Books on Thursday

I finished one book this week, but it was an interesting one.

Joe Biden devoted his life to public service, guided by a genuine concern for others and a desire to do the greatest good for the greatest number of people. Jill was by his side for much of that journey, and together they have endured more than their share of personal heartbreak, something that, sadly, continues even now. I wish them both peace, comfort, and all the best in the years ahead.

That being said, I read View from the East Wing hoping for a deeper, substantive memoir from Jill Biden. Instead, much of the book focuses on feel-good anecdotes about White House life, like Christmas decorations, teaching classes, grading papers in the Rose Garden, and other behind-the-scenes moments that, while pleasant enough, never felt particularly revealing.

What I was most interested in was Jill Biden's perspective on Joe Biden's disastrous debate performance against Donald Trump. That section was easily the most compelling part of the book. According to her account, both she and Joe immediately knew he had "f***ed up". She writes that she wondered whether he was having a stroke or had somehow been poisoned. I remember watching the debate and wondering if he was experiencing a stroke or TIA myself, especially after the now-infamous "we finally beat Medicare" comment.

What surprised me most was what happened next: they went to Waffle House. Personally, if I genuinely thought my spouse might be having a stroke, I think I would have skipped Waffle House and headed straight to the ER. That detail left me with more questions than answers.

Overall, this memoir never quite became the book I hoped for. There are warm family stories and plenty of optimistic moments, but I finished wishing for more substance, more candor, and a deeper examination of the events and challenges that defined the Biden presidency. For readers looking for a comforting portrait of Jill Biden, this may be satisfying. For those hoping for sharper insights and a more revealing account, it may feel somewhat superficial. Three stars from me. 

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

Unraveled Wednesday: 6/24/26

I’m happy to join Kat and the Unravelers today with more of the kitchen towel. I know it's not exciting knitting, so I tried to take some slightly different photos. 

Justin and Jess have been with John this week, fishing in the Blackfoot River in Montana, so I've been checking on their cats. It's fine but it's honestly been a lot of driving to go down to their house, check on the automatic feeders to make sure they're not blocked (they always are), clean the litterboxes, water plants, collect mail and packages, put the trash out, etc. ....

So I decided to take my knitting yesterday and see if I could convince Nugget to pose with it for some pictures. A few treats were required to make that happen.

This is on Justin and Jess' oven so I could get an idea of how far along I was. 

Maybe a bit more than halfway? I was picturing gifting a stack (maybe three or four) of these to Ryan at Christmas, but it's looking like that stack might consist of only two towels. We'll see. 

What are you making this last Wednesday in June?  

Read With Us Lounge: 6/22/26

One of the things I hope we'll do together in the Read With Us Summer Reading Lounge is question some of the assumptions we carry around about books and reading. So my question this week is:

What makes a book "summer reading"?

When someone says they're looking for a good summer read, most of us probably have an idea of what that means. But when you stop and think about it, it's surprisingly difficult to define.

Is it the setting? A book that takes place at the beach, on vacation, or during a long hot summer?

Is it the tone? Something light, fun, and easy to read while sitting on a porch or beside a pool?

Is it the pacing? A page-turner that keeps you reading long after you planned to turn out the light?

Or maybe it's nostalgia. Perhaps a "summer read" is whatever reminds us of childhood summers when school was out and we had long stretches of time to disappear into a book.

It could even be marketing. Publishers and booksellers certainly have ideas about what belongs on a summer reading list, and every year we see displays filled with the latest beach reads, thrillers, romances, and family dramas.

It could simply be reading that happens in the summer. 

But I wonder if summer reading is really much more personal than that.

For some people, summer is the season when they finally have time to tackle a long classic they've been putting off for years. For others, it's the perfect time for mysteries, romance novels, memoirs, graphic novels, or rereading old favorites. Maybe a summer read is simply any book that arrives at the right moment.

I know my own definition has changed over the years. There was a time when I would have said summer reading was light and entertaining, like when I used to check out ten Nancy Drew mysteries from the library. Now I'm not so sure. Some of my most memorable summer reading experiences have involved books that were thoughtful, challenging, or even a little difficult.

So I'm curious:

• What makes a book feel like summer reading to you?

• Are there certain genres you gravitate toward in the summer?

• Do you intentionally choose lighter books, or do you read whatever appeals to you?

• Can a serious or literary novel be a perfect summer read?

• What's the best "summer reading" book you've ever read, and what made it feel that way?

As always in the Read With Us Summer Reading Lounge, there are no wrong answers and no reading rules. Read what you want, when you want, and tell us about it. I'm looking forward to hearing your thoughts.

I like this question because it gets at one of the themes of the Lounge: challenging the idea that there is a "right" way to read or a particular kind of book we should be reading at any given time.

I hope you're enjoying hanging out in the Read With Us Lounge so far. Be sure and visit Kym and Carole to see what they're talking about today.  

Books on Thursday

I read three books this week. One was a recommendation from Jane; one was a rediscovery and reread after three decades, and one was nonfiction that made me think. 

Street Haunting was my introduction to the writing of Virginia Woolf thanks to Jane, and after finishing this collection of essays, I'm curious to try some of her fiction next.

