Day 2,182, Quasi-Quarantine: "Tom's Crossing" Traverses Genres Like Terrain In Sprawling Western

“For everyone there is reserved a great journey.

That include the dead? Kalen asked his friend.

Especially the dead.

I’ll remember that.

The journey don’t count unless you finish it.

We’ll finish it.

I’ll remember that, Tom said.”

Mark Z. Danielewski's sprawling epic is like nothing you'll ever read -- part Western, part romance, part horror, part procedural, part ghost story. "Tom's Crossing" evokes the best of Cormac McCarthy with an added supernatural spice.

“Kalin March was a dead-end kid who kept ridin into dead ends that couldn’t put an end to him.”

“That was Tom, one moment a river, the next, a cat, why not a goat. Whether feathered, scaled, clawed, or a current on earth or above it, he was allways wild beyond us. Wild inhabited him, and endless laughter was the result, because he was forever. For a moment at least.”

The author certainly makes you work for it: dense descriptions, archaic words, meandering soliloquies, and a lengthy roster of characters. The coincidences and eccentricities add up in the story, as an unlikely number of Orvop natives ended up living in foreign lands and dying in really strange ways, and Old Porch is let off the hook despite overwhelming evidence.

“But Kalin refused to let go of Tom, maybe not seein that it weren’t a dyin boy’s hand no more that he grasped but a rope of the severest kind and he was already hung up on the darkest beast of all.”

Based on Mount Timpanagos in Utah (a place that I've actually been), the book offers some interesting observations about the Mormon faith that hit close to home. A suspension of disbelief is required as well, on more than a few occasions.

However, the author renders the developing rapport between Kalin and Landry with the care it deserves. The tale celebrates their connection, but acknowledges that both lost something fundamental about themselves somewhere along the way.

“Because the price we pay for experience, the price that alters us permanent, can be paid only if we go beyond the limits of who we thought we were. Only then can we realize how we were all along someone else.”

Danielewski makes bold narratives choices, and the decision to switch to first person near the end was jarringly effective. His ability to blend the beautiful and melancholy with uncommon skill has resulted in an instant classic that is sure to be studied and appreciated for years.

“I’m still scared, Kalin.”

“Good. And now that you’ve said it, be done with it.”

“Landry kept chewin on the inside of a cheek. She liked the words even if they didn’t help.

“For these horses, right? she asked.

“Kalin looked at her real steady, and longer than he’d ever looked at her before, maybe longer than anyone had looked at her. Especially like that. 

“It ain’t good enuf to wanna be free, Kalin told her then, but in that way like all the embers he guarded deep in his heart to keep his life warm he was now givin over to her. Every dang livin thing wants to be free. It’s elemental I reckon. But like my momma taught me, and it’s how I see things too: to matter you gotta set free someone that ain’t you. That’s all that matters.

“And that applies to horses?

“World won’t matter for spit if there ain’t no horses.”

Scooter & Hum's Top Five Books Of The Year 2025

Needing the gift of escapism even more than ever, I set a goal of 37 books in 2025, with the idea being to focus on longer, deeper books. However, I ended up reading 41 in all, to the tune of 15,937 pages (more than 1,200 pages more than the previous year), with the shortest book checking in at 128 pages and the longest at 1,318. 

As always, I went back and forth a bit on my top five, and as a general note, I was fortunate enough to find a number of tremendous non-fiction books this year.

Without further ado ...

1. "The End of the Myth," by Greg Grandin

What I Wrote Then

What I Say Now: 

Grandin does meticulous research in outlining the chronology of the nation's founding. By documenting our country's long reliance on myths and brutality, the author unequivocally decimates the entire concept of American exceptionalism.

Passages to Remember: 

“It’s America’s new myth, a monument to the final closing of the frontier. It is a symbol of a nation that used to believe that it had escaped history, or at least strode atop history, but now finds itself trapped by history, and of a people who used to think they were captains of the future, but now are prisoners of the past.”

“There’s nothing united about these States anymore, except Standard Oil and discontent. We’re no longer a small people living and dying for a great idea; we’re a big people living and dying for money.”

~Owen Wister

“Increasingly politicized elites began to invest vast sums in any intellectual, lawyer, economist, or philosopher willing to tell them they were the new pioneers, that the individual was the sole source of virtue, the only creator of value, that the world was divided between makers and takers, that market solutions were the only effective solutions, and that new economic frontiers were always open to conquest.”

2. "The Largesse of the Sea Maiden," by Denis Johnson

What I Wrote Then

What I Say Now: 

One of my favorite authors, Johnson created this profound, absorbing short-story collection for a posthumous publication. The work captures a true American treasure’s brilliance just after his death.

Passages to Remember: 

“Before long, we wandered into a discussion of the difference between repentance and regret. You repent the things you’ve done, and regret the chances you let get away.”

