"Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow," by Gabriel Zevin

I never thought I would enjoy reading a novel about video game designers. I have never played a video game, or really, in my adult life, any games at all other than the very occasional card or board game. But the reviews lured me in, and I read Gabrielle Zevin’s 400-page novel, “Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow” (Knopf, 2022) in about two days. The gaming world, or at least this version of it, was more interesting to me than I expected. It was good for me to explore this world so different from my own. But of course the elements that made me read the novel so quickly were the ones I always look for in good fiction: interesting characters, relatable situations, much focus on relationships among the characters, and themes of identity, family, and yes, love in all its varieties. The two main characters, Sadie and Sam, the ones whose games become famous, have known each other since childhood, and have become bonded as friends and something greater than friends, although not lovers. Along with creativity and success, there are bumps, misunderstandings, and even tragedies along the way. But what drew them to each other persists.

Four Novels Recently Read

As regular visitors to this blog might remember, I do not post on all the books I read. Sometimes I have no strong feelings about a certain book; or it is too forgettable; or maybe I am embarrassed to post about a book that is not very literary but is a “guilty pleasure”; or perhaps I have read so many books at that time that I am too far behind to post about each one, even the ones not in the other categories listed above. Occasionally I do what I am about to do now: instead of trying to post a full entry about each book, I “catch up” by listing several books I have recently read and liked, and a very brief summary of and/or response to each one. I liked each of the following four novels very much. So without further ado, in the order I recently read them: 1. “Strangers and Cousins” (Riverhead, 2019), by Leah Hager Cohen, is a novel revolving around the days leading up to and including a wedding at the rural home of one bride’s parents. The events of those days reveal the history of, and relationships among, the family and friends of the two brides. The author beautifully explores the complexities and the joys of close family networks, with all their quirks, missteps and misunderstandings along the way. 2. “Vintage Contemporaries” (Harper, 2023), by Dan Kois, tells a version of a story we have all read: young friends in New York City (here, Emily and Emily, confusingly enough at first but we readers figure it out) are hopeful as they start off their careers and families, have ups and downs in their friendships, yet always feel the pull of those friendships well into their future lives. In this novel, one is a writer, both (but one more than the other) participate in the political process of “squatting” in empty buildings; each eventually finds her own way, and finds her way back to her friend, years later. 3. The story of a young Chinese American woman who leaves her small town in Illinois, and her very difficult relationship with her strict immigrant mother, for a life in New York City, and then returns to Illinois for a visit eight years later with her new fiancé, “Central Places” (Ballantine, 2023), by Delia Cai, is about family, the tug-of-war between first generation immigrants and their children, and another tug-of-war between one’s roots and one’s new chosen life. Love and friendship are also tested in this story. 4. A powerful, even wrenching recounting of two young people who were sent to a conversion camp to “cure” them of being gay, “Tell the Rest” (Akashic, 2023), by Lucy Jane Bledsoe, moves back and forth between, on the one hand, the terrible experiences at that camp and between the two friends who escaped together, and on the other hand, the lives of these two young people as they are in the present, twenty-five years later.

"The Beauty of Dusk," by Frank Bruni

I first came to know Frank Bruni’s writing when he was the restaurant critic for The New York Times, and I savored his clever, vivid reviews. He has also had other writing roles at The New York Times and elsewhere, in addition to writing several books. His new memoir, “The Beauty of Dusk” (Avid Reader, 2022), focuses on the story of a stroke he had that seriously affected his vision. He writes of the treatments he had, the various emotions he went through, and what he learned from the experience (which is ongoing, although now somewhat better). That story is certainly compelling. What makes the book even more of interest is that Bruni interweaves his own story with those of others with similar or related medical situations, and more generally with those of people who have experienced various types of setbacks and challenges in life. He explores how people handle these situations, logistically but especially emotionally and psychologically. He writes quite candidly about his own life, feelings, limitations, and growth. Of course, understandably so, he is sometimes sad, angry, worried, and feels sorry for himself at times. But he also takes the opportunity of his medical problem to learn, to adjust his attitude, to see the positive side of even such injuries, and to develop a sense of appreciation of and gratitude for the many joys of life. This sounds like an “inspirational” self-help book, and there is perhaps a small element of that, but Bruni is too good a writer and thinker, and too generous with his own experiences and feelings, for the book to be put in the “self-help” box. He writes so well that any insights, any epiphanies he has feel so natural as he shares them with us, and seem, quite honestly, like a gift to us, his readers.

