"Women in Sunlight," by Frances Mayes

Many of you know, or know of, the American writer Frances Mayes' memoirs about her time in Tuscany, Italy (most famously, "Under the Tuscan Sun," "Bella Tuscany," and "Every Day in Tuscany"). I did not know, however, that Mayes has also written fiction about expatriates in Tuscany; I have just read and thoroughly enjoyed her novel "Women in Sunlight" (Crown, 2018). It is a lovely portrayal of a sort of dreamlike yearlong stay in Tuscany by three late-middle-aged, talented North Carolina women who have only recently met, exchanged their stories -- which include, among them, those of recent widowhood, betrayal, divorce, and the pain of a daughter seemingly lost to drugs -- and within a very short time, decide to take a yearlong lease on a villa in a small town in Tuscany. They become very close friends, and enjoy the pleasures of their new lives: gorgeous scenery, friendly local people, a new writer friend living nearby, delicious food, travels around Italy, learning Italian, time to engage in art, writing, cooking, and gardening, and -- of course! -- some new men in their lives. There are intriguing plot elements, but the main pleasures of the book are the women's new and joyful, pleasurable lives in this beautiful place. So, although some of the plot points, and the timing, are not very realistic (how many people could and would in a very short period of time pick up their lives and decide to live for at least a year with brand-new friends in a country across the ocean? With no issues about money, on top of it?) but this reader at least, and I suspect most readers, will not dwell on this lack of realism. One slight obstacle I felt when reading this novel was that the book frequently toggled back and forth among its characters' viewpoints and thoughts, sometimes not making it clear whose voice we are hearing. But this is a small issue, and perhaps my issue rather than the author's. I have to add that one of the pleasures of the book for me was the way that the characters often casually referred to the books of famous women writers. Overall, this novel is so delightful that one can simply sink into it with a sigh of pleasure. I imagine most readers will, at least in passing, entertain the thought of following in the paths of these characters and experiencing a glorious stay in Tuscany as well.

"Shred Sisters," by Betsy Lerner

As I was reading "Shred Sisters" (Grove Press, 2024), by Betsy Lerner, I was thinking about how very often novels are about sisters. Although (or maybe because?) I have three terrific brothers but no sisters, I often wonder about what it would be like to have and be a sister. Of course (of course!) I get much of my information about sisters (as I do about life in general!) from books. Among novels about sisters that I have read and enjoyed are my beloved Jane Austen novels ("Pride and Prejudice," "Sense and Sensibility"), Louisa May Alcott's "Little Women"; "Atonement," by Ian McEwan; "They Were Sisters," by Dorothy Whipple; "The Story Sisters," by Alice Hoffman; "Atlas of Unknowns," by Tania James; and many, many more. Reading "Shred Sisters," I was reminded of how often sister-focused books follow certain tropes, subtly or not. One is that each sister has a distinctly different character and role. Another is that there is usually deep love among sisters, but also deep divisions and violent emotions. Often the novel focuses on the latter, but by the end of the novel, the sisters have gained a new appreciation of each other, and/or have reconciled or at least reached a place of resolution and even peace. Along these lines, the sisters in "Shred Sisters" are very different from each other. Olive (Ollie) is dramatic, glamorous, fearless, and utterly unpredictable. Amy is serious, careful, successful at her studies, and a little dorky. Amy feels a lot of worry and fear, but also anger, about the ways Ollie flits in and out of their family's lives, often flirting with danger along the way, and seeming not to care about the effects of her unpredictable and irresponsible behavior on her family. Amy is very conflicted about constantly having to pick up the pieces Ollie leaves behind. But the basic connection and love between them persists. This is all disturbing and difficult, yet the basic love in the family (including Ollie's and Amy's longsuffering parents) comes through. Of course not all fiction about sisters is like this, but authors often do make sure to clearly differentiate their sister characters from each other, assigning them different characteristics, strengths, and weaknesses, and describing conflicts between or among them.

"Tell Me Everything," by Elizabeth Strout

Last time (10/24/24) I wrote about how I (like most readers) watch out for new fiction by my favorite authors. One of the authors whose new writing I eagerly await is Elizabeth Strout. She has created a world of overlapping characters (e.g., Olive Kitteridge, Lucy Barton, Bob Burgess) in her various novels; very often a character from one book suddenly pops up in a subsequent book. The novels are set in Maine, and contain a fascinating variety of highly original, sometimes eccentric, and very recognizable characters (which, when you think about it, is a real feat). With each novel, the reader feels further and further drawn into the world of these characters in this geographical area. I was excited to read Strout's latest, "Tell Me Everything" (Random House, 2024), and it turned out to be, in my opinion, the best of her novels, and that is saying a lot. Strout's writing is always fresh, crisp, and often surprising. Even more than in the earlier novels, the portrayal of the characters in "Tell Me Everything," and of how they face the many facets of life, is utterly immersive and deeply humane. I highly recommend this absorbing, moving novel. -----------------

On New Books by Favorite Authors, such as "The Wren, The Wren," by Anne Enright

Like many readers, I am always excited when I see that one of my favorite authors has a new, or very recent, book out. I usually make a note, and as soon as possible, either put the title on my local library's waiting list, or buy the book. Of course I can't be absolutely sure that because the author is a favorite, I will like every book she or he has written. A quick glance at reviews generally gives me a good idea of whether I want to read the book or not; usually I do want to read it, and look forward to it with great anticipation. Lately I have been fortunate to note that a lovely outpouring of several books in this category have appeared: new books by authors I admire/enjoy, with whom I often have a long history. The most recent of these is "The Wren, The Wren," (Norton, 2023) by the wonderful Irish writer Anne Enright, whose novel "The Gathering" (2007) first drew me to her work. The current very woman-centered novel, "The Wren, The Wren," focuses on three generations of women, but the women, and the story, are always somewhat overshadowed by the family patriarch, a famous Irish poet who generally focuses on what is best for himself. The characters are vivid, their relationships perceptively portrayed; the author's psychological insights are sharp and clear; the writing is distinctive and compelling; and readers are reminded of the great gift this writer is to us.