~“The Largesse of the Sea Maiden”

“That’s what we gotta do is get down to just one story, the true person we are, and live it all the way out.” 

~“The Starlight of Idaho”

“Have I loved my wife? We’ve gotten along. We’ve never felt like congratulating ourselves.”

~“The Largesse of the Sea Maiden”

3. "A Day in the Life of Abed Salama," by Nathan Thrall

What I Wrote Then

What I Say Now: 

Thrall has built a devastating tale of what's required to eke out a life amidst fraught Palestinian-Jewish interactions. Out of respect for the subject matter, his prose is straightforward and succinct, but his work should be required reading within the current geopolitical climate.

Passages to Remember: 

“We do not see our hand in what happens, so we call certain events melancholy accidents when they are the inevitabilities of our projects, and we call other events necessities merely because we will not change our minds.”

~Stanley Cavell

“‘You’ve turned our autonomy into a prison for us,’ the lead Palestinian negotiator, Abu Ala, said.”

4. "Looking for Alaska," by John Green

What I Wrote Then

What I Say Now: 

Green evokes an absorbing sentimentality through is depiction of an Alabama boarding school that serves as the setting for coming-of-age misfits dealing with grief and love. Yes, this is technically a YA book, but I make absolutely zero apologies for ranking it here.

Passages to Remember: 

“She didn’t leave me enough to discover her, but she left me enough to rediscover the Great Perhaps.”

“‘Oh, they suck,’ replied the Colonel. ‘But we always beat the shit out of the deaf-and-blind school.’”

“She taught me everything I knew about crawfish and kissing and pink wine and poetry. She made me different.”

“So I walked back to my room and collapsed on the bottom bunk, thinking that if people were rain, I was drizzle and she was a hurricane.”

“He was gone, and I did not have time to tell him what I had just now realized: that I forgave him, and that she forgave us, and that we had to forgive to survive in the labyrinth. There were so many of us who would have to live with things done and things left undone that day. Things that did not go right, things that seemed okay at the time because we could not see the future. If only we could see the endless string of consequences that result from our smallest actions. But we can’t know better until knowing better is useless.”

5. "The Place of Tides," by James Rebanks

What I Wrote Then

What I Say Now: 

Stunning Norway is the setting for Rebanks's non-fiction depiction of a dying tradition being upheld by a force of nature. The author weaves his personal challenges into the experience, making for a rich and emotional read.

Passages to Remember: 

“I couldn’t stop thinking about the old woman on the rocks … It was like someone had shown me a few lines of a truly great book and then closed the covers tight shut.”

“She had built herself out of the old stories, as had each generation before her, and now those who told them were dying out. Sometimes, in the days that followed, if Anna told me a story and I didn’t scribble it down she would look at me like maybe I hadn’t understood its importance, and would glance at the paper as if I ought to record it.”

“Our lives are a series of choices – about what we do, and don’t do. Over time we decide what to let go of, what must die, and what we will fight to keep alive. Sometimes these are big, deliberate decisions, other times change happens in a thousand thoughtless little moments.”

“Anna reminded me that the first rule of living is to live. To see, hear, smell, touch, and taste the world. The more I tuned in, the closer Anna and I were growing as friends. I was beginning a journey back to the person I had once been – and needed to be again.”

“Anna’s example was simple: if we are to save the world, we have to start somewhere. We just have to do one damn thing after another. Hers was a small kind of heroism, but it was the most powerful kind. The kind that saves us. We all have to go to work in our own communities, in our own landscapes. We have to show up day in, day out, for years and years, doing the work. There will be no brass band, no parade. And we have to accept and keep the faith in each other, and somehow work together. It is the only way we can make our own tiny deeds add up to become the change we all need.”

Narrow Misses (in 15 words or less):

"Vera, or Faith," by Gary Shteyngart: Hysterical, gut-wrenching look at contemporary politics and how technology compromises what passes for culture.

"Barbarian Days," by William Finnegan: Melodic, mystic autobiography details the author’s quixotic search for the perfect, unexplored wave–and peace.

"Montpelier Parade," by Karl Geary: Stark, oppressive look at two sides of same Dublin, through the eyes of futureless Sonny.

"Foster," by Claire Keegan: Tale of the bond between neglected niece and caregivers in rural Ireland is devastatingly emotional.

"The Intuitionist," by Colson Whitehead: Memorable debut of generation-defining novelist is a many-genred racial allegory with compelling characters.

"Down and Out in Paris and London," by George Orwell: Seedy underbelly of two of world's most renowned cities revealed in tragic, stark, hysterical memoir.

"Master and Margarita," by Andrei Bulgakov: Subversive, posthumous work uses a satanic presence to offer satirical takedown of Moscow, Russian society.

