I'd read so much about Jane Harper's The Dry when it came out last January that I finally bought a copy myself. Then I chickened out because I just didn't want to read a book focusing on a triple murder, no matter how good. With Harper's second book due out in early February, a book I'm very intrigued by, I wanted to read her first book before the second. And I'm so glad I did. This is the first in a series featuring officer Aaron Falk. In this one he returns home to Kiwarra, Australia to attend his friend Luke's funeral. The friend, his wife, and their young son were murdered, and the murders were pinned on Luke. Luke's parents ask Falk to look into the crimes to be sure it really was Luke who committed them. A subplot is the long-ago death of Aaron and Luke's friend, which many always assumed Falk had something to do with. The reader gains information for both cases simultaneously. This is a very well done mystery. It's well-written, the characters are believable, and the plot moves briskly and keeps you guessing. This one also has a strong sense of setting, one of my favorite things to find in a book. Set in drought-stricken Australia where tempers are high and money is short, you can feel the oppression and punishment of the place. I listened to this on audio, which was very good. I might suggest reading it though, so as not to miss anything. While the murders and crime scene are described in detail, there isn't a lot of dwelling on the details afterward. Still, this is a grittier book than some may be used to. There's some brawling, and there's some scene-appropriate swearing. I highly recommend this book if you're looking for a good mystery/thriller, and now I'm really looking forward to Harper's next book, Force of Nature. My rating: 4.5 stars.
I purchased a copy of Salt, Fat, Acid, Heat for the library, and ever since paging through it when it came in, I'd wanted to read it. But it was checked out every time I looked, so I bought my own copy. The book made a rather large splash in the cookbook world when it came out, and I can see why. It really is a comprehensive look at the four elements of good cooking: salt, fat, acid, and heat. These, the author argues, are the four ways you can create, change, or bring out the flavor of food. She gives ample attention to each element, then includes 200 pages of recipes. (The book is well over 400 pages.) I was most interested to learn about acid, and I was not disappointed. Most of the recipes aren't really things I'd make myself, but there are a number of recipes for salad dressings that I'm glad to have. Also, there are charming illustrations throughout and whole-page pullout charts of flavor profiles and other things that are fascinating. I had a fun time reading through this. The author worked with Alice Waters at Chez Panisse, so she knows her stuff, and she's conversational and passionate throughout the book. I recommend this one for folks who want to go deeper in their study of cooking and flavors. It was a real revelation reading this that I knew so much of this already just by trial-and-error cooking in the past few decades, but the book taught me why and how what I've discovered is true. I would suggest that you read this one through instead of skipping to the parts you're most interested in, though, so there is a time investment. My rating: 4 stars. 
I read so many Best of 2017 lists that included The War That Saved My Life (though it came out in 2015) that I just had to read (actually, listen to) it myself. I have to tell you, I just do not understand the fuss. At all. I was disappointed with the oversimplified, unbelievable plot, that I really didn't want to finish it. Also, there was a lot of child abuse, and I don't know how a young girl could get through the book without being a little shattered. The story is this: Ada Smith is born with a clubfoot, and because of this, her mother confines her to their one-room flat with only a window over the streets of gritty London for entertainment. The mother is verbally, emotionally, and physically abusive (and that is all she is; the author doesn't give her a single redeeming quality nor describe a single moment of her being anything but abusive). This is 1939, and Ada's little brother, Jamie, whom she raises, is her only connection to the world. When London evacuates their children to the countryside in preparation for German bombing, Ada and her brother Jamie sneak onto one of the evacuating trains. Oh, because Ada taught herself to walk on her clubfoot after crawling all her life. They're taken in by a nice woman in the country, and the children bloom. Then mum comes back to take them home and the abuse starts again. Etc. It ends ambiguously enough to set up the second book in the series, The War I Finally Won (released last fall). I just couldn't like this book. It felt like it was ticking off boxes on an inclusivity checklist. In addition to the poverty, abuse, and Ada's disability, there are hints at the kindly caretaker being a lesbian which made me squirm. This isn't something I'd encourage a young girl to read. The one redeeming quality of the book is the complexity of Ada's feelings toward her mother and the caretaker. That part of the story was well done. But overall, it was much too black and white and uncomfortable for me, and I couldn't imagine giving it to a nine-year-old. My rating: 2.5 stars. 
