Last Post (at least for now)

Dear readers of stephanievandrickreads, I am writing to tell you that after much thought, I have decided to discontinue this blog. There is no major reason (health, etc.), but after 15 years during which I have thoroughly enjoyed writing the blogposts, it feels to me that "It's time." I want to thank everyone who has read the blog, whether regularly or occasionally. Special thanks to Mary V., who gave me the idea of doing the blog in the first place, as well as others who encouraged me to do so. Many thanks too to those of you have written guest blogs. Some of you have told me that you have often used my recommendations when deciding what to read, and this means so much to me. I will always be glad to discuss books with friends of the blog. As far as I know, the blog entries over the past 15 years will remain online for you to browse if/when you feel so inclined. I will also check occasionally for comments. As you will see from the title of this post, I am not definitively closing the door on the blog; I may possibly post something in the future, but if so, not in any regular way. Thank you again, my reading friends! -- With appreciation to all, Stephanie

Guest Post: "The Antidote," by Karen Russell

Today's guest post is written by my friend Sally Mansfield Abbot, the author of "Miami in Virgo," a feminist coming-of-age novel. Set in rural Nebraska during the Dustbowl era, Karen Russell’s "The Antidote" (Knopf, 2025) commingles the lives of some highly original characters. There is Cleo Allfrey, a Black photographer for the New Deal, with a magical camera that photographs the past and the future; Asphodel Oletsky, a 16 year old, six feet tall basketball star; her uncle Harp, a farmer; and a sentient scarecrow with a brain. Then there is the Antidote herself, a prairie witch who absolves the community of its crimes with collective amnesia. First and foremost of these are their collective crimes against the Pawnee, the local Plains Indians. Then there is the malfeasance of a corrupt sheriff . . . But Black Sunday of 1935 reverses all of that. The Antidote can no longer absolve the community of Uz (the U.S.? Oz?), and Nebraska faces a reckoning with history that parallels the grievous damage to the land itself. No longer complicit with their absolution, the Antidote stands to lead them into a reckoning. "The Antidote" is magical realism at its best — revisiting history with a supernatural longhand that reveals the hard truths that traditional history has left out. Russell’s exquisite writing, a continual wonder, powers this masterpiece.

"Pronatalism: Discourses and Counter Discourses," by Sarah Benesch

Why and how are women pressured to have children? Sarah Benesch's brilliant book, "Pronatalism: Discourses and Counter Discourses," explores this important and timely topic. What are the forces in society that push women to become mothers, whether they want to or not, and what are the ways we talk about (in our "discourses and counter discourses") the choices women make in this regard? The author approaches the topic from various angles, including historical, social, cultural, and ideological aspects of pronatalism. Benesch, a well-known scholar of Applied Linguistics, accomplishes the difficult balance of writing a well-researched and revelatory scholarly book that is also very readable and accessible for a more general audience. Each chapter focuses on a different aspect of pronatalism, and I learned from each one. One of my favorite chapters (regular readers of this blog will not be surprised to hear!) is the one on great women authors from the past and present, such as Virginia Woolf, Simone de Beauvoir, Rebecca Solnit, and Ann Patchett, all of whom chose to be childfree. Another favorite, since I am an academic myself, is the chapter on the struggles of academic women when choosing whether to have children. I also appreciate very much Benesch's generosity, in one of the last chapters, in being willing to make herself vulnerable by sharing her own experiences and feelings while she was making the choice about whether to have children. I highly recommend this thoughtful, beautifully written book.

"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.

"Miss Kim Knows: And Other Stories," by Cho Nam-Joo

"Miss Kim Knows: And Other Stories" (Liveright, 2024), by the Korean writer Cho Nam-Joo and translated into English by Jamie Chang, is an initially seemingly unassuming collection of stories that soon draw the reader in with their unexpected turns of events and revelations of character. I relished the (usually subtle) element of surprise, often slyly expressed. The stories focus on Korean women of various ages and stations in life. They are mostly written in the first person, often in a blunt voice, so we feel the character is speaking directly to us, but doesn't actually care about our opinions of her or of the stories she is telling us. Many of the stories at least indirectly allude to or illuminate ways in which women have less agency, less status, in society and in relationships. Yet the women mostly have a spark, a self-assurance, that works against what society attempts to impose on them. I like that there are some stories which show the strong bonds among women, such as a story about a woman and her mother-in-law who become very close after one's husband, who is the other's son, dies. This is a short book, just over 200 pages, but it is packed with revelatory moments as well as being subtly humorous at times.

The Best Books I Read in 2024

As I do almost every year, here I list the best books (in my opinion) out of the many that I read in 2024 (although in some cases they were published earlier). This year I have chosen 11 books for the list. After each title, I give in parentheses the genre, the year, and the date of the blogpost I wrote on that book, in case you want more information. The list is in order of those blogpost dates (NOT ranked). 1. "Onlookers" (stories, 2023), by Ann Beattie (2/6/24); 2. "Season of the Witch: Enchantment, Terror, and Deliverance in the City of Love" (cultural history, 2012), by David Talbot (2/24/24); 3. "The Year of Magical Thinking" (memoir, 2005) (a re-read for me), by Joan Didion (3/2/24); 4. "Banyan Moon" (novel, 2023), by Thao Thai (3/14/24); 5. "Fourteen Days" (group-written novel of episodes, 2024), edited by Margaret Atwood and Douglas Preston (5/20/24); 6. "Ana Turns" (novel, 2023), by Lisa Gornick (6/5/24); 7. "Real Americans" (novel, 2024), by Rachel Khong (6/13/24); 8. "Long Island" (novel, 2024), by Colm Toibin (6/23/24); 9. "Old Lovegood Girls" (novel, 2020), by Gail Godwin (10/5/24); 10. "The Wren, the Wren" (novel, 2023), by Anne Enright (10/24/24); 11. "Tell Me Everything" (novel, 2024), by Elizabeth Strout (11/12/24). PS Although the above list is in order of postings, NOT ranked, I will mention here that my very favorite book on the list, and of the year 2024, is "Tell Me Everything," by Elizabeth Strout, with Colm Toibin's "Long Island" a close second.

"Family Reservations," by Liza Palmer

A mother and three competitive daughters. (Queen Lear rather than King Lear?) The elite world of fine dining, also ultra-competitive. A Marin County (where I live) setting. The combination sounds perfect to this fan of family stories, restaurant stories, and settings very familiar to me. Well, "Family Reservations" (get it?) (Lake Union, 2024), by Liza Palmer, is an absorbing novel, definitely, but with painfully sharp edges. The famous restaurant owner Maren Winter (the last name is perhaps too much on the nose) is ruthless, has always controlled everything in her restaurant/professional life and in her daughters' lives, and makes sure that anyone who crosses her will pay, even her own daughters. I found this novel fascinating, but at the same time I found myself wincing and cringing many times as I read it. The four women (mother and daughters) distrust and compete with each other, and are sometimes outright cruel to each other. Consequently, the novel is at times difficult to read. But throughout, there are faint, mostly-hidden signs that underneath everything, there is also love among them. I will leave you to guess how it all turns out. Despite my wincing and cringing, I somehow enjoyed the book, and if you like family stories and restaurant settings, you might too.

"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.