THE WAY OF KINGS – Brandon Sanderson

“Szeth-son-son-Vallano, Truthless of Shinovar, wore white on the day he was to kill a king… White to be bold. White to not blend into the night. White to give warning. For if you were going to assassinate a man, he was entitled to see you coming.”

“They were not demons, they were just men who had too much power and not enough sense.”

“The name of someone I should have loved. Once again, this is a thing I stole. It is something thieves do.”

Confession time: I avoided Brandon Sanderson in part because of the sheer volume of his catalog, but mostly because I first knew of him when he was tapped to complete Robert Jordan’s Wheel of Time series. Here’s the confession – I didn’t like the first half of the first book of series, and I stopped my journey after book one. Second confession – I DNF’d the first book in the Game of Thrones series; I didn’t like the storytelling style or the character building, particularly the female character building, but I DNF’d simply because of one phrase. (And I don’t DNF!) All that to say, I decided male authored epic fantasy just wasn’t my thing.

When I’m wrong, I’m wrong.

Because Brandon Sanderson writes epic fantasy in a way that reminds me of finding a book in the library, dropping to crisscross apple sauce right in the aisle, and starting right then and there. Of reading while walking and eating. Of staying up late and waking up early, a book under the covers. Of becoming head over heels invested in a world and a cast of characters. Of an untethered imagination.

I started my Sanderson journey with The Stormlight Archive, and I have zero regrets.  Every word in this 1001-page novel served a purpose. The character building is phenomenal as is the world building. A lot of times in fantasy, there is an information dump that slogs everything down. I was told The Way of Kings starts off slowly but is steamrolling along by page 800ish, and I was prepared for a slog of a dump. There’s no dump. No slog. It’s not all sword-clashing action, but it is most definitely action-packed. I will admit to being least drawn to Dalinar at the beginning and more to Kal, but that shifted toward the end as we started on the so-called Sanderlanche. With Shallan, I wanted both more and less of her. And Wit, well, I have a feeling Wit is a bit of Sanderson that is going to show up in everything he writes.

There are a lot of gems in the novel – one of my favorites being the notes women write in the books they scribe to “correct” the men who are dictating the words. (Most men can’t read or write because it’s a feminine endeavor.)

There’s a lot more I can say, but since 2025 is going to be my year of Sanderson, I’m sure I’ll get to saying it eventually.  The Way of Kings is near perfect, and I’m very excited for my Cosmere journey.

Come to the Sanderson side.  It has jam.

Read this book.

COUNTING THE COST – Jill Duggar

While doing my latest book nook, I listened to Counting the Cost, Jill Duggar’s 2023 memoir that was written with her husband, Derick Dillard, and Craig Borlase.  I had watched the Duggars with a bit of morbid fascination throughout the years, much like most reality TV, and was even more captivated when the religious house of cards came tumbling down. As truths about what the sisters endured and what their parents hid in the name of faith and the powers of TLC tumbled out in the media, I gobbled it up. Voyeuristic. I was a part of the problem.  And this memoir seems to feed that same morbid desire to peel back the skin and see how her heart beats. But, and this is the important part, this memoir is a young woman reclaiming a narrative.

Jill Duggars story was written over by her parents then by TLC then by the media. This memoir was important more so for her than for us, and I can appreciate that. I still wonder how much of the voice is her and how much is her husband’s and how much remains the echoes of her parents, but it’s undoubtedly reclaiming her narrative and taking control.

How she handles the situation with her brother and the trauma surrounding it is done delicately and with grace. She sets boundaries with what she tells and how she tells it, and I commend her for that.  I also appreciate the role faith played in her childhood and her decisions later in life. Despite everything she went through with her family and her faith, and faith seems steadfast and more determined though different that what her father had intended. It’s a growth that is refreshing to see when I think back to the early seasons of the show.

The audio book was read by Jill. As I’m trying to do more audiobooks, I am finding myself leaning into books read by the authors, and I thought she did an excellent job with some areas that have to be tough for her.  (Her brief British accent is hilarious.)

This memoir isn’t for everyone, but I think it’s an excellent closure on a chapter that exposed so much of her life to our prying, and I wish her happiness, peace, and privacy.