In contrast to The War That Saved My Life, I also finished The Vanderbeekers of 141st Street, which was much more to my taste. The Vanderbeeker kids (who are bi-racial, but the races aren't identified), twins Isa and Jessie, Oliver, Hyacinth, and Laney, and their parents live on two floors of a brownstone in Harlem. Above them lives an older couple who adore the children, and above them lives the landlord, Mr. Beiderman, who has told the Vanderbeekers he will not be renewing their lease, and they have two weeks to pack up and leave. Oh, and it's Christmastime. Mr. Beiderman, whom no one has seen, and whom the children call "the Beiderman," dislikes the children and their noise. The children go into overdrive developing plots to win over the Beiderman so they can stay in their beloved home. Will they succeed? And what will they learn along the way? This book (the first in a series) reminds me of The Penderwick series. If you love the Penderwick girls, you'll like this one, too. It's a good, clean story full of humor and feelings and kid drama. I recommend it for the third and forth grade audience. My rating: 4 stars.
The first book I finished over break was The Ninth Hour by Alice McDermott. Years
ago, before I stopped reading fiction altogether for a decade or more,
McDermott’s Charming Billy was one of
the last novels I truly loved. There must be something about McDermott’s
writing that appeals to me, because The Ninth Hour is one of my favorite books
of last year. I think this one is something you either “get” or you don’t, that you
either love or you shrug off with a “meh” and move on. Well, I got it, and I
loved it. It’s a very quiet, low action, slim plot (again, you’re either going
to love that or you aren’t) about a widow and her little girl and the nuns who
look out for them for several decades. There’s friendship, forbidden love,
and lots of Catholic nuns (I think McDermott uses Catholicism in her books a
lot). It’s ultimately about service and devotion—both to the church and to our
friends and family. There’s a twist toward the end (which you’ll likely guess at along the
way) that makes the book what it is. This is a superb novel, in my opinion. I’ve
added several other McDermott books to my TBR after finishing it. My rating: 5
stars.
Dear Fahrenheit 451
was a wonderful little book about books. I just looked back and counted that I
read eight books about books this year, and this was definitely one of my
favorites. Most of the book is librarian Annie Spence’s letters to various
books, mostly books she loves, books she hates, and books she’s culling from
the library’s collection. It’s at times humorous and at times poignant. She
talks about titles you’ve either read or heard of, but also about esoteric
oddities lurking on the library shelves. The last part of the book is lists and
essay-ish pieces about books. I highly recommend this one for book lovers. It’s
one of my favorites—and I’ve read a lot of these books. I will caution you,
though, that there is a great deal of swearing in the book, and most of it is
gratuitous. If you caught Spence’s interview on the What Should I Read Next podcast, you might be surprised that the mild-mannered, quiet girl in the
interview was the same girl swearing a blue streak in this book. My rating: 4.5
stars.
I’m a confirmed Fredrik Backman fan, but I definitely have
enjoyed his novels more than his novellas. The
Deal of a Lifetime is his newest work, a novella of about 65 pages, easily
read in a sitting. It has a magical element, which isn’t something that ever
interests me, but some folks will like the book because of it. A successful
businessman who has a strained relationship with his son meets a little girl with
cancer. And then a sort of supernatural plot plays out. Perhaps if this were a
novel I’d have enjoyed it more; as it is, I had a lukewarm reaction to it. Some
readers will find it poignant and perhaps a bit uplifting. I just didn't find it terribly original. My rating: 3 stars.
One of my very favorite poems is Emily Dickinson’s poem
about making a prairie with bees and revery. If Bees Are Few takes its title from the last line in that short poem. This
collection was published in part to benefit the Bee Lab at the University of
Minnesota which is trying to save the bees. One might expect a collection like
this to be filled with local and little-known poets of lesser talent, but this was
a solid collection. The poems included were of good quality and by well-known
poets. It wasn’t too political, hammering home global warming stats or other
strident views. It was just a good, solid collection of poems about bees. I
enjoyed it very much. My rating: 3.5 stars.
I’ve been wanting to read a Willa Cather book for some time,
so last December I made My Ántonia my
Kindle read. Unfortunately, I had a hard time wanting to pick it up (though I liked it when I did), so I finally finished it
on audio. The audio version was quite good because the narrator had a bit of a Midwestern Scandinavian
accent which fit the narration perfectly. I enjoyed the story, but it is one that is very low on action or drama.
