Let's Bust a Recap : Animal Farm

On Monday, I shared my recap on Frankenstein, literature's definitive horror story. Today, I'm reaching back in the archives of my mind to finally recap Animal Farm, the other book I put on my 2025 book list specifically because of a new movie adaptation. Animal Farm turned 80 this year and I read it in June. As far as I'm concerned, it's far more horrific than Frankenstein, and after finally reading this slim classic, I have no desire to watch Andy Serkis' new adaptation, the release of which has been pushed to next May anyway.

If you're unfamiliar with George Orwell's Fairy Story about the anthropomorphised animals on Manor Farm, it's basically just Orwell crapping all over Stalin and the Soviet Union. 

"It's important political satire!" "It's an allegory!" "It's dystopian literature at its finest!"

It's about as subtle as a sledgehammer, is what it is, and I felt sick the entire time I was reading it. By the time the glue truck turned up to take Boxer away, I wanted to chuck the whole thing in a fire and watch it burn. 

I'm not one to go looking for the symbolism or deeper meaning in books that just isn't there. But Animal Farm is unapologetically political and if you have two brain cells to rub together, you can't escape what Orwell is writing about. Old Major is basically an amalgamation of Karl Marx and Vladimir Lenin. Napoleon (the most despicable character in the whole of the novella) is Joseph Stalin. Snowball is Leon Trotsky. And Squealer represents the Soviet nomenklatura and journalists, justifying every little thing Stalin says and does. Then you have the other animals who are worked to death under Napoleon's regime and the poor puppies who are stolen at birth and trained to be his terrifying security force. Orwell drives his point home hard at the end of the novella when the animals look in the window at the pigs' dinner party with the neighboring human farmers and they can no longer distinguish between the pigs and the men. 

Animal Farm is a searing portrait of how a revolution for equality is corrupted by power, leading to an even worse tyranny. The silencing of dissent, the manipulation, the utter betrayal of ideals all vividly portrayed by Orwell in his Fairy Story are important topics and things we absolutely must be attuned to recognize. The whole those who forget history are doomed to repeat it. But reading Animal Farm is not a fun time, and I'd caution you against picking it up unless you're prepared to grapple with the boundless depths of human depravity—depicted by a bunch of literal pigs. It's rough sailing but I do think it's worth reading if you can stomach it. 

Let's Bust a Recap : Frankenstein

Well, here we are, ten days till Christmas and what am I recapping on the blog today? Some cozy holiday story á la The Best Christmas Pageant Ever? No. Today we're talking about what is possibly the most classic horror story of all time. The story of Doctor Victor Frankenstein and his creature.  

"It was on a dreary night of November that I beheld the accomplishment of my toils..."

When I heard last year that Guillermo del Toro was making a new adaptation of Frankenstein to be released in 2025, I knew it was time to finally read my copy of this classic and so I added it to my book list and planned to read it in October or November around the time the movie was slated to be released. Despite the enduring fame of this 200 year old ghost story, I knew relatively little beyond the fact that "Frankenstein" is the name of the doctor, not the monster. *insert massive eye-rolling about here* My lit teacher friends have all told me that this is one of those accessible classics that even high schoolers love and that I'd breeze through it, easy peasy. 

Well, yes and no. First of all, Frankenstein is a bit convoluted in that it's a story, inside of a story, inside yet another story. The preface begins as a series of letters from a certain Captain Walton who is on an expedition to the North Pole. As it happens, the captain met with some strange circumstances in which he picked up a lone man called Victor Frankenstein who determines to tell Walton his history. As a young man, Frankenstein was fascinated with alchemy and, through a series of events, discovered he could create life. After piecing together a bodily form from cadavers, he actually does succeed in animating his creation and then immediately regrets it and runs away from it. I'm not going to get too into details here but after a lot of time passes, his creation finds Frankenstein and determines to tell him his own story and make a request of him. 

See what I mean? Convoluted. Which makes sense because Mary Shelley was a teenager herself when she wrote it. The teen angst is palpable in this novel. It's a brilliant story though and I get why the appeal of it has endured. The feelings that Frankenstein's creature (I will not call him a monster, I loved him too much) has to grapple with concerning his loneliness and where he belongs are all too relatable, and the consequences Frankenstein has to face as the result of playing God raise so many questions we're still asking ourselves today. 

But my expectations for this book were out of line with my experience when I finally picked it up to read it. The mind-numbing descriptions of the natural world were too much even for me and took me out of the story. Victor Frankenstein is one of the most insufferable characters I've encountered in a very long time. And the creature's story was by far my very favorite part of the book, but unfortunately it was also the most brief. (Or if it wasn't, it definitely felt that way.) After reading it and having a little time to think about it, I think it's a novel that bears re-reading with my expectations adjusted accordingly. 

As for the brand new film adaptation that came out November 7th on Netflix, I took a break from my annual slate of favorite Christmas movies yesterday to watch it. And I have a lot of feelings about it. The movie itself is absolutely beautiful. A sweeping epic if I've ever seen one. The love Guillermo del Toro has for the novel is apparent, even though he drastically changed the story in his screenplay. At first, I did not appreciate the liberties taken with the source material but as the film unfolded, del Toro's choices started to make a lot of sense to me. I'm still not sure how I feel about the twist ending, but on the whole, del Toro's Frankenstein is a film I'd watch again. Oscar Isaac and Jacob Elordi managed to bring the essence of Mary Shelley's original characters to vivid life on the screen and I felt the same way about the portrayal of their Frankenstein and his creature on film as I did when I was reading the novel. I don't say this about a lot of movies, but del Toro's Frankenstein is art. 

All things considered, I think Frankenstein is a fantastic story and definitely worth reading, but it's a slow burn so proceed accordingly. 

And if you've read it and you sympathize with Frankenstein and think his creature is a monster, let's talk about that because I'd love to hear your perspective. 

Let's Bust a Recap : Ramona Quimby

Here's the thing about Beverly Cleary: of all the books I've ever read in my entire life, Beverly Cleary can write a book that's supposed to be from a child's perspective, like it's actually from a real child's perspective. She has the uncanny ability to tap into a child's psyche so well, and it makes actual kids want to read her books. I love children's literature. Truly, it may be my very favorite genre. Children's books make it into my reading rotation every single year. And Beverly Cleary is the absolute queen of writing books about kids, for kids.  

