Last winter, when I was spending time in San Diego, I shipped a box or two of California citrus back to my guy here in Boston. I loved passing orange and lemon trees on my morning runs, and picking up fresh local fruit at the grocery store or the La Mesa farmers’ market. I wanted to send him a handful of juicy SoCal sunshine – tangerines and Meyer lemons and blood oranges to brighten the winter days.
While we ate a ton of citrus during our idyllic San Diego weekend this year, I’ve been craving it still since I got back. So, to supplement the bags of clementines I buy at the grocery store, I’ve splurged on a box or two of citrus from Good Taste Farm. It’s admittedly a lot more expensive than those $5.99 bags of clementines – but I have loved opening up a box filled with tart blood oranges, straight from the sunny West Coast. It’s a splurge I can afford (once in a while), and it’s made me so happy on these grey winter days.
February has been a strange month – I’ve been fighting a weird upper respiratory infection, and the weather has swung from frigid to balmy, with very little snow. Meanwhile, here’s what I have been reading:
The Cuban Heiress, Chanel Cleeton Two women – and the man on whom they both want revenge – board the SS Morro Castle, a pleasure cruise between New York and Havana. Elena is determined to get her daughter back, and Catherine (who’s not really an heiress) is wary of both her fiance and a mysterious jewel thief she meets. I like Cleeton’s historical novels, but this one felt a little thin; I prefer her series about the Perez sisters. To review for Shelf Awareness (out April 11).
Pride & Puppies, Lizzie Shane Dr. Charlotte Rodriguez is swearing off men after dating too many not-Mr.Darcys. She gets an adorable golden retriever puppy, Bingley, and everything is fine – except she might be falling in love with her sweet neighbor, George. Meanwhile, George is head over heels for Charlotte but weighing a possible move back to Colorado (with plenty of unsolicited advice from his sisters). I loved this modern-day Austen-inspired romp with two wonderful main characters (and so much puppy cuteness).
See No Stranger: A Memoir and Manifesto of Revolutionary Love, Valarie Kaur I picked up Kaur’s memoir at Yu and Me Books in NYC and was blown away. Kaur tells the story of her childhood in California, her family’s Sikh faith, her experience mourning and documenting hate crimes after 9/11, and her journey into love, healing and activism. She’s a strong writer and an even stronger person. Thought-provoking and compelling.
The Language of Trees: A Rewilding of Language and Literature, Katie Holten Holten, an Irish artist and writer, has invented a tree alphabet – and this gorgeous collection of essays, poetry and quotes features each piece in English and in her Trees font. Wide-ranging, thoughtful and an urgent call to preserve and cherish the trees we still have. To review for Shelf Awareness (out April 4).
The Lioness of Boston, Emily Franklin When Isabella Stewart Gardner came to Boston as a newlywed, she struggled to find her place in the rigid, wealthy Brahmin society. After struggling with infertility and losing a young child, she eventually began traveling and buying art – becoming a famous “collector” of both art and people. This novel – elegant, intimate, fascinating – narrates Isabella’s story in first person. I loved it, and it made me want to go back to her museum. To review for Shelf Awareness (out April 11).
The Stories We Tell, Joanna Gaines This book showed up in my Christmas stocking, and I’ve been reading it slowly. I like its emphasis on owning all the parts of your story, though lots of it seemed vague and repetitive. I most enjoyed the parts where Gaines actually shared her personal experiences. Warmhearted, but a mixed bag.
A Murderous Relation, Deanna Raybourn Veronica Speedwell and her colleague, Stoker, are called upon to investigate a scandal possibly connecting a prince to the Whitechapel murders. The case takes them to an exclusive brothel and all over London – including face-to-face with several villains they didn’t expect. A fun entry in this highly entertaining series; I was glad they didn’t dive over-much into the Jack the Ripper cases.
How to Be Brave, Daisy May Johnson Calla North is used to looking after her mother, Elizabeth, who knows a lot about ducks but not much about everyday life details. But when Elizabeth goes on an expedition to the Amazon and Calla is sent to boarding school, she must band together with an unlikely crew of friends (and nuns!) to rescue her mother. A super fun middle-grade adventure with engaging characters.
It has been a strange winter: we’ve had (knock on wood) hardly any snow, at least by normal Boston standards. We had the cloudiest January on record and a bitter cold snap in early February (which, thankfully, I missed because I was in California).
It’s felt a bit odd not to step around piles of slush, and I’m getting a little worried about what this unusual winter might mean for the rest of this year. I struggle with snow and cold and ice, but I know the plants and the ground need it to give us the other beautiful New England seasons I love.