"Faith Fox," and Other Fiction by Jane Gardam

Jane Gardam is the kind of author, somewhat well-known but not famous, at least in the United States (the Baltimore Sun opines that "Jane Gardam has been a secret too well kept from American readers"), that a reader who discovers her is knocked over by her originality, astringent tone, and incisiveness. Her most famous books are a trilogy of novels ("Old Filth," "The Man in the Wooden Hat," and "Last Friends") that is set in British colonial and then postcolonial locales, such as, in particular, Hong Kong. The stories travel back and forth in the history of the main characters. The books focus on the British expatriates who served in various capacities in the countries of the British Empire, including their individual histories before such service and their years of reminiscences afterward. The main characters are Edward Feathers, his wife Betty, and her secret lover Terry Veneering. Each of the three books focuses on one of these three characters, but all three circle around the same events from their various perspectives. The characters and plot are of great interest, and even more so in the context of this fraught colonial enterprise. (This latter is perhaps of particular personal interest to me, since my childhood was spent as an expat in the barely postcolonial period in India.) All of this is to say that after reading this trilogy some years ago, I read a few more of Gardam's novels (see my posts of 3/8/10, 6/3/12, 6/22/13, 9/19/14, 1/8/18), always with great interest and admiration. I have just read her 1996 novel, "Faith Fox" (Carroll and Graf), which its front flap calls a comedy of manners. I agree that it is, but it is more than that. The characters are expertly portrayed, and the story is full of humor, yes, but also pathos. I don't feel that this novel quite compares with the brilliance and depth of the (published slightly later) "Old Filth" trilogy, but the intentions of the author for the two books were clearly different. I highly recommend all of Gardam's books that I have read, including "Faith Fox," but the "Old Filth" novels are the pinnacle of her brilliant writing.

"Old Lovegood Girls," by Gail Godwin

"Old Lovegood Girls" is the most recent novel by one of my favorite writers (see my posts of 6/7/13, 8/22/15, and, very recently, 9/15/24, although these represent only some of the Godwin books I have read). The title refers to the young women at a somewhat posh, traditional, and yet, in a low-key and "proper" way, feminist women's junior college in 1958, and follows the intertwined and complicated stories, over a period of decades, of two of these young women who become friends, as well as the related stories of other students of faculty members, of family members, and of lovers and spouses. The novel addresses questions of women's friendship, social class, family, romances, marriages and other life events. There are also some secrets and surprises, some of which are life-changing. I am drawn to stories of women's friendships, and Godwin, as always, shows her knowledge of human psychology, especially women's psychology. As with all her books, this novel is beautifully written, compelling, and revelatory.

"Four Squares," by Bobby Finger

After reading and enjoying Bobby Finger's first novel, "The Old Place," in 2022, I was interested to read his new one, "Four Squares" (Putnam, 2024), and I was not disappointed. The main character, Artie, a gay man in New York City during the time after the height of AIDS but still under its heavy shadow, is in some ways introverted and self-sufficient, but sometimes feels, and regrets, that he has few friends. But those few, and the regulars at a local bar, give him increased community, connection, and support. The story alternates between 1992 and 2022, thus tracing the arc of Artie's relationships with lovers, chosen family members, and friends. Of course there are some tangled relationships and some secrets and surprises. But the overall tone of the novel is positive, hopeful and life affirming.

A Personal Note: On the Profound Consolations of Books

First, as an introduction to the main topic of this post, I want to do something I have not done before on this blog: to re-post one of my earlier posts on this blog. Posted here on 12/26/16, it is still very meaningful to me: "I loved seeing Susan Chira’s short piece, “The Comforts of Jane,” in the Christmas Day 2016 issue of The New York Times Book Review. She writes there of how in a difficult, painful, and stress-filled time (“when the life of someone I loved was hanging in the balance”), she “turned to reading for solace,” and found the perfect book to (re)read was Jane Austen’s novel “Pride and Prejudice.” She says that because she already knew the plot, she “could savor the language, satire and repartee, the cutting observations…Austen was irresistible.” She adds, “I wanted escape, but I needed moral resonance.” She goes on to describe all the reasons that this beloved novel was the perfect consolation and companion during the crisis she was living through. Fortunately her story ended well, as “life righted itself.” She, like most Austen devotees, including me, continues to re-read Austen’s novels, and always remembers “how grateful I remain for the comfort I found in her pages.” Regular readers of this blog know how central Austen’s novels have been to my own reading life, so you will understand how I definitely appreciated and connected to Chira’s story." Now I have had particular occasion to need consolations, after the illness and death of my beloved husband in late 2021. My greatest consolations have been good memories and the loving support of my family and friends. In addition, in the days-in-days-out of these harshly changed days, months, and years, one of the consolations I can most rely on is reading, especially novels and memoirs. They are almost a medicine, as well as a welcome distraction, a source of absorption, a pleasure, a support. In short, my longtime friends, books, are a reliable and ever-available source of consolation, one that I lean on more than ever, and one for which I am tremendously grateful.

