A friend of mine, who I share of love of paddling and all things water with, lent me this book to read. It took me a while to get around to it, but I'm so glad I did. Memoirs are always one of my favorite genres to read. Loewen's memoir is incredibly intimate and personal. Written after receiving a terminal cancer diagnosis, "Up a Creek, with a Paddle" feels like Loewen's parting gift to his children, grandchildren, and all those who were moved by his work as a sociologist throughout his career. In its pages, Loewen is alive even though he's since passed. It seems like the best parts of him are entombed in this novel - his love of paddling, his well-researched insights parts of U.S. history we try to forget or stubbornly choose to misremember, and his wisdom, collected over nearly eight decades of life. I knew nothing about Loewen going into this novel other than that we shared a love of paddling, but after finishing the memoir, I feel saddened at his passing. His perspective on many of the challenges facing our country was so well-reasoned but also so hopeful. I wish I could read his thoughts on what's going on in the U.S. in 2025. I look forward to reading some of his other works, such as Sundown Towns and Lies My Teacher Told Me, to hopefully learn more from his writings. My only critique, as others have noted, is the abrupt shifting of focus from paddling stories to essays on antiracism or Reconstruction. I enjoyed both types of chapters, especially since they seem to encapsulate Loewen so well, but for the uninitiated reader who knew neither Loewen or his career as sociologist the juxtaposition can often seem quite harsh.

I think this may be one of my favorite books of all time! I am still working my way through all the books I've collected to read from little libraries around my neighborhood. I grabbed A Tree Grows in Brooklyn when I saw it because I remember some of my friends reading it as part of their English classes in school. I thoroughly enjoyed reading this book (I could not put it down!), but also wish I could've read it when I was younger. I think it would've been very impactful to my younger self. A Tree Grows in Brooklyn is so much more than a coming-of-age novel about a young girl, Francie Nolan, growing up in 1900s Brooklyn. It is truly a time capsule of early 1900s New York. The level of detail is incredibly immersive and absolutely enthralling. This is a novel you disappear into. A Tree Grows in Brooklyn is unique as a coming-of-age story in that it doesn't focus exclusively on Francie. As readers, we get deep insights into not only her immediate family members, but also her extended relatives and even more distant relations like her neighbors and other folks in her community. This is probably my favorite aspect of the book. Francie's aunt, Sissy, might be one of my favorite fictional characters of all time. She's so earnest and kind, but also incredibly theatrical and larger-than-life in a way that is almost unthinkable for the era she lived in. I loved how the book plays with society vs. Francie's perception of complicated characters like her father or Sissy. By the estimation of many (at the time of the book's writing or even now), these characters are good-for-nothings, but through Francie's eyes, they become complicated, beautiful people who you can't help but love despite their shortcomings. I think this book has one of the best beginnings and endings of anything I have read in recent years. The ending has such beautiful parallels to the start of the story that I couldn't help but feel nostalgic and a little weepy alongside Francie as she reflected on how far she came. I also LOVED the pacing and the decision to not tell the story in a perfectly chronological order. Truly an amazing American novel. And to think it's pretty nearly autobiographical to the author's own life! I think this is definitely a book I'll come back to again and again.

I feel a bit guilty rating this book so low. It's not that the content itself was particularly unforgiveable - it was charming in its own way. It's simply that this feels like a more of a cash-grab than a full-fledged book. Wiking's book feels like a blog post come to life, complete with affiliate links to all the trendy things I'll need to hygge-ify my life this winter: wool socks, candles, and trendy Danish lamps. It all felt a bit consumerist, like I was reading a targeted advertisement. I think this type of work is much more suited to short form content like a blog, podcast, or Instagram post. There is a lot of cool stuff in this book; fun Danish recipes, ideas for a perfect cozy night-in, and neat data collected about how to be happy; but reading it cover-to-cover is like reading a series of Buzzfeed list articles in quick succession. This is a book I would suggest someone flip through at a bookstore or waiting room for some fun cozy inspo rather than actually reading cover-to-cover. I skimmed through much of this book, but the sections I actually really enjoyed were those that were enlightening to aspects of Danish culture I was unfamiliar with. I loved learning about the Danes' obsession with sweets and their different Christmas traditions. I thought the advent TV shows and the woven paper heart garlands were particularly charming.

