Review: The Young Will Remember (by Eve J. Chung)

My Rating: 4.5 stars

Ever since I finished reading Taiwanese American author Eve J. Chung’s stunning and immersive debut novel Daughters of Shandong back in 2023, I have been eagerly anticipating her next book, so I of course was ecstatic to find out that her sophomore novel, The Young Will Remember, would be published this year.  Whereas Chung’s debut drew on her own family history – specifically, the story of her maternal grandmother and her experiences during the Chinese civil war -- this second novel is inspired by her half-Korean husband’s family history and shed lights on another lesser-known piece of 20^th century history:  the Korean War, which was also known as the “Forgotten War.” At the same time, Chung also incorporates her own experiences as a women’s human rights lawyer as well as her work with victims of sexual violence to bring some much-needed attention to the crime of military sexual slavery and the history of “comfort women” during World War II and the wars that followed it. 

Chung weaves these threads together through the story of Eleanor (Ellie) Chang, a Chinese American journalist who becomes trapped behind enemy lines when the plane she is riding in goes down in the mountains of North Korea at the height of the Korean War.  Upon witnessing her comrades being executed in cold blood, Ellie believes she is about to meet the same fate – that is, until a woman she later comes to know as “Emma” claims Ellie as her long-lost daughter Song Yun-Hee, whom Emma had been searching for ever since she was kidnapped by Japanese occupation forces during the previous war.  Even though Ellie is obviously not her daughter, Emma takes her into the home where she lives with her long-time friends, the Pak family – Pastor Pak, his wife Imo, and their son Jae-Min – and treats her as part of the family.  Gradually, Ellie forges a close connection with Emma and Imo – a relationship that only grows stronger as the war intensifies and they are eventually forced to escape to safety in the south. Throughout their harrowing escape, even as they bear witness to the chaos and destruction of bombs raining down on them almost daily, Emma never stops searching for her daughter and at some point, Ellie also takes up the search for Yun-Hee as her own personal mission.  While the search for Yun-Hee is a thread woven throughout the narrative, the heart and soul of the story centers around the bond that Ellie and Emma form as they endure the difficulties of life amidst the upheaval of war.

Once again, Chung delivers a moving story about ordinary women who, bound together by the will to survive the extraordinary hardship and devastating heartbreak that they face, fight against all odds to rise resiliently above the forces that threaten them.  In situating her characters within the historical context of the impact that World War II had on Korea (which she discusses in her Author’s Note), Chung succeeds in doing what well-researched and well-written historical fiction does best: shed much-needed light on little known aspects of history that can also serve as relevant teaching moments when circumstances require it.  In this light, and given its themes, the title of the novel – The Young Will Remember – is indeed apt.

While I still prefer Chung’s debut novel Daughters of Shandong (which was a 5-star read for me), this sophomore effort is a worthwhile read and definitely highly recommended – though with the caveat that this won’t be an easy read by any means, given its depiction of war and its atrocities. Even so, it is still time well-spent.

Received ARC from Berkley via NetGalley.

Review: This is the Story of a Happy Marriage (by Ann Patchett)

My Rating: 5 stars

Ann Patchett is one of my favorite authors, so it probably doesn’t come as a surprise that I will pretty much read anything she writes.  After finishing Tom Lake back in 2023, I’ve been slowly working my way through Patchett’s backlist and recently finished her 2013 essay collection, This is the Story of a Happy Marriage, which I listened to on audio – a wonderful experience in and of itself, since she narrates the audiobook herself. 

Despite what the title says, this collection of essays actually covers a variety of topics – yes, her marriage to Karl is talked about at length, but there are also essays about everything from her relationship with her grandmother, to her friendship with the late Lucy Grealy and the reception of the book she wrote about her (Truth and Beauty), to her closeness with one of the nuns who had taught her in school.  There are also essays about her dog, about how she came to co-own the bookshop Parnassus in Nashville, about her experience “training” in the police academy so she could write about it (her father is a retired LAPD officer), as well as the introduction she wrote as the editor of the 2006 volume of The Best American Short Stories (among many other essays).  Though I loved all of the essays in this collection, if I had to pick a favorite, it would definitely be “The Getaway Car,” which is Patchett’s manifesto about writing – the tips that she gives in this brilliant essay are absolutely invaluable, which also makes this a must-read for all writers, whether aspiring or seasoned.