Woolf's writing style is fascinating, evocative, observant, and packed with vivid details. Even when she's describing something as ordinary as a walk through the streets of London, she notices small moments and textures that most people would overlook. Her essays often feel less like arguments and more like invitations to see the world through her eyes.

As with most essay collections, some pieces resonated with me more than others. A few felt dated or simply didn't capture my interest, but the strongest essays were excellent and made the collection worthwhile. My favorite was "How Should One Read a Book?" In it, Woolf celebrates the freedom and pleasure of reading without rigid rules, a message that still feels fresh and relevant today. 

 

Woolf's writing speaks better for itself than I ever could. While I didn't love every essay equally, I admired her intelligence, her powers of observation, and her ability to transform everyday experiences into something memorable. A rewarding introduction to an author I've long meant to read, and one that has encouraged me to finally pick up some of her novels. Three and a half stars rounded up.  

 

I first read Harvesting the Heart by Jodi Picoult in 1993, shortly after my second son was born. Over the years I remembered it fondly and looked for it several times, although I somehow convinced myself that it had been written by Hilma Wolitzer. I was excited to find it again for a reread.

 

Reading a novel about new motherhood hits very differently when the baby you were caring for the first time around has just turned 33. As a young mother, I identified with Paige's uncertainty, exhaustion, and fierce love for her child. Now, with the perspective that comes from decades of parenting, I found myself noticing different aspects of the story, the strains on a marriage, the lingering effects of family history, and the ways people struggle to understand one another.

This isn't Picoult at her most polished or ambitious, and some of the plot developments feel melodramatic by today's standards. Still, I found the emotional core of the novel convincing. The depiction of early motherhood, in particular, rang true, capturing both its joys and its isolating challenges. Paige's mistakes can be frustrating, but they also feel recognizably human.

While Harvesting the Heart didn't have quite the same impact on me as it did when I first read it more than three decades ago, it remained an entertaining and heartfelt read. Revisiting it offered not only a chance to evaluate the book itself but also a reminder of how much a reader can change over time. Sometimes the most interesting part of a reread is discovering the distance between who you were then and who you are now. Three stars. 

 

I borrowed Comfortable with Uncertainty from the library, hoping for something like an instruction manual, a practical guide that would teach me how to become more comfortable with uncertainty. Instead, what I found was something both simpler and more challenging.

Pema Chödrön's central message seems to be that there are no instructions. There is no formula for eliminating uncertainty, no set of steps that will guarantee peace of mind. Rather, the practice is learning to stop resisting life's inherent unpredictability and to meet whatever arises with openness, curiosity, and compassion.

That may sound frustratingly circular to readers looking for concrete advice, and at times I found myself wishing for more practical guidance. Yet as I continued reading, I began to understand that this longing for certainty and clear answers is exactly what Chödrön is encouraging us to examine. The discomfort we feel when things are unresolved isn't a problem to solve but a reality to face.

As with many collections of teachings and reflections, some sections resonated with me more than others. Chödrön's writing is warm, accessible, and often insightful, but there were passages that felt repetitive. Still, I frequently found myself pausing to reflect on an idea or reread a particularly meaningful passage.

In the end, I didn't come away with a roadmap for becoming comfortable with uncertainty. I came away with the realization that comfort may not be the goal at all. Instead, the book invites us to drop our expectations, stop grasping for certainty, and learn to face whatever comes with an open heart. That's easier said than done, but still an important lesson.Three stars.

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

Unraveled Wednesday: 6/17/26

I’m happy to join Kat and the Unravelers today with some less-than-exciting knitting. The kitchen towel is back, and it’s now a bit longer than the last time you saw it.

I’ve been on a roll with this project. The knitting is both wonderfully mindless and relaxing, making it easy to pick up throughout the day. I’ve worked on it outside while listening to the birds and using Merlin, while waiting for loads of laundry to finish, and even at the auto body shop.

John had a car accident last week (he’s okay), but he left for a fishing trip this week, so I had to meet the insurance adjuster at the body shop while he inspected the damage. The knitting may not be exciting, but this towel has been getting around.

Later this afternoon, I’m taking it with me to Justin and Jess’s house, where I’ll be checking on my grand-kitties, Nugget and Fletch. The towel may be clamoring for even more adventures before it’s finally finished.

What are you making this Wednesday in June?

  

Read With Us Lounge: 6/15/26

I've been forced to change my comment settings because I was inundated with stupid spam. Currently it's set for users with Google accounts. I'm sorry to do this and don't mean to make things more cumbersome for my valued readers as I do appreciate your comments. I also chose to moderate all comments, so please submit your comments (just once!) and they will be visible after I moderate and publish them. Sorry and thank you! Now, back to the much more relaxing Read With Us Lounge.

Today in the Read With Us Lounge I'm wondering if star ratings help or flatten the reading experience? Can a deeply meaningful book still be just 3 stars?

If you've spent any time on Goodreads, StoryGraph, or Bookstagram, you've probably noticed that star ratings have become one of the dominant ways we talk about books. Before we know anything about a novel's themes, characters, or emotional impact, we often know whether someone gave it two stars or five.

