A Big Novel Doing Big Things

"A reader lives a thousand lives before he dies, the man who never reads lives only one."  —George R.R. Martin

I’ve never been a math girl, but I hope to skyrocket past a thousand lives. I think Rae’s already there. (She dusted off a few good reads in the womb.) LitHub, of all people, has done some math for me. Accounting for different types of readers and life expectancy rates based on gender, here are some sobering stats surrounding potential numbers of books I’ll get to read before I die: 

55 and female: 86 (31 years left)
Average reader: 372
Voracious reader: 1,550
Super reader: 2,480

Think about these numbers for a minute. They’re downright scary. I can’t wrap my noggin around the idea of meeting fewer than 400 more protagonists. Friends really. Of course, fear isn’t rational. I read well beyond the average 12 books a year. I revel in living colorful, unique, sometimes eye-opening and inspirational lives. No surprise there.

I’m elated to have lived for a time in the small town of Everton, New Hampshire. The Starlings are an unforgettable bunch. At the family’s helm is Clive—an eccentric poetry professor who plays in a band called Blacker Sabbath, hallucinates by way of seeing animals, and talks to the ghost of a naturalist patterned after Doctor Doolittle. Clive is dying. He has a terminal brain disease. His daughter Emma, born with natural healing powers, pretends to attend medical school in far away California. The prodigal daughter returns to Everton to face not only her dad’s deteriorating condition but town judgements because her ambitious life plan has gone awry. She and her quirky, dementia ridden, sometimes embarrassing father join forces to find Emma’s best friend (turned Heroin addict) who goes missing and is believed by all to be dead. Well not exactly “all”—residents of the Maple Street Cemetery who are optimistically sunny despite being dead, they believe in Clive and Emma’s rescue mission.

Annie Hartnett is clever. I love that she chose Everton’s dead to narrate her novel. Unlikely Animals is classified as tragicomic—a book that blends aspects of both tragic and comic forms—a narrative that explores heartbreaking aspects of life alongside lighthearted and laughter-inducing moments. I laughed out loud several times. I’m with the reviewer who said, “This is a big novel doing big things….[Hartnett] explores how we construct the miraculous after our promise has left us, and challenges us to dream through disillusionment even as suffering derails us.” Now that’s a lesson for the ages, definitely one I need to learn.

P.S. I will, without a doubt, be reading Hartnett’s first novel Rabbit Cake.

Posted by Tracy

The Stars Are Calling

“April hath put a spirit of youth in everything.”  —Shakespeare

Except for me, oh Bard of Avon. April hath put a spirit of fatigue in this old girl’s bones. Yes, there’s far too much work. But I think the lethargy has as much to do with the fact that it’s been five years this month since my sweet momma passed away. Missing her never wanes. Thankfully, Lady Di equipped me with so many good memories. All these years later, a goofy grin crosses my face whenever I think of my mom saying, “Some authors only have one winner in them.” More often than not, she was referring to Harper Lee—the Southern genius who funneled all of her glitter and gold into one solitary brilliant and timeless classic. I mean, how do you top To Kill A Mockingbird? Ranked just behind the Bible in 2009 as “the most inspirational book of all time,” Harper Lee knocked it out of the park into the literary stratosphere.

Do not think for one minute that I believe Harper Lee couldn’t craft other winners. After all, she helped Truman Capote write In Cold Blood, the first true crime novel. The question is how do you write a second novel that also rockets out of the earth’s atmosphere? I say we ask Georgia Hunter. If you haven’t read We Were The Lucky Ones, you are missing out. An unbelievable true story that is mind-blowing at times. Lauren Belfer, New York Times bestselling author, had this to say: “We Were the Lucky Ones is the most gripping novel I've read in years. Georgia Hunter pulled me into another world, vivid, horrifying, astonishing, and heartbreaking.” If you haven’t read WWTLO, you really should.

Then you can read One Good Thing as a chaser. Lili Passigili, the protagonist in Hunter’s latest, is a truly inspiring human. Like Rae, she is a once-in-a-lifetime friend. She and Esti meet in college. They form a bond that’s as strong as it is natural—and beautiful. In 1940 Italy, the girls encounter problems because they’re Jewish. When their problems grow exponentially, Esti pleads with Lili to take her son, Theo, and flee through war-torn, Nazi-occupied towns for safer Allied territories. Like the Kurcs’ experience, Lili’s journey is fraught with unimaginable horrors, biting pain, and lingering grief. But there is also spectacular courage, stirring resilience, and shining hope. Hurrah to the reviewer who shared, “Gripping. . . At once a riveting wartime story and a tender tribute to friendship, One Good Thing considers the small acts of kindness and the undergirding love that can sustain people through difficult times.” Way to go, Georgia. You poured some good hope into me.