One thing to note -- this is a compilation of essays that Patchett wrote for various publications over the years, but they are not in chronological order, so technically you can skip around if you want, especially if you already read a particular essay when it was first published (though for me, I still read the collection straight through from beginning to end, regardless of whether I had read an essay previously or not).  With that said, I would actually advocate for reading all of the essays in this collection due to the multifaceted nature of the essays, which, combined as a whole, provides a fascinating glimpse into Patchett’s world and especially helps those of us who are fans of her work better understand who she is not just as a writer, but also as a person.

This is a collection I absolutely recommend, whether you’re an occasional reader of Patchett’s work or a superfan like me – and of course, if you decide to pick this up, the audiobook is definitely the way to go, as there is something about listening to Patchett narrate her own essays that elevates the reading experience.

Review: A Living Remedy (by Nicole Chung)

My Rating: 4.5 stars

Nicole Chung’s second memoir is a poignant love letter of sorts to her parents, both of whom pass away less than one year apart – her father from diabetes and kidney disease in 2019, and her mother from cancer in 2020, during the height of the COVID-19 pandemic.  Chung’s grief is palpable as she recounts the tragedy of her parents’ deaths and her own helplessness in being able to do much for them, both due to financial hardship and physical distance. Mixed in with the pain of losing her parents – both of whom loved her deeply -- is the guilt that comes from feeling that she abandoned them by leaving behind the rural hometown that she grew up in as soon as she could, in pursuit of a life that couldn’t have been more different than what she had known.  Alongside that is the feeling of rage that followed Chung almost incessantly as she gradually begins to understand the role that deep-rooted inequalities in America’s healthcare system played in the premature deaths of both her parents, who were only in their 60s when they passed. In highlighting these disparities, Chung is not vindictive – instead, she lays out the challenges that her parents encounter with the system, and in so doing, not only gives voice to their experiences, but also provides an insightful look into the frustrations of a system that, in its deliberate complexity, is neither meant to be fair nor equal.

Chung’s account of her parents’ experiences especially resonated with me due to my own mother’s health issues, many of which are similar to her parents’: diabetes, kidney disease, breast and uterine cancer, high blood pressure, irregular heartbeat, just to name a few.  I understand the difficulties of having to navigate a complicated healthcare system that, at the end of the day, often times leads to disappointment and despair.  I could also relate to Chung’s worry for her parents as well as the guilt that comes from not being by her loved ones’ side when they needed her most.

This was a heartbreaking read, but also an insightful one that gave me so much to think about and reflect upon, both as it pertains to my own family situation as well as the overall state of the healthcare system in this country.  I definitely recommend this searing, honest memoir, especially the audio book version, which, even though not narrated by the author herself, was still powerful and poignant in its recounting of the everyday realities and struggles of ordinary people trying to live their lives.

Review: Charlotte's Web (by E.B. White)

My Rating: 5 “radiant” stars!

I’ve been feeling a bit nostalgic recently, so I decided to go back and revisit a childhood favorite: E.B. White’s masterpiece Charlotte’s Web, which is a book I adored and read many times as a child but never got the chance to re-read in adulthood.  Honestly, what can I say about this book that hasn’t already been said?  This charming story featuring an unlikely friendship between a pig and a spider is a timeless classic, with themes that readers of all ages can relate to.  Indeed, reading this book as a child, I delighted in the whimsy of the talking animals and like so many others, I adored Wilbur (to the point that I wanted a pig of my own, lol) and loved Charlotte (which is saying a lot considering my overwhelming fear of spiders).  Of course back then, the focus was on the two main animal characters (and rightfully so), but reading this now as an adult, I was also able to appreciate the rest of the characters in a way that I couldn’t as a child. For example, I found Templeton quite funny and could never help chuckling whenever the old sheep tricked him into doing something he didn’t want to do by appealing to his baser instincts.  The goose and gander and their brood of little goslings were fun to read about as well.  By comparison, the human characters were far less interesting in my opinion, except for when they made bumbling fools of themselves, which I admit that I did find kind of funny.  Upon each re-read, whether as a child or adult, I also found the message about the enduring power of genuine friendship, even through life and death, incredibly moving.

