Kaitlin Curtice. 2025.. This is a story about stories, a sort-of memoir that writes about writing. I really liked the premise of the book, which, in a nutshell, is to notice the stories we tell ourselves and others about our lives and to think about how those stories impact us and those around us. I loved the narrative that reminds us to break intergenerational cycles of storytelling that harm us and our children. The indigenous lens focused perspectives I don't often read. There was so much to appreciate here and to reflect on. The only problem was that the book did not draw me in. It took me a very long time to finish. It was like the opposite of a page-turner--I got stuck on parts, put it down, and forgot to come back to it. It's slow pace, reflective voice while soothing and thoughtful just could not keep me engaged. The fact that this made me feel like it was a personal failing of mine that I could not mount the kind of love for this book that many people I really respect did just made me feel insufficient, which is of course a reflection on me and not the book, but nevertheless leave me unable to recommend the book, despite how much I really wanted to be the kind of person who would recommend it. Not recommended. Amanda Peters. 2023. Another great read this year, this is a fictionalized story that brings home the Missing or Murdered Indigenous Women (MMIW) movement in a nuanced story about "family" and the complex meaning of that word, especially in the context of harms that are too deep to be forgiven. Set in Nova Scotia and Maine, it centers in part on cross-border indigenous migrant workers who picked summer berries for white farmers. It is really hard to talk about this book without spoiling the story because the core themes unfold slowly. By the time the themes reveal themselves, it wasn't a surprise they were coming, but it didn't end where it began. Suffice it to say that this is worth reading and has timely and timeless themes of family separation because of both casual and systemic racism that transcends generation and causes ripples of pain, as well as ripples of love. Recommend. Click here to purchase this book and support My 50 Bookish Friends blog project. Wally Lamb. 2025. For the first half of this book, I was entirely unimpressed with the book. I did not like the characters. I was horrified by the whole premise where the addict kills his kid when he drives drunk on morning. I hated how the author played with emotion, making me simultaneously hate the guy, but also eel so sorry for him and his situation. The relationship with his wife, his mother, his father, and his mother-in-law, all portrayed with raw pain and in the first act, this just felt like a poor attempt to manipulate the reader. But, about half-way through the book, everything shifted for me. I had no idea what was coming, so I didn't know what I was getting into. I think is is probably why I ended really liking this book a lot. I want to preserve that for you if you are going to read it, so spoiler alerts ahead here... SPOILER ALERT!!!!!! This is essentially a book about the need for prison reform. It is absolutely heartbreaking to experience the incarceration of an addict whose trauma is killing him. The brutality of prison, the lack of services, the sexual abuse, the psychological torture, all of it was raw and complicated. This unlikeable guy, who killed his kid, who lied to his wife, who is passive aggressive and narcissistic, and who lacks significant insight into his psyche doesn't deserve what happens to him in prison--no one would. There are moments of joy and connection, but those are outweighed by layers and layers of pain, bad luck that just compounds and is heartbreaking -- up to the end when COVID hits the prison. END SPOILER ALERT?? Sad from start to finish, this is worth reading for the thought-provoking analysis of the criminal responsibility in an era of retribution. Recommend. Click here to purchase this book and support My 50 Bookish Friends blog project. Louise Erdrich. 2021. Louise Erdrich does not disappoint in this sweet novel about a book lover with complex relationships, searching for family, while being haunted by her past and the past of others. It is complex, but I was easily drawn into the layers of stories. And what booklover does love a book that talks about books and drops the names of titles like they are celebrities? Set in a bookstore to a large extend, I particularly loved that this was perhaps the first novel to incorporate the pandemic into its storyline and it was done exquisitely, with such emotional detail. I just really loved this story. Highly recommend. Click here to purchase this book and support My 50 Bookish Friends blog project. Noviolet Bulawayo. 2022. An elaborate modernization of Animal Farm, this book creates a world of sentient, talking animals in a fictionized African country as it flows from being colonized to an oppressive regime to complete chaos after the dictator is driven out. I think it is technically supposed to be an allegory, but it just feel too obvious, with the parallels too similar to the current world. With situations and even language that clearly is lifted from real life current oppressive regimes, fascist leaders, and bigoted politicians from around the world, I thought it lacked nuance and was just force feeding us the analysis instead of letting the reader do any independent thinking or analogizing. This, plus it used a literary tool in which the same words or short phrase was repeated over and over again--so much so that it became an irritant. This may not have been so aggravating in a paper book where your eyes could skip over the 2 minutes of repetition, but in an audio book, it was just distracting and it was so many times. It felt gimmicky, even if it was obviously being done to make a point. The point was just too obvious. Not recommended. Click here to purchase this book and support My 50 Bookish Friends blog project. Robin Wall Kimmerer. 