But. I spotted the first purple crocus in our community garden the other day, pushing up through mulch and sticks and a few bits of discarded litter. And it gave me the same heart-leap of joy and hope as every year: no matter what, no matter the grey skies and existential crises and chilly nights with or without snow, spring will still come. It’s a relief and a blessing to know that the promise is kept: that underground, where we can’t yet see it, growth is happening. Color and joy, and new life, are on their way.
We’re halfway through February (and more than halfway through winter – I hope!). I’ve recently been to the West Coast and back again. Here’s what I have been reading:
A Treacherous Curse, Deanna Raybourn Veronica Speedwell and her colleague, Stoker, are drawn into a third mystery surrounding some artifacts from an Egyptian archaeological dig. A fun romp involving a diadem, a possible curse, complicated relationships and a chase through the sewers of London (very Les Mis). I’m enjoying this clever series – I flew through this one on a cross-country plane ride.
Tumble, Celia C. Pérez Adela “Addie” Ramirez is floored when her stepdad proposes adoption. She loves him, but it’s a big decision, especially since she knows next to nothing about her biological dad. Addie’s sleuthing leads her to nearby Esperanza, N.M., and the Bravo family – her family – of legendary luchadores. I loved watching Addie navigate her new family dynamics, step into her own identity and deal with a big theatrical performance at school. Wise and warmhearted.
The Wife App, Carolyn Mackler After she finds out her husband is cheating, Lauren Zuckerman files for divorce. While toasting her new life, she and her two best friends, Madeline and Sophie, hit on an idea: an app to make money from all the mental-load tasks that wives typically do for free. The app, and its launch and ramifications, will change all their lives – and change the way all of them think about work and relationships. A smart, funny, occasionally sexy ode to female empowerment and going after what you really want (while juggling childcare, relationships and camp forms). I blew through this in one sitting. To review for Shelf Awareness (out June 27).
Choosing to Run, Des Linden Like many people, I was completely awed by Linden’s gritty, historic 2018 Boston Marathon win in terrible conditions. Her memoir intersperses an account of that day with the larger story of her life and career. She’s plainspoken, engaging and dedicated. As a runner and a Boston resident, I loved it. To review for Shelf Awareness (out April 4).
The People’s Hospital: Hope and Peril in American Medicine,Ricardo Nuila Confession: I put off reading this ARC because I feared it might be depressing. But Nuila’s insider account of practicing medicine at Ben Taub, an unusual public hospital in Houston, and the lives of his patients is anything but. Compassionate, detailed, accessible (and yes, occasionally infuriating), this is a wise look at how American medicine is failing nearly all of us, and a glimpse of a different way forward. Urgent and timely. To review for Shelf Awareness (out March 14).
Coronation Year, Jennifer Robson London, 1953: the coronation of Elizabeth II approaches, and the residents of the Blue Lion, a small inn, are hoping it will change their fortunes. Edie, the owner, needs a financial and morale boost; photographer Stella is building a new life after some horrific wartime experiences in Italy; and Jamie, an Anglo-Indian artist, has landed a big commission. I love Robson’s warm, thoughtful, well-researched historical fiction, and this is a lovely look at ordinary people during a historic time for Britain. To review for Shelf Awareness (out April 4).
Luck and Last Resorts, Sarah Grunder Ruiz Yacht stewardess Nina Lejeune is focused on work and fun, but she’s been hiding from her feelings about chef Ollie Dunne for years. When Ollie gives her an ultimatum, Nina has to finally see if she’s brave enough to pursue the life she wants. I found Nina maddening – it took her forever to face her issues – but I liked how this played out.
A Dangerous Collaboration, Deanna Raybourn Veronica Speedwell and her colleague Stoker (see above) end up on a remote Cornish island, trying to solve the mystery of a woman who disappeared on her wedding day. The case involves Stoker’s brother, the dead woman’s husband, his sister (who has a passion for poisons) and various other characters. Highly entertaining, like this entire series.
Little Women, Louisa May Alcott I’ve loved Alcott’s story since I first read it at age 7, and it’s been a delight to reread it slowly, this winter, along with Annie and others. It’s comforting and tender and true, and it has shaped so many of my ideas about work and love and womanhood. I love it still.
Happy Monday, friends. Today’s delight is pure fun: the handful of twinkly gold earrings that are making me happy right now.
I have several pairs: the slender gold rectangles above, a gift from my friend Abigail; the sunbursts I found at an Abilene boutique over Christmas; a pair of tiny bicycles (a gift from my partner); and a pair of delicate gold gingko leaves by the same artist.
I’ve been rotating them out with my winter scarves (or, more recently, during a much-needed long weekend in San Diego), and it brings me a burst of joy to have some sparkle at my ears, especially on these grey winter days.
What’s bringing you sparkle in the midst of winter?