I’m definitely glad I got the chance to revisit this wonderful book as an adult.  It was just the heartwarming pick-me-up I needed after a grueling and stressful week at work. If I didn’t already have such a huge TBR to get through, I wouldn’t mind making it a habit to re-read a favorite childhood classic more often!

Review: Strangers: A Memoir of Marriage (by Belle Burden)

My Rating: 3 stars

This book has been getting a lot of buzz and several of my friends who’ve read it can’t seem to stop talking about it, so I decided to check it out for myself to see what all the fuss is about.  As has been the case with most of the memoirs I’ve been reading lately, I chose to listen to the audiobook version narrated by the author, Belle Burden.  While I did find this to be an absorbing read, I didn’t feel it was particularly mind-blowing to the point of garnering all the hype that it has.  I mean, yes, it was horrible the way Burden’s marriage ended and I definitely agree that her ex-husband James is a piece of you-know-what, but overall, I was a bit underwhelmed with the read. 

My first thought when finishing this was to wonder whether it was really necessary for this to be a book (apparently, its origin was an op-ed piece that Burden wrote for the New York Times).  Sure, I applaud Burden for speaking out and for shining a light on the issue of male privilege and the double standards that exist when it comes to infidelity, especially within the context of marriage, but at the end of the day, I’m not sure that I needed 240 pages (or 7 hours for the audiobook version) to reach this conclusion.  At times, the book felt a bit repetitive and there were some small details that we probably didn’t need to know, like the breed of her friend’s dogs for example.  And I’m sorry, but I totally did not understand the significance of the ospreys, which were mentioned way too often for it to not mean something.

From what I can see based on reviews I’ve read though, it hasn’t just been hype – this book has also been mired in quite a bit of controversy, mostly due to Burden’s family background, as both herself and her ex-husband come from a world of extreme wealth and privilege.  Of course, this doesn’t negate what Burden’s ex-husband did to her and she is right to feel aggrieved and all, but by the same token, I can see why the message (and this book as a whole) might not land too well with ordinary folks who don’t have the means to deal with everything that she does.  While it’s true that Burden does acknowledge her privilege (as other reviewers have rightly pointed out), there were still some blind spots throughout the book that, while probably not intentional, had the effect of making it seem like Burden either lacked self-awareness (best case) or was inadvertently flaunting her privilege (worst case).  In fact, Burden herself mentions several times throughout the book her “myopia” when it came to her privilege – for example, this section, where Burden is reacting to the letter that James’s lawyer sent informing her that he intends on enforcing the terms of their prenup (which meant she would likely have to sell one or both of the properties that she had bought): “I said, ‘Other women face much more dire consequences.  I should not complain.’ I had tried to have perspective, to see how privileged I still was, no matter what happened in the divorce.  But my fear had made me myopic again, only able to see what I would lose.” 

The above is just one example (out of plenty) that mentions the myopic lens through which Burden views her privilege.  Another example that stood out to me was the excessive amount of time that Burden spends talking about the private tennis club that she and James belonged to on Martha’s Vineyard (which is where their vacation property, or “summer home” as they like to call it, is located).  She talks about her experience with the club before and after her divorce – especially afterwards, when people gossiped about her and treated her differently and some of them ostracized her and how it made her sad, angry, depressed, etc.  When I read that, I was thinking to myself, really??  A bunch of privileged folks at a rich people’s club turn down their noses at her and she talks about wanting to die of embarrassment?  I would think that should be the least of her concerns in the grand scheme of things, but of course, this could just be my own dissonance due to lack of familiarity with that world.

