Most mornings, after journaling and breakfast, I pull on my running clothes and head out the door to spend a few miles pumping my legs and getting some fresh air. I don’t always have music playing at home, but I almost always listen to it on my morning runs. My “custom” Spotify mixes swing between the genres I love most: nineties country, mellow jazz, soulful singer-songwriters and Broadway show tunes. And I have to say, lately the mixes have been killing it.
My folk mixes are crammed full of my longtime faves, like the Indigo Girls and the Wailin’ Jennys, and newer-to-me discoveries like Birds of Chicago and Abigail Lapell. My Broadway mixes have been heavy on the & Juliet pop tunes since I saw it in NYC, but they also include doses of Hamilton, Amelie, Come From Away, The Fantasticks and other musicals I love. And you’ve heard me rhapsodize about my love for nineties country: Martina, Faith, Shania, Reba, Jo Dee, and (forever and always) George Strait.
It’s a pleasure when the mix turns up song after song I love, as my feet pound down the familiar paths of the parks or harborwalk or greenway. A good mix – especially one I don’t have to fiddle with – delights me every single time. (I’m convinced it helps me run faster, too.) Good music is so happy-making.
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.
As the snow swirls down outside, I’ve been plowing (ha) through books – poetry, fiction, memoir and strong women, as usual. Here’s what I have been reading:
Swan, Mary Oliver I adored this Oliver collection, unsurprisingly – especially the first poem, and several others. She writes so well about nature, the interior life, seasons and paying attention. Perfect morning reading.
Salty: Lessons on Eating, Drinking, and Living from Revolutionary Women, Alissa Wilkinson I’ve known Alissa online for years, and loved her book of essays on smart, strong, bold women – Hannah Arendt, Edna Lewis, Maya Angelou, Laurie Colwin and others – who had interesting things to say about food, gathering, womanhood and community. If that sounds dry, it isn’t; Alissa’s writing sparkles, and each chapter ends with a delectable-sounding recipe. Found at the lovely new Seven and One Books in Abilene.
Running, Lindsey A. Freeman As a longtime runner, a queer woman and a scholar, Freeman explores various aspects of running through brief essays – part memoir, part meditation, part academic inquiry. I enjoyed this tour of her experience as a runner, and the ways she writes about how running shapes us. To review for Shelf Awareness (out March 14).
Beyond That, the Sea, Laura Spence-Ash During World War II, Beatrix Thompson’s parents send her to the U.S. to escape the bombings in London. Bea lands with a well-off family, the Gregorys, and her bond with them – deep and complicated – endures over the following years and decades. A gorgeous, elegiac, thoughtful novel about love and loss and complex relationships. To review for Shelf Awareness (out March 21).
Winterhouse, Ben Guterson Elizabeth Somers, an orphan who lives with her curmudgeonly relatives, spends a surprise Christmas vacation at Winterhouse, an old hotel full of delights. She makes a friend, uncovers a dastardly plot, makes some mistakes and discovers family secrets. I liked Elizabeth, but I really wanted this to be better than it was.
The Belle of Belgrave Square, Mimi Matthews Julia Wychwood would rather read than go to a ball – but the only way to placate her hypochondriac parents is to plead illness. She’s rather miserable when Captain Jasper Blunt, a brooding ex-soldier in need of a fortune, arrives in London and begins pursuing her. A fun romance that plays with some classic tropes; I loved Julia (a fellow bookworm!) and her relationship with Jasper. I also loved The Siren of Sussex; this is a sequel of sorts.
The Light We Carry: Overcoming in Uncertain Times, Michelle Obama Michelle needs no introduction from me; this book discusses some of the tools she uses to steady her during challenging times, such as knitting, exercise, friendship and keeping her perspective straight. I loved the insights into her marriage and her relationship with her mom, and her practical, wise voice. So good.
