Unraveled Wednesday: 2/25/26

I’m happy to join Kat and the Unravelers today with a start on the Dream Hitchhiker. It is a dream to knit with this yarn, and for now I'm knitting on it monogamously in hope of finishing it in good time.

It was too dark outside to take a good picture of this by the time I thought about it, but I'll try to do better next week. I'm doing a row of yarnovers after every group of six teeth and stopping to admire it and pet its softness then, too. This is really a joy to knit. 

I've only got one knitting project but I did finish two books. Good People by Patmeena Sabit is one of those novels that quietly unsettles you and then refuses to let go.

At the center of the story is Zorah Sharaf, beloved eldest daughter, model student, the pride of a family who clawed their way from refugee beginnings to life in an exclusive American neighborhood. But after an unthinkable tragedy, the narrative fractures. Was Zorah perfect? Was she troubled? Was the Sharaf family truly living the American dream or just performing it?

What makes this novel especially compelling is its unique structure. The story is told exclusively through statements from friends, neighbors, teachers, community members, and reporters all weighing in. There’s no traditional narration, no access to a character’s private thoughts. Instead, readers piece together the truth through interviews and commentary. The format feels almost like reading court transcripts or investigative journalism, and it creates a fascinating push-and-pull effect. Just when you think you understand what happened, a new voice reframes everything.

That structure also underscores one of the novel’s most powerful themes: how truth is shaped by perspective and also by bias. Through these layered testimonies, Sabit offers a sharp, thought-provoking exploration of immigration, assimilation, and the crushing expectations placed on “model” families. The Sharafs are praised as a success story until they aren’t. The same community that once celebrated them becomes quick to judge. Prejudice simmers just beneath polite suburban civility, and the novel captures that tension beautifully.

If I have one small critique, it’s that the format, while bold and effective, occasionally creates emotional distance. Because we never fully inhabit Zorah’s interior life, some moments feel intentionally elusive. But maybe that’s the point: we never truly know someone through secondhand accounts, no matter how confident the speaker sounds.

Overall, Good People is smart, unsettling, and deeply relevant. It’s a book that invites discussion, about immigration, family, reputation, belonging, and the dangerous ease with which communities rewrite someone’s story. I think this would make a wonderful book for a book club discussion. 4.5 stars rounded up. 

In Where We Keep the Light, Josh Shapiro offers a thoughtful, measured reflection on public service, faith, and what it means to “show up” for your community. Part memoir, part governing philosophy, the book traces his path from knocking on doors as a young volunteer to leading the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania through complicated and often contentious moments.

I’ll admit whenever a prominent politician releases a memoir, especially one still relatively early in their national trajectory, it’s hard not to view it through a presidential lens. Writing a book can feel like a box that gets checked when someone is considering a future run for higher office. That said, even with that awareness, this was still a genuinely solid and engaging read.

What works best here is Shapiro’s emphasis on practical governance. He returns again and again to the idea that government can function well if leaders are willing to listen carefully, build coalitions, and tackle unglamorous problems head-on. His stories from the campaign trail and from his time in office feel grounded rather than grandiose. There’s a steady through-line of faith and family, but it’s presented in a way that feels personal rather than preachy.

As someone who doesn’t live in Pennsylvania but just next door in New Jersey, I found it interesting to read about issues that ripple across state lines, economic development, infrastructure, public safety, and the constant effort to restore trust in institutions. Even from a neighboring state, it’s clear that Shapiro takes the mechanics of governing seriously.

Is it a bit polished? Of course. Is there careful positioning? Absolutely. But that’s to be expected in political memoir. What elevates it to four stars for me is the tone: pragmatic, optimistic without being naive, and focused on the idea that more unites Americans than divides us.

If this book is part of laying the groundwork for a presidential run, it’s an effective introduction. Based on what I read here and in the news about his governorship, I think Mr. Shapiro would do a fine job as president. Here’s hoping that that happens. 

What are you making and reading this last Wednesday in February? 

 

Catching Up on Books

I had an embarrassment of riches in Advance Readers' Copies and I'm just now getting caught up in reading them. This post will serve to "officially" catch up by sharing my thoughts on three books. I thought they were all worthwhile reads and I really loved one of them. I'm writing this post ahead of time on Saturday for publication on Monday because we have a blizzard predicted to start on Sunday, with 16-20 inches of snow and 50-60 mph winds. Once again, I'm keeping my fingers crossed that we don't lose electricity, but even if we do, hopefully you'll still be able to read about these three books.

