At the end of each year I try to look back at the books I’ve read. This year I read 73 books, which is 15% more than my previous best of 63. I have Pajiba and the Cannonball Read to thank for this, because I know that if I hit 52 in a year that helps fund the fight against cancer. But because we also must review the books, it means I spend at least a few minutes reflecting on everything I read. It’s made me a better reader, it’s exposed me to books I wouldn’t have previously considered reading, and it’s introduced me to a lovely community of fellow readers.

So – what did my year look like?

Starting with the most obvious … I read a lot of white women authors. Nearly 60%, in fact. That’s not great. 20% of the books I read are the thoughts of white men, which means that just over 20% come from non-white authors. Most of those are women, but clearly I need to make a more concerted effort to read diverse voices. So next year’s goal: never read two white authors in a row.

Another yikes here – I read SO MANY books from authors who are from the USA. Eighty-six percent, to be precise.

Okay, this is much better. There are clearly some types I gravitate to, such as memoir and sociology. I like to learn about people and things, apparently. But look, there are 17 different genres or types of books on here, including a play, a collection of short stories, and even a cook book. And I know one of those memoirs was also a graphic novel, so that’s 18. That’s good!

Finally, how wisely did I choose my books?

Eh … not bad. Not great – a lot of middling books. But only a handful of bad choices and nothing so wretched that it earned the not-at-all coveted one star.

What can I do better for next year? I do not want to stop reading white women authors altogether, mostly because I just ordered Carrie Fisher’s entire catalogue. But I need to be more intentional in my choices of books, and step back more often to see if going on a ‘kick’ has really meant that I’m just reading a whole lot of the same type of author or book.

As far as my favorite book this year, my recommendations are:

• All Fun and No Joy by Jennifer Senior
• Between the World and Me by Ta-Nehisi Coates
• Real Artists Have Day Jobs by Sara Benincasa
• Shrill by Lindy West
• When Breath Becomes Air
• Where Am I Now? By Mara Wilson

Alright, on to Cannonball Read Nine!

Three Stars

Quick Take-Away:
On the cusp of four stars, but something didn’t click for me. The middle 350 pages or so really pulled me in, but I felt that the last 50 pages fell short.

Longer Review (with the mildest of spoilers):
The writing in this book is beautiful. I believe this is the first of Ms. Atkinson’s books I have read, but I gather she is someone known for her prose. The premise of the book, for those who are unfamiliar, is that Ursula is born in February of 1910 in England, and immediately dies. And then she is born again, but something slightly different keeps her alive. This replays over and over again, without any real sort of pattern that I could detect; we don’t always get to a certain age and start over, or always start at the same point, or even necessarily get clued into *exactly* what it is that she may have changed to prevent her death.

Ursula dies at least a couple dozen times if not more, and only a few of the storylines get in-depth treatment. One of the more fascinating stories is of her choosing to marry a German in the early 30s and what that leads to; a different route leads her into a bad marriage. There are also some moments that at the time seem important, but now that the book has ended I can’t figure out what purpose they served (was her mother having an affair in one of the storylines, and did it matter?).

I think the most frustrating component for me was that everything felt like it could be more developed – I wanted to see more connections, learn more about what Ursula was thinking and feeling that lead her to make a shift in her life that prevented her death. I just don’t think we got that, so even though I found myself sucked in, upon reflection I can’t quite recommend it to others.

Three Stars

(This is a review of the audio version)

I think I would have enjoyed this better in written form, because I had a hard time following along and staying interested to the audio version. Essays especially I think lend themselves well to paper (or electronic) versions because they can be read in chunks; the audio version for me meant stopping it a lot right in the middle, and not being able to listen again until I’d forgotten what I already heard.

That said, what I do recall I did enjoy. Ms. Rae is a writer and now actor (her show Insecure debuted on HBO this year) who tells a good story. This book is a memoir that covers her life in mostly chronological order. I chuckled a few times, and found her descriptions to be very vivid.

I can’t offer much more again because apparently I just didn’t absorb a lot from the audio version, but I do think I can recommend it, especially if you are enjoying her TV show or enjoyed the web series that preceded it.

Somehow, I hadn’t heard of Ms. Ajayi until a couple of months ago. Clearly, I have been missing out. Thankfully I learned of her via this great collection of essays.

