Last January, I started sharing monthly book reviews here on Substack. I did it because people often ask what I’m reading, and because I love a good book recommendation. And then for twelve months, this space became almost exclusively book reviews. Most of me doesn’t love that.

Here is what I have come to realize, though. I have become somewhat paralyzed in what else to share in this space. Because here is the truth. The world outside my small life in my nice house in Salt Lake City is turbulent and wild and scary. I have friends who are hurting deeply and protesting loudly. They have lost jobs and loved ones. They have lost rights and protections. They have reasons to hurt and protest. And in the midst of this turbulent year, our second in this new city we now call home, I have fought hard to feel at home here.

To feel at home, I have needed my world to get small. The morning after the election last November, I wrote a short post on Instagram – one of only a few I shared in the past year. In it, I wrote a list of things Norah and I decided we would do over the next four years. So, while I have not been writing much on Substack or Instagram, I can say that I have been doing the following:

I have added banned books to Little Free Libraries. (Utah has a LOT of banned books).

I have shown up for my friends & neighbors when they needed me and asked for help when I needed them.

I have prayed in pews with our LGBTQ church members.

I have learned new recipes and danced in the kitchen.

I have made sandwiches for the soup kitchen and donated socks and underwear to the shelter.

Thanks to Norah, I now have bags of snacks, water, bandaids, socks, and gloves in each car to hand out to people who need them when we see them.

I have hugged my children’s teachers.

I could do a better job fighting for common-sense gun laws.

I have also called my representatives more than any year before.

I have explored our beautiful country, which I still love deeply, and I have tried my best to understand those who think and vote differently from me .

And friends, most days I still have moments when I am sad and angry. Maybe you do too. But here is where I get back to the book reviews. In the midst of everything, it is books that have helped me stay grounded and start to make sense of anything. Reading every morning wasn’t on our list of things we would do over these four years. But it is the one consistent thing that has simultaneously helped me keep my world small and expand my perspective.

We can’t stop reading, friends. In times of upheaval, read to rage. In times of confusion, read to understand a new perspective. In times of loneliness, read for connection. In times of overwhelm, read to escape.

Read fiction and poetry and essays and smut if you must (maybe I’ll get there?). Read YA and religion (not just yours) and philosophy. Read history and biography and humor. Audiobooks count!

For centuries, writers have done the work of helping us untangle the mess of the world and start to weave some of the threads back together. Then we can do the work of — whatever it is the story moves us to do. Protest. Make sandwiches. Call our representatives. Volunteer somewhere. No one has the privilege of being in community with people from every background or with every life experience, but we can read their stories. Reading is a way to get us out of our own bubbles for longer than a news cycle; longer than a doom scroll.

At a recent book club, I shared that my goal with any book I read is to be challenged or changed just a little bit. I want to be just barely different after finishing the book than I was when I started. To see the world through a new lens.

So, I’ll keep sharing book reviews this year, and now you know why. Because I want to invite you to read something you wouldn’t have thought of before. I want you to equip yourself to go out into the world and live with a bigger heart and different perspective than you would have had if you not picked up that book.

Here are the books I read in December:

Read — 5 stars

Recommended by Emily P. Freeman

It feels odd to rate sermons, so I am thinking of these more as essays, and I would still give the collection 5 stars. Barbara Brown Taylor is a great writer because she knows how to tell a story. The arc of each essay/sermon is engaging. She doesn’t preach down at you, but invites the listener, or in this case, the reader, to wonder and be challenged alongside her. This collection spans the liturgical year, so it could be a nice book to pick up in different seasons (Lent, Advent, Pentecost, etc.), but the sermons are approachable and applicable any time of year.

Listened - 4 stars

Recommended by Lorren Lemmons

If you’ve read anything else by Sally Rooney and liked it, I think you’ll like this. If you don’t like her writing, you probably won’t like this one, either. I don’t think anyone compares to Rooney for the minute introspection of character she creates. It’s almost like a psychological thriller, but instead of edge-of-your-seat fear, it’s like she’s taken each character to intense therapy, and she’s able to get inside their heads in every action and emotion, conveying their inner desire and motivation to the reader. I loved the examination of a brother relationship in this story and the ways different people react in grief.

Read — 5 stars

Recommended by my friend Carly & read for book club

This was one of the best books I read this year -- maybe in the last five to ten years. The main character was so easy to love. This interview with the author was also delightful.

Listened - 5 stars

Recommended by Ashlee Gadd & read for book club

This book lived up to the hype! Multiple friends told me it was their favorite book of the year. I can’t wait to discuss this story with my book club in a couple of months. Charlotte McConaghy captured the setting of a remote northern island so well. Then she layered on climate change, marriage struggles, fierce parent love, and a captivating mystery that all tangled together to make this intensely readable.

