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.
Kin
Shine all the spotlights on Tayari Jones for gracing us with another masterpiece.
Lost Lambs
Distance makes the heart grow fonder. Or allows us to forget. Somewhere in the middle is just “there” — out in the ether, summoning no strong opinions one way or another.
Trip
“I was more a trampoline park kind of mom.” So said my extremely awesome + adventurous friend this weekend when we were somewhere where it seemed like it would be utterly exhausting — albeit très hip — to have a kid with you. I loved her even more for that comment. You gotta bend when you have kids — it doesn’t mean you’ve forfeited your entire being.
Wreck
I finished Wreck by Catherine Newman and Season 3 ofShrinking in the same week and what that means is that I feel like pulling a Roberto Benigni and running up and down my street screaming “Life is Beautiful!” while simultaneously crying my eyes out.
A Parlor Read 2.0
Reader: “A person who reads.” (But also: wine [?] + my trusty glasses. I put those images below in stories yesterday after I realized we were coincidentally hosting our “parlor read” on International Book Day…)
Flaubert’s Parrot
A book is this inflexible thing. What’s on the pages, what’s in the pages — it is what it is? No matter who wrote it? Or where they wrote it? Or why?
Long Island Compromise
I had bought this book — a used copy of Long Island Compromise by Taffy Brodesser-Akner (of Fleishman is in Trouble fame) — to put in our Little Free Library. (It’s now there.)
10:04
10:04 is a hard book to take a picture of because the cover art is a somewhat indecipherable/inverted dark image of Lower Manhattan with part of the electric power grid out. Also, it’s sporting a plastic library dust jacket. (If you saw all the pics where you could see me in the book’s reflection…) But if you viewed this book IRL, it would look essentially the same as what you’re seeing here — it’s not as if this image is some massive distortion. It’s the same even if you’re looking at it through a different lens.
Departure(s)
When it comes to the snooze button (which, have you noticed, is ginormous on the most updated iPhone OS?), here is my philosophy, at least with my own snooze button activity: The point is not so much to get more sleep; the point is to have an awareness that I am getting more sleep. I think that fundamentally, humans want to actively know that they are receiving or experiencing a benefit. Is being granted a bit of extra sleep without being alerted to it the same as actively choosing to get that extra time? I don’t think so. (Stay tuned for my exhilarating dispatches on my philosophy of laundry.)
We Need Some Wendell Berry About Now
Lordy, I feel like we all need some Wendell Berry about now.
Unlikely Animals
I didn’t know that Annie Hartnett was a philosophy major, but I learned that after reading her bio today.
The Ten Year Affair
The Guardian recently published a piece about tropes. You know, the prescribed templates that are staples of romance, a genre I don’t read but I’m clued in enough to understand the gist.
Trust Exercise
When I interviewed my niece for my homesick project, I asked her what homesickness feels like. Among other things, I loved that she very specifically said, “I feel it in my sternum.” Because there’s a real physicality to emotion, right? See: pit in stomach, butterflies in chest, etc.
The Material
A+++ and 100% to this clever and skewering novel about a Stand-Up MFA program. (Haha)
Near Flesh
What does it mean to have something published posthumously? (I mean, I know what it means, but what does it MEAN. [Know what I mean?])
State of Wonder: A Posture for a New Year
When you scan the books scattered among the shelves for something
— you haven’t yet read
— isn’t anything like this collection of autofiction* that all at once became ready to pick up at the library and is now accumulating on your side of the bed
Mrs. Dalloway
The 2020s are so weird and there is absolutely no denying that. But when Matt and I watched Ken Burns’ documentary on prohibition a few years ago, all I kept thinking was that the 1920s seemed pretty weird too.
Bad, Bad Girl
I adored Bad, Bad Girl. And it’s not just because I adore Gish Jen. (I was gobsmacked when she agreed to participate in MetroWest Readers Fest. My fan tendencies were in overdrive and she was sooo lovely.)
The Correspondent
Last year, I posted about the novel Summerwater and how I felt like Sarah Moss employed the theme of “surprise.” (And also that I on occasion have kept a “surprise” journal.) Here’s what has turned into one of the most ~surprising~ novels of 2025. I was first introduced to The Correspondent by Virginia Evans from my friend because she had been given a copy soon after it was published by someone who is mentioned in the acknowledgements. (Hi, Margaret Ann, if you see this.)
The Road to Tender Hearts
Ok, The Road to Tender Hearts is a BOP. A book that’s a bop?