2024. This is a lovely short book that follows up on the author's wildly successful book, Braiding Sweetgrass. I have heard the criticism that despite the indigenousness of the author that the books are written for a white audience and this may be true, but as the white audience I have to say that I loved both of them. This one in particular talks about an ecology economy and the meaningfulness of a gift economy and of investing in community. Whether this is because you want the benefits that come from gifting, in terms of the emotional connections, the furthering of your values, or even indirect marketing of your business, an economy that incorporates gift giving and receiving should not be underestimated. There were a couple of themes that particularly resonated for me. First, wealth is not what you have, but what you give away and, second, if there isn't enough of what you want, then want something else. Aren’t those just lovely ideas that you want to file away and remember? Recommend. Click here to purchase this book and support My 50 Bookish Friends blog project. John Muir. 1901. This was the perfect book to fall asleep listening to. It wasn't so much that it was boring, as that the cadence of the narration is very soothing. The author employs a writing technique in which he makes long lists of things, often the latin names for plants or animals, that might interest the hardcore biologist and botanist enthusiasts, but I found lulled me to sleep, like a lullaby. In fact, I would listen to the same chapter several nights in a row, having not made it to the end of even one chapter before I drifted off to sleep. I would like to say that the book was light and pleasant, as he describes at length the natural spaces that he is so drawn to--and there is something compelling about how much he loves these spaces and wants to make sure they are preserved--and yet the racism of 1901 finds its way into a world it has no business being. This is in addition to the complete exclusion of women from the narrative in any meaningful way. All said, I just can't recommend it. Not recommended. Click here to purchase this book and support My 50 Bookish Friends blog project. Pablo Bacigalupi. 2015. Another post-apocalyptic novel, which really seems to be disproportionately recommended in recent times, this one was extremely graphic in depicting gratuitous violence. This was oddly juxtaposed against explicit descriptions of sexual encounters. I was disappointed that I did not like it more since the premise of the futuristic world felt well thought out and plausible, though incredibly depressing. Set in the dessert of the American southwest, the complicated backstory includes litigation over water rights, complicated interpersonal dynamics, lots of characters with compelling and believable backstories, and a nuanced world created with attention to details that I really liked. Ultimately, while there was a lot to like in the story, I really disliked the violence, which I did not think was needed to advance the story and which reflected a deterioration of human decency at a level that was just too dark for me. I found that I couldn't listen to this unless I was in the right frame of mind and definitely not before bed. Not recommended. Click here to purchase this book and support My 50 Bookish Friends blog project. Robert Moor. 2016. I als odid not This is a reflective memoir by a long distance, thru-hiker, which in places is sort of a micro-history of trails across contexts. This read like a book written by someone who has spent a lot of time walking by themselves reflecting on random things and then using those ideas as the springboard to explore tangentially related things which comes back to walking for long periods of time alone in order to think more about the topic they are obsessed with. I mean, some of it was interesting for sure, but there was just a lot of ruminating and reflecting on wildlife, snails, ants, and humans over time and space to come back to the same concept of trails. I found it pretty pedantic, going over the same points in different contexts ad nauseam. I did enjoy the chapter on Newfoundland, while really disliking the chapter on the deer hunt. I also did not love the reverence with which he talked about indigenous concepts. It felt oddly detached and maybe performative. Even after reflection, I can't really put my finger on why I didn't like how he wrote those parts. Overall, it was a very masculine reflection on a life of leisure time and isolation that just did not resonate with me. Not recommended. Click here to purchase this book and support My 50 Bookish Friends blog project. Deborah Tuerkheimer. 2021. This book about domestic and sexual violence, writing by an American attorney, provides a detailed narrative that compiles information, data, and theory from a variety of disciplines and expertly describes how we disbelieve and blame victims of intimate violence, both in and out of the court system. It does not read like a text book or legal brief, but rather provides case examples written in a succinct and captivating narrative. The content is not more explicit than it needs to be and just does an excellent job of bringing together a lot of information in a good read. Highly recommend Click here to purchase this book and support My 50 Bookish Friends blog project. |
AuthorI'll read anything a friend recommends & I love telling people what I think about it. Every year, I read 50 books recommended by 50 different friends. Welcome to My 50 Bookish Friends Blog. SearchCategories
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