Books on Thursday

This week was a nonfiction week for me. One was sad but highly educational and informative and the second one was an exceptional recommendation from Kat. 

 

After reading Robert Kolker's Hidden Valley Road, I was eager to pick up The Vanishing Family. His previous exploration of a family devastated by inherited schizophrenia was both compassionate and fascinating, so a book about another family confronting a devastating genetic legacy immediately caught my attention.

This time Kolker turns his focus to frontotemporal dementia (FTD), following a Pennsylvania family over decades as sibling after sibling faces the possibility and the reality of inheriting a rare genetic mutation. What makes the story so heartbreaking is that the disease often strikes people in the prime of their lives, fundamentally altering their personalities long before their memories disappear. Watching family members struggle to understand what is happening, while living under the constant shadow of a 50/50 chance of developing the disease themselves, creates an almost unbearable sense of tension.

Kolker has a remarkable gift for explaining complicated medical research without losing sight of the people at the center of the story. The science is fascinating, but it never overshadows the emotional weight of the family's experience. Their resilience, grief, disagreements, and determination to contribute to research make them feel like people you come to know rather than simply subjects of a case study.

While the book is deeply moving, I occasionally found myself wishing for a slightly tighter narrative. The scientific discoveries and the many family members can sometimes make the story feel repetitive, especially in the middle sections. Even so, Kolker's empathy for his subjects and his skill as a storyteller kept me engaged throughout.

This is an engrossing blend of medical mystery, family history, and human resilience. Like Hidden Valley Road, it reminds us that behind every scientific breakthrough are real people whose willingness to share their stories may ultimately change countless lives.

Thank you to NetGalley and Doubleday for providing me with a copy of this book. It will be publsihed on September 29, 2026.

On Witness and Respair is a deeply moving collection of essays that feels both intimate and expansive. Jesmyn Ward writes about family, grief, motherhood, race, literature, and the experience of being a writer with the same lyrical intensity that makes her fiction so powerful. There’s a real sense throughout that she is trying to understand how we carry the people and experiences that have shaped us, and how we keep going after loss.

The essays about literature were some of my favorites, particularly Ward’s reflections on Toni Morrison, Richard Wright, and Octavia Butler. I loved seeing how these writers became part of her intellectual and emotional landscape, and how she connects their work to her own life and writing. Her thoughts on what fiction can do and why stories matter also made this feel like a fascinating glimpse into her creative mind.

The titular essay, “On Witness and Respair,” is especially heartbreaking. Ward writes about the sudden death of her partner with tremendous honesty and restraint, capturing both the enormity of grief and the strange, disorienting experience of trying to live alongside it. The book’s idea of “respair”, hope that persists despite everything, is what ultimately stayed with me.

I’ve seen other reviewers mention that they found the essays repetitive, but I didn’t experience them that way. There are certainly recurring themes and ideas, but I appreciated that repetition as part of the collection’s coherence. Ward keeps circling back to family, literature, loss, and resilience from different angles, and each return felt like another layer rather than simply saying the same thing again.

Not every essay resonated with me equally, which is why I landed at four stars rather than five, but there is so much beauty and thoughtfulness here. Ward’s prose is as haunting and gorgeous as ever, and this collection left me thinking about the relationship between grief and hope, and about the stories we inherit and the ones we choose to tell. Thanks for the recommendation, Kat! 

Now I'd like to know what you are reading! 

 

Unraveled Wednesday: 9/16/26

I’m happy to join Kat and the Unravelers today. And guess what; I'm still knitting dishtowels! I'm almost finished with the hurdle stitch one, just a couple more inches to go. I thought I might get it completed yesterday, but Ryan and I ended up talking too much and I had to tink back four rows where I made a mistake. The conversation with my son was well worth a bit of tinking and reknitting. 

I still have a dark purple nested squares towel in progress that I need to get back to after I finish this cream one. Then I think I am done with Christmas gift towels.  I want to return to Justin's hat; there's just one badger left to stitch and then the hat will be complete. The weather is finally cool enough that my fingers don't get sticky stitching with wool yarn. But I still might need to make myself a dish towel now that I know which ones are my favorites. 

What are you making this Wednesday in September? 

Read With Us: Time for a Discussion!

Today is the discussion day for our Read With Us summer book, John of John by Douglas Stuart. 

 

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 it 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.

John of John seems especially well-suited to discussion because it raises questions about family, identity, love, and the complicated ways we inherit both strengths and wounds from the people who came before us. Here is my question: The novel is full of things people cannot or will not say. What secrets and silences seemed most important to you? How does Stuart use what the characters don't say to create tension?

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 think this is my favorite Douglas Stuart novel so far, and one that is also very discussable, so I hope you're able to attend the discussion tonight!

   

Books on Thursday

I read a few books over the past few weeks; two were pretty good, but I was less than enamored with the third one.

Little Princesses is a fascinating glimpse into the childhood of Queen Elizabeth II and Princess Margaret, told by the woman who spent sixteen years as their governess. Marion Crawford, or “Crawfie” as Elizabeth called her, gives us a very different picture of royal life than the polished public image we usually see.