I have a fondness for listening to Mary Roach's books on audiobooks. The chapters are the perfect length to listen to while cooking, cleaning, or running a quick errand and I always leave learning something new. While sometimes her penchant for jokes feels like a bit much, overall, I tend to enjoy the levity Roach adds to her writing. Science writing can notoriously be a bit dry, so I'm very supportive of any efforts to try and keep things interesting, especially for works intended for a general audience. I think Roach does a great job at maintaining interest without sacrificing the quality of the information she presents. This, like her other books I've read, is a well-researched work. I think my favorite chapters were the ones where she visited different research institutes across the country and met with scientists studying things like which pet food coatings are most attractive to pets and how to measure the contents of someone's farts. As someone who works in science and spends her days trying to come up with ways to answer very different questions, it was really interesting to get a behind-the-scenes look about how these experiments are actually conducted in the lab. It's logistically way more complicated (and funny) that you might think initially!

I think there is a lot of beauty in this book. Norwegian Wood is a novel where not very much happens plot-wise but it's somehow still very emotionally complex in a way that lingers with you. It's a coming of age story about Toru, a young Japanese man, trying to cope with loss, loneliness, and immense aimlessness in a society that seems to try and forcibly propel us all forward whether we know where we want to go or not. To me, Norwegian Wood is a very intimate portrait of a young man with depression. I think a lot of readers will find solace in the meaningless suffering that takes place in this book. It's awful, but it's life and this book embraces the nihilism of that with open arms and shows us that life goes on regardless. This book would've appealed to me much more when I was younger, coming-of-age myself, and going through a lot of the same things as Toru. But as an adult woman, I struggled to follow the protagonist on his journey. In particular, I couldn't get pass the way Murakami represents the sexuality of his female characters. They have a very potent sexuality, but in a way that is almost exclusively focused on pleasing the male protagonist and earning his affection. There is something dehumanizing about this that unsettles me and I left every sex scene feeling deeply uncomfortable. I struggled as well with the non-consensual / dubiously consensual acts that took place between many characters. I think readers without a sensitivity to these subjects might have an easier time immersing themselves in this story.

I saw this book in a free library on my walk home one day and I'd heard so much about it, I couldn't help but grab it! I'm not the biggest fan of thrillers so this was a entertaining departure from what I typically read. I had a lot of issues with the book, but I think there's a lot in the story that makes it well worth picking up. With Verity, Hoover excels at slowly turning up the dial of creepiness and unease until you're feeling just as on edge as the main character. This was by far my favorite part of the book. I also loved how unreliable the characters were - it definitely added to how unsettling the story was. Verity, Lowen, and Jeremy often possess very different versions of what has happened and the reader is left to flip back and forth between the chapters, trying to parse out the "truth". I'd definitely suggest this book to anyone who wants a quick read that will leave you feeling a little disturbed and uncertain. I think it would be great for a book club so you could discuss everyone's different interpretations of what happened! My more critical thoughts with some light spoilers: The thing I primarily took issue with in the book is the relationship between Lowen and Jeremy. Perhaps it's just me, but I didn't feel very surprised when Jeremy was revealed to be as morally questionable as his wife - I felt creeped out from him by the beginning! It was strange to me that Lowen was readily welcomed into his life and that she latched onto him so quickly. Perhaps this is commentary on how vulnerable she is or much Jeremy excels at manipulation, but I just didn't feel that this book started as a typical romance story as others have suggested. For me, this book was creepy from the start and Jeremy was a big part of that for me. I'll also add that I find it medically impossible that Verity could believably fake a coma for so long, but after suspending disbelief, I did find it to be a fun addition to the story.