Back in 2021, I started reading Beezus and Ramona with my nieces while they were visiting in the summer. It was just a quick trip and I wasn't quite able to finish the book with them, but of course that didn't stop me from finishing it by myself shortly after they left. Last year, during a week-long slumber party at Uncle Cody and Auntie Hannah's house, I picked up the next Ramona book to read to my niece and nephews. For the purposes of this post, I'll call them Thing One, Thing Two, and Thing Three. During that week, we flew through Ramona the Pest and Ramona the Brave. The kids immediately fell in love with Ramona and when Thing One realized there was actually a book before Ramona the Pest that I hadn't read to them, she checked it out of her school library to read for herself. If that's not a testament to Beverly Cleary's genuine connection with children, I don't know what is. For the rest of 2024, if I showed up at a family gathering without our current Ramona book, I was ordered back home to get it so total anarchy didn't ensue. (It's a good thing we all live in the same neighborhood!) We actually finished Ramona's World, the final book in the Ramona series, on Christmas day. 

There are eight books about Ramona Quimby, from Beezus and Ramona, published in 1955, all the way to Ramona's World, published in 1999. The very first book is from the perspective of Ramona's older sister Beezus who gets very annoyed with Ramona's antics but learns she can always love her little sister—even if she doesn't always like her. The following seven books are all from Ramona's perspective as she goes to kindergarten with her neighbor Howie in Ramona the Pest, up until her fourth grade year in Ramona's World. Ramona finds herself facing all sorts of challenges like bullies at school, teachers she loves and teachers she doesn't like, her dad losing his job, her family expecting a new baby, a family pet dying, making a best friend, and a beloved aunt getting engaged and married. While all these books were written and published before the twenty-first century, the struggles and triumphs, growing up and all the big feelings that go with it, are timeless, and Cleary's books have given children a protagonist they can honestly see themselves in for generations now. Thing One, Thing Two, and Thing Three were all absolutely riveted by Ramona Quimby, and the Ramona books are the only books I've ever read to them where I had the undivided attention of all three whenever I was reading. After we finished reading the entire series, I asked them each to tell me their favorite parts of the books and here's what they said:

Thing One liked when Ramona put the hard-boiled egg on her head (from Ramona Quimby, Age 8) and when she made the tiara out of burrs (from Ramona and Her Father). 

Thing Two liked it when Ramona made an engagement ring out of a worm in Ramona the Pest. (I love that Thing Two's favorite part was one that wasn't depicted in the phenomenal film adaptation starring Joey King as Ramona Quimby. Which we watched twice.)

And Thing Three loved drawing the longest picture (from Ramona and Her Father...and also from our basement because we obviously had to draw our own longest picture), and his other favorite part was when Ramona fell through the ceiling in Ramona's World. 

If my glowing review hasn't already tipped you off to my feelings about it, let me say this loud and clear: the Ramona Quimby books are an absolute treasure and I highly recommend them—specifically to be read aloud to children or for children to read for themselves. As I alluded to above, the movie is also a delight and one of my all-time favorites. Scenes from every single book are lovingly incorporated into it and I cannot get through it without laughing and sobbing—every. single. time. Don't miss out on Ramona Quimby. 

What is your favorite children's book? Seriously, please tell me. I'm always looking for good ones to ward off the cynicism that seems unavoidable in this world. 

Let's Bust a Recap : Seabiscuit

Y'all. I would read the phone book if Laura Hillenbrand wrote it. I've read Unbroken twice now; I've read her piece in The New Yorker about the sudden onset of a then unknown illness which she has suffered from ever since; and now I've finally read Seabiscuit. I think I waited so long to read it simply because it's her only other book and who knows if she'll ever write another one. Consider this my official plea to have all her freelance writing collected and offered in book format. At least all the stuff she wrote for Equus magazine. Pretty please with cherries on top?

Incidentally, I have discovered that my toxic trait (well, one of them anyway) is reading one-star reviews for objectively exceptional books. (Or maybe just my favorite books. Semantics.) One Goodreads user in their one-star review of Seabisuit said—and I quote: "I want to read about people, not horses."

FOR A BOOK ENTITLED SEABISCUIT.

Oh for the love of Lori Loughlin. 

And while Seabiscuit is certainly a thorough biography of one of the most beloved racehorses of all time, it is also a biography of three men: Charles Howard, Seabiscuit's owner; Red Pollard, Seabiscuit's best jockey; and Tom Smith, the horse trainer to end all horse trainers. 

Laura Hillenbrand first covered the subject of her 2001 biography Seabiscuit in an essay that was published in American Heritage magazine. After getting so much positive feedback, she proceeded to write a full-length book which went on to become a bestselling, award-winning masterpiece and the source material for the 2003 film starring Tobey Maguire as Red Pollard which went on to be nominated for seven Academy Awards. (The film ultimately didn't win in any of the seven categories but what can you do when you're up against the third installment of the Lord of the Rings trilogy which beat it out in six of the seven categories??)

Much like her later biography Unbroken, Seabiscuit absolutely captivated me and I had a hard time putting it down. For probably a solid month while reading it and afterward, I talked Cody's ear off about every single detail and made him listen to excerpts that I'd read to him aloud. And don't get me started on those one-star reviews again. My poor husband was audience to a passionate tirade about all the idiots who wouldn't know good writing if it bit them in the armpit. 

Seabiscuit is a true underdog story and I think therein lies the appeal. Of Charles Howard, the bicycle-repairman-turned-millionaire that no one took seriously as a horse owner. Until Seabiscuit started winning. Of Tom Smith, the unconventional horse trainer that everyone ridiculed and dismissed, mocking his unorthodox methods. Until Seabiscuit started winning. And of Red Pollard, the most accident-prone jockey you ever heard of that everyone actually gave up for dead. Until he rose from the grave and saddled a horse people thought would never race again and won. 

But the undisputed star of Hillenbrand's sensational book is Seabiscuit himself. This awkward little horse with his Eggbeater gait won the hearts of the entire country back in the 1930s and he completely won mine as well. I was on the edge of my seat for every single race Hillenbrand covered and what I wouldn't give to have seen him run in person. I cried when I came to the end of the book. Charles Howard was known to silver Seabiscuit's race-worn horseshoes, mount them on ashtrays, and give them as gifts. I may or may not have done an internet search after finishing the book to see if any are still in existence and what it might cost to obtain one. (Spoiler: they're rare and completely out of my budget.)