What I enjoyed most was the glimpse of the girls as children rather than as future monarch and princess. Elizabeth comes across as serious, conscientious, and remarkably self-disciplined even at a young age, while Margaret is more mischievous, spirited, and demanding of attention. Crawford clearly loved both girls, and some of the most enjoyable passages describe their everyday activities, like swimming, Girl Guides, outings, vacations, and even riding the Underground. She made a conscious effort to give them experiences outside the sheltered world of royalty.

The book is also particularly interesting as a historical document. Crawford was writing shortly after the upheaval of Edward VIII's abdication, when Elizabeth's unexpected position as heir had transformed the family's life. We see the transition from a relatively quiet family existence to life at Buckingham Palace, and eventually the arrival of Charles. There is plenty of detail about the routines and expectations of royal life that I found entertaining.

That said, the book is somewhat uneven. Crawford's perspective is understandably limited, and she sometimes spends a lot of time on the minutiae of daily life without providing much broader reflection. Knowing what happened to Crawford after publication (that the Queen Mother apparently never forgave her for writing the book) also gives the memoir a rather sad undertone. Crawford obviously regarded her years with the family as an important and loving part of her life, so the eventual estrangement feels particularly poignant.

I also found myself wishing for more insight into the adults and the complicated dynamics within the royal family. Crawford was close to the Queen Mother, but she remains somewhat guarded about certain subjects, and there are moments when I wanted to know more than she was willing or able to tell. 

Little Princesses is worth reading for anyone interested in the British royal family or twentieth-century history. It feels less like a sensational royal tell-all than an affectionate, sometimes nostalgic account of two little girls growing up in an increasingly extraordinary set of circumstances. The historical context and the opportunity to see Elizabeth and Margaret as ordinary children make this an enjoyable memoir. Three and a half stars rounded up. 

 

I liked The Art of Racing in the Rain, although I think I may have enjoyed the movie just a little more than the book (which is not something I say very often).

The story is told from the perspective of Enzo, a dog who is convinced that he has the soul of a human and is waiting for his next life. Through Enzo’s eyes, we follow his owner, Denny, an aspiring race car driver, through love, marriage, parenthood, heartbreak, and some truly heartbreaking challenges. There’s plenty here about racing, but ultimately this is a story about loyalty, family, perseverance, and making the most of the time we’re given.

I think part of the problem for me is that I saw the movie first. Once I had Kevin Costner’s voice in my head as Enzo, it was hard to imagine the character any other way. Costner’s narration gave Enzo a warmth and personality that I found especially appealing. The movie also made a few changes to the story that, in my opinion, actually improved it, particularly the way the situation involving the charge against Denny was handled. I found that version more emotionally satisfying, and the ending was absolutely perfect.

The book certainly has its touching moments, and Enzo is an appealing narrator, but some of the sentimentality worked a little better for me on screen. Maybe if I had read the book first, I would feel differently. This is one of those rare cases where I think the movie edges out the book, but I’m still glad I read it. Three and a half stars, and I wonder why I have mistakenly thought this book was about running in the rain for 18 years. 

 

I understand the idea at the heart of Good Joy, Bad Joy: older women can feel invisible, and after spending a lifetime being the responsible wife, mother, and community member, Joy wants to find out what it might feel like to put herself first. I actually liked that premise and initially had some warm feelings toward Joy.

Unfortunately, I had a hard time getting behind the way she went about reclaiming her sense of freedom. Her first few attempts at breaking the rules seemed relatively harmless and even fun. But as her behavior escalated, Joy begins committing actual crimes, like pulling a fire alarm and speeding, for example, simply because she wants to feel that she's living more boldly. To me, this felt less like liberation or courage and more like immaturity and pettiness. I kept wishing that Joy's rebellion had led her toward something more meaningful than simply doing things she knew she shouldn't do.

I also found myself questioning some of the book's attempts at humor. The premise has plenty of potential for both humor and emotional depth, but the more Joy's antics escalated, the less I connected with her. The friendship between Joy and Hazel was much more appealing to me, and I appreciated the book's exploration of aging, friendship, regret, and the desire to make the most of the time we have left.

Interestingly, I realized that some of my initial affection for Joy may have been coming from the audiobook narration rather than the character herself. Maggi-Meg Reed narrates Joy, and she also narrated Sibyl's voice in The Correspondent, a book I loved. Hearing her voice brought back those positive associations and probably made me more predisposed to like Joy than I otherwise would have been.

There are some worthwhile ideas here about aging, invisibility, friendship, and giving ourselves permission to change. I just didn't find Joy's particular journey toward "Bad Joy" as charming or empowering as I think the author intended. Two and a half stars. 

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

Unraveled Wednesday: 9/9/26

I’m happy to join Kat and the Unravelers today with a finished dish towel and a new one in progress. 

I finished the Nested Squares towel in sagebrush CotLin, so it joins the stack of other towels. 

 

I can't recall how I came across this next pattern, but I liked the stitch it is knit in. It reminded me of waffle stitch, but it's a simple four-row repeat called hurdle stitch. I've been knitting for well over 50 years but this was new to me. This old dog is happy to learn new tricks, especially if they are ones that she can master easily.

 

The original pattern had a seed stitch border but I needed a break from seed stitch, so I elected not to do that. I liked the stockinette band from the first towels I knit, so that's what I did here. I'm about halfway done and hope to finish this up soonish. 

