My March in reading

I spent a surprising amount of time on the road in March, so I listened to quite a few audiobooks—which is something I rarely do. Always a joy to consume even more literature.

The Age of Innocence by Edith Wharton

I first read this classic in 2020—but then it appeared in my podcast feed on Phoebe Reads a Mystery! Though nothing about that title is true in this case: it’s not a mystery, and it was read instead by Avery Trufelman, who has the perfect voice for the narrator. Laughing at the characters and their follies, but gently. It was as good as the first time I read it. I have to read more Wharton one of these days.

The Hotel Neversink by Adam O’Fallon Price

This novel tells the story of a terrible family secret and how it plays out through generations of the Sikorsky family, the owners of the Hotel Neversink—a magnificent property that fades over time after the disappearance of a young boy. It’s not quite a whodunnit—the probable culprit is clear thanks to that pesky family secret. But only the oldest generations of the family know the secret, so it’s interesting to read how younger generations cope with the ramifications of it. Like they’re trying to patch a sinking ship, but can’t find the hole because it’s in some hidden part of the ship that’s not in the blueprints. I really enjoyed this one.

The BreakBeat Poets Vol. 3: Halal if You Hear Me, edited by Fatimah Asghar and Safia Elhillo

I started reading this anthology of Muslim poets—many queer—back in January, and I had a wonderful few months luxuriating in these sticky, rich, tragic and triumphant works. I dog-eared so many pages with poems that I really loved: “Say Love Say God” by Zeina Hashem Beck, “Ode to Dalya’s Bald Spot” by Angel Nafis, “Ghazal” by Dilruba Ahmed, and “Aubade with Sage and Lemon” by Tarfia Faizullah, just to name a few.

Rabbits by Terry Miles (narrated by Christine Lakin)

This is the first audiobook I listened to during my road trip to visit my dad in Florida. I picked it out because I very much enjoy Miles’ podcast of the same name, which tells the convoluted story of a dangerous alternative reality game. Sort of like playing Dungeons & Dragons, except the game is superimposed on your own world and even the most innocuous things can be clues—or trouble. The book takes place in the same universe as the podcast, but it’s a different story, which I appreciated. I do think listening to the podcast first helped—I was already familiar with the “rules” of the game, if you could call them rules, which helped me keep track of things. But if you enjoy trippy techno-thrillers, I think you’ll enjoy this novel.

Velvet Was the Night by Silvia Moreno-Garcia (narrated by Gisela Chípe)

I loved Moreno-Garcia’s novel Mexican Gothic when I read it a few years ago, so I was excited to give this political noir a try. Aside from the fact that they’re both set in Mexico, the two books are very different. Velvet Was the Night takes place amidst political turmoil in 1970s Mexico City, and it switches between two perspectives: timid, romance-loving secretary Maite, who gets pulled into a dangerous search after her neighbor Leonora disappears; and rock-n-roller Elvis, a young gangster whose boss is also searching for Leonora for more nefarious reasons. It’s an exciting read for sure—and the nerd in me also enjoyed learning more about Mexican history, though it mainly provides a background for the events of the plot. If you like a good mystery, this one’s for you.

I’ll Be Gone in the Dark: One Woman’s Obsessive Search for the Golden State Killer by Michelle McNamara (narrated by Gabra Zackman)

I’ve heard people raving about this book for years, and while true crime is hit or miss for me, I decided to give it a try on my drive back from Florida. My friends: I hated it. Here’s the thing: Michelle McNamara seems like an incredible person, but because she died before the book was completed, the editors pulled much of the content from notes and rough drafts for various longform articles. So basically the book reads like an extremely repetitive, obnoxiously long magazine article. How many times can we hear the same details over and over and over? Especially when they’re so brutal? I’d rather read a book about Michelle McNamara’s life and death rather than this book. My favorite parts were the rare occasions when she turned the searchlight on herself.