But what do those stars actually tell us?

Star ratings are useful. They offer a quick shorthand for our reactions and help us keep track of what we've read. They can guide recommendations and make it easier to spot patterns in our own reading lives. Looking back at a year's worth of books, a rating system can reveal surprising things about our tastes.

But I think star ratings can also flatten the reading experience. A single number has to carry the weight of hundreds of pages, dozens of emotions, and countless personal connections. The result is that books with very different strengths and weaknesses often end up receiving the same score.

Think about two books you rated three stars. One may have been a perfectly competent novel that entertained you for a weekend and was forgotten a month later. I would choose On Chesil Beach by Ian McEwan for this example. Lovely prose but not much else for me. The other may have been a challenging, flawed, but unforgettable work that raised difficult questions and stayed in your mind for a long time. This one for me is Better: A Surgeon's Notes on Performance by Atul Gawande. I probably think about this book at least six or eight times a year. My star ratings are identical, but my experiences were not.

This raises an interesting question for me: Can a deeply meaningful book still be just three stars?

I would answer yes.

We often assume that ratings measure importance, but they may actually measure enjoyment, or some combination of enjoyment, craft, originality, emotional impact, and personal timing. A book can be significant without being entirely successful. It can provoke thought without being pleasurable. It can change the way we see the world while also frustrating us as readers.

Some of the books that generate the best discussions fall into this category. They may have pacing issues, unlikeable characters, or uneven writing, yet they tackle subjects that linger long after the final page. We may admire them more than we enjoy them. We may be grateful we read them even if we would hesitate to recommend them broadly.

In book groups especially, the most interesting conversations often emerge from books that land somewhere in the middle. A universally beloved five-star read can generate enthusiastic agreement, but a three-star book can produce debate. Kym, Carole, and I have purposefully not chosen some books that we thought everyone would love (e.g. Tom Lake) because we were afraid there would be little discussion and we would all just sit around saying how much we enjoyed the book. Readers bring different experiences, values, and expectations, revealing just how subjective reading can be.

Perhaps the real limitation of star ratings is not that they exist, but that they sometimes become the entire conversation. I have long wished that Goodreads would allow for the awarding of half stars, but even that wouldn't really solve the star issue. When we focus too much on assigning a number, we risk overlooking the richer questions: Why did this book affect me? What challenged me? What frustrated me? What will I remember a year from now?

A star rating can capture a verdict, but it rarely captures the whole picture. Maybe I should stop depending on them so much! 

Things to think about:

• What factors influence your star ratings most: enjoyment, literary quality, emotional impact, originality, something else, or all of them together?

• Have you ever given three stars to a book that you still think about years later?

• Is there a difference between a "good" book and an "important" book?

• Do you rate books based on your personal experience or on what you believe the author achieved?

• Have star ratings changed the way you choose books or talk about them with other readers?

• If you had to give up either written reviews or star ratings, which would you keep?

Be sure and check with Kym and Carole to see what they're thinking about today!

Books on Thursday

I've been forced to change my comment settings this morning because I was inundated with stupid spam. Currently it's set for users with Google accounts. I'm sorry to do this and don't mean to make things more cumbersome for my valued readers as I do appreciate your comments. I also chose to moderate all comments, so please submit your comments (just once!) and they will be visible after I moderate and publish them. Sorry and thank you!

I read two books this week; both of them are pre-publication copies. 

For about three-quarters of Country People, I was convinced I was reading a five-star novel.

Daniel Mason creates a wonderfully eccentric world populated by characters who are odd without feeling cartoonish, and he balances humor, lyricism, and genuine emotional insight with remarkable ease. Miles is a lovable mess of a protagonist, perpetually distracted, endlessly curious, and forever chasing the next fascinating idea rather than finishing the things already on his plate. His struggles with marriage, parenthood, ambition, and self-worth give the novel a surprisingly sturdy emotional center beneath all its whimsy.

I enjoyed the community of misfits and others that Miles encounters in Vermont. My favorite among them was the character inspired by Snowflake Bentley and his endlessly fascinating "Inventory of Wrong Ideas", a catalog of humanity's mistaken beliefs and discarded certainties. That project felt perfectly suited to a novel so interested in stories, myths, and the strange things people choose to believe.

Unfortunately, the book lost me when it became increasingly invested in the local legend of an underground kingdom. Up to that point, the novel's magic had come from its blend of recognizable human struggles and delightfully quirky characters. As the plot shifted toward unraveling this bizarre legend, the story began to feel less focused and more self-indulgent. What had seemed charmingly eccentric started veering into territory that felt unnecessarily loony.

The ending was the biggest disappointment. After such a rich and engaging build-up, the novel seemed to fizzle out rather than arrive anywhere meaningful. The two epilogues only reinforced that feeling for me, extending a conclusion that was already struggling to land and drawing attention away from the characters and relationships I had become invested in.

Even so, there's an enormous amount to admire here. Mason is a gifted writer, and many passages are genuinely beautiful. The novel is packed with intelligence, warmth, humor, and affection for human oddity. I just wish it had trusted the strengths that made the first part of the book so wonderful instead of disappearing down its own metaphorical rabbit hole. This fascinating, frequently delightful novel was 3.5 stars overall for me, rounded up because the story was exceptional in the beginning. 

