21/52 :: go set a watchman.

Last night, I sat down and read Go Set a Watchman. 

The build up to Harper Lee's new book, as you know, has been enormous. The beloved author had notoriously told interviewers she'd never publish again, and yet, here she is, at 89 years of age, publishing a first draft of the book that came before Mockingbird, a book she has described as the "parent" to the American classic. 

I commented on my Instagram last week how interesting I thought the release day for Go Set a Watchman would be: the publication itself rife with controversy, plus the New York Times book review informing all of us that Atticus -- our dear, beloved Atticus -- had, in his old age, become a racial bigot. It all seemed a bit too much to ask of readers, particularly Southern ones to whom the book has meant so much. No one likes their heroes knocked off their pedestals, after all.  

But The Bookshelf sold 40 copies of Go Set a Watchman the first day, and readers still seemed eager or, at the very least, intrigued. All week long, customers asked me if I'd read it, if I intended to read it, and the truth is, I was hesitant. Atticus, Scout, and Jem are as dear to me as family, and -- if I weren't currently a bookstore owner -- I may have put this one off a bit, waited for the hype and the controversy to die down. 

I am, however, a bookseller. And reading the book is my job. So after a hectic week filled with Harper Lee-inspired events and extroverted days, I curled up in my grandpa's big blue arm chair, and I read the entire thing in three hours flat. 

A full discussion of the book would requite spoilers, some of which I've included below, but for those of you who desire to remain spoiler free, here is my brief review: Read this book. It is as flawed as you've imagined, but it is important, particularly if you -- like me -- are a Southern reader. (Though even if you're not, I suspect it has the power to resonate just the same.) 

Before last week's New York Times review, my biggest concern was Lee's writing wouldn't be up to par with her previous work; I was afraid all of those Truman Capote rumors might be fueled further. I hesitated to associate this new book with the mind of a literary genius. 

I had nothing to fear. 

The voice of Go Set a Watchman is so clearly Harper Lee's. I sat in that big blue recliner for three hours laughing, then crying over its goodness. It's not perfect, mind you -- in some places, the novel rambles, falls flat. It's a draft, and readers seeking perfection won't find it here. Instead, I suspect, like me, you'll find brilliance in its place. The book is quintessentially Southern, filled with details only a born-and-raised Southerner would know. The dialect is pure, the church scenes a complete delight. Written over 50 years ago, the book is also miraculously timely, as if Lee knew we might need a book for such a time as this.

And Scout? She's all I hoped she would be. Sure, she's now called Jean Louise, but every woman knows the girl inside never really dies, and Scout shines through at all the right moments. She is witty and cutting, and her struggle to come home feels so real and true. I'm not sure how anyone could read it and not feel some familiarity with how Scout grapples with adulthood, how she stumbles in her quest to return home. 

There is Atticus, too, and it's true: His words disappoint. But they're also incredibly realistic, and Jean Louise feels as betrayed as we all do, and the book serves as a powerful reminder that humans -- fictional or not -- aren't meant for the pedestals we put them on. The scenes between Scout and Atticus are some of the finest, truest parts of the novel, and if you're like me, you'll turn the final page, the Atticus you know and love still intact, but more nuanced than before. 

Atticus, a racist? Yes, in part. A flawed human being? In full. It's genius, because it's true. 

Go Set a Watchman felt more familiar to me than Mockingbird; Harper Lee was right -- of course -- to call it the parent to her beloved work. That's exactly, exactly, what it feels like. Scout's grown-up, and we are, too. We needed this book. I'd like to think she knew we did. 

A few spoiler-filled observations are below; please don't read these unless you've read the book first (or don't intend to read it at all!). I truly believe you'll enjoy Go Set a Watchman more if you read it with an open mind. The more information you have, the less you'll be surprised by the novel's flawed beauty. 

• If online articles and news reports are to be believed, an editor read this draft of Go Set a Watchman and told Harper Lee her flashbacks to Jean Louise's childhood were the best parts. "Make novel out of those," we're told she said. If those rumors or reports are true, I'd certainly understand why. Some of the best parts of Go Set a Watchman are still those with Jem, Scout, and Dill; they're hidden gems in the novel, and the editor is almost as genius as Harper Lee for mining them and turning them to gold. 
• The novel's weakest parts are some rambling dialog and Jean Louise's love interest, Hank, who -- in my opinion -- simply isn't interesting enough for independent, complicated Scout. 
• Atticus's racially-tinged dialogue doesn't appear until the back-half of the novel, and although it's incredibly important both for our current history and for a full understanding of his character, some of the novel's best parts are well before we learn about Atticus' failings. There's an entire chapter devoted to Jean Louise's return to her Methodist church that had me laughing out loud. 
• Jem only appears in flashbacks -- the first chapter tells us he "dropped dead in his tracks" at the age of 30 -- and while this realization is heartbreaking, it fits his character, somehow. I was saddened by it, but for some reason, not surprised. 
• Yes, Atticus is a racist -- or at least has some racist tendencies -- but his words are both nuanced and familiar if you've been raised in the South. He and Scout discuss politics -- they're both conservative states rightists -- and we see a difference between two generations that feels eerily modern. Perhaps surprisingly, Atticus hasn't been ruined for me. He is still a hero of literature, the quintessential gentleman, but now he is flawed, and I think, somehow, that makes him better (or, at the very least, more real). If you're a Southerner, this book is perhaps more for you than it is for anyone else. It may make you uncomfortable, but sometimes that's the best way to learn. 

reading recap: june 2015.

A Prayer Journal by Flannery O'Connor. This gift-style book came out a couple of years ago, and I received a copy for Christmas, but never quite got around to reading it. A Prayer Journal is exactly what it sounds like; the book is a compilation of Flannery's written prayers from her 20s. If you're a person of faith -- or just a fan of Flannery's -- you'll know what a large role her Catholicism played in her life and in her writing, and these prayers show just how early she began thinking about incorporating her beliefs into her stories. There are also profound truths about ambition and Christianity throughout the book's pages; it's a short read, but it's meaningful, and would especially make a great graduation gift, especially for an English or creative writing major.  

The Rocks by Peter Nichols. So good, you guys. The Rocks debuted this summer, and it's an incredibly well-done epic, summer-time book. You won't fly through this one in just a few hours; instead, I imagine you'll take at least a few days to savor it and enjoy the nuanced twists and turns. The book begins by introducing us to an older couple as they're arguing; they've got a history, but the reader doesn't know what it is yet. Within the first two or three pages, the couple dies in a tragic accident (no spoilers! it's all in the premise), and we're left to wonder why and what led up to such a tense moment. The book travels backwards in time from there, and it's beautifully-written and set almost entirely in Mallorca, Spain -- the same setting as Emma Straub's The Vacationers. (The two would make great companion novels; snag both for your next trip.) For fans of Jess Walter's Beautiful Ruins. 

Me & Earl & The Dying Girl by Jesse Andrews. I read this one on both a customer's and a sales rep's recommendation, and although I'm glad I read it (I want to see the movie adaptation later this summer), it was a tough one for me to get through. The book is written poorly intentionally; the narrator admits as much in the opening pages, and although I appreciate what the writer is trying to create -- a realistic teenage protagonist -- it made it somewhat difficult to endure as a reader. I did appreciate how different this book was from The Fault in Our Stars (which it's of course being compared to), and it was nice to read a YA book that didn't entirely revolved around romance of some kind. Read it if you want to see the movie so you can compare. 

Station Eleven by Emily St. John Mandel. Favorite book of the year, hands down. The "post-apocalyptic" description really prevented me from trying Station Eleven; don't make the same mistake I did and continue putting it off any longer. The book is beautifully written and perfectly paced; I cannot stop raving about this one enough. The novel was up for the National Book Award last year, and now I see why. Station Eleven takes place in the years following a fatal plague that wipes out most of the world's population. What's left is a dying landscape intent on survival, and Mandel does an incredible job of creating a cast of characters we want to see succeed. This book isn't dark or fatalistic; instead, it's so hopeful -- a reminder of what our world gets right. If you've had this one on your list, please go ahead and snag it in paperback. You'll be glad you did.