CONFESSIONS – Catherine Airey

When I saw Catherine Airey’s Confessions (1.14.25 Mariner Books) being compared to The Goldfinch, I groaned.  I’m serious. I audibly groaned. I think The Goldfinch is one of the more overrated novels of my time, and I still hold the opinion that the story deserved to have someone different tell it, someone with a less pretentious style and more likeable characters. I’m pleased to say other than art, terrorism and drugs factoring heavily, the comparison is unfair. It’s sweeter, softer and more I’d say it’s more Jonathan Safran Foer meets Louise Kennedy meets The Rachel Incident, and with those comparisons in mind, it’s no wonder I loved it.

The novel is unapologetically a series of puzzle pieces, working together to a satisfying though far from neat conclusion.  It opens with Cora in New York in 2001. Her father works at the World Trade Center. Her mother has died by suicide. She’s a lost teen trying to find something to ground her – whether that’s with Kyle or drugs or both, she wants to be hollow and full at the same time. She is unmoored. Then 9/11 strikes and she finds herself an orphan. She receives a letter from Roisin, an aunt she didn’t know existed.

The novel then thrusts us back to 1974 where Roisin lives in her older sister’s shadow, craving her light and affection. Maire is a talented artist, and Roisin conspires with her sister’s boyfriend to get her into an artistic residency of sorts at the old schoolhouse that had longed served as the muse for both sisters. Perhaps this moment is when everything changed.

On the heels of Roisin’s section, we return to New York in 1979 with Maire and follow along as madness and brokenness bleed on the canvas. She is unmoored. Alone. Floundering.  A blink, and we’re back in Ireland, where Roisin is trying to ground herself without her sister, to find purpose and love. The distance between the two sisters a screaming abyss.

The last third of the book brings us to 2018 with Lyca, Cora’s daughter, and takes to both Ireland and New York as the pieces of the puzzle slowly fall into place.  The broken, jagged, infected pieces of the puzzle.

It’s a beautiful novel of sisterhood and secrets, with sparks of madness and imagination. Framed by Scream School, a “choose your own adventure” computer game about two sisters trying to escape a boarding school in County Donegal, the unique novel digs deep into the relationship between Roisin and Maire and the choices neither sister could change. It’s soft and heartbreaking and raw.

Read this book.

A huge thanks to the publisher for this advanced copy.

*I did note one British-ism that showed up in a New York hospital that hopefully was corrected prior to the final version as it was entirely out of place based on location and character speaking.  (Theatre was used instead of operating room.)

BRAIDING SWEETGRASS – Robin Wall Kimmerer

One of my 2025 resolutions is to read more non-fiction and to use mundane tasks as opportunities to be more intentional with my time.  Enter audiobooks (and laundry!).  My first read of the year was Robin Wall Kimmerer’s 2013 release, Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge, and the Teachings of Plants (Milkweed Editions). Kimmerer, a poet and scientist, uses language, personal experiences, generational trauma, science, and oral traditions to echo a call to protect nature that has resounded since man decided to destroy it. The audio was narrated by Kimmerer, the warmth of her voice pulling the listener close, like children snuggled in bed awaiting fairytales or lit by the glow of a campfire breathlessly listening to ghost stories. And Braiding Sweetgrass certainly has its share of ghosts, villains, and heroes.  The question it raises, however, is what role you will play as the future of the planet is written in the destruction and desolation of the past and the indifference and continued devastation of the present.

Never overly preachy though at times redundant, Kimmerer reminds us that we are stewards of the land and not owners, differentiates between gifts and commercialism and how gifts can impact society, and stresses the importance of a good and thankful harvest – this is an area I would like to improve upon in my life. I want to nurture the earth and grow things that in turn nurture me.  I was raised to be grateful and thankful for the deer and fish that graced my table growing up as well as the butter beans in the pot and the hands that had shelled them. I was also taught the importance of sharing the harvest. That food was always far more delicious than what came from supermarket shelves. My thankfulness and appreciation were wrapped in faith and kissed by rural NC, but the concepts have the same sweetness.

My favorite section of the collection was “Witch Hazel,” which is a recollection of one of Kimmerer’s daughters about their time in Kentucky and Kimmerer’s friendship with a woman named Hazel. The descriptions of the abandoned home, with remnants of the lives that thrived there, and the connections with the people that were nurtured for years in that unspoken give and take of community were just beautifully depicted.

This is a call. A call of salamanders, geese, maple trees, and wild berries. A call to neither be a participant in the destruction nor a passive witness.  Remember, there is no planet B.

Read this book.