 

 

I've also got a deep purple towel started in the Nested Squares pattern, and I might need to knit a couple dish towels for Jess for Christmas. I also wouldn't mind a couple towels for myself, and the weather is cooling down so I should also get back to Justin's hat. Then there is the Saltwater Bandana from Purl Soho that I've been waiting to cast on. Plenty of projects for the foreseeable future!

What are you making this Wednesday in September? 

Ravelry links:

Nested Squares Kitchen Towel 

Cilantro Tea Towel 

Bits and Pieces: September 2026

 

Hello! I had originally planned to be away last week, visiting John's oldest sister and her husband in northern PA, but then we unfortunately had two deaths in the family, so the travel plans got cancelled. I was busy so I took a little blog break, but I'm back now. A Bits and Pieces post seems like a good way to get back to blogging. 

• The photos in this post don't have anything to do with the written bits. They are just pictures from a file I keep called "Errant Photos". Some of them are from mistakes I've made while trying to take pictures, but I have no idea what the others are. I do think they're too interesting to delete, so I'm glad to have a chance to use them. 

• John and I have friends that we meet for dinner once every month or so. The wife of the couple (let's call her Jean since that's her name) has recently started knitting with her church group. They give bibs and a baby blanket to every child that gets baptized and Jean says they are running pretty far behind. She recently got promoted from bibs to knitting blankets and was pleased with that, but she said she had made a mistake and could I please, please, please see if I could fix it? I took a look and she had just slipped two stitches instead of knitting them. It was about a 30 second fix to tink back and knit the stitches so she could get back to knitting, but Jean was absolutely thrilled. I told her to call me any time, she thanked me profusely, gave me a jar of her homemade salsa, and has continued to text her thanks. I tried to show her what I did so she could maybe do it in the future but she's not quite ready for that. I felt a bit like a superstar even though I know I didn't do anything, but I am glad Jean was so happy and could get back to her knitting. 

• I'm officially looking for a new-to-me car. I'm currently driving a 2012 Subaru Forester with a minimum of bells and whistles, which is what I prefer. It even has a real key instead of a push button to start it, and it works well for the minimal driving I do (which is basically to the grocery store, and Ryan's and Justin's houses). But we've needed to invest $2900 in it in the last two weeks to repair a power steering line leak and the lower control arms. (I don't really know what they are or what they do, but I'd hate to be out of control.) I've looked around a bit online and my in-person visit to the local Subaru dealer was enough to make me want to keep my car. A used Subaru that is a couple of years old with reasonable mileage seems really expensive, especially when I can get a new one for just slightly more. I'm going to shop around (which means that I'll probably ignore it until something else breaks on my car.)

• Justin's and Jess' wedding is getting closer. Justin finally picked out what he and the groomsmen will be wearing and he arranged everything through Friar Tux. (I do love that name!) Once he created "The Look", all he and the groomsmen had to do was input their measurements and Friar Tux will send them their outfits. He used it for a couple of weddings that he was in and it was so much easier than going to a tux rental place. 

• They got a "self-uniting" marriage license. They are getting married at a venue in the woods in Canadensis, PA. They've asked John's older sister, Phyllis, to perform the ceremony. She got "ordained" on the internet; I don't remember what organization it's with, but she's married several couples and I know she'll say some lovely things this time. PA doesn't recognize her internet church, but they do offer something called a "self-uniting" marriage license. That means that the couple themselves solemnize the marriage, and all they need to do is have two adult witnesses sign the license and return the paperwork for it to be official and legal. It was originally meant for Quakers, although you don't have to be Quaker to go this route. I think it's kind of cool; I just need to stop calling it self-sealing.

• I'm still plugging away on dish towels but I'll be back Wednesday to show you some progress. I hope you are having an enjoyable Labor Day if you're in the US, or a lovely Monday if you're elsewhere! 

 

 

Read With Us Lounge: 8/31/26

 

As our summer together in the Read With Us Lounge comes to an end, I want to say a big thank-you to everyone who joined in, whether you participated in every discussion, dropped by occasionally, or simply kept the Lounge in the back of your mind as you made your way through your summer reading.

When we started, the goal was pretty simple: No Rules. Just Fun. We hoped to make reading feel a little less like a checklist and a little more like an adventure. I wanted us to challenge some of our usual reading habits, try books we might not otherwise pick up, and most of all, have fun talking about books with other readers.

So, before we close the Lounge for the summer, I'd love to hear what you thought!

Did you enjoy the Read With Us Lounge?

A few questions to get the conversation started:

• What did you enjoy most about the Lounge?

• Did you discover a book, author, or type of book you wouldn't have tried otherwise?

• Did any of our prompts change the way you thought about your reading?

• Was there a particular discussion or post that stayed with you?

• Did you enjoy having the freedom to read whatever you wanted, rather than following a traditional book-club reading list (and no Book Bingo cards)?

• Was there anything you would change if/when we do this again?

• Would you participate in another Read With Us Lounge?

• And, maybe most importantly, did the Lounge help make your summer reading more enjoyable?

I’ve loved seeing what everyone has been reading and hearing your thoughts along the way. One of my favorite things about this group has been discovering how differently we can respond to the same book, and how much we can learn from someone whose reading tastes or life experiences are completely different from our own.