And you guys. What jockeys would do to make weight will forever be seared into my memory after reading Seabiscuit. I somewhat expected the fasting, the sweatboxes, the laxative use. But intentionally ingesting tapeworm eggs?? Horrifying. The lengths these men would go to for their profession was life-threatening and absolutely appalling, but fascinating nonetheless.

On a final note, after finishing the book I watched—for the first time—both the 2003 film adaptation of Seabiscuit and also The Story of Seabiscuit starring Shirley Temple that came out in 1949. Neither one can touch Laura Hillenbrand's phenomenal writing and I'm sad to report that the Shirley Temple film just isn't any good at all. Whoever decided that my beloved Shirley Temple should attempt an Irish accent should be criminally tried. 

While I may not recommend Seabiscuit as widely as I recommend Unbroken, it is an absolutely brilliant piece of storytelling and a gripping bit of history. If you have any interest in horses at all, this is a book you cannot miss. 

Who's your favorite non-fiction writer?

Let's Bust a Recap : The Devil in the White City

Hello there! I think we can all agree that there is no longer any rhyme or reason to this blog. 

Do I have eight or nine other recaps sitting in drafts? Yes.

Are some of those recaps for books I read last year? Also yes.

Am I recapping the book I most recently finished reading? Another resounding yes.

Obviously, there is no order here, no posting schedule, and certainly no goals—stated or unspoken—of getting caught up in any particular timeframe. It just is what it is and that's all it'll ever be. So if you've stuck around, thank you for your loyalty and I hope you enjoy what I have to say whenever I randomly pop in to say it. 

The Devil in the White City is the tenth book I've completed from my original 2025 book list which, may I remind you, consisted of only twenty titles. I have a flickering hope of finishing three or four more from that list by the end of the year. We'll see what happens. 

But to get to the actual recap: The Devil in the White City is Erik Larson's 2003 historical non-fiction book which interweaves the stories of Daniel Burnham, the chief architect of the 1893 World's Columbian Exposition (aka the World's Fair), and H. H. Holmes, a cunning serial killer who lured his victims to his "Murder Castle" in Chicago, many while the World's Fair was going on from May to October of 1893. 

Larson has been lauded for the novelistic style he brings to writing his factual subject matter, and The Devil in the White City is easily his most famous book. So many people have recommended it to me, and I've been meaning to read it for ages. I bought a copy back in 2018 and, as you can see in the photograph, I've even been collecting Larson's other books since then. I knew I wanted to read The Devil in the White City first, and I actually put it on my book list a couple years ago, but just didn't get to it. I was determined to finally read it this year, and my sister-in-law agreed to buddy read it with me which is sometimes just the kick in the pants I need to get started. 

So what did I think? Larson's writing is very good and he definitely does have a talent for bringing what could be dry material to life. His coverage of what it took for Chicago and Burnham specifically to bring the World's Fair to fruition was actually fascinating. What Burnham managed to accomplish in just two years' time despite the physical (devastating windstorms, fires, Chicago's challenging soil) and financial (the Panic of 1893!) hardships he faced is nothing short of miraculous. Larson's handling of Dr. H. H. Holmes and his elaborate "Murder Castle" was deeply unsettling and extremely compelling. I particularly enjoyed the saga of George Ferris and his architecturally "impossible" Wheel. I love when a book I'm reading connects and contextualizes things outside of itself for me that I wasn't expecting and in The Devil in the White City, I felt like my own personal little Easter eggs were popping up throughout the book. Like how Olmstead, the landscape architect of the World's Fair was simultaneously working on the Biltmore, or how Walt Disney's father Elias was enamored with the World Fair and visited several times. Larson also details how Holmes managed to dispose of several of his victims by having their skeletons articulated and selling them which wasn't suspicious because of how widely accepted grave robbing was at the time. Medical schools in particular were so desperate for cadavers that they didn't ask questions about where bodies came from and would even send envoys with armed guards to rob graves. Unapologetically! This gave me a deeper appreciation for Robert Louis Stevenson's short story "The Body Snatcher" which I read last year. 

But for all that, I felt like I was reading two separate books. I don't think Larson successfully ties his subject matter together, and when I got close to the end of the book and he threw in even more subplots like the assassination of Chicago's extraordinarily popular mayor, and a bit about Theodore Dreiser, it felt very disorienting to me. Don't get me wrong, it was all very interesting and it definitely hasn't put me off Larson as an author, but it wasn't cohesive and I'm a little surprised at just how mainstream The Devil in the White City has become. It will be very interesting as I continue to read Larson's books if The Devil in the White City will stand out for me as his best. My mom has read this one and also Dead Wake, his book about the sinking of the Lusitania, and she has said that Dead Wake is far and away the better of the two. That's probably the one I'll read next, but I'm also very curious to compare The Devil in the White City to his 2006 offering entitled Thunderstruck in which he employs the same device of interweaving two historical events. 

For a history buff like me, The Devil in the White City was a good read, but at this point, I wouldn't recommend Erik Larson over say, Laura Hillenbrand or David McCullough. We'll see how I feel once I have a few more of his books under my belt. 

Have you read any Erik Larson? If you've read any of his other books, did you think they were better than The Devil in the White City?

Pumpkin Carving 2025

Happy Halloween! 

The time has come around again for my favorite little tradition: pumpkin carving! And it just so happens that this year, we combined our love of reading with our love for spooky season. Can you guess what books inspired our pumpkins this year? Hint: my apparel is a clue. Keep scrolling to see what I mean.

After sitting outside on our front porch for a couple of weeks, our pumpkins were positively frosty when we brought them in last night for our annual fun. We both agreed that digging out nearly frozen pumpkin guts while sitting next to our cozy fire is exceedingly preferable to hot, steamy ones, something we've experienced a time or two in Florida Octobers. 

Can you make out Cody's design? Back at the beginning of March this year, Cody and I began reading the Harry Potter series aloud together. As you know if you've been around a while, I read Harry Potter for the first time back in 2019 and ended up loving them. Cody had read the first four books prior to this year, but had never read Order of the Phoenix, the Half-Blood Prince, or the Deathly Hallows. At the beginning of October, we started the final book in the series, so when we were deciding what to carve on our pumpkins this year, I had the brilliant idea to make them Harry Potter themed. Cody immediately got on board.

