Today, I began reading Monkey Grip: A Novel by Helen Garner. It’s a book that launched the career of one of Australia’s most celebrated writers. The story follows the infatuations of a young, single mother fascinated by the excesses of Melbourne’s late-70s counterculture. Monkey Grip is a seminal novel about Australia’s turbulent 1970s, including communal households, music, friendships, children, love, drugs, and sex.

Helen Garner is a renowned novelist, short-story writer, and journalist. She’s best known for her frank, unsparing, and intricate portrayals of Australian life, often drawn from the pages of her journals and diaries. A new US edition of her debut novel, which establishes Garner’s masterful and quietly radical literary voice, is now available.

The novel is set in Australia during the late 1970s and tells the story of Nora, a single mother and writer. Nora navigates Melbourne’s bohemian underground with her young daughter, Gracie, in tow. Nora falls in love with Javo, a flighty man trapped in his addiction. As their relationship disintegrates, Nora struggles to wean off a love that feels impossible to live without.

When Monkey Grip was first published in 1977, it caused a sensation. Critics praised Garner for her craft, but many criticized her gritty depictions of the human body, frankness about sex and drugs, the mess of motherhood, and her unabashed use of her own life as inspiration. Today, such criticism feels old-fashioned and glaringly gendered, and Monkey Grip is considered a modern masterpiece.

Today, I began reading “Neighbors and Other Stories” by Diane Oliver. It’s a powerful and eerie debut collection of stories that portrays the struggles of different characters as they face the everyday dangers of racism during the Jim Crow era. The book features an introduction by Tayari Jones.

Diane Oliver is an important yet often overlooked figure in African American literature of the 20th century. She was a gifted writer, ahead of her time, whose talent was cut short by her untimely death at 22 in 1966. Nevertheless, she left behind a remarkable collection of crisply written and often chilling tales that delve into race and racism in America during the 1950s and 60s. Oliver’s insightful stories remain relevant today; this is the only existing collection of her works. She has rightfully earned her place in the literary canon as a masterful storyteller.

The passage below describes several short stories with different themes. The first story, “The Closet on the Top Floor,” tells the story of Winifred, the first Black student in a newly integrated college. In this story, Winifred begins to disappear, physically creating a nightmarish scenario. The second story is titled “Mint Juleps not Served Here.” It’s about a couple who live deep in a forest with their son. They will go to bloody lengths to protect him from any danger. The third story, “Spiders Cry without Tears,” features a couple named Meg and Walt. They must confront prejudices and strains of interracial and extramarital love. Finally, the last story is the titular one, and it’s a high-tension narrative that follows a nervous older sister the night before her younger brother is set to desegregate his school.

These are powerful and personal depictions of African American families‘ everyday struggles and moments of distress, illustrating how they utilize their abilities to overcome challenges. “Neighbors” is an enthralling compilation and a valuable historical and social document, displaying the remarkable literary skills of a previously overlooked author.

Today, I began reading “Corey Fah Does Social Mobility: A Novel” by Isabel Waidner. The book is about Corey Fah, a writer whose novel has just won the Fictionalization of Social Evils prize. Despite this achievement, the trophy and funds with the award still need to be in reach. The novel celebrates radical queer survival and challenges false notions of success.

Corey, their partner Drew, and their pet spider, Bambi Pavok, embark on a quest to find an elusive trophy with neon-beige color and UFO-like qualities. This journey takes them back to their childhood in the forest and includes a stint on a reality TV show. While facing the horrors of wormholes and time loops, Corey discovers the difference between a prize and a gift in a complex way.

Following the Goldsmiths Prize–winning Sterling Karat Gold, Isabel Waidner’s bold and buoyant new novel is about coming into one’s own, the labor of love, the tendency of history to repeat itself, and what ensues when a large amount of cultural capital is suddenly deposited in a place it has never been before.

I started reading “The Women: A Novel” by Kristin Hannah today. This book is written by the same author who wrote “The Nightingale” and “The Four Winds.” “The Women” is a story set in a difficult time, depicting a woman’s coming-of-age journey and an epic tale of a divided nation. It highlights that women can be heroes, too.

