2025 Reading List

Although I can’t recall just when, I’ve read this book before and feel like I enjoyed it. I’ve seen pieces of the movie. There was a time when one of my daughters was obsessed with it. On New Year’s Eve 2019, I really thought we were going to get a real “Roaring 20’s Revival.” I think I was a little excited about that. The revival never happened. Maybe COVID thwarted those plans. Or maybe it didn’t. Either way, COVID changed mine and perhaps my reading of this book.

About halfway through, I described the rereading as “underwhelming.” I think that was a mistake. Now that I have reached the end, I think it was overwhelmingly tragic and sad. I suppose it has always been tragic and sad, but I was too distracted by the romantic illusion. Now, at nearly 50, I do not find big parties full of random people who don’t care about you appealing, even if they are just a ruse to woo the only woman you think you have ever loved who really deserves it because her no good, two-timing, oaf of a husband thinks he can do whatever he wants because of his name and his bank account. The truth is you probably don’t even love her – you love the idea of her, what she represents in your lack, and you mistake the need to possess with love. It’s all fear and scarcity and greed and hunger and the quest to fill the spiritual with the physical – and that is a recipe for death, destruction, and heartbreak – which is exactly how Fitzgerald wrote it.

I thought about waiting to post this one until I after I returned from my University of Tennessee Knoxville trip next week. I reconsidered as I have learned that I get myself mixed up putting off to tomorrow what I could do today. I was unfamiliar with this 1728 play by John Gay. However, I will be sitting in on the Readings in English Literature of Restoration/18th Century class on Tuesday; I figured it a good idea to get familiar. I am really glad I did.

I learned while studying Shakespeare that I enjoy works such as these more when I can find a well-performed, well-recorded, true-to-the-text stage version to watch while I read. Of course, there is an argument to be made that this skews the reading – director, actor, stage, costume influence, and such – but I have found that if you recognize that fact before going in, the pros outweigh the cons. So, I found this 1983 recording and tucked in.

Y’all, I was delighted. Gay does what many writers attempt and so often fail. He highlighted some gross injustices facing class, justice, and sexism soundly and not so subtlely, without alienation, inflammation, or superciliousness. The scathing satire is highlighted by the use of operatic injections into a scoundrel of a story. (Note: Think “musical” sort of. If this is not your jam, just stick to a reading.) The language may prove problematic to modern readers; the dialogue is flush with derogatory epithets for women. But, taken in context, that seems to be part of Gay’s point. I found the work to be honest in all the unfortunate ways and humourous in all the best.

This book had me thinking all the thoughts. At first, I laughed a lot at the absurdity; it is brilliant satire. The ridiculousness of bureaucracy, power, economy, and politics is on full display. The moaning scene almost took me out. I nearly felt compelled to get out a pencil and paper in an attempt to figure out Milo’s syndicate scheme. Doc Daneeka’s wife…the jury is still out.

The book gets a little harder to enjoy when it does not feel like satire. I tried to ignore the nagging recognition but failed. Once it occured to me that the double speak, manipulation, and idiocy depicted in the novel held an uncanny resemblance to modern-day politicians, I enjoyed it less. Of course, I blame power-driving politicians and not Heller’s talent.

Book 3 for 2025 is Why We’re Catholic: Our Reasons for Faith, Hope, and Love (2017) by Trent Horn. The book contains five parts that move through general faith doctrine and Catholic-specific teachings. I have read quite a few apologist writings, and this fits well into that genre. I found it to be easy to read and understand. I would caution that sometimes, it is overly simplified, leading to arguments that fall in on themselves when examined closely. That said, it is a good starting place for those curious about the faith or developing a desire to answer questions concerning the faith. It works as well as the first book you read, but I would suggest not making it your last. 

Sons and Lovers, the 1913 novel by D. H. Lawrence, is no. 9 on Modern Library’s Top 100 Novels. I find myself at a bit of a loss on how to comment on it. I have a theory that the existence of redemption in a novel is necessary for it to be a great work; I cannot suffer a nihilistic worldview. I think there is something akin to redemption here. I want there to be, but the brokenness throughout is so all-encompassing that it is possible I just want it to be there.

Set in early 1900s England, the novel centers on the Morel family. The story is bleak from the beginning. It is hard to encounter characters who seem to have been born with the possibility of happiness only to find themselves in lives that seem fruitless. This becomes harder still when the personalities irrevocably alter into despair. Once the brokenness is passed on to the children, it is a bonafide tragedy.

