READ ALL ABOUT IT
Since 2012, I’ve been writing about books. And the act of reading. And the importance of story and narrative. But, mostly, the underlying theme of all I write is how taking a moment to stop and digest some longform text — instead of scrolling, instead of watching a video, instead of multitasking — can be one of the most grounding things we can do for ourselves. Here’s the one-stop online home for all this writing.
You can read more about me and my work by moseying over here. Want to peruse periodic “essay drops” — excerpts from my work-in-progress essay collection about Homesickness? Here ya go.
The Alternatives
There’s a fine line between technology & tool — at least when it comes to casual parlance. I mean, yes, people will talk about personal technology as a “tool,” but I don’t think many of us think about, say, a hammer as “technology.” In grad school, I had to read Technics and Civilization by Lewis Mumford. I remember it being mind-expanding because although it was published in 1934, Technics and Civilization had a lot to say about “technology” — meaning everything from a clock (sundial, really) to electricity — and how humans use them…and for what outcome. For reference, this was in a Communications and Media Studies discipline so the lesson here is that all these tools were actually technologies that helped shaped our world. (In other words, “technology” doesn’t have to involve the internet.)
Wandering Stars
“I think most sequels are bad.” This is what a character in Tommy Orange’s new novel, Wandering Stars, says. This character — like other characters in the second half of this book — was originally introduced to readers in Orange’s much-lauded debut, There There. So that’s kind of interesting since Wandering Stars is a sequel of sorts. But Wandering Stars is also a prequel in that we get three generations of history — and “explanation,” if you will — of these characters in the first half of Orange’s second novel. On a surface level, this is Orange’s attempt at making sense of addiction and why some people might fall under its curse. But specifically, he’s tracing a trail from the Sand Creek Massacre of 1864 to the Carlisle Indian Industrial School to a family of “urban Indians” in Oakland. He is offering up detailed origin stories for Jacquie, Orvil, Opal, as well as Loother and Lony — all from There There.
Life’s a Journey
From Newsletter Issue No. 18:
In 1985, a movie called The Journey of Natty Gann debuted, and I thought it was the Greatest Thing Ever. I even wrote about it in the journal my teacher required us to keep. (That said, I think on this particular day all I wrote is “I watched a movie called The Journey of Natty Gann.”) It turns out that John Cusack was in it, but my fourth-grade self had no idea who he was or that he was on his way to being iconic Lloyd Dobler in Say Anything. I saw it with my mom in a theater in Seattle’s Southcenter mall, which was nowhere near our home, so the only thing I can think of is that we saw it en route to or from my grandparents’ house. Ergo, it truly felt like a proper “outing” — maybe we were doing some back-to-school shopping. I have a vague recollection of being in a fussy mood (not uncommon in that era, I’m sorry to say, especially when it came to clothing), but the film calmed me. Call it my journey from brat (Bratty Gann?!) to curious 9-year-old film connoisseur.
The Extinction of Irena Rey
Knives Out, but it’s a group of translators trying to figure out where their author — a famous Polish writer named Irena Rey (“Our Author” in their parlance) — has disappeared to after they convene in a forest village between Poland and Belarus to translate her newest novel, Grey Eminence. The Extinction of Irena Rey is written by Jennifer Croft, primarily (until now?) known for her translation work — she won the Booker in 2018 for her English translation of Flights by Olga Tokarczuk. I know of Croft because of her fab work of autofiction, Homesick, which she originally wrote in Spanish. The Extinction of Irena Rey is actually a novel in a novel; Croft has masterminded the story to be “written” by an Argentinian and then “translated” to English by an American. Got that?
The Bee Sting
SPECTACULAR. That’s all I have to say.
James / So Much Blue
After finishing my third and fourth Percival Everett novels — prior to James and So Much Blue, pictured, I had read The Trees and Erasure — I am convinced that this author of 34 books (!) should be considered one of America’s greatest novelists and also that his work should be taught in high schools. (Not everyone would like that last take, I am absolutely certain…) I’m repeatedly surprised at how successfully he can make a very readable book (so much more “readable” than I think people might suspect) completely erudite and subversive at the same time. Not to mention super funny.
