According to Polish law, a person of Jewish heritage belongs not to Poland but to a Jewish nation. Just when I think I have read as much fiction about the Holocaust as I need to, when I’m sure there can’t be another permutation of the horror and struggle for survival, I’m proven wrong. This time it was the gentle nudging of my blogging friend, Sarah at Sarah’s Book Shelves, ... Read More...
It’s Not You, It’s Me: Mini-Reviews
I haven’t had a great year of reading (until recently), but generally it felt pretty clear that it was the books not working, not me. Except for these two recent reads, which is why they’re It’s Not You, It’s Me books. In both cases, the writing and story were good, but they were missing whatever indefinable element I need to keep me invested. Given the title, it ... Read More...
Lots of Candles, Plenty of Cake
It’s odd when I think of the arc of my life, from child to young woman to aging adult. First I was who I was. Then I didn’t know who I was. Then I invented someone and became her. Then I began to like what I’d invented. And finally I was what I was again. I have been a huge fan of Anna Quindlen’s fiction for decades, but had never read any of her nonfiction until this month, ... Read More...
Beartown by Fredrik Backman
“You can’t live in this town, you can only survive it.” There’s only one thing you need to know about Beartown: hockey. Its people live, eat, and breathe by the laws of hockey. Beyond that there isn’t much to it—only a few steady jobs, no tourists, and surrounded by forest in a part of Sweden where the frigid air of winter only takes a break for a month or two in the summer. ... Read More...
Nonfiction November 2017: Fiction Nonfiction Pairings
The week two event of Nonfiction November is to pair a fiction book with a nonfiction one on a similar subject. Kind of fun for those of us who use our reading as a springboard to learn more about people or events that catch our eye. For me, it is almost always a great novel that makes me want to learn more about its subject. I'm switching it up a bit with books and ... Read More...
The Heart’s Invisible Furies
Cyril Avery’s birth was not a propitious one. He came into the world onto the floor of a tiny apartment, next to the unconscious body of his mother’s roommate, with the roommate’s lover lying dead on the stairs below. It was Ireland in 1945 and the roommate and the lover were also teens, but they were men and as such had been hunted down by one’s father. From this ... Read More...
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