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! 

 

You are invited to the Inlinkz link party!

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? 

  

Read With Us: Gilead

If you’re in the mood for a book that rewards slow reading, deep thinking, and a little quiet awe, Gilead by Marilynne Robinson is a perfect choice for Read With Us.

Set in a small Iowa town in the 1950s, Gilead takes the form of a long letter written by Reverend John Ames to his young son. Ames is elderly and ill, and what unfolds is not a plot-driven novel so much as a meditation on life: faith, grace, forgiveness, love, regret, and the strange beauty of ordinary days. If that sounds heavy, it can be, but it’s also gentle, luminous, and surprisingly warm. So what are some good reasons for reading this book?

One of the great pleasures of Gilead is Robinson’s language. Her prose is precise and unshowy, yet often breathtaking. She has a gift for making small moments feel sacred: light falling on water, a child’s laughter, a simple walk through town. This is a book that makes you want to pause mid-paragraph just to sit with a sentence for a moment.

This is also a novel about empathy. Even when characters disappoint or frustrate us, Robinson invites us to see them whole, shaped by their pasts and their fears. That generosity of spirit is one of the reasons Gilead has stayed with readers for years and continues to feel relevant.

For discussion purposes, Gilead offers so much to work with. It asks big questions without insisting on easy answers: What do we owe the people we love? How do we live well, knowing we are flawed and finite? What does forgiveness really cost? The relationships, especially between fathers and sons, and between old friends carrying long histories, are nuanced and quietly powerful, leaving plenty of room for interpretation and our discussion.

If you enjoy books that are reflective rather than fast-paced, rich in ideas, and written with extraordinary care, Gilead is well worth your time. It’s the kind of novel that doesn’t shout for your attention, but once you settle into it, it has a way of lingering, quietly, long after you’ve turned the last page.

Kym, Carole, and I will be talking about the book, giving additional information, and doing promotional posts throughout February. Discussion day for Gilead is scheduled for Tuesday, March 17, 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 hope the promise of breathtaking prose, a book full of empathy, and one that I think will be the basis of a rich discussion will make you want to read Gilead. We hope you'll Read With Us and discover this quietly reflective novel.