Posted by Tracy

Blessed Are The Hearts That Bend

The world breaks everyone and afterward many are strong at the broken places.” —Ernest Hemingway A Farewell to Arms

What do Pat Solitano (think Silver Linings Playbook), Papa Hemingway, and Claire Leslie Hall have in common? Anyone wanna venture a guess? I bet there’s more than one possible response. Since it’s my riddle, here’s my answer: all three understood that “The world will break your heart ten ways to Sunday. That’s guaranteed.” My semi-idealistic self can buy into bruised or scathed, but brokenness? I mean, Unbroken remains one of my hands-down favorite stories, as the war only almost swallows Louie’s soul. His belief and resiliency are ultimately bigger than his inconceivable challenges. I like that idea. While I know hearts invariably break, I think the trick is to teach our hearts to bend more often than not.

My latest read, Broken Country, has got me thinking that there’s a way back from collapse. That things can be fixed. When a young Beth Kennedy unsuspectingly falls head over heels in love with the charming, precocious, and privileged Gabriel Wolfe, she dreams of a blissful future together. Their relationship, not their love, ends abruptly after a heated miscommunication. Stubbornness prevails. Frank, who’s as practical as he is kind, helps Beth right her heart. They marry. Her life on Blakely farm in the English countryside proves serene. (The book’s setting is a lovely character in and of itself that makes me crave stillness, peace, and England even more.) Their quiet life turns on a dime when a stray dog attacks some of their sheep. The dog’s owner? Gabriel’s son, Leo. You’ll have to read on to see how this layered, complicated story unfolds. Inevitably, you’ll consider how one singular decision has the power to change the entire trajectory of a life. I love that Hall doesn’t cave in and offer a comfortable ending. Instead, she allows us to sit with her characters’ choices. To feel the weight of their consequences. She reminds us that we can become strong in broken places. Beautifully and poignantly, Broken Country underscores this truth: blessed are the hearts that bend.

P.S. I completely agree with the reviewer who said, “[this] novel does not grip you by the throat—it settles into your bones. If you are looking for a story that unfolds with patience, depth, and emotional complexity, Broken Country is one worth reading.”

One final note: Frank’s integrity gripped me. Similar to Atticus Finch, his goodness has stayed with me—it’s settling in my bones.

Posted by Tracy

JoJo's Mojo

“Life is good when you spend it with [characters] who make your heart happy.”  

Life is short. We all know we should spend it with people who make us laugh and feel loved—which, of course, are just two of the reasons I love to spend time with Rae. Doesn’t it stand to reason then that we should spend time with characters who make us laugh? Characters who make us think and feel? Let me just say that it’s true, life is good when you spend it with characters who ultimately make you happy that you got to know them.

If I sound like a book nerd, it’s because I am. At 2@27, we have our favorite authors—that’s no secret. We’re especially fond of writers who create memorable and inspiring characters. We can always count on JoJo’s mojo. Jodi Picoult’s right: “Nobody writes women the way JoJo Moyes does.” Lila Kennedy, the female protagonist in We All Live Here, spoke to me. I could really relate to her. For one, she has a whole lot on her plate. Check. What’s more, she unwittingly had her world turned upside down. Big ol check. Plus, she has the pressure of providing for her family. Yet another check. Have I mentioned that she has a BFF who keeps her sane? The only time Lila got under my skin was when, bright as she is, she fell for a charmer with a gift for breadcrumbing. But I forgave her because this is a story about forgiveness. Lila and I can both attest that even fractured families can find strength and wholeness thanks to the indisputable power of love. I’ll let Lisa Jewell have the last word here: “Jojo Moyes is as wise, funny, and glorious as ever with We All Live Here.”

Posted by Tracy

Still Suffering from Weltschmerz, Darling?

"A fairy tale is a lie that tells the truth."  —Unknown 

Remember, ages ago, when Rae taught us about Weltschmerz via Sheldon Cooper? (Ahh, Sheldon!) If you need a refresher, don’t worry. It’s been a minute. Weltschmerz is the depression that arises from comparing the world as it is to a hypothetical idealized world. In my idealized world, I would have read The Snow Child by Eowyn Ivey when I bought myself and Rae a copy. (Rae blogged about Ivey’s debut novel a week or two later.) In the world as it is, I’m just now experiencing the Pulitzer Prize finalist’s writing in her latest Black Woods, Blue Sky. Someone, anyone, help me bridge the gap.

Ivey’s latest protagonist, Birdie, tries to bridge the gap between her reality— young single mom who struggles with the weight of parenthood while trying to make ends meet as a bartender in a remote Alaskan lodge—and the world she dreams of living in, where gorgeous (and dangerous) nature is front and center. Where her wild spirit can roam free. She craves a faraway place where time and rules don’t exist. Not surprisingly, Birdie is attracted to a recluse named Arthur. Arthur not only rescues her daughter Emaleen when she’s lost in the woods, but he also lives underneath the blue sky in the black woods permanently. When Birdie and Emaleen move to Arthur’s small cabin deep in the Alaskan forest, they experience both the magical and the mystical. They also experience firsthand the power of hidden identity. Black Woods Blue Sky is aptly referred to as “a dark fairytale.” Pick up Ivey’s latest and read on if you love exquisite writing and enthralling storytelling. Read on in search of a lie that tells the truth.