The Royal We by Heather Cocks and Jessica Morgan. Okay, everyone has raved about this book, and I agree: It's cute and fun and definitely satisfies any royal obsession you might have since it's pretty much a fictional take on the William and Kate love story. Unfortunately, I read it right after Station Eleven, which was a complete error in judgment. I thought it would be fun to have something light after the depth of that novel, but instead, The Royal We left me wanting just a bit. I'm recommending it to customers who want something fluffy to read this summer; I thought the writing was decent and the characters likable (what's not to like about a fictional Prince William and Kate Middleton?), and there were portions of the novel that were downright touching. I think my only mistake was pairing this one with a National Book Award finalist -- it was like a good wine served with the wrong cheese. Make sure you tackle this one with other summer-y fare.

Modern Romance by Aziz Ansari. I was completely impressed by this book. Even if you're a married person who's been out of the dating scene for a while (or, if you're like me, approximately forever), you'll be fascinated by Aziz Ansari's take on dating in a technological age. Modern Romance is NOT Aziz Ansari's personal story; this isn't a comedic memoir a la Tina Fey or Mindy Kaling. Instead, Ansari got together with a sociologist, and the two have tackled the subject of modern relationships in an intellectual but relatable way (there are charts and graphs, folks). I thought Ansari was a genius for crowd-sourcing stories and anecdotes from the audiences at his comedy shows; those stories add a lot to the already-interesting research. Book clubs would be wise to try this one; the conversations would be as valuable as the book itself, I'm sure.

Eight Hundred Grapes by Laura Dave. I picked this one off the shelf based entirely on the cover design. It's a beautiful book, and I had high hopes; the premise sounds like lots of other novels I love: Dysfunctional family, small business, a little bit of romance, etc. The book opens as a young woman arrives at her brother's bar in her wedding dress a week before the actual wedding. Her dad is in the middle of harvest at their winery, and her mom is in the middle of an affair. Eight Hundred Grapes starts strong, but so many events happen to these characters that I got a little lost -- one customer compared it to a soap opera, and I guess that's the overall vibe I got, too. The bits about the family-owned winery were really interesting, so if you're taking a trip to wine country, this would be a fun guide. Otherwise, maybe check this one out from the library, or buy it to sit pretty on your shelf, because it's gorgeous, even if a little bit wanting. 

Althea and Oliver by Cristina Moracho.  This was my second YA novel of the month, and although it definitely held my attention, the defining moment in the book -- the climactic moment -- was so odd and controversial -- in my mind -- it was all I could focus on for the remaining pages, which is a shame, because the moment comes about halfway through the novel. I was grateful to be reading this one with a book club, because by the end, I only wanted to know their opinions on that one moment. The book is typical YA, but the setting is the mid-90s, which adds a different feel thanks to lots of music references and fashion depictions. (Think Eleanor & Park.) Althea and Oliver have been friends since childhood, but now they're almost seniors, and things are beginning to change and are becoming a little odd, in part due to Oliver's undiagnosed illness, which leaves him asleep for weeks at a time, a gender-reversed Sleeping Beauty (in more ways than one, you'll see as you read the book in its entirety. 

Second Life by S.J. Watson. My book club read Before I Go to Sleep years ago, and I liked it, as I recall. The book was a perfectly good suspense, and I expected the same from S.J. Watson's newest book, Second Life. When Julia discovers her sister has been murdered, she immediately goes into undercover detective mode, which gets more and more dangerous as she enters her sister's online world, including websites designed specifically for brief sexual connections and encounters. The story is pretty predictable, and it was all a little too sexual for me -- I only finished out of a stubborn desire to know the end. This is another book I'm anxious to hear your opinions about (but I'd read Before I Go to Sleep instead).

reading recap: may 2015.

I Was Told There’d Be Cake by Sloane Crosley. If there is a book full of humorous short stories and essays, I’ve read it (or it’s on my TBR list somewhere). So when Sloane Crosley’s I Was Told There’d Be Cake kept making its way around my social media feeds, I was on board. The title alone was enough for me. Unfortunately, I didn’t love this book as much as I wanted to, but never fear: It could be right for you. Crosely is a sarcastic storyteller, and if you’re looking for a Seinfeld-esque escape from reality, go ahead and put it on your list. Each essay stands alone, so you could easily pick and choose your favorites. I’d start with “You on a Stick,” Crosley’s hilarious maid of honor-inspired tale.  

Dead Wake by Erik Larson. There are a few authors I wish were required reading in schools: David McCullough, Steven Levitt, Jon Krakauer, Laura Hillenbrand. These authors make nonfiction, historical stories come to life, and students deserve to know just how interesting history and “real life” can be. Erik Larson gets a spot at the top of my list. I loved Devil in the White City – as an educator, you could do so much with the content of that book – and In the Garden of Beasts remains a Bookshelf customer favorite. His new book, Dead Wake, is about the sinking of the Lusitania, and the story sucks you in from the very beginning. Like most historical nonfiction, this isn’t a book you fly through, but it is a page-turner; despite already knowing the outcome, readers will want to discover every detail and story they can, and Larson obliges. 

How to Start a Fire by Lisa Lutz. Let’s hear it for the intelligent beach read, shall we? I like the occasional bit of “chick lit” (despite the horrendous moniker), but what I really like is just well done, clever, female-centric fiction. How to Start a Fire fits the bill. Sure, Lisa Lutz’s new novel is your next beach bag book, but it’s also chock-full of witty dialog, realistic portrayals of friendship, and heartbreaking romance. Anna serves as the ringleader for Kate and George, but Kate’s story is the one I found most compelling. The book follows the friendship of these three women from college well into adulthood, and you’ll be more than happy to tag along for the ride. I already mailed my copy to my friends for our traveling book club; I think they’ll all love it as much as I did. 

Me, My Hair, and I edited by Elizabeth Benedict. This book was fascinating. It was also one of my advanced reader copies last month, so you won’t see this one on our shelves until September. Me, My Hair, and I features the essays of 27 different women, each writing about their hair. And although the premise might sound dull or even a little odd, the essays each tackle other subjects, too, like race and feminism and culture and religion. The book would be the perfect selection for a book club, guaranteed to elicit conversation and the divulging of your own personal hair stories. (The fact that it’s releasing as a paperback original only sweetens the deal.)

Lessons in Belonging by Erin S. Lane. I reviewed Rachel Held Evans’ book Searching for Sunday back in April, and Erin Lane’s Lessons in Belonging serves as the perfect accompaniment. Lane is a pastor’s wife, but she’s also a divinity school graduate herself, and her views on church are refreshing; she doesn’t advocate abandoning the cause, but instead encourages readers to find – and sometimes fight for – their place there. I found myself nodding along in agreement chapter after chapter, and I took notes for future reference. Millennial Christians will be thrilled to find a voice that does them justice, and older generations will appreciate Lane’s perspective as well. (I think I might make my parents read this one next.) 

Save the Date by Jen Doll. Remember what I said about humorous essays? I’m a sucker for them. Save the Date has an eye-catching cover, and I was headed to the beach for a few days, so I grabbed a copy off our shelves. It’s funny and honest, filled with story after story about the weddings author Jen Doll has attended: destination weddings, her best friend’s wedding, hometown weddings, elopements, and more. Brides, here’s an idea: Gift a copy to each member of your wedding party. They’ll thank you later. 

Ella Minnow Pea by Mark Dunn. This was my book club’s pick for the month of May, and although it wasn’t the title I had originally voted for, I wound up loving it, and our group had a blast discussing it. The premise is unique, so bear with me: Ella Minnow Pea lives on the fictional island of Nollop, off the coast of South Carolina; the little island was named for Nevin Nollop, author of “The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog” (a sentence which incorporates every letter of the alphabet). But when letters start to fall off a memorial to Nollop, their usage is banned from the island, and the whole place runs amok. (Letters, too, begin to disappear from the novel itself, which is entirely entertaining and imaginative and lovely.) Ella Minnow Pea will have your book club debating religion and politics and free speech, but in the best possible ways. Read it, please. I think it’s important. 