Overall, while I feel bad for Burden in terms of the way her marriage ended and I’m glad that she finally found her own power and voice, there was too much of a “rich people behaving badly” undercurrent to the book that, at the end of the day, I honestly could not bring myself to care about.  With that said, I am obviously an outlier given the many 4 and 5 star reviews for this book so perhaps check those out as well to get a more well-rounded opinion before deciding whether to pick this one up.

Review: Vera Wong's Unsolicited Advice for Murderers (by Jesse Q. Sutanto)

My Rating: 5 stars

I’ve been wanting to read one of Jesse Q. Sutanto’s books for ages, so of course I was overjoyed when one of my book clubs picked the first book in her Vera Wong series for our monthly read.  After reading so many “heavy” books in recent weeks, this hilarious cozy mystery was the perfect palette cleanser.  I honestly don’t remember the last time I laughed so hard (and so much) – it’s definitely not an exaggeration to say that this was the (literally) “laugh out loud” funniest book I’ve read in ages!

As the elderly protagonist of the story, Vera Wong is a busybody who is meddlesome and nosy and yes, sometimes downright annoying in the way she likes to stick her nose in other people’s business, but she is also competent, efficient, endearing (in her own way of course) and always makes the most mouthwatering dishes (oh and let’s not forget her special skill of brewing the most perfect teas).  Growing up in a Chinese household, I was surrounded by my fair share of meddlesome aunties, so Vera’s antics in the story were both familiar and resonant.  I recognized Vera’s bluntness and her tendency to speak brazenly but matter-of-factly about things without taking other people’s feelings into account; the way she charges head and does what she wants when she wants, all rules be damned; her constant nagging and critiquing of not only her son but also all the young people in her orbit, though not in a grating way like the typical “tiger mom” but rather in a genuinely caring and protective “mama bear” way.  I love how Sutanto portrayed Vera in this realistic, yet nuanced way – on the one hand, Vera is a very traditional Chinese mother, yet on the other hand, she is also mindful of the younger generation’s mainstream cultural phenomena Tik Tok, Google, Buzzfeed, etc.  Indeed, I found the funniest scenes in the story to be those where the younger folks are shocked by Vera’s knack for discerning things that they didn’t think she would understand.  I also laughed so hard at the scenes where the young people in the story are simultaneously flustered and a tiny bit scared of Vera, yet they are also in awe of her and can’t help gravitating toward her, despite the obvious differences in the ways they see the world.  On the surface, the friendship between this elderly Chinese grandma and the young twenty/thirty something characters shouldn’t really work (because of the generation gap and all), but in this story, it not only works, it’s also beautifully rendered.

For me, being familiar with the culture also made this an especially engaging reading experience, as I was able to pick up on things that others might not have – such as the difference between the spelling of Vera’s last name (“Wong” versus “Wang”), for example.  I love being able to recognize these types of little details in stories – like finding Easter eggs – which in my opinion, makes the experience much more fun.

This was a delightful, heartwarming, and absolutely hilarious read – one that I absolutely recommend without question.  I’m looking forward to reading the second Vera Wong book (which I have on my shelf) as well as the Aunties series, which I heard is also excellent.  Sutanto is one of those authors who writes in a variety of genres – from cozy mysteries to thrillers to literary and contemporary fiction, as well as young adult and middle grade books.  I admire authors who are able to write across genres like that, so I’m definitely interested in checking out a few of those books as well.

Review: Know My Name (by Chanel Miller)

My Rating: 4 stars

This poignant and unforgettable memoir was difficult to read at times, but well worth the time spent.  I listened to the audiobook version where Chanel Miller recounts her harrowing experience of sexual assault in her own voice, which made this an especially powerful read.  In narrating her story, Chanel is candid about what she went through, laying everything out in explicit, gut-wrenching detail: the physical, mental, and emotional toll that the assault and subsequent years-long trial had on her; the excruciating pain of having to watch as the defense dragged her own and her beloved sisters’ reputations through the mud; the callous disregard for basic human decency; the attempts to reframe the narrative through victim-shaming and blaming, and worst of all, the injustice of a lenient sentence handed down by a judge sympathetic to the perpetrator. 

