Day 2,325, Quasi-Quarantine: Confusing Confluence Of Characters And Plots Mark Pynchon's "Shadow Ticket"

 

“The city had a long history of suicide, attracting pilgrims from all over the world seeking a Lourdes not of hope but of despair, assuming that suicide in Budapest, like love in Paris or greed in New York, would be somehow more authentic.”

A dizzying cast of characters and plots marks this late-career offering from Thomas Pynchon. "Shadow Ticket" is a hard-boiled noir detective novel that follows Hicks McTaggart as he spans the 1930s globe.

Much of the work feels tongue in cheek, as McTaggart tackles Fascist goons, the mob, and cheese syndicates amid the Depression and the looming specter of war. Pynchon nails the dialogue and the rapid-fire pacing, amping up the entertainment value.

“‘MPD says they’re on the case, some think it’s the Outfit, some say the Nazi Youth.’

‘Two different kinds of trouble, ain’t it, one you end up dead, the other dead and in hell.’”

However, "Shadow Ticket" feels like it's trying too hard at times, making for a dense, confusing read. Shifts in perspective, geography, and timelines can leave a reader searching for safe ground, but the myriad characters make it difficult to find it.

The result is a whirlwind of concepts and what-ifs, alongside an appreciation for the genre and the author that doesn't quite match the final product.

“ … While in the back at any moment might be standing in wait some hopeful kid, his own instrument bouncing back highlights, his face still in shadows he’s never felt at home in, as if, when the spot finds him at last, as he steps into the full light, he’ll turn out to be somebody we already think we know …”

Day 2,315, Quasi-Quarantine: Corruption And Ineptitude Still Manage To Shock In "The Cadaver King And The Country Dentist"

 

“‘The Mississippi system was run by the triumvirate for years,’ says one long-serving former coroner. ‘Imagine that. A pathologist, a small-town dentist, and a funeral director … The state provided an audience of adoring idiots.’”

In "The Cadaver King and the Country Dentist," Radley Balko and Tucker Carrington have painstakingly researched and compiled a searing indictment of the entire criminal justice system of the state of Mississippi and beyond. The idea that Steven Hayne, Michael West, and Forrest Allgood were never imprisoned -- or worse -- for their actions, is an absolute travesty. The fact that two of the three are already dead somehow isn't enough.

The reality that racism, politics, and ignorance are running amok in Mississippi won't surprise anyone with the ability to read. The sheer lack of repercussions might, despite our better instincts.

“Coroners were incompetent. State law at the time required just two qualifications for the job: candidates had to be registered to vote and ‘must never have denied the existence of a Supreme being.’”

While focusing on two specific cases of wrongful incarceration, the book unveils an entire system predicated on targeting those unable to defend themselves and the many individuals who both turned their backs on them and actively lied to end their lives as free persons.

Make no mistake: this is an infuriating read, perhaps made even more so by the fact that the work is a slow burn, with the feel of a textbook in many areas. However, the act of reading feels more essential now than ever, as the concepts of truth and accountability are constantly under siege.

“But I ain’t mad at any of them anymore. The system’s gonna do what the system’s gonna do.”

~Kennedy Brewer

Day 2,309, Quasi-Quarantine: "Red Sky In Morning" Details Cross-Globe Manhunt As Loss And Vengeance Compete

 

“Night sky was black and then there was blood, morning crack of light on the edge of the earth. The crimson spill sent the bright stars to fade, hills stepping out of shadow and clouds finding flash. First rain of day from a soundless sky and music it made of the land. The trees let slip the mantle of darkness, stretched themselves, fingers of leaves shivering in the breeze, red then goldening rays of light catching. The rain stopped and he heard the birds wake. They blinked and shook their heads and scattered song upon the sky. The land, old and tremulous, turned slowly towards the rising sun.”

Starting in the remote reaches of Ireland and ending up in early 19th-century America, "Red Sky in Morning" follows the journey of Coll Coyle as he navigates the balance between escaping and returning.

Coyle committed a rash, rage-spurred act of violence, triggering a manhunt and a headlong game of hide-and-seek with an almost supernaturally gifted tracker, James Faller. As the two tangle, Coyle finds support and resistance in the unlikeliest of places, all while never letting go of a desire to return to his homeland and his growing family.

