A memoir-infused essay collection, Hong’s book offers a candid, incisive reflection on a variety of topics related to art, Asian American identity, performance, and relationship.

It is obvious when reading this book that Hong’s primary medium is poetry. Along with sentences steeped intention, rich vocabulary permeates each chapter and gives the personal, thoughtful reflections an urgency and intensity that makes this book particularly remarkable. A relatively short book by page count, Hong wastes not a word throughout the collection.

A main theme I noticed while reading Minor Feelings was Hong’s internal tension between being a token Asian American voice, expected to represent a wide swath of uncollapsible identities, and so deeply not wanting to hold that role. Ironically, I think the book’s subtitle is misleading in this way. It made me wonder whether Hong had a say in it — was it a conscious, combative choice or a miss on the part of the editors who boiled down the work in the precise way it asks not to be? The book covers such an array of topics and wrestles with the bifurcation experienced by those who are simultaneously privileged and oppressed. Naming it as an “Asian American reckoning” is, in my opinion, somewhat flattening.

All that to say: read this book. It’s important and deliberate and raw. I learned a lot but beyond that, I feel grateful to have experienced Hong’s incredible writing. Minor Feelings lands up there with The Undocumented Americans on my “everyone should read this” list. 

Gilda, the protagonist, is a late-twenties lesbian atheist who is wildly anxious and awkward. After receiving a flier for mental health services, she ends up at a Catholic church, is mistaken for a job applicant, and is offered the position of secretary. Desperate for work, Gilda accepts, though doing so requires a significant amount of identity masking. She also must learn some of the rhythms of her new setting, which provides its own source of comedy. 

This is a very character-driven novel. Gilda’s worries and thoughts make up the majority of the content — and it’s so very good. What I loved most about it was how real the depictions of anxiety and depression are. I related deeply to her panicky moments as she thought about things like the vastness of the universe and the insanity of skeletons. Austin wrote Gilda’s inner monologues with deftness and humor and humanity all baked in. Kindhearted yet debilitated by both fear & apathy, Gilda makes for a maladroit heroine that must attempt to navigate the world alongside her emotional chaos. 

The Secret Lives of Church Ladies is a collection of short stories that spotlights Black women of various ages as they push against prescribed narratives & wrestle with purpose, sexuality, and worth. One endorsement described the collection as “cheeky and insightful” and I second that. I can’t say every story was for me, but I thoroughly enjoyed How to Make Love to a Physicist, Peach Cobbler, Snowfall, and Instructions for Married Christian Men. The stories are rich, artistically diverse, and deeply human. 

I was surprised (perhaps I shouldn’t have been, given the word ‘secrets’ in the title) by how heavily sex factored in nearly all the stories. It was never gratuitous or explicit, but it did play a much larger role than I had expected. Additionally, I had the impression that the collection would be more... fun? Honestly, for the most part I found it fairly bleak. That’s not to say it wasn’t tender and at times funny, but most stories left me feeling rather melancholy. Each woman featured faces some significant strain — emotionally, relationally, etc — and I would have loved at least one story to be robustly joyful (the closest is How To Make Love to a Physicist). Finally, there is ample mention of church life & culture, but I wouldn’t define any of the protagonists as “church ladies.” They are all church-lady-adjacent, but perhaps that was Philyaw’s chosen device: a window into the lives of church ladies from those who are in some way outside the fold.

Home Cooking is what would have happened if, when Midge Maisel took a brisket to the bar to get Joel on the set list in the pilot of The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, she got discovered by a magazine editor and became a food writer instead of a comedian. One who is particularly obsessed with baked chicken, might I add!

This collection of essays reflects on cooking, hospitality, eating, and socializing. Colwin is witty, dry, and charmingly self-deprecating. She has company over regularly despite really just wanting to sit in her pajamas and eat food directly from the skillet. I was particularly tickled by the pieces on kitchen disasters, childhood favorites, picky eaters, the worst meals she has ever been served. Also, I do not like fish, but was somehow mesmerized by the essay on how to cook one properly.

I could see this book being wildly relatable to a certain group in a certain era, but at times I did struggle to connect with it. Growing up in a different region and socioeconomic class meant some parts just didn’t land for me. Finally, this book was written in the mid-80s and, well... you can tell. It’s got some pretty dated (and a few borderline problematic) bits, that just didn’t age well with the way humor has evolved. 

Dr. Wangari Maathai was an environmentalist and activist in Kenya. Unbowed chronicles her life, from birth in the rural highlands, through her education in both Kenya and the USA, into her early professional life as a professor, and through to her advocacy work for environmental issues, democracy, and human rights. I am in awe of this woman. Her tenacity and conviction are incredible. She speaks of her life with a combination of humility and clarity, showing that a single-minded commitment to what is right and good can truly drive large-scale change. Her efforts with the Green Belt Movement & pro-democracy activism deeply impacted Kenya, with an eye towards generational change and stewardship. 