"Getting to Know Death: A Meditation," by Gail Godwin

For decades, I have read, admired, learned from, and enjoyed Gail Godwin's contemplative, psychologically insightful novels (the best known of which is probably "The Odd Woman"), most of them well before I began this blog in 2010. However, I did write here about the most recent one, "Flora," on 6/7/13. I also wrote a post about Godwin's useful and revealing "Publishing: A Writer's Memoir" (8/22/15). Her very recent book, "Getting to Know Death" (Bloomsbury, 2024), is short (172 pages) but intense, describing her experiences with and feelings about age, serious illnesses and injuries (including, most prominently and frighteningly, her recent fall that caused a broken neck, and her ensuing long and difficult period of recovery), the deaths of people close to her (including her husband), and, now in her mid-eighties, the prospect of her own death. Although the author is candid and courageous in dealing with all of these difficult events, the book is less depressing that this description might suggest. It is not exactly "inspirational" either, but is matter of fact, thoughtful, and life affirming. It is divided into many short chapters, some on her personal history, some expressing doubts about her own ability to keep writing, some meditating on death, some reproducing or creating letters to and from the author, some quoting other authors, and a few unclassifiable pieces of writing. I wasn't sure how I would feel about this book, with its sensitive and difficult topics, or whether I would even want to finish it, but because of my admiration of Godwin, and because once I started reading it I was drawn in, I continued to the end, and am glad I did so.

RIP Paul Auster

“And that's why books are never going to die. It's impossible. It's the only time we really go into the mind of a stranger, and we find our common humanity doing this. So the book doesn't only belong to the writer, it belongs to the reader as well, and then together you make it what it is.”. Paul Auster Author, Screenwriter and Film Director 1947- 2024

"Life Span," by Molly Giles

I am of course drawn to writing set in the San Francisco Bay Area, where I live. For a while I have vaguely known of the Bay Area writer and writing professor (at San Francisco State University and elsewhere), Molly Giles, but had read little of her work. Her newest book, titled "Life Span: Impressions of a Lifetime Spent Crossing and Recrossing the Golden Gate Bridge" (WTAW Press, 2024) caught my attention, partly because crossing the Golden Gate Bridge several times a week has for decades been part of my life too. I raced through this book with much interest. The book is a sort of memoir in episodes. There is one entry for every year, beginning in 1945 when Giles was three years old, and continuing until 2023. Entries range from one to four pages, and each is an evocative vignette. Giles always wanted to be a writer, and although she has published several books and many stories, it has been an uphill battle for her, often discouraging, yet clearly fulfilling. The other main strand or theme explored in this book is that of her relationships with family over the decades. She had a somewhat fraught relationship with her parents; she has also had a series of partners who all disappoint her in many ways (although her current partner seems better than the rest). It is somewhat painful to see how she continues to be attracted to one difficult and unreliable man after another. Her relationship with her daughters is also at times fraught, but within the usual mother-daughter range, and improving with time; these daughters are the sources of real joy in her life. Although I was not initially drawn to the idea of depicting a life through these mini-narratives, I found the structure and story quite compelling. And even though (or partly because?) Giles is open, sometimes painfully so, about her own shortcomings, insecurities, and mistakes, I found myself both admiring and liking her, as well as the book. I will look for more of her work.

RIP Edna O'Brien

The Irish writer Edna O'Brien died 7/27/24 at the age of 93. Her fiction focused on women's lives and feelings, about which she wrote with passion. Her writing was sometimes controversial, especially in Ireland, because of its frankness about women's sexuality and love affairs. Her first book, "Country Girls" (1960), for example, was initially banned in Ireland. As Hillel Italie wrote for the Associated Press after O'Brien's death, "Few so concretely and poetically challenged Ireland's religious, sexual and gender boundaries. Few wrote so fiercely, so sensually about loneliness, rebellion, desire and persecution." Nevertheless, O'Brien's writing was prolific, very popular, and prize-winning.

"The Paris Novel," by Ruth Reichl

I have devoured (forgive food/book reference) food critic Ruth Reichl's several memoirs and other writings (See for example my post of 6/1/19 on her memoir "Save Me the Plums."). I have now just finished her absolutely enchanting new novel, "The Paris Novel" (Random House, 2024), and I loved its exquisite focus on the city of Paris, high fashion, and, especially, amazing and delicious French food. Stella lives in New York, leading a rather constrained life as a copy editor living on her own, but when her mother (with whom she has not been close) dies and leaves her money with instructions, surprisingly, for her to go to Paris, she does so. There she meets fascinating people and has magical adventures in the famous bookstore Shakespeare and Company, in several art museums, in a high fashion dress shop, in explorations of various parts of Paris and nearby towns, including beautiful houses and hotels and markets, and most of all, in a series of restaurants. It turns out that Stella has a hitherto undiscovered profound understanding of and appreciation of fine cooking and food, and one of the best parts of the novel is the mouth-watering descriptions of her experiencing the sense-filled and at the same time ethereal pleasures of fine French food. The story is full of interesting characters, and Stella herself blossoms as her world opens up. She has two quests, and -- not exactly a spoiler -- she achieves both. So okay, the novel is a kind of romantic fantasy, even a modern fairy tale, but it also includes some (not too heavy-handed) allusions to issues of identity, family, and other serious concerns. So this delicious (I couldn't resist...) novel is light yet substantive and meaningful in some ways, and an absolute delight to read.