SONGBIRDS – Christy Lefteri

“One day, Nisha vanished and turned to gold. She turned to gold in the eyes of the creature that stood before me. She turned to gold in the morning sky and in the music of the birds.”

I ended my 2024 having read 68 books – far less than my goal, but considering the way my apple cart was upset, I’m happy with it.  The last read of the year was a devastating beautiful read that left me a bit conflicted with my thoughts.  I should have loved Christy Lefteri’s Songbirds, and there were moments that made me remember why I love reading, but there were also moments where I thought things fell just a touch short for me. 

Short story long – this is a story of immigrant domestic workers, the lives they touch, and how unseen and undervalued they are. Set in Cyprus, the novel opens just after Nisha, a Sri Lankan domestic, has vanished. She worked for Petra, a widow, and has cared for Petra’s daughter, Aliki, since she was born – having left her own daughter in Sri Lanka in order to work. Aliki’s connection with Nisha is stronger than with her mother – the food, the warmth, the stories, the laughter – they all came from Nisha.

Nisha’s lover rents the space above them from Petra.  Petra has no idea he’s been seeing her maid.  (And would have undoubtedly forbidden it.) Only after Nisha disappears does Petra begin to see how her maid had touched those around her, and Yiannis is no exception.  Yiannis, a former banker turned forager who is actually a poacher, captures and kills songbirds during their migration, selling the illegal delicacies to restaurants and bars and down back allies.  High risk means high reward, and folks pay a killing for the small birds, but Yiannis wants out of the criminal enterprise.  It’s not that easy though.  The sections depicting poaching animals are devastatingly brutal yet exquisitely written. While I found the sections unsettling, they’re ultimately not what created conflict or fell flat – my issue lies with the character of Petra and her “woe is me. I never saw my maid as a person before now” song and dance, and the weight her voice carries in the story.  How I wish other domestics or even Aliki carried those sections.

It’s a wonderfully crafted novel and the writing is much like a songbird, gorgeously haunting in spite of the plot, but wasn’t quite that five star read.

SOMEONE LIKE US – Dinaw Mengestus

“You look for ruin. And if you can’t find it, you make it.”

My top read of the year came as a surprise right at the tail end of December. I was gifted Dinaw Mengestu’s Someone Like Us (Knopf 2024)  by the publisher earlier this year. With life in the way, I didn’t get around to it as quickly as I had wanted, but I picked it up just after Christmas. Boy, am I glad I did. Certain books just tick all my boxes, and this one did.

Meet Mamush, our extremely unreliable narrator, born in the US to a single woman who’d fled her Ethiopian home and now living in Paris with his wife and infant son, unable to chase the demons that are generational. He’s on his way back to the States to visit his mother and Samuel, the father figure who undoubtedly shares his DNA but doesn’t get the title, and decides to detour to Chicago, where they’d all lived before moving to DC. The novel takes us along his journey, as he walks into the past and his memories, and Samuel’s life unfurls, mingling into Mamush’s memories, like the flag of a country Samuel can’t bring himself to return to.

We know from the first few pages that Samuel has been found dead in the garage before Mamush arrives.  Someone Like Us is brilliantly woven, taxis and maps continuously grounding us and Mamush as he struggles with the present, the past, and escaping them both while trying to find answers as to why Samuel was found dead in the garage, an apparent death by suicide.

I’ve seen no buzz for this book, and I am floored. I’ve read a lot of prize winners and nominees for various literary awards this year, and this novel, by leaps and bounds, is my top read.  Everyone should read this book. 

I’LL COME TO YOU – Rebecca Kauffman

I’m trying to get a bit better at getting my reviews in for ARCS before the book is published, and I’m patting myself on the back with this one because Rebecca Kauffman’s I’ll Come to You (Counterpoint 2024) has an expected publication date of 1/7/2025. (Thank you to the publisher for gifting me this finished copy!)  If family sagas and domestic fiction are your jam, go ahead and preorder or put your library holds in.  It’s a slim volume of intertwined stories of one family, but it is so beautifully and intricately told.

The novel spans from January 1995 to December 1995, following recently divorced Ellen as she tries to juggle her continued confusion over the divorce, figuring how holidays will work, hoping for grandchildren, and entering the dating scene; her son, Paul and daughter-in-law, Corinne, who are juggling fertility issues followed by pregnancy and parenthood in addition to family drama; Corinne’s parents, Janet and Bruce, who are juggling aging, the early stages of dementia, and regrets; and Corinne’s brother, Rob, a divorced middle aged man who has a difficult relationship with the truth but who is drowning in loss following the custody order.