“In the boy he recognized the face of his own child, saw the hands of his daughter testing the shapes of stones, heard the small bundle of her voice, and he turned towards the great void of the sea, his breath held in his chest and he looked out into the distance where time and movement seemed to hold still, where nothing seemed to happen at all, a void bereft of love and pain, a great wash of unmemory held in its ceaseless eternity.”

I've been mesmerized by some of Lynch's other works, with "Prophet Song" having won the Scooties in 2024 and "Beyond the Sea" being an early standout this year. 

In his debut, Lynch displays an affinity for Cormac McCarthy, both in his prose and his antagonist, Faller, who evokes the legendary Judge Holden from McCarthy's "Blood Meridian." Faller is prone to existential soliloquies that seemed designed to justify or obfuscate his pure evil.

“To be the last thing a man sees before he dies, Faller said. Nothing will make you feel more alive.

“It’s quite a moment, said Faller. To be the sole judge of that person on earth. You meet his eyes and there’s an understanding quite like no other.”

"Red Sky in Morning" shies away from nothing, exploring themes like incest, torture, cholera, and racism, with Lynch's rhythmic prose lending an aesthetic that clashes with and complements the material. Coyle's morbid stint in America as part of a dig in Pennsylvania is based on a true story, lending a deeper horror to the tale.

If there was a quibble, it would be that Lynch's decision to occasionally shift perspectives between characters can lead to some minor confusion. However, the overall work is sublime, with a clever effort by the author to have the opening and closing language mirror one another.

Lynch has gone on to become one of our most accomplished novelists, but it's refreshing to see the raw talent apparent in his origin story.

“Oh the small place left behind unfolding into a universe. His ear cocked to the absence of it.”

Day 2,287, Quasi-Quarantine: Understated Prose Dominates Elegant Short Stories Of "The News From Dublin"

“It struck her afterwards that what he did in those few years when he was a fighter pilot was merely an exaggerated version of what we all do as we live: we swagger, we are full of pretense there is no real danger coming towards us, we talk as though the enemy is in flight, or under control. As time moves, however, it drags us with it until the time for pretending ends and the body lies spent.”

~“The Journey to Galway”

The settings and chronologies vary in this collection of short stories from Colm Toibin, but the themes of isolation and identity are consistent. "The News from Dublin" is marked by the author's trademark sparse prose and quiet restraint, permeating these tales with hints of melancholy and desperation.

The standouts were the title story, a shattering look at the effects of tuberculosis; "The Journey to Galway," a stark and powerful commentary on loss and war; "Free Man," a compelling view of sexual abuse and identity; and "Five Bridges," a moving and contemporary exploration of immigration status in the age of ICE.

"Sleep," "A Sum of Money," and "Barton Springs" were promising, but felt incomplete, while "The Catalan Girls" was incredibly long in relation to the other stories. With the emotional abuse and neglect at its core, it was rather difficult to read.

Toibin captures the fraught nature of family dynamics, the role of perception in finding one's place in the world, and how nature and nurture can alter the path of any individual. "The News from Dublin" lays it all bare for the reader's consideration and enjoyment.

“ … He would not grow old or live to regret anything at all or be forgiven. Action had given him a strange freedom, as it must have done for others, an avoidance of having to deal with his own complexity. Death, on the other hand, would give him nothing at all. From now on, it would be all absence.”

~“The Journey to Galway”

Day 2,282, Quasi-Quarantine: A Teen Navigates Grief, Neglect, And Family Dissolution In South Jersey's "Ghost Town"

 

“Maybe all that stuff catches up to you in the end, the demons you think you’ve outrun, the bad memories you locked away in a metal box, and then you hid the box in a dark corner of the basement under a heap of dirty blankets, and then you moved far away and did your best to pretend you were someone else. But that box is always right there, right where you left it.”

When a mid-tier author is asked to speak at the dedication of a building in his father's name in the hometown he's estranged from, memories of grief and identity flood in. "Ghost Town" captures the wistful, melancholy nature of bittersweet recollection almost perfectly, interspersed with the summery vibes that permeate many coming-of-age stories.

“ … His mind empty, his body glowing with that peaceful, washed-out feeling you get after a really good day at the beach.”

This book was purchased during an anniversary-celebration trip to beautiful Duck, NC, and it jumped out based on my previous experience with "The Leftovers," which was based on another Tom Perrotta novel. The Jersey Shore -- another old haunt of mine -- was the ideal setting for this quick, relatable read.

