Friday Letters

Today I'm taking my virtual fountain pen in hand to write a few Friday letters. I've been to the grocery store, come across something unique and interesting, and had some reactions. You might, too. 

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Dear Utrecht Fish People,

I can't thank you enough for your fish doorbell! There is just something so undeniably fun about staring at an underwater camera, hoping to see a fish so I can ring the doorbell. I've enjoyed myself quite a bit, sitting with my knitting, waiting, and watching in hopes of letting a fish through on their journey to spawn. It would be a real accomplishment if you could teach the fish to ring the doorbell themselves, but until that happens, I'm happy to help. 

Sincerely,

A fish-watching friend

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Dear Peeps,

Last week it was Protein Pop-Tarts, this week it's some sort of meta Pop-Tart flavored Peeps? I'll admit that I was a little bit tempted to buy a box just so I could see how bad they tasted, but I'm fairly sure they are just as bad as I'm imagining. 

I would also like to voice my objections over the Dr. Pepper flavor. Dr. Pepper is my favorite soda and it should not be tarnished by using it as some sort of marketing gimmick to sell your chick-shaped blobs of marshmallow. But if I do happen to see some of these at half price after Easter, I may not be able to resist. (But only if they're half price!)

 I can't wait to see what you come up with next. (Maybe Protein Peeps!),

 A Dr. Pepper lover who only imbibes in liquid form

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I wish you a wonderful weekend, a Happy Passover or Happy Easter if you celebrate either one, and maybe a handful of just the good-tasting jellybeans!

Unraveled Wednesday: 4/1/26

I’m happy to join Kat and the Unravelers today with a Hitchhiker photo that looks much the same as last week, but if I had remembered to take a photo while it was still light out, you might be able to spy 9 more teeth. 

The temperature got up to 80 degrees for the past two days so it was kind of sweaty and uncomfortable to have the Hitchhiker on my lap. I think today is supposed to be another unseasonably warm day, but hopefully we'll get back to better temperatures so it will be more comfortable to work on this. I can see that I need to finish this before summer really gets going!

I finished two books this week; one was a decent read and one was spectacular. Set in 1977 suburban Rochester, Lake Effect explores a moment of restlessness that ripples through two families, beginning with Nina’s impulsive affair and radiating outward into her daughter Clara’s life for years to come. Sweeney is at her best when she captures the quiet dissatisfaction of adulthood and the way a single choice can fracture a family’s sense of stability. The writing is observant and often wry, especially in its portrayal of marriage, longing, and the stories people tell themselves to justify their actions.

But this is also a book where nearly everyone behaves badly, and not always in ways that feel illuminating. The adults make reckless, self-absorbed choices, but what’s more frustrating is how those patterns echo into the next generation. Clara, as a grown woman, remains stuck in the emotional wake of her mother’s decisions, yet she, too, makes choices that are difficult to sympathize with. Instead of deepening the novel’s themes, this generational mirroring sometimes makes the story feel repetitive rather than revelatory.

The title is a strong and fitting metaphor. A lake effect storm, when cold air sweeps over warmer water and produces sudden, intense snowfall, perfectly captures the emotional climate of the book. Small shifts in temperature lead to outsized, unexpected consequences, and Sweeney seems interested in how quickly lives can be altered by moments of desire or impulsivity. Still, like those storms, the impact here can feel more blustery than transformative.

In the end, Lake Effect has moments of insight and emotional truth, but it didn’t fully cohere for me. It was kind of a fun read for me to see just how badly the characters could behave, but not one that lingered much past the last page for me. This was three stars for me.

I’ll admit it: I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to leave Olive Kitteridge behind. There’s something about Olive, her sharp edges, her loneliness, her unexpected tenderness, that lingers long after the last page. So when I opened The Things We Never Say, I did so with a tiny bit of reluctance, unsure if I was ready to trade her in for Strout's newest character.

But Elizabeth Strout knows exactly what she’s doing.