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

Ann Cleeves continues to prove why she is one of the most reliable voices in contemporary crime fiction with The Dying Light, a strong fourth installment in the Matthew Venn series. Set against a sweltering Devon heatwave, the novel combines a compelling mystery with the author's trademark exploration of family dynamics, community tensions, and the secrets people keep hidden behind carefully constructed facades.

The plot begins with the death of a young woman found in a swimming pool and the disappearance of her best friend, but what initially appears straightforward quickly grows more complex. Cleeves expertly peels back layer after layer of deception, drawing connections between local residents, holidaymakers, politics, social media, and long-buried grievances. The oppressive summer heat and the claustrophobic atmosphere of a small community under scrutiny create a palpable sense of tension throughout.

What continues to elevate this series for me, however, is Matthew Venn himself. In this novel, he feels increasingly confident and mature in his role as a detective. He has grown into his leadership position, trusting his team while still displaying the empathy and thoughtful observation that make him such an effective investigator. Rather than relying on dramatic breakthroughs, Venn solves cases by listening carefully and noticing what others overlook.

I also appreciated the continued development of his personal life. His relationship with his husband, Jonathan, remains one of the series' strengths. Their marriage feels authentic and lived-in, providing warmth and stability amid the darkness of the investigation. Cleeves portrays their partnership with a quiet tenderness and respect that adds emotional depth without overwhelming the mystery.

Equally compelling is Matthew's still-fractured relationship with his mother. The wounds left by his upbringing in the strict religious community that rejected him have not magically healed, and the novel continues to explore the complicated mixture of love, resentment, obligation, and grief that defines their connection. These scenes add a layer of emotional realism that makes Matthew far more than just another detective protagonist.

This book was four stars for me. My only reason for not rating the book higher is that some sections felt a bit slower than necessary, particularly in the middle, as the investigation broadened and the cast of suspects expanded. Still, the payoff is satisfying, and the resolution feels both believable and emotionally resonant.

The Dying Light is a thoughtful, character-driven mystery that balances an intricate plot with genuine emotional insight. Fans of the series will enjoy seeing Matthew Venn continue to grow both professionally and personally, while newcomers will find a well-crafted crime novel that stands comfortably on its own. I am anxiously looking forward to the next book in the series. Thank you to NetGalley and St. Martin' Press for providing me with a copy of this book. It will be published on September 29, 2026. 

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

Unraveled Wednesday: 6/10/26

I’m happy to join Kat and the Unravelers today with a new project on my needles. It was hot last week and I had an unusually busy social calendar, so I didn't work on Justin's hat at all. This week is moderately busy but my new project is wonderfully portable and easy to pick up whenever I have a few spare minutes. 

I was at a loss about what to make Ryan for Christmas. He already has plenty of handwarmers, scarves, hats, and potholders. He doesn’t wear sweaters (which is just as well, since I rarely knit them). But when I was at his house the other day, a lightbulb went off: dish towels! 

Ryan cooks for us whenever we visit and cooks for himself most days as well. The other day I noticed he was using a truly ratty dish towel, complete with multiple holes. I didn’t even nag him about it. Instead, I thought that three or four handknit dish towels would make a perfect Christmas gift, and some wonderfully relaxing summer knitting for me.

I ordered some Dishie and Cotlin from KnitPicks, but while I’m waiting for the yarn to arrive, I cast on this lovely bright blue cotton for a Chili Pepper Red Kitchen Towel (although mine is obviously not red). The pattern is a simple two-row repeat, and I enlarged it slightly because I’m not a fan of skimpy kitchen towels.

I have three or four other towel patterns I’d like to try, and I think knitting a collection of dish towels for Ryan will be the perfect companion project while I work on the duplicate stitching for Justin’s hat. If I have time, and if I’m not completely tired of knitting with cotton, I may even make one or two for myself.

What are you making as we approach mid-June?

 

Read With Us: Time for a Discussion

 

Today is the discussion day for our Read With Us spring book, Good People by Patmeena Sabit. 

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 raced through this book the first time I read it, and then read it a second time where I discovered many things I had missed or forgotten. I think this discussion will be valuable for me, and I hope for others of you as well. 

Good People seems especially well-suited to discussion because it raises questions about truth, family loyalty, reputation, immigration, community judgment, and the limits of perspective. Here is my question: The novel repeatedly asks readers to reconsider their judgments. What do you think are the most important lessons the book offers about understanding other people?

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 unique 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!

Read With Us Lounge: 6/8/26

 

One of the quietest pressures many readers carry has nothing to do with time or attention span. It’s the endless chorus of reading “shoulds.”

We should read the classics.
We should read the prize winners.
We should finally tackle that intimidating novel everyone else seems to have read in college.
We should read serious books, educational books, important books.
We should read book series in order.
We should keep up with best sellers.
We should always have an audiobook going while we fold laundry, commute, exercise, or walk the dog.
We should finish every book we start.

At some point, reading can begin to feel less like pleasure and more like homework with no due date.

