Review: The Best Dog in the World: Essays on Love (edited by Alice Hoffman)

My Rating: 4.5 stars

Written by 14 authors who are also dog-lovers and dog-owners, this collection of essays warmed my heart!  I read this in pretty much one sitting because I couldn’t get enough of these sweet canine creatures and all the different ways they teach us about love and affection, empathy and joy, and everything else in between.  I may not be a pet-owner myself (not because I don’t want to, but because there are too many people in my family who are allergic in some way), but that doesn’t mean I couldn’t relate to this collection, as I do have a soft spot for dogs and have plenty of friends and neighbors whose dogs I’ve happily played with and smothered with love and affection.  With that said though, I can’t help but be envious of those same friends and neighbors who are on the receiving end of their canine companions’ unfettered love and adoration day in and day out, so reading a book like this one definitely helps to satiate that envy (LOL).

I definitely recommend picking up this essay collection, especially if you are a dog-owner.  If you’re not a dog-owner (and perhaps not a dog-lover either), I still suggest picking this one up—who knows, you might be won over by these delightful reflections on life accompanied by the most loyal and devoted of pets.

Review: The Land and Its People (by David Sedaris)

My Rating: 4 stars

The Land and Its People is David Sedaris’s newest essay collection, published just last month, and the second collection of his that I’ve read so far this year.  Even though I have a print version of the book, I decided to go with the audio version again, as I saw that all the essays were recordings of live performances, which enhanced the reading (listening) experience for me last time, so I figured it would do the same this time around as well (and fortunately, I was right).

In this collection of essays, Sedaris employs his trademark wry, self-deprecating humor to reflect upon the various roles that we take up in this world and our numerous human relationships as well as interactions – essentially, he explores what it means to be a human being in this land that we inhabit.  As is his style, most of the essays reflect his irreverent sense of humor, with subjects ranging from the intimate – such as Sedaris’s relationship with his husband Hugh as well as his interactions with his siblings and various members of his family – to the strange and absurd, such as when he challenges his friend to eat a truck tire. And yes, some essays may feel more grating than others, especially the ones where he pokes fun at certain groups of people or pushes the envelope with some sensitive subjects – but my philosophy is usually to take this stuff in stride knowing that it is part of the humorist/comedian’s “act” -- as long as it doesn’t cross any lines, of course.

As a whole, I found this collection of essays quite enjoyable and many of them funnier than I expected, though there were a few where the joke was on me for not “getting” the punchline.  A few of the essays also sounded familiar, so likely I had read them from other publications, since Sedaris’s work is widely published.  Overall, this was a nice palette cleanser from the heavier stuff that I’ve been reading and helped me to unwind given the particularly stressful week I’ve had at work.  As I noted in a previous review, I am slowly making my way through Sedaris’s backlist and continue to insert some much-needed levity into my life wherever I can find it.

Review: Ordinary Time: Lessons Learned While Staying Put (by Annie B. Jones)

My Rating: 3.5 stars

This was a book club read for me and while I enjoyed it quite a bit, I found that I didn’t relate to it as much as I thought I would.  Annie B. Jones is a bookstore owner in the small town of Thomasville, Georgia and in this memoir-in-essays, she recounts the trials and tribulations of a quiet, “ordinary” existence – or “staying put” as per the book’s subtitle.  As a “stayer” myself, the overall theme that Jones writes about -- continuing to stay in the town where we grew up and living an ordinary life instead of venturing off on our own in pursuit of some grand dream – definitely resonated with me, though what that actually looks like in practice can be very different for each person. 

In her book, Jones reflects upon various aspects of her small-town life, which revolves largely around her family (her husband Jordan and their dog Sam Malone), her bookstore (an indie called The Bookshelf), a podcast (From the Front Porch), writing, and of course, books (lots of them).  While some people might see this as a “boring” existence, Jones offers a different view by shining a light on the positive aspects of living a quiet life staying put, though without glossing over the difficult aspects of said life.  She talks about instances of finding excitement in the mundane (i.e. living in a house with a pool) and not being afraid to show your vulnerabilities when the situation warrants it (i.e. trying her hand at line dancing despite not really knowing how to), but what I appreciated most was the sincerity of Jones’s conviction in “staying put” as a choice rather than something forced upon her due to circumstance.  Indeed, the uplifting tone made this an especially great listen on audio, which was the version I chose, and it truly felt like listening to a friend recap her day.