"Isola," by Allegra Goodman: Privileged orphan suffers abuse, imprisonment, and abandonment, finding her spiritual center in a harsh environment.

"An Oral History of Atlantis," by Ed Park: Short-story collection feels like fever dream shot through with social commentary, ennui, and hilarity.

"Stranger in a Strange Land," by Robert A. Heinlein: Dense, intriguing sci-fi adventure loses steam as it devolves into commentary on religion, sexuality.

Honorable Mention (in 10 words or less):

"A Really Strange and Wonderful Time," by Tom Maxwell: Triangle takes center stage in meticulously researched indie-music memoir.

"Tentacle," by Rita Indiana: Queer politics, other social issues clash in short, challenging book.

"Rogues," by Patrick Radden Keefe: Meticulous researcher displays investigative gifts in collection of finest work.

"The Freaks Came Out to Write," by Tricia Romano: Dizzying number of interviews document definitive counterculture institution Village Voice.

"The Hum," by Helen Phillips: Poignant tale of budding AI terror diminished by slow pacing.

"The Boys of Riverside," by Thomas Fuller: Dedicated group of deaf boys embrace challenges, win state title.

"1Q84," by Haruki Murakami: Sprawling tale crosses worlds, but undercut by repetition, distracting fetishizing.

"The Best American Mystery and Suspense 2024," edited by S.A. Cosby: Memorable collection of short stories boasts unique formats, styles, themes.

"Rebel Hearts: Journey Within the IRA's Soul," by Kevin Toolis: Painstaking research into history of the Troubles, impact of violence.

"The End of the World As We Know it: New Tales of Stephen King's The Stand," edited by Christopher Golden and Brian Keene: Ambitious tales set in Stephen King's world. to varying effectiveness.

"Lazarus Man," by Richard Price: NYC takes the fore in tale of atonement, hope, community.

Notable (in 7 words or less):

"On Air," by Steve Oney: NPR's origin story is dense and invaluable.

"Everybody Knows," by Jordan Harper: Hollywood noir showcases underdogs toppling fixed game.

"On the Hippie Trail," by Rick Steves: Global trek as coming-of-age story.

"Brothers," by Alex Van Halen: Emotional tale of brotherhood overcomes sudden ending.

"Where the Line Bleeds," by Jesmyn Ward: Barren Gulf Coast features twins finding identity.

"CivilWarLand in Bad Decline," by George Saunders: Depressing, confusing short stories reveal future satirist.

"Never Flinch," by Stephen King: Holly Gibney, killer, stalker converge in Ohio.

"The Geek Way," by Andrew McAfee: Can speed, science, openness foster change, culture?

"The Emergency," by George Packer: Satirical parable worthy read for current moment.

"King of Ashes," by S.A. Cosby: Formulaic Southern noir gives what it promises.

"Black Woods Blue Sky," by Eowyn Ivey: Girl's connection to a mysterious Alaskan creature.

The Rest (in 5 words or less):

"Creation Lake," by Rachel Kushner: Weak protagonist sinks promising premise.

"Talent," by Tyler Cowen and Daniel Gross: Iffy role models undercut theme. 

"Kill Joy," by Holly Jackson: Fun prequel set in Scotland.

"The Reappearance of Rachel Price," by Holly Jackson: Coincidence, formula deter YA tale.

Day 2,172, Quasi-Quarantine: Heavy-Handed Start Stalls Quest Of "The Emergency" To Serve As Contemporary Satirical Parable

“This was how empires of old that he had learned about in school fell: imperceptibly, then shockingly. Even with an enemy army gathered outside the walls, no one can believe that a way of life is about to end or imagine the strange new life that will replace it.”

Known more for his non-fiction work (like "Last Best Hope"), George Packer starts off a little shaky in his novel "The Emergency." His depiction of the collapse of civilization and separation into three distinct foes -- the Burghers, Yeoman, and Strangers -- feels too on the nose, leaving little room for subtlety.

“‘We applaud to make them feel more welcome,’ she said.

‘And that works?’

“Annabelle frowned. ‘Irony isn’t helpful here.’”

However, the satirical parable finds its footing in the relationship between Dr. Hugo Rustin and his 14-year-old daughter, Selva. As they set out on a humanitarian mission to contested territory, Huge wrestles with his irrelevance in a society that no longer honors titles and distinction. Selva tries to find a new identity after academics have been rendered obsolete, struggling to interpret the principles of Together, the new society's loosely defined collection of beliefs and principles.

“Together language tried to make everything ugly vanish by fiat, which meant the ugliness would persist–for nothing could be changed if it couldn’t be faced, and nothing could be faced if it couldn’t be named.”

