Another excellent chapter in Lucy Barton‘s life. I know that some readers are not ready for Covid pandemic related fiction. I thought I was completely fine with it (Romantic Comedy by Curtis Sittenfeld didn’t give me anxiety) but this one really stirred up memories and feelings I thought were long buried. All the more reason I suppose to commend Strout’s uncanny ability to understand and convey the human psyche and all of its foibles.
I also love that Olive Kittridge shows up in this novel, because I had planned to go back and read it, along with all Olive Again, before embarking on her latest that just came out (Tell Me Everything) wherein both characters come together.
I don’t know what I’m going to do with myself when I’m done reading all of Strout’s work! It’s funny how her novels are like candy I want to gobble up and binge, whereas other series I want to savor and drag out (like Louise Penny novels). Both are excellent and I have been really enjoying this ride!

MY Favorite Thing Is Monsters is the first graphic novel I have ever paused and thought about putting down. Not because the story wasn’t compelling, but because I felt so overwhelmed by frenetic, visceral and horrifying sensory overload. I guess I should have understood that it was a horror novel, which normally isn’t my thing. But my love for graphic literature, novels about Chicago, and analyzing art made me see it through. I am exceedingly glad I did, it is a captivating story that weaves together a story of Nazi Germany within a setting of post Vietnam America. 
If you are a fan of horror, I would WHOLEHEARTEDLY recommend you must read this book! I also found the artist and the story behind the making of these novels rather fascinating, so I will probably pick up the second book. Would love to hear thoughts on these if you’ve read them!

The reviews for The Heaven and Earth Grocery Store seem to fall into two camps: those that thought there were too many characters to keep track of and gave up on it, or those that saw it through to the end and deemed it a five star read. This dichotomy put me off of reading it for a while because I knew that I would have to see it through to the end in order see why people loved it!
I understand completely both schools of thought on this book and I kind of land in the middle: I loved being immersed in the town of Chicken Hill and becoming familiar with all of the residents, who all absolutely leapt from the page. I thought that the way McBride elucidates racial tensions between the different groups of people, and WITHIN them, during the early 20th century was thoughtfully rendered.
Though some plot threads felt superfluous or overly long, I do love a novel that weaves them together into a satisfying conclusion, and it definitely made me want to seek out more of James McBride‘s work! I am thinking Deacon King Kong next…

The reviews for Margot’s Got Money troubles are all over the place. I for one really enjoyed this heartfelt story of a girl growing up and making (HUGE) mistakes that she ultimately learns and grows from - as do we all, albeit without a recovering addict and pro wrestler as a father figure. Yes it’s an outlandish tale wherein the 19 year old protagonist, in an attempt to make ends meet and support her baby after having an affair with her married professor, takes a stab at Only Fans and hilarity ensues (doing a podcast where everyone is on shrooms is one highly creative nugget). But isn’t reality sometimes crazier than fiction? Yes this IS fiction, but it drives home the idea that so many people lead completely ‘abnormal’ lives, and that doesn’t make them any less human and relatable. Margo’s unconventional life could have easily been made into something political (that teen motherhood, legal pornography, etc. is nothing to be ashamed about) but was quite nuanced, and not at all overbearing. It’s an uplifting story about how we can overcome trying times - and by leaning on each other, we become our best selves.

The History of Sound was one of the best short story collections I’ve read in a long time. I especially love ones that have interconnected details that shed surprising light on the previous stories. The narratives ran the gamut from slightly terrifying, shocking, foreboding, quirky, endearing, and a bit humorous. Each was so realistic, raw and provocative. I felt like I learned something about human nature (and sometimes history or science) with every installment, while also being completely hypnotized by the prose. I highly recommend the audiobook because it is read by a cast of excellent actors and added so much to the experience.

I picked up Can’t We Talk About Something More Pleasant after reading a New York Times article on excellent graphic novels/memoirs, because it had been a while since I read one of my favorite genres. 
And boy, this one really punched me in the gut. My mom died almost exactly two years ago, and thankfully I didn’t have quite this same experience - but anyone who has dealt with the worry in navigating the morass of caring for an elderly parent who is dying will absolutely identify with this account. Our system is so broken when it comes to elder care, and I remember thinking the same when I read, We all Want Impossible Things by Catherine Newman. The fiscal and emotional cost that goes into palliative care is beyond wasteful and cruel. 
There were alternating moments of laughter and great sadness, with a lot to unpack on how we reconcile a traumatic relationship with a person who is dying or had died. Heavy stuff, but I highly recommend.

I love visiting Nantucket every summer and I’m sad that Elin is retiring from this type of novel for the foreseeable future. Thankfully, there are a few in her backlist that I missed so I still have a few to keep me going over the next few summers.
I don’t think Swan Song was her best, and I feel as if her last few would’ve made better “swan song” novels - particularly Golden Girl. This kind of gave the air of trying to cover all of her bases in saying goodbye, rather than something clever, thoughtful, or moving. Also, I feel as if her daughter was already starting to weave herself into the narrative with some really cringeworthy uses of Gen Z slang that just felt out of place - saying someone is ‘smoke show’ hot (which is also redundant if someone is a total smoke show, they’re hot), the repetition of ‘sneaky link’, calling women ‘queen!’, etc.
Alas, it is still a page-turning and fantastic summer escape. The increasingly outrageous parties thrown by the newcomers were so fantastically rendered and the infighting with friends was sadly very relatable. I can’t help but always highly recommend her books for the absolutely delicious immersion into the scenery, the food, and social scene of Nantucket.

Reading Good Material felt reminiscent of reading High Fidelity by Nick Hornby back in the day. It’s not often you get a pining lovesick story from the male point of view. The tone, though, was just a little too melancholy for my liking. Andy became too much of a sad sack and the story dragged: watching a character make mistakes over and over can work in some situations, but for some reason his coming of age/emotional maturation just didn’t resonate with me. I very much enjoyed the humorous moments, the vibrant cast of characters (especially his elderly roommate), and I appreciated how the author wrapped up the ending. But Ghosts is her superior book IMO.

This installment slightly missed the mark on a full five star experience for me. I think readers are supposed to find William somewhat insufferable, and also ultimately lovable. (The title choice is obviously spot on.) But I did get a little tired of him, and was hoping for more side character interaction. Interestingly, Lucy is examined from different angles that made her feel that much more fully realized and fallible. There is a bit more interaction with their children, and a wonderfully memorable scenes with William’s ex. I think I just prefer the narrative to center around the people from Lucy’s hometown.

I cannot for the life of me remember where I had heard The Courage to be Disliked was an interesting read. I gave it a shot, but I was completely turned off by the hokey and condescending delivery system of this philosophical thesis as a conversation between a philosophy teacher and young skeptic. (See also: silly parables like The Alchemist.) There are some aspects of I agree with regarding this repackaged take on Western Adlerian philosophy, but mostly it feels like victim blaming and wildly outdated regarding current psychology and science on trauma.