The result?

Cody decided to do the Sign of the Deathly Hallows, very apropos. I attempted Harry's messy hair, spectacles, and signature lightning bolt scar. We did both of these freehand—no stencils—and I just love how they turned out. 

We put Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone—my favorite of the film adaptations—on the TV while we carved, lit our glass pumpkin candles from the Dollar Tree, set up next to a cozy fire, and had a marvelous time of it. After our pumpkins were finished and we took them back outside to see how they looked all lit up, we made some hot chocolate and snuggled in to watch Harry discover the wizarding world. A successful night all around, I'd say, and certainly another successful year of our fun tradition. 

From us to you, a very happy Halloween and a jolly start to the holiday season. Can you believe there are only 61 days left in 2025? 

October 30, 2025

Let's Bust a Recap : Pollyanna

Well, despite the fact that I have no less than nine recaps sitting in drafts—some still from last year—I've spent this week blogging about my three most recently finished books. And none from my 2025 book list, to boot! C'est la vie. 

I've loved the 1960 film adaptation of Pollyanna since I was a little kid, and while I thought it would probably be lovely to read the 1913 novel by Eleanor H. Porter that inspired this classic, I've never come across a copy or made it a point to seek one out. 

But when my thirteen year old niece got her assigned reading list for school this year and Pollyanna was on it, I ordered a copy immediately and told her I'd happily read it with her.

And what a joy.

If you're unfamiliar with Pollyanna, that extraordinary child, well, don't feel bad because as it turns out, none of my nieces have yet seen the film. I know. It is a situation I will rectify as soon as possible. Pollyanna is the story of an eleven year old orphan sent to live with her dutiful Aunt Polly Harrington. After getting a pair of crutches instead of the hoped-for doll in a missionary barrel, Pollyanna's father makes a game out of finding something to be glad for in every situation. After Pollyanna's father dies and she's sent to live with Aunt Polly, she immediately begins a personal campaign to convert the inhabitants of Beldingsville to her glad way of life—except Aunt Polly who won't tolerate any mention of Pollyanna's father. And so our titular character became a byword for every eternal optimist. (Although calling someone a "Pollyanna" seems to be fading out of the vernacular to my everlasting chagrin.)

For the first eleven or twelve chapters, my beloved movie adaptation starring the perfectly cast Hayley Mills as sunshine-y—but not saccharine—Pollyanna seemed to follow the book to the letter, and I truly wondered if I would get much out of the reading experience. But as is almost unfailingly the case, the book had so much more to offer. One of the biggest changes was making young John Pendleton from Porter's beloved book into a much older man in the film adaptation. In the book, it's more of a mystery who Aunt Polly's scorned lover is and Mr. Pendleton is a strong contender. In my opinion, Porter's original story makes the adoption of Jimmy Bean so much more meaningful. The other big change is the nature of Pollyanna's horrible accident and subsequent care she received from her aunt and the town. The book proves so much better, but I'll always love Walt Disney for bringing this one to life on the screen. 

In case you couldn't already tell, I absolutely loved Pollyanna. It had all the hallmarks of an All-Time Favorite: it made me laugh and cry, I couldn't put it down but was sad when it ended, and it's a book I'm sure I'll reach for again. Yes, read the book; and yes, watch Hayley Mills bring Pollyanna to life. 

So there you go: a short and sweet review for this short and sweet book. What things make you glad?  

Let's Bust a Recap : Julie Andrews

Okay, every time I recap a memoir, I feel like I'm always saying how I'm not really a "memoir girl". And I stand by that, I do. But they have been sneaking into the reading rotation more and more in recent years and I feel the need to say, right at the outset: Julie Andrews' memoirs are the first I've picked up and read for the pure fandom. Mary Poppins was my first ever favorite movie. My mom can attest to the fact that I wore out a VHS watching it on repeat. And as you know, I paid good American money a couple weeks ago to go and see The Sound of Music in the cinema, even though I own it on DVD and just watched it earlier this year. Ever since I was a teeny-bopping middle schooler, Julie Andrews has been my number one choice of the person I'd love to sing a duet with if I could choose anyone in the whole world. When Princess Diaries 2 came out and Raven-Symoné got to sing with Queen Clarisse Renaldi at Mia's bachelorette party, I died a little inside. That could have been me, y'all. And listen, if these references are lost on you, don't sweat it, but maybe go to your local library and check out these movies. You're in for a great time. 

When these memoirs first came on my radar a few years ago, they immediately went on my wishlist because Julie Andrews, duh. And by the time I came across two pristine copies at my local Friends of the Library bookstore a few months ago (for a mere $2 apiece, I might add), I already had my ticket to the 60th anniversary screening of The Sound of Music in theaters. And even though these books were obviously not on my list for 2025, I can't turn up my nose at these serendipitous events of circumstance that life sometimes throws us. So shortly after finishing The Story of the Trapp Family Singers by Maria Trapp, I picked up Home, the first of Julie Andrews' two memoirs, published in 2008. 

This book is a memoir of Andrews' early years, starting with a bit of her own family history. Throughout the course of her narrative, Andrews takes us along as she remembers what it was like living in and around London during World War II, her parents' sad divorce that consequently split her and her brother Johnny up between her mother and father, and then beginning voice lessons and touring with her mother and stepfather's vaudeville act. Then getting her big break to star as Eliza Doolittle on Broadway, a role she originated there (oh, to have seen that!). She details more of her stage career leading up to Walt Disney himself contacting her and asking her to be his Mary Poppins. 

While I found this first of her memoirs to have a lot of interesting information, it was a bit slow-going at times. The memories of her early childhood are a bit disjointed (as I imagine most everyone's are), and the details of the different performers and managers she worked with in vaudeville and the stage throughout England were largely unfamiliar to me, making the reading a bit of a slog. 

Her second memoir, Home Work published in 2019, picks up where Home left off, with Julie and her first husband and baby daughter traveling to Hollywood to work on Mary Poppins. This is the book about her Hollywood years—from Mary Poppins to Victor/Victoria—and the flow of this memoir was a lot better, in my opinion. The names cropping up in Home Work were also a lot more familiar to me so naturally it made the reading a bit more interesting. The introduction in Home Work serves as a very serviceable review of Home so unless you are also a diehard fan, I would recommend skipping Home and just reading Home Work. The disappointing thing about her second memoir is that it ends before the infamous throat surgery that ruined her singing voice. While I imagine it wouldn't be pleasant to relive that time in her life for any reason, I was sort of hoping for Andrews' own perspective on the aftermath of that surgery and the impact it had on her life. 