Of course there is social commentary – the effects of industrialism, cheap labor, exploitation of class, and the like. But, while these are factors, there seems to be a more base human condition being interrogated. For me, at the center of the novel were the overarching questions concerning love. How much fear of solitude, abandonment, rejection can one person take? What manipulations, not just on others, but on ourselves, are we capable of committing to feel love? What are the effects on the essence of a person when they are loved unwell? What are we willing to sacrifice? How much grace do we give those who are doing the best they can with what they know? How can our stories be different when we commit to loving each other well?

I don’t know the answers to any of these questions. I don’t think Lawrence was real sure either. But I think this novel suggests he was at least trying to work it all out.

I am beginning to lose count on how many times I have read this one. I can tell you the binding is starting to give way.

I first encountered McCarthy during a graduate seminar at Georgia Southern University in the fall of 2023. That class, taught by the incomparable Dr. Olivia Carr-Edenfield, would end up shaping the course of my master’s studies. It appears it will continue to do so once I arrive at the University of Tennessee Knoxville to pursue a Ph.D.

I found on the third read that multiple visits were necessary to create some sort of desensitization to the brutality the novel is known for. Once you can get past that (or at least not continue to be overwhelmingly shocked by it), the deeper themes and nuances begin to appear. These are the components I am studying now, beginning with the character of Sarah Borginnis. Each time I read it, some questions are answered, and more occur to me.

I would recommend this one (like many of McCarthy’s works) to everyone and no one. McCarthy leaves so much room for the reader while seeming not to consider them at all. There’s just no way to know what will happen on each encounter – or reencounter.

This was the March book for the St. Anne Catholic Church bookclub. I am glad I read it in its entirety, and I probably dog-eared over half the pages for notes to go back to. It is a beautiful account of a spiritual journey that can teach and remind us of the “little way” we can develop a deeper relationship with God.

I will admit that parts of the book are a bit not my speed. St. Thérèse was very young when she penned this work. She was only 24 when she died. Some of the structure and sentiments were a bit adolescent, and I really had to focus on hearing the voice of God in her work instead of my own “mom” voice. However, this is a criticism of my reading and not the sound example of the saint.

I suppose this was exactly what I thought it was going to be. While this is my first Sparks read, I have heard the discussions and watched The Notebook; I knew what I was getting into, and I was excited for it. I do a lot of heavy reading, so the beachier novels are a treat I enjoy. I don’t want to give away any spoilers here (but you will probably figure it out anyway). I will say a small edit at the very beginning of the novel could have salvaged the whole thing for me. As it was, I nearly threw it across the room and tried to return the purchase. My reaction probably wouldn’t have been that strong if it had been 100 pages or so shorter (which it definitely could have been).

However, if you enjoy quick reads and are little bothered by slight inconsistencies, this one is for you. Full of the emotional heartstring pluckers Sparks is known for, this one delivers on all the fronts. I appreciated the cast of characters that covered the spectrum of stereotypes; while some were suspect in their character, there were counterparts that demonstrated that folks come in all flavors. A generous treatment of humanity that is always welcome, even if the novel itself is not my jam.

Book 4 – Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow (2022) by Gabrielle Zevin has been on my TBR since it first came out in 2022 due to its near-constant appearance in my face. Everybody loved this book. Everybody was reading this book. A NYT Bestseller, they already have it listed on the 100 Best Books of the 21st Century list. (Honestly, I wish I could live long enough to see how that list ages and evolves). But, much like Lessons in Chemistry, I just couldn’t with the cover.

I wish I could have gotten past the cover and read this one sooner. I loved it. And I loved it in that interesting way that happens when an author puts you through all the emotions without leaving me feeling manipulated as a reader. This is particularly impressive with this book, as it would have been so easy to get that part wrong.

I really didn’t like Sadie (the main female protagonist) and never felt like Zevin had an opinion about that one way or the other. In fact, in an odd reflection on the reading experience, it occurs to me that I would not be surprised if Zevin enjoys, or is at least more comfortable, writing male characters.

Looking at the back copy, I don’t think Marx gets the attention he deserves. This is so glaring, in my opinion, that I wonder if Zevin made a similar concession in her work that Sam and Sadie made with Ichigo.

There is a danger with this book that no one is talking about…it is threatening to wreck my schedule as I really want to find a game to play for a little while.