me want to read more of Laurie Notaro's work. If her other books have the same blend of wit, honesty, and humor, I'll happily pick up another one. Three and a half stars.

 

I picked up Seek Immediate Shelter after spotting it on President Obama's summer reading list and the premise immediately grabbed me. A false ballistic missile alert sends an entire Massachusetts town into crisis, and for a few terrifying minutes everyone believes they're living their final moments. What follows isn't so much a thriller as a series of interconnected character studies exploring what people reveal about themselves when they think there's no tomorrow.

The novel is structured as a collection of vignettes, with each chapter focusing on a different person affected by the alert. Some stories resonated with me more than others, but together they create an interesting portrait of a community and the complicated relationships that exist beneath everyday life. Vincent Yu does a thoughtful job showing how one brief moment of panic can expose years of buried resentments, regrets, and unspoken feelings.

I found myself imagining what I would do if I received a message like that. One of the characters, Nina, uses what she believes are her last moments to send a cruel text to her daughter. I simply couldn't relate to that reaction. I'd like to think my instinct would be to call or text my own kids to tell them I loved them and hope for the best. That contrast made me reflect on the choices the characters make and what those choices say about them.

While I appreciated the novel's ambition and its exploration of second chances, the vignette format kept me from becoming deeply invested in many of the characters before moving on to the next perspective. A few storylines lingered with me long after I finished, while others felt less fully developed.

Overall, this is a thoughtful and compassionate debut that asks compelling questions about love, regret, forgiveness, and what truly matters when we believe time has run out. It didn't completely win me over emotionally, but it certainly gave me plenty to think about, and I'll be interested to see what Vincent Yu writes next. Three and a half stars, but I think it would be absolutely wonderful to talk about books with Obama!

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

Unraveled Wednesday: 8/5/26

I’m happy to join Kat and the Unravelers today with a third completed dish towel. Now the stack I envisioned gifting to Ryan is real.

I still haven't washed them but will do that sometime in the near future. They're fairly large, 17' x 27", but I know they'll shrink in the dryer. I just don't know how much yet. 

It's still hot and rainy so I won't be sitting outside stitching a badger anytime soon. Instead I've just cast on for another dish towel, but using a different yarn and pattern. Nested Squares in CotLin is an easy pattern with a nice yarn and should keep me happily knitting dish towels for another month or so. I thought I ordered the yarn in a deep purple, but this Sagebrush doesn't look the least bit purple. I might have to remedy that.    

What are you making this first Wednesday in August? 

Read With Us Lounge: 8/3/26

One of the main ideas behind the Read With Us Lounge has been that reading should bring us more freedom, not more rules.

Many of us carry around an invisible list of "shoulds" when it comes to reading. We should finish every book we start. We should read the classics. We should read books in order. We should read the book before watching the movie. We should always start at page one and never, ever peek at the ending. You don't write in your books and you never dog-ear pages. Audiobooks don't count as "real" reading. 

But where did all those rules come from? And more importantly ... do they actually make us happier readers?

I've known people who read the last chapter first. At first, that sounded completely wrong to me. Wouldn't it spoil the whole book? Then I heard someone explain that knowing the ending allows them to relax and enjoy the journey. Instead of wondering what will happen, they pay attention to how the author gets there. They notice the breadcrumbs, the small moments, the clever turns of phrase that might otherwise be overlooked. I don't personally read that way, but I understand the appeal now.

I'm not about to make more reading rules, but I hereby declare that yes, audiobooks are real reading (for me, anyway.) I think that many audiobooks bring me one step closer to a story, removing the middleman of paper or a screen. 

Whether you're turning pages or listening while driving, walking, knitting, folding laundry, or pulling weeds in the garden, you're still experiencing the author's story. You're meeting the characters, following the plot, laughing, wondering, learning, and sometimes crying. The words are reaching you through your ears instead of your eyes, but they are still the author's words. In fact, stories were spoken long before they were printed. Listening isn't a lesser form of reading; it connects us to one of humanity's oldest traditions.

Once you start questioning one reading rule, it's amazing how many others begin to fall away.

Maybe you like to read several books at once because your mood changes from day to day. Maybe you reread favorite books every few years because they become different books as you become a different reader. Maybe you skip long descriptions, read mysteries only after someone has spoiled the ending, abandon books that aren't working, or spend an entire summer reading nothing but memoirs. None of those habits make you a "bad" reader. They simply make you your kind of reader.

That's one of the reasons we wanted this group to exist. Not to tell us what we should be reading or how we should be reading it, but to remind us that there are countless ways to build a reading life. The goal isn't to read the "right" books or the "right" way. I think it's to keep reading in ways that make us curious, joyful, comforted, challenged, or simply happy to pick up the next book.

So this week, I'm curious...

What's one reading "rule" you've broken? How did it affect your reading life?

Please share your reading quirks. I have a feeling many of us may discover we're not nearly as unusual as we thought.

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

 

Books on Thursday

I read several ARCs this week but will review them closer to their publication date. I did read one other book after hearing about Christopher Nolan's Odyssey almost everywhere I turned.  

I'm not nearly as familiar with The Odyssey as I probably should be, but even with only a basic knowledge of the original, I'm fairly certain I appreciated Margaret Atwood's retelling more than I would Homer's epic.

By allowing Penelope and the twelve hanged maids to tell their own stories, Atwood shifts the focus away from the celebrated hero and toward those who were expected to wait patiently while history glorified someone else's adventures. I couldn't help thinking that if I had been in Penelope's place, Odysseus and I would have had some very serious conversations when he finally deigned to return home after twenty years of wandering, monster-slaying, and "spending time" with various goddesses.

What I admire most about Atwood is her ability to subvert familiar narratives without dismissing them. Her deep knowledge of and respect for the original myth is evident throughout, even as she playfully pokes holes in its assumptions. The novel is witty, clever, and often surprisingly funny, but beneath the humor is a sharp examination of whose voices are preserved, whose are ignored, and how gender and class shape the stories that survive.

The Penelopiad is brief but thought-provoking. It made me want to revisit The Odyssey with fresh eyes, and that's probably one of the highest compliments a retelling can earn. I just wish I was better at pronouncing Margaret Atwood's title. 

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