Artie Dam is, in many ways, the opposite of Olive, gentler, quieter, more inwardly unsettled, but he is every bit as real. He’s a good man, simply trying to live in a world that often feels confusing and off-kilter. Strout captures his inner life with such precision that his questions, about marriage, about how little we truly know even the people we love, and about truth and the things we never say are ones that felt much like questions I've asked myself.

And that’s the magic here: nothing “big” needs to happen for everything to feel enormous. A single revelation ripples outward, forcing Artie (and the reader) to reconsider what a life is made of, what we say, what we don’t, and what it costs to keep certain truths buried.

What sets Strout apart, too, is her ability to write about the current political and cultural climate with honesty and restraint. She doesn’t grandstand or simplify; instead, she lets it seep naturally into her characters’ lives, the way it does in ours, through unease, conversation, silence, sometimes quiet division, and being appalled and horrified daily. It’s one of the few portrayals in fiction that has actually felt true. As always, her prose is deceptively simple, clean, precise, and deeply compassionate. She sees her characters clearly, flaws and all, and loves them anyway. And because she does, we do, too.

There’s a passing reference to Olive Kitteridge that made me inordinately happy, one of those small, perfect moments that reminds you all of Strout’s characters exist in the same emotional universe. It felt like running into an old friend when you least expect it.

By the end, I wasn’t missing Olive anymore (well, not quite as much). Artie Dam had taken his place beside her as another beautifully drawn, fully human character trying to make sense of things that don’t always make sense.

Five stars for a novel that feels both intimate and expansive, and for a writer who continues to illuminate the quiet, complicated truths of being alive.

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

What are you making and reading this April Fool's Day?   

 

Read With Us: It's An (Exciting) New Book!

We're thrilled to announce the Read With Us spring selection: Good People by Patmeena Sabit. 

I think it's better if you read this debut novel without a lot of advance knowledge, but I will share the publisher's blurb as I don't think it gives away too much. 

"The Sharaf family is the picture of success. Successful, rich, happy. They came to this country as refugees with nothing more than the clothes on their backs. And now, after years of hard work, they live in the most exclusive neighborhood, their growing family attending the most prestigious schools. Zorah, the eldest daughter, is the apple of her father’s eye.

When an unthinkable tragedy strikes, everyone is left reeling and the family is thrust into the court of public opinion. There is talk that behind closed doors the Sharafs’ happy household was anything but. Did the Sharaf family achieve the American dream? Or was the image of the model immigrant family just a façade?

Like a literary game of ping-pong, Good People compels the reader to reconsider what might have happened even on the previous page. Told through a kaleidoscope of perspectives, it is a riveting, provocative, and haunting story of family—sisters, brothers, mothers, fathers, and the communities that claim us as family in difficult times." 

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, but decided that I also needed to read it with my eyes, so I bought the Kindle version for $13.99.  

Kym, Carole, and I will be talking about the book, giving additional information (but not too much!), and doing promotional posts throughout April and May. Discussion day for Good People is scheduled for Tuesday, June 9, 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 one will be quite discussable, so I hope you'll Read With Us!

Read With Us: Time to Wrap It Up

It's my turn to do the Read With Us wrap-up and I've been thinking about how best to capture our discussion of Gilead.

We had a wonderful group of 12 participants, and we were fairly evenly split over whether we liked the book, thought it was just okay, or just plain hated it. 

Carole asked whether Ames ultimately succeeded in offering his son meaningful guidance through the letter, which drifts through memory, theology, regret, and wonder. The general consensus was that it didn't offer much direct guidance; instead, it felt more self-serving, closer to a memoir or a personal reckoning than a roadmap for a child. Jane suggested that Ames’s son might interpret the letter differently at various stages of his life, and many of us agreed with Dee’s observation that the letter primarily served to “unburden his soul.”

Kym raised thoughtful questions about the novel’s literary style, its epistolary format, lack of traditional chapter breaks, and Ames’s distinctly “reverend-y” voice, and whether these elements enhanced or hindered the reading experience. She also prompted discussion about Jack Boughton, particularly Ames’s lingering distrust of him and how honestly that distrust is portrayed. We talked about the tension this creates and how Ames responds to Jack’s news about his family, as well as whether he would truly have welcomed them to Gilead.