The prose is incredibly wry, leaving you to wonder where and whether Perrotta meant to joke or examine at times. His exploration of big teenage feelings is subtle, resulting in the book feeling like a potential coming-out tale in places.

“I used to tell people that I had two writing careers, one for love and one for money, but I don't believe that anymore. The truth is, it’s all been one thing, just a bunch of variations on the only themes that have ever mattered to me.

“Ghosts and Orphans.

“Orphans and Ghosts.

“The ways we’re abandoned and never left alone.”

Much like the overall theme, "Ghost Town" was short and fleeting -- like an adolescent summer that you wished there was more of.

“It was beautiful but a little unreal, almost like he was pedaling through a good memory, a summer that had already come and gone.”

Day 2,280, Quasi-Quarantine: "Strong Ground" Is Peppered With Useful Leadership Terms and Exercises, But Falls Short On Originality

 

“A leader is anyone, regardless of title and position, who holds themself accountable for finding potential in people and ideas, and who has the courage to develop that potential.”

"Strong Ground" features a number of unique terms and exercises for how to balance work systems and claims for attention, with Brene Brown citing a number of real-world examples. The included charts were also extremely useful for visual learners, and one could argue that the work could have benefited from more of them to break up the text.

“Fear is a terrible motivator. It has a short shelf life, and to maintain enough fear to drive behavior, you have to get comfortable with cruelty and create chaotic systems that might feed a hungry investor quarter but will eventually destroy you and your organization.”

The book can get a bit grandiose and feel derivative of other works, with lengthy abstracts -- on the off chance that the subtitle of "The Lessons of Daring Leadership, the Tenacity of Paradox, and the Wisdom of the Human Spirit" didn't warn you. Beyond the preachiness, there was the technical issue of the page numbers being too small in the hardcover version, making it needlessly difficult to orient yourself within the text.

“One hundred percent of the organizations that we’ve researched or partnered with have a list of values. Approximately 10 percent have operationalized their values into observable behaviors that are grounded in their mission and integrated across their systems.”

"Strong Ground" can give the impression of being a collection of thoughts on the broad topic of leadership, without a unifying throughline or overall coherence. Format aside, however, the guidance shared can only benefit anyone who's embarking on -- or continuing -- a leadership journey.

“While companies eagerly invest in AI, they often overlook crucial investments in change management and employee support. This oversight could lead middle managers to view AI as a threat rather than a tool, fostering resistance that may dramatically slow implementation and adoption.”

~Amy Webb

Day 2,273, Quasi-Quarantine: "Son Of Nobody" Deftly Balances A Classics Discovery With Family Estrangement And Tragedy

“History, however true, needs interpreting, and fiction, however invented, arises from life and reflects it.”

“What is one to do with the sadness of mortals?”

A decade since his last novel, Yann Martel delivers again with "Son of Nobody," another novel featuring a unique format and resonant emotional tones.

In the midst of a failing marriage, scholar Harlow Donne journeys to Oxford for research and ends up discovering a lost retelling of the Trojan War from the perspective of Psoas, a common soldier and "son of nobody." Parts of the tale mirror Donne's estrangement from his wife, Gail, and his separation from his daughter, Helen.

“ … To show that the past is never done with, that always there are parallels and returns and repetitions, always the song continues.”

I've long been a fan of Martel's, following up the sublime "Life of Pi" with the underrated "Beatrice and Virgil," which finished third in The Scooties in 2010. I was also a fan of "The High Mountains of Portugal" -- the winner of The Scooties in 2017.

“These footnotes have their share of things to say. Don’t neglect them. We all live lives that are footnotes to a greater story.”

This reader found himself looking for a few more insights into the dissolution of the marriage, and especially more about Gail and her perspective. But I can also see how that angle would have been difficult to incorporate into the format Martel chose.

“I loved Gail like a scribe loves a bard, like a candle loves a flame, like history loves the past, like a tongue loves speech, like a baby loves a honey-dipped finger.”

Martel interlaces the ancient poem with footnotes that document his own struggles to find a connection with his family from abroad and the growing tragedy that lurks. "Son of Nobody" is moving and clever, using its eccentric approach to overcome a narrative that can occasionally feel rushed and incomplete.