With all that said, of course there were aspects of Jones’s story that I related to more than others.  The sections where she talks about books and how they’ve influenced her life, for example, felt relevant to my own relationship to books, which made those chapters a joy to read. I also found relevance in the way she described her quiet, introverted personality, as I would also rather spend any free time I have reading at home rather than hanging out with other people. The sections about religion and faith, however, were less interesting to me, and I honestly ended up skimming those parts so I could get through those chapters faster.

Overall, I found this to be a pleasant read, though perhaps not particularly insightful or memorable, probably because so many aspects of my life are different from hers and those differences outweighed any similarities.  Either way, I’m still glad to have read this one and look forward to discussing it in book club.

Review: Never Grow Up (by Jackie Chan, with Zhu Mo)

My Rating: 3.5 stars

I decided to pick up Jackie Chan’s memoir not because I’m a fan (in fact, quite the opposite – he’s actually one of my least favorite celebrities nowadays), but because of nostalgia, as Jackie was a big name in the HK entertainment industry during its heyday in the ‘80s and early ‘90s, when the industry was flourishing.  Back then, the HK entertainment industry was known as “the Hollywood of the East” and rightfully so given the popularity of its stars, who were known all over Asia (and some internationally as well).  As someone who was born in Hong Kong, I’ve always had great affinity for my birth city, which is why it probably won’t come as a surprise that I’ve been following all things HK, especially its entertainment industry, pretty much my entire life.  As such, having grown up on a steady diet of HK movies, TV series, music, books, etc., I’ve become so familiar with the industry that I actually know it better than the “real” Hollywood (significant because I live in Los Angeles, so Hollywood is, basically, in my backyard).  Having devoted so much time and energy to following the industry for decades, I’ve unfortunately also witnessed its deterioration over the years (the past 2 decades especially). Not only that – there’s also the fact that many of the HK celebrities I grew up watching are either retired, less active in the industry, or in some cases, no longer with us (each time I hear about the passing of a HK celebrity, my heart breaks more than a little).  Given these circumstances, it’s understandable then why I would choose to spend time reading a book that 1) is “written” by a HK celebrity that I’m honestly not too fond of, and 2) tells me nothing that I didn’t already know (actually, I probably know more than what Jackie chose to share in his memoir, LOL).

Overall, I would have to say that the experience of reading (or, more accurately, listening, since I went with the audio book version) Jackie’s memoir was enjoyable, primarily because of the nostalgia factor, as he recounts many stories from those “golden years” of the industry that I remember fondly as well.  Of course, given Jackie’s stature as the “big brother” of the HK entertainment industry, he has worked with countless HK celebrities over the years, many of whom get “name-checked” in this memoir (which, to be honest, was my favorite part of the book, as I’m a fan of some of those other celebrities).

One thing that did surprise me about this memoir though is how candidly Jackie talked about some of the scandals as well as the less savory aspects of his personal life, especially in light of the fact that Chinese celebrities (specifically, those who grew up in Asia) are notoriously reticent when it comes to their personal lives. HK celebrities – the more famous ones in particular -- are big on maintaining their privacy and are extremely skilled at playing what I call “verbal tai-chi” with reporters (“verbal tai-chi” essentially means answering questions in a way that doesn’t really reveal anything and deflecting questions without people realizing they are doing it).  This is actually partly why gossip rags are so overwhelmingly popular in HK, since they go to great lengths to dig up the information that the celebrity doesn’t want to reveal.  In Jackie’s case, there are quite a few negative things that he is “known for” in HK (i.e. his carelessness with money, being neglectful toward his son, constantly cheating on his wife, etc. – and I’m only scratching the surface here).  Jackie actually addresses some of these things in his memoir, which I found surprising – though on second thought, some things were spun in a more positive light than how they actually played out (especially his relationships with his wife, retired actress Joan Lin, and son Jaycee – both of which are more strained than he lets on his memoir).