Reading Chanel’s memoir reinforced for me how broken our criminal justice system truly is – I mean, it is run by humans after all.  Sadly, one of my biggest takeaways from reading about Chanel’s experience is the painful realization of how cruel the system can be and it’s no wonder why so many victims would choose to suffer in the shadows rather than step into the light. It takes an immense amount of courage to face the criticisms, scrutiny, and judgement of strangers and acquaintances alike, especially with emotions running high on all sides.  What saddened and angered me the most was seeing how the ordeal not only upended Chanel’s life, but also the lives of her family members – for example, having to rearrange school and work schedules in order to accommodate constantly changing court dates, or having to drop everything and show up to court at a moment’s notice or lose the opportunity to make your voice heard.  In essence, the victim’s life is, at best, negatively impacted or at worst, irrevocably destroyed – with these types of odds, who would want to risk it?   I applaud Chanel’s strength and courage in not only standing up for herself (against an unfair and unjust system, no less), but also inspiring so many others to do the same.

This memoir is definitely a must-read in any format, but I would of course recommend listening to the audiobook version for an especially powerful experience.

Review: The Book Witch (by Meg Shaffer)

My Rating: 5 stars

The Book Witch is another fun, charming, delightful read from one of my favorite contemporary fantasy authors, Meg Shaffer.  I read and loved both of Shaffer’s previous books (2023’s The Wishing Game and 2024’s The Lost Story), both of which were so imaginative and brilliantly crafted that, when I heard she would have a new book out, I couldn’t help wondering how she would be able to top those two wonderful works.  Well, top those she did, as this newest work is not only wildly creative, but also simultaneously compelling and whimsical – storytelling at its finest, in my humble opinion. 

The story revolves around a whimsically named protagonist, Rainy March, whose job as a book witch is to defend works of fiction by acting as a “fixer” – with the help of a magical umbrella and an adorable cat named Koshka, she goes on missions to save beloved stories from being negatively altered and disappearing into oblivion. Whether it’s locating and escorting a runaway protagonist back into their story so they can live their “happily ever after” (as she does with Elizabeth Bennet in Pride and Prejudice), rescuing kidnapped detectives so they can finish solving the cases that are central to an entire mystery series (which she does for the noir Duke of Chicago series) or preventing entire fictional worlds from being burned down by enemy book burners hellbent on destroying stories that don’t conform to their tastes, Rainy is good at her job, partly because of natural talent and partly because she is a strict rule-follower.  That is, until she falls in love with the Duke of Chicago on one of her missions and continues to maintain a relationship with him – a decision that nearly causes her to lose her job as well as her magical powers after she is caught breaking rule number seven, which states that “real people belong in the real world and fictional characters belong in works of fiction.”  But then the beloved grandfather who raised her disappears, along with a precious book that was a gift from her deceased mother, which prompts Rainy to defy all the rules and conjure up the Duke to help her solve the case and find her grandfather before it’s too late.  Together, they jump in and out of famous book worlds such as The Great Gatsby and Alice in Wonderland in a race-against-time adventure that ultimately leads Rainy to uncover secrets that will change her life forever.

Structurally, this book is divided into seven parts, with each part named for a specific literary genre such as romance, mystery, fantasy, etc. – a “genre mashup” of sorts that not only correlates to the story’s actual plot points, but also reflects the book’s own impossibility of categorization into one specific genre (while, strictly speaking, I would classify this book as a fantasy, there are actually elements of multiple genres in here).  In addition to the clever structure, Shaffer’s writing flows so smoothly here that the reading felt effortless, yet also captivating – I definitely could not stop turning the pages.  In terms of plot and characters – well, let’s just say that Shaffer definitely did not disappoint in both areas:  I loved these characters just as much as I loved the characters in her previous books, and the plot went in a direction that I absolutely did not see coming, but in a good way (this is where the “wildly creative” piece comes in – read this book and you will know what I mean). 

