Last month I was able to pick up the reading pace, just as I hoped/predicted.
The Story of Birds by Steve Brusatte. An extremely readable overview of the current state of evolutionary science as it relates to birds (and one that pays due respect to my beloved corvids).
Yonder by Jabari Asim. This book--a historical novel with magical realism threads about enslaved people in the 1850s in what is probably Kentucky or maybe Virginia (since it seems to be not that far from the Ohio River) who ultimately plan and carry out an escape--is a departure from my usual fictional fare, but it's gorgeous and I'm glad I read it.
Never Thought I'd End Up Here by Ann Liang. A rather sweet YA romance mostly set in a language immersion summer tour of China for children of immigrants.
The Geomagician by Jennifer Mandula. A historical fantasy novel answering the question, "What if Mary Anning was a witch who could bring fossils to life, and not as skeletons but as fully fleshed out trilobites, pterodactyls, etc.?" coupled with a complex magical system and a lot of political and religious unrest. And if that description piques your interest, you should read it. It's a debut novel, and the pacing is a bit uneven, but the premise carries a lot of weight, and it's clear the author knows her history, including church history/theology, and her paleontology.
Crying in H Mart by Michelle Zauner. This memoir of grief deserves all the accolades it's received, even if it did trigger a bit of a health anxiety spiral for me, since both my parents died of cancer, I'm the same age Zauner's mother was when she received her diagnosis, Pope Leo's cancer diagnosis was in the news, etc.
How to Read a Dress by Lydia Edwards. A look at 500 years of fashion history, focused heavily but not exclusively on the Anglosphere. I didn't read every single word, because reading every single detailed caption on each dress illustration would've been dreadfully dry, but it was an enjoyable and informative look at the evolution of styles--in a combination of gradual change and punctuated equilibrium--and how echoes of the past show up in later garments.
The Well is Deep: COVID Through a Chaplain's Eyes by Hillary Kimsey. Full disclaimer: Hillary and I are acquaintances and Facebook friends through our shared participation in the relatively small world of active Episcopalians in the greater Seattle area--I met her when she was filling in as a supply priest when ours was out of town, or maybe after our last priest resigned but before we got an interim in? Anyway, I've met her, she's awesome, and we also share membership in the ex-Southern Baptist gone progressive and high church club, such as it is.
That said, Hillary's COVID experience was pretty much the opposite of mine. Because of the nature of my and my husband's work and the fact our son was in high school by then, we were able to hunker down, basically shelter in place, and socially distance to the point it's almost more cozy in my memory than scary. (Which is not to say it wasn't also traumatic, with long-term impacts on everything from how our social network is still smaller than it was in 2019 to how I think it kinda blighted and delayed the transition to independent adulthood for my son and other kids who found themselves trapped inside in just those mid to late-teen years that are normally about stepping into independence.)
But Hillary was a hospital chaplain in Seattle, which y'all may remember was the first covid hotspot in the US. That made her witness to all of the worst of it, from the most harrowing early days when there wasn't enough PPE to go around for hospital staff, we didn't have good treatments, family members couldn't be with their dying loved ones, etc., to the rise of the anti-vax movement where there were protesters picketing outside the hospital, patients refusing treatment or asking for useless stuff like ivermectin, and so on.
Still, I ended up relating to the stress and trauma of her experience, for a very personal reason: my husband was laid off from a high-paying job in September 2024, leaving me as the sole wage earner in our family for the past TWO YEARS. And while my job is steady, stable, and provides great benefits...I work for a state university. I am NOT highly paid. It's been so stressful, though I've tried to be as strong, stoic, and cheeful as I could because I wasn't the one going through this endless job search in a terrible job market for my field.
Anyway, just before I started reading this book, my husband got a job offer. It's still not official-official--he has to pass a background check and sign the paperwork--but it's like 99% official. And when we found out, about an hour later I noticed that my shoulders felt really strange. They were LOOSE. It didn't feel like I had this knot of rubber bands between my shoulder blades anymore. I'd gotten so used to carrying stress I couldn't even recognize it for what it was anymore. Which had me nodding along as I read--I may have been luckier than most in my pandemic experience, but I do know about carrying a long burden of trauma that you've tried to ignore or deny because other people have it worse and it's your job to be strong.
Carl's Doomsday Scenario by Matt Dinniman. So, yeah, I'm reading this series now. Carl, Donut, and Mongo have hooked me.
50 Keystone Fauna Species of the Pacific Northwest by Collin Varner. A quick skim-read I picked up on a whim from my local library branch. For each species, from the large and spectacular grizzly bears, orcas, ospreys and the like all the way down to slugs, sea urchins, and yellow jackets, the book looks at their critical role in supporting the local ecosystem (hence, "keystones").
Behold, America by Sarah Churchwell. A history of the phrases "America First" and "the American Dream," and how their meanings evolved, mostly in contrast to each other, over the 20th century. The focus is on the period roughly 1915-1945, but the parallels to our current state are both implicit and occasionally explicit.
Weapons of Worship by Rick Pidcock. I wish this book was more what I'd expected based on the title--an in-depth look at current evangelical worship music, how it compares with earlier evangelical hymns and worship songs and/or with the music found in Catholic and mainline/progressive Protestant spaces, along with a deep dive into the role of worship music in right wing protests and rallies. There was some of that, but it felt a bit scattershot to me, and would be hard to follow for someone without a broad familiarity with the religious right.
Asterix and the Picts by Jean-Yves Ferri. I picked this up from my local library on a whim because I needed a book in translation for a LibraryThing challenge. I'd heard of the Asterix comics, but I'd never actually read one. It's deeply silly, and it made me giggle a bit.
Fannie's Last Supper by Chris Kimball. Wherein the author put together a team to recreate a 12-course dinner from 1896, using the methods, ingredients, and equipment of the time insofar as possible. It had many interesting tidbits of culinary history and Boston history (that being the home base for both Kimball and Fannie Farmer), but it's a bit scattershot, and it doesn't really recreate a meal from Fannie Farmer's cookbook--Kimball uses it as a springboard, but isn't that impressed with most of the recipes and freely adapts them and substitutes similar recipes from the turn of the century before last. Which isn't a bad thing, necessarily, but it does mean the book isn't quite what it says on the tin.
Spooky Rivers by Geo Rutherford. A seasonal read for me, as I finished it on the last day of the author's annual Spooky Lake Month video series.