With all that said, one thing I was super curious about (and admittedly one of the reasons why I wanted to read this memoir) was to see if Jackie was going to mention anything about the big scandal that essentially “destroyed” his career and reputation in HK (his 1999 affair with actress Elaine Ng and the daughter from that affair, Etta, whom to this day, he still refuses to acknowledge).  Spoiler alert (well, not really) -- he DOES mention it, but in a roundabout, “blink and you’ll miss it” way – there is a short section where he mentions the “serious mistake” he made in 1999 that “resulted in a love child,” but then goes on to talk about the “media frenzy” that ensued and the impact it had on himself and his family (specifically, Joan and Jaycee) – in essence, he glosses over the situation and his own behavior and instead focuses on how forgiving Joan was towards him.  I will be honest in saying I was disappointed with the way he “kind of did / kind of didn’t” mention it, as I felt this was a missed opportunity to rectify things and salvage some of the respect that was lost (for the record, it was actually this scandal and the horrible way he handled things afterwards that made me lose all respect for him, which is why I said at the beginning of this review that he is one of my least favorite celebrities nowadays), but then again, it IS his memoir so he has the prerogative to write whatever he wants, how he wants.

While I’m glad I read this memoir, I realize that I’m actually not the audience for it.  To me, it seems that Jackie wrote this memoir more for a Western audience that might not know as much about him as those of us from his home town do – or perhaps he wrote it for his fans who probably know everything but love him anyway (which is perfectly fine – to each their own).  All in all, this was an enjoyable, if not particularly insightful, read.

Review: Made in China: A Memoir of Love and Labor (by Anna Qu)

My Rating: 3.5 stars

As I continue my new-found audio book journey, I’ve been focusing on listening to memoirs and other non-fiction works that I’ve had on my TBR list for ages, but never got around to reading previously.  One such memoir is Anna Qu’s Made in China: A Memoir of Love and Labor, which I can’t remember why I had on my list, but I’m glad I finally got to it.  To be honest, the subtitle of this one is kind of misleading, as there was little to nothing about “love” in these pages, though the part about “labor” is true enough.  Not long after Qu’s father dies when she was a baby, her mother goes to America to pursue a better life, leaving Qu behind in China in the care of her grandparents.  At five years old, Qu is finally reunited with her mother and her new family in Queens, New York, but instead of being a happy reunion, this becomes the start of a nightmare for Qu.  In addition to being forced to work at her mother and stepfather’s garment factory (aka sweatshop), Qu is also repeatedly abused by her mother, who favors Qu’s half-siblings (a brother and sister) and alternates between treating Qu as a maid (making her take care of all the household choirs as well as both of her half-siblings) or pretending she doesn’t exist.  Qu spends most of the book detailing the abuse she suffers at her mother’s hand, such as when she is punished for doing her homework and thrown out of the house by her stepfather at the direction of her mother.  The most harrowing instance of abuse is when Qu’s mother beats her with a hanger for daring to tell her half-sister to ask for permission before using her colored pencils – an incident that nearly kills Qu when she tries to jump out the window to avoid her mother’s violence.  Pushed to the end of her rope, Qu alerts the Office of Children and Family Services through her school’s guidance counselor and after an investigation, Qu sees her situation improve in that she no longer has to work in the family’s sweatshop (where any money she “earned” went to her abusive mother) and instead, she is allowed to make her own money through jobs such as a dental assistant and waitressing.  Even though the social worker assigned by the OCFS, Mary, helps make Qu’s life a little bit better, the one thing that Mary is not able to help Qu with is the one thing she desperately wants – to make her mother love her.  Qu eventually goes off to college and becomes estranged from her mother for the most part (though she does go back to visit her mother, stepfather, and half-siblings at their Queens home and has dinner with them as though nothing happened, which I honestly found a bit baffling given everything she suffered in that family, culminating with her mother’s most recent refusal to provide her with the signature needed for her to continue with her schooling).