I can imagine a high school student being assigned this book and finding
herself bored and uninterested. This is the last in a series, which I didn’t realize, but it did stand on its own. The writing is very straight-forward
and serviceable. It’s quite simply the story of life on the prairie
(specifically, Nebraska) as the west is just beginning to be settled. Ántonia is
the young neighbor of the Burden family, and the story is narrated by Jim
Burden, Ántonia’s friend. I’m just unsure what the book means. Is it as simple as it seems, or is it deceptively simple? I enjoyed the book for its portrayal of the
life of prairie settlers, but I feel that I missed something overall. My
rating: 3.5 stars. 
I love the Pioneer Woman cookbooks. Her latest, Come and Get It! is as good as all of
her others. I keep waiting for her to run out of good recipes or decide she’s
bored and branch out into fad food, but Ree remains consistent and true to her
roots (Oklahoma cattle ranching). There are meat—and a few non-meat—recipes,
yummy sides, and gorgeous, yet easy, desserts. If you like home cooking, meat-and-potatoes
fare with a generous dose of pasta, veggie dishes, and a sprinkling of
decidedly non-ranch fare (e.g. quinoa), this one will be a hit for you. She
includes a whole section of quick dishes for busy families as well as a section
of slow-cooker meals. Also, she’s as funny and charming in this cookbook as ever. I
loved the photo series of ballet positions—done in her cowgirl boots, and the
photos of her dogs and kids. I was very happy with this one. My rating: 5
stars.
I have long proclaimed my love of Michael Perry’s work,
which I’ve been following since my college days (back then, I followed in
person). His writing is genuine, self-deprecating, humorous, and very often,
touching. He writes mostly about rural Wisconsin, farming, family, and writing,
all things that are near and dear to me, having grown up around the same stripe
of folks he describes in his books. His work is very consistent, yet never gets
old-hat or annoying or saccharine. In an email sent to his readers as this book
was released, he warned us that it was a little different, and he was right. I’d
long felt that as entertaining as I find Perry's books, he doesn’t often go too
deep or too personal, and I’d always wondered what we’d get if he did. Turns
out, Montaigne in Barn Boots is what
you’d get. Here, Perry explores the essays of sixteenth-century French philosopher Michel
de Montaigne and how relevant they are to him today. Using Montaigne’s lines,
Perry explores heretofore never explored territory and opens up about his views
on politics, sex, fart jokes, marriage, and religious faith. It was all interesting,
but as much as it pains me to say it, Perry just didn’t nail it. And I’m so
used to him nailing it. Parts were almost painful to read because I could feel
he was trying to say something, but he’s too polite to just bust out and say
it. Still, I’m hoping this is the beginning of a franker Mike Perry. Maybe it
just took an old philosopher to get him to open up. Fans of Mike Perry might be
surprised by this one, but I don’t think they’ll be disappointed. My rating:
3.5 stars.
For women of my generation, there are two events for which
everyone can tell you where they were when they happened: the Twin Towers falling,
and Princess Diana’s death. I was on my way out to a back-to-school event at
the university I was attending (and where I’ve worked ever since) when the news broke. My roommates
and I were shocked and saddened. She’d just gotten out of her disastrous marriage
only to have her life cut short in a high-speed car crash of all things. Of
course, we didn’t know everything, and no book can tell us everything. Still,
there’s much more to the story of Princess Di than her image among young women
in America. And there’s more to the story of her marriage than the side story of
Prince Charles and Camilla. A couple of years ago I read Sally Bedell Smith’s Elizabeth the Queen, and I loved it no
end. It was so conversational and interesting and, though long, it never dragged.
It also very pointedly excoriated Princess Diana. So, I knew what I was getting
myself in for with her follow-up, Prince
Charles, published last year. I really have very little interest in Prince
Charles; philandering old Englishmen don’t interest me. much But I had so loved Smith’s
book about the queen, I knew I’d read this one, too. After reading, I can say Prince Charles still holds
very little interest for me. I’m still unsympathetic to his decades-long affair
with Camilla. And I find his causes and interests rather dull and tedious. I think this
book could have been trimmed by a third. Smith is an exhaustive writer, giving
every detail year by year, but when the details are as uninteresting as those
of Prince Charles’ career (or whatever you call the king-in-waiting’s work), you
trim it a bit to liven things up. In short, Charles is interested in
conservation, was a strong and vocal advocate for organic agriculture long
before that was the trend, and he has very strong feelings about architecture,
prizing classical to anything new or topping three stories. He seems, not
surprisingly, out of touch, has a hotheaded angry streak, pouts like a child, and
still holds childhood injustices against his parents. The prince and princess’s
marriage is talked about quite a bit, though it doesn’t dominate the book, and
it would seem the two were a mismatch from the start, and their years together
were fraught with distrust on her part (with good reason) and indifference on
his (also, likely, with good reason). Diana is painted as mentally unhealthy
from the get-go, which only exacerbated their troubles. All three of the
persons in that marriage (to allude to Diana’s famous assessment of her
marriage) were cheating on someone. Long before the end of the book I wanted to
be done with them all. It’s amazing that princes William and Harry are
functioning adults at all with the dysfunction present in their various
palaces during their childhoods. If you’re interested in Prince Charles, this is not a bad book, but I’m
afraid you won’t find Charles all that interesting, and the bloom will be off the Princess Diana rose, too. My rating: 3 stars. 