Many of us felt the epistolary format was limiting, largely because we only saw events through Ames’s perspective. Several people noted the absence of dialogue, especially between Ames and Lila, and wondered what kind of relationship they might have actually had. There was also a sense that the novel might have been more compelling if told from a woman’s point of view.

When I asked why the novel resonates so deeply with some readers but feels slow or inaccessible to others, the most common answer was its lack of plot and forward momentum. Some readers found the stream-of-consciousness style frustrating, even describing it as “word vomit” or meandering, with little sense of resolution. While many of us acknowledged Robinson’s beautiful prose, but those moments could also get buried within the narrative. Ames’s voice, in particular, struck some readers as overly sermon-like, which made it harder to connect.

So there you have it. We had a fascinating side discussion about how reading experiences can change over time. Kym, who has read the book three times, found that each reading felt different. We also considered whether the “unprecedented times” we’re living through might make readers less patient with quieter, more introspective novels that lack clear plot or character growth.

As always, I came away grateful for this group. Our Read With Us discussions consistently help me see books in new ways, and participants often raise points I wouldn’t have considered on my own. This was certainly one of those conversations. Thank you to everyone who read along, joined the discussion, and shared your thoughts.

If you attended the Zoom and would like to add your own highlights in the comments, please do; I'd love to hear them. We’ll be announcing our spring selection tomorrow, March 31, so be sure to check back. I can promise it’s quite different from Gilead, with no nuns, and no long-winded reverends!

Friday Letters

 

Today I'm taking my virtual fountain pen in hand to write a few Friday letters. I've visited the DMV, seen something new and had some reactions. You might, too. 

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 Dear NJ DMV,

You might wonder why I’m writing you a letter that references Sneetches, but during my recent visit to obtain a Real ID license, they were all I could think about. Applicants were required to stand in line at three different stations, and even after making an appointment, it often seemed that the goal at each one was to reject people. No stars upon thars!

At the first station, many applicants were told they had not completed the Real ID application correctly. They were given another chance, and if they succeeded, they were allowed to move on to the second station for the dreaded ID check. There were twelve people in line ahead of me, but sadly, only one of them (and I) made it to the final line. The other ten were sent away without further progress towards stars upon thars, hopefully to try again another day.

At the final station, my documents were checked once more, scanned, and my picture was taken. I should receive my Real ID license within two weeks, and I sincerely hope there is a star on it certifying that I was patient enough to wait two hours. It feels like you should also send me a nice blue star that I can proudly display on my stomach, but I’ll still be happy if it’s just my Real ID license.

I was a bit disappointed that there didn’t seem to be any DMV employees with whom I could joke about the Star-Bellied Sneetches. I think it might have improved the day slightly for all of us.

Thank you for testing my ability to find documents that prove I'm who I think I am,

A Star-bellied NJ motorist

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Dear Mrs. Cubberly,

I still remember the note you sent home after I committed the grave parental offense of packing Ryan a (gasp!) frosted Pop-Tart for first-grade snack time. You firmly explained that such a treat was not only unhealthy, but also the cause of widespread classroom unrest, as Ryan’s classmates suddenly developed a strong and immediate interest in his snack.

You suggested that, should I persist in my Pop-Tart ways, I might consider the unfrosted variety, those noble, fruit-filled bastions of health. I’ve thought about that note every time I pass the Pop-Tarts aisle for the past 30 years, and I must admit, it still makes me smile. I’m not convinced that any Pop-Tart, frosted or otherwise, has ever earned a spot on a nutritionist’s “recommended” list. At the time, though, I sent the frosted kind for two very sound reasons: it was what we had, and it was what Ryan would actually eat.

But now, a new development: I recently spotted Protein Pop-Tarts in the store. They are, astonishingly, still frosted. This raises an important question that only you, I feel, are qualified to answer: have we finally achieved the dream? Are frosted Protein Pop-Tarts now … healthy?

I eagerly await your ruling.

Sincerely,

Ryan's Mom 

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I hope you all enjoy a wonderful weekend, with or without Pop-Tarts (or anyone judging whether what you eat is healthy or not). 