As the novel progresses, the writing becomes less heavy-handed, though there are some significant plot holes. "The Emergency" adopts a better pace in the final chapters, upping the tension and more deftly depicting the class and intergenerational conflicts.

“He found that the circle of his concern had shrunk from humanity, the empire, and the city to the people in this room.”

Packer is at his best when he is obliquely commenting on the ripple effects of AI and the dissolution of government, and this work is a worthy entry to the canon of dystopian fiction that reflects our current moment.

“Something was ending, and they were too old to understand. What came after would belong to their children. But they would go on opening the door, and in this way they would live.”

Day 2,164, Quasi-Quarantine: Posthumous "Largesse Of The Sea Maiden" Highlights Profound, Absorbing Elements Of Denis Johnson's Writing

“I’m not the type to trudge along. I’m the type to come shooting off the block, get twenty yards ahead of everybody else, and go stumbling and sprawling off onto the sidelines with a collapsed lung.”

~“The Starlight of Idaho”

Denis Johnson's stunning, posthumous collection of short stories touches on weighty themes of mortality and nostalgia, but does so with a winking nod and a dose of self-deprecation that makes these tools irresistible.

“My Grandma puts it that Cass if you keep drinking your babies will come out crosseyed, and you’ll end up buried in a strange town with your name spelled wrong on your grave.”

~“The Starlight of Idaho”

"The Largesse of the Sea Maiden" is highlighted for me by "The Starlight of Idaho" and "Triumph Over the Grave," but there's something within each of these five stories for everyone. Johnson is at the top of his game, with his traditional musical prose merging with absorbing narratives.

“I note that I’ve lived longer in the past, now, than I can expect to live in the future. I have more to remember than I have to look forward to. Memory fades, not much of the past stays, and I wouldn’t mind forgetting a lot more of it.”

~“The Largesse of the Sea Maiden”

The brilliant Johnson toys with ideas of religion and legacy, ultimately delivering a work that has to rank among the finest short-story sets in the history of American literature -- and a moving treasure offered just after his death.

“What do you want? I said.

“All of you is mine already, he said. So what difference does it make what I want?

“I said, Are you a messenger of God?

“Worse, he said.

“I said, What could be worse than a messenger of God?”

~“The Starlight of Idaho”

Day 2,159, Quasi-Quarantine: "Barbarian Days" Rides A Long Wave To Inner Peace And Fulfillment

“Waves are not stationary objects in nature like roses or diamonds. They’re quick, violent events at the end of a long chain of storm action and ocean reaction. Even the most symmetrical breaks have quirks and a totally specific, local character, changing with every shift in tide and wind and swell.”

William Finnegan's autobiography is much a discussion of mortality as it as a love letter to surfing, with the melodic prose speaking to the spiritual experience of the sport and where it has taken him in his life.

"Barbarian Days" documents the violence that seemed to be a natural element of the author's upbringing, and the way it sparked his desire to experience the world at an incredibly young age. The Pulitzer Prize-winning work follows his travails across the world in his quixotic quest for the great unexplored wave.

“Big waves are violent and scary, full stop, and the bigger they are, generally speaking, the scarier and more violent they are. To anthropomorphize: big waves want, desperately, to drown you. Very few people surf them, and that’s the only reason they don’t kill more people than they do.”

Some of the events took place half a century prior, so a reader might wonder how accurate some of the remembrances are. Also, most dedicated surfers are inherently selfish -- minutely focused on the ocean and its subculture -- so the author definitely comes across as a pretty shitty partner in many ways.

“Chasing waves in a dedicated way was both profoundly egocentric and selfless, dynamic and ascetic, radical in its rejection of the values of duty and conventional achievement.”

But within the tale, Finnegan touches on growing old, his role in failed relationships, the loss of his parents, and his struggles to settle. "Barbarian Days" is a beautifully written book that accepts that it's all right not to try to explain the unexplainable.

“Surfing is a secret garden, not easily entered. My memory of learning a post, of coming to know and understand a wave, is usually inseparable from the friend with whom I tried to climb its walls.”

Day 2,158, Quasi-Quarantine: NC State's Heel-Stomping Brings Up Memories Of '95

 

Thirty years ago Scooter looks just as surprised as I did last night when the Pack absolutely pancreas-kicked UNC by 24 points. 

Go Pack, Young Scooter.

Day 2,151, Quasi-Quarantine: Celebrating The Hops In Puzzle Form

The "Crafty" puzzle from Happily was another fun one, documenting 48 different craft breweries from around the globe. This 1,000-piecer was made in the Netherlands and showcased some truly tremendous cans and obscure microbreweries.

The only (small) downside was that three sets of hands put this one together, so I perhaps didn't get an opportunity to spend time with and appreciate this one enough. Regardless, it was a winner -- and the more the merrier, with puzzlers and beer alike!

8.4, would solve amid icy blasts again