Read — 3 stars

Picked up in a Little Free Library

If you are someone who does morning pages and hates them some days like me, this could be a good companion. I’ve kept this with my journal for the past five or six months. On mornings I just didn’t feel like getting those longhand pages done, I read an entry and let it spark something. There are a series of reflections followed by a short exercise, most often a list of five questions to get you thinking on the page. Some are great, others are okay. As in The Artist’s Way, Cameron leaves who God is open to the reader. Probably 3.5 stars, but rounded down to 3.

Read - 5 stars

Receommended by NYT Best Books of the 21st Century #41 & Readers’ Choice #58 (& Lorren Lemmons again)

I read this the week before Christmas. As soon as I finished, I wanted to go back and reread it, but I think I’ll give myself that gift again next December. Keegan’s writing is careful -- as in she chooses each word carefully and she takes care of the characters and her reader as she unfolds the story.

Read — 5 stars

Recommended by my favorite human — Brett

This is a book I wish everyone would read. I realize being a progressive Christian who is really tired of my faith being used as a reason to stoke fear or to bully people into voting a certain way makes me the target audience, but I actually think there is something in this book for anyone. If you’re not a Christian, it will give you a glimpse into the Bible that isn’t the interpretation from those wanting to post the Ten Commandments in our public schools. If you are a Christian who likes that conservative interpretation, maybe at least give it a read to gain an understanding of how other members in the body of Christ believe? The author’s parents were a priest & a nun who fell in love, so he was raised in a very religious home -- one in which loving your neighbor and serving the poor were essential. In the book, he makes an argument for why that version of Christianity is still worth fighting for and how fundamentalism has always been the opposite of Jesus.

I’m not sure what I was doing in November, but apparently I wasn’t reading much. I spent more of my morning time journaling than I have in any other month this year, which felt really good. However, there were a few books I’d still like to recommend. And I’m currently reading a few great ones, so I should have more to share in December.

Listened — 4 stars

Recommended by Ashlee Gadd

I expected this to be a delightfully light read, and it held up the delightful bargain. But the characters and story lines had much more depth to be considered a truly light read. They deal with PTSD, close-knit families who still have secrets, estranged families trying to find their way to each other, and a woman whose ability to see the best in everyone gets her into trouble. I didn’t love a couple of the narrators for the audiobook, so I’d recommend reading it.

Read — 5 stars

Recommended by — I had credit to spend at my favorite local bookstore :)

This small book holds so much beauty. Instead of poems, each page is really just a short thought or a few lines of poetry. I wish there were more books like this -- ones you can pick up and read in a single sitting or sit with one thought for a few days. Andrea Gibson had a way of looking at the world and specifically at people, with so much grace. That grace comes through in their words and they invite you to look at the world and humanity with fresh eyes. I think that’s what all writing aims to do.

Read — 5 stars

Recommended by Emily P. Freeman

It feels odd to rate sermons, so I am thinking of these more as essays, and I would still give the collection 5 stars. Barbara Brown Taylor is a great writer because she knows how to tell a story. The arc of each essay/sermon is engaging. She doesn’t preach down at you, but invites the listener, or in this case, the reader, to wonder and be challenged alongside her. This collection spans the liturgical year, so it could be a nice book to pick up in different seasons (Lent, Advent, Pentecost, etc.), but the sermons are approachable and applicable any time of year.

As always, let me know what you’re reading!

I’m going through The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron right now, which means recommitting to morning pages — three pages of longhand writing first thing in the morning. Usually, these pages are just a brain dump, some ranting, maybe a to-do list. But a few weeks ago, I saw David Sedaris, and something happened that I wrote about the next morning and have been thinking about ever since. I took it from my morning pages journal to my keyboard, edited it a little, and am posting it here. One of my goals with this round of The Artist’s Way is to remember to write for fun again. So here’s a little something just for fun.

Last night, I saw David Sedaris at the Eccles Theater. Brett was supposed to go with me, but he had a last minute trip to Austria with the U.S. Ski & Snowboard Team (tough life, huh?), so I took my friend Heather instead. It could have just been an Artist Date (Julia Cameron suggests a weekly solo outing to nurture your creative life), but I was so glad to have time with Heather. Also glad not to have an unused ticket to the event. Sedaris’s writing sounds as if it’s all stream of consciousness. It isn’t, of course. He was editing as he read. He had a pencil in his hand and crossed a few things out. Wrote a few things down. Nothing big, I assume. But still, constantly fine-tuning his work.