Earlier this month, I joined a running club – the newish, informal, neighborhood group that meets at the foot of the Golden Stairs, mere yards from my house. I’d been seeing their posts on Instagram for months now, and seen them running in a pack through the neighborhood – but I’d hesitated to try it out. I usually like to run alone, plus 7 a.m. sounded a wee bit early…plus (and this is the real thing) I hate walking up to groups of strangers. I’ve never enjoyed that moment of being the odd new person, but like so many things, it’s gotten worse with two years of isolation during the pandemic.
But. It’s spring (tipping into summer this weekend, with 90-degree temps on the way). The mornings are lighter; the lilacs are blooming; the azaleas are a blaze of pink and the rhododendrons are right behind them. And in small ways, I can feel myself opening up, too: finally unclenching after months of clinging to all things safe and familiar.
Don’t get me wrong: I still need lots of nights on my couch with a book, or morning runs by myself with the Wailin’ Jennys or Martina McBride in my ears. But some things feel more possible, less scary, than they did a year ago. I’m seeing it all around me: people are traveling again, eating in restaurants and gathering with friends. I went to the movies last night for the first time in a year. It all feels like training wheels for being back in the world, a chance to try out – in a safe context – the things we used to do and the things we want to do, and decide which (if any) we’d like to keep.
Long before the pandemic, I was telling myself a story about meeting people in Boston: that it’s hard and scary and they probably won’t welcome me anyway. This was true at my first workplace here, and I’ve carried it with me, like a stone in my chest, for a decade. It has taken years to untangle that story, and the fear still rises up every so often. But the other week, I set my alarm for 6:15, ate some granola and drank a cup of tea, grabbed my keys and headed down the stairs. Just try it, I told myself. If you hate it, you never have to go back again.
Well. I didn’t hate it – as evidenced by the fact that I got up early this morning for the third Friday in a row. I ran a 5K last weekend in the sweaty, steamy heat with some of these people – and I didn’t even mind that much when I came in dead last. I’ve run into a couple folks already in the neighborhood. And most weeks, we walk to the new cafe afterward to grab coffee and chat.
It feels like community, like connection, like finding a new way to be in this neighborhood where I’ve spent three joyful and also difficult years. It feels like pushing off with those training wheels, learning to balance again. It feels – in a sneaky, surprising way – like joy.
December has been rushing past, and between work craziness (so many thank-you letters!) and trips to the post office, I’ve been reading. Here’s the latest roundup:
The Man Who Died Twice, Richard Osman The Thursday Murder Club is back on the case! An ex of Elizabeth’s shows up, spinning an interesting tale (he does that) involving stolen diamonds and international intrigue. People start dying, naturally, but this crew of elderly folks (plus their police compatriots) are on it. A really fun second outing for these characters, and so very British.
God Rest Ye, Royal Gentlemen, Rhys Bowen Lady Georgiana is preparing for her first Christmas as a married woman when she’s summoned to Sandringham by the queen. With family in tow, Georgie and her husband Darcy spend Christmas with Darcy’s eccentric aunt and an odd mix of guests – and of course there are a few murders. I love this series and this was a jolly Christmas entry.
The Lincoln Highway, Amor Towles I loved Towles’ two previous novels so I was excited about this one. It follows several young men (and one younger boy) on a road trip gone sideways. I enjoyed the characters and some pieces of the story, but didn’t really feel like the whole of it came together.
The People We Keep, Allison Larkin I’ve enjoyed Larkin’s previous novels and loved this one, about a young woman who scrapes together a career as a singer-songwriter in 1990s New York. The details (especially the coffeehouse where she works) felt so real, and many of the characters were so well drawn. Heartbreaking sometimes, but ultimately hopeful, and lovely.
Shepherds Abiding, Jan Karon I love this Mitford Christmas story – it’s sweet and funny and makes me cry every year. This year I had some extra sympathy for Father Tim and the overwhelm of the season. A lovely December reread.
