"Long Bright River," by Liz Moore

Some months ago, I tried to read Liz Moore's bestselling mystery novel, "The God of the Woods" (2024). From the descriptions and reviews, I thought I would like it, but I didn't get very far into it before realizing I did not, and I stopped reading it. So when a colleague, CP, who teaches in Michigan, wrote on Facebook about how much she liked one of Moore's earlier mystery novels, "Long Bright River" (Riverhead, 2020), I thought I would check it out, especially since I was starting to read a few mysteries again. (Regular readers of this blog may remember that I have dipped into and out of mysteries over the years: I am not sure what brings on each phase -- which may last months or years -- or what ends it, but it happens over and over again.) I found that "Long Bright River" was a good balance of the mystery aspect and the context of the mystery: the setting, the characters, the relationships, and other literary matters. To me, a good mystery must have this balance; reading just to find out "whodunit" is not very satisfying, if that is basically all there is. In this novel, the main draw for me was the characters, especially the main character, Mickey, a police officer who is very concerned about her sister Kacey. The sisters grew up together in a less than ideal situation, and were very close. But since early adolescence, Kacey has gotten into various types of trouble, and Mickey wants to find and help her. Meanwhile, Mickey herself, a complex and mostly admirable character, is dealing with her fellow police officers, for better or for worse, and is also raising her young son as a single mom. For most of the novel, she is focusing on solving the murders of young women who are on the streets and doing drugs, and is fearful for her own sister. Themes of family, sisterhood, relationships, exploitation, drugs -- and yes, love -- run through the book.

"Care and Feeding," by Laurie Woolever -- a restaurant world memoir

I apologize for the long gap in posting. I just finished reading a fascinating if sometimes painful to read memoir, "Care and Feeding" (Ecco, 2025), by Laurie Woolever. The author has worked a long time in various aspects of the restaurant/fine dining industry, from cooking and serving to writing about the restaurant world in various publications. After some autobiography of her early years, the book focuses on her years as an assistant to, at different points, two of the most famous American chefs, Mario Batali and Anthony Bourdain. Some readers who are interested in the restaurant world will know that Batali was difficult to work with at times, and his restaurant days ended badly when he was exposed as a sexual harasser and abuser. Bourdain was a much more congenial person to work for/with (Woolever also wrote two books with Bourdain). He had his issues, and was sometimes demanding, but was kind and considerate and respectful as well. Sadly, after an extremely successful career as a chef, author, TV host, and more, he shocked the food world by committing suicide. Woolever has had her own issues throughout the years, related to insecurities, addictions and problems in her relationships, and she reveals these issues unsparingly. I applaud her for her candid writing. Her descriptions of her life are detailed and sometimes hard to read. There were times when I was reading this book that I wanted to urgently advise her to change some of her unhealthy habits (addictions, relationships, etc.). But she is clearly also extremely talented, competent, and thoughtful, and in recent years she has gained control over most of her less-than-healthy habits, has had a loving relationship with her son, has continued her career in the food world, and has reached a level of peace. For anyone who is interested in the world of fine dining and its characters and events, this book should be on the "must read" list.

"The Eights," by Joanna Miller

"The Eights" (Putnam, 2025), Joanna Miller's first novel, is the story of four young women who are members of Oxford University's first class of women who can actually earn degrees there. The year is 1920, and though women have been allowed to attend classes before, this right to earn degrees is an historic breakthrough. These four women, like all the citizens of the UK, have just been through World War I and its aftermath. Some of them volunteered in the war effort in various ways; some lost brothers and sweethearts during the war. The four women reside in the same section of the living quarters at St. Hugh's College, a women's college at Oxford, and they become an inseparable foursome, a sort of sisterhood. Despite their closeness, though, they each have secrets that they do not share until they have known each other for quite a while. The novel weaves together the various strands affecting these young women: the postwar memories and atmosphere, the academic life, the forwarding of women's rights, friendship, ambitions, romance, and the secrets that they carry. As a (now retired) woman academic myself, I have seen how even in the past few decades, women students and professors have struggled, and are still struggling, more than 100 years since the time period of this book, to gain true equality; although the discrimination may be less blatant, it is still there. This novel is both informative on historical matters and enjoyable to read.

Two Grief Memoirs by Writers Elizabeth Alexander and Geraldine Brooks

After the death of my husband over three years ago, I accumulated a stack of books about loss and grief. Some I read or at least skimmed, others I did not. Some were helpful, others were not. I have posted here about some of them. I have just read two more, both memoirs: "The Light of the World" (Grand Central, 2015), by the well-known poet Elizabeth Alexander, and "Memorial Days" (Viking, 2025) by the also well-known novelist Geraldine Brooks. I appreciate other types of grief-related books, but I am especially drawn to memoirs such as these two. In each case, the author lost her beloved husband suddenly. In both cases, the authors struggle with how to live their new lives without their husbands. Each of them alternates, in her chapters, among writing about the shocking event itself, the story of her past life with her husband, and the story of her slow and painful path to some kind of acceptance and path forward. As Alexander and Brooks are both gifted writers, their writing has a literary quality, filled with reflections, descriptions, and details that give readers access to the writers' (and consequently, at least somewhat, to the readers' own), deepest emotions and most acutely felt experiences. Both writers are generous in sharing with readers these intensely painful (but sometimes joyful in remembrance) feelings. In the tradition of, among others, fellow widowed writers Joan Didion and Joyce Carol Oates, their natural inclination is to try to process (that soulless but apt term) their grief through writing about it. Further, as in the cases of amany other grief memoirs, the books serve as loving tributes to the writers' late husbands. And they give readers, especially bereaved readers, a sense of connection and relatedness, and sometimes a bit of consolation and hope.