Thank you for making the Lounge such a welcoming place for readers. I hope you've maybe found a few new favorites, reconsidered a few old reading rules, and added some books to your ever-growing TBR pile.

Now it's your turn: tell me what you thought! And if you have ideas for what a future Read With Us Lounge might look like, I'd love to hear those, too.

Happy reading, and thank you for spending part of your summer with us!

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One last chance! As a small token of our appreciation, we'd love to send you a thank-you gift for participating in the Read With Us Lounge. If you're comfortable sharing your mailing address, please send it to me via email (highlyreasonableATgmailDOTcom) and we'll get your parting gift on its way in a bit. Thanks again; we really appreciate your commitment to our "No Rules. Just Fun!" philosophy.  

 

Books on Thursday

I've read a few interesting books and would like to tell you about them today.

 

I’ve been trying to expand my reading this summer, and part of that has meant seeking out memoirs by people whose lives are very different from mine. Sober Mom fits that description. Liz Jannuzzi’s account of her alcoholism, its devastating effects on her marriage and family, and her eventual recovery through AA is a candid and often remarkable story.

What struck me most was the amount of energy and planning that went into maintaining the illusion that everything was fine. Jannuzzi was raising three young children while drinking vodka for much of the day, all while hiding bottles, concealing how much she drank, hiding the money she spent on alcohol, and trying to keep her husband from discovering the extent of the problem. Her description of reaching the point where she could no longer keep the pieces of her life separated is painful but compelling.

I also appreciated that Jannuzzi doesn’t present recovery as a neat, inspirational transformation. There are cravings, uncomfortable amends, grief, marital difficulties, and plenty of awkward moments. Her willingness to describe the less glamorous parts of AA and sobriety makes the story feel honest rather than overly polished. There is also a welcome vein of humor amid some very difficult material.

One caveat for those of us who enjoy a drink: Jannuzzi occasionally describes vodka and cranberry juice with such lush, sensory detail that I found myself thinking, "Well, that sounds pretty good!" It's an acknowledgement of her writing ability, and an interesting reminder of just how seductive alcohol can be, even when you’re reading about the destruction it caused.

This isn’t a memoir I would describe as an easy or comfortable read, but it is a compelling one. Jannuzzi tells her story with considerable honesty and gives a vivid picture of what alcoholism can look like when it is hidden behind the façade of an ordinary suburban family life. Most importantly, Sober Mom offers a convincing portrait of recovery as something built one day at a time, with help from other people and a willingness to confront the damage left behind. This was four stars for me.  

 

Any Bitter Thing is a quietly moving novel about memory, forgiveness, family, and the ways that the truth can become complicated when viewed through the imperfect lens of time.

After a near-fatal accident leaves Lizzy Mitchell struggling to recover, she becomes preoccupied with the vision she had while unconscious: her beloved Uncle Mike, the Catholic priest who raised her until she was nine. Twenty years earlier, accusations of impropriety had destroyed Mike’s career and separated him from Lizzy, sending her away to boarding school. Now, as Lizzy tries to piece together what happened to her in the accident, she also finds herself compelled to revisit the events that changed both their lives.

I particularly liked the way Monica Wood explores the uncertainty surrounding memory. Lizzy isn't simply trying to uncover an objective version of the past; she has to confront how children understand adult behavior, how families protect themselves, and how easily suspicion can become accepted as fact. The question of what really happened to Father Mike provides the mystery at the heart of the novel, but the emotional consequences are ultimately more important than solving it.

Lizzy's recovery, her troubled marriage, and her complicated feelings about Mike give the story plenty of emotional depth. At times the novel felt a little overly sentimental to me, and some of the spiritual elements didn't completely work for me. Still, Wood writes with considerable compassion, and I appreciated that she allows her characters to be flawed without making them easy to judge. 

This is ultimately a story about the damage caused by secrets and accusations, but also about the possibility of reconciliation and hope. Any Bitter Thing isn't a fast-paced mystery so much as an intimate exploration of how we remember the people we love, and how understanding the past can sometimes help us find a way forward. Thanks for the four-star recommendation, Becky! 

 

I thought that Homeschooled sounded like it might be interesting, but I found myself wishing the author had chosen a different title and framed the book quite differently. This is not a book about homeschooling so much as a memoir about an unhealthy mother-son relationship marked by codependency, isolation, emotional manipulation, mental health issues, and familial dysfunction.

Stefan’s mother removes him from school because she believes his teachers are stifling his creativity, but what follows is far removed from what most people would consider education. His world becomes increasingly restricted, while his mother involves him in increasingly bizarre projects and attempts to control his behavior and development. The emotional manipulation and isolation are particularly disturbing because they are presented under the guise of homeschooling.

One episode that stayed with me was his mother’s insistence that he crawl around the house like a baby, supposedly as a way to improve his penmanship. I kept wondering what his father thought about having a middle-school-aged son crawling around the house because his mother believed this was somehow beneficial. The author repeatedly mentions that his father was very busy, but I found myself wishing there had been more exploration of his role in what was happening. I would also like to have read some of the older brother's thoughts.

There is no question that this is a sad and, ultimately, empowering story. Stefan’s return to public school after five years of isolation and his gradual discovery of a life outside his mother’s control are compelling. His journey toward independence is the strongest part of the book, but it still felt like Block excused or even romanticized much of his mother's highly aberrant behavior.