P.S. I hate to even say this: I suspect this book isn’t for everyone. If you are a literal reader who struggles with suspending reality, this may not be your cup of tea. I wish I could drink it all over again. 

Posted by Tracy

A Man Called Fred

“People forget facts. But they remember stories.”  —Joseph Campbell

You can say that again, Joseph. These days I’m struggling to remember stuff. Facts keep escaping me. What I wouldn’t give for a long winter’s nap right about now. Since my waking hours aren’t shrinking, I’ll have to settle (not settle) for a really great story. Fortunately, I discovered The Borrowed Life of Frederick Fife. I was enticed by comparisons to A Man Called Ove. I’m happy to report Anna Johnston’s debut novel about a man called Fred was up to Backman snuff.

At 82, I hope I’m not down on my luck. Poor Fred finds himself in dire straits as he can no longer cover rent in the wake of his dearly departed’s monumental medical bills. Imagine Fred’s surprise (and guilt-ridden delight) when he passes for a nursing home resident named Bernard. Unlike his doppelgänger, Fred is upbeat and uniquely kind. Not only does he mend Bernard’s walls, but he manages to improve the lives of people all around him. At 82, I hope I demonstrate Fred’s propensity to love without conditions. And to frankly forgive. I’m so glad I met him—you should meet him too. I’m with author Richard Roper: The Borrowed Life of Frederick Fife is “the warm hug of a novel we all need in our lives.”

P.S. Now I want to read Miss Benson’s Beetle again.

Posted by Tracy

Kaleidoscope Writer

“Books won’t solve my problems, Harriet.”  

“No, but they give your problems perspective. They allow your problems to breathe.”

Monica Wood feels like an imaginary muse. Imaginary because I can’t seem to get words on a page with any type of consistency these days. (Don’t believe me? Look at the date of my last post. So sorry.) To quote Rae, who announced MW’s The One-In-A-Million Boy as our long-ago book club selection, “We’re…tired and time challenged.” Nearly eight years later we’re still baby-steppin. The good news is we’re still reading Monica Wood. I’m happy to report that she has, in fact, given me perspective and simultaneously allowed my problems to breathe via her latest How To Read a Book.  Once again, she’s written a “beautiful, big-hearted treasure of a novel.”

When asked what prompted the prize-winning author to write this book, Wood admitted that she grappled with depression and thought of “hanging up her quill once and for all,” but a distant monologue in her head persisted. It was a fictional character named Violet waiting to be born. I’m so glad I got to know Violet—a 22-year-old who learned (the hard way) that we are not the worst thing we have ever done. Sadly, she killed a kindergarten teacher because of a drunk-induced car crash. Fortunately, she met Harriet in prison. I love Harriet. Adore her. She’s a retired English teacher who introduces female inmates to the likes of Yeats, Maya Angelou, Fitzgerald and other winners. Edith Wharton too. I will be reading Spoon River Anthology soon and wishing I was in Harriet’s weekly book club. Her perspective, and later Violet’s, is a big broad spectrum of colors: it’s gold, green, red, and blue. I’m so grateful lovely Monica Wood didn’t hang up her quill—that she added bright hues to my perception of the world.

P.S. Frank is worthy of mentioning here—he’s such a gem.

One final note: I pledge to focus on “the meanwhile.” If you want to know what that means, you’ll have to read this five-star book.

Posted by Tracy

Our Grown-Up Christmas List

“And now we welcome the new year. Full of things that have never been.” —Rilke

Happy 2025! Whaddayasay we start the new year off right and talk about winning reads. My sister, Nin, phoned yesterday to say she finished All the Glimmering Stars on her Christmas vacation. She gushed over Mark Sullivan’s latest. We readily agreed we’re far wealthier girls for having met the remarkable Opokas. It’s hard to resist a guide to being a good human. If you haven’t read All the Glimmering Stars, you really should. You’ll be so glad you did.

I’ve shocked myself semi-silly because I finished another book on our grown-up Christmas List. Maybe 2025 is going to be our year! (Rae and I verbally put that out into the universe so it’s bound to happen, right?) I ended the year on a high note. I ended the year reading Jayne Anne Phillips’ Night Watch. It appears the 2024 Pulitzer Prize winner I carefully wrapped to rest under Rae’s immaculate Christmas tree has received mixed reviews. Not everyone is up for a novel that probes some of the devastating aspects of war. Phillips introduces us to vivid characters like a defaced night watchman who, after miraculously surviving soldiering in the Civil War, protects the occupants of the Trans-Allegheny Lunatic Asylum. But the most important people in the story are Eliza and her 12-year-old daughter, ConaLee who fall prey to a maniacal and abusive Confederate soldier. You’ll have to read Phillips’ stunning pages to find out how they heal in a madhouse (of all places).

I second this author’s appraisal— “Jayne Anne Phillips is a wonderfully gifted storyteller…in this marvelous new novel, largely set in a factual nineteenth-century asylum, she achieves even more: history and imagination merge, and she gives the past a living pulse.” She gives life to small moments of amazing grace.

Posted by Tracy