RIP Ellen Gilchrist

I recently ran across a mention of the author Ellen Gilchrist and, in particular, of her short story collection "In the Land of Dreamy Dreams" (Little, Brown, 1981), and I remembered how much I had liked this book and others of Gilchrist's in the past, but had not thought about her work for years, perhaps decades. I immediately requested the above book at my local library. Then I went online to remind myself about her life and her books, and to my surprise, I saw that she had died in January of this year at the age of 88. I was surprised not to have heard this news, although I soon found that she had received obituaries in the New York Times and elsewhere that I had somehow missed. She was well-known in the 1980s especially, but less so in recent years. She was a National Book Award winner with a distinctive voice, often from the viewpoint of upper-class Southern women, but in unpredictable ways. Gilchrist, who was a Mississippi native and later lived in Arkansas, with a familiarity with New Orleans, often drew on her own life experiences, and was known for her "wry and poignant prose," as the Washington Post put it after her death. Interestingly, in college she studied under Eudora Welty. Gilchrist's characters were sometimes eccentric, seemingly free from certain societal constrictions (allowed to be so, it must be said, because of class privilege), yet still a part of the world of those constrictions. Her 26 books -- novels, stories, and essays -- often included recurring characters. I did reread "In the Land of Dreamy Dreams," and was glad to have revisited the world portrayed by Ellen Gilchrist. Perhaps I will soon reread her other most well-known work, "Victory in Japan" (1984) as well.

"Long Island," by Colm Toibin

I am an ardent fan of Colm Toibin's fiction, and have read his novels with great admiration and pleasure, and not a little awe. I have also heard him speak, and he has an amazing, powerful yet warm voice and presence. So I was thrilled when his most recent novel, "Long Island" (Scribner, 2024) came out. This is a sequel to one of Toibin's best known and best loved novels, "Brooklyn" (2009). In "Brooklyn," a young woman -- Eilis -- emigrates from Ireland to the United States in the 1950s, then briefly returns to Ireland, during which time she has to choose between two men, Tony in the U.S. and Jim in Ireland. In "Long Island," we find that Eilis and her husband and children now, twenty years later, live in Long Island, and their lives have recently been roiled by an unexpected betrayal. Eilis, angry and confused, then returns to Ireland to visit her mother and to figure out how she feels and what she should do next. When she sees Jim again, the old conflict in her mind between her husband and her former Irish love gradually returns. The twists and turns of the plot are certainly part of the attraction of this novel, as they were with "Brooklyn." But the reader is even more caught up in the portrayals of the characters. Toibin is so psychologically astute, and writes so well about the nuances of the characters' feelings and behavior, that we feel we are inside the characters' minds and hearts, and yet we wonder about the inscrutable mysteries of those same minds and hearts. His writing is perceptive, insightful, and gorgeous. I will admit -- and this is hard for me to say -- that at times while reading "Long Island" I felt it was just a tiny bit repetitive of "Brooklyn." But of course all sequels need to have some overlap. And nothing could keep me from reading and deeply admiring every novel that Toibin writes. I highly recommend this novel. I suggest reading "Brooklyn" first, if you have not yet read it, but even if you have not and do not, "Long Island" is freestanding, and provides plenty of context about the earlier novel, so you can thoroughly savor and enjoy it even without having read "Brooklyn." (For more on Toibin and his novels, see my posts of 1/28/10, 12/4/12, 1/20/13, 11/9/14, 11/16/14, and 12/6/14).

"Real Americans," by Rachel Khong

Rachel Khong is an author I have heard about for a while, and her new novel -- "Real Americans" (Knopf, 2024) -- got good reviews, but I wasn't sure if I would like it or not. I requested it from the local library, still not sure if I would actually read it. (Side note: Thank goodness for libraries, and for the luxury of checking out a book one has heard about, taking it home, holding the book in one's hands, reading the flap descriptions, and leafing through it, all in service of deciding whether to actually read it. If the answer is no, then no harm done. If the answer is yes, and it turns out to be wonderful, hurray!) This longish (400-page) book is crammed with storylines, alternating timelines, swoops among countries, racial identity issues, complex family dynamics, some medical science, a little light science fiction, love affairs, alienation, many emotions, whiplash changes in the characters' lives, secrets, mysteries, and the answers -- eventually -- to those mysteries. The main characters are Lily, who is Chinese American, and her son Nico/Nick, but there are many other characters, including four generations of Lily's family, both in China and the United States. I hesitate to say much about the plot, first because it is somewhat tangled, and second, because I don't want to give away any plot points that the reader should discover on her/his own, and at the right time. So this is a long way of saying that although right up to when I started the book, I hesitated (partly because of the science-fictionish parts that had been mentioned in one review, and readers of this blog may remember that I am generally not very interested in science fiction, except for a few of the classics) to go forward with it, but I was soon drawn in, and then couldn't stop reading. So yes, I recommend this complicated, compelling novel.