Everyone forgets that Icarus also flew. It’s the same when love comes to an end, or the marriage fails and people say they knew it was a mistake, that everybody said it would never work. That she was old enough to know better. But anything worth doing is worth doing badly. Like being there by that summer ocean on the other side of the island while love was fading out of her, the stars burning so extravagantly those nights that anyone could tell you they would never last. Every morning she was asleep in my bed like a visitation, the gentleness in her like antelope standing in the dawn mist. Each afternoon I watched her coming back through the hot stony field after swimming, the sea light behind her and the huge sky on the other side of that. Listened to her while we ate lunch. How can they say the marriage failed? Like the people who came back from Provence (when it was Provence) and said it was pretty but the food was greasy. I believe Icarus was not failing as he fell, but just coming to the end of his triumph.
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I came across this poem online this week, as a blogger I follow announced her separation. It made me think of my own marriage, and how we failed, yes, but also flew, over the decade-plus we were together. Four years later, there is still beauty (and some pain) in what was, and also in the new life I’ve made since then.
Recently, I hopped down to NYC for a night, to see & Juliet (a fun, sparkly, feminist rewrite of Shakespeare’s tale with a powerhouse cast) and wander the West Village. I went to Three Lives & Company, of course, and swung down to TriBeCa to browse the Mysterious Bookshop, then walked over to Chinatown to check out Yu & Me Books (tiny, twinkly and packed with customers).
The whole time, one of the things I found most enchanting was the tiny, unscripted interactions between New Yorkers. I’m endlessly fascinated by the social glue that holds cities together, and I love being an observer (and sometimes a participant) in this city that’s become one of my second homes. Here are some of the snippets I adored:
The older woman in black sparkly Ugg boots who was clearly a regular at the C.O. Bigelow pharmacy (I think her name, which the pharmacist called out, was Nancy). The two 30-something friends sitting next to me at lunch, one of them giving the other a great deal of earnest relationship advice. The kind French couple who let me take my time ordering at Maman, when I was tired and hungry and overwhelmed. The three men – two 50-something, one probably 70-something – reminiscing and telling travel stories, including hitchhiking behind the Iron Curtain, at Elephant & Castle. The kind waitress who brought me soup, a BLT and hot chocolate that evening, and let me take the rest of the hot chocolate to go.
I always love eavesdropping at Three Lives, and this time was no exception: I heard book recs and ten-second reviews, plans for the weekend and bookseller gossip. A woman wearing red lipstick and carrying a stack of books declared, “Let me tell you my Three Lives origin story,” and proceeded to detail how she’d come into the shop for the first time on the anniversary of her father’s death. At Yu & Me Books, the young Black woman who rang me up was wearing my favorite Out of Print Princess Leia T-shirt, and we shared a moment about books and Star Wars.
Though I’m shy around strangers, once in a while I’ll respond to a comment I overhear, or compliment a stranger’s outfit; I did both this time. Two tall Midwestern women and I marveled at the size of the municipal buildings near City Hall. “It’s a lot bigger than mine at home,” joked one of them. And when I complimented a fellow theatre-goer’s gauzy black dress, she gestured to herself: “This whole look – twenty bucks! Amazon!” The best part was her grin, which was (obviously) priceless.
I’ve never lived in NYC, but it is mine, and these scraps of connection are part of the reason why. The glittering, human mosaic that makes up the city is a big reason I keep coming back. Eight million stories (and counting) – and I get to be a tiny part of some of them, every time.
Hello, friends. It’s technically the halfway point of winter, though we in the Northeast know we still have weeks to go before spring really comes. No matter what the groundhog says, we can expect biting winds and freezing temps for a while yet.
January was unusually grey – the cloudiest in decades, according to my favorite weather guy. I struggle with short days and bitter nights , and have been feeling a bit uninspired at work and in my own creative practice. So I needed the push, more than usual, to really look at what’s saving my life these days.
Here’s my list – I’d love to hear yours, if you’d like to share:
Clementines. These little bursts of sunshine are my favorite winter fruit. Their sweet-tart zing is just the best, and I love the way the scent lingers on my hands.
January has been a long year, as someone commented on social media recently. The latest batch of books, fortunately, has been excellent. Here’s what I have been reading:
Under the Henfluence: Inside the World of Backyard Chickens and the People Who Love Them, Tove Danovich Danovich dreamed of owning chickens during her years in Brooklyn – but when she moved to Oregon and ordered three chicks, she had no idea how they’d change her life. A warm, engaging, often hilarious deep dive into chicken-keeping, the poultry industry, chicken care and the ways these little birds steal their owners’ hearts. Informative and fun. To review for Shelf Awareness (out March 28).