The usher at the door next to us (our seats were on the aisle) kept playing with a plastic wrapper. At first, I thought she was unwrapping a lot of cough drops, one after the other, and I could forgive her because that was less distracting than a coughing fit. But no. She only had the one wrapper. She was just rolling it back and forth between her fingers. Scrunching and unscrunching it in her palm. Letting the tiny crinkles echo through our corner of the theater. I’m sensitive to these noises. I often give people in theaters The Look when they aren’t being gold-star theater patrons. Screens receive death stares. Whispers better be inaudible to all but the receiver. Latecomers who make me rise from my seat get raised brows and a deep sigh as they shuffle past me with their phone flashlights out to find their seats. Theaters are one of the few places where I am not deserving of the “Nicest” title I earned as my senior moniker in high school. In most of my life, it still holds up. I take kindness pretty seriously. But I am a judgey theater person.

Not if you’re doing the right thing, of course. If you sit and applaud, keep your phone away, hold your partner’s hand, nod and smile and laugh with those around you at the APPROPRIATE times, I will probably strike up a conversation with you at intermission. Just last month, we were back in New York for fall break. Norah and I went to the matinee of Hell’s Kitchen, and the last song before intermission made me weep. As the curtain fell and most people started the speed shuffle toward the restroom I took a deep breath and looked for my person. There she was. Two rows back. Also weeping.

“I just need a minute to process that,” I told her, wiping tears from my cheeks.

“Me too, girl!,” she said, shaking her head and getting a tissue out of her purse. “That voice!”

“Mom, you’re so weird,” Norah said. In case it wasn’t already clear, Norah is almost a teenager. But what she didn’t say was, “Mom, you’re so disrespectful.” Because I didn’t wail and blow my nose into a tissue while sobbing through the last song of Act 1. I quietly let the tears stream down my face so as not to disrupt my fellow theater goers.

But this usher last night. Crinkling the wrapper. It wasn’t only me who noticed. Heather looked at me with wide eyes. The couple in front of us kept looking over at the usher. I craned my neck toward her every time Sedaris paused in his reading. We were all trying, desperately, to use the power of The Stare to get her to look our way so we could collectively shame her into stopping. But she didn’t look at any of us. My first-grade teacher tendencies started to kick in. I wanted to walk over to her and whisper, “I’ll hold this for you until the end of the show. If you’d still like to play with it, the bus ride back would be a great time, and I’ll have it for you then.”

But she’s the one who should have been confiscating items like this. It was her job to keep the theater a pleasant place for all involved! But then I clocked something. We were at a David Sedaris reading. Every time I looked at her, she had a straight face and cold eyes. No hint of humor as the audience in Eccles Theater roared with laughter. Maybe that small plastic wrapper was her weird protest to the Public Radio crowd. Maybe she saw that David Sedaris was being introduced by the local public radio station on a night she would be ushering and her heart sank. This guy? Who those NPR lovers think is so funny? And I’m going to have to stand there and listen to him for two hours? I’ll need my emotional support wrapper to get through this.

Dear reader, this is where my morning pages ended the day after the David Sedaris reading. That was two weeks ago. I don’t know what it says about me that I have thought about that usher almost every day since. But this morning, my thoughts toward her shifted. For years, I have tried to tell my children when someone is annoying them at school to think about what circumstances could be causing them to act that way. Did they not get enough sleep? Is their mom or dad sick? Is their big brother or sister bullying them? Did they get breakfast that day?

So my inner first-grade teacher came back again, and this morning, I started to wonder. What if that usher was totally unaware of what she was doing? Maybe her face was cold and unattached because she wasn’t there – instead, she was worried about a scary diagnosis she just received, or a partner not receiving a paycheck due to the government shutdown, or how they would provide Thanksgiving dinner this year due to either of those circumstances. Maybe she rolled that plastic in her hands because that is how she released her worry when she stopped moving her body to show people to their seats and had to be still. Maybe she didn’t laugh because she wasn’t listening to anything Sedaris said – couldn’t listen – because the worry in her own mind was too loud.

The first-grade teacher in me still wants to take the wrapper from her. Maybe with just a little more kindness, though. Put a hand on her shoulder. Invite her to take a breath, enter the room she’s in, try to laugh if she can – even for a moment. Let go of her grip. Ask for help.

Whether the crinkling disruption was deliberate or unintentional, she made me notice her. I hope she has a nice Thanksgiving. And I hope she finds a way to protest or release anxiety that doesn’t involve a small plastic wrapper.

I told you October reads would be coming very soon!