In the second half of the book, which takes place 20 years later, Qu recounts her experience working at a start-up company that is on the brink of collapsing.  This portion of the memoir I felt was kind of irrelevant to everything that occurred in the first half (though perhaps Qu included it to show how miserable her life continued to be due to all the lingering trauma from the abuse?).  During this time, Qu decides to request her OCFS report and when she receives it, she is shocked to find tons of inaccuracies with the report, all the way down to the OCFS finding that there was no evidence that Qu was ever abused.  This revelation, along with the discovery that her mother had kept the news of her beloved grandfather’s death a secret from her, devastates Qu.  Though the memoir does end on a slightly positive note with Qu being reunited with the grandmother who raised her in China and the only person in her family who truly loves her unconditionally, that scene felt too short and abrupt to counteract the “heaviness” of everything that came before it.

Overall, I found this to be an uncomfortable read, not just because of the subject matter, but also because there were points throughout the memoir (though mostly near the end) where it came across as though Qu was trying to justify her mother’s abusive behavior by relating it to the struggles she endured being widowed at a young age and then having to build a life for herself after immigrating to America alone. In a segment near the end of the book, it almost felt like Qu was trying to find excuses for her mother, insinuating that perhaps the hardship of having to overcome her situation as a Chinese immigrant woman in America is what made her violent and abusive, which might be true, but then seems to dismiss everything else she had written prior to that. 

The other thing that made this a not-too-pleasant listen was the narrator of the audio book (not the author) who read the entire book in a tone that sounded perpetually angry and bitter.  While it can be argued that using such a tone probably makes sense in this case given the subject matter, it felt grating after awhile, especially after listening for several hours straight, and put me in a depressed mood.  I think this is an instance where it would’ve been better for me to actually read the book instead of listening to it via audio.

Review: Gather Me: A Memoir in Praise of the Books That Saved Me (by Glory Edim)

My Rating: 4 stars

I enjoyed this memoir from the founder of the Well-Read Black Girl book club, Glory Edim, where she discusses the books and authors that saved her during some of the most difficult moments of her life. From Nikki Giovanni to Maya Angelou, Audre Lorde to Toni Morrison, and many many more, Edim recounts how the words of these brilliant writers had such a huge impact on her and eventually inspired her to start her hugely popular book club so she could continue to uplift stories by Black writers.

Even though I come from a completely different cultural background, I found that I was still able to relate to quite a few of the struggles that Edim talks about in her memoir.  For example, as the daughter of traditional Nigerian parents who immigrated to the United States, Edim had to constantly navigate the culture clash between her American upbringing and her Nigerian heritage, with having to reconcile the two often leading to an identity crisis.  This is an experience that resonates deeply with me as someone who also comes from a very traditional culture (Chinese) that oftentimes conflicts with the culture that I was raised in (American). One scene from Edim’s memoir especially stuck with me -- she talks about how she was attending her father’s funeral in Nigeria, alongside her mother and her brother Maurice and ended up causing an uproar when she insisted on saying a few words, as the cultural mandate was for women to be seen but not heard:

“I had written something about my father that I wanted to read, but I was firmly told that it would not be possible: A daughter does not speak at her father’s funeral. A woman does not speak in church. I was told not to worry; Maurice could speak for us both.”  

Edim also recounts other instances during her trip to Nigeria where she would be standing next to her brother, but people would refuse to speak to her or even acknowledge her existence, choosing instead to talk to the male in the family. Coming from a culture that places higher value on sons over daughters, I know first-hand what it feels like to be on the receiving end of such snubs (both intentional and unintentional), so I applaud Edim for standing up for herself.

This was definitely a worthwhile read, one that was made even more special with its message about the power of books to not just entertain, but also inspire, heal, and serve as a refuge during moments when it is most needed.  This one is especially good on audio, where Edim’s lively narration adds an emotional element that without a doubt enhances the reading experience.  And yes, the book recs are a wonderful bonus!

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: 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: 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: 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!