The Bright Side Running Club, Josie Lloyd Keira is feeling pretty good about her life: happily married, mother of three, owner of a thriving small business. But then she’s diagnosed with breast cancer and things begin to spin out of control. Keira joins a running group made up of women dealing with cancer, and her new friends – not surprisingly – help her get through not only treatment, but some other struggles. Heartwarming and witty despite the heavy subject matter. To review for Shelf Awareness (out Feb. 8).
It’s a Wonderful Woof, Spencer Quinn Chet and Bernie are back just in time for Christmas – with a tricky case involving a fellow private eye, a deconsecrated church and the painter Caravaggio. Not to mention a little romantic trouble for Bernie, and plenty of treats for Chet. This series is so much fun and this was a great installment.
For leggy geraniums in my kitchen window and brilliant afternoon light.
For morning runs along the harbor and the greenway. For so much outdoor public space in my neighborhood, and a body that is strong and healthy, beautiful and resilient.
For a kind, brilliant, passionate, funny, fierce man whose love sustains me.
For a few local friends who are my lifelines, every single day.
For my faraway family, both blood kin and chosen.
For texts and calls with my girlfriends scattered across the miles. For the technologies that allow us to share in the details of one another’s lives.
For vaccines, nurses, doctors, public health officials and everyone who is (still) working so hard to keep us safe.
For a job at a neighborhood nonprofit that I love, working with good people to bring music and creative empowerment to our young folks.
For nourishing trips this summer and fall – to Texas, Minneapolis, Vermont and beyond – to explore new and beloved places and spend time with folks dear to me.
For music in all its forms: the Wailin’ Jennys and the women of country on my long runs, humming favorites in my kitchen, singing carols with others at Christmas choir rehearsal, hearing our ZUMIX students play ukulele or drums or guitar.
For good books, those who write them, and the chance to read and review them regularly.
For a place – my studio, my neighborhood, this city, my communities – where I have built a home and been welcomed into other people’s homes.
For all – as my friend Amy would say – that we have been given.
If you’re celebrating this week, I wish you a wonderful Thanksgiving.
It’s no secret I love a solo trip to NYC. Some of my favorite memories of the Big Apple are from weekends spent wandering the streets by myself. My last trip there, though, was kind of a failure: it was January 2020, just days after my divorce court date. I thought I wanted an adventure to look forward to, but once I was there, all I wanted was to be back home. I came back early and didn’t regret it, but I’ve been wanting to revisit NYC alone (and basically unable to do so) ever since.
I hopped down to NYC a few weekends ago for my shortest trip to date: I was there for just over 24 hours, and it was a hot, humid whirlwind. But I loved wandering my favorite tangle of streets in the West Village, browsing bookstores and drinking my weight in iced tea. Here, a few highlights:
My beloved Three Lives & Co. is in a temporary space due to renovation, but I made sure to walk down West 10th to visit their new digs. I had a long browse and a lovely conversation with Nora, one of the booksellers, and bought a fabulous compendium of essays about Manhattan.
I headed straight for Bryant Park (see above) when I arrived, for lunch and a lemonade. But once I made my way to the Jane, where I stayed, I stuck to Chelsea and the Village all weekend.
I walked and walked – to Pink Olive, to Chelsea Market (above), to various shops that looked intriguing. I popped into cafes for iced tea and took photos of flowers and street art. And I had dinner at Roey’s (the most fantastic burrata pizza), and sat outside on one of my favorite corners in the city, sipping a gin cocktail and scribbling in my journal until nearly closing time.
Sunday morning meant a long run through the Hudson River Park (the High Line wasn’t open yet, but I loved discovering a new-to-me running route). Then I had a fantastic sandwich (with iced chai) at Three Owls Market, and wandered up to 192 Books, where I’d never been.
I grabbed some snacks for the train, walked around some more, and headed back to Penn Station to catch my train home. I was exhausted and delighted, and so glad I went. The city is waking back up, and it felt like mine again.