Julie Andrews has always been class personified, and that shines through in her books. Everything in her life, even the difficult things, she writes about with a sort of rose-colored tint to it all—with a spoonful of sugar, if you will. It didn't feel very personal at all, more like she was just relating all the events of her life from almost an outsider's perspective. It was interesting. As much as I enjoyed reading her memoirs, I don't feel as if I really know her any better for it. 

Ultimately, I walked away from these books with a profound gratitude for my own mother. Julie Andrews' mum seemed like a real piece of work, and Julie herself seemed so swept up in her career, her second marriage to a substance-abusing husband, her ideal of living in Switzerland, that she never seemed to prioritize being a stabilizing force in her own children's lives. Her daughter and stepchildren were shuffled back and forth between parents, and the two little girls she adopted from Vietnam were raised by nannies. My own mother is an incredibly talented woman with a remarkable work ethic, and I'm not being glib when I say she could have done or been anything she wanted to be. But she chose to be fully present in the lives of her four children. She gave us the foundation to be anything we wanted to be. And I've watched her be my dad's rock my whole life. We would all fall apart without her, and I'm thankful she didn't leave my upbringing to chance or someone else. 

While I still wouldn't classify myself as a big memoir reader, I appreciate the compassion for others and the gratitude for my own life that reading these books brings up in me. And I guess that's a compelling enough reason to pick one up every once in a while. 

What memoir would you read based solely on your personal fandom of the writer? What person do you wish would write one?

Let's Bust a Recap : Desiring God

In 2003, the third edition of John Piper's seminal work, Desiring God, was published. It was big that year with one of the circles in my church's youth group so, naturally, being the bookworm that I am, I expressed an interest in reading it and my Dad got me a copy for Christmas. Well, I tried to start it a couple different times but never got much farther than the introduction. It's just not very easy to read. And it took me a while to get into it this time around as well. But your girl's not a quitter so I muscled my way through it and now I have a lot of thoughts about it that feel very disjointed so this recap is turning out to be a real struggle. 

Let me begin by saying: overall, I agree with pretty much everything Piper says in this book. It's Biblically sound and doctrinally I align with him.

But let me follow that up immediately with: I fundamentally disagree with the term "Christian hedonist" and as this entire 400 page book is a defense of this label, it was tough sledding at times. Piper himself is quick to admit that his pet phrase is shocking and that many respected theologians he is friends with don't appreciate it either. And he gives his reader permission to dismiss the vocabulary, if not the actual concept. So I have. You will never catch me calling myself a "Christian hedonist" and here's why. Words have meaning. And when you say certain words to people who don't have the time to read a whole book about why that word should mean something different than what they think, you're liable to give them the completely wrong idea about what you're saying. 

Piper quotes Saint Augustine early in the book:

If I were to ask you why you have believed in Christ, why you have become Christians, every man will answer truly, "For the sake of happiness."

This sums up Piper's thesis quite nicely and for the entirety of Desiring God, Piper quotes other thinkers and writers to great effect. So much so that I almost appreciated his quotations more than his original writing. And I'm not mad at that. The idea that as a Christian I should strive to find and do find all my happiness in God and that I cannot be truly happy apart from God is one I wholeheartedly agree with. He works out this concept for the reader in nine different areas of the Christian life including conversion, prayer, money, marriage, suffering, etc. And like I said at the beginning, I agree with his conclusions. The thing that makes this book so difficult to read is his writing. I would start a chapter and within the first quarter of the chapter, I would grasp exactly what he was trying to convey. And then the chapter went on unnecessarily for another three quarters. He would muddy up his clearly stated premise, and then at the end of each chapter offer another clear summary of his belief. Ultimately, I think this book could have accomplished his mission with about half the word count. 

This came as a bit of a curveball for me as the only other Piper I've read (This Momentary Marriage which I read in 2020) I praised as being so clear and straightforward (if a bit repetitive). But given that Desiring God was the third book Piper ever wrote and it came over twenty years—and over forty books!—before This Momentary Marriage, perhaps that makes sense. 

The greatest value for me in reading Desiring God was the reminder, the argument that being a Christian is supposed to be a joyful, happy thing. Piper rightly states in his book that so often in Christendom, the command to deny ourselves is misinterpreted to mean that if we're coming to Christ in a desire for our happiness, our motives are selfish and therefore, invalid. It can feel exhausting at times to be obedient to God and so we like to make that exhaustion in and of itself a virtue. But how better can we glorify God—our chief aim in life—than by being exuberantly, abundantly happy in Him? 

Would I recommend Desiring God? Not to everyone. If you're having a difficult time reconciling how to come to God seeking your own happiness while simultaneously giving Him all the glory, this is your book. If you're feeling cynical and hopelessly weighted down in your Christian walk, give this book a try. I'm definitely glad I read it, though it's not one I would necessarily pick up again. I am looking forward to reading The Pleasures of God which is the next book in Piper's unofficial Desiring God trilogy which concludes with his book Future Grace. The Pleasures of God is my husband's favorite book by Piper and he recommended Desiring God for my book list this year mainly so I could get to The Pleasures of God next.  

The TL;DR version: good, not great; glad I read it, probably wouldn't read again.

What do you think of when you hear the term "Christian hedonist"?

Let's Bust a Recap : Tea with Elephants

Believe it or not, I am still trying to catch up on recaps for books I read last year, and today we're going to cover one of them. Despite this book being by one of my all-time favorite authors with a title that sounds tailor-made for me, it left me with a bad taste in my mouth so I've just been putting off writing this recap even though I've pretty much known exactly what I want to say since finishing this one shortly after it was published last October. 

I mean, "Tea with Elephants"?! Come on. Do y'all remember when I wrote an entire blog post about a tea cup my sister-in-law sent me that was shaped like an elephant? I would have bought this book based on the title alone no matter who the author was, but the fact that Robin Jones Gunn wrote it meant I pre-ordered it immediately after it was announced and opened it up to read as soon as it arrived in the mail. This should have been an easy homerun, and for the most part I really enjoyed it but you guys, ugh. It just didn't do it for me. 