Unraveled Wednesday: 3/25/26

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?   

Read With Us: Today Is the Day for the Real Discussion!

After a slight delay due to the flu, we're back today for our postponed discussion of Gilead by Marilynne Robinson. My questions are the same, so this post is much the same as last week. There is no need to answer the questions again if you did last week, unless you have more thoughts you'd like to share. 

Kym, Carole, and I are each posting a discussion question or two on our blogs today, and you are welcome to respond in the comments. I would also encourage you to reply to others' comments if you choose.  This is a book discussion, after all, so there are no correct answers or right opinions. I'm really looking forward to discussing this book. I'll be honest; I found it difficult to read, and after several false starts, I finally finished it. So I think this discussion will be valuable for me, and I hope for others of you as well. 

 

Here are my questions: Why do you think this novel resonates so deeply with some readers, and feels slow or difficult to others? Does this look at a 1950s rural, white church and town offer anything to readers in the 21st century?

I'll be glad to share my thoughts about our questions tonight during our Zoom discussion. These questions on our blogs and the Zoom discussion are your chance to express your ideas. So what do you think? I can't wait to hear your thoughts! (And I'm counting on our discussion to give me fresh perspectives in my own thinking about this novel.)

The in-person Zoom discussion will be at 7:00 pm Eastern this evening. If you haven't RSVP'd to Kym already you can send me an email (the email address is in the upper right) and I will make sure you get an invitation with the Zoom link. I hope to see you there!

I Am Brave? (Maybe)

I got my second shingles shot this morning. Even though the pharmacy tech gave me an "I Am Brave" sticker, it remains to be seen if I really am brave or not. I felt pretty darn crappy for two days after my first shot, so we'll see how I feel tomorrow. I don't want to talk myself into feeling bad, but I've got chores done and dinner prepped for tonight and tomorrow just in case. I suppose I was a little bit brave because I did go back for my second shot!

Friday Letters

Today I'm taking my virtual fountain pen in hand to write a few Friday letters. I've read several things and I have some reactions. You might, too. 

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Dear Snake Yoga People, 

Kittens, yes. Snakes, no, absolutely not, never in a million years. 

No thank you,

A person who is creeped out even thinking about snakes 

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Dear Charles Darwin,

I  know you are no longer alive, but I still want to thank you for your letter writing. Whenever I have a bad day, I remember that you, one of our greatest scientific minds, also had some bad days, and you expressed your thoughts quite eloquently in your letters. 

Oh my God how I do hate species & varieties.
 -Charles Darwin to J.D. Hooker, 11 Mar 1858   

I am very tired, very stomachy & hate nearly the whole world.
-Charles Darwin to Thomas Huxley, 10 Sep 1860
 
I am very poorly today & very stupid & hate everybody & everything.
-Charles Darwin to Charles Lyell, 1 Oct 1861
 
I hate myself, I hate clover, and I hate bees. 
-Charles Darwin to John Lubbock, 3 Sep 1862.  

 

While I have never actually used any of these, I do keep a list of them just in case. I think they might come in handy someday. 

 

I am not too poorly today, but sometimes stupid, and not too fond of some people and some things,

 

Bonny

 

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Dear Mayo Clinic,

 

There are times when knitting gets the best of me but I do want to thank you for your research and findings. "The investigators found that ordinary yet intellectually stimulating activities such as using a computer, playing games, reading books and engaging in crafts — including knitting, woodworking and other types of handiwork — were associated with a 30 to 50 percent decrease in the chances of developing mild cognitive impairment."

 

I know you said that it was also important to maintain heart health and stay physically active, but after I've done that, I'm sitting down to grow my cognitive reserve with knitting and reading. Sometimes I even do both at the same time. Does that count double?

 

Thanks!

 

A knitter and reader

 

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I hope you have a good weekend, completely free of any snake yoga classes! 