Wow, I loved this book. I think it might be one of my favorites I've read this year. Let's be clear - this book is not what it is marketed as. It is not a thriller, nor is it a murder mystery. It is a slow-moving story that takes a deep, critical look at what it means to be a woman in modern Japan by following Rika Machido, a investigative journalist, as she begins to cover a story on Manako Kaiji, a high-profile female serial killer. Fundamentally, this book is more about Machido's musings about her place in society than it is about the murder of Kaiji's victims. Is the right way for her to live as a woman to work herself to death, trying to emulate the men in her office who continually push the glass ceiling down upon her? Or should she be like her best friend Reiko and abandon her career to focus on being a family and a home-maker? Or should she be like Kaiji, who boldly pursues whatever she wants whenever she wants it and doesn't seem to care what anyone else thinks? I can see how those expecting a thriller would be totally disappointed by this. I'm not the biggest fan of thrillers to begin with, so I wasn't particularly let down. I found the main female characters to be so fascinating I couldn't book this book down. More of my thoughts with some light spoilers below: Throughout her investigation of Kaiji, Machido wrestles with figuring out the truth about the murders just as much as she wrestles with what the true responsibility and role of women in society is. Trying to determine for herself, "what a good amount is" in her own words. Kaiji rejects so many of the foundational rules for women in Japanese society, which is hilarious considering that Kaiji herself is a huge misogynist and anti-feminist. For example, Japanese women are expected to remain thin and appear delicate. By contrast, Kaiji is a fat woman who relishes in eating delicious food who has high expectations and demands of her potential suitors. The public seems to focus less on her being accused of murder, and more on the audacity of a fat woman to be content with her appearance and expect to be treated well by her partners. Throughout the novel, as Machido begins to learn more about cuisine through her discussions with Kaiji and discovers her own love of food, she too is endlessly harassed by those around her for gaining weight. The fact that Machido and Kaiji were subject to so much vitriol for gaining weight, yet were simultaneously more attractive to male characters after their weight gain was disgustingly fascinating to me. Another expectation of women Kaiji subverts is the role of woman as caretaker. Kaiji, Machido and her mother, Reiko all wrestle with the expectation of women to take care of the men in their life, almost in a maternal way. For Kaiji, this is the source of her power over the men who support her. For Machido and her mother, this is the guilt that follows them after Machido's mother divorces her father and his life begins to unravel. For Reiko, this is the way in which she loves and attempts to control her husband. Coming from a family where traditional gender roles are the norm, I have seen this dynamic play out over and over again. I couldn't help but cry alongside Machido as she is equal parts angry and sad because of her father's decline in health. While on one hand she feels strongly that her father was responsible for his own health, she still feels guilty for not taking care of him and this guilt is impressed upon her by others in her life By contrast, Kaiji is unapologetic about abandoning the men under her care when she's done with them. She completely withdraws her love, her care, and her food, and these older, somehow helpless men seem to die as a result. Kaiji feels no guilt for this. I am endlessly fascinated by the dynamics between Reiko, Kaiji, and Machido. They are beautiful, complicated, and a little bit twisted. I definitely want to re-read it. My only issue with this story is that Machido and Reiko don't confess their love for each other and leave their loser boyfriends behind to go enjoy themselves in that nice three-bedroom house.

Wow, I don't think I've ever gotten through an audiobook of this length this quickly. Even after engaging with PRK's writing for a solid 18 hours of my life, I find myself dying to know more. This book, which tells the story of the opioid crisis through the lens of the Sackler family, is perfect for a modern reader who is already aware of their role peddling OxyContin. Going into this book, I already knew that the family was implicated in the death of thousands of Americans through starting the opioid crisis, but I wasn't sure exactly how. Furthermore, living in Boston, so close to the many prestigious institutions the Sacklers donated to, it isn't uncommon for me to stumble across a building that still proudly displays their name. I thoroughly enjoyed the level of depth PRK goes into in this book and his narration on the audiobook is excellent. It was fascinating to not only follow along as the Sacklers took the steps that would ultimately snowball into the opioid crisis, but get a view into their minds as they did so. What PRK's book reveals so clearly is that there was not an ounce of remorse or acknowledgement of wrong doing by any of the Sacklers, across three generations (nearly a century!), ever. Going into this book, I had assumed, incorrectly, that the trials surrouding the Sacklers involvement were already done and this book would simply be a re-telling. But as I neared the books end, I was shocked to hear that much of the litigation was still ongoing even as recently as 2021 when the book was published. After reading the book, I followed up on the case and saw that it was ruled on by the Supreme Court this summer in 2024! In a 5-4 decision, the justices shot down the Sacklers' settlement, which included a hefty payment, some 6 billion dollars, for managing the opoid crisis, but also prevented the Sacklers from ever being sued again for their involvement in Purdue Pharma. I am so curious to see how this develops as the Sacklers have to go back into bankruptcy court and work out the details again. I hope PRK will write an update from his view, whether in the form of an article or an updated afterword to the book, because I am so curious as to what's going on behind the scenes. Furthermore, as someone working close to the pharma industry, this book has given me a lot to ponder about the inherent maligned incentives in the industry. I have been musing about what sorts of policies or other measures can be taken to prevent such blatant and horrible corruption from ever happening again. The opioid crisis is a huge failure of the institutions that many Americans used to trust, like the FDA. I am excited to read more about this subject soon!