Tuesday, February 4, 2025

A Couple of Bright Bookish Things in Otherwise Dark Times

In January 2017 when the Orange Thing began his first term of catastrophic assault on human decency, good governance, and basic common sense, I had the most productive reading month of my life -- 12 books in those 31 days. That certainly wasn't a coincidence. Nor is it this time, when I've been almost maniacally productive in January in terms of reading, writing here, and writing generally. Keeping yourself busy with things you love is absolutely crucial in times of gathering darkness. And, friends? Things are bleak. Anyway...sorry not sorry for the speech. Hugs to everyone. 

Here are two fun things I worked on in January, both of which were actually published this week.

I got to interview Nickolas Butler for the Chicago Review of Books --  I've loved Butler's work since I read his debut Shotgun Lovesongs in 2014. We've met in person a few times since (he did a reading at RoscoeBooks a couple years ago), and he's an absolutely delightful person. 

His new novel, A Forty-Year Kiss, is out today! It's a sweet, heartwarming story about second chances in life and love. PLEASE BUY IT -- the hardcover is a truly beautiful physical object, complete with variegated sprayed edges and colored inset pages. It feels like a collector's edition! 

We actually did the interview on Zoom (as opposed to over email) and it was so much fun getting to talk with him. I think I even annoyed him at one point, asking him if his new novel could've taken place anywhere but in the Midwest. 😂 I think he's tired of being asked that about his books. But he's such a kind human, he wouldn't overtly show annoyance. If you've liked his other novels, you'll love this one too. And if he's a new-to-you writer, I urge you to take a chance on him and give him a read. 



I'm on a new episode of the Chicago Writers Podcast -- I once again got to join host Dan Finnen and now-cohost and editor-in-chief of the Chicago Review of Books, Michael Welch, as well as CHIRB managing director Rachel Leon to talk about books. The angles this time were a short review of our favorite books of 2024, and then a longer discussion of our most anticipated 2025 books. (Spoiler: A Forty-Year Kiss was one of my picks. Everything is connected.) I also talked a little bit about Emily Henry, which I guess you'll have to listen to believe. 


Sunday, February 2, 2025

Death of the Author, by Nnedi Okorafor: Stories are Like Gods

The hardcover edition of Nnedi Okorafor's new exhilaratingly original novel, Death of the Author, includes a tagline at the top that says "The future of storytelling is here." I'd already been planning to read this book after reading a great review in the Chicago Review of Books, but the first time I saw that tagline, I thought, "hmm, okay, so some publishing marketing person has gotten a little out of their skis here. But fine." Turns out that line is a really funny and terrifically clever inside joke which you only get when you to the very end of this book. 

And read this book, you should! It's as inventive and fun as storytelling gets. It's really three stories in one. We have the main story about Zelu, at rock bottom of her writing career and fired from her adjunct professor job, who then pens a majestically successful sci-fi novel titled Rusted Robots. The second story is the text of Rusted Robots itself. And the third includes interviews with friends and family of Zelu giving important context to Zelu's life and career.

Regarding that last part, one of the themes of this novel is how we should rise above expectations or even limitations imposed upon us by family and friends who may think they have our best interest at heart, but maybe don't. Zelu's ever increasingly "crazy" ideas (though they don't seem to crazy to her), like volunteering for an MIT engineer's experiment to fit her crippled legs with exoskeletons so she can walk again, grate on her family who think she's just doing things, like writing bestselling novels, for attention. But this is her life! These are her decisions, and no one else's! 

All the while, we get segments of Rusted Robots, a story about a post-human apocalyptic class of robots called Humes who are in a war of survival with a cadre of sentient AIs called Ghosts. Except an unexpected thing happens: A Hume named Ankara falls in love or at least like or maybe just a symbiotic relationship with an AI name Ijele. Expectations subverted again!

Of course, telling a story with another story (soooo meta) isn't itself original. But how all three pieces of this novel converse with each really is so smart. Yes, it's a novel (that subverts expectations) about subverting expectations, but it's also about the origins of stories and the power of storytelling, which I'm always here for. A few quotes from the novel: 

"Stories contain our existence; they are like gods. And the fact that we create them from living, experiencing, listening, thinking, feeling, giving — they remind me what’s great about being alive."

And, cogent perhaps to today's moment: "What better time to listen to a story than when the world is about to end?" 

I'd been looking for an onramp to read Okorafor for a while. She's a hugely popular writer with rabid fans. This is it! I highly recommend this as something to jolt you out of a reading slump or just if you need something new and different. 