This Is Your Life, Harriet Chance! by Jonathan Evison. Fans of Where’d You Go, Bernadette?, rejoice. Here’s a new book for you. Unfortunately, it doesn’t come out until September, but never fear: It will be worth the wait. This Is Your Life, Harriet Chance! offers a rare literary look at life from an elderly woman’s perspective; our protagonist Harriet is still reeling a bit from the death of her husband, but she’s not ready to go anywhere herself just yet. She’s got a lot of life left to live, so she jumps on board a cruise ship, only to discover her life might not be what she thought it was after all. This book is funny and memorable and sad and quirky and a little reminiscent of Stranger Than Fiction, one of my favorite movies of all time. Basically, mark your calendars for September. I loved this one. 

You Deserve a Drink by Mamrie Hart. Warning: I almost peed my pants from laughing while reading this book, but it’s also rather… foul? I often read excerpts of books aloud to Jordan, and I frequently had to self-censor several of these stories, so you’ve been warned. Mamrie Hart is most known for her YouTube show, “You Deserve a Drink,” but I’m not into cocktails or YouTube, so this title made it onto my desk based on a sales rep’s recommendation. Mamrie starts each chapter with a cocktail recipe, then follows with a story along the cocktail’s theme. The set-up is fantastic, and foul language and TMI aside, it’s hilariously funny. It’s not going to be one I’ll recommend to all of our customers, but I could see it being a fun gift for a college girlfriend or roommate. 

The Vacationers by Emma Straub. I don’t know why I’d never read this book. The Vacationers has a beautiful cover, and it was popular when it debuted last summer, but I just never got around to reading it. While on our own vacation to D.C., I picked up a hardback copy off the sale rack at Politics and Prose, and I’m so glad I did. (The book released in paperback this month, so you’re in luck, too.) Emma Straub weaves a beautiful story about a family vacationing off the coast of Mallorca in Spain; each character is seriously and realistically flawed, but you’ll find yourself rooting for them over and over again. I’m most impressed with Straub’s ability to magically tell the stories from multiple perspectives without ever feeling forced or distracting. This is a wonderful book, perfect for summertime reading.

reading recap: april 2015.

April became one of the busiest months at The Bookshelf – so many events, so little time. I did manage to fit in eight books this month, six fiction (including one boasting over 700 pages!) and two non-fiction. A couple would make great book club picks, some you’ve probably heard about already, and at least one deserves to be picked up today. 

 

A Little Life by Hanya Yanagihara. Bookseller confession: I never read The Goldfinch. So many customers felt ambivalent about last year’s Pulitzer Prize winner; I decided to forgo it for another book by the same author (The Secret History, which I really enjoyed). The page count of The Goldfinch also made it daunting, which is why my first book selection for this month comes as a surprise, even to me. A Little Life is just over 700 pages long, but it kept coming across my social media wanderings – NPR reviews, blog posts, podcasts, etc. – so I decided to give it a try. I’m so glad I did. The book covers the friendships of four men, following them from their late college years into their mid-40s. And although the book is a testament to male friendship, it’s also about heartbreak and trauma and tragedy and abuse and neglect. A Little Life is heavy, but important, and if you’ve got the stomach for it, I can’t recommend it enough. Grab me in the store next time you see me, and I’ll tell you if it’s right for you. 

Emma by Alexander McCall Smith. I can’t believe I had never heard of The Austen Project, so allow me to enlighten you, as well. The new series of six novels pairs bestselling authors with Jane Austen’s six complete works. Sense and Sensibility and Northanger Abbey were released last year, and now, bestselling author Alexander McCall Smith has thrown his hat into the ring with his modern-day version of Emma. I’m not exactly an Austen purist – I won’t touch anything that combines Austen with zombies, but I have watched (and loved) both The Lizzie Bennet Diaries and Emma Approved – so this rendition didn’t bother me in the least. I found it utterly enjoyable, and I would imagine most of you would, too. Emma has never been my favorite heroine, but Smith handles her with grace and does her justice. Pack it in your beach bag. 

Searching for Sunday by Rachel Held Evans. Those of you who travel in evangelical circles or stay up-to-date on Christian writers and debates will probably have heard of Rachel Held Evans. I’ve been reading her blog for years, and I think Searching for Sunday is her best book thus far. The book offers a personal look at Evans’ struggles with church and faith, but her stories have universal appeal. (I found much of myself in the pages of Searching for Sunday.) I devoured the book one afternoon on my porch swing; it felt so good to hear someone give voice to my own concerns. The book is smartly divided into chapters based on the sacraments, and my favorite truths were found in the chapter reflecting on baptism. 

A Window Opens by Elisabeth Egan. This was my advanced reader copy of the month, so you won’t find A Window Opens on our store shelves yet. However, if you’re like me, and keep a list of what to read next, go ahead and write this one down. The book is a debut novel by magazine writer Elizabeth Egan. The book is light in parts, but it's heartfelt and funny, too; rarely have I found a book that makes me laugh, cry, and cringe all within the same few pages. It's Big Little Lies meets Where’d You Go Bernadette, with a little of Dave Eggers' The Circle thrown in the mix. If any or all of those books appealed to you, this one will be worth reading. The book releases in August, and I’ll be recommending fellow readers and book clubs to close out their summers with this one. (I already mailed my copy out to a friend.) 

Astonish Me by Maggie Shipstead. Do you ever discover a book you’ve been meaning to read for ages hiding on your shelf? The hardback of Maggie Shipstead’s Astonish Me has been on my nightstand for months – the book is now out in paperback – and for some reason, I just never could pull the trigger. I’d read Shipstead’s first novel, Seating Arrangements, when it debuted, and I enjoyed it, so there’s no reason I shouldn’t have read Astonish Me by now. I think the book’s subject matter – ballet – deterred me, but what a mistake! Astonish Me is even better than Seating Arrangements, with a clever plot that propels forward at the perfect pace. It received rave reviews when it released last year, and now I know why. This was one of my favorite books of the month. 

Where They Found Her by Kimberly McCreight. A few years ago, I read Kimberly McCreigh’s Reconstructing Amelia in the span of a few hours. I still recommend it to readers looking for a good suspense novel. Her latest doesn’t, in my opinion, pack quite the punch of her first, but I think I may be coming off a Girl on the Train-inspired high. Like Girl on the Train, Where They Found Her is narrated by a variety of different women; the narration just isn’t as effective or as chilling as Girl on the Train, but McCreigh’s novel is still one you’ll want to move through in just a few sittings. Snag a copy at the library, or buy a copy for a suspense-loving friend. 

So You’ve Been Publicly Shamed by Jon Ronson. The cover on this one is fantastic, but Jon Ronson’s So You’ve Been Publicly Shamed is even more fascinating once you’ve begun to turn the pages. Ronson – who you’ll recognize from his previous book The Psychopath Test, plus dozens of NPR stories – covers shaming and public humiliation in the modern world; how we’ve moved from stakes and stocks to deriding and punishing people through social media. I recognized many of the subjects and was already familiar with several of their stories: Mike Daisey, Justine Sacco, Jonah Lehrer. These are semi-public figures whose missteps cost them their careers and livelihoods after the public called out their faults on Twitter and Facebook. Ronson brings to light what a strange, technology-driven world we’re living in, and although he isn’t always my favorite narrator, his book is utterly entertaining and interesting. So You’ve Been Publicly Shamed would be great for book clubs, and I suspect you’ll start hearing more and more about it after a feature in the New York Times. Well worth a read. 

