Unraveled Wednesday: 4/22/26

I don't think there is an official Unraveled Wednesday linkup while Kat is taking a break, but Wednesdays are my favorite blogging day, especially if I haven't had to do any any actual unraveling. I'm enjoying our cooler and more seasonable weather and have been knitting almost monogamously on Justin's hat.

I'd love to finish the hat soon(ish) and get started on duplicate stitching the animals while I'm feeling motivated. I only have a couple more rows until I start the decreases so the end isn't too far away.

I finished one book this week, and it was a good one. Thanks for the recommendation, Vera! Sex of the Midwest completely won me over in a way I didn’t quite expect. Going in, I was intrigued by the premise, a mysterious town-wide sex survey arriving in inboxes, but what unfolds is something much richer and more nuanced than that hook suggests. This is very much a novel-in-stories, following a wide cast of residents in Lanier, Indiana, each chapter offering a glimpse into a different life, a different struggle, a different quiet longing. The connections between characters are subtle but satisfying, creating a layered portrait of a community that feels hopefully authentic and deeply human.

It’s been compared to Olive Kitteridge by Elizabeth Strout, one of my all-time favorite books, and I’ll admit I was a little skeptical. That’s a high bar for me, but I was pleasantly surprised by how well this measured up. Like Strout’s work, Sex of the Midwest captures the small, often unspoken moments that define people’s lives, and it does so with empathy and insight rather than judgment.

One of the book’s greatest strengths is how attached I became to these characters. Nearly every story left me wishing for just a little more time with them. I was genuinely sad to see each chapter end, and by the final pages, I realized I’ll miss many of these people, like the man waiting for his lung transplant after having covid, the aspiring writer behind the bar, the quietly simmering bureaucrat, and so many others.

It’s also worth noting that the title is a bit of a misnomer. Despite the provocative setup, this book has surprisingly little to do with sex itself (aside from one particularly enthusiastic survey respondent). Instead, it’s about connection, isolation, identity, and the strange ways people try to understand themselves and each other, especially in a post-pandemic world.

Thoughtful, quietly funny, and deeply compassionate, Sex of the Midwest is a beautifully constructed mosaic of small-town life. If you enjoy interconnected stories and character-driven fiction, this is absolutely worth your time. Four and a half stars rounded up because I may read it again in a short while; it ended way too soon.

What are you making and reading on this penultimate April Wednesday?