Island of Spies, Sheila Turnage Hatteras Island, 1942: As World War II heats up, Sarah Stickley “Stick” Lawson and her two best friends, Rain and Neb, hunt for mysteries to solve on the island. They’re soon caught up in some real espionage, possibly involving the cranky postmistress, two enigmatic visitors, a couple of baseball players and Stick’s older sister. I loved this middle-grade novel about family and secrets and standing up for what’s right; I also adore Turnage’s Three Times Lucky and its sequels.
The Theory of (Not Quite) Everything, Kara Gnodde Siblings Mimi and Art have always been close – especially since their parents’ tragic death. But in her thirties, Mimi gets restless and wants to find love. Art – a mathematical genius – agrees to help her if he can use an algorithm. When Mimi falls for Frank, another mathematician, Art is distressed for a few reasons. A thoughtful exploration of sibling dynamics; I loved Mimi’s friend Rey, and Frank himself. (Heads up for a few seriously heartbreaking death and hospital scenes.) To review for Shelf Awareness (out February 28).
Other Birds, Sarah Addison Allen When 19-year-old Zoey moves into the condo she inherited from her mother on tiny, beautiful Mallow Island, she’s hoping to uncover some family secrets – but other secrets start to emerge almost immediately. From the resident turquoise birds to the suspicious death of one of her neighbors, plus a local reclusive author, Mallow Island is teeming with mystery. I love Addison Allen’s warm, enchanting Southern fiction; this one has some engaging characters, but also lots of deep sadness around abuse and addiction.
Operation Sisterhood, Olugbemisola Rhuday-Perkovich Bo and her mum have always been a team, and Bo likes it that way. But when Mum announces she’s getting married, they move from the Bronx to Harlem and in with Bo’s new stepdad, his daughter, another family who shares their house, and a menagerie of pets. Bo – an introvert, baker and happy only child – likes her new family, but struggles to adjust. A warm, funny middle-grade novel (like the Vanderbeekers turned up to 11) with lashings of Black girl magic.
The Covenant of Water, Abraham Verghese Verghese’s second novel traces the epic story of a family in southern India afflicted by a mysterious condition: one person in every generation dies by drowning. Spanning seven decades, the story begins with a child bride coming to Parambil, the family estate, and continues through several generations of love, loss, marriage, death, medical school and social change. Verghese is a medical doctor and it shows; the medical detail is painstaking (and occasionally gruesome). I read his memoir My Own Country in college and was blown away; he’s a powerful writer. To review for Shelf Awareness (out May 2).
People We Meet on Vacation, Emily Henry Poppy and Alex – polar opposites – have been best friends since college, taking an annual summer trip together. Until two years ago when they ruined everything. Poppy, floundering at work, is determined to salvage their friendship with one last trip to Alex’s brother’s wedding in Palm Springs. A funny story of travel disasters and friendship that might tip over into love; Poppy is wacky and oblivious, but eventually gains a little self-awareness. Fun for the winter doldrums.
As we grind our way through winter (I’m trying to embrace it, but grey days and sleet make it hard), I’m taking delight in a newish enjoyment: watching, and identifying, the birds in my neighborhood.
I’ve long loved the sight of a cheery robin redbreast, and the squawks of a bluejay send me to the window to search out that flash of bright cobalt against the bare branches. I adore the cheeky house sparrows who perch on my windowsill, and I like watching the mourning doves who sometimes take up residence there. But lately, I’ve been trying to pay attention to other breeds as well.
I found an Audubon guide at a used bookstore last summer, and I’ve been using it to try and identify a few of the birds I see on my windowsill or on my morning runs: black-capped chickadees, bright goldfinches, the terns who swim in the harbor. The gulls and hawks are easy to spot, but so many of the smaller gray and brown birds (known, apparently, to birders as “LBJs” or “little brown jobs”) require a bit more attention. I’m not always sure I’ve gotten it right, but it’s fun to try and puzzle out the name of a new species.
The other week, on a walk with my friend Sharon, I stopped in Piers Park to watch a flock of birds on the water. We spent a few minutes debating: they were ducks, clearly, but what kind? We squinted in the fading light, studying the white rings on their necks and the little spikes on the backs of their heads. Sharon pulled out her phone, consulted a birding app, and we decided: they were probably red-breasted mergansers.
I get a little thrill from identifying a bird, as Mary Oliver describes in her poem “Bird in the Pepper Tree.” But I get a different, deeper satisfaction from simply watching: noticing, observing, trying to see these birds as separate from my categorization of them. I loved watching the flock of birds bobbing on the water, knowing some of them were mergansers but some might be other species. The snapshot, in my memory, of leaning against the railing with Sharon, watching their black bodies against the waves blue with reflected light, was better than knowing their names.
As Oliver notes, “a name is not a leash” – though it can be, or enhance, a true joy.
RT @NifMuhammad: I feel a lot of gratitude for my older work, because without it -- without even the misguided attempts -- I don't think I'… 6 days ago
cakes, tea and dreams 