Man at the Helm by Nina Stibbe. Man at the Helm was the loveliest book I've read in quite some time. The book is quintessentially British, reminiscent of I Capture the Castle and The Railway Children; cleverly narrated by nine-year-old Lizzie Vogel, it tells the tale of Lizzie and her sister and brother as they cope with their parents' divorce. Left without a "man at the helm," Lizzie and her older sister try to find their mother a suitable replacement. Funny and sweet, Man at the Helm was just the book I needed to end out a stressful month. Highly, highly recommend. (For fans, I think, of The Rosie Project or Mary Poppins.)

reading recap: march 2015.

We’re almost a quarter of the way through 2015, and I’ve got to say: I have read some absolutely excellent books this year. I don’t know if I’m choosing what I read more carefully and purposefully, or if 2015 has just been a great year for books, but this month, I’ve got seven more worthy recommendations for your nightstands. 

Ghettoside by Jill Leovy. I started Ghettoside in February, but finished it early March. The book, written by award-winning journalist Jill Leovy, is a New York Times bestseller, and it takes a while to get through, but not due to any flaw on Leovy’s part. The subject matter, frankly, is heavy; Ghettoside covers the urban crime epidemic in Los Angeles County, where nearly every day, someone is killed in an act of violence. Instead of offering up statistic after statistic, Leovy gives faces to the names of the victims and their families, and her look at urban violence reminds readers “black lives matter.” Michael Connelly is quoted on the front of Ghettoside, saying, “Everyone needs to read this book.” I think so, too. 

Single, Carefree, Mellow by Katherine Heiny. This collection of short stories was the perfect follow-up to Ghettoside. Short stories can often be hit or miss for me, but I loved this book. It’s ideal for spring and summertime beach reading, but it’s intelligent and funny and sad. The stories aren’t uplifting – they’re often raw looks at love and marriage and infidelity and growing-up – but if you’re like me, you’ll find them compulsively readable. For fans, I think, of Lena Dunham and Mindy Kaling. 

Everybody Rise by Stephanie Clifford. And this is where you’re going to be upset with me. Everybody Rise might be one of my favorite books I’ve read this year, but – bookseller perk! – it doesn’t actually release until August. Go ahead and put it on your list for later this summer, though, because this debut novel will be worth the wait. Everybody Rise takes place in New York in 2006, a few years before the crash, and 26-year-old Evelyn Beegan is struggling to find her way in the world of the Manhattan elite, where she’s convinced she belongs. The book tracks Evelyn’s rise (and of course, the inevitable fall); I became so enmeshed in her story, I found myself trying to talk Evelyn in and out of her various decisions. So, so good. 

In a Dark Wood by Joseph Luzzi. I traveled to Italy the summer after my freshman year in college, and one of the requirements of my mini-semester in Florence was to read Dante’s The Divine Comedy. (We also memorized the first several stanzas in Italian, and if I think really hard, I can still quote the first few lines.) In a Dark Wood is inspired by Dante, but the story is an original one: Author and Italian professor Joseph Luzzi lost his pregnant wife in a horrific car accident, but not before she gave birth to their first child. He spent the next few years coping with her loss, and he turned to Dante for comfort. Surprisingly, my favorite parts of the memoir weren’t the details of Luzzi’s personal life; instead, I found the history of Dante and The Divine Comedy a bit more compelling, perhaps because of my own history with the story. If you’re a fan of Dante at all, I think you’ll enjoy parts of this new book particularly well. (In a Dark Wood releases in May.) 

I’ll Give You the Sun by Jandy Nelson. Customers and critics both have raved about this YA novel, so I thought I’d give it a try for my YA book of the month. I’ll Give You the Sun is reminiscent of other young adult books by Rainbow Rowell, John Green, or even E. Lockhart; Nelson tells the fictional story of two twins, once inseparable, but now, three years after the novel’s beginning, barely speaking to one another. The story is compelling, and the book’s pacing was on point – I never wanted to put it down. My small beef with the book was its perhaps unrealistic portrayal of teen sexuality, but that might be because I'm a bit of a prude? Maybe read it for yourself and let me know what you think. 

Dietland by Sarai Walker. The author herself compares Dietland to a sort-of “Fight Club for feminists,” and that’s a pretty spot-on description. Dietland releases in May, and I guarantee it’s going to make headlines. The book is snarky and explicit and dark and hilarious and weird, and at the end of it, I wanted to know what other people thought – an indication of future book club success, I’m sure. Protagonist Plum Kettle (yes, really) is trying to remain invisible until her upcoming weight-loss surgery, which she thinks will turn her world upside down and allow her to live the life she’s imagined for herself. Unfortunately for Plum, the world instead begins to turn upside down when “Jennifer,” a guerrilla feminist group, starts highlighting the mistreatment of women, and Plum has to make big decisions about what she believes about herself and women in general. If feminist manifestos are your thing, put this one on your list. 

Better Than Before by Gretchen Rubin. If you talk to me in the next few weeks, we probably won’t be able to make it through a conversation before I start referencing Gretchen Rubin’s Better Than Before. Here’s the thing: I love Gretchen Rubin. She’s one of my spirit animals. The Happiness Project? Genius. Her new book about habits? Even better. This is the kind of nonfiction I love. For a girl obsessed with personality types and self-improvement, Better Than Before is gold. In it, Gretchen identifies the four tendencies of habit makers, and she spends the rest of the book identifying how habit forming has to be adjusted to our individual tendencies. It’s incredibly eye-opening and potentially life-changing, and I can’t wait for everyone to be talking about it with me. Stay tuned for a Bookshelf podcast episode devoted entirely to Better Than Before.

Hey Natalie Jean by Natalie Holbrook. Last Friday, the store was slow, and I thought I'd just read this one in between customers. Blogger-turned-author and all that jazz. Instead, I found myself mesmerized, and I finished the whole thing. Look: I like Natalie. I've read her blog for a long time, but since I don't read very many blogs regularly anymore, I couldn't tell you if the material was re-hashed from her blog or not. But really? Who cares? Unlike a lot of bloggers, Natalie can actually write. Her essay on her grandmother and Alzheimer's had me in tears. I thought the chapters on style and fashion were just fine, but the essays were well done and compelling. I said it on Instagram, and I'll repeat it here: This one's going to the top of my "baby shower/Mother's Day gifts that aren't lame" list. 

reading recap: february 2015.

February is my favorite of all the months, and it’s not because of Valentine’s Day or President’s Day or the cold, gloomy weather or the hope of spring. It’s because of my birthday, which I happily and obnoxiously celebrate all month long. And since I take my birthday so seriously, I spent the entirety of February reading books I wanted to read, not books I felt obligated to read because of the store. Last month, all of the books I read were easy for me, smack-dab in the middle of my comfort zone. I’m okay with this, though the rest of the year I’ll be attempting to stick to my reading resolutions: diverse authors and more non-fiction titles. 

The Smartest Kids in the World by Amanda Ripley. This non-fiction book is a must-read for educators and parents; I’m neither, and I found The Smartest Kids in the World utterly fascinating. Journalist Amanda Ripley tackles the tough subject of American education by sending American kids to the three countries where students are supposedly smartest: Poland, Finland, and South Korea. What the students find there – and how it changes them and influences Ripley’s book – is eye-opening, and it has the power to change our own educational models if we so choose. The Smartest Kids in the World could easily be inaccessible, but instead, Ripley keeps the style informative and conversational; the book reads like a well-done documentary. 

Bon Appétempt by Amelia Morris. Amelia Morris’s memoir was my pick for the February meeting of my new book club. (Hooray for bravely starting new things!) I’m a huge fan of food memoirs and food writing – The Sweet Life in Paris, Bread and Wine, Delancey – but Morris’s book fell a little flat for me. I’ll blame my less-than-stellar review on the fact that I had never read her blog of the same name. Fans of her blog will surely love her book, but the rest of us may feel a little lost. Bon Appétempt covers Morris’s growing-up years with a rather wicked stepmother, then delves into her time as a blogger devoted to attempting magazine-style recipes with not-always-magazine-worthy results. Parts of the books are funny and sweet; Morris is best when she’s writing about her husband and their relationship, and a book devoted entirely to that subject might have been better received (by me, anyway). 