“And so the conclusion: life is a walk, and while our bodies are solid, our joints are strong, and our vision is clear, yet we walk on feet of dreams.”

Day 2,267, Quasi-Quarantine: Sectarian Violence, Toxic Masculinity Propel Shattering "Young Mungo"

 

“Mungo’s capacity for love frustrated her. His loving wasn’t selflessness; he simply couldn’t help it. Mo-Maw needed so little and he produced too much, so that it all seemed a horrible waste. It was a harvest no one had seeded, and it blossomed from a vine no one had tended. It should have withered years ago, like hers had, like Hamish’s had. Yet Mungo had all this love to give and it lay about him like ripened fruit and nobody bothered to gather it up.”

This novel of desperation is run through with an inescapable sense of dread and impending violence, as Douglas Stuart explores the underbelly of Glasgow.

“The sun was not yet fully overhead in the sky, and everything beautiful was all already ruined.”

Mungo Hamilton is a neglected 15-year-old struggling with a warped existence that makes love and violence two sides of the same coin. An alcoholic mother, an aspirational sister, and a gang-leader brother use him for their own needs, ignoring his own questions about sexuality and how to cope with the toxic masculinity that surrounds him.

“The men had looked at him as though they knew what lay inside his soul, things he still had not even admitted to himself. They knew the inescapable shame of it, how isolated it made him feel, and they had used that to separate him from his home and do as they pleased.”

Subjected to unspeakable violence, Mungo manages to carve out a friendship with James, whose religion, family challenges, and identity questions make him the worst possible fit in Mungo's environment. The pair wages battle against upbringings that have rendered love almost impossible. Almost.

“It seemed like this boy could not have spent a day on the same streets that Mungo knew, never needed any of its callous posturing, the self-protective swagger, the dirty promise of hitting first. There was nothing guarded or fearful about him. Mungo couldn’t help but smile back up at him. ‘I’m Mungo.’”

I discovered a copy of Stuart's debut novel, "Shuggie Bain," in a bookstore in Edinburgh and I forking loved it, ranking it No. 5 in the Scooties top five books of the year 2023. Stuart's work evokes Dickens, so it was useful to escape the overwhelming neglect and poverty by finishing this one at the Sanderling in cathartic Duck, NC.

“It was only a matter of time before James would be hurt, and for what? For liking Mungo Hamilton, the ruiner of all good things.”

If I had to identify some quibbles, I think Douglas offers up a rather one-dimensional depiction of an entire region. He also gives short shrift to Mungo's mother, Maureen, and I for one would have preferred a little more of a glimpse into her internal life.

“She had asked for violence out of a gentle soul and it made her feel like she had trampled a patch of fresh snow.”

“Jodie thought about how Mungo had moulded himself so entirely around Mo-Maw, how she had formed him into the exact component piece that she had been missing, and now that she didn’t need him anymore, he was stuck in this weird specific shape.”

When Mungo's sister Jodie turns traitor, it feels like the final knife in the back. But despite "Young Mungo" being a devastating read, filling readers with every emotion, it finds its way to an ending riddled with hope and tinges of redemption.

“He was watching, and he was waiting, and he was leaving all at the same time.”

Day 2,260, Quasi-Quarantine: "Journey Without Maps" Documents A Harrowing Venture Through Africa's Interior

“Later I got used to not caring a damn, just to walking and staying put when I had walked far enough, at some village of which I didn’t know the name, to letting myself drift with Africa.”

Graham Greene's account of a four-week, head-long scamper through the interior of Liberia stands as a strong commentary on the impacts of colonialism in early-20th-century Africa. He and his retinue -- including his companion, a cousin he barely mentions -- covered some 350 miles on foot, braving a number of physical and cultural dangers.

“ … The peculiarly Protestant characteristic of combining martyrdom with absurdity.”

The author continuously put his health and safety at risk in "Journey Without Maps," but the intent of his trek was often missing. He seemed bent on rushing as fast as possible through the experience much of the time, causing a reader to wonder what he had hoped to achieve.

“I felt crazy to be here in the middle of Liberia when everything I knew intimately was European. It was like a bad dream. I couldn’t remember why I had come.”

I was a big fan of Greene's work in "The Quiet American," and this certainly represents a massive departure from that style. Perhaps an element of this tale that could have benefited from more exploration was the impact of the journey on his mental state.

