I’m happy to join Kat and the Unravelers today with a bit more knitting on the Dream Hitchhiker.
It probably doesn't look much different since the last time, but I added 12 more teeth, and I'm getting ready to start the third skein. There's quite a bit more to go, but it's pleasurable knitting, so I'm not in a rush.
I finished two ARCs this week; one was pretty good and the second one was perfect. The Burning Side is one of those family
dramas that pulls you in with crisis, a devastating house fire, and then
slowly reveals the deeper, quieter burns already smoldering beneath the
surface.
Sarah Damoff does an especially strong job capturing
the complicated emotions of an extended family. The novel moves between
perspectives, April, Leo, and April’s mother Deb, giving us a layered
look at marriage, parenthood, aging, and the long shadows cast by
childhood. The range of issues woven into the story is ambitious:
divorce, dyslexia, Alzheimer’s, grief, and the logistical and emotional
fallout of losing a home. At its best, the book holds all of this with
real compassion and insight.
I particularly appreciated how
Damoff portrays the push and pull of family life, the way support and
strain often come from the same people. Deb’s sections, especially as
she navigates her husband’s Alzheimer’s diagnosis, felt grounded and
deeply human. There’s a sense throughout the novel that love persists
even when it’s strained, imperfect, or hard-won.
That said, the
writing occasionally tips into the overwrought. There are moments where
the prose feels a bit too heavy, as if reaching for emotional depth but
landing instead in repetition or excess. A lighter touch in some
sections would have made the strongest moments land even harder.
Still, despite those uneven patches, I found myself genuinely invested in this family and their outcome. Damoff’s strength lies in her empathy,
and by the end, what lingers is not just the trauma they endure, but the
ways they continue to choose one another. This is a thoughtful,
emotionally rich novel about what survives, both materially and
emotionally, after everything else burns. Three and a half stars rounded
up.
Thank you to Edelweiss and Simon & Schuster for
providing me with a copy of this book. It will be published on May 19,
2026. There is a goodreads giveaway if you are interested.
I didn’t think Douglas Stuart could surpass Shuggie Bain or Young Mungo for me, but John of John is, without question, his finest work yet.
From
its opening pages, this novel feels both intimate and expansive, rooted
deeply in the rugged beauty of the Isle of Harris while quietly
unraveling the emotional terrain of a son returning home. John-Calum’s
homecoming is not just geographic; it’s a reckoning with identity,
desire, faith, and the complicated inheritance of family expectations.
Stuart captures this tension with such precision that even the smallest
interactions hum with meaning.
What struck me most is the
emotional restraint paired with devastating clarity. The relationship
between Cal and his father is rendered with an almost unbearable
honesty, love and disappointment braided so tightly together they’re
nearly indistinguishable. And then there’s Ella, whose sharp tongue and
hard-won pragmatism provide both relief and depth, embodying a different
kind of survival.
Stuart’s prose is as luminous as ever, spare,
poetic, and deeply attentive to place. The island itself feels alive:
harsh, beautiful, and unyielding, mirroring the inner lives of its
characters. Every detail, from lambing to weaving, grounds the story in a
tactile reality that makes the emotional stakes feel even higher.
This
is a novel about the quiet courage it takes to live truthfully,
especially in places and families where silence has long been the norm.
It’s about the cost of that truth, but also its necessity.
Devastating, tender, and exquisitely crafted, John of John is a masterpiece. Thank you to Edelweiss and Grove Press for providing me with a copy of this book. It will be published on May 5, 2026.
What are you making and reading this last Wednesday in March?