In this brand new series that Robin Jones Gunn is calling "Suitcase Sisters" (which is funny because this book fits solidly into her Sisterchicks format so why the new series?), best friends Fern and Lily end up on the trip of a lifetime to Kenya together, but both arrive carrying some heavy emotional baggage—recent job loss, a strained marital relationship, death of a close family member—and throughout their time together, they do what girlfriends do best: help each other process and heal. 

Like I said, it was mostly a solid offering from an author I love. The descriptions of the lush Kenyan landscape, the exotic animals, and the warm and welcoming people were right on the money. The entitled young influencer Lily and Fern encountered was instantly recognizable. The little Katie Weldon Easter egg for longtime readers was fun. 

But somewhere about halfway through this novel, Lily starts bringing up the fact that Fern has never had a baby and pushing the idea on her even though at no point did Fern bring this up on her own or ask for Lily's opinion. This was not part of the aforementioned baggage that either woman brought with them on the trip. And Fern has a stepson with her husband that she mothered and helped raise. By the end of their trip together, Fern has not only decided she now wants a baby, but when she gets home and informs her husband of this, they immediately get pregnant. This rubbed me so wrong. Now, full disclosure: I am the same age as Fern and Lily in this book, and I also have never experienced pregnancy or childbirth. Whether Robin Jones Gunn intended it or not, the underlying message that your worth as a woman can not be fully realized unless you have brought new life into this world through your body is so damaging. Especially to the countless women who so badly want children and for whatever reason, haven't had any. When I married my husband, I wanted a big family. I wanted to adopt, I wanted to be pregnant, I wanted a house full of kids, and my husband was on board. Over thirteen years later and God did not make us parents. And that's okay. It hasn't been all sunshine and rainbows and smiles, but can I just stand up on this soapbox for a minute and say this loudly for the people in the back: you can be a woman and have a joy-filled, God-glorifying, fully satisfying life without ever pushing a baby out of your body. You really can. 

Just for funsies after finishing this book, I did a Google search for books—novels specifically—about women who have dealt with infertility. I found a lengthy list of popular ones on Goodreads. After reading reviews of the top fifteen or twenty in which every single woman or couple dealing with infertility ended up with a healthy child by the end of the book: I gave up. I'm not one to complain about representation in media (I mean, hello, I'm a straight white American-born woman, what do I really have to complain about?), but if any of y'all are sitting on a really great novel in which the female protagonist starts out wanting a big family, for literally any reason discovers that is not going to be her reality, and then she embraces that reality by the end: please pass that title along, thanks.

I know this recap got a little rant-y, and we even entered some spoiler-y territory as well, but I felt blindsided as I read Tea with Elephants and I obviously had some Big Feelings about it. So would I recommend it? I mean, if you want to read Robin Jones Gunn, this isn't the book I'd press into your hands. But if you don't have any underlying trauma surrounding infertility or growing your family, this might be a great option for you. 

Did you ever get blindsided by a book you expected to really love?

Let's Bust a Recap : The Story of the Trapp Family Singers

I have been meaning to read the true story of Fräulein Maria and the von Trapp family since at least college when I went to Austria on a short study tour. The Sound of Music has been one of my favorite movies (and, I would argue, one of the greatest movies of all time) since I was a small child. I can sing every song from the iconic soundtrack—and often do—a power achieved not only from watching the film countless times, but from hearing my mother play the songs on the piano throughout my childhood and learning to play many of them myself. I always knew The Sound of Music was based on a true story, but I didn't realize that Maria herself had written it—years before the film came to be—until much later in my life. I've had my eyes peeled for a copy for years, but never came across one in the myriad bookstores I've visited. After rewatching the film for the gazillionth time earlier this year, I decided enough was enough: it was time to order a copy and finally read it. So in the middle of the night, while my husband was sound asleep (he didn't even make it through the first quarter of the movie), I opened my laptop, found a used copy on AbeBooks, and purchased it for $6.16. Before the book even arrived in my mailbox, I discovered that not only is the movie turning sixty this year, it's being re-released in theaters nationwide for the anniversary, and I'd have the opportunity to see it on the big screen about midway through September. So when the book did arrive, instead of reading it right away, I stuck it on my trusty book cart with the rest of my 2025 TBR and determined to read it right before going to watch the film at my local cinema. 

And come last week, on September 1st, I sure enough picked up The Story of the Trapp Family Singers by Maria Augusta Trapp and started to read it. 

And it is my favorite book of the year (so far). I laughed, I cried: it was the best of times. 

Originally published in 1949, The Story of the Trapp Family Singers starts where The Sound of Music starts, with mischievous Maria living as a novitiate at Nonnberg. The book is divided into two parts with the first part covering what we see in the film, and the second, much larger part covering the family's story after escaping from Nazi-occupied Austria. While I think The Sound of Music actually does a lovely job with Maria's story, after reading the book I've realized the film gives just a teeny tiny glimpse of a teeny tiny slice of the von Trapp family's life. There was so much I didn't know about the Trapp Family Singers. Like the fact that before Germany annexed Austria, the Trapp family traveled all over Europe singing for monarchs and even the pope. And that to escape Austria, they actually signed a contract for a concert tour in America and moved to the United States where they eventually became citizens and started their own Trapp Family Music Camp. Not to mention the relief work they did after the conclusion of the war to help Austria recover. The von Trapp Family Lodge and Resort is a travel destination in Vermont to this day...and has been added to my personal bucket list of places to go as soon as possible. 

I wasn't exactly sure what to expect when I picked up this book, but I loved Maria's simple, straightforward writing style, her no-nonsense, honest approach to telling her story, and especially how her deep faith was woven throughout every inch of this von Trapp family history. It was absolutely beautiful to read. And not only that: Maria was funny. Her story of being in the hospital after a surgery to have kidney stones removed and convincing her gullible nurse that the pet turtle Georg brought to keep her company is an animal that feeds on newborn babies' toes had me howling with laughter. I will add that Maria, like all of us, was very much a product of her own time and place in history, and at times it was jarring to see terms pop up in her writing for people of color, including black, Asian, and Native American people, that are no longer acceptable today. There was obviously no malice behind these monickers which made them seem even more out of place in this otherwise charming book. 