“Today our world seems peculiarly susceptible to brutality. There is a touch of nostalgia in the pleasure we take in gangster novels, in characters who have so agreeably simplified their emotions that they have begun living again at a level below the cerebral.”

Greene credits the ordeal for rekindling his love of life, despite latter-life admissions that it was a reckless endeavor. His interactions with villagers are perhaps the best part of the book -- especially when they serve to highlight the ways in which the natives are being taken advantage of by his countrymen and other Europeans.

“A child was crying in a tenement not far from the Lord Warden, the wail of a child too young to speak, too young to have learnt what the dark may conceal in the way of lust and murder, crying for no intelligible reason but because it still possessed the ancestral fear, the devil was dancing in its sleep.”

Day 2,248, Quasi-Quarantine: Pacing, Humor Propel "Lost Lambs" To Must-Read Status

“She did not subscribe to the notion that some things were the way they were, always had been, always would be. That the sun set early in the winter, limiting playtime. That, once out, toothpaste could not be put back in the tube. Things only were the way they were because she had not yet been around to fix them.”

Mix bizarre family dynamics and teen angst, stir vigorously, insert dark themes, and somehow produce freshly baked hilarity? Somehow that's what Madeline Cash has achieved with her debut novel, "Lost Lambs."

“Louise was in a prison of her own mundanity. She’d taken to intentionally throwing out the metal forks with the food scraps when she scraped her dinner plate, just so that she might feel a momentary rush.”

Three teenage girls face adolescent challenges interlaced with global scandals while their parents experiment with an open, confusing marriage. The result is a series of subplots that ends up overlapping in delightful ways at the end.

“It was the best part of a new relationship, when you could fill a library with what you didn’t know about another person. Pure potential.”

The slight quibbles are that Cash employs an intentional stylistic device that doesn't quite work and ends up being an unnecessary distraction. Also, the pivotal scene in the mansion resolves without a real explanation of what happens.

Beyond that, "Lost Lambs" is an escapist's delight, capturing the weighty, existential issues of our time without ever forgetting to laugh.

“Control what people do and you’re a king. Control how people think and you’re a god.”

Day 2,245, Quasi-Quarantine: Fever-Dream Writing Of "Brawler" Undermined By Cardboard Characters

“I look around and can see it in so many other women, passed down from a time beyond history, this wind that is dark and ceaseless and raging within.”

~“Wind”

This gut-wrenching collection features short stories that include large twists and real emotion. Groff examines gender dynamics, relationships between guardians and children, and the lasting effects of trauma.

Some of the standouts include "Wind," "What's the Time, Mr. Wolf?", and "Under the Wave." In addition, "Between the Shadow and the Soul" was complex, "Such Small Hands" was nuanced, "Annunciation" had a compelling ending, and "Sunland" was straight-up gutting.

“Oh, but she hadn’t wanted to leave him, not really, had she. She had just wanted to know what it was like to brush up against the dazzling future again. She felt the part of her that the lush spring had stirred to life go dormant, deep in her, once more. She knew that it would not awaken again in her lifetime.”

~“Between the Shadow and the Soul”

I had some experience with Groff's work, but the short-story form feels like a better fit for her than the novel. Despite it coming highly recommended, "Fates & Furies" was a bit overwrought for me. 

While the bulk of these tales highlight one-dimensional male characters -- with a lack of nuance hurting some of the plots -- "Brawler" as a whole is well worth the time for those readers ready to experience a full range of feelings.

“But that was the moment when she knew he would lie to her, and everything her spun away from him, and he was the one she hated as she walked out the door.”

~“Brawler”

Day 2,235, Quasi-Quarantine: "The Director" Captures The Whirlwind Experience Of A Captive Director During World War II

“ … There was one thing experience had taught her: directors didn’t accept a gentle no, for the simple reason that people who accepted a gentle no never could have become directors.”

Daniel Kehlmann's sprawling tale follows the exploits of famed director G.W. Pabst, who eventually finds himself captive and coerced into creating movies for the appeasement of his Nazi overlords. 

“It was one of those moments when everything seems to have been said, when it suddenly feels like the present has been used and nothing is left but a threatening future.”