A few weekends ago, I hopped on a plane – still a novelty after nearly 18 months of not going much of anywhere. I was headed to a new-to-me destination: the Twin Cities. I’ve been taking a writing class through ModernWell with Nina Badzin and others during this pandemic year, and when my classmates started planning an in-person meetup, I knew I had to be there.
Nina and I have been friends online for years, but we’d never met in person, and I’d never met any of the other women in our class. But in some ways we know each other deeply: we have spent the past year meeting via Zoom on Tuesday mornings, exchanging updates about what we’ve been reading and watching, then discussing writing prompts and craft, and sharing our writing with one another. I don’t know all the names of their kids or where they went to college, but I know the soul-deep insights they’ve shared in class these last months. In turn, they have been sounding boards for me as I processed my pandemic grief, post-divorce loneliness and various job hunt woes.
My friend Debra picked me up from the airport and took me straight to Lake Harriet for lunch and a run (see top photo). “I feel like you need to run a city lake while you’re here,” she had told me. She was determined to show me the best parts of her hometown, which included that lakeside run, a bike ride to the cute little town of Excelsior on Saturday morning, a long walk around Lake Minnetonka (shades of Betsy Ray!), and several delicious meals both out and at home. (Debra has a fun cooking Instagram, and I loved watching the magic happen in real time in her kitchen.)
I didn’t care about most touristy things (we skipped the Mall of America, for example) – but I had to make a pilgrimage to a certain street corner downtown.
I went through a serious Mary Tyler Moore phase after moving to Boston. I watched all seven seasons of the show over the course of a year, and I drew strength and comfort (and a lot of laughs) from Mary’s adventures in Minneapolis and her close bonds with her friends and colleagues. So of course I had to go pay homage, and throw a hat (which I borrowed from Nina) in the air.
The rest of the weekend was filled with eating and talking: so many stories to tell and catch up on, so many delicious dishes to sample. Debra and Nina took me to the charming Excelsior Bay Books (after brunch at Coalition) on Saturday, and then Debra whipped up a fabulous happy-hour spread for the whole group before we all went out to dinner. I was out of words every single night by the time I went to bed. And it was wonderful.
Just as Debra intended, I was utterly charmed by the Twin Cities, and by meeting her and my other ladies in person. I’ll definitely be back.
Happy July, y’all. I can’t believe we’re here. We always seem to wait forever for summer in New England (certainly this spring dragged, for several reasons), and then when it’s here, it feels rich and fleeting. The trees are lush, the roses and daylilies are showing off, and I’m cranking up the country music on my morning runs. Though, really, I’ve been doing that for months.
I was raised on country music, as you may know (or assume) if you know that I grew up in West Texas. My hometown had a half-dozen country radio stations, and my parents had a stack of George Strait cassettes that we nearly wore out on our long summer road trips. (I shocked a colleague at Harvard, years later, by telling him – and I am still confident in this assertion – that I could probably sing, on demand, at least 50 of George’s 60 number one hits.)
George was and is the king of country as far as my family is concerned, and I love a lot of his male compatriots: Alan Jackson, Brooks and Dunn, Randy Travis, the guys who sang in Alabama and Diamond Rio. I have a soft spot for Brad Paisley (especially “She’s Everything”) and I still adore Garth Brooks. But this year, I’ve been spending my miles mostly listening to the women of country music.
I loved them all as a child and teenager: Reba, Martina, Trisha, Shania, the women of the Dixie Chicks (now the Chicks) and SheDAISY. I marveled at LeAnn Rimes (what a prodigy!) and based my high school graduation speech around Lee Ann Womack’s “I Hope You Dance.” I can still sing you most of Faith Hill’s hits from that era, and Deana Carter’s dreamy debut album takes me right back to middle school.
I’ve never stopped loving country music, but I did stop listening to it for a while. I grew older, my tastes expanded to include folk music and Broadway show tunes and so muchChristian pop music (bless it), as well as jazz and big band and the classical stuff we sang in choir. I left Texas, stopped driving to work (and thus listening to the radio as often), and married a fellow Texan who was a real snob about country music.