The writing in this book is forthright and plain, very much a recounting with only snippets of philosophizing or moralizing. Dr. Maathai has remarkable confidence in her voice and actions, clearly speaking from a place of peace with her choices and assurance in her stances. I was particularly moved by her commitment to the “long arc of justice” and to the next generations. She sees what needs to be fought for and takes up the mantle, with an intersectional and deeply people-oriented outlook. 

Osheta Moore is a pastor and activist based in the Twin Cities. Her antiracism work is rooted in the idea that we are participants in bringing to fruition the Beloved Community in which people are uniquely valued and collectively embodies shalom. It is from this posture that she offers this deeply grace-filled book, addressed specifically to White* peacemakers who are navigating the waters of racial reconciliation.

I am truly awed by Osheta’s commitment to her kingdom ethic. She embodies the idea of loving correction. Every chapter of this book is full of nuance, vulnerability, education, and guidance. Ultimately, she names to her Gospel inspiration: that Jesus regularly points to a “third way” when presented with a binary choice. She acknowledges the humanity in each and every person she interacts with, dogged and uncompromising in her conviction of everyone’s Belovedness. However, she doesn’t soften or “make more palatable” the call for acknowledging the wrong, renouncing racism, and reparation for harm. I’m incredibly grateful for this book, and with continue to reference it in my own antiracism journey.

*I capitalized White to reflect Moore’s stylistic choice in the book. She has shared that she does so as a why to combat the idea of whiteness as a default (compared to the capitalized “others”). I realize this is an ongoing discussion and wanted to recognize her thoughtful viewpoint.

Three Apples Fell from the Sky is a story based in a rural, mountainous Armenian village where a tiny community of elderly residents support one another and keep traditions alive. This novel reads like a soft, wholesome fable with sprinkled in bits of magical realism. The community of Maran has experienced remarkable pain and loss, from famines to earthquakes to war, but they continue to bolster one another and bicker like family. 

The book is structured in three parts based on an old Armenian saying: “And three apples fell from heaven: one for the storyteller, one for the listener, and one for the eavesdropper.” There is only a loose driving plot; for the most part, you get to hear backstories of the charming, resilient residents and then peek in on their lives as they go on being the eccentric, superstitious, caring little village on the mountain. I had a particular soft spot for Nastasya, the wife of a village descendant, who arrives with an open-heart and willingness to be shaped by Maran. 

The writing — translated from the original Russian — is melodic and atmospheric. One of my favorite lines was: “That’s probably how things are supposed to be because that’s just the way it is.” It’s certainly a slow-moving book, but the town is so bucolic and its residents are so endearing, I just want to sit in the town square and continue to be a part of their little world.

This memoir tells the story of Trina Moyles who takes a job as a fire tower lookout in northern Alberta amidst some personal and professional tumult. After about a decade in the international development sector and three years living in Uganda, she returns to her home country in hopes of carving out a life for her and her fiancé, Akello. Moyles reflects on her experience in the remote fire tower, scanning the horizon for smoke, and sorting though her needs and priorities.

I struggled with how to rate & review this book, in part because commenting on someone’s personal narrative always feels a little fraught. This is Trina’s story, regardless of how I felt about it, and writing something like this take incredible effort and vulnerability. That said, I did feel unsatisfied by the book. What follows encompass my thoughts, but with the caveat that I honor Moyles’s efforts in chronicling her experience. 

From a nature writing perspective, I enjoyed Moyles’s recounting of her wilderness life and descriptions of the flora & fauna. She also did an excellent job of describing the lifestyle of a seasonal fire worker and conveying the climate implications of her industry. However, I also felt the book fell short in a few ways. The story’s pacing felt erratic and the writing -- especially the personal bits -- felt somewhat sophomoric. Relatedly, for a book that claims to be personal and introspective, I did not feel that Moyles’s gave enough space or depth to her inner dialogue. She did quite a bit of telling rather than showing, and I found myself frustrated at her lack of (expressed) accountability for her emotions and actions. She flirts with owning her choices but then sometimes devolves into blaming others. Finally, I did not enjoy the narration (listened on Libro FM). Typically, I really love memoirs that are read by the author, but Moyles’s inflections often felt performative which I found grating. 

Ultimately, this was a middle-of-the-road read for me. It may land differently for other people, so if the premise sounds intriguing, I’d say give it a go. But maybe stick to a physical book instead of the audio.

The Hundred Years of Lenni and Margot follows the friendship of the eponymous women who are both residents in the terminal ward of the  Glasgow Princess Royal Hospital. Lenni is seventeen and Margot is eighty-three, making their collective lives span one hundred years. When the pair meet in a patient art class, they decide to share their stories with one another as they paint matching vignettes.

I thought this book was so lovely. It's slow and soft, charming in a way that is unique to inter-generational relationships. The two help one another to process some of the harder bits of their past, but also help each other live fully in whatever time they've got left. Lenni and Margot get into light mischief and show each other deep respect as committed friends. It'd be a great pick for folks who enjoyed A Man Called Ove or Major Pettigrew's Last Stand.