When, after seeing the entertaining cover, someone asked what I was reading, I described it as a little bit silly but a lot serious. Some of the topic areas might be considered lighter fare, which is what I was expecting for the whole of the book (again, my fault, as I wasn’t familiar with the author). But it’s so much more than an amusing frolic through modern-day ways people act like asshats; it’s also a collection of essays on serious topics.

These topics benefit from Ms. Ajayi’s talented way with words; she can drop in a clever aside or snide remark into a very serious essay without breaking up the flow. It doesn’t lessen the impact; instead it reminds the reader that these issues are not so esoteric that we can’t all have a vested interested in addressing them.

Ms. Ajayi discusses rape culture, racism, religion, fame, feminism and more in this collection, and I felt I either related to or learned something from nearly every one. The only section where I felt some measure of disagreement (and it was such a tiny measure) was with her description of atheists. I appreciate that as an atheist I was already going to be a bit sensitive to what anyone says about this group, and others might read it and totally agree with her take on us. Regardless, even that bit was edifying to a degree.

I was expecting an entertaining etiquette book and instead got deep social criticism, and that ended up being exactly what I needed.

Four Stars

Even if you don’t live in NYC, it’s possible you’ve heard of Bellevue hospital. If not by name, then by the stories told about it. It was the facility that treated the man who had Ebola in New York, and it is the one that had to evacuate patients in plastic medical sleds down over a dozen flights of stairs during Hurricane Sandy when the building lost power. And that’s just the headlines from the last five years.

Bellevue is a public hospital, providing care mostly to those who cannot pay or who other facilities will not see. It has been providing this care in some form or another since the 1700s, which, given how relatively young the U.S., is impressive as hell. It was on the front line of so many outbreaks, including the AIDS crisis in the 1980s. But it’s the stories from the 1700s and 1800s that I found to be especially fascinating. I know we’re all familiar with the fact that anesthesia didn’t used to exist (but amputations did), and that germ theory took a while to catch on, but reading the background behind these discoveries and their introductions, set against this amazing institutions history, is just incredible.

I’ve started a couple of large histories of medical conditions or healthcare facilities this year. I gave up on Emperor of All Maladies, and I’m struggling to get past the first chapter of Blood. However, this one, released just four weeks ago, was not hard to get through at all. If you have any interest in New York history, or medical history, or just good non-fiction, I think you will find this a worthwhile read.

Four Stars

I will see any film if Anna Kendrick is involved. I’ve watched Pitch Perfect at least monthly since it was released on blu-ray (and three times in theaters before that); I watch videos online of her appearances on late night TV when I’m in a shit mood and need a boost. So obviously, I pre-ordered the shit out of this book.

It did not disappoint. Unfortunately, it came out a week after the election, so it is possible that it didn’t get the attention it deserved, since we are all (rightfully) freaking the fuck out about actual neo-Nazis in the White House. But if you need a mental health break from calling and writing your representatives, or marching in support of Black Lives Matter or protesting the DAPL, I would like to recommend this to you.

Her essays are laid out in (mostly) chronological order; some are quite intimate, but none delve into the uncomfortable. But the best part is that they all sound exactly like her – or at least the her we see in the media. I don’t know Ms. Kendrick, so theoretically this could all be an elaborately maintained ruse, but more than likely this is just an example of a clever, self-deprecating, strong but at times insecure woman living her life. Yes, she might have a job that is slightly more glamorous from the outside than, say, literally every other job, but she manages to make the challenges she faces as a well-known actress as relatable as her days with no money and no car trying to make it in Los Angeles.

I think the fact that she is incredibly self-aware helps. She doesn’t sell herself short in unbelievable ways, she doesn’t fish for pity or accolades, she is just sharing some stories that readers will find endearing or entertaining (and usually both).

Near the end of the book, she mentions writing a tell-all when she is 70 and done with her career. Again, I’d like to pre-order that one now, because if I’m alive then, I’m going to read that one, and I have no doubt it will be delicious.

Four Stars

I was lucky enough to learn about Phoebe Robinson when a friend recommended I listen to Two Dope Queens, the comedy podcast she hosts with Jessica Williams (of The Daily Show fame). She is a stand-up comedian and writer, and You Can’t Touch My Hair is her first book. It’s a collection of essays that take on topics as varied as black hair, guilty pleasures, and advice for her niece.

I write in my books, and I found myself underlining a lot in this one. I wasn’t just underlining the funny one-liners that had me chuckling out loud; mostly I was marking up her social commentary. Her chapter on “The Angry Black Woman Myth” should be required reading for white people. She also weighs in on the challenges people of color face in the entertainment industry, illustrating that section with sample composite casting calls that are both hilarious and deeply fucked up.