With all that, I’ve been on hiatus from these ladies for a decade or so. But I’ve been tiptoeing back: I heard the Highwomen at Newport Folk 2019 and fell completely in love. Last spring, I loved Mary Chapin Carpenter’s “Songs from Home” on Instagram during quarantine, and a few weeks in, I went down a Jo Dee Messina rabbit hole. This winter, in the depths of job-hunt woes and loneliness, I rediscovered Martina McBride. And since then, I have been pounding down the harbor walk singing along to classics like “Heads Carolina, Tails California” and “Take Me As I Am” and “She’s in Love with the Boy” and “Independence Day.”
These songs are a particular brand of badass feminism: it wears mascara and uses (a lot) of hairspray, and it doesn’t let a man (or anyone else) tell it what to do. It celebrates grit (“I’m a Survivor”) and individuality (“Wild One”), and it champions both true romance (“Perfect Love,” “We Danced Anyway,” “Wild Angels”) and the need to leave sometimes (“Ready to Run,” “Consider Me Gone”). There are power ballads and tender love songs; there are girl-power anthems and some good old-fashioned honky-tonk. These songs reconnect me to the teenager I was, but they are helping me shape and discover the woman I am now.
We’re halfway through April (how?) and the job hunt slog continues, while the neighborhood is starting to bloom. Here’s what I have been reading:
All Creatures Great and Small, James Herriot I read these books as a teenager (my dad loves them), but the charming new TV series inspired me to pick Herriot’s memoirs back up. I adored his dry wit and vivid descriptions of the Yorkshire Dales and their people, and I loved re-meeting characters from the TV show, like Tristan and Mrs. Pumphrey. Warm and comforting.
Flygirl, Sherri L. Smith Ida Mae Jones longs to be a pilot like her daddy, but as a Black woman, she knows it’s a long shot. But when her brother gets sent to serve as a medic in the Philippines, Ida Mae decides to join the WASP. The catch? She’ll have to pass for white–a choice not only heartbreaking, but dangerous. I loved this YA novel with a brave heroine who’s determined to fly and struggles to find her place. Recommended by Anne (as part of a great list).
Marathon Woman: Running the Race to Revolutionize Women’s Sports, Kathrine Switzer Switzer made history in 1967 with her Boston Marathon run–but that was only the beginning of her journey in racing, sports reporting and organizing for women’s sports. Her memoir is engaging, relatable, often funny and inspiring. I especially loved reading about the history of modern marathons like Boston and New York, and watching Switzer’s confidence grow.
The Cake Therapist, Judith Fertig Claire “Neely” O’Neil opens a cake shop in her Ohio hometown after leaving her cheating football-star husband. But she’s dealing with not just the usual new-business-owner snags, but a mystery involving an antique ring and several local families. Both the plot and the characters were so-so. Delicious food descriptions, though.
Home Made: A Story of Grief, Groceries, Showing Up–and What We Make When We Make Dinner, Liz Hauck Hauck and her dad had planned to start a cooking program for teens in a group home run by the agency he worked for. After his death at age 57, she decided to do it without him. This memoir chronicles her three years of cooking with and for a rotating cast of teenage boys dealing with all kinds of trauma and challenges. It’s vivid, moving and often funny. To review for Shelf Awareness (out June 8).
The Secret Keeper of Jaipur, Alka Joshi This sequel to Joshi’s The Henna Artist picks up with her main characters, Lakshmi (the artist) and Malik (her young protege), eight years later. Malik is apprenticing at a prestigious construction firm in Jaipur while Lakshmi runs a healing garden in Shimla. When the firm’s shiny new cinema suffers a collapse on opening night, Malik smells a rat and begins to investigate, digging up old and new secrets. Joshi’s storytelling is engaging, but I didn’t like this book as well as its predecessor. To review for Shelf Awareness (out June 22).
cakes, tea and dreams 