I don’t know how Shaffer does it, but now after having read all three of her books, I am in awe of the way she is able to blend reality and fantasy elements so seamlessly into her stories. I’m usually not much of a fantasy reader, but Shaffer’s books are exceptions, as she blurs the line between the realistic and fantastic in such a way that I don’t feel like I’m reading a fantasy.  This brings me to another feature of Shaffer’s books that I absolutely appreciate and love – each of her books addresses contemporary societal issues (in this instance, the recent battles over book banning being the most prominent), but she weaves these into the story so seamlessly that, in most cases, you don’t even realize she’s doing it. 

My impression whenever I read one of Shaffer’s books is that she is a true book lover, as her passion for books and reading definitely shines through with each book.  Both of her previous books were homages to childhood classics (Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and Chronicles of Narnia, respectively), but this newest book steps it up a notch in that it is an homage to all books – both modern and classic – as well as the act of reading in general and its power to change lives.  Indeed, avid readers and book lovers will appreciate the various references to literary works and characters that Shaffer scatters throughout the story (including an Easter egg reference to her own debut novel, which I enjoyed seeing) -- though with that said, my absolutely favorite book-related reference isn’t to a fictional character, but rather, to one of my real-life book icons, LeVar Burton (and it’s obvious in the two scenes where she has LeVar make “cameo” appearances that Shaffer adores him as much as those of us who grew up watching Reading Rainbow still do).

There are so many great lines in this book (I highlighted so much that I had a hand cramp by the time I finished reading, lol), but one of my favorites is this -- “All stories are love stories when you love stories” – as it sums up the vibe of this book perfectly.  Needless to say, I’m officially a Meg Shaffer fan now and my bookish heart cannot wait to read her next book (that will no doubt be book and/or reading-related).  In the interim though, I definitely recommend all her books and hope more people pick them up, especially fellow book lovers and avid readers who love books about books.

Received ARC from Ballantine Books via NetGalley.

Review: Boring Asian Female (by Canwen Xu)

My Rating: 2.5 stars

I have serious mixed feelings after reading this book. At first, I thought this would be a book right up my alley, with its Chinese American protagonist and spot-on (in the first few chapters at least) depiction of the struggles with identity and belonging that children from immigrant families encounter. Indeed, I found the opening chapters especially resonant, as the protagonist, Elizabeth Zhang, talks about her singular obsession of getting into Harvard Law School and why this is so important to her – a perspective shaped by her experiences growing up amongst two disparate and constantly clashing cultures.  For the first four chapters, I was able to relate to Elizabeth’s struggles and actually felt that we had some things in common, which led me to empathize with her when she finds out about her rejection from the school of her dreams. But then, starting at the end of chapter five, the story starts to spiral downward into extreme dark academia territory and Elizabeth, instead of being a protagonist I could root for, instead becomes a character that I absolutely could not stand.  Actually, to be blunt, I hated Elizabeth with a passion – not only because of her extreme, over-the-top, verging on batsxxt crazy behavior and actions, but mostly because of her constant efforts to justify and rationalize her every horrible thought / action / behavior. 

There are two types of tropes in stories that absolutely frustrate me (and I try to avoid reading as much as possible):  one is “rich people behaving badly (and feeling entitled to it)” and the other is “delusional people acting stupidly (and constantly trying to justify it).”  The protagonist in this story was the perfect manifestation of the second category, which put her in “annoying as hell” territory for me – though to be honest, to say that I could not stand Elizabeth is actually putting it mildly. Starting from chapter 5 on, the entire time I was reading, the main thought running through my mind was that, at the end of this story, Elizabeth better get comeuppance for her bad behavior – in fact, finding out what the consequences would be for her was the only reason why I resisted the urge to DNF this book early on and instead, pushed myself to read through to the end (though yes, I did skim some parts, though mostly because I was starting to get a headache from reading sentence after sentence about Elizabeth’s horrid behavior and warped justifications, to the point that I honestly wanted to jump out the window).  Whether she gets comeuppance or not, of course I’m not going to mention, but I will say this – I hated the ending so much that I lowered my rating by one full star because of it.