In Every Way by Nic Brown. I loved Nic Brown’s novel In Every Way, both because of his rich characters and his colorful depictions of North and South Carolina. The book follows 19-year-old Maria, unexpectedly pregnant with a mother dying of cancer. It’s not exactly a happy beginning, and although the book takes a turn for the better when Maria and her mother move to the sleepy, coastal town of Beaufort, conflict quickly ensues; I wondered if Maria would ever get a happy ending. In Every Way is a well-written page-turner, a quiet book with a heart for redemption. 

Unbecoming by Rebecca Scherm. This book might have been my favorite of the month. Unbecoming combines Bonnie and Clyde with The Art Forger; it’s an ambitious debut novel filled with suspense, mystery, and a little bit of romance. Author Rebecca Scherm navigates a variety of worlds: small town Garland, Tennessee; the bustling New York City art scene; and the tiny confines of a Parisian apartment. Every day, Grace quietly repairs antiques and re-sets gems, but in Paris, she calls herself Julie, and she spends her free time anxiously trolling the Internet, checking her hometown newspaper for details of a heist gone bad. You’re going to want to read this one. 

Funny Girl by Nick Hornby. I am a Nick Hornby fan; not everyone is, and that’s okay. But if you like Nick Hornby and his quirky British comedies of characters, you’ll enjoy his latest novel, Funny Girl. I actually think it’s one of his smartest books; the novel is less concerned with romance and features a more interesting criticism of television and television writing. If you’re a fan of TV or pop culture, you’ll find Funny Girl to be especially eye-opening. Set in 1960s London – but crossing a period of several years and, ultimately, decades – the book “stars” aspiring comedic actress Sophie Straw (the “funny girl” of the book’s title) and her journey to the top, but it’s the ensemble cast who really make the story something special. This was another favorite for February. 

How to Be a Heroine by Samantha Ellis. Classics readers – particularly female classics readers – will enjoy Samantha Ellis’s thoughtful look back at the heroines who shaped her childhood. She revisits all the ladies I’ve loved (and some I haven’t): Anne Shirley, Jo March, Elizabeth Bennet, Scarlett O’Hara. And although her book is a little bit of a love letter to those characters, it’s always a fine piece of literary criticism. Her feminist worldview offers a much-needed perspective on the women of classic literature; some hold up to the scrutiny; others, not so much. I didn’t always agree with Ellis, but her book made me think, and it was funny and clever, a perfect testament to the heroines she loves.

reading recap: january 2015.

What a lovely month for getting back into my reading groove! January was full of excellent stories and up-all-night page-turning, and my reading choices covered a variety of genres. One of my new year's reading resolutions was to read more diversely, and by thoughtfully planning out my book queue for the month, I believe I accomplished that. Here's what was on my nightstand in January: 

All the Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr. This historical fiction novel -- a finalist for the National Book Award -- earned much-deserved praise at the end of 2014, but I delayed my own reading of the novel. It seemed like the kind of book you'd need to get lost in, and I was right. For the first two weeks of last month, I was completely mesmerized by Anthony Doerr's poetic, character-driven novel set in 1940s France. I couldn't put the book down, and yet each night, I made myself set it aside. This was a book meant to be read slowly; I chewed instead of devoured, and I'm so glad I did. I haven't read a lot of historical fiction since high school -- it's not a genre I'm often drawn to -- but this one really captured the intensity and sadness of a time in our world's history, while also telling a beautiful, bittersweet story. It's a book less about war and more about the people affected by it, and it needs to be on your nightstand, immediately. 

Everything I Never Told You by Celeste Ng. The publisher's description of this new novel reads a bit like a suspense-filled thriller, but instead it's a sad, thought-provoking look at how one mixed-race family deals with immense tragedy: the loss of their child and sibling. Author Celeste Ng will have you hooked from the first sentence, and if you're like me, you'll follow along, mesmerized by her depiction of grief and overwhelmed by its consequences. Everything I Never Told You was a local book club pick last month, and their discussion was proof of the novel's power; if you're looking for your own book club selection, add this one to your list. 

Scary Close by Donald Miller. I have been a Donald Miller fan for years; I read Blue Like Jazz in college, and A Million Miles in a Thousand Years gave me the push I needed to quit my corporate job and eventually own The Bookshelf. His new book, Scary Close, released this week (happy birthday to me!), and I can't recommend it enough, particularly for readers of Brene Brown's Daring Greatly or Henry Cloud's Boundaries. The book -- told in his characteristically conversational style -- covers Miller's own struggles with vulnerability and insecurity; I found myself frequently highlighting and underlining passages before reading segments aloud to Jordan. In fact, Scary Close would be a good book for spouses to read together (co-reading is good for you; haven't you heard?), and it's got great discussion potential for church small groups or business leadership workshops. 

All the Bright Places by Jennifer Niven. All the Bright Places was my young adult book of the month; its realistic prose is popular right now -- thank you, John Green, for saving us from the vampires -- but novelist Jennifer Niven takes things even deeper by tackling some tough issues with her new novel. All the Bright Places addresses bipolar disorder and manic depression, suicide and grief, but Niven handles the content deftly, and I never found myself bogged down by sadness. Instead, I read with my eyes opened to the challenges facing those with depression; my own dear friend in high school struggled with undiagnosed bipolar disorder, and Niven's book -- more than any other I've read, I think -- brought his struggles to life for me. Because of its content, I would recommend this one for older high school students, but don't be alarmed: Niven weaves in some truly beautiful, funny moments, too. (After all, life -- especially life in high school -- is a mix of every emotion under the sun. All the Bright Places covers all of these well.) 

Brown Girl Dreaming by Jacqueline Woodson. While I'd recommend All the Bright Places to a primarily YA audience, Brown Girl Dreaming -- a middle reader book and National Book Award winner -- should be required reading for all of us, old and young alike. In Brown Girl Dreaming, Jacqueline Woodson tells the story of her childhood entirely in free verse; the story is made even more powerful through this unique telling, and in the book's pages, children and adults are introduced to worlds familiar and unfamiliar. Here's what I mean: I'm younger -- and whiter -- than Woodson, so many of her stories I needed to hear, but they weren't stories we necessarily shared. But her descriptions of life in the South, of sweltering heat and overwhelming religion and close-knit family? I found myself in those. You will find yourself in these pages, too; I'm sure of it. 

See How Small by Scott Blackwood. I'm not even sure how to describe Scott Blackwood's newly released novel, set in the heart of Texas and -- like a lot of books I read this month -- in the middle of tragedy. The book is loosely based on a real, unsolved murder of three girls in Austin, Texas, but its focus is never on the crime itself. Instead, like Celeste Ng's Everything I Never Told You, the novel covers the reactions of the girls' community, the impact of grief on a family and a town. It's a beautifully-written work; the three girls hover like specters throughout the novel, speaking in one unified voice when they appear at all, and the chapters read more like poetry than prose. See How Small is reminiscent of Alice Sebold's The Lovely Bones, but it's also entirely its own. 

The Localist by Carrie Rollwagen. This book came across my Instagram feed last month -- thanks, Birmingham friends! -- and I'm so glad it did. Writer and blogger Carrie Rollwagen spent a year shopping locally, but this isn't another book tracking the 365 days of her adventure; instead, it's a thoughtful, engaging look at the economics and consequences of shopping small. Rollwagen is never preachy, but she is convicting, and her book inspired me to take a look at my own purchasing habits. Full disclosure: Rollwagen also spent three years as an independent bookstore owner, and her stories were often similar to my own, which validated some of the thoughts and struggles I have as a new entrepreneur. At the very least, The Localist will encourage you to second guess your purchases, to shop responsibly, and -- perhaps most importantly -- to engage with your community more kindly.

reading recap: december 2014.

I closed out 2014 with 65 books read in one year; I'm not sure that's a record or anything -- so many of our customers are more well-read and read with more frequency -- but it's a number I'm pleased with. I'm also grateful that even during the store's busiest season, I managed to read about a book a week; not too shabby, if I do say so myself. 