On My Faithful Reading of the Sports Section

Readers of this blog may be surprised that I am a faithful reader of the Sports Section of the San Francisco Chronicle, my local newspaper. Until about a dozen years ago, I had no interest in this section, and only a very mild interest in following sports, such as those at my alma mater and those at my daughter’s alma mater. It turned out that my fair-weather fan interest in the San Francisco Giants baseball team – in other words, only when they were winning in the early 2010s – and later and more dramatically in the Golden State Warriors – when they started winning in 2014 – was what made the difference. In particular, I have become an enthusiastic fan of The Warriors, the NBA professional basketball team based in the San Francisco Bay Area. This was, initially, mostly the influence of my late husband, and we enjoyed watching games (on TV) together. I was hooked, and continue to watch quite faithfully. Of course it was exciting when they did so well, and won four championships in the past eight years. So although in the past I would pass the sports section to my husband, or if he was not there, sometimes just put it directly into the recycling pile (yes, I read the newspaper in old-fashioned print!), I now turn to it first (maybe after a quick glance at the headlines, which I return to later). I read about the Warriors in particular, but I find myself reading about other sports as well, even sports I dislike (American football!). I especially like the stories about the human interest side of sports, such as profiles of players, discussion of controversies, and columns on political and social aspects of sports. To tie this back to my general love of reading, especially novels, memoirs, and biographies: I see the same main thread of my interest in characters, plots, themes that sports stories share with fiction and memoir. They are all stories about people and life, and I never tire of those!

Still more on author Dani Shapiro

I have taken a deep, deep dive into the work of Dani Shapiro, within a short period of time. Often when I like a book, I very soon read others by the same author. With Dani Shapiro’s work, I have done so more systematically than usual. I have now read all of her novels and all of her memoirs. (Earlier posts here about her work include those of 8/14/11, 9/7/17, 2/2/23, and 2/16/23.) All of her work is compelling, even gripping. Of particular interest are the ways in which she has taken the events and feelings of her own life and used them not only in the memoirs, but also in the novels. I don’t mean they are exactly the same, but similar themes come up over and over again. The biggest theme is that of difficult families and childhoods, and in particular, extremely difficult mothers, and the lifelong consequences of these for daughters. The plots of the novels are different, but there is an immediately recognizable world found in both the memoirs and the novels, especially since I (for the most part) read the memoirs first and the novels second, although they actually appeared mostly in the opposite order. There is certainly a sense that Shapiro is working out her feelings and issues over and over again in various guises. This might sound off-putting, but it is actually intriguing, and despite their common themes, the books do not feel repetitive.

My on-and-off relationship with mystery novels

Readers who have read this blog for a while know that I have read many, many mystery novels in my life, but that over and over again, since childhood, I have gone through a cycle regarding them. I have loved them, then have gotten tired of them, then somehow started a new phase of reading them. Over and over. (See my posts of 1/27/10, 1/5/16, and 11/12/16 on this topic, for example.) As a refresher: I have gone from the Nancy Drews and Hardy Boys of childhood, through the great classic British novels (some classified as “cozies”) (e.g., by Agatha Christie, Dorothy Sayers, Josephine Tey, and more recently, Elizabeth George), the stories of tough American women detectives (by, e.g., Marcia Muller, Sue Grafton), the historical mysteries (by Jacqueline Winspear, Charles Todd), and many more, including, fairly recently, Deborah Crombie, Louise Penny, and Donna Leon. I also sometimes re-read mysteries that I last read years or decades before (and therefore have conveniently forgotten the solutions to the mysteries). Often, unfortunately, I don’t find the same interest in those favorites of yore. For example, I re-read one or two novels of Josephine Tey and Dorothy Sayers, and did not feel the same about them any more. The exception was re-reading the always-wonderful P.D. James. In the past couple of months, I had one of my resurgences of reading mysteries, focusing on more Tana French novels, and on the Thursday Murder Club series, by Richard Osman. Those were enjoyable to read, but suddenly – I never know when or why this will happen – once again, I got tired of mysteries. By now I have accepted this ebb and flow of my interest in this genre, and the unpredictability of when it ebbs and when it flows. But I always return to mysteries eventually…

Two Books about Loss: "Seeing Ghosts," by Kat Chow, and "A Quiet Life," by Ethan Joella

Books about loss are often difficult to read, especially if one has recently lost a loved one, but are also sometimes comforting. “Seeing Ghosts” (Grand Central Publishing, 2021), by Kat Chow, is a memoir that focuses on the effects on the author of her mother’s death, as well as of all the deaths in the family’s history. The book is about family, history, trauma, and love; it is beautifully written and very evocative. Ethan Joella’s novel “A Quiet Life” (Scribner, 2022) tells the interwoven stories of three characters who have each had serious losses of someone close to them. Each character is vivid and relatable. When their paths cross in various ways, the three find ways to help each other. This is a sad but also hopeful novel, gentle and life-affirming.