I’ve read many stellar reviews of Lillian Boxfish Takes a Walk, so I decided to listen to it on
audio. This is the story of Lillian Boxfish, the highest-paid woman in advertising
in the 1930s for R.H. Macy, and it’s based on the life of Margaret Fishback who apparently
was the highest-paid woman in advertising in the 1930s for R.H. Macy. Lillian
takes a walk on New Year’s Eve 1984, recounting her life in advertising, her
failed marriage, her stay at a mental institution, her son, her friends, all
while encountering various New Yorkers, some kindly, some out to do her harm. This is
the perfect character study. Lillian is a well-fleshed character who is of
strong opinion, of sharp mind and mouth, dryly witty, and true to herself
without being unwilling to experience new things. This is a truly remarkable
book. My one regret is listening to it instead of reading it. With this one, if
you miss anything, you miss too much. While I didn’t love every part of the
adventure, I was still riveted. And I loved the 1980s references (does anyone remember Coloralls?). I’d like to re-read this one in paper. And
soon. If you enjoy books with strong characters and engaging writing, pick this
one up. I don’t think you’ll be disappointed. My rating: 4.5 stars.
I’ve never read anything by P.G. Wodehouse, but he’s been on
my TBR for a few years. And now, thanks to Good
Night, Mr. Wodehouse, he’s just moved up to the top. When this book came
out, I was drawn by the cover, but I couldn’t get a good idea of what the
book was about, and since I was still leery about trying new fiction, I forgot
about it. Fast-forward several years to last December when I ran across a copy
of the book in a used bookstore for $2.00. That’s minimal investment, so I
snatched it up. I read a couple pages and could not get it out of my
mind, so I moved it up to my January reading list (a third chunkster for the month). You guys, I loved this book.
Apparently, it’s one of a number of books in which Faith Sullivan writes about
Nell Stillman and Harvester, Minnesota in the early 1900s. This is a book very
much like The Ninth Hour where
nothing much happens other than life unfolds, people make decisions that affect their whole lives, lives move
on to their ends. Nell is widowed with a young son, Hilly, in the early years
of the 1900s, and she must make a living for herself and her son. Along the
way, she makes friends, falls in love, and finds the books of P.G. Wodehouse,
which get her through the various losses that come her way. If you like quiet
novels set in small towns with easy characters, this is one to add to your
list. It was a cozy, comfortable, at times sad, read. I loved it. My rating 4.5
stars. 
I’d read that See You
in the Cosmos is the new Wonder. Although I doubted that very much, I was
definitely interested in reading it. I like children’s books about smart kids
figuring things out on their own. And for the most part, that’s what this one was. Alex is
an 11-year-old boy (though he’s 13 in responsibility years) who has a passion for
space. He and his dog, Carl Sagan, set out on their own to a rocket launching
convention, and along the way, he makes lots of adult friends and discovers
things about his dead father and absentee-though-in-the-same-house mother. The
book is written entirely as a set of iPod-recorded transmissions by Alex to
outer space beings, which Alex plans to launch into space on his rocket,
Discovery III. I loved the book for the first half or two-thirds, but then it
just seemed to spin out into a tale much too dramatic and intense for a
children’s book. Themes of infidelity and mental illness are introduced. A near-fatal
accident takes place. It just all felt like too much, especially for a children’s
book. I would have enjoyed this one better if it allowed itself to be about
Alex and not so much about those around him. I had been planning to buy a copy
for my 12-year-old grandson, but I decided against it when I finished, which is
too bad because I absolutely adored Alex. The audio version of this one is superb. My rating: 4 stars. 