 

 

 

Unraveled Wednesday: 3/18/26

I’m happy to join Kat and the Unravelers today with a few more teeth added to the Dream Hitchhiker, and more ribbing on Justin's Hat 2.0. There was a bit of unraveling on Justin's hat, in fact, I ended up ripping it out and casting on again. I'm knitting plenty of ribbing so that the brim can be turned up to provide a double layer, but when I started the ribbing previously I did k2, p1. This meant that when that when the brim was turned up, p2, k1 ribbing would have been showing, and I think it's kind of ugly. I usually switch ribbing halfway through to provide a fold line, but I didn't recognize the problem with the "ugly ribbing" until I was well past the fold line. I tried to tell myself it didn't matter for two rounds, but I finally listened to my inner knitting voice, ripped it out and cast on again.

It mattered to me even if nobody else would have paid attention, but now it's fixed and I'm moving on to the stockinette part of the hat. Below is how it will look with the brim turned up and only "good" K2P1 ribbing showing.

 

 

But I also had a short knitting diversion. I have a friend who has had her second knee replacement and we were e-mailing about the "F*** 2020" dishcloth I knit for her during the pandemic. I decided she needed something updated, so I knit this: 

 

I'll be visiting her in a few days to deliver the updated dishcloth. If you would like to knit an updated dish/face cloth of your own, there is a free pattern on ravelry.

I haven't finished any books this week, but am reading two ARCs that I hope to finish in the near future. 

What are you making and reading this Wednesday in March?  

Read With Us: Discussion Time

UPDATE: 

We really hate to do this, but we have to postpone or Zoom discussion of Gilead scheduled for tonight. One of our team is quite ill with flu and says "her brain is completely scrambled and she can barely keep her eyes open". That is no way to try and participate in a book discussion, so we will postpone our Zoom discussion until next Tuesday, March 24th at 7:00 pm. We're very sorry for any inconvenience this may cause and hope you'll be able to join us next Tuesday. 

Thank you,

The Read With Us team

 

 

Today is the discussion day for our Read With Us winter book, Gilead by Marilynne Robinson. 

Kym, Carole, and I are each posting a discussion question or two on our blogs today, and you are welcome to respond in the comments. I would also encourage you to reply to others' comments if you choose.  This is a book discussion, after all, so there are no correct answers or right opinions. I'm really looking forward to discussing this book. I'll be honest; I found it difficult to read, and after several false starts, I finally finished it. So I think this discussion will be valuable for me, and I hope for others of you as well. 

Here are my questions: Why do you think this novel resonates so deeply with some readers, and feels slow or difficult to others? Does this look at a 1950s rural, white church and town offer anything to readers in the 21st century?

 

I'll be glad to share my thoughts about our questions tonight during our Zoom discussion. These questions on our blogs and the Zoom discussion are your chance to express your ideas. So what do you think? I can't wait to hear your thoughts! (And I'm counting on our discussion to give me fresh perspectives in my own thinking about this novel.)

The in-person Zoom discussion will be at 7:00 pm Eastern this evening. If you haven't RSVP'd to Kym already you can send me an email (the email address is in the upper right) and I will make sure you get an invitation with the Zoom link. I hope to see you there!

 

A Few Friday Letters

Today I'm taking my virtual fountain pen in hand to write a few Friday letters. I saw a couple of things online and I have a suggestion and a question.  

 

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Dear Stop & Shop, 

I saw the picture above and wonder if maybe you would consider an aisle like this the next time you rearrange the store? It would certainly make my shopping much more enjoyable if I had an aisle like this to look forward to, filled with all of my favorite things. I bet I would shop more often and maybe even spend more money. I'll look forward to seeing this very soon!

Thank you,

A shopper that needs to be enticed to visit the store

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Dear Weather Underground,

You might want to check your weather instruments. This is from Tuesday, when the predicted temperature was 83 degrees, and the thermometer in my kitchen said it was 84. Forty below zero is a bit of a stretch, especially because I had bedding hanging on the line and it wasn't freeze-drying. Thanks for a bit of entertainment.

Sincerely,

Someone who is definitely not freezing

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Dear Mother Nature,

I don't seem to have any snowdrops this year, but while I was looking for them, I did find this bright yellow flower (which is probably a weed) and a bee. That's not quite a fair trade but thank you anyway. 