"Ana Turns" and two other books by Lisa Gornick

I very recently "discovered" the novels of Lisa Gornick. How glorious it always is to find a new (to me) author! I stumbled across "Ana Turns" (Keylight, 2023) in the new books section of my wonderful local library. The main character, Ana, has been called (by writer Helen Simonson), aptly, "a modern-day Mrs. Dalloway," and is clearly intended by Gornick as such. In this novel, as in Virginia Woolf's "Mrs. Dalloway" (one of my very favorite and most admired novels), we read the story of the day of a woman, with many flashbacks to, and thoughts on, the complicated events and relationships she has experienced. Both novels lead up to a dinner party. Along the way in "Ana Turns," as 60-year-old Ana moves about in current-day New York, we learn of her complex family history, her lovers, her friends. Gornick expertly interweaves these various actors and actions, vividly painting one woman's life, a life that will resonate with the lives of many contemporary women. I was so enchanted with "Ana Turns" that I then found and read two of Gornick's earlier books. "Louisa Meets Bear" (Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2015), is a novel that is formed by a set of interlinked stories in which it is not at first clear what the connections are among the stories, but gradually (almost) all is revealed. The third Gornick book I read was "The Peacock Feast" (Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2019). As with the other two books, this novel is not at all linear, but roams back and forth in time over a century, focusing on a now almost-100-year-old woman, Prudence, and her family history, mostly in New York City and environs, but with visits to Europe and elsewhere. Also as with the other narratives, the family history holds both great love and great troubles. Readers must be patient as the various plot lines are untangled, but this is not onerous and is part of the pleasure of the books. What a brilliant writer Gornick is, drawing us into her stories, making us wonder and speculate and, in at least one instance for this reader, weep. I highly recommend all three books. (Oh, and yes, the author is, as I wondered about and then found out with a little online research, the niece of feminist essayist/memoirist/literary critic Vivian Gornick, a writer whose work I have long admired and treasured; see my posts of 10/15/15 and 3/28/20.)

"Fourteen Days," edited by Margaret Atwood and Douglas Preston

Although many people feel that we are now beyond the COVID pandemic, it is still with us, and there are an increasing number of novels about it. "Fourteen Days" (Harper, 2024) describes the first two weeks after the lockdown was declared in New York City in March 2020. The unusual thing about the book -- besides the topic -- is that it is subtitled "A Collaborative Novel" and is co-authored by 36 prominent writers, such as Celeste Ng, Tommy Orange, Dave Eggers, Ishmael Reed, Scott Turow, and Meg Wolitzer (and edited by Margaret Atwood and Douglas Preston), and that the individual pieces/chapters do not reveal which was written by which author (although one can find this information in the back of the book). The premise of the book is that the residents of a rundown apartment building start to gather on the rooftop, the only place they can get fresh air while socially distancing. Gradually, these characters start telling stories, some eagerly and some reluctantly, about very different topics at different time periods and in very different styles. The effect is to draw the residents together, although many are still wary of each other. The stories are almost all very compelling, for the participants as well as for us, the readers. The collection of stories, the ways they are told, and the relationships among the tellers, are reminiscent of The Canterbury Tales and the Decameron. We are also reminded of other storytelling situations through history, especially those in the midst of difficult, precarious times. Part of the appeal here is the confluence of the various characters and stories with the current dilemma they all share, as they are trapped by the pandemic, and are surrounded by its effects (sirens wailing, refrigerated trucks with bodies, the deterioration of their building and of course the psychological impacts of it all). I wasn't quite sure how I would respond to this book, but I found myself completely drawn into it; it is truly -- despite the terrible events -- enthralling reading.

RIP Alice Munro

A great light has gone out. Generally acknowledged to be one of the best short story writers ever, the Canadian writer Alice Munro died yesterday. She was 92 years old. She was highly lauded by many, and received many awards, including the Nobel Prize in Literature in 2013. Most of her stories are set in rural Ontario, which is where Munro lived for most of her life, and most often focus on women in that milieu. She has been compared to fellow short story writers Katherine Anne Porter and Raymond Carver. Fellow writers have praised her highly. Edna O'Brien ranked her with William Faulkner and James Joyce as influences on her work. Cynthia Ozick called her "our Chekhov." (I drew on today's New York Times article/obituary, by Anthony DePalma, for some of the above.) I have long read and loved Munro's stories (and her one novel, which she later said was more a series of linked stories); her work is so very original, powerful, psychologically astute, and perceptive. I have posted about her work here (e.g., on 7/22/10, 12/6/12, 10/10/13, and 8/3/14). What I have written today seems vastly inadequate, but I hope readers either already know her work, or will seek it out.

Why I Read Sports Stories: Because they are STORIES

Some readers may be surprised to hear that I am a big fan of certain sports, in particular NBA basketball, and most especially my hometown team, the Golden State Warriors. During the ten-plus years that I have been enthusiastically following the Warriors, I have somehow also gone from tepid interest in the sports played at my own and my daughter's former schools to becoming somewhat more interested in sports in general. One indication of this development is that although for decades I had no interest in the sports section of the newspaper, and would immediately put it in recycling (after my husband had read it), I gradually became more interested in reading the Sporting Green of the San Francisco Chronicle, as well as other sources of sports news. I followed tennis a bit since my husband played tennis and was a huge fan of professional tennis. I always watched at least some of the Olympics. I was pleased as women's sports developed and became more prominent on the scene. I became increasingly interested in stories about several sports, although my main sports focus was and still is the Warriors. Readers will not be surprised to hear that I especially like sports news that covers not only the scores and descriptions of the games/competitions, but the human angles, the stories behind the stories. And that leads me to my main point here: good sports writing has all the pleasures of fiction or memoir, in that there are intriguing characters, plots, and settings; there is suspense; there are wonderful turns of phrases and descriptive passages; there are various compelling writing styles. Good sports writing informs and entertains us, and makes us care. Of course many, perhaps most of the stories are about the competitions themselves, not only who won, but by how much, and in what ways, and with what surprises. But there are also stories about the developments experienced by an athlete or team throughout a season, and throughout the years (changes in ownership, owners who are willing to spend a lot and those who are not, moves to different cities, dynasties). There are profiles of individual athletes, including their family backgrounds (Whose parent was also a player? Who recently got married or divorced? Who has adorable small children who occasionally pop up at press events?). Also their lives (Who sails a boat to work every day? Who is a basketball superstar who has also won golf tournaments? Who does a lot of philanthropy? Who is featured in many commercials? Who crashed his car?), their reputations (the leader, the role model, the quiet one, the rebel, the one who plays dirty), their quirks. And there are stories about the relationships among the players as well as the coaches, referees, and other relevant personnel (Who gets along with whom? Who is competitive with whom? Who feels the coach is not being fair to him? Who thinks the referees are out to get him?). Some stories come out of left field (so to speak!), such as the recent one about a Japanese baseball superstar whose translator has, it turns out, been stealing millions from him to pay his gambling debts. And of course there is much speculation about the future (Who will be kept on the team? Who will be sent back to the minor leagues? Who will be traded? Who will be a a starter? Who will retire? Which team has a good chance to win it all next year, and which must be content with rebuilding?) I find so many of these stories to be compelling. I also appreciate the high quality writing of (in addition to sports reporters) excellent sports columnists, who provide a combination of news and commentary. For example, we who read the San Francisco Chronicle are fortunate to have excellent longtime sports columnists, especially Ann Killion and Scott Ostler. So, in conclusion: Sports stories are STORIES, like other forms of stories, and that is why, although I am far from athletic myself, I am a regular, even passionate, reader and fan of those stories.