The Truth About Twinkie Pie by Kat Yeh. This Southern middle reader novel was touching and funny; 12-year-old GIgi (short for Galileo Galilei, of course) narrates The Truth About Twinkie Pie, and it's her voice readers will love. After Gigi and her sister Didi land a million dollars from a national cooking contest, they leave the trailer parks of South Carolina for a life off the coast of New York, where Gigi can graduate from high school -- something her older sister never did. It's rare to find a middle reader book with such a sense of place; Southerners old and young will sympathize with the sisters as they try to adjust to a new life away from Southern familiarities and customs. Author Kat Yeh has written a remarkably realistic -- while still extremely funny -- book about growing up and discovering who you are, and the relationship she creates between Gigi and her sister will keep young readers turning the pages until they discover the end. A fun bonus? Didi's Southern-inspired recipes are sprinkled throughout the book and will give middle readers a fun way to interact even when the final chapter has been read. (The Truth About Twinkie Pie releases January 27.) 

The Rosie Effect by Graeme Simsion. I adored Graeme Simsion's The Rosie Project, so I was excited to dive into the newly-released sequel last month. And although I don't think The Rosie Effect is quite as well done as its predecessor, I loved getting to see Simsion really explore the depths of his quirky main character, Don Tillman. In the new novel, Tillman -- with his characteristic science-guy demeanor -- must have his most difficult challenge yet: the challenge of becoming a parent. His personality lends itself to some cringe-inducing moments, and the preciseness of his character is the book's strongest characteristic. I found the book's descriptions and stories about Don's wife Rosie to be pretty weak and not entirely accurate with the character we were introduced to in the first novel, but overall, this is a fun sequel certainly worth reading. 

Redeployment by Phil Klay. This book of short stories was the winner of the National Book Award in 2014, and it's easy to see why. The book is raw and devastating and real, but author Phil Klay also injects moments of dark humor into his stories, and the effect is an entirely readable collection of stories. Klay is a former U.S. Marine, so his stories feel achingly true-to-life, and as someone with little to no knowledge about America's recent conflicts with Iraq and Afghanistan, I found the book to be terribly important. I intended to read just a few stories to familiarize myself with the work, but I found myself needing to read the entire book; it just felt important. I'm tempted to say this book is one everyone needs to read, but since I know that's setting my expectations high, I'd at least tell you to read a couple of Klay's stories; his voice is impeccable. (Warning, if it needs to be said: This book is full of graphic language and war-time content, so keep that in mind when searching for the next book on your nightstand.) 

The Girl on the Train by Paula Hawkins. Okay, everyone, we've found the next Gone Girl. Paula Hawkins' new novel, The Girl on the Train, is fast-paced and smart; it's well-written and gasp-inducing. The book follows Rachel, a young 30-something who takes the same commuter train into London every day. As she stares out the window, she imagines the lives of the people she sees and uses the stories to escape the disappointments she faces in her own life. Then one day, she sees something that startles her to her core and changes everything. We've heard The Girl on the Train compared to Gone Girl and Alfred Hitchcock's Rear Window, and both comparisons are spot on. I read this novel in less than 24 hours; once you start, you may not be able to stop. The pacing is brilliant and the narrative is pretty close to perfection, I think. (The Girl on the Train releases January 13.)

my favorite books of 2014.

It feels almost silly to put together a compilation of my favorite books of 2014. The Internet is full of these kinds of lists already, lists created by book experts: NPR editors, New York Times critics, library groups; my own list seems paltry in comparison. But it would also seem silly not to make a list. (What is the saying? Something about never letting the fear of playing keep you from the game?) I am the proprietress of a bookstore, after all. 

After much thought, then, here are my top books of 2014, in no particular order and with no specific criteria in mind, though I did keep my list to books published in 2014, and I didn’t even look at another “best of 2014” list before making my own. (I didn’t want my tastes tainted with bias!) I’ve included my top 10 adult books and my 10 favorite children’s books of the year. 

Top Ten Adult Books of 2014

• Landline by Rainbow Rowell. I love any book that paints a funny, realistic portrayal of marriage (so many books and movies choose to end there). 
• Far Outside the Ordinary by Prissy Elrod. Memoirs are my personal weakness, but this one made the list because it’s well-written and locally-published, plus it’s pretty on a shelf.
• One More Thing by B.J. Novak. Novak is hilarious and smart; these short stories – some just a sentence or two in length – were a highlight of 2014. 
• Delancey by Molly Wizenberg. This delightful memoir about a couple who opens up a restaurant hit so close to home this year. 
• Big Little Lies by Liane Moriarty. Book clubs, if you haven’t discovered Moriarty, now’s the time; her brand of satire is one of my new favorite things.
• The Opposite of Loneliness by Marina Keegan. Keegan showed so much promise as a young writer; her essays would make a lovely gift for a 20-something. 
• The From-Aways by CJ Hauser. Another local lady makes the list; Hauser’s debut novel was the perfect smart, summertime escape.
• Tables in the Wilderness by Preston Yancey. This memoir makes the list because it spoke to where I am in my faith journey right now; it’s an interesting look at why one evangelical chose to go liturgical.
• The Secret Place by Tana French. French’s mystery/suspense novels will make my top ten lists, always and forever; her latest about a girls’ boarding school didn’t disappoint.
• The Boston Girl by Anita Diamant. This new novel by the author of The Red Tent is a beautiful blend of history and fiction; the narrator – 85-year-old Addie Baum – won my heart.

Top Ten Children’s Books of 2014

• The Meaning of Maggie by Megan Jean Sovern. Eleven-year-old Maggie reminded me so much of myself that I snagged a copy for my own shelves.
• Planet Kindergarten by Sue Ganz-Schmitt. This was a hit in our preschool story times, perfect for new and aspiring kindergartners. 
• Kid Presidents by David Stabler and Doogie Horner. I sneaked behind the counter and read this one with equal parts fascination and laughter.
• Orange Triangle Fox by Sarah Jones. Clever board books babies and parents can enjoy are tricky to find.
• The Book with No Pictures by B.J. Novak. This one is a new children’s classic; prepare to laugh out loud right alongside your child. 
• The Categorical Universe of Candice Phee by Barry Jonsberg. You can’t ever have too many plucky preteen narrators, as far as I’m concerned.
• The Iridescence of Birds: A Book About Henri Matisse by Patricia MacLachlan. Buy this one for the breathtaking illustrations alone (though the historical element is brilliant, too). 
• Terrapin by Wendell Berry. Nature-loving kids and adults will love this one, and the poetry is beautiful.
• Animalium by Jenny Broom and Katie Scott. Prepare to drool over this gorgeous – and huge! – book filled with facts about the animal kingdom.
• The Right Word: Roget and His Thesaurus by Jen Bryant. Biographical picture books might be my other new favorite thing of 2014, and this one’s at the top of the list.

reading recap: november 2014.

November and December are difficult months to get a lot of reading done; there's so much going on in the store, and by the time I get home, reading -- though a beloved hobby -- doesn't look nearly as good as crawling under the covers and turning out the lights. Nevertheless, I tackled four books last month.

Read Between the Lines by Jo Knowles. We receive a number of advanced reader copies (ARCs) each month, and often the middle reader selections -- those written specifically with 10 to 14 year olds in mind -- can get lost in the shuffle. So last month, I snagged Read Between the Lines, by award-winning YA writer Jo Knowles, out of the ARC box. This is my first experience with a Knowles book (though Living with Jackie Chan and See You at Harry's have both received critical acclaim), and I'll admit: It wasn't my favorite, at least not for the 10 to 14-year-old crowd. The nature of the subject matter and the language both lend themselves to an older audience; in fact, young adults might really enjoy this one, and I did love the innovative way Knowles weaved the stories of ten different characters together. Each chapter featured a unique story and narration, and by the end of the novel, the stories came together to give, in my opinion, a fairly accurate portrayal of a day in the life of an average high school student. Again, not one I'd recommend for the typical middle reader crowd, but YA readers might want to keep their eyes open for this one; it will hit shelves this March.