Signed,

A snowdrop lover

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I hope you all have a pleasurable experience at the grocery store, good weather, and maybe even some flowers! 

 

Unraveled Wednesday: 3/11/26

I’m happy to join Kat and the Unravelers today with a few more teeth added to the Dream Hitchhiker, and I’ve also cast on Justin’s Hat 2.0. The Hitchhiker looks much the same as it did last week, just four teeth longer, so I’ll spare you a photo this time. It’s true comfort knitting, and I almost always try to work a few rows before bed. At first I was eager to finish it so I could wear it while the weather was still chilly, but lately I’ve been taking my time and enjoying the process a bit more.

When I checked my stash for yarn for Justin’s Hat 2.0, I realized I had enough for the duplicate-stitch animals but not enough to actually knit the hat itself. So I ordered some Palette from KnitPicks. They shipped it the next day, and I waited rather impatiently by the front door for UPS. The delivery was late (of course), but my enthusiasm hadn’t faded, so I cast on right away. Unfortunately, I apparently couldn’t count to 144, despite checking three times, so I started over and managed it correctly the second time. Now I’m working through lots of ribbing and looking forward to reaching the stockinette section. I’m glad I started this hat in March; knitting a fingering-weight hat may take me a while, and the duplicate stitching will take even longer.

 

I read two books this week, both non-fiction and both great. Recommended by Pam, the graphic edition of On Tyranny by Timothy Snyder, illustrated by Nora Krug, transforms Snyder’s already concise political handbook into something even more immediate, visual, and emotionally resonant. Originally structured as twenty short lessons drawn from the failures of 20th-century democracies, the book distills complex historical warnings into brief, memorable calls to action about how ordinary people can resist authoritarianism.

What makes this edition stand out is Krug’s artwork. Her collage-style illustrations, mixing historical imagery, watercolor drawings, and visual symbolism, add a layer of urgency that the plain text version only hints at. The images don’t just decorate the ideas; they deepen them. Seeing fragments of propaganda, photographs, and unsettling visual juxtapositions alongside Snyder’s lessons drives home the unsettling reality that tyranny doesn’t arrive overnight, it grows gradually through complacency, fear, and the erosion of democratic norms.

The book is also remarkably accessible. At barely over a hundred pages, it reads quickly, but that brevity is part of its strength. Snyder’s central argument, that citizens must actively defend institutions, language, and truth, is delivered in short, direct chapters that feel less like academic analysis and more like civic advice. The graphic format reinforces that clarity, making the lessons easy to absorb and hard to forget.

If I had one small criticism, it’s that the format can occasionally make the ideas feel a bit simplified. The lessons are powerful, but readers looking for deeper historical context may want to follow this with some of Snyder’s more detailed works. For some, this book may be more of a starting point than a full exploration.

Still, as a visual introduction to democratic vigilance, On Tyranny is striking, thoughtful, and timely. It’s the kind of book that can be read in a single sitting but linger in your mind long afterward and provoke action.  

Recommended by Kym, The Sound of a Wild Snail Eating by Elisabeth Tova Bailey is one of those rare books that seems small and quiet on the surface, yet somehow expands your sense of the world. It’s a short memoir, but it left me with a surprising feeling of calm, wonder, and gratitude.

After a mysterious illness leaves Bailey largely bedridden and isolated, a friend brings her a pot of wild violets along with an unexpected guest: a tiny woodland snail. With little else she can physically do, Bailey begins observing the snail’s nightly routines, gradually becoming fascinated by its movements, habits, and quiet persistence. Over time, this tiny creature becomes a source of companionship and curiosity, giving structure and meaning to days that might otherwise feel empty.

What makes this book so special is Bailey’s attention to detail. She writes about the snail with the patience of a naturalist and the wonder of someone rediscovering the world at a slower pace. Through careful observation, watching the snail glide across leaves, listening to the faint rasping sound as it eats, learning about snail biology and behavior, she opens a door into an entire miniature universe that most of us never notice.

But this isn’t just a book about a snail. It’s about resilience, curiosity, and the strange ways we find comfort during difficult times. Bailey never turns the snail into a sentimental symbol; instead, she lets its simple persistence mirror her own struggle to endure and recover. The result is deeply moving without ever feeling heavy-handed.