Review: One Jump At A Time: My Story (by Nathan Chen)

My Rating: 3.5 stars

As a long-time figure skating fan, I always look forward to watching the skating events at the Winter Olympics, even though I may not be as familiar with the skaters competing that year – which was certainly the case last month when I tuned into the 2026 Milan Cortina Olympics and did not recognize any of the skaters, since majority of my favorite skaters are ones who were active in the 1980s, 1990s, and early 2000s, and are all mostly retired now.  That said, I did see many familiar faces in the audience, as many retired skaters attended the figure skating events as either commentators or to support the skaters and their teams.  While watching those events, I was delighted to see so many of my favorite skaters sitting in the crowd, especially given how the previous Winter Olympics in Beijing in 2022 were held in a bubble due to COVID, with the arena mostly empty since spectators were not allowed to attend.  Speaking of the Beijing Olympics, one of the skaters I saw in the audience during the Milan Cortina Olympics was Nathan Chen, who had won the gold medal in Men’s Figure Skating during those games – seeing Nathan reminded me that I’ve had his memoir on my TBR since it came out back in November 2022 and perhaps now would be a good chance to finally get around to reading it. As I’ve been doing with memoirs since the end of last year, I decided to listen to this one via audio so I could hear Nathan narrate his own story (this strategy of listening to the author narrate their own memoir / book has so far elevated the reading experience for me each time). 

In his memoir, which is cowritten with Alice Park, Nathan recounts his journey to Olympic gold --  starting from the time he put on his first pair of skates at three years old, to his various experiences climbing the ranks of elite figure skating, all the way through to his disastrous performance at the 2018 Pyongchang games and how he rebounded four years later in Beijing to win gold at an Olympic games that was held under strict COVID protocols, a dynamic that added another layer of pressure to an already stressful and demanding sport.  Along the way, Nathan reflects on the trials and tribulations of competing as a professional figure skater as well as the impact that his family’s unwavering support and sacrifices throughout the years have had on his journey.  Especially significant for Nathan is the fact that he won the gold medal during the Olympics held in the country of his parents’ birth, giving his journey a sense of coming full circle.  Nathan has always come across to me as humble and grateful, and this impression of him was definitely reinforced throughout the memoir, as Nathan brings up his family a lot and it’s pretty obvious that he holds them in high regard, which is refreshing to see.

Overall, I enjoyed reading this and it was fun getting to re-immerse myself in the figure skating world again (which I don’t do as often anymore), but I did feel that the audio experience was a bit lackluster, especially when compared to some of the other ones I’ve read / listened to recently.  With that said, I would still recommend this one, especially to skating fans, as it is no doubt an inspiring and encouraging story – and of course, this book will definitely be a treat for Nathan’s fans.

Review: No Time Like the Future: An Optimist Considers Mortality (by Michael J. Fox)

My Rating: 5 stars

With his iconic roles in television (Family Ties, Spin City) and film (Back to the Future, Teen Wolf, etc.), Michael J. Fox is no doubt a Hollywood legend. Growing up in the 1980s, I’ve always admired Mike’s work as an actor – his comedic timing and trademark sense of humor especially – but over the years, what has turned me into a bona fide fan of his is witnessing his battle with Parkinson’s, the disease with which he was diagnosed at the young age of 29.  In addition to his devoted advocacy work in the area of Parkinson’s research and raising awareness of the disease, Mike’s approach to life – his constant optimism and positivity as well as his ability to face adversity with consistent grace and humor – is nothing short of amazing, moving, and absolutely inspiring.

Prior to this one, Mike had written two memoirs detailing his journey, but this latest memoir stands apart in that it came out during the pandemic, when the idea of mortality was a very real and very serious concern for so many of us.  In the decade leading up to that time, Mike himself experienced several major health challenges that put his optimistic outlook to the test, including the discovery of a tumor in his spinal cord that required not only risky surgery but also a grueling recovery process, as well as a broken arm resulting from a devastating fall in his kitchen (an unintentional, but in his mind, avoidable, injury that also nearly broke his spirit).  In having to deal with these health challenges on top of his daily co-existence with Parkinson’s, Mike is forced to reassess his optimistic outlook and reflect on the reality of having to face mortality head-on.

As someone with a more cynical bordering on pessimistic outlook on life, I found Mike’s memoir both moving and uplifting, but most important of all, it put some of my own struggles into perspective.  Listening to Mike narrate this book via audio was especially powerful, so I would definitely recommend experiencing his memoir via this route if possible.

Despite the challenges, Mike continues to stay strong and active to the extent that he can be, which is great to see, but most significantly, he continues to remain positive and keep up his sense of humor, which I’m sure is not easy.  I wish him and Tracy and their wonderful family the best of luck!