For me, the homeschooling aspect felt almost incidental to the larger story. The real subject is a mother whose controlling behavior and increasingly eccentric worldview profoundly affected her son. I think I would have connected with the book more if it had been presented as a memoir about mental health, family dysfunction, and a young person struggling to establish his own identity rather than as a book purportedly about homeschooling.

There are some powerful and heartbreaking moments here, but ultimately I found the framing of the story frustrating, and I still have many unanswered questions about what this family went through. 1.5 stars rounded up.

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

Unraveled Wednesday: 8/26/26

I’m happy to join Kat and the Unravelers today, but I'm also unhappy that I don't yet have a finished towel to show you. 

The last time I was at Ryan's, I measured one of his ratty dishtowels that I hope to replace with these handknitted ones. I didn't have a tape measure so I quickly made a "measuring string" for length from one of the skeins in my knitting bag while Ryan was otherwise occupied. You can see I'm approximately two repeats short of completing the length, but I think I'll do an extra one because I fully expect it to shrink when I wash and dry the towel.

 

 

Hopefully, I'll have this one completed and be well into finishing the purple one by the next time I join Unraveled Wednesday. We're leaving next Monday to visit John's older sister and her husband for much of the week. With an eight-hour round-trip drive, I'm envisioning finishing both towels and maybe starting another one in Dishie yarn using this pattern. We'll see; my knitting visions don't always turn into reality. 

 

What are you making this last Wednesday in August? 

Ravelry links:

Nested Squares Kitchen Towel 

 

Read With Us Lounge: 8/24/26

Hello and welcome to my penultimate Read With Us Lounge post. One of the things I’ve been trying to do as part of the Read With Us Lounge this summer is expand my reading. Not read more books, but read differently, especially books by people whose lives and experiences are very different from my own.

That raises an interesting question: Do books have to be “relatable” for us to enjoy or appreciate them? We hear that word all the time when people talk about books. I really related to this character. It was so relatable! Sometimes that connection is exactly what makes a book meaningful. It can be comforting to recognize ourselves in another person’s experiences, thoughts, fears, or mistakes. But I wonder if we sometimes ask too much of books when we expect them to reflect our own lives.

One of the books that first made me think about this was Wild Game by Adrienne Brodeur, which the Read With Us group read back in 2020. Brodeur’s memoir describes a complicated relationship with her mother and the enormous secret she was drawn into as a teenager. Her family dynamics, choices, and experiences were very far removed from my own life. And yet I found the book fascinating. I wasn't fascinated because I recognized myself in Brodeur. I was captivated because she gave me a window into a life I had never experienced, and into the complicated ways people can love one another, hurt one another, and become entangled in one another’s choices.

This summer, I’ve read several other memoirs that have taken me well outside my own experience. Sober Mom by Elizabeth Jannuzzi introduced me to the experience of a suburban mother struggling with alcohol addiction. Homeschooled by Stefan Merrill Block gave me a glimpse into a childhood and family structure very different from anything I knew. And Little Princesses by Marion Crawford offered a fascinating look at life inside the British royal family through the woman who served as governess to Princesses Elizabeth and Margaret.

I am not a homeschooled royal alcoholic. The only thing I really have in common with these authors is that I am a fellow human being. And maybe that is enough.

Reading about people whose lives are completely different from ours can be a reminder that we don't need to have the same experiences in order to recognize something of ourselves in another person. We can recognize fear without having experienced the same thing that frightened someone else. We can understand loneliness without having lived the same kind of loneliness. We can recognize love, shame, jealousy, grief, ambition, regret, or hope even when the circumstances surrounding those emotions are completely unfamiliar. That may be one of the great gifts of reading.

A book doesn't always have to say, “This is just like my life.” Sometimes it can say, “This is nothing like my life, but now I understand a little more about someone else's.” And that seems especially valuable right now. It is very easy to make assumptions about people whose lives look different from ours. We can reduce someone to a label, an experience, a mistake, or a set of circumstances we don't understand. But spending several hours inside someone else's story can make that person more complicated, more human, and harder to dismiss.

Does reading automatically make us more empathetic? Probably not. But I think it can give empathy somewhere to begin. I will never understand exactly what it is like to be an alcoholic (hopefully), to be homeschooled, or to grow up in the royal household. But after reading these books, I have a little more understanding of people who have lived those lives. And perhaps the next time I encounter someone whose experiences are completely different from mine, I'll be a little less quick to judge.

What about you? Tell me about a book that expanded your empathy precisely because it felt unfamiliar. What did you learn from entering a life that was very different from your own? Did reading about that experience change the way you thought about the people who live it? And, just as importantly: Do you think a book needs to be “relatable” for you to love it?

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Thank you for your participation in the RWU Lounge. We we weren't exactly sure if our "anti-book bingo" idea would work but you have helped to make it a rousing success with your thoughtful comments and discussion, no matter what the topic was. As a small token of our appreciation, we'd love to send you a thank-you gift. If you're comfortable sharing your mailing address, please send it to me via email (highlyreasonableATgmailDOTcom) and we'll get your parting gift on its way in a bit. Thanks again; we really appreciate your commitment to our "No Rules. Just Fun!" philosophy. 

