My August in reading

My dad is having some health problems, so I’ve been driving back and forth between Louisville and Wisconsin a lot—which means my audiobook consumption went through the roof in August.

Heads of the Colored People by Nafissa Thompson-Spires

I can’t tell you how many times I finished a piece in this collection and thought to myself, “now that’s a short story.” It’s not that Thompson-Spires’ writing is particularly traditional—it’s that she’s a champion of the short story twist, where the character or concept gets turned on its head with just a sentence or two. Her Black characters navigate their way through tragedy, absurdity, love and more with wit and dignity—though sometimes they’re clumsy or snarky, and that’s wonderful too. There’s one story told in increasingly pointed notes sent from one parent to another in their kids’ backpacks. In another, a character considers suicide for social media attention. I really loved this collection.

Anatomy: A Love Story by Dana Schwartz (narrated by Mhairi Morrison & Tim Campbell)

I’ve been wanting to read this one for a while, and I’m glad I chose it for a long road trip—the gripping plot kept me focused. Hazel Sinnet is a wealthy young woman in 19th-century Edinburgh, engaged to marry her viscount cousin—but all she really wants to do is become a surgeon. As a woman, she can’t attend the Anatomist’s Society, but maybe she can still take the Physician’s Exam—as long as she can find some corpses to study. And so she befriends scrappy Jack Currer—a resurrectionist. The Roman Fever is sweeping through town, and poor children are going missing, only to return with horrible injuries. What’s not to love? It’s a YA novel, but it doesn’t necessarily give me major YA vibes. It’s pretty gruesome! I only wish I’d read it in the winter—seems like it would be a good one to read cozied up in front of a fire.

Margaret and the Mystery of the Missing Body by Megan Milks

My best friend and I formed our own detective agency when we were eight years old, so I was thrilled to read this novel about Margaret, who does the same with her friends. Only they grow out of it before she does. And that’s when her eating disorder begins. (BIG content warning for eating disorders in this one.) The way Milks wrote this novel fascinates me. Parts of it are told in Babysitter’s Club-style recountings of teen detective stories—only the stories are impossible, filled with the paranormal and the just plain weird. Part of it takes place at a treatment facility—where a ghost lives, of course. I don’t want to spoil where another part takes place—it’s just so delightfully bizarre. Oh, and the whole thing is extremely queer. I’d say it’s a must-read.

This Thing Between Us by Gus Moreno (narrated by Robb Moreira)

Do you want to be sad and frightened at the same time? Great—Moreno’s cosmic horror novel is the book for you. When Thiago’s wife Vera is killed by a young immigrant, politicians try to make her death serve their own conservative agendas, and no one in his life seems to comprehend the depth of his grief—except his mother-in-law. He might have expected to be haunted by Vera. He did not expect to be haunted by his Itza smart speaker. No matter where he goes, his Itza is as inescapable as death itself. This novel is truly weird—you won’t be able to figure out if you’re internally laughing or screaming. Maybe both. Definitely recommend this one for the upcoming spooky season.

No Exit by Jean-Paul Sartre

Kind of a weird choice, I know—but I’m writing a claustrophobic chapter in my WIP right now, and I needed some inspiration. In case you haven’t read it, No Exit is about hell. Only hell turns out to be—as the play famously contends—other people. Three people trapped in a room together without end. It’s like The Breakfast Club without a happy ending. This was my first time reading it in English—the last time I read it was my AP French class in senior year of high school.

Mona at Sea by Elizabeth Gonzalez James (narrated by Aida Reluzco)

Are you a Millennial? You must read this novel. As someone who graduated college directly into the Great Recession, this story resonated deep in my bones. After a lifetime of high achievement, Mona Mireles is hired at a big financial firm in NYC—only to find the doors locked when she arrives on her first day. When her reaction is captured by a reporter, she becomes the “sad millennial” internet meme—which definitely isn’t helping her find another job. Depressed and resentful, she has to navigate the recession while her family is falling apart. Mona is not always likeable, and it’s satisfying to watch her get knocked down a few hundred pegs. Mona is always very funny. Mona has a lot of potential—but not the kind she thinks she has. Can’t recommend this book enough. (CW for self-harm.)

The Women Could Fly by Megan Giddings

I can see why people are comparing this novel to The Handmaid’s Tale, but that wouldn’t necessarily be my first comparison. The Women Could Fly isn’t a dystopian future—it’s a contemporary alternate universe where everything is pretty much the same, except that society believes women are susceptible to witchcraft, so they either have to marry by 30 or register with the state. Josephine’s mother disappeared when she was young—there was an Unsolved Mysteries episode about it and everything. Nearing 30, she learns of a provision in her mother’s will that asks her to travel to an island in the middle of Lake Superior. Looking for some kind of closure, she goes on the journey—where she encounters real witchcraft and then some. This novel is developed enough to address the intersectionality of its premise—how does the suspicion of witchcraft affect Black, queer women like Jo in particular? What about gay men or trans folks? Also, Giddings’ descriptions are wonderfully grotesque—sticky and vivid and pungent and screeching. Should I say it? I’ll say it. THIS BOOK PUT A SPELL ON ME. Sorry, but it’s true—I devoured it. You have to read it.