Fairy tale retellings are nothing new. Shelves are lined with fractured princesses, redeemed villains, and revisionist happily-ever-afters. But Lady Tremaine by Rachel Hochhauser stands out from the crowd as an exceptionally well-crafted reimagining that doesn’t simply flip the script on Cinderella’s “wicked stepmother,” but interrogates how such a woman might have come to be called wicked in the first place.

Hochhauser’s Etheldreda, Ethel to those who know her best, is a widow twice over, clinging to the brittle scaffolding of respectability in a manor house that mirrors her own circumstances: grand on the outside, quietly crumbling within. She is sharp, strategic, and fiercely devoted to her daughters’ survival in a world that offers women very few safe harbors. In this version of the story, ambition isn’t vanity; it’s survival.

What makes this retelling so compelling is that it doesn’t excuse cruelty, but it contextualizes it. Through Ethel’s eyes, we see how desperation, grief, and the razor-thin margins available to women can calcify into hardness. Hochhauser brilliantly illustrates how, in a patriarchal system where inheritance, security, and status are controlled by men, women are forced to fight relentlessly for themselves and their children. Marriage is not romance; it is infrastructure. Reputation is currency. A royal ball is not magic; it is strategy.

The novel’s emotional core is Ethel’s love for her daughters, a love that is both tender and ferocious. When a royal engagement accelerates in unsettling ways and dark secrets surface within the monarchy, Ethel must confront the true cost of the future she’s been so carefully engineering. Her choices, particularly regarding her prickly, resistant stepdaughter, are what elevate this book beyond a simple villain redemption arc. Hochhauser shows how stories are shaped by perspective, and how history (or folklore) often flattens complicated women into cautionary tales.

The writing is lush without being overwrought, and the pacing remains propulsive, especially as political intrigue deepens. There’s romance, yes, but it is the romance of agency and survival as much as it is between individuals. The peregrine falcon perched at the edge of the household feels like a perfect symbol: beautiful, dangerous, and trained to survive.

If I’m holding back half a star, it’s only because a few secondary threads could have been explored even further. But that’s a small quibble in what is otherwise a gripping, thoughtful, and emotionally resonant retelling.

In a genre crowded with glass slippers and spinning wheels, Lady Tremaine reminds us that sometimes the most interesting woman in the room isn’t the girl in rags; it’s the one fighting to keep the roof from collapsing. This one was a glowing five stars for me. 

Thank you to NetGalley and St. Martin's Press for providing me with a copy of this book. It will be published on March 3, 2026.

The Shock of the Light is an emotionally rich, carefully researched World War II novel anchored by a powerful sibling bond. Twins Tessa and Theo feel convincingly intertwined from the first pages, making the novel’s central loss resonate long after the war story itself unfolds.

The wartime sections are especially strong. Tessa’s work with the Special Operations Executive brings tension and moral complexity, while Theo’s experiences as an RAF pilot, and later as a wounded, grieving veteran, are rendered with sensitivity and restraint. Theo’s identity as a clandestinely gay man in a period when homosexuality was criminalized adds another layer of quiet danger and injustice, and Hall handles this aspect of his life with care rather than melodrama.

The novel’s dual timelines largely work, particularly the postwar storyline involving Edie, a PhD candidate researching the SOE. Her partnership with the aging Theo provides a moving frame for uncovering Tessa’s fate and exploring how grief reshapes a life over decades. That said, the contemporary sections occasionally slow the novel’s momentum, especially when compared with the immediacy and emotional intensity of the wartime chapters.

Where the book truly shines is in its portrayal of love - between siblings, between comrades, and in the redemptive connections that can arise unexpectedly from shared loss. While not every narrative strand carries equal weight, The Shock of the Light is a thoughtful, affecting novel about courage, secrecy, and the long shadows cast by war. Fans of character-driven historical fiction will find much to admire here.

Thank you to NetGalley and Viking Penguin for providing me with a copy of this book. It will be published on March 17, 2026. There is a giveaway on goodreads if you are interested. 

 

I don’t often judge a book by its cover, but I was immediately struck by this title and knew I had to read the book. Everything Was Beautiful and Nothing Hurt announces its intentions right away; this is a meditation on mortality, love, and the fragile beauty of being alive.

This is also a surprisingly difficult book for me to rate. The original title and premise feel like an easy four stars all on their own, and in places the writing rises to five-star territory with quiet, luminous passages that capture grief, tenderness, and human connection with real grace. At the same time, there were sections that felt thinner or more familiar, where the novel landed closer to two or three stars for me.