With all that said, I am definitely an outlier with this book, as majority of the reviews I’ve seen so far have been fairly positive.  In this light, maybe this is one of those situations where I’m just not the right reader for this book in the sense that I’m probably taking the story too seriously rather than appreciating what the author was likely trying to do (satirical takedown of academia and the Ivy League admissions process, perhaps?).  Speaking of “takedown,” this book actually reminded me of another book written by a Chinese American female author that was also “satirical takedown” but of the publishing industry: R.F. Kuang’s Yellowface, which also featured a much-loathed (and, yes, delusional) protagonist engaging in the most god-awful behavior and justifying it up the wazoo (though by all accounts, that book was much better written, in my humble opinion). 

Given that I had such an unpleasant reading experience with this one, I am going to refrain from giving an opinion in terms of whether to recommend this or not, since each reader’s taste will be different.  I’m personally not a fan of dark academia, which probably played a role in why I couldn’t really stomach this one, but that doesn’t mean others won’t enjoy it.  So I would say before deciding whether to pick this one up, read other reviews to get a more well-rounded picture first.

Received ARC from Berkley via NetGalley.

Review: Calypso (by David Sedaris)

My Rating: 3.5 stars

I’ve been feeling a bit of overwhelm lately looking at my ridiculously long TBR list, which I keep adding books to faster than I am able to read them. This feeling of overwhelm, coupled with the fact that I am running out of space for all the physical books I have in my house, has driven me to make a few much-needed changes to the way I plan my reading. 

First though, let me explain how I got here.  Ever since I discovered Advance Reader Copies (ARCs) around 10 years ago, my reading life changed dramatically in that a huge focus of my reading every year has been on new releases.  Sure, I read backlist books as well, but except for my two years in graduate school (which, given my major in English Literature, required that I read tons of not only backlist but also classics), the majority of my time was spent trying to get through an ARC of a new release before its publication date.  At the same time, I also suffer from a serious case of BOOK FOMO where I will often go on book buying binges and before I know it, I will end up with a stack of books (both new releases and backlist titles) that I have every intention of getting to as soon as possible but inevitably set aside because of some other book I need to read (either for review or book club or both).  The result is that, over the past decade, I’ve accumulated hundreds (okay, it’s probably more like thousands) of books on my TBR (and bookshelves) that I want to read but haven’t found time to get to. 

So going back to the changes I mentioned earlier: in addition to incorporating audiobooks into my reading (which has helped me get through many of the nonfiction backlist titles in my collection), I’ve also been more intentional about requesting fewer ARCs, which gives me room to incorporate more books from my own shelves when planning my list of reads each month. Three months in, I am happy to report that this strategy seems to be working, as my reading log shows that I’ve read 10 backlist and 9 new releases so far this year, which is very close to the one for one ratio that I was hoping to achieve (though this will probably change when all the “big books” come out in the summer and fall, but I’ll cross that bridge when I get there – for now, I will take every win I can get, LOL).

Just today, I finished another backlist title – one of David Sedaris’s (many) essay collections, Calypso, which I had gotten as one of the Book of the Month titles back in 2018.  I’ve read individual essays/articles that Sedaris has written over the years in various publications, but this was my first time reading an entire collection of them in book form, which, I have to say, is an entirely different experience from reading them individually.  While I enjoyed this collection quite a bit overall, I didn’t find it as funny as I anticipated it would be, especially given Sedaris’s trademark wry, cynical, and candidly irreverent sense of humor that is usually right up my alley.  I’m thinking this could be because I listened to this one on audio – which of course meant that I was also doing other tasks at the same time – so it’s possible that I may have gotten distracted and missed some of the funnier bits. With that said, one of the particularly enjoyable aspects of the audio version is that a few of the essays were recordings from his live performances, which definitely enhanced the listening experience for those (and not surprisingly, I found those to be the funniest essays in the collection).

I actually have several of Sedaris’s essay collections on my shelf, which I intend to work my way through by interspersing them wherever I can (though I probably will need to do some research first to see whether I should pick up the audio or the print version).  I’m also looking forward to his newest essay collection coming out in May – just in time for summer reading!