I can't recommend The Story of the Trapp Family Singers highly enough. Before I was even halfway done with the book, I texted my mother and told her she needs to read it immediately and I talked to my sister and told her she needs to read it, too. My mother and I, along with my sister-in-law and one of her friends, will be going to see the film based on this amazing story tomorrow night, and I'm excited to watch it once again, this time with a much fuller understanding of what this incredible family went through. 

What's the last book that absolutely delighted you? And do you plan to go see The Sound of Music this weekend on the big screen?

A Word for Wednesday

 "Many a one has lost his faith in God because he first lost his faith in man; 

and again, many a one has found his faith in God again 

because he met a good man who took the bitterness out of his heart."

~Michael von Faulhauber~

Let's Bust a Recap : The Summer I Turned Pretty

Oh hey there! I let another two months slip by without blogging a single thing so I'd say it's high time to revive my little corner of the internet...at least for the time being. I'm hopelessly behind on recaps but I've been too busy having a fabulous summer to worry about keeping up with the blog. My best friend Amy came to visit me twice in July and we decided to read The Summer I Turned Pretty trilogy together. I'm pretty sure she finished all three books before I even made it through the first one, but I finally finished them and I'm ready to talk about it.

A few years ago, our fledgling—now defunct—book club read Jenny Han's To All the Boys trilogy, and we all loved it. According to the internet, Han is actually best known for The Summer I Turned Pretty books which she wrote first so after reading and loving To All the Boys, I thought to myself, "Maybe someday I'll pick up The Summer I Turned Pretty." 

I also thought to myself, "The Summer I Turned Pretty could not possibly be as good as To All the Boys, so maybe I'll leave it alone." And I went back and forth like this every time I happened to think about it. So goes the typical internal struggle of your average bookworm. Or at least this bookworm. And then one day as I was scrolling Goodreads, I saw that one of my friends was starting To All the Boys and had previously given The Summer I Turned Pretty five stars. I immediately tapped out a comment detailing my dilemma, and she expressed the similar problem of having read The Summer I Turned Pretty first and loving it so much that she wasn't sure To All the Boys could live up to the hype. Well that did it. I'd read The Summer I Turned Pretty for myself and finally get to the bottom of my conundrum. 

SPOILER: To All the Boys I've Loved Before is far and away the superior trilogy. You just can't beat that killer premise. 

As it happened, I began reading the trilogy the same week the final season premiered on Amazon Prime. It seemed like the whole internet had divided into #TeamConrad or #TeamJeremiah, and even people in my real life were talking about it. At absolutely no point during the vicious cycle of my Jenny Han quandary did I have any intention of watching the show and even more so now that I have read the books I have zero desire to watch it. I am firmly in the camp of if-you-date-two-brothers-you-probably-have-no-business-ending-up-with-either-one-of-them. 

In case you were wondering what this trilogy is even about: I can basically sum it up by saying that over the course of three books, we get a front row seat to our protagonist Belly Conklin's angst over what to do about her lifelong love for Conrad Fisher when his younger brother (her best friend) Jeremiah Fisher confesses his love for her. The first book is completely from Belly's perspective during the summer of her 16th birthday. Every summer of young Belly's life, including the summer she was still in utero, has been spent at Cousins Beach with her mom, brother, and her mom's best friend and her two sons. Belly is the youngest of the four kids and has always felt left out of the boys' club, but this particular summer, she's no longer on the fringe of things. The second book is also mostly from Belly's perspective, but we also get to see behind the curtain into Jeremiah's perspective. And in the final installment of the trilogy, we get a few glimpses into Conrad's perspective. 

It wasn't great, but I will say that by the halfway point of the third book, I was invested and had to know how it would all turn out. Amy and I agreed that the middle book, It's Not Summer Without You, was the strongest of the trilogy, but differed when it came to whether the first or final book came in second: Amy preferred The Summer I Turned Pretty, while I actually really liked the ending Han managed to pull off in We'll Always Have Summer. 

Overall, I don't really understand why these books were such a hit. Belly wasn't a particularly likeable protagonist, and she never really grew up until we were down to the literal last pages. And as for the Fisher boys, I wasn't exactly swooning over either one. But to each their own. As far as my personal recommendation goes, skip The Summer I Turned Pretty but don't miss out on To All the Boys I've Loved Before.

Did you read this trilogy or watch the very popular Prime adaptation? Were you #TeamConrad, #TeamJeremiah, or #TeamGrowUpAndMoveOn? 

Let's Bust a Recap : Two Gentlemen of Verona

Two Gentlemen of Verona?? More like One Gentleman and One Scumbag of Verona. This is one of the Bard's earliest plays, and oh boy, what a doozy. 

We open on young Valentine gearing up to leave Verona to expand his horizons in Milan and trying to talk his best buddy Proteus into joining him. But Proteus doesn't want to leave his ladylove behind, not to mention he's a lame lazybones who can't be bothered to expand any horizons. 

So Valentine is all, "Hope your life is awesome. Peace out."

But then Proteus' dad is all, "You better get your good-for-nothing behind up and go see the world and quit embarrassing me, you massive disappointment." So then we have to listen to Proteus and his main squeeze Julia go on and on with much sighings and tears and swearing their love eternal to one another. Including exchanging rings and vows. 

Have you already guessed who the scumbag is and who the gentleman is? Hint: Proteus is the scumbag and I hate him. 

But let's not get ahead of ourselves. 

So Proteus follows Valentine literally the very next day accompanied by his servant Launce and Shakespeare's most famous dog Crab. 

(Let me just tell you that Launce and Crab provide a lot of comic relief throughout the play but since Crab's role is entirely non-speaking—what with him being a dog and all—and their bits not having much to do with the main plot: it's hard to translate here. Suffice it to say, we love Crab.)

Apparently within this twenty-four hour window, Valentine has gotten to Milan and fallen hopelessly in love with Silvia who is a total smokeshow but unfortunately promised by her father to sad sack Thurio. She obviously has zero interest in actually marrying Thurio, and she and Valentine have started making plans to run away together. 

In one day. Oh to be young and to feel love's keen sting. 

But then Proteus shows up and immediately falls for Silvia too. You know, the Proteus that just yesterday swore eternal love to Julia? Yeah. Same guy. He has like, a moment's pause over the fact that he's basically stabbing both Valentine, his best friend, and Julia, his eternal love, in the back, but no worries: he doesn't lose any sleep over it or anything.