American Wife by Curtis Sittenfeld. So many books have been written with "wife" in the title, it's hard to tell them all apart (and many titles, I think, get overlooked because they just all start to sound the same). The American Wife, though, made quite a splash when it was released a few years ago: It's a fictional retelling of the life of Laura Bush, and it was my traveling book club's pick for the month. I have enjoyed Curtis Sittenfeld's writing before, but The American Wife was new to me, and its length not only felt daunting, it was often mind-numbing. The novel covers nearly 50 years of fictionalized history, and while I was often fascinated by Laura and the Bush family (in the novel, Alice and the Blackwell family), the book dragged in parts. By the time I was finished, though, I was dying to know more about the Bush family and presidency; this one will encourage you, I think, to dig a little deeper into part of our nation's history and into the lives of one of America's most notable political families. Length aside, you might want to pick this one up, particularly if Jeb Bush makes a go of it in 2016. (The Bushes -- at least fictionalized -- are way more interesting than I ever imagined.)

The Husband's Secret by Liane Moriarty. I have raved to friends and customers about Liane Moriarty, and after wading through American Wife, I knew I would need a page-turner. The Husband's Secret fit the bill; it was the only Moriarty novel I hadn't read yet, and I wasn't disappointed. Moriarty is satirical and funny and smart, but her books always go a little deeper, too. The Husband's Secret is reminiscent -- intentionally -- of the Greek myth about Pandora's box; what happens when we discover something we never should have known? Can we put the lid back on Pandora's box, or is the damage already done? Like her other novels, The Husband's Secret is thought-provoking and wise, providing perfect fodder for a book club.

Smoke Gets in Your Eyes: And Other Lessons from the Crematory by Caitlin Doughty. We ordered this one for the shop after it was featured on NPR, and I'll be honest: I didn't think it would sell. The subject matter is dark -- Sidney took a copy out of the box and immediately asked if the title referenced "dead people smoke" (it does). Smoke Gets in Your Eyes has surprised us all by flying off the shelves; we've had to reorder multiple times, enough that I finally decided to read it for myself. It's not my typical genre of literature, and some of the details were a little too dark and gory for me, but Caitlin Doughty does an excellent job of reminding readers that death is just a normal part of life, one we should discuss without qualms. Although many of the chapters are about Doughty's personal experiences, she also sews in historical facts and mythical stories about death; those touches make the book really well-rounded and eye-opening. If you've got the stomach and the stamina, Smoke Gets in Your Eyes is a fascinating read.

reading recap: october 2014.

Being a bookstore owner has its challenges, but make no mistake: There are perks, too. One such perk is the gift of the advanced reader copy, or the ARC. We receive several of these from publishers each month, and most of them find their way to our free book bin in the shop, a case of so many books, so little time. But every so often, a publisher sends a review copy our way that we absolutely must save for ourselves. Last month, three ARCs made it on top of my nightstand. 

Migratory Animals by Mary Helen Specht. I knew I’d have to read this book when I saw the main character’s name was Flannery (Flannery O’Connor, forever and ever, amen), but really, debut novelist Mary Helen Specht wove such a beautiful story, I was hooked from the beginning. Migratory Animals features Flannery, a young scientist returning to her hometown of Austin after years of research in Nigeria; Flannery finds herself torn between the two cultures, between the family of her blood and the family she created for herself in Africa. The book is a story of coming-of-age when you’re a 30-something, of family and friends and how we cope when faced with grief and growing up. I thought this book was well-written and slow turning; I found myself rooting for each character’s development, likeable or not. The book releases in January, and I think it will be perfect reading for a slow winter day. (For fans of The Explanation for Everything by Lauren Grodstein.) 

The Bishop’s Wife by Mette Ivie Harrison. Set for release on December 30, The Bishop’s Wife is a suspenseful look at Mormon culture, patriarchy, and secrecy. I picked it out of the ARC pile based on the suspenseful premise: Linda Wallheim, the wife of a Mormon bishop, becomes increasingly troubled by the Mormon church’s secretive structure, especially when one cold winter morning, her neighbor appears on the her doorstep with his 5-year-old daughter, claiming his wife has disappeared. Unfortunately, that premise is more compelling than the book itself; the plot makes for page-turning material, but the writing feels lacking – a sort of Lifetime movie in book form. Check this one out from the library if you’re looking for a mid-winter suspense. 

The Boston Girl by Anita Diamant. Here is the ARC I had been waiting for, and it releases in hardback December 9, in plenty of time to snag copies for holiday gift-giving. Diamant is the author of The Red Tent, a book I read years ago and loved, and her new novel, The Boston Girl, is already a favorite of mine for the year. Addie Baum is The Boston Girl, born in 1900 to immigrant parents, and the novel is written in the present, when 85-year-old Addie tells the story of her life to her twenty-two-year-old granddaughter, who has asked her: How did you get to be the woman you are today? The story develops over decades, reminding me a lot of the classic A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. I loved this one so much, I immediately mailed it to a friend – the ultimate compliment to any book, I think. Please add this one to your holiday reading list; it’s meant to be read during the winter months with a cup of tea and some time on your hands. 

Yes Please by Amy Poehler. I finished September with Lena Dunham’s Not That Kind of Girl, and I finished October with Amy Poehler’s Yes Please. The book is well-written and sharp, different, though, from Dunham’s or Mindy Kaling’s or Tina Fey’s books, which I think is worth noting since those titles are often compared to one another (to the detriment of the authors, I think). Poehler’s book is hefty, both in size and, believe it or not, in substance. Yes Please is coffee table worthy, filled with pictures and paraphernalia from Poehler’s life; she’s also filled the pages with memories and advice. The stories from her SNL days and her Parks and Recreation family are the most compelling – Seth Meyers and Mike Schur both contribute – but her words of wisdom about life as a working mom (“Remember my motto: ‘Good for her, not for me,’” she writes) made me get out my highlighter in agreement. I know it’s early yet, but I suspect this will be on lots of holiday wish lists this year, and deservedly so. Yes Please is enjoyable, fun, and wise.

reading recap: september 2014.

So much of reading is seasonal, isn't it? I read six books last month, all of which I think transition us perfectly into this season of blankets and candles, cardigans and hot tea. 

The Secret Place by Tana French. I discovered Tana French years ago, back when her first book In the Woods came out, and I've been reading her books faithfully ever since. People who've heard of French love her, but for whatever reason, not everyone is familiar with her work. Consider this your introduction: She's a genius. I recommend her to any customer looking for a good suspense; Gillian Flynn -- of Gone Girlfame -- is great, but I often find her work a little too dark for my taste. French strikes just the right chord, and her new book is no different. The Secret Place takes place at an all-girls' boarding school, and -- in case you're a Netflix-watcher -- the plot reminded me a bit of the latest season of The Killing (that's a good thing). Each of French's books build on a minor character from a previous novel, but never fear: Her novels are entirely stand alone, so you can pick up anywhere, and The Secret Place would be a fine place to start. It's Tana French at her best.

Dare Me by Megan Abbott. Customers are always recommending new reads, and although I don't always get to read your suggestions -- my nightstand has reached never before seen levels of absurdity -- I try. Dare Me was a customer pick and the perfect companion novel to The Secret Place: disturbing and suspenseful. Author Megan Abbott (who I stumbled across in last month's The Fever) delves into the dramas and dealings of a high school girls' cheerleading squad; it's an oddly accurate -- albeit terrifying -- portrayal of the meanness and cliquishness of high school. Read it, and be filled with immense relief and gratitude your high school years are behind you. 