One of the things we hope to do in the Read With Us Lounge this summer is gently question those “shoulds.” Not because classics or award winners or ambitious reading goals are bad (they absolutely aren’t) but because reading is deeply personal, and our reading lives change over time. The books that nourish us at one stage of life may not be the books we need at another.

Sometimes the most meaningful reading experience comes from picking up the exact “wrong” book at the exact right moment.

Maybe you discover that you actually prefer reading contemporary romance to literary fiction. Maybe you abandon a 600-page masterpiece halfway through and feel relieved instead of guilty. Maybe you read children’s books for comfort, reread old favorites from your teenage years, or spend an entire summer immersed in mysteries, cookbooks, essays, graphic novels, or cozy fantasy. Maybe you decide silence is better than forcing yourself to listen to audiobooks just because everyone else seems to multitask their reading.

Challenging our reading “shoulds” can feel surprisingly uncomfortable at first. Many of us learned early on that some books were “good for us” while others were considered fluff, escapism, or a waste of time. But joy matters. Curiosity matters. Rest matters. Reading for delight matters.

And often, when we let go of obligation, something unexpected happens: we read more honestly. We become more adventurous. We notice our real tastes instead of the tastes we think we’re supposed to have. We stop performing as readers and start becoming ourselves again.

That doesn’t mean abandoning challenging books forever. Sometimes we truly want to wrestle with a classic or work our way through a demanding nonfiction title. But there’s a difference between choosing a difficult book because we’re interested in it and forcing ourselves through it out of guilt or fear of not being “well read.”

This summer, consider asking yourself:

• What reading “shoulds” have shaped my reading life?

• Which ones actually enrich my reading experience?

• Which ones make reading feel stressful, competitive, or performative?

• What kinds of books do I secretly love?

• What would happen if I gave myself full permission to read exactly what I want?

Maybe the answer is that you really do love classics. Maybe the answer is dragon-filled fantasy novels, celebrity memoirs, nature writing, romance, rereading childhood favorites, or checking out giant stacks of random library books with no plan whatsoever.

All of it counts.

I'll start by admitting that I have occasionally chosen a book to read because it seems like everyone is reading it, and I don't want to miss out. The latest example of this is The Unselected Journals of Emma M. Lion. I checked out the first four volumes from hoopla and happily started listening. Over the course of a week, I thought that maybe I was just more interested in other books and returned them. I  tried twice more to listen to Volume I, and have finally decided these are just not for me. All telling, no showing, and just too much forced whimsy. I finally admitted that these books are just not for me at this time. I felt quite a sense of relief when I gave myself permission to stop trying and move on. 

Be sure and check with Kym and Carole for their take on reading "shoulds". 

So tell us: What “shoulds” do you carry around reading? Have you challenged any of them? And when you do, are you happier as a reader? We would love to know!  

Books on Thursday

I finished two books this week, and they were both a little outside of my usual reading. Sarah recommended this first one, and since I seem to be on a memoir streak, I gave it a try. 

In How to Lose Your Mother, Molly Jong-Fast writes with a voice that is unmistakably her own, sharp, self-aware, anxious, funny, exhausting, and often brutally candid all at once. The memoir moves quickly between humor, resentment, grief, celebrity gossip, family history, and the slow devastation of Erica Jong’s dementia. At times the tone feels almost frenetic, but that energy also feels true to the life she’s describing. Even when I wasn’t fully invested, I was rarely bored.

One of the most compelling aspects of the book is its complicated portrait of motherhood and daughterhood. Jong-Fast clearly spent much of her life longing for stability and attention from a mother who was consumed by fame, relationships, ambition, her own needs, and addiction to alcohol. The title itself captures the emotional core of the memoir: how do you mourn a mother you never really had in the first place? Some passages about caregiving, aging, and anticipatory grief were genuinely moving.

I listened to the audiobook, which added another interesting layer to the experience. Molly Jong-Fast has a very distinctive narration style and voice. At first I found it a little jarring , clipped, intense, almost breathless at times and strident at others , but as the memoir went on it started to feel perfectly matched to the story she was telling and the emotional chaos underneath it.

In the end, I think readers who enjoy messy family memoirs, literary gossip, and emotionally complicated mother-daughter stories will probably get the most out of this one. I didn’t love every moment, but I appreciated its honesty and refusal to sentimentalize difficult relationships. This is a story about a little girl who didn't get what she needed from her mother while she was growing up, and that's a sad story no matter the circumstances. Three and a half stars.

Sally Hepworth has built a reputation for writing domestic suspense with sharp humor and memorable characters, and Mad Mabel leans heavily into both strengths. Part mystery, part character study, and part dark comedy, this novel follows eighty-one-year-old Elsie Mabel Fitzpatrick, a woman whose prickly exterior hides a lifetime of secrets, and possibly a trail of bodies.

The strongest aspect of the book is undoubtedly Mabel herself. She's nosy, opinionated, unapologetically difficult, and far more complex than she initially appears. Hepworth does an excellent job balancing Mabel's sharp edges with enough vulnerability to make readers invested in her story. The friendship that develops between Mabel and her young neighbor Persephone is also unexpectedly charming and provides much of the novel's heart.