Listened — 4 stars

Recommended by my friend Callie for book club

This is a sweet story of redemption and forgiveness. I’m not sure the title works well for the book, which threw me off a bit. The characters are flawed and likeable. It’s a quick, enjoyable read and will be a good discussion for book club, but probably not a book that will stick with me for a long time.

Listened — 5 stars

Recommended by my friend Julie & The NYT Reader’s Choice Best 100 #37

Colson Whitehead can do anything. This book was riveting. The characters are so well crafted and story is written with the perfect blend of detail and urgency to keep you immersed the whole time.

Listened — 3 stars

Recommended by my friend Casey for book club

I thought this book was fine. It was an intriguing story and I love that it was based on a real woman, but it just didn’t hold my attention. The story just plodded along, and all but the last few chapters were very predictable. Everyone else in my book club loved it though, so I think I’m just the odd one out here.

Read — 4 stars

Recommended by David McGlynn

First off, this is one of my favorite titles ever. Interior States refers to both the Midwest, where O’Gieblyn grew up, and the state of her interior faith life. These essays explore both topics, sometimes separately but often together. O’Gieblyn’s writing is sharp and thoughtful. My favorite essay was “Sniffing Glue”, in which she writes about the Christian music scene in the 90s and her desire to branch out to other genres.

Read — 5 stars

Recommended by Rachel Nevergall

This book felt like a series of coffee dates with a seasoned writer. Dani Shapiro is generous with her wisdom and honest about the parts of the writing life that never get easier. For instance, she writes that every time she starts a new project she feels that she doesn’t know how to write again. This book was short and sweet and one I will likely dip into again and again when I want a companion for the journey.

As always, I love to hear what you’re reading or if you have read any of these. Let me know in the comments or just reply if you’re reading this as an email. :)

When I looked back at my September books, I realized it proves that my reading is nothing if not eclectic. I’m recommending a book of poetry, a novel with a lot of hype, a new work of nonfiction, a ten-year-old novel written in short stories, and one of the best memoirs I’ve read. Here you go!

Read — 4 stars

Recommended by … I can’t remember. I know I bought it at The Strand in 2020 when we were all still masked in stores, though.

My favorite poems were from the Bean Eaters section. Gwendolyn Brooks ability to create a scene or sometimes a whole story in one poem is incredible.

Listened — 4 stars

Recommended by my friend Julie for book club

This was such a great mystery! I wouldn’t have listened if it hadn’t been picked for book club, but once I started, I could barely stop. The only reason I didn’t give it 5 stars is that the missing kids storyline was hard -- (and the reason I wouldn’t have picked it on my own). However, the way Liz Moore presented multiple perspectives and well-rounded characters helped to avoid focusing solely on one plot point.

Listened — 4 stars

Recommended by someone from my book club

I always appreciate Ezra Klein’s thinking and the way he explores ideas. In this book he and Derek Thompson do a good job of not only making an argument for building more of what we need in this country (housing, better immigration systems, medical innovation, etc.) but also of showing the pitfalls of how both Democrats and Republicans get in the way of their own arguments. It is a book written by liberal writers to be sure, but not liberal writers unwilling to entertain ideas from all points of view.

Listened — 3 stars

Recommended by The NYT 100 Best Books of the 21st Century — #66

This collection of stories about three brothers growing up with parents who love them but are struggling themselves is beautifully written. Justin Torres uses raw, powerful, vivid language that is engaging and often leaves the reader breathless. I often read books and think they could have been a third as long. In this case, I wish this book had been a third longer. I wanted the characters and stories to be a little more fleshed out. To know a little more about what happened. It just felt unfinished and rushed at the end.

Read — 5 stars

Recommended by me. I have followed Jen for years and love her writing.

I can’t remember the last time I read a book so quickly. I cried, I laughed, I held my breath, I let it all go. Jen’s writing is so good here. The structure of this book -- “The End, The Middle, The Beginning” -- written in short vignettes all in the first person, is perfect for this memoir. Probably one of the best memoirs I’ve read. Jen Hatmaker has faced considerable criticism for challenging the conventional understanding of what it means to follow Jesus. Some reviewers have noted that she didn’t rely on her faith enough in this book. This book shows the power of her incredible friendships, her fierce love for her children, and her learning to trust and love her own body. None of these things lessens her faith. She acknowledges that she just can’t quit Jesus even though she might not be able to be in church now. I have been there. And so many others can relate. I loved this book and I’m grateful for a writer like Jen Hatmaker.

October reads coming very soon! As well as a rebrand of this Substack since I am well aware I no longer live in the Big Apple nor the Big Sky. :)