Instead, he goes to Silvia's dad and spills the beans on Silvia's and Valentine's entire plan for elopement and gets his best friend banished from Milan. Classy. 

So Valentine is out wandering around in a forest (classic Shakespeare), and runs into a band of outlaws who decide to make him their leader because they're actually a bunch of standup guys and Valentine is the most upstanding of all standup guys there ever was. 

Back in Verona, Julia is wasting away missing Proteus and decides to dress up like a boy and go to Milan to be with him. Because can we have Shakespeare without any crossdressing? No we cannot. She gets there just in time to discover her eternal love serenading his love to fair Silvia who, by the way, has not given him the time of day. 

Silvia may be my favorite Shakespearean heroine of all time. Definitely in recent years. 

But does Julia give Proteus the what-for and leave that little git forever? Obviously not. The only course of action is to become his pageboy and torture herself. Naturally. 

Proteus gives Sebastian—the boy name Julia has chosen for herself—her own ring to take to Silvia, but Silvia does give him the what-for and tells him exactly what he can do with himself. 

Did I mention we love Silvia?

Silvia finally runs away into the forest to get away from her awful dad and sad sack Thurio but is immediately taken prisoner by the outlaws. As they're taking her back to Valentine, Proteus "rescues" her, and continues laying it on thick. Unbeknownst to Proteus though, Valentine is watching the whole thing. When Silvia still won't give it up to him, Proteus makes to rape her at which point Valentine steps in and is all, "You treacherous bastard, how dare you?!" But Proteus immediately pedals it back and is all, "I'm the most disgusting person to have ever lived." And Valentine is all, "Oh good, you get it too."

But then...forgives him and wishes him a good life? 

Like, Valentine, come on. 

And then Julia swoons and everyone realizes she's Julia and not some boy named Sebastian, and Proteus suddenly remembers that she's his one true love and they get back together. 

Oh Julia. Grow a spine, sis. 

Then Silvia's dad and Thurio show up. Thurio claims Silvia for his wife, but Valentine is all, "Try me. I will end you where you stand." 

I'm sorry, where was this attitude when Proteus was literally about to rape her?? But I digress.

Thurio immediately backs off because hellooo: sad sack.

Silvia's dad finally realizes what a loser Thurio is and how great Valentine is and consents to Silvia's marriage to Valentine. He also un-banishes all the outlaws. And they all live happily ever after. Except I guess for Thurio. 

Like, what? I was really with Valentine until he didn't immediately castrate Proteus when Proteus tried to force himself on Silvia. And Julia, really?

But that's Shakespeare for ya. At least we got Crab. And one heroine who actually ends up with a good guy if we overlook his easy forgiveness of the most reprehensible human ever. I mean, no one's perfect. 

Next up on my mission to read Shakespeare's complete works: Coriolanus in August. Maybe I'll get a recap up before four whole months go by. No promises. 

A Word for Wednesday

I made an attempt at a grin. "You wouldn't like it in Russia."

"I'll hate it everywhere if I'm not in this war! Why do you think I kept saying there wasn't any war all winter? I was going to keep on saying it until two seconds after I got a letter from Ottawa or Chungking or some place saying, 'Yes, you can enlist with us.'" A look of pleased achievement flickered over his face momentarily, as though he had really gotten such a letter. "Then there would have been a war."

"Finny," my voice broke but I went on, "Phinehas, you wouldn't be any good in the war, even if nothing had happened to your leg."

A look of amazement fell over him. It scared me, but I knew what I said was important and right, and my voice found that full tone voices have when they are expressing something long-felt and long-understood and released at last. "They'd get you some place at the front and there'd be a lull in the fighting, and the next thing anyone knew you'd be over with the Germans or the Japs, asking if they'd like to field a baseball team against our side. You'd be sitting in one of their command posts, teaching them English. Yes, you'd get confused and borrow one of their uniforms, and you'd lend them one of yours. Sure, that's just what would happen. You'd get things so scrambled up nobody would know who to fight any more. You'd make a mess, a terrible mess, Finny, out of the war." 

~from A Separate Peace by John Knowles~

Let's Bust a Recap : A Separate Peace

Okay, here's the thing: A Separate Peace was the first book I finished this year, and to be completely 100 with you, it's what threw this whole blog into a tailspin. How do you recap something so good? I've faced this problem before, but after ten years of blogging, getting the flu at the end of last year, and all the real life in between: I just wasn't up for the challenge. 

And I'm still not up for it. But we're doing it anyway because this book deserves its corner on the blog. 

On its face, John Knowles' 1959 debut novel is a young man's coming-of-age story set against the backdrop of World War II at a New England prep school. At the beginning of this novel, Gene Forrester returns to The Devon School fifteen years after leaving it and reflects on his time there from the summer of 1942 to the summer of 1943. At that time of his life, he's sixteen and living at Devon with his best friend and roommate Finny. Quiet, intellectual Gene and carefree, athletic Finny are about as unlike as two boys can be, but they are the closest of friends and in the summer of '42 they form a secret society with their friends, Finny seemingly doing his best to shut out the war and cling to their childhood for a few more precious weeks while the rest of the boys are trying to figure out how to grow up and get to the war. Gene in particular is going through a difficult process of self-discovery in regards to his friendship with Finny, moving from an envy and one-sided rivalry with his chum to the realization of Finny's quality and wanting to emulate him. 

It's heartbreaking. Like, I think my heart actually broke while I was reading this book. The National Review called it "a masterpiece", and truly it is nothing short of one. Much of this book is autobiographical in nature, and I think that's what makes it so successful. John Knowles went to a New Hampshire prep school during WWII and served in the US Army Air Forces at the very end of the war after finishing school. None of his other novels garnered the same success as A Separate Peace or continued to live in the public consciousness like this one did. It's still assigned reading in some school curriculums. 

I actually drew this title out of my TBR Jar last year and read about half of it before setting it aside to read some library books before they were due. This was a book that I could read slowly because every word stayed with me no matter how much time passed between the times I opened it. I put A Separate Peace in the same class with The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn or The Optimist's Daughter: I want to convey how good it is, but I'm at a loss for words. I want to recommend it to you, but maybe not if you won't appreciate it. It's just brilliant. I'll be sharing an excerpt that broke me on Wednesday. Maybe that will give you a sense. 

How do you feel about coming-of-age stories?