"What I Ate in One Year," by Stanley Tucci

I admire Stanley Tucci as an actor; most recently he was terrific in the film "Conclave," which now has extra resonance since the death of the Pope a few days ago. He also has a whole other career as a food writer, TV food program host, and in other food-related projects. I posted here about his earlier book "Taste," which I very much liked, and I have now read his "What I Ate in One Year" (Gallery Books, 2024). The premise and organization of this book, in which Tucci literally tells readers what he ate every day, with one usually short chapter for every day, may sound dull to prospective readers. It definitely is not. The book is in fact a sort of memoir of the year (2023) with a focus on food stories, skillfully and entertainingly woven in with stories about work, family, travels, and friends (some very famous). The stories are engaging, and Tucci's personality comes across as enthusiastic about all of the above. Despite his fame, he appears to be very down-to-earth, even humorously self-deprecating. Tucci is very much a family man, and especially savors cooking for and eating with family members, whether at home or in intriguing restaurants all over the United States and Europe. I suppose one needs to be somewhat of a "foodie" to fully enjoy this book, but only in the way of appreciating good food eaten in good company in interesting places (he especially loves Italy and Italian food). Anyone who loves to eat and, optionally, cook and/or travel, will find plenty to enjoy in this warm and welcoming book.

"Three Days in June," by Anne Tyler

Anne Tyler's novels always feel like old friends. I have been reading her work since the 1970s, and I don't remember ever not loving her work. It is so wise, so humane, so down-to-earth, and also so reliably beautifully written and entertaining. She is on the short list of writers who, the minute I hear that they have a new novel out, I put it on my to-read list and find it as soon as possible. Tyler is now 81 years old, and still writing wonderful novels, including her most recent: "Three Days in June" (Knopf, 2025). This novel is shorter than most of Tyler's. I mention this partly because I have been noticing that some older writers do write shorter novels; see, for example, Anita Desai's recent novels, which I wrote about on my 3/12/25 post. But, as always, as soon as I started reading this novel, I was drawn in, and struck once again by Tyler's knowledge of human nature, as well as by the unassuming, almost conversational tone of her writing. "Three Days in June" is about a family during the days surrounding a family wedding. The family members, like so many, are loving but also have some issues with each other. We recognize both the love and the tension that can and does arise among family members. There are secrets that emerge, misunderstandings, and decisions to be made. Although I am not sure that I was as totally caught up in this novel as I have been with some of Tyler's prior works, this is a high bar; I still loved it, and would not have missed reading it for anything. Tyler's novels are so realistic, so authentic, and they always make me feel that I know a little more about human nature than I did before I read them. And, to be clear, they are enjoyable to read. I would even call them page-turners if that label did not have the negative connotations, the implied lack of seriousness, that it does. What I mean is that once I start reading her work, I cannot stop, because it is wonderful. (Can you tell that I am a BIG fan?)

"Fasting, Feasting," and "Rosarita": Recent(ish) Novels by Anita Desai

Back in the 1980s, I was reading many novels by Indian writers, and/or with Indian settings. This was partly because I spent most of my childhood in India, and partly because during the early 1980s I published in my school's alumni magazine a regular column on such books. One writer's works that I thoroughly enjoyed were those of Anita Desai, who was born and raised in India and has spent most of her adult life in the United States. My favorite novels by Desai included "Clear Light of Day" (1980) and "In Custody" (1984). I somehow didn't read much of Desai's work after that time period. But recently - these decades later! -- I picked up and read two of her new(ish) novels: "Fasting, Feasting" (Houghton Mifflin, 1999) and "Rosarita" (Scribner, 2024). Both, especially "Rosarita" (96 pages), are slim. They are both engaging, and I am glad to have read them. "Fasting, Feasting" is a rather sad novel about what seems to be a dysfunctional family with cultural preferences for sons over daughters, complicated by some learning issues the daughter in this family experiences. The parents are not, I think, purposely cruel, but they have assigned certain stereotypes and roles to the main characters, their daughter Uma and their son Arun. They often mention Uma's limitations, yet don't recognize her strengths, except to assume that she should be almost a servant to the parents. Arun is the academic star who goes to America to study; all resources are given to support him. But he has his own struggles, especially in the United States. Both of them feel that no one understands them. The title has to do with food and feelings: Both Uma and Arun have ambivalent relationships with food, and sometimes see it as a sign of love, or lack thereof. The main characters, including the members of the family and some others whom Uma and Arun meet and are supported by, are brilliantly portrayed. Desai's writing in this book is, as it was in the past, beautiful. "Rosarita" is about a young Indian woman, Bonita, who goes to Mexico to learn Spanish, and soon encounters a woman who claims to have known and become close friends with her mother many years ago. Bonita has no idea that her mother ever took such a trip, although there were episodes when she disappeared from her family's life for stretches of time; no one in the family talks about these times. Bonita is in disbelief, but is gradually drawn in by the stories of the woman, whom she thinks of as the "Trickster." This very short novel is interesting and readable, but I did not like it as much as I liked "Fasting, Feasting" or any of Desai's earlier works.