Friday, January 31, 2025

Familiaris, by David Wroblewski: On Fate and Purpose and Lots and Lots of Dogs

Can I interest you in a thousand-page novel about dog breeders set on a farm in northern Wisconsin that's a prequel to a novel published 16 years ago? Wait, don't go! Let me explain! I promise it's really good!

So, in 2008, a novel titled The Story of Edgard Sawtelle by an unknown writer named David Wroblewski took the book world by storm. It landed on Oprah's Book Club list (when that was still a big deal), was lauded by critics (here's WaPo's Ron Charles's glowing review), and was beloved by readers (me, included). The story, a retelling of Hamlet, is about a mute boy named Edgar Sawtelle whose family breeds a special kind of super smart and train-able dog on their bucolic northwoods farm. 

Last June, Wroblewski gifted us with a prequel, Familiaris, about the origins of that farm and how the Sawtelle dogs came to be. When I found out this book was coming, I asked a lot of readers if they were as excited I was. And I was met with mostly blank stares. What was happening? Maybe I was misremembering Edgar Sawtelle's impact? 

Anyway...every year, around Christmas I have a tradition of trying to tackle one of the "big, important novels" I missed during the year. Familiaris definitely fit that bill. Besides with all that's happening now (gestures at the whole world), a big, lush, sink-in-able novel seemed like just the thing. 

At its root, Familiaris is a love story. The novel begins in 1919 with John Sawtelle (Edgar's grandfather) meeting and falling in love with Mary Svoboda. Through a series of events, the two find themselves on a farm in northern Wisconsin with one of John's childhood friends named Elbow, a disabled and grouchy war veteran named Frank, and a few others.

Life ebbs and flows. They building their lives on this farm. There's a long backstory about their friend Walter who runs the general store in town, and his harrowing escape from the Peshtigo fire in 1871. John and Mary have two boys named Claude and Gar. And they begin their dog-breeding operation, creating a one-of-a-kind breed known simply as the Sawtelle dog. 

Oh, and the dogs! The dogs! This isn't just John and Mary's love story. It's the story of how pure and wonderful dogs are, and yes, how we probably don't deserve dogs. There are Violet and Forte and Gus and Needles and Ocky and Jug and so many more dogs. The dogs are as fully realized as characters in this novel as the humans, and it's one of the many reasons I LOVED this novel. 

Of course you can't summarize 1,000 pages (okay, it's really just 979) of plot in a few-hundred word review. But I'll tell you this: Familiaris is the type of novel you pick up and lose all trace of time. You sink in and it may be hours before you realize you need to blink or pee or eat something. Wroblewski is THAT good of a storyteller. 

If you've read A Prayer for Owen Meany, by John Irving, which is one of my favorite novels of all time, you'll understand that feeling. And the similarities between the two books don't stop at how immersive they both are. There are themes of fate and purpose in both books, of finding meaning and doing good. 

I know not everyone will be interested in this book, but I'm here to tell you, if it's been on your radar, and you've been tempted: Do it! It's such a rewarding, wonderful reading experience. This kind of book is why I love reading. I wish there were more books like it. 

Finally, here's a photo from 2010 when I wrote about some of my favorite books about dogs on the occasion of adopting this goofy little dog named Yoshi. Yoshman passed away in 2022, but we had 12 wonderful years with him. RIP, Yoshman.  





Tuesday, January 28, 2025

8 Really Great Recent Debut Novels You Should Read Now

I recently finished reading Eiren Caffall's debut novel All The Water In The World, a stunning, beautifully rendered climate novel that gives Station Eleven vibes. It's such an accomplished and profound debut (a few more thoughts here), and I'm always in awe of writers who are able to pull this off in a first book (a first published book, anyway). So I started thinking about other debut novels I've read and really loved recently. Here is a list of some of my favorites from the last several years.

 

Perris, California, by Rachel Stark -- At some point, I'll turn the page and stop talking about this fantastic, gritty 2024 debut. But today is not that day. I can't wait for the paperback to hit shelves March 25 so I can restart my campaign to get this book a wider readership! 

Nightcrawling, by Leila Mottley -- Brave. Simply no other way to describe this debut about a woman who is forced to turn to sex work to take care of her younger brother. Mottley was just 21 years old when this novel was published. Her follow-up novel -- The Girls Who Grew Big -- is due out June 24.

Groundskeeping, by Lee Cole -- This 2022 novel is an absolute wheelhouse book for me -- campus novel, love story, and examination of politics, class, and power. Lee Cole's follow up is also out this summer -- June 17. It's titled Fulfillment and it sounds in a similar vein to his debut -- "two half brothers navigating the complexities of class and privilege in the American South." Can't wait!