It’s a beautiful novel, with each voice inherently unique.  At times delicate and devastating, it is quite the perfect read for right after the holidays.

Read this book.

A NOVEL LOVE STORY – Ashley Poston

I’m likely not the best person to listen to when it comes to reviewing romance.  That said, I tried really hard to like Ashley Poston’s A Novel Love Story (Berkley 2024), but it fell way flat for me.  The premise is cute enough – a woman who loves romance novels heads to a cabin for a weeklong of reading by herself, takes a wrong turn, and ends up in the fictional town of her favorite book series. The potential of the setup was so exciting.  The execution, however, was meh.

Elsy winds up in Eloraton, the fictional town of her favorite romance series.  The author of the series had tragically and unexpectedly died, and the characters are a bit in a rut.  (Much like Elsy.) There is one character, Anders, that Elsy cannot place in any of the books.  They have instant hate followed by almost instant love, and it annoyed the mess out of me.

There are lovely moments and some delicious descriptions, but overall, this missed every mark. The magical realism aspect seemed half-assed, the romance was only used out of convenience and to pivot the plot or create drama, which is fine, I guess, if there is at least chemistry that can read on the page.  The failing of the novel is, honestly, that it’s a romance.  If this had more of a Big Fish-esque feel of Elsy finding her spark and her identity again in this fictional town through helping these fictional characters whose author had died before finishing their plotlines, and ended with her leaving Anders and the town behind to live her life, I’d likely have enjoyed it far more. (Provided the magical realism aspect was handled correctly.)

Spoiler to come.

I actually thought the set up was to have Elsy take on the series, especially when she found the area with the drafts and bits and pieces of stories. She could have given them all a HEA and Anders never had to be “real” for her to do it. In addition to a plot that had me groan, the writing is repetitive and often dull, not enchanting and whimsical, and there are only so many descriptions I need of his green eyes.

Things I like: The cover. I also enjoyed the description of the town, and the actual set up of the fictional romance series.  I would have likely enjoyed reading about that damn possum instead of this.  This novel seems a bit of a love letter to readers, but I think it falls a bit flat.  Ally Carter hit that note a bit sweeter in The Most Wonderful Crime of the Year.

If you typically like romances, give it a go, I guess.

THE MOST WONDERFUL CRIME OF THE YEAR – Ally Carter

While heading home for Christmas, I decided to listen to an audio book.  (I usually get one or two audio books in a year, but it’s really not my reading preference.) I settled on Ally Carter’s The Most Wonderful Crime of the Year (Avon 2024), and I’m so glad I did.  What a delicious holiday candy book this was.  And I mean delicious.

The Most Wonderful Crime of the Year is an enemies-to-lovers, cozy , locked room mystery that is a heck of a lot of fun. Imagine playing a real-life game of CLUE with a coworker you loathe at a gorgeous and mysterious mansion in the English countryside, and you get the idea.  Now make the coworkers mystery and big thrill authors and the owner of the home  the most famous author of their publishing imprint –  Eleanor Ashley, the Duchess of Death. Near perfection.

Cozy mystery writer Maggie Chase is in a bit of slump. Recently divorced after she found out her husband and best friend were having a long-term affair, she’s not in the most festive of moods. Her editor convinces her to take an invite to spend the holidays with “her biggest fan.” She finds out too late her arch nemesis, author Ethan Wyatt, a thriller author with a huge social media presence and throngs of adoring female fans, is also invited. Ethan refuses to learn her name, calling her Marcie regardless of the fact they’re both published at the same company, and they’ve met numerous times. Maggie is not amused and dreading this holiday until she realizes the “fan” is none other than Eleanor Ashley.  Surrounded by Eleanor’s family, all with questionable motives, Eleanor vanishes from a locked room. Is it part of the game or is she truly in danger?

What unfolds is a closed room mystery that throws Maggie and Ethan together in an attempt to solve the case of the missing Duchess of Death.  It’s just fun and was the perfect read for me leading up to Christmas. It’s also the perfect read for folks who find friendships and lifelines in the books they read.

Things I didn’t like? The cover, when the male narrator uses his “Maggie” voice, and Maggie’s repeated proclamation that they hate each other. Things I liked?  Everything else.  It really is a fun read.

Read this book.