Ben Reeves gives us a modern, quietly human incarnation of Death in Travis, who wears jeans, lives in a drab town, and approaches his work with gentleness, patience, and deep respect for the natural order of things. His role is not to interfere, only to witness and to comfort, and the novel’s early chapters are especially strong in conveying the dignity and tenderness of these final moments. There’s something profoundly soothing in the way Reeves allows Death to listen without judgment.

The emotional center of the book emerges when Travis forms a connection with Dalia, a midwife, and her spirited daughter Layla. The contrast between someone who ushers life into the world and someone who accompanies it out is handled with warmth and clarity, and Layla’s presence adds lightness without ever feeling forced. Through them, Travis begins to understand attachment, joy, and loss in ways that complicate his carefully maintained detachment.

This is a short novel, and its brevity is both a strength and a limitation. The writing is often lovely and sincere, but some ideas feel introduced and resolved a bit too quickly, as though there were room for deeper exploration that the book chooses not to take. Still, the emotional impact is real, along with plenty of compassion.

Ultimately, this is a gentle, thoughtful book about accepting impermanence and finding meaning anyway. I settled on 3.5 stars rounded up. The ambition, compassion, and moments of truly beautiful writing make this a worthwhile read, even if it doesn’t fully cohere at the same level throughout. For readers drawn to gentle reflections on life, love, and death, there is much here to appreciate. This one was four stars for me. 

Thank you to NetGalley and Simon & Schuster for providing me with a copy of this book. It will be published on July 7, 2026. 

Here's hoping you're safe, warm, have plenty of books to read, and electricity, all at the same time!

 

A Gathering of Poetry: February 2026

It’s the third Thursday of the month, which means it’s time for A Gathering of Poetry - welcome!

I found this photo on an external hard drive a while ago, but I have no idea who took it or where. But I did have a moment of serendipity when I came across a poem that seems to go with it. 

For the Bird Singing Before Dawn

by Kim Stafford  

Some people presume to be hopeful
when there is no evidence for hope,
to be happy when there is no cause.
Let me say now, I’m with them.

In deep darkness on a cold twig
in a dangerous world, one first
little fluff lets out a peep, a warble,
a song—and in a little while, behold:

the first glimmer comes, then a glow
filters through the misty trees,
then the bold sun rises, then
everyone starts bustling about.

And that first crazy optimist, can we
forgive her for thinking, dawn by dawn,
“Hey, I made that happen!
And oh, life is so fine.”

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Stafford, Kim. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on April 27, 2022, by the Academy of American Poets. 

You can read more about Kim Stafford here and here, too.  

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Thank you for reading and joining us for our monthly Gathering of Poetry. You are

more than welcome to add your link below if you would like to share one of your

favorite poems. The more the merrier! 

 

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Click here to enter

Unraveled Wednesday: 2/18/26

I’m happy to join Kat and the Unravelers today with some finished objects.

I finally put thumbs on the Cozy Gusset Mittens. I thought it might be too late since we've had warm weather this week, but we're supposed to get nine inches of snow on Sunday.  That's not welcome news at all, but at least I've got finished mittens.

But better than that, I finally finished the Ansel Adams Hitchhiker. Kat has been calling it that for a while and that's how I've been thinking of it with the black, white, and gray tones. 

 

 

That's not a great photo so here's a better one.

  

 

I really do love it and since next week will be cold and snowy I'll still have plenty of opportunities to wear it. 

 

And up next: my Dream Hitchhiker, knit completely out of Road to China Light. (Wonderful yarn from a wonderful friend!) I'll be winding it tonight and casting on post haste. 

 

 

I've read three books this week, so I'll put all my thoughts about them in a post on Friday (or maybe not until Monday if things don't calm down a little bit).

What are you making and reading this mid-February week? 

 

What's for Dinner?

We had some more snow (about three inches) on Sunday night and while John was cleaning off the driveway, I was trying to answer that eternal question: "What should I make for dinner?" I wanted something easy, requiring minimal effort, warming, tasty, and that I hopefully had all the ingredients on hand. I settled on Crockpot Tortellini. It satisfied all of my criteria except I was missing diced tomatoes. I thought about using spaghetti sauce but I was afraid it would end up like tortellini soup. 

But John had cleaned off the driveway and even my car, so it was easy enough for me to run out and get a couple cans of diced tomatoes. I even thought ahead more than one day and got some split peas so I could make soup with the ham that I got out of the freezer for tomorrow. 

I don't follow the recipe exactly. I use smoked kielbasa instead of sausage, I use two packages of frozen spinach instead of fresh (in the winter anyway), I don't add cream cheese (too gloppy for me), and I use more than one measly teaspoon of Italian seasoning. I usually throw in some chopped garlic if I have a few cloves, or garlic powder if I don't, and I use a combination of mozzarella and parmesan cheeses. You could really make it however you like to suit your personal preferences. 