I could probably sit with this so I can provide a more thorough review, but I want to get this up there in case someone is looking for their next good read. If you like good writing, and serious issues discussed with a clever, strong voice, I think you’ll enjoy this one.

Also, check out the 2 Dope Queens podcast.

Four Stars

A memoir. Written by a woman. About soccer. I’m surprised my local book store didn’t just automatically set it aside for me. This shit is my jam.

If you aren’t a fan of women’s soccer (and if you enjoy sports, you should check it out), you probably hadn’t heard of Carli Lloyd before last summer. She’s been playing for the US Women’s National Team since the early 2000s, but she stepped hard into the spotlight during the World Cup in Canada last year, when she scored three times in the final win over Japan, including a shot basically from mid-field.

Of the memoirs I’ve read recently that involve a co-writer, this one reads the smoothest. I don’t know Ms. Lloyd, and I haven’t seen her interviewed much, but the voice, while a bit stiff, feels genuine. The book follows her journey from player in her New Jersey hometown, through college, and into her professional career. It has much more soccer in it than Abbi Wambach’s memoir from earlier this year, and I loved that. Ms. Lloyd also discusses some of the same incidents that Ms. Wambach did, with a different perspective, which is fascinating for someone like me.

Ms. Lloyd is dedicated as hell, a hard worker, and talented. She says repeatedly she doesn’t like drama, but also says she tells it like it is, and in my experience drama and a lack of desire to choose one’s words carefully almost always go hand in hand. At the same time, I do think Ms. Lloyd is self-aware; she is open about her flaws and how they have impacted her life, especially her relationship with her immediate family (spoiler alert: it’s not a good one).

If you like sports and a bit of an underdog story, I think you’ll like this. But if you don’t enjoy sports, I think there might just be too much technical discussion for this to be a good read.

Three Stars

This is 2.5 stars for me, but I’m giving it three starts because of the first 150 pages of the book. However, I think the title is misleading, because this is much, much more about the true story of Ms. Ensign’s experience working in a clinic that served low income and homeless individuals in the mid-late 80s. That story is interesting, well-written and raises some great questions, but it is not the story that I think the blurb and the title suggest. Some spoilers below.

The first 150 pages or so are fascinating. Ms. Ensign opens this clinic with a grant, and runs it as the sole clinician. She is also the wife of a Christian who is pursuing seminary school, so she also has these expectations put upon to her to be a ‘good southern Christian woman.’ Reading about her patients, as well as her own awakening to what she wants in her life (spoiler alert: it isn’t to be with her husband) brings up so many great questions to pursue further. At one point the church becomes even more involved, reprimanding her for her counseling style with women who become pregnant out of marriage and people who have AIDS.

Ms. Ensign does end up without quality housing, but I find it odd that she doesn’t talk about that much. She lives in a storage facility on a camp her parents own, and apparently also lives in her car, but most of that is mentioned in passing. It feels almost like she ran out of steam, or felt that she didn’t want to reveal too much about that time in her life, yet the book was supposedly meant to be the insight of someone who has both served the homeless and experienced homeless herself. It just feels that the connections are missing. Especially because at one point she is working three jobs and then miraculously can just decide to turn one of those jobs into full-time work so she can have health insurance. And then … she moves to Seattle. We don’t learn why, or how that happens, or even when. It just feels so disjointed for the last 50 pages or so, and that bums me out. As this is Ms. Ensign’s first book, I think part of the blame lies with her editor.

Homelessness is such a huge issue in cities right now, and there are so many competing ideas about the root causes and the ways to support the individuals experiencing it, so I had such high hopes that this would be discussed deeply in this book. But it just wasn’t. And this seems like a huge missed opportunity.

Ms. Ensign now teaches at the University in my town, and is instructing students in the school of public health. In fact, this book was chosen as the one that incoming master’s students will be reading this fall. Unfortunately, there is an odd two- or three-page stretch of what I view as anti-feminist judgment of sex work (and the unironic use of the words “politically correct” as though that is a bad thing, which pisses me off) and those who provide non-judgmental health care to sex workers, so I’m saddened that young folks will be reading this book and being exposed to that thinking.

It is possible my opinion will change after book club this week, and if so, I’ll come back and amend this review, but for now, I just can’t recommend this book.