Books on Thursday

I have three ARC reviews for you this week. I've been trying to blog about them closer to their publication dates so you can place a hold at your library if you are interested. That seems far better than telling you about them three to six months before they are even published!

I went into Sophie, Standing There by Meg Mason expecting something sharp, funny, and emotionally insightful, and to be fair, it does deliver on some of that. Sophie is an immediately sympathetic character: gentle, withdrawn, and quietly struggling in ways that feel recognizable and real. Mason has a gift for capturing the interior life of loneliness, and there are moments of genuine wit and poignancy scattered throughout.

One of my favorite aspects of the novel was its deep immersion in the literary world. I loved all the references to books, publishing, and especially to authors themselves. They loom large in Sophie’s life, not just as creators but as emotional anchors. The portrayal of a reader’s relationship to a beloved writer felt incredibly authentic, capturing that peculiar blend of admiration, intimacy, and dependence that can form across the page. Those elements added a richness and specificity that really elevated the reading experience for me.

That said, I found myself increasingly frustrated with the pacing. I enjoyed the story, but it felt like it took forever to get anywhere. Much of the novel lingers in Sophie’s inner world without enough forward momentum, and while that may be intentional, mirroring her stagnation, it sometimes makes the reading experience feel stuck rather than immersive. I kept waiting for a shift, a spark, or a deeper development that would push things forward in a meaningful way.

The premise, especially Sophie’s attachment to the author who becomes a kind of emotional lifeline, is compelling and full of potential. When the book focuses on that idea, it’s at its strongest, exploring the strange intimacy between reader and writer in a thoughtful, almost tender way. But those moments are somewhat buried beneath repetition and a narrative that circles more than it progresses.

Overall, this is a thoughtful and occasionally moving novel with a strong central character, and a love letter of sorts to the literary world, but one that might have benefited from a tighter structure and a bit more narrative drive. I’m glad I read it, but I can’t help feeling it didn’t quite live up to what it could have been. (But Meg Mason is the author and I am clearly not!) Three stars.

Thank you to Edelweiss and Harper for providing me with a copy of this book. It will be published on September 8, 2026.

I was immediately captivated when a friend mentioned that she was reading Swimming With Turtles and I ended up enjoying this memoir even more than I expected. Susan Baur has a gift for translating the quiet act of snorkeling in Cape Cod ponds into something genuinely adventurous. Her descriptions of the underwater world are so vivid that it often feels as though you're swimming alongside her, peering beneath lily pads and scanning the shadows for painted, musk, and snapping turtles. She captures both the beauty and the thrill of discovery in a way that made me appreciate an ecosystem I'd never given much thought to.

The memoir is also about grief, aging, patience, and learning to pay closer attention to the natural world. Baur's love story and the loss that follows add emotional depth without overwhelming the central joy of her observations. I especially appreciated how her fascination with turtles evolved into environmental stewardship, reminding us that wonder often leads to caring.

I have to admit that I'm still slightly terrified of muddy pond bottoms and snapping turtles, too, but this book somehow made me want to grab a snorkel and see what I've been missing beneath the surface. That's a testament to Baur's enthusiasm and powers of observation. 

If I have one small criticism, it's that the reflective passages occasionally linger a bit longer than I wanted, slightly slowing the momentum. Even so, Swimming with Turtles is a thoughtful, immersive memoir that celebrates curiosity, resilience, and the rewards of slowing down long enough to truly see the world around us. A wonderful read for nature lovers and anyone who enjoys memoirs that quietly inspire. Four and a half stars rounded up.   

Thank you to NetGalley and University of Massachusetts Press for providing me with a copy of this book. It will be published on September 8, 2026.

 

Switzy is one of those novels that is less concerned with plot than with immersing the reader in a state of mind. Emma Cline's stream-of-consciousness style places us inside David's increasingly fractured thoughts as he travels across Europe, knowing that he has chosen to end his life before dementia erases what remains of his sense of self.

What impressed me most was Cline's ability to make David's experience feel immediate rather than merely observed. Instead of describing dementia from the perspective of family members or caregivers, she invites us into David's shifting consciousness. Memories surface without warning, conversations lose their shape, familiar places become strange, and time itself refuses to behave. It's disorienting, but intentionally so, creating a reading experience that gives what I imagine to be a shockingly realistic sense of dementia.

Despite the heavy subject matter, there are flashes of dry humor and moments of surprising tenderness. As David reflects on childhood, family, career, regrets, and small moments that linger long after larger accomplishments have faded, the novel quietly asks what remains of a person when memory begins to disappear. This question stayed with me even after I finished the book and I will be thinking about this one for a while.

This wasn't an easy or particularly fast read for me. The stream-of-consciousness narrative can be repetitive, occasionally confusing, and difficult to follow. I often found myself going back several pages to try and make sense of what was happening. But the style ultimately serves the story very well, drawing the reader into the confusion, fear, and fleeting moments of clarity that define David's final journey.

Switzy is an enveloping, compassionate novel that offers what a deeply imagined glimpse of dementia might feel like from the inside. It's haunting, thought-provoking, and unlike anything else I've read on the subject.

Thank you to NetGalley and Random House for providing me with a copy of this book. It will be published on September 8, 2026.There is a Goodreads giveaway for this four-star book if you are interested. 