The Ruth Gallagher mystery novels, by Elly Griffiths

I won't belabor here, yet again, my lifelong on-and-off relationship with mystery novels. But I will say that I have just had a prolonged "on" period, reading the Ruth Galloway mystery novels of Elly Griffiths. These were recommended to me by my dear friend Mary V., and once I started reading the series (in order, of course!), I couldn't stop! I have now read all fifteen novels in the series, ending with "The Last Remains" (Mariner Books, 2023), which Griffiths has told us is the final book in the series. I wish there were more! Ruth Galloway is an archeologist and professor, and is often consulted by the police when they find bodies buried, sometimes ancient and sometimes recent, as happens often -- at least according to these novels -- near the sea in Norfolk, England, where there is so much history and so much mysterious, even mythic, atmosphere. I like Ruth, who is smart and accomplished, confident yet modest and unpretentious. She loves her cottage in the marshlands and her cats. She is good with people but really loves solitude as well. She has an unplanned but dearly loved young daughter with DCI (Detective Chief Inspector) Harry Nelson, the result of a brief affair, but as he is married, they have an unsettled relationship except for sharing a love of that daughter, and except for working together on many cases where police work and archeology overlap. Let's say their relationship is "complicated." There are other interesting and believable characters in the novels, such as Ruth's friend the druid Cathbad, her other friends, her lovers, her colleagues at the university where she teaches, and Nelson's family members and detective colleagues. A real bonus of this series is that if one reads several or all of the books, one has the pleasure of seeing the characters and storylines develop, although each book also stands alone. The mysteries are well-plotted and intelligent, and in each one I learn (in a non-didactic, "goes down easy" way) interesting things about areas of England, about English history, mythology, architecture, and culture, and how English police departments work, as well as, of course, about archeology. I highly recommend this mystery series.

"Banyan Moon," by Thao Thai

My friend SM, who recently recommended the novel "Bellies," by Nicola Dinan, to me (see my post of 1/27/24), also recommended "Banyan Moon" (Mariner Books, 2023), by Thao Thai. This is a novel about three generations of Vietnamese American women and their fraught histories and complex relationships with each other. Although Minh and Hoang originally came to the U.S. from Vietnam in the wake of the "Vietnam War," the bulk of the book is set in the Florida family home, Banyan House, where the grandmother, Minh, lived and died, and where the mother, Huong, who lives nearby, and her daughter, Ann, who lives in Michigan, came back after Minh's death. These three women had all had difficult relationships with men, and with each other. The two older women each raised a daughter mostly on her own, and now Ann is possibly on the same path. The novel is about family, but family greatly complicated by historical, cultural and social forces. Each chapter is told by one of the three women; we see their different perspectives and learn about the devastating secrets that formed them and divided them. "Banyan Moon" is at times painful to read, as readers are taken on a difficult journey through the family's history, individually and collectively. But despite the elements of anger, misunderstanding, and self-protection, there are also threads of fierce love throughout. This is a powerful and compelling book, one which I am glad I have read.

Three (More) Books about Loss and Grief (by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, Paul Auster, and Joan Didion)

Regular readers of this blog know that my beloved husband died just over two years ago, and that since then I have read quite a few books about loss, grief, and mourning. I have posted about some of these (e.g., 2/22/22, 12/1/22, 2/24/23, 11/7/23, 11/15/23). Reading these books is always painful, and at first I could not read them, but after some time I found that they were sometimes comforting, in the sense of connecting me with others' experiences of loss, and experiencing the universality and community of bereavement and grief. I have just read three more books about grief, and will describe each one very briefly here. Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie's "Notes on Grief" (Knopf, 2021) is a slim volume, an acute cry of pain at the recent death of her dear father, one which also celebrates the person and father he was. "Baumgartner" (Grove, 2023) is a novel by Paul Auster in which the title character deeply mourns his wife Anna, who died nine years before, and cannot seem to get past his grief and pain. Auster explores the intertwining of pain and happy memories, and the nature of memory itself. The third book is one I read almost twenty years ago, soon after the death of my dear father: Joan Didion's "The Year of Magical Thinking" (Knopf, 2005; Vintage, 2007), about the death of her husband John Gregory Dunne (and the illness and later death of her daughter Quintana, about whose death Didion later wrote a book titled "Blue Nights," which I have also read). I was struck at that time by Didion's description of her feelings and actions during the year or so after her husband's sudden death, many of which resonated with me about my father's death, especially such aspects as disbelief/denial, numbness and confusion. I tried to re-read the book about a year ago, but just couldn't; I have just now finally read it again, and found it as powerful and resonant as ever, now in light of the profound loss of my husband of decades. Among other aspects that Didion describes well is the terrible tangible loss of the dailiness, the ongoing conversations and habits, of a long-married couple's life. These two nonfiction books and one novel are all extremely difficult and sad to read, but also insightful and reassuring in a strange way: they remind us that although each death is unique, it is also part of all deaths, and that all mourners have many things in common. We who are left behind are part of a huge community of the bereaved, those who are grieving loved ones.