Kehlmann's strongest accomplishment is allowing the narrative to veer into farce and satire without ever giving short shrift to the mild terror directly underneath. His story -- translated by Ross Benjamin -- allows for exploration of questions about the relationship between dictatorship and identity, the role of artistic license, and the value of autonomy.

“Suddenly there was silence. All conversation had stopped. The director stood in front of him, her mouth half open, looking at him. I was wrong, he thought. You actually can recognize the truly evil people at a single glance.”

"The Director" bounces around from Austria to Los Angeles to Czechoslovakia to France to Nazi Germany, lending a manic pace to elements of the narrative. The tale serves as a worthy exploration of the true meaning and merit of talent -- what is it worth and what is it worth sacrificing for?

“This was exactly what it had to be about–that music only seemed to speak of beauty, but in reality it spoke of how nothing was ever enough, how everything always fell short. How so much would never be ours.”

The appearance of famous people and stars from history lends weight to the novel. Kehlmann does a stellar job of capturing the fragile state of culture against the backdrop of horror, making "The Director" a memorable -- and vital -- read.

“‘Times are always strange. Art is always out of place. Always unnecessary when it’s made. And later, when you look back, it’s the only thing that mattered.’”

Day 2,220, Quasi-Quarantine: "Football" Serves As Thoughtful Love Letter To The Sport

“Football imitates American society by generating a sensation of chaotic freedom within an environment of near-total control.”

Chuck Klosterman’s meandering missive on America's actual national pasttime can feel a bit dense and esoteric -- while somehow managing to be hilarious and absorbing. "Football" is an eclectic mix that works, with the author dropping surprise bits of wisdom into discussion of the vagaries of six-man football.

Along the way, the author also manages to almost perfectly capture my feelings toward the Miami Dolphins.

“ … I sometimes fear I’m experiencing the most bottomless version of fandom, where I love a team I don’t even like, emotionally betrothed against my will.”

Klosterman peppers the prose with fortune cookie-ish sayings, giving the work heft interspersed with nostalgia, concern, and doubt.

“Pervasive institutional control, so entrenched that it’s become unremarkable, is both the facilitator for society’s overall enhancement and the reason so many individuals within that society feel alienated by the very things making their life easier. Everything was upgraded and nothing got better.”

Klosterman closes with an entirely plausible scenario that predicts the eventual disappearance of the game, serving as a fitting ending to a fascinating read.

“If football did not already exist and was being invented today, there’s no way this amount of idle loitering would be included. The elevator pitch would seem like a joke: ‘Let’s create a complicated, violent game where nothing happens during 94 percent of the telecast, shown from a camera perspective that limits the viewer’s ability to see what’s happening.’”

Day 2,214, Quasi-Quarantine: "Vigil" Offers Combustible Thematic Mix Of Atonement, Accountability, And Grief

“Who else could you have been but exactly who you are? I said. Did you, in the womb, construct yourself? All your life you believe yourself to be making choices, but what looked like choices were so severely diminished in advance by the mind, body, and disposition thrust upon you that the whole game amounted to a sort of lavish jailing.”

The master of satire is back with "Vigil," which attempts to balance hilarity and accountability to mixed results. George Saunders offers up shades of "Lincoln in the Bardo," peopling his afterlife with an eclectic cast of characters charged with consoling and eliciting atonement from the dying.

K.J. Boone is the latter, an oil magnate who led the effort to cover up the environmental destruction wrought by his industry. His liaison to the afterlife, Jill, grows frustrated in her efforts to elicit any measure of apology or recognition of his sins from Boone.

“ … only the two original Mels remained, wincing somewhat at the discomfort associated with the ongoing, continual rear reentry of their miniature selves.”

I'm an avid reader of Saunders's -- see "A Swim in the Pond in the Rain," "Fox 8," "Liberation Day," and "CivilWarLand in Bad Decline," in addition to "Lincoln in the Bardo" -- and appreciated this one, but would not count it among my favorites of the author's. 

“Grandma Gust, we’d called her. Because of her late-life farting. She’d been the first to call herself that. After ripping one at dinner. And then we all picked up on it.”

"Vigil" is at is best when the focus is on Jill, who must reckon with her own mysteries in the wake of her sudden death. Saunders packs a lot into a fast-paced, short novel, leading a reader to wonder whether it would have benefited from more or less space to roam.

“What keeps you here, I said.

“She leaned forward to answer, as if about to tell me some long-kept secret.