I finished this book with the sense that my attention had been gently retrained. It reminds you that wonder doesn’t always come from grand adventures or dramatic stories; it can come from watching a tiny creature slowly explore the edge of a flowerpot. Quiet, thoughtful, and unexpectedly profound, The Sound of a Wild Snail Eating is a small masterpiece. 4.5 stars rounded up.  

What are you making and reading this warming Wednesday in March? 

 

Spring Cleaning (Sort Of)

Yesterday was an absolutely beautiful day, 72 degrees, blue skies, and breezy. It made me want to open the windows and wash my kitchen curtains since it was also a perfect drying day. Once I washed the curtains and hung them on the line, I decided that since I had started some spring cleaning, I would continue. 

 

 

Last week I asked you guys about rechargeable stick vacuums and even though Dyson seemed to be the top choice, I was afraid that brand might be a little pricey for my budget. I ordered an inexpensive ($128) model that was made in China but after reading too many specs I finally picked this one for its price, weight, suction, battery life, and reviews. 

 

 

I've only used it a little bit but I'm completely happy (so far). The heaviest thing on it is the rechargeable battery, it works really well on both rugs and bare floors, and the charge seems to last at least 30 min. even though I hadn't fully charged it. It even has a cool green headlight that helps me see dust on the bare floors. 

 

I was looking at the user's manual and got inspired to take the "stick" part off and attach one of the additional cleaning doohickeys and vacuum my stairs. I've always done them with a Swiffer and a damp microfiber towel, but using the vacuum this way I didn't have to crawl up and down the steps to get the dust bunnies.

 

Today is supposed to be even warmer, so I will probably wash my bedding and hang it outside so I can experience that wonderful moment of climbing into a bed freshly made with line-dried sheets. I'm also looking forward to vacuuming upstairs with my fancy new vacuum. I know I can carry it up the steps without hurting my back or tripping on the vacuum. Spring cleaning two days in a row is kind of a miracle around here, but anything that makes me want to clean is a good thing!

One Friday Letter

I've only got one Friday letter today, but I think it's a good one. The situation appealed to me for many reasons - there was a true disparity; the resolution involved knitting; the knitters drew attention to the problem without violence or vandalism, and the Danish government responded with a meaningful amount of money to address the issue. Read this article and see what you think. 

Dear Danish Knitters, 

Way to go! I love that Louise Moerup first discussed why there weren't more statues of real women with her son on the way to school, and even better, then she did something unique and creative. She knit a lovely halter dress for a naked Venus statue, but this was not because she was disturbed by nudity. “It wasn’t really the nudity that made me want to knit her dress,” Moerup said, “but the absence of women who are remembered for their achievements. Knitting the dress was my humorous way to make people look twice and notice what’s missing.” 

I love that other knitters have joined in making knitwear for statues, and I'm impressed by the caliber of these garments. 

 

 

Author Maren Uthaug said. “We don’t want the statues removed, and we don’t really want to cover them up. But we can’t make a point by doing something with historical statues — because they are not there.”

 

 

I really love that the Danish government saw and heard the knitters and announced that it was setting aside $1.5 million to fund public artworks commemorating historically significant women. 

 

“If my little knitted intervention helped nudge the conversation forward,” Moreup said, “I’m glad about that.” Louise, you and other Danish knitters have made my week, and I raise my knitting needles to you and your clever knitting. Well done!

 

Joining you in admiration,

A Fellow Knitter (who has not yet clothed a statue)

 

I hope your weekend is a good one and that your own making involves a bit of humor and cleverness! 

Unraveled Wednesday: 3/4/2026

I’m happy to join Kat and the Unravelers today with more of the Dream Hitchhiker. It looks much the same but I'm well into the second skein and have completed 28 teeth, so there is progress. 