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

 

Unraveled Wednesday: 8/19/26

I’m happy to join Kat and the Unravelers today. I'm still working on the same dish towels, adding more rows slowly but surely. 

After knitting 10 rows on these, I’m finally getting the hang of keeping my knits and purls straight, most of the time, anyway. I still have quite a way to go, so there’s plenty of time to become a real seed-stitch expert (and also plenty of time to make more mistakes).

 

I think these will be for Ryan. I'm guessing that it will take me at least a couple of weeks to finish them, and then I'll need to get back to stitching the badger on Justin's hat. I'm glad I started these Christmas gifts early (and I still need to think of something to make for Jess). 

What are you making as August winds down? 

Ravelry links:

Nested Squares Kitchen Towel 

 

Read With Us Lounge: 8/17/26

  

For the Read With Us Lounge, we spend a lot of time talking about books we love. But every now and then, an interesting question comes up: What actually makes a book good?

It sounds like a simple question, but the more you think about it, the harder it becomes to answer. Is a good book beautifully written? Does it need to move us emotionally? Should it surprise us with something we've never encountered before? Is a book better if we want to read it again or if it challenges us the first time through? Maybe the most interesting answer is that a “good” book doesn't have to succeed in just one way

Beauty of Language

Some books stay with us because of the sentences themselves. We pause over a phrase, reread a paragraph, or find ourselves thinking about a particular image days later.

Beautiful language can make an ordinary moment feel extraordinary. It can create atmosphere, reveal character, or make us notice something about the world that we hadn't noticed before. Sometimes, we love a book simply because we love being inside its prose.

But does beautiful writing automatically make a book good? Probably not. A gorgeous sentence can't necessarily rescue a story that leaves us cold.

Emotional Impact

Then there are the books that make us feel.

We may laugh, cry, become angry, feel unsettled, or recognize ourselves in a character. Sometimes a book changes our understanding of an experience we have never personally had.

Emotional impact can be powerful, but it is also deeply personal. One reader may be devastated by a novel while another barely reacts. Does that mean one reader is “right” or is the emotional experience itself part of what makes reading so subjective?

Originality

We often praise books for being original. We want ideas, characters, structures, or perspectives that feel fresh.

But originality is complicated. Very few stories are completely new. Writers are always borrowing, adapting, responding to, and reinventing what came before. Sometimes the most impressive books aren't the ones with entirely new ideas, but the ones that take familiar ideas and make us see them differently.

Perhaps originality isn't about inventing something from nothing. Perhaps it's about making something familiar feel new.

Rereadability

Here's another test: Would you read it again?

Some books are thrilling on a first read but don't necessarily call us back. Others seem to become richer each time we return to them. On a second or third reading, we notice foreshadowing, hidden details, patterns in the language, or meanings we couldn't have seen before.

But rereadability isn't the only measure of quality. Some books are difficult, painful, or exhausting, and we may be grateful we read them once without ever wanting to read them again. A book doesn't necessarily have to be comforting or enjoyable to be worthwhile.

Difficulty

Which brings us to another tricky question: Does a good book have to be difficult?

There's a temptation to equate difficulty with seriousness or intelligence. We sometimes assume that if a book takes effort to understand, it must be more valuable than one we read quickly and easily.

But reading pleasure matters, too. A book can be deceptively simple and still be profound. A straightforward story can contain enormous emotional or philosophical depth. Maybe difficulty is best understood not as a measure of quality, but as one possible kind of reading experience.

So What Makes a Book Good?

Maybe the answer depends on what we ask a book to do.

A good book might give us language we want to savor. It might make us feel something deeply. It might challenge our assumptions, introduce us to an unfamiliar perspective, or make an old idea feel new. It might reward rereading, or simply give us an unforgettable experience the first time.

And perhaps the most important thing is that “good” doesn't have to mean “universally enjoyable.”

A book can be beautifully written and not be for us. A novel can have brilliant ideas but fail to move us. A book we adore might be one that another reader finds tedious. Those differences aren't necessarily a problem. They're part of what makes a reading community interesting.

So this summer, instead of asking only Did you like it?, we can try asking a few different questions:

What did this book do well?

What did it make you feel or think about?

What, if anything, will stay with you?

Would you read it again? Why or why not?

And perhaps the best question of all:

What makes you call a book “good”?

I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments. Bring your favorite book, your most controversial opinion, or the book you can't stop thinking about, and let's compare our definitions of “good.”

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Thank you for your participation in the RWU Lounge. We we weren't exactly sure if our "anti-book bingo" idea would work but you have helped to make it a rousing success with your thoughtful comments and discussion, no matter what the topic was. As a small token of our appreciation, we'd love to send you a thank-you gift. If you're comfortable sharing your mailing address, please send it to me via email (highlyreasonableATgmailDOTcom) and we'll get your parting gift on its way in a bit. Thanks again; we really appreciate your commitment to our "No Rules. Just Fun!" philosophy.

Books on Thursday

I read several books this week. It was a good week for reading, given our 90 degrees plus weather combined with oppressive humidity. 

I really liked the premise of The Treasure House. A single mother and her young daughter buying a neglected house overflowing with decades of accumulated belongings has all the ingredients for a cozy, emotionally satisfying story. Watching someone slowly reclaim both a home and a life can make for a compelling read.