"Season of the Witch," by David Talbot

I was absolutely blown away by "Season of the Witch: Enchantment, Terror, and Deliverance in the City of Love" (Free Press, 2012), by David Talbot. The story of the city of San Francisco from the mid-1960s to the mid-1980s, the book is riveting: well-researched, well-written, well-shaped, propulsive, full of vivid details, and shot through with the thesis that what happened in San Francisco was, on the one hand, unique, and on the other hand, a sort of representation of trends that would reverberate throughout the United States. Among the many events and themes covered are the rise and fall of the Haight Ashbury district, the pioneering music scene, the freedom that the city provided to many who fled the Midwest and other parts of the country, the home that S.F. provided for gays and lesbians, the best and the worst of city politics, the Patty Hearst kidnapping, the Jim Jones/Guyana tragedy, the assassinations of Mayor George Moscone and Supervisor Harvey Milk, the scourge of AIDS and the ways in which S.F. pioneered compassionate treatment and care and support of sufferers of the disease. My connection to the time period and events of the book, as a resident of San Francisco for a good part of the period covered, was obviously one reason for my appreciation of and enthusiasm about the book. Reading this book brought back many memories, and at the same time provided new information and details that I hadn't known at the time. Although the book was published in 2012, and the events covered are only up to the mid-1980s, and although San Francisco has changed in many ways since that time period, the city and its residents are still, whether we/they realize it or not, influenced by the powerful events and trends of that time period. I thank my brother P., who was also a resident of San Francisco during a large part of this time period, for recommending this book to me. I think anyone who lives in, or has lived in, S.F./the Bay Area, would be caught up in this book, as would other readers in or from other places who will recognize the profound and widespread consequences of what Talbot describes in "The Season of the Witch."

The Ten Best Books I Read in 2023

Most years, I have posted on this blog a list of "the best books" or "my favorite books" that I have read during those years. Today I list the ten best books, in my opinion, that I read during the calendar year 2023. Most, but not all, of the books were also published in that year. I list the books in the order that I posted on them here, with the date of each post in parentheses. 1. "Signal Fires," by Dani Shapiro (2022) (novel) (see my post of 2/2/23). 2. "Hello Beautiful," by Ann Napolitano (2023) (novel) (5/13/23). 3. "You Could Make This Place Beautiful," by Maggie Smith (not THAT Maggie Smith) (2022) (memoir) (6/12/23). 4. "Lives of the Wives: Five Literary Marriages," by Carmela Ciuraru (2023) (biography) (7/4/23). 5. "Tom Lake," by Ann Patchett (2023) (novel) (8/13/23). 6. "A Life of One's Own: Nine Women Novelists Begin Again," by Joanna Biggs (2023) (biography) (8/30/23). 7. "Somebody's Fool," by Richard Russo (2023) (novel) (9/24/23). 8. "All Things Consoled," by Elizabeth Hay (2018) (memoir) (10/14/23). 9. "A Living Remedy," by Nicole Chung (2023) (memoir) (11/7/23). 10. "Day," by Michael Cunningham" (2023) (novel) (12/12/23). Although novels will always remain my first love in reading, I notice that this year my list tilts more heavily to memoir and biography than usual. I also note that as usual I have read more books by women authors than by men. (I do not claim that books by women are "better," only that they very often appeal to me more, and often I can relate to them more.)

"Onlookers," by Ann Beattie

How could I forget about Ann Beattie? I have been reading her fiction, especially her stories (for which she is most known) for decades. Perhaps I haven't thought of her recently because I have seen fewer of her stories in The New Yorker, where she used to publish regularly? In any case, when I saw that she had a new story collection, "Onlookers" (Scribner, 2023), I was delighted, and immediately requested a copy at my wonderful local library. I have just finished it, and (mostly) liked it very much. There are six stories, each quite long, and the stories are somewhat interrelated (although mostly peripherally, just enough to establish that many people in the city are acquainted with each other), but each stands on its own. All the stories are set in Charlottesville, Virginia, before, during and after the time of the tragic, shocking white nationalist rally in 2017, in which one woman was killed and other people were injured. Intertwined with this event was and is the controversy over the Confederate monuments in the town, most notably the statue of General Robert E. Lee on his horse, and whether these statues should be removed. (Eventually that statue and others were removed.) The stories in "Onlookers" are, as suggested by the title, not directly about that rally or those statues, but about the lives of people who lived in Charlottesville and how they were affected by the events and issues, directly or, more often, indirectly. Without being didactic, Beattie makes readers confront the continuing presence of racism and the lasting effects of the Civil War, and the way those historical and current elements of American society infect and contradict the reputation of beauty and gentility in a city such as Charlottesville, and by extension in the larger society. As always, Beattie's characters are intriguing, vivid, often anxious, sometimes eccentric, imperfect, but usually understandable and often relatable. One common theme is the decline of many of the characters of old age, illness, incipient dementia, and sometimes just exhaustion; their caregivers are also vividly portrayed. Beattie's writing in this book is as good as that in any of her books. How fortunate we readers are to have had the gift of her 22 books (so far!)