The dual timelines gradually reveal Mabel's past, and while the mystery kept me turning pages, some of the twists felt more entertaining than surprising. The pacing occasionally lagged a bit in the middle. The novel's blend of humor and darker subject matter is mostly successful, though at times the tonal shifts felt a little uneven.

What ultimately makes Mad Mabel work is its exploration of justice, redemption, and the assumptions we make about people based on age and appearance. It's a clever premise that asks readers to reconsider who gets labeled "dangerous" and who gets overlooked. It is an engaging, quirky mystery with a memorable protagonist and enough twists to keep suspense fans satisfied. Three and a half stars rounded up.   

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

Unraveled Wednesday: 6/3/26

I’m happy to join Kat and the Unravelers today with a completed barn owl in duplicate stitching. 

I've been sitting outside in the shade in the afternoon and stitching. This has worked well because I've got plenty of natural light to make stitching easier. It's also been really beautiful so I'm enjoying my time stitching outdoors. You can see a little bit of brown and gray to the right of the owl; those stitches mark the beginning of the ear of the next animal, a wolf.  

 

I'm still knitting dishcloths as a no-stress break from stitching, but I don't think you need to see a photo of a couple of dishcloths. They are definitely not too exciting, but I do have an idea for a different, small, non-stressful bit of knitting. I'll try to cast that on this week and see what my idea looks like.  

 

What are you making this first Wednesday in June?  

Read With Us Lounge: 6/1/26

Welcome to the Read With Us Lounge, our brand-new online adult summer reading program!

This summer, we’re throwing out the rules, the pressure, the reading quotas, and the guilt. Read With Us Lounge is built around one simple idea: No rules. Just fun. 

We know that many of us carry around a lot of ideas about what “counts” as good reading. Maybe we think we should be reading more classics, more nonfiction, more award winners, fewer thrillers, fewer romances, fewer rereads, fewer graphic novels, listening to fewer audiobooks. Maybe we feel guilty for abandoning books or for reading something light when the world feels heavy.

This summer, we’d like to challenge those notions together.

Read With Us Lounge is an anti-book bingo experience. No rules. No assigned categories. No pressure to optimize your reading life. Just an open invitation to read whatever feels right to you.

Want to spend the summer immersed in cozy mysteries, giant fantasy novels, beach reads, food writing, poetry, fan fiction, childhood favorites, or books with dragons? Excellent. Want to reread beloved books instead of chasing the newest release? Wonderful. Want to listen to audiobooks while gardening or walking the dog? That's great, too.

Our goals are simple:

• Challenge the assumptions we hold about reading and books
• Encourage joyful, pressure-free reading
• Build camaraderie and community through questions, conversations, and shared experiences
• Gather for a couple of casual LOUNGE hang-outs via Zoom
• Distract ourselves from the daily horrors in the news for a little while

Throughout the summer, look for our blog posts on Mondays where we’ll post discussion prompts, conversation starters, and questions designed to get us thinking and talking. These are definitely not meant as a test of whether you “did the homework” because there is none. There are no reading minimums and no expectations except kindness and curiosity.

Think of the Lounge as a comfortable chair, a cold drink, a stack of books, and a group of fellow readers who are happy you showed up exactly as you are.

So bring your library stack, your neglected TBR pile, your weird reading habits, your favorite rereads, and your enthusiasm. Or your reading slump. Those are welcome too.

Read what you want. Join us in the Lounge this summer for No rules. Just fun. 

Books on Thursday

I read three books this week, two ARCs and one already published book. A couple of them were just average, but I've read a lot of stellar books lately and they can't all be five stars. 

The Left and the Lucky was something I checked out on the spur of the moment. It is filled with empathy and bruised humanity, and at its best, the novel offers a moving portrait of connection between damaged people trying to survive difficult lives. Eddie, the lonely house painter carrying decades of guilt, and young Russell, desperate for safety and kindness, form the emotional core of the story, and their growing bond is genuinely tender. Vlautin writes beautifully about small mercies: a shared meal, a little work to do, a quiet place to sit, someone finally paying attention. Those moments feel earned and deeply human.

But for me, the novel’s relentless bleakness eventually became overwhelming. There is more than enough sibling abuse, substance abuse, neglect, poverty, violence, and child abandonment to go around, and while Vlautin clearly approaches his characters with compassion rather than judgment, the accumulation of misery sometimes overwhelmed the story entirely. Curtis, Russell's brother, is portrayed with such frightening volatility that many scenes become difficult to read, and the constant sense of danger hanging over Russell made the reading experience emotionally exhausting.

That makes the kindness Eddie offers all the more meaningful, but it also means those quieter moments can feel buried beneath wave after wave of suffering. I appreciated what Vlautin was trying to do ,show how even fragile acts of care can alter a life, and there are passages here that are heartbreakingly lovely. Still, I found myself wishing for a little more balance and breathing room amid the despair.

Readers who appreciate stark, working-class literary fiction with deeply compassionate characters will likely find much to admire here. While I respected the novel more than I enjoyed it, Eddie and Russell’s relationship lingered with me even after I finished the final page. This was three stars for me. 