So we had a tasty dinner and I even have dinner planned for the next two nights. That's a win in my book!

 

A Few Photos

The cold weather over the past couple weeks has produced some rather picturesque river ice. This week has been a little warmer and caused the ice to recede a bit, so I'm glad I took pictures of it when it was it its peak with just a channel of water running in the middle.

One of the advantages of these extensive ice shelves is that they provide plenty of area for wildlife. In the past decade there have been an increasing number of bald eagles nesting along the river and they've successfully hatched eggs and raised offspring. It's now a pretty common occurrence to see eagles and their eaglets. The ice shelves make a perfect place for the adults to show their eagles how to rip apart the fish they might have caught. I'll spare you any of those barbaric photos, but this one just looks majestic.

 

 

I didn't take this picture but it's from a friend of John's brother. Everyone around here looks for piebald deer, and there are lots of photos sent around if anyone spies one. The snow makes a nice background for this one. 

 

 

This covered bridge is about a mile from where John grew up, so we've driven through it plenty of times. I tend to take it for granted, but snow always makes it look even more scenic.

 

 

My last photo isn't wildlife or nature, but two lovely people that I love. Justin was in a friend's wedding last weekend and both he and Jess cleaned up nicely. He never dresses up, so this occasion was photo-worthy.

 

I hope your weekend is full of fun and relaxation and a photographic moment or two! 

 

Unraveled Wednesday: 2/11/26

I’m happy to join Kat and the Unravelers today, with a completed hat and some progress on the Hitchhiker. 

The only red yarn I could find in my stash was Malabrigo Chunky, so I had to modify the Melt the Ice pattern for chunky yarn. I gathered modifications from others that had also used chunky and it turned out fairly well. I wore it last weekend when I had to leave the house to cat-sit for Justin and Jess. It kept me warm in 8 degrees and 40 mph winds, so that's a good thing. It's kind of a quirky hat but I like it and hope to see others in the wild. 

 

 

I have been working on my Hitchhiker and finally reached the point where I've run out of the black and white speckled yarn. This is progress and now all I have to do is knit with the ultra-soft gray Road to China Light for as many teeth as I feel necessary. 

 

I recently found out that The Fibre Co. is retiring from selling yarn, and that includes the Road to China Light yarn that is my absolute favorite. This is sad news indeed, but I also feel very lucky. I received a generous gift certificate from a very thoughtful friend and I bought some gorgeous maroon Road to China Light that I will be using for my next Hitchhiker. Yup, a whole Hitchhiker from this special yarn because of a special person. I have to make myself finish the current Hitchhiker before I cast on my dream Hitchhiker so I'm going to stay monogamous to my knitting. I do still have to knit thumbs for my mittens, but those can wait. 

 

In reading this week, I really enjoyed The Help, so I was both excited and a little anxious to finally read another novel by Kathryn Stockett. The Calamity Club marks Stockett’s long-awaited second book after her breakout success, and happily it delivers much of what I was hoping for: big-hearted storytelling, memorable women, and a deep affection for flawed characters trying to survive in an unforgiving world.

Set in 1933 Oxford, Mississippi, this novel brings together an unlikely group of women, each marginalized in different ways, whose lives intersect at just the right (or wrong) moment. Meg, Birdie, and Charlie are all compelling in their own ways, and Stockett does a particularly good job showing how class, gender, and circumstance limit their options while never fully extinguishing their grit or humor. These main characters join forces along with other underestimated women to take bold risks that might change their lives forever, forming a sisterhood rooted in defiance as much as friendship.

That sense of resilience, especially resilience found in friendship and shared defiance, is the emotional core of the book. Stockett vividly portrays the struggle for dignity and self-determination against the backdrop of the Great Depression, where economic hardship sharpens every choice and raises the cost of every mistake. It’s hard not to root for these women and their audacious plan, even as the stakes rise and the consequences loom.

These are women you want to root for, surrounded by men you mostly want to hate. That contrast is played a little heavy-handed at times, and while I admired the novel’s ambition and heart, some of it was a bit overwritten and went on a bit too long. Still, Stockett’s warmth, wit, and compassion shine through, and the ending is so very satisfying that it’s easy to let those flaws slide. This is a rewarding, engaging read and a welcome return from an author I was eager to visit again.

Thank you to Edelweiss+ and Spiegel & Grau for providing me with a copy of this book. It will be published on May 5, 2026.

What are you making and reading during this slightly warmer week?