"Bellies," by Nicola Dinan

When my friend SM recommends a book, I listen. Over the years, I have written here about several books she recommended to me. Today I write about a novel she recently spoke highly of: "Bellies" (Hanover Square Press, 2023), by Nicola Dinan. This novel is the kind I most like: about relationships. In this case, the relationships include those among friends, lovers, and sometimes family members. The two main characters here are Tom and Ming, two young men who meet in college and are both friends and lovers. They have a group of friends who have various gender and sexual identities. There is also an international context to their story, as they mainly live in London, but Ming is from Malaysia, and part of the story takes place there. Tom's and Ming's relationship is changed and complicated when Ming, who had earlier dated women, then men, begins transitioning to female. Tom and Ming truly care for each other, and continue to be a couple for a while, but their time together becomes more complex, more fraught, as they try to find their way through these evolving identities and circumstances. These two young people and their friends live in a world of privilege but at the same time of uncertainty and vulnerability. The novel is original and absorbing, and made me think about the complex intertwined identity issues portrayed. But the author never uses the characters just as examples of certain identities; they are distinct and mostly relatable young people whom the reader can empathize with.

"The Faraway World" and "Infinite Country," by Patricia Engel

"The Faraway World"(Avid Reader Press, 2023), by Patricia Engel, is a slim collection of stories about characters from Latin America (mostly Colombia and Cuba), some of these characters living there, others having emigrated to the United States (mostly to New York City and surroundings), and still others moving back and forth between the two continents, never really settling in one or the other. The front flap summary speaks of the stories' confronting "the myriad challenges of exile and diaspora," and although this description would fit many other books about migration as well, and is in fact one of the great themes of contemporary literature, this one stands out. It contains gritty, concrete details set in the midst of more amorphous dreams and hopes. Success, failure, separation, longing, poverty, struggles, family issues, religion, loss, compromise, triumph, and death are all portrayed, and it is heartbreaking to see the ways in which many characters have learned to accept their difficult, second-best life situations, knowing or at least feeling that they have no real choice. Yet there is a pulse of irrepressible life and quiet but unbreakable strength throughout. The characters are vivid and their stories are compelling. After reading this 2023 story collection, I sought out Engel's 2021 novel, "Infinite Country" (also from Avid Reader Press), which contains many of the same themes as the stories, but in more expansive form. This novel tells the story of one family originally from Colombia who emigrate to the U.S. and then, through the years, becomes split up between Colombia and the U.S., mostly because of improper documentation. Two of Mauro and Elena's three children are born in the U.S. and thus are citizens; the rest of the family do not have the correct papers. Much of the story is not only about their separation, but also about their family history, their grounding in Colombian culture and yet their dismay about the civil wars and dangerous conditions there, and their divided loyalties. The novel also sounds a note of elegy in that it tells of ancient myths and beliefs, yet mourns the disappearing relevance of those cultural touchstones. The book is complex, almost poetic in style, at times deeply sad, and yet also deeply involving.

Everything I Learned, I Learned in a Chinese Restaurant," by Curtis Chin

The memoir "Everything I Learned, I Learned in a Chinese Restaurant" (Little Brown, 2023) is cleverly framed in the context of the Chinese restaurant that author Curtis Chin's family owned and operated in Detroit. Within that framing, we follow the growing up of Chin and his siblings, in the contexts of their extended family, the restaurant, the troubled city of Detroit, and the racial and cultural issues that affected the family and the United States. We also get glimpses of the history of the family and more generally of Chinese immigrants to the U.S., plus their ABC (American-born Chinese) offspring. A major theme too is the memoirist's discovery of his gay sexuality, and his long, hesitant process of coming out, especially to his family. This author, now a writer and documentary filmmaker, has a direct, candid, appealing, and at times humorous style. Despite some very normal muted clashes with some family members at times, Chin obviously deeply loves his family, and loves the restaurant that was such a huge focus of their family life. He also clearly loves the dishes that are served in the restaurant, and his descriptions of the food are often quite detailed. This memoir is an engaging read.

"Temple Folk," by Aaliyah Bilal

Portrayals in fiction of the experiences of Black Muslims in the United States, with their particular history and faith, are not very common. For that reason alone, Aaliyah Bilal's story collection, "Temple Folk" (Simon & Schuster, 2023) is welcome. In addition, the stories are revealing, even illuminating. They are also beautifully written, insightful, and engaging. Most of the stories focus on strong and complex women, especially young women, who are figuring out how to live as part of the religion and at the same time, as part of mainstream America. Some of the characters are very devout, some have found a balance between devotion and flexibility, and some have become disillusioned with aspects of the faith. Bilal shows both positive and problematic aspects of the religion and culture and leaders. She immerses us in the world she portrays. As with all such fictional deep dives into the many and diverse religious, racial, and ethnic cultures in the United States, there are particular terms, words, vocabulary items used; I like that these are generally not explicitly defined or explained, but readers who are not already familiar with the vocabulary are able to figure out the meanings from the contexts. This story collection, Bilal's first, offers readers the gift of glimpses into a particular U.S. culture, as well as more generally into human nature and interactions among vividly drawn characters.