“Then did a little fart, like in the old days, so we might part on good terms.

“And off she went.”

Day 2,210, Quasi-Qauarantine: Moving "To Free The Captives" Explores Black Experience

“The conundrum of history is that we think it is behind us. But if it came first, doesn’t that mean it should be up ahead, turning back now and again to see if we are keeping up?”

Beautiful writing and constructions mark Tracy K. Smith's "To Free the Captives: A Plea for the American Soul." A poet by trade -- she was the United States Poet Laureate from 2017-19 -- this work serves as a memoir and commentary on the national role of race.

“For my parents and their kin, born into a nation intent upon their diminishment and inured to their dying, the soul started out from unblinking eyes with the assurance of continuance. I matter, it said. Never mind what you attempt, I will last.”

The book is at its best when the author is not the central character and instead focuses on her family and the search for more information about their experiences and challenges. However, some complaints feel iffy or forced, which may undermine the power of some of the author's arguments for some readers.

Although relatively short, the book is both powerful and thought-provoking. To be sure, "To Free the Captives" brings an emotional punch that resonates long after the reading is done.

“But freedom isn’t a thing to be held or hoarded; its purpose is to be passed forward, given away. Freedom is an impossibility in places where the most one is encouraged to seek and guard jealously is power, permission, authority. Freedom is held captive in places like these.”

Day 2,198, Quasi-Quarantine: "Beyond The Sea" Takes Deserved Place Among The Finest Survival Tales

“The thought that presses from the darkest place.

“What it says.

“To stare directly at it. What it might mean.

“You are alone.”

A harrowing fever dream of being lost to an unforgiving ocean, "Beyond the Sea" is a triumph of a survivor tale. Paul Lynch's exploration of the evolving relationship between veteran fisherman Bolivar and disinterested youth Hector within the prison of a boat is grim and existential.

Based on the true story of Salvadoran fisherman Jose Salvador Alvarenga, the novel uses sparse punctuation and short sentences to contrast the vastness of the sea. Hector examines an unlived life, while Boliver struggles with a dark, illicit past full of mistakes and bad decisions.

“Hector’s sorrowful, weighted eyes are the yes of a man watching his own life from some remote place without capacity to shout warning.”

Lynch has quickly emerged as one of my favorite writers, having secured the top spot in the 2024 Scooties with his incredible work "Prophet Song." His bleak, gutting stories incorporate contemporary issues -- the environment, geopolitics, degradation -- and challenge every emotional chord, leaving you feeling, well, like you've just survived a ship wreck.

“The countenance of a child growing before him as he crawls along the beach, his cry broken, he has not the breath to speak, to put into words, he wants to say it over and over again, home, I can go home now, but the words will not come. He falls before the child, it is a little girl, and he lifts his head and thinks, you believed. A feeling now of the world he once knew. And it is then he finds the breath to speak, and he seeks not to frighten her, speaks in his own tongue.

“I am only a fisherman.”

"Beyond the Sea" is a worthy entry into the company enjoyed by Hemingway, Melville, and Golding, and its ending is cleverly open to broad interpretation. The book will leave you exhausted and emotionally shaken -- but a thankful witness to deepest elements of man's soul.

“He thinks, what is life but waiting.

“He closes his eyes and listens.

“Always waiting upon the awaited thing. But what if you hold what is given?”

Day 2,193, Quasi-Quarantine: "Towards The End Of The Morning" Offers A Hysterical Parody Of Journalism In 1960s London

 

“He liked life to be predictable and orderly. He liked to have time to think what he was going to feel about something before it happened.”

Michael Frayn's hilarious depiction of 1960s Fleet Street captures all the stereotypes and realities of journalism. "Towards the End of Morning" is hysterical, peopled with angsty editors (Dyson), driftless writers (Bob), immovable lifers (Eddy Moulton), and vague social climbers (Erskine Morris).

“He had spent his youth as one might spend an inheritance, and he had no idea what he had bought with it.”

Anyone who has spent any time on a newspaper, magazine, or publication of any kind will recognize the characters and ethos of a newsroom and its environs. Frayn has nailed the vibe beautifully, making for an irresistible encapsulation of an entire trade.

“He settled back in his armchair with his beer, full of mutton and beans and well-being. He felt as though there were a space for him in the universe, and he exactly filled it.”

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.