Barry Werth’s The Age of Cures is an ambitious history of the rise of the American pharmaceutical industry, tracing the scientific breakthroughs that transformed medicine between the 1930s and 1960s. Werth clearly did an enormous amount of research, and the book is packed with details about the development of antibiotics, vaccines, cortisone, and the partnerships between universities, government, and private industry that reshaped modern healthcare.

What worked best for me was the sense of scale. Werth captures how terrifying illness once was before the arrival of so-called “miracle drugs,” and he effectively shows how quickly medicine evolved within just a few decades. Some sections, particularly those dealing with the race to develop penicillin and the polio vaccine, were genuinely compelling and gave me a new appreciation for the scientists and institutions involved.

That said, I found the book uneven as a reading experience. The level of detail can become overwhelming, and the narrative sometimes gets bogged down in long explanations of corporate structures, research funding, and scientific politics. While those elements are obviously important to the story Werth is telling, they occasionally overwhelm the book. I also struggled to connect emotionally with most of the people involved because the cast of researchers, executives, and institutions is so large.

Overall, this is a thoughtful and deeply researched work of medical history that will probably appeal most to readers with a strong interest in science, medicine, or the pharmaceutical industry. I admired it more than I loved it, but I still came away with a greater understanding of how modern medicine and America’s pharmaceutical dominance came to be. Three stars from me.

Thank you to Edelweiss and Simon & Schuster for providing me with a copy of the book. It will be published on September 22, 2026.

Mary Beth Keane’s Whale Harbor is a sprawling family novel that feels both intimate and epic at the same time. Inspired by Keane’s own family history, the story follows eleven brothers whose lives diverge after tragedy fractures their family in Ireland. Some remain behind while others emigrate to Montana and New York, building new lives marked by hardship, loyalty, silence, and longing. At the center of it all is the mystery of a missing brother, Rian, whose absence echoes through generations.

What impressed me most was Keane’s ability to make such a large cast feel emotionally distinct and fully human. Multi-generational novels can sometimes become overwhelming, but here each brother and branch of the family carries its own emotional weight. The novel explores immigration, identity, masculinity, grief, and family obligation without ever feeling heavy-handed. Keane writes with tremendous compassion for her characters, even when they make frustrating or heartbreaking choices.

The emotional texture of the book is what lingered with me most. There’s a quiet sadness running beneath much of the story, but also resilience and tenderness. Keane captures the complicated ways families carry both love and damage across decades. The sections set in New York and Montana were especially vivid, and the immigrant experience felt grounded in the daily realities of work, survival, and reinvention rather than romanticized nostalgia.

I also appreciated the pacing and structure. Despite covering so many years and perspectives, the novel never felt rushed. Keane allows relationships and tensions to develop naturally, and the central mystery of Rian's estrangment gives the story an emotional pull that keeps unfolding right up to the end.

My only slight hesitation is that a few characters inevitably receive less depth simply because the scope is so ambitious. There were moments when I wanted to stay longer with certain family members before the narrative moved on. But honestly, that feeling also speaks to how invested I became in their lives.

Overall, this was a beautifully written and deeply absorbing family saga, rich with history, heartbreak, and humanity. Fans of literary fiction centered on family dynamics and immigration stories will find a lot to love here. I’ll be thinking about these characters for a long time. 4.5 stars rounded up.

Thank you to NetGalley and Scribner for providing me with a copy of this book. It will be published on November 3, 2026.

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

Unraveled Wednesday: 5/27/26

I’m happy to join Kat and the Unravelers today with some more duplicate stitching, a completed dishcloth, and a start on another one. 

 

I've finished the raccoon, complete with his eyes, and the deer now has eyes, a nose, and outlined ears. Up next is a barn owl. I've only completed the counting and placement of the first stitch, but I think I'll enjoy stitching this one. It has large areas of the same color, which means I have less chance of misplacing stitches.

A photo of a dishcloth isn't terribly exciting, but knitting keeps me from going crazy when I'm not duplicate stitching. I'm not sure who I'm making dishcloths for, but they will suffice until my rainbow yarn arrives from Must Stash.  

What are you making at the end of May? 

Books on Thursday

I finished two books this week and both of them were ones that although they were not at the top of my list, still provided me with some interesting reading. 

I had placed a hold on Strangers at one of my libraries, but was pleasantly surprised to find it available at my second library, so I checked it out and started listening. Belle Burden’s memoir is a reasonably well-written and often compelling account about the one-sided collapse of a marriage. The early pandemic setting adds a claustrophobia to the story, and there’s no denying the emotional devastation of having a partner of twenty years abruptly decide he no longer wants the life you built together. Burden writes candidly about grief, confusion, humiliation, and the slow process of reclaiming herself after betrayal.

At the same time, this memoir is filled with red flags that made it difficult for me to completely lose myself in the narrative. The biggest one was Burden handing over complete financial control to her husband. I simply could not understand that choice at all, regardless of how much wealth and privilege she may have come from. Burden writes openly about how she chose not to know, and the book becomes a cautionary tale about dependence and the dangers of surrendering autonomy within a marriage.