I'd been circling around the Maisie Dobbs series for years, and I finally decided to take the plunge. I wasn't sure I needed another long series to peck away at, but then, what does need have to do with it? I almost made this my first DNF of the year. So, I'm here to warn you, if you quit in the first 70 pages, you're missing out. Now, I think 70 pages is an awful lot of book to work my way through (esp. when the book is only 300 pages long) before it gets going, but this is a leisurely read. If you're not into slow English plots, this one might drive you nuts. In that first 70 pages, although we're introduced to Maisie Dobbs, we know nothing about her. I began to fear we never would. But then we go back in time to look at Maisie's childhood (mother died young, raised by loving father) her education provided by the lady whom Maisie is in service to, and her nursing work during World War I. The mystery she's called to solve involves a home for veterans disfigured by the Great War, who need a retreat from the harsh stares of society. But the Retreat is run by a man who strips the men of their surnames and asks them to sign over their savings to the running of the Retreat. Several men who once lived at the Retreat are found in the local cemetery, and things smell fishy to Maisie and others. Was there foul play involved in the deaths of these young men? Once I got past the idea of the slow-moving plot and learned more about Maisie and her methods, I really, really liked this book. It's wonderfully written, the characters are vivid, and aside from the mystery (and war reminiscence), there's not much acrimony. I was charmed, and I'm so glad I stuck with this one. I believe there are 14 books in this series, so I have lots of enjoyable reading ahead of me. My rating: 4 stars. 
And then there's Eleanor Oliphant Is Completely Fine, which I should have abandoned "straight away." I told my husband I'm realizing just how terrible I am at knowing when to close a book for good, and finishing this one is proof of it. I really didn't like this book. At all. It's everything I dislike about contemporary fiction: unreal situations, unlikable main characters, humor that isn't funny, liberal use of hot button topics, and a seeming lack on the author's part to really know her main character and the character's motivations. There was a "twist" at the end that I saw coming a mile away, and I was just begging the book to get to the plot it had been hinting at all along. Ugh, I was just so frustrated with this one. Why didn't I give it up? The story is of Eleanor Oliphant, a young woman who works in an office, lives alone, and has problems with social situations and alcohol. Something terrible has happened in her past, and she's haunted by her abusive and terrible mum. Oh, and she develops a crush on someone who literally doesn't know she exists. She meets people who lift her out of her awful life, blah, blah, blah. I got so tired of Eleanor, and you know what? She is not completely fine. I know a lot of people loved this book, but I cannot recommend it. My rating: 2 stars. 
A couple of years ago I read Tom Ryan's Following Atticus and I was blown away. There are a ton of sweet animal books out there, but this one was different. It had depth that I'd never seen in any of the cute-dog-on-the-cover books. (In other words, it was not Marley and Me.) Ryan was writing a memoir but not just of himself, of his wonderful miniature Schnauzer, Atticus. Together, the two of them climbed an absurd number of mountains and they were close in a way that man and dog seldom are. There was something almost mystical about the pair. It's one of my very favorite books. Last year, Ryan published the follow-up to that book, Will's Red Coat, about Will, the aging dog whom Ryan and Atticus take in in order for the dog to die with dignity. This book is as good as the first book, and it certainly doesn't need to be read after the first book, but I'd suggest reading Following Atticus first anyway. I think you want to get a feel for Atti before going into this one. If you're a dog lover, I can't imagine you won't love this (these) books. If you're not an animal lover, the anthropomorphizing and training techniques Ryan employs might seem a little odd to you. I feel this book ventured more into that odd territory than Atticus did, and Ryan's way of seeing the world differs a good deal from mine, but there's something so respectable about Ryan and his books and his relationships with his dogs that makes me forgive all that. This isn't a great review, but it's a hard book to review. Just know that I highly recommend this one and its predecessor. My rating: 4 stars. 
I've read memoirs and biographies by all of the Bush family: President George H. W. Bush, first lady Barbara Bush, President George W. Bush, first lady Laura Bush, as well as books written by members of Bush 43's staff (Condi Rice, Dana Perino...), so there's not a lot of Bush family lore I don't know. Still, when the Bush twins (George W. & Laura's girls, Barbara and Jenna--named for their grandmothers) came out with Sisters First last year, I immediately put it on my TBR. They take turns writing chapters about their parents and grandparents, their childhood, their years living in the White House, their Secret Service detail, dating & marriage (Jenna), and careers and passions. It was quite fun. While it wasn't terribly well organized, it followed a chronological path and was easy to pick up and read a few pages and then put down again. Nothing spectacular here, and I was kind of turned off by their various "bad girl" stories that I felt were quite immature for women their age, but I was charmed by their characterizations of their grandparents on both sides. I just love candid stories about (first lady) Barbara Bush! If you're a Bush family fan, you'll likely want to read this one. My rating: 3 stars.