The Categorical Universe of Candice Phee by Barry Jonsberg. The moment this middle reader book came out of the box, I knew I'd have to read it. (I'm a sucker for pretty covers.) It's a newly-released chapter book -- perfect for middle schoolers and early teens -- reminiscent of The Meaning of Maggie (one of my favorite books of 2014, I think). The story is narrated by 12-year-old Candice Phee, a girl who's quirky and different -- and not, as the reader might first think, autistic. Instead, she's simply growing up in a grief-filled home, trying to mend a decade-long family feud while navigating the tricky world of middle school. I thought the book was well-written and fascinating and fun; unlike so many other books out right now for that middle reader group, this one was realistic and family-oriented instead of fantasy or angst-driven -- a refreshing and welcome change. 

Habits of the House by Fay Weldon. Hooray for another customer recommendation! This trilogy by Fay Weldon is described as a Downton Abbey for intellectuals -- the perfect synopsis given that Weldon was a writer for the BBC series Upstairs Downstairs. I typically shy away from historical fiction -- it's just not my favorite genre -- but I thoroughly enjoyed this book, set in England at the turn of the century. It would be such a fun series to embark on this fall; I've only read the first, Habits of the House, but I've already got the second on hold, and the third releases this December. Fans of Downton Abbey and Kate Morton will want to add this one to their reading lists. 

Not That Kind of Girl by Lena Dunham. If you're a millennial, you've heard of Lena Dunham, the writer, director, and producer of the HBO show Girls. She's been called -- both ironically and un-ironically -- the voice of my generation, and despite the fact that her show Girls really isn't my cup of tea, I can't deny Dunham can write. She's got a knack for storytelling, and her newly-released memoir is vulnerable and bizarre and really well done. It's, to some extent, a feminist manifesto without being grandiose or self-congratulating, and although Dunham and I are different in almost every way -- many of her stories were completely foreign to my Southern sensibilities -- I found the book to inexplicably relatable. I finished it in just a couple of days, and while I won't be recommending it to, say, my mother, I understand why 20-somethings are enamored with Dunham. She's someone it seems you could be friends with, even if you have almost nothing in common. Recommended for fans of Mindy Kaling's Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me?, though here there's some R-rated content thrown in.

Tables in the Wilderness by Preston Yancey. My husband and I are smack dab in the middle of a faith change -- or, perhaps more accurately, a faith search. We were both raised in Christian homes, surrounded by loving families, earned degrees at a Christian university. When we moved to Thomasville, we began the search for a new church home, perhaps one with different roots than the restorationist church we both were born and brought up in. Enter faith writer Preston Yancey's new memoir Tables in the Wilderness, which I bizarrely read in the same weekend as Not That Kind of Girl. Yancey's book describes his own faith journey from his Southern Baptist roots to the Anglican church he now calls home, and perhaps it was the aching of my own faith-based growing pains, but I found  his story to be so comforting. (Yancey's also a Christian college and Great Books graduate, making his stories even more similar to mine.) Yancey's writing style is a bit different from what I'm normally drawn to -- the language sometimes reads like poetry rather than prose -- but I was so taken by the familiarity of his story that I truly loved this book. I'm putting this one on my husband's "required reading" list (and yours, if you're so inclined).

reading recap: august 2014.

I managed to clock in eight books for the month of August. Here's my take on what you might want to read next:

The Fever by Megan Abbott. This was an early August selection, so I've been recommending it to readers and customers for about a month, and the description I give is always the same: The Crucible meetsGone Girl (I happened to love both). Megan Abbott writes at a ferocious pace; I stayed up way past my bedtime finishing The Fever, a twisted tale revolving around teenage girls who seem struck by the same frenzied panic and plague -- both physical and emotional. It sounds like the plot to a bad Lifetime movie, but I assure you, Abbott handles the novel with dignity. If you're looking for a good suspense story to close out the summer, this one's for you.

Flying Shoes by Lisa Howorth. Even booksellers need reading recommendations, and I found a mention of Flying Shoes in a recent issue of Garden & Gun. Lisa Howorth is a fellow bookstore owner -- her store, Square Books, continues to make the lists of best indie bookshops in the South -- so I figured Flying Shoes would be worth my time. The premise reads like the introduction to a spine-tingling thriller, but I actually think that description does the book a disservice. The novel -- which centers on Mary Byrd Thornton, a woman whose 9-year-old brother was molested and killed in the late eighties -- was based on the murder of Lisa's own brother, but the story doesn't stop there. A crime novel, this is not. Instead, Flying Shoes is dark and tangled and at times, oddly funny; Lisa knows the South, and it shows. Her cast is as wide-ranged and varied as the Southerners I know; read the book for those Southern characters alone.

Small Blessings by Martha Woodruff. When people ask what my favorite types of books are, I'm never quite sure what to say. I read a lot, and I try to read a fairly diverse selection of topics and types. Small Blessings, though, is my kind of book; I found myself cheering for the characters and relishing each page of the story. In the novel, a small town college professor meets his match in a new woman running the campus bookshop; it's not a love story so much as it is a life story, and because of my own small town, small campus dealings, I found a lot to root for in the story. This is my go-to recommendation for fans of The Storied Life of AJ Fikry or the Mitford books. It's just an all-around lovely book.

Defending Jacob by William Landay. So many customers have been recommending this one for ages, and I finally snagged a copy for a plane ride in which I inexplicably ran out of reading material (I blame my misfortune on two delayed flights). I'm glad I had somehow read through my packed bag of books, though, because Defending Jacob was the perfect book for a long flight, and it was just as powerful as all of my fellow readers suggested it would be. District Attorney Andy Barber finds himself on the other side of the courtroom in William Landay's novel, and he could never have predicted his client: his teenage son Jacob, accused of stabbing a classmate to death in a picture-perfect setting. Every month, I stumble across a book I know would make a fine book club pick, and this is it for August. If you haven't read it yet, now is the time.

True Grit by Charles Portis. I think our entire staff read this one in preparation for our Film Society meeting last month; I had, bizarrely, seen the film version before I'd read the Charles Portis novel, and upon finishing, I couldn't understand how I'd never stumbled across it before. Hannah's got a great review up on the blog, so all I'll add is my belief that True Grit deserves a spot as one of America's classics, in the bookstore and in the classroom. I can't believe Mattie Ross isn't mentioned alongside her spunky counterparts: Jo March, Anne Shirley, Ramona Quimby, Scout Finch. If you haven't read True Grit, give it a try. Mattie deserves a read.

Friendswood by Rene Steinke. Rene Steinke had me just a few pages into Friendswood -- in one brief paragraph, she completely turns the tables on the plot she's painted: Friendswood, Texas, changes from a small Southern town where neighbors wave hello, to the site of possible toxic petroleum sludge, where neighbors suffer from cancer and deaths and physical oddities are the norm. The novel is handled with a deftness that's impressive; Steinke possesses a literary style that makes the novel incredibly readable, but also challenging and thought-provoking. Each chapter is told from a different character's perspective, and their tales of faith and love and passion and environmental advocacy make Friendswood -- both the setting and the novel itself -- incredibly compelling.

A Life Intercepted by Charles Martin. Thomasville loves Charles Martin. He's a Southern, faith-based writer, and his books fly off our shelves. This week, we're welcoming him to town for the launch of his newest novel, A Life Intercepted, and -- perk of the job alert -- I was able to read a copy before it debuted this week. Martin's fans won't be disappointed. The story covers Martin's typical territory, and it's well-written and easy reading; a bonus? Much of the plot of A Life Intercepted focuses on football, a topic clearly in Martin's realm of expertise -- and one I happen to really enjoy. Snag your signed copy of the book at this week's Shelf Talk and Signing!

Now I See You by Nicole C. Kear. This was our traveling book club's latest selection, and -- oddly -- it was also my only nonfiction pick of the month. Now I See You is self-deprecating and funny, and there'd be nothing unusual about that description, except this is a memoir about going blind. And although Nicole Kear is funny and likable, her story is still heart-breaking; Now I See You won't elicit your pity, though; instead, you'll find yourself laughing and cheering for Nicole as she navigates a world that is rapidly going dark. You want unflinchingly honest? Here's your next read.