Burden is honest about being raised in a wealthy socialite world, and while she can’t help the circumstances of her birth, I do think that wealth cushioned many of the practical and emotional circumstances of the divorce. There’s still real pain here, of course, but it’s impossible not to notice the safety nets available to her that many women would never have.

What stayed with me most, though, were the children. The unraveling of the marriage is sad, but the most heartbreaking aspect is the portrait of a father who seems anxious to walk away not only from his wife, but from his three children as well. That complete emotional abandonment lingers over the entire memoir. Her children ranged in age from 12-17 at the time their father abruptly discarded them, and they are now 17-22 years of age. I would be interested in reading their accounts of what this has felt like for them now that they are young adults.

Overall, this is an engaging and emotionally raw read, even if I sometimes found myself more frustrated than sympathetic. I’d recommend it to readers who enjoy memoirs about marriage, identity, and reinvention after betrayal. Three and a half stars.

 

 

I also checked out Malibu Rising at the same time. I've only read one other book by Taylor Jenkins Reid (Daisy Jones & the Six) and enjoyed it, so I thought this one might provide some entertainment. Malibu Rising is definitely a summer read: glossy, dramatic, emotionally engaging, and somewhat difficult to put down once the party gets started. While I wouldn’t call this great literature, it absolutely succeeds as a propulsive, entertaining novel for times when you want something lighter that still has enough heart and family drama to keep you turning the pages.

Set over the course of one chaotic night in 1983 Malibu, the novel follows the four famous Riva siblings as they prepare for (and endure) their legendary annual summer party. Reid does a wonderful job capturing the atmosphere of excess, celebrity culture, surfing, music, and sun-soaked California glamour. The setting feels cinematic in the best way, and it’s easy to imagine this story unfolding in slow-motion montages complete with crashing waves and Fleetwood Mac in the background.

What kept me reading most was the complicated relationship between the siblings themselves. Nina, Jay, Hud, and Kit all carry wounds left by their famously absent father, Mick Riva, and the emotional fallout of their childhood gives the story more substance than the flashy party premise might initially suggests. I especially appreciated the sibling loyalty and the ways they tried, imperfectly, to protect one another.

That said, the novel occasionally leans a little too heavily into melodrama, and some of the secondary characters felt underdeveloped or conveniently sketched in. The frequent shifts into Mick’s backstory also slowed the momentum for me at times, even if they helped explain the family dynamics. By the end, some emotional revelations felt more predictable than profound.

Still, Reid undeniably knows how to craft a compulsively readable story. The pacing is sharp, the dialogue is lively, and the “one wild night that changes everything” structure works incredibly well. Even when the book veers toward soap opera territory, it remains entertaining throughout.

Overall, this was an enjoyable, fast-moving novel with memorable family dynamics, plenty of emotional turbulence, and a vivid Malibu backdrop. Not necessarily a deeply literary experience, but definitely a satisfying read when you’re in the mood for something immersive and fun. Three and a half stars. 

 

Now it's your turn to tell me what you're reading! 

 

Unraveled Wednesday: 5/20/26

I’m happy to join Kat and the Unravelers today with a completed Dream Hitchhiker, a bit more stitching on Justin's Hat 2.0, and even a new bonus project.

The Dream Hitchhiker yarn was a generous gift from a very special person, and I'm happy that I was able to knit it into something soft, warm, and enveloping. I will look forward to getting this out of my Armoire of Handknits ™ on the first chilly day of fall and wrapping its deliciousness around me. It was literally 100 degrees when I went outside to take some pictures, so I scurried back indoors for photos. This is the only modeled shot I'm taking until the temperatures are back in the 50 degree range. 

 

I'm very happy with the size of it (54 teeth) and I really like the three rows of yarnovers I did before casting off. This may be my favorite Hitchhiker so far. 

I've also started the raccoon on Justin's hat 2.0. I've only gotten the top half of his face done, but I am making forward progress. It's been really hot here for the past two days, but I have enjoyed sitting outside in the shade and stitching a bit until my hands get sticky.

On Sunday evening, Justin texted that he and Jess had a wedding cake tasting on Monday in the same town that Ryan lives in. It's not very often that all of us are in the same place at the same time, so John and I decided that we would also go to Ryan's on Monday afternoon so John could tend the garden and then we would all meet up and have dinner. That sounded like a fine plan to me, but I realized that I would be sitting at Ryan's for much of the afternoon without anything to knit! This was completely unacceptable to me, so I grabbed a couple of skeins of kitchen cotton, found my size 7 needle and cast on for a dishcloth. Dishcloths always used to be my emergency projects when we had the house in Elkton and I was away from my stash, and this one served the same purpose. I preordered some lovely rainbow yarn from Must Stash for a possible Christmas present for Ryan, so I may be working on dishcloths until it arrives in a few weeks.

I think I'll be moving my book reviews to Thursdays in the interest of having a little more blog fodder. I am really running out of things to post about but this way I can pretty much guarantee I'll be posting something on Wednesdays and Thursdays at least. 

What are you making on this sweltering hot day (it only supposed to be 98 here today) in May?