Craft: Stories I Wrote for the Devil, by Ananda Lima -- You may have heard me mention this book once or twice in this space as well. It's still mind-blowing to me how this novel-in-stories comes together so cohesively, both plot and thematically, in fewer than 200 pages. 

All This Could Be Different, by Sarah Thankam Mathews -- I picked this up initially because I'll read any book set in Milwaukee (there aren't many!). But it turned out to be a truly impressive and original coming-of-age tale. Loved it! 

Olga Dies Dreaming, by Xochitl Gonzalez -- I read this book about a high-society wedding planner (wait, what?!) in basically two sittings. This goes from a fizzy rom-com to a political tale of the travails of Puerto Ricans. If this sounds like it'd be difficult to pull off, I was amazed how seamlessly Gonzalez does it. Her second novel, Anita de Monte Laughs Last, was published last year -- I haven't gotten to it yet, but it's on my shelf, staring me down as I type this. 

A Country You Can Leave, by Asale Angel-Ajani -- In some ways, this is a great companion novel to Perris, California -- similar themes, driven by character voice, similarly accomplished as a debut novel, similar setting. Like many of these novels, this was a book I took a chance on based on the recommendation of someone whose opinion I hold in high regard. And they were not wrong. It's fantastic!

The Divorcées, by Rowan Beaird -- If you've noticed a theme in this list of books, it's that many of them are populated with absolutely fierce, not-to-be-messed-with women. And this one is no different. Plus a really fascinating setting -- a divorce ranch in Nevada -- make this debut a spectacular read. 


Thursday, January 16, 2025

Someone Like Us, by Dinaw Mengestu: The Many Ways Stories Examine Truth

Our Reader-in-Chief Barack Obama chose Someone Like Us, by Dinaw Mengestu as one his favorite reads of 2024. I'd read and was amazed by one of Mengestu's previous books, All Our Names, so this novel published in July had been on my radar. But Obama's endorsement bumped it to the top of the priority list, as I continue to catch up on 2024 novels I missed when they were published. 

This is a slim novel with a seemingly simple plot -- an American-Ethiopian journalist named Mamush is flying back to the US from Paris, where he now lives with his wife and special needs son, to visit his mother. Mamush's marriage is on the rocks for a number of reasons, but his drinking isn't helping. Neither does it help that Mamush misses his flight to Washington DC, and then for reasons he probably doesn't fully understand himself, gets on a flight to Chicago, instead. Chicago is the city of his childhood --  where he and his mother, and sometimes a mysterious fella named Samuel lived in a small apartment, trying to make ends meet. 

Who is Samuel? The backstory paints him as a sort of father-figure and mentor to Mamush, but he has a complicated past and even more complicated relationship to Mamush's mother. We find out on the first page of the novel that Samuel, an Ethiopian immigrant like Mamush's mother, who has made his life's work as a cabdriver, has died around the same time Mamush arrived in Chicago.

But who is Samuel, really? Why has he had such an outsized influence on Mamush's life, for better or worse? And how did Samuel die? These are the central questions of this novel.

Mengestu is a genius, pure and simple. Even with the relative simplicity of the story, this is a novel that doesn't allow you to get comfortable. You have to pay close attention and it takes a while to get your rhythm as a reader. The narrative constantly shifts to memories, past conversations, childhood scenes -- and then quickly moves back to the present. But there are two strands of real-time story, too. And then Mengestu has even more tricks up his sleeve as we hurdle to the ending, and, we hope, an answer to the novel's questions.

This is also a novel about storytelling -- how memories and stories overlap and mix and become an amalgam of several different interpretations of events. Sometimes stories are idealized to hide truth. Sometimes stories are exaggerated to emphasize truth. Sometimes stories are a tool for excavating a truth that is too difficult to arrive at head on.  

I know this will put some readers off this book, but it truly is a novel that requires some thought, concentration, and undivided attention. It's not a difficult read, but Mengestu is subtle. He's not slapping you in the face with what he's trying to do here. There were times I didn't give it the mental space it deserved and those times I was just looking forward to finishing it. I wish now I would've highlighted some of the beautiful and profound passages in this novel. Because they are what drew back in -- there would be a sentence or scene or a quote that would stop me in my tracks, and I'd be like "Dammit, I really should've put more into this book." It's also probably a novel that requires a second reading. But it's an ideal book club book, and I enjoyed the time I spent with it.