For me, though, the execution made it clear that I'm probably not the target audience. This is a perfectly pleasant romance, but many of the obstacles are resolved so easily that the story never felt especially grounded. Zoe sees the house, makes one phone call to the owner, another to the bank, and suddenly she's a homeowner. The many challenges of rehabilitating a rundown house are similarly smoothed over with the help of an endlessly supportive circle of friends and neighbors. Even major jobs, like putting up storm windows during a coastal storm, seem to come together with surprising ease.

The romance was equally predictable. As soon as the somewhat taciturn owner of Jake's Hardware and Lobster Shack appeared, it was obvious where that storyline was headed. Predictability isn't necessarily a flaw. Sometimes it's exactly what you're looking for in a comfort read, but there weren't many surprises along the way.

I did enjoy the small mystery surrounding the previous owner, Marly, and the parallels between her life and Zoe's added some emotional depth. Florence was also a charming presence, bringing warmth and optimism to the story.

Overall, The Treasure House is an easy, feel-good novel that offers a comforting escape. While I wanted a little more realism and complexity in both the home renovation and the relationships, readers looking for a cozy romance with a hopeful message and a satisfying happy ending will likely find plenty to enjoy and a welcome respite from the news. Three stars.

Thank you to NetGalley and Dell for providing me with a copy of the book. It will be published on September 1, 2026. There is a Goodreads giveaway for this book if you are interested. 

 

This book was just not meant for me in so many ways.

I went into Heather hoping that its setting in the New Jersey Pine Barrens would make this mystery especially appealing. Unfortunately, the setting wasn’t enough to overcome the many elements that I tend to struggle with as a reader. There are multiple storylines, a nonlinear timeline, a mixture of second- and third-person narration, a protagonist who often seemed frustratingly incompetent, and a web of relationships so confusing that I found myself trying to construct a family tree just to keep everyone straight.

More troubling for me was the repeated failure of the adults in this community to protect the young women at the center of the story. Police officers, parents, teachers, and other authority figures repeatedly miss or fail to act on things that seem like they should have raised serious red flags. I kept wondering how so many adults could fail these girls so thoroughly and so repeatedly.

I can appreciate what Caitlin Mullen was attempting to explore: how difficult it can be to know the truth about another person's life, how memory and perspective shape our understanding of the past, and how a community can carry the consequences of long-buried secrets. There are some genuinely disturbing and heartbreaking ideas here.

But as a reading experience, I found Heather confusing rather than compelling. The structural choices that may work beautifully for other readers mostly kept me at a distance from the characters and the mystery. I wanted to enjoy this one, mainly because of the Pine Barrens setting, but unfortunately the setting couldn't make up for the rest of the book for me. Two and a half stars.

I picked up Tough Cases after hearing one of the editors, Gregory Mize, interviewed on NPR, and the book turned out to be even more compelling than I expected.

Most of us encounter famous court cases only through headlines or the final ruling. Tough Cases shifts the focus from the courtroom drama to the judge's chambers, where the real burden of decision-making takes place. Each chapter is written by the judge who presided over a particularly difficult case, explaining not only the legal reasoning but also the human weight of making decisions that can alter lives forever.

I was familiar with several of the high-profile cases, including those involving Elián González, Terri Schiavo, and Scooter Libby, but I had never really considered the painstaking thought process behind the rulings. The essays do an excellent job of explaining how judges balance precedent, statutory law, constitutional principles, and compassion while recognizing that there may be no outcome that satisfies everyone. The writing is remarkably accessible, making complex legal issues understandable without talking down to readers who don't have a legal background.

One of the book's greatest strengths is that it humanizes judges without turning them into heroes or villains. They come across as thoughtful people wrestling with imperfect facts, competing legal obligations, and the knowledge that every decision will profoundly affect someone's life.

Reading this made me realize how much I enjoy this kind of behind-the-scenes legal history. I would eagerly read a similar collection explaining the judicial reasoning behind landmark Supreme Court decisions such as Citizens United v. Federal Election Commission or Dobbs v. Jackson Women's Health Organization. Regardless of where readers stand on those cases, understanding how judges work through difficult constitutional questions in plain language would make for fascinating reading.

If you enjoy legal nonfiction, true courtroom stories, or simply want a better understanding of what judges actually do beyond issuing rulings, Tough Cases is an engaging and enlightening collection. It reminded me that the law is rarely as simple as it appears from the outside, and that some of the hardest work in our justice system happens long before a verdict is announced. Four stars. 

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

 

Unraveled Wednesday: 8/12/26

I’m happy to join Kat and the Unravelers today with a good start on the newest dish towel.

There is nothing difficult about this pattern, but it just might be the one that staves off dementia for me for another year or two. It's a bunch of seed stitch and I have to really pay attention when I'm working on the purl side so I keep the knits and purls straight.

 

But just to keep things interesting, I started the same pattern in dark purple Cotlin.

 

 

I haven't even gotten to the first row of nested squares yet, but I've been in a purple mood ever since the yarn arrived and hopefully I'll be able to keep my knits and purls straight. 

 

What are you making this Wednesday in August? 

 

Ravelry links:

 

Nested Squares Kitchen Towel