I've been thinking about casting on a second project and I think I've chosen one. Years ago (13 or so) I knit this hat for Justin. He wore it several times, but he was in college at the time, so the hat often ended up on the floor of his dorm room. He brought it home and said that he didn't know how, but the hat had gotten a few small holes in it. There were at least five or six holes and I felt like crying, so I picked up the stitches around the holes the best I could and then just put the hat into the freezer. I suspected the holes were from carpet beetles, and I hoped the freezer would kill them. They are probably dead after 13 years, but realistically, I think it would be easier to just knit a new hat and duplicate stitch the animals once again onto the new hat. It took me over four months to knit and stitch originally but it could be a Christmas present if I started the new one in the near future. I think I might have extra balls of the original yarn I used, but that will require digging into deep stash. I also have to find the patterns for the animals. I might try gathering the materials together in the next week or so, or ordering new yarn if that's what I need to do. I've got my fingers crossed that this actually works out. 
 

I finished two books this week. I've seen the trailer for the movie Midwinter Break and thought the book might be more interesting. I went into Midwinter Break by Bernard MacLaverty expecting a quiet, emotionally rich portrait of a long marriage, and that’s mainly what I got. Set over the course of a short trip to Amsterdam, the novel follows Gerry and Stella as they navigate the unspoken tensions, old wounds, and spiritual reckonings that surface after decades together.

MacLaverty writes with restraint and precision. The prose is spare but thoughtful, and there’s an understated elegance to the way he captures memory, regret, and the strange intimacy of a shared life. The alternating perspectives between Gerry and Stella work well, highlighting how two people can inhabit the same experiences yet carry entirely different emotional truths. I especially appreciated the exploration of faith, guilt, and aging. These big themes are handled in a human, grounded way.

That said, while I completely understood and could easily relate to feelings that people engaged in a decades-long marriage might experience, that doesn't easily translate to a book that people might enjoy reading. The novel’s quiet realism too often tips into emotional monotony. The conflicts are internal, the revelations subtle, and the forward momentum minimal. At times, I found myself admiring the craft more than feeling compelled by the story.

There’s no doubt that Midwinter Break is a mature and carefully constructed novel. For readers who appreciate introspective literary fiction and nuanced character studies, it will likely resonate deeply. For me, though, the experience felt more contemplative than captivating. Thoughtful and well-written, but not quite moving enough to linger long after the final page. This was three stars for me. 

During the winter, I worry about the birds, foxes, and deer that visit our yard on a regular basis. In Winter World, Bernd Heinrich explains that many of them have mechanisms and ways to survive so maybe I don't need to worry too much. What could have been a straightforward natural history of how animals survive the cold becomes, in Heinrich’s hands, something more intimate: a meditation on adaptation, endurance, solitude, and awe.

Blending memoir with scientific observation, Heinrich documents the winter lives of creatures in and around his Maine woods, chickadees that can lower their body temperature to survive brutal nights, frogs that freeze solid and thaw in spring, insects that rely on antifreeze-like chemicals, mammals that gamble on stored fat. His explanations are clear and often fascinating, and he has a gift for translating complex biological processes into language that feels accessible without being simplistic.

That said, I had mixed and complicated feelings about some of the experiments he describes. Several of them feel driven primarily by personal curiosity rather than a clearly articulated research framework, and there are instances where he captures wild animals to conduct experiments that ultimately result in the animal’s death. While Heinrich is transparent about what he’s doing, and while such practices may not be unusual in certain scientific contexts, reading these passages was unsettling. At times, the tone borders on casual in ways that made the work seem more scientifically irresponsible than rigorously controlled.

The book also straddles an interesting line between science and memoir. It is undeniably grounded in biology, but it also contains plenty of personal reflection and non-scientific assumptions about behavior, motivation, and meaning in the natural world. For some readers, that blend will be the book’s greatest strength; for others, it may blur the boundaries between observation and interpretation a bit too freely.

Ultimately, Winter World transforms the coldest season into one of quiet brilliance. Even with my reservations, I finished the book more attentive to the frost on my own windows, more curious about the birds at my feeder, and more aware of the invisible dramas unfolding in the snow. It’s an absorbing, thought-provoking read, one that inspires wonder, even as it invites debate about the costs of curiosity. Three and a half stars rounded up.  

What are you making and reading this first Wednesday in March?