I Cheerfully Refuse
I generally don’t like an apocalyptic novel, it’s true. Just see my post about last year’s Booker winner, Prophet Song by Paul Lynch…
Memory Piece
I checked out Memory Piece by Lisa Ko because I have an interest in collective memory and nostalgia — particularly about places. In fact, I am currently trying to refine one of my essays that uses those early-days “Remember when?” or “You know you’re from…” Facebook groups as a framework. The novel is fine — not my favorite, but of course that can’t be the standard for every book — but what I’m particularly intrigued by is Ko’s exploration of how technology mediates our memories and what changes more…a person or the place. In other words, when people like to bemoan “the way things were” especially in light of the structural development of a location, has the place truly changed demonstrably? Or as we age are we more apt to feel out of sync with our memories? (Just some light thoughts to start off your day…)
A Ghost in the Throat
I am obsessed with this book.
Tom Lake
I recently read a New Yorker piece titled “Becoming You: Are you the same person you were when you were a child?” In it, writer Joshua Rothman references a study of 1,037 individuals in New Zealand who are interviewed by a psychologist periodically from childhood to midlife in an attempt to understand humans’ connections with their “past selves.” (This kind of thing fascinates me.)
Erasure
Erasure — named to The Atlantic’s “Great American Novels” list — is a stellar book. Percival Everett was unknown to me until The Trees made the Booker shortlist in 2022. I read it and thought, “This is different. And lol funny. But serious too.” And then I saw American Fiction and realized it was based on Erasure and thought, “I should read that novel.”
We All Want Impossible Things
The late 90s was this golden era of women writers in their 20s/30s who projected a sort of “intellectual but quirky” image. Or maybe I just thought that because I myself was in my 20s in the late 90s. This was before blogging was really a thing; instead, they penned columns and essays for publications like SELF, Harper’s, Salon, Slate. Maybe you know the genre I mean: Meghan Daum, Katie Roiphe, Amanda Beesley. (That last one is perhaps super random but she wrote a column about getting engaged and married amidst her mother’s early Alzheimer’s diagnosis that turned into a book. Anyone?) Reading these women’s prose was like perusing emails from your wittiest & funniest & most insightful friend. (Because, yes, we all used to send and receive lengthy emails providing full life updates and musings.)
The Namesake
For some reason I thought that maybe I had already read The Namesake … until I started it (because I wasn’t 100% sure) and realized that nope, I had just seen the movie.
A Little Life
I’m about 10 years late to the party, but now I’ve joined the party, and here’s what’s on my mind…
O Caledonia
I read O Caledonia by Elspeth Barker, and, well I think the main thing I need to say about this is that teenage protagonist Janet is maybe, probably, definitely, for sure an Enneagram 4 (but notch it waaaay up to 11 — or more).
Stolen
“Good things come to those who wait” — always true?
Emergency
The short stories in Kathleen Alcott’s debut collection Emergency are like the sorts of people who seem to exude way too much cool and bravado but then you have a conversation with them and you’re like, “Ok, I guess you’re maybe a normal person with typical self-conscious neuroses too.” But then once in a while their sense of coolness peeks through the whole aw-shucks routine and you wonder if it’s all really a charade after all.
The End of Drum-Time
One day while writing I fell down this massive rabbit hole and came across something called discrete emotion theory, which posits that everyone — regardless of culture or geography — has the same set of basic emotions. There are exceptions and nuances, though…mostly having to do with language, which is how I circled into this whole thing in the first place.
The Queen of Dirt Island
So, the cover art for The Queen of Dirt Island is deceiving. Yes, we all know not to judge a book by its cover, but … what, huh? I’m a huge fan of Donal Ryan, and when I collected this copy from the library I wondered if he had abruptly taken a treacly, romantic, sentimental turn. In fact, his writing — subject matter, prose, narrative style — has not transformed for the “worse”; it’s actually so great (and contemporary, as much of the book takes place in the 90s as opposed to the 40s vibe that the cover boasts) that I couldn’t get Greta Gerwig’s Lady Bird out of my head.
Prophet Song
Have you ever had an intensely negative visceral reaction to a book?
I wouldn’t normally say publicly if I did, but Prophet Song by Paul Lynch (which just won the Booker) is my answer.