When twenty-year-old nursing student Frances “Frankie” McGrath hears these words, it is a revelation to her. She was raised in Southern California’s sun-drenched, idyllic world and was sheltered by her conservative parents. She has always prided herself on doing the right thing. However, in 1965, the world is changing, and Frankie suddenly dares to imagine a different future for herself. When her brother ships out to serve in Vietnam, she decides to join the Army Nurse Corps and follows his path.

Frankie, who is as inexperienced as the young men sent to fight in Vietnam, is struggling to cope with the chaos and destruction of war. Every day is a life-or-death gamble that can be filled with hope, betrayal, and shattered friendships. In this brutal reality, she encounters and becomes one of the lucky, the brave, the broken, and the lost.

War is just the beginning for Frankie and her veteran friends. The actual battle awaits when they return home to a divided and changing America, met by angry protesters and a nation wanting to forget Vietnam.

“The Women” is a novel that tells the story of a woman who goes to war. Still, its purpose is to bring attention to all the women who have put themselves in danger for their country and whose sacrifice and dedication have often been overlooked. The book is about solid friendships and patriotism, and it portrays a brave and idealistic heroine whose courage in times of war will become a defining moment in history.

I delved into the pages of “Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow: A Novel” by Gabrielle Zevin. The narrative unfolds the lives of Sam and Sadie, two college friends who evolve into creative partners in video game design. Their journey is a tapestry of fame, joy, tragedy, duplicity, and a form of immortality, all woven into a unique love story that captivated me like no other.

This love story uniquely portrays the challenges and triumphs of a relationship in the context of their shared creative endeavors.

On a bitter-cold day in December of his junior year at Harvard, Sam Masur exits a subway car and sees Sadie Green amid the hordes of people waiting on the platform. He calls her name. For a moment, she pretends she hasn’t heard him, but then, she turns, and a game begins: a legendary collaboration that will launch them to stardom.

These friends, who have been close since childhood, take bold steps, borrow money, and seek favors. Even before they graduate from college, they have birthed their first blockbuster, Ichigo. In a blink, the world is at their feet. Sam and Sadie, not yet twenty-five, are shining with brilliance, success, and wealth. But these attributes can’t shield them from their emotional rollercoaster of creative aspirations and the heartbreaks that come with it.

Spanning thirty years, from Cambridge, Massachusetts, to Venice Beach, California, and lands in between and far beyond, Gabrielle Zevin‘s Tomorrow, Tomorrow, and Tomorrow provides a profound exploration of the diverse nature of identity, disability, failure, the redemptive possibilities in play, and above all, our deep-seated need to connect: to be loved and to love. It’s a journey that will make you reflect on your life and relationships.

Working by Robert A. Caro is a book of evocatively written essays on his life and work. Among the many valuable words of wisdom is his case that one needs to look at every piece of information, not just what we know when we begin. Far too often, people jump to conclusions without having learned all of the facts.

He describes what it was like to interview the mighty Robert Moses and to begin discovering the extent of the political power Moses wielded; the combination of discouragement and exhilaration he felt confronting the vast holdings of the Lyndon B. Johnson Library in Austin, Texas; his encounters with witnesses, including longtime residents wrenchingly displaced by the construction of Moses’ Cross-Bronx Expressway and Lady Bird Johnson acknowledging the beauty and influence of one of LBJ‘s mistresses. He gratefully remembers how, after years of working in solitude, he found a writers’ community at the New York Public Library, and details the ways he goes about planning and composing his books.

Caro recalls the moments at which he came to understand that he wanted to write not just about the men who wielded power but about the people and the politics that were shaped by that power. And he talks about the importance to him of the writing itself, of how he tries to infuse it with a sense of place and mood to bring characters and situations to life on the page. Taken together, these reminiscences–some previously published, some written expressly for this book–bring into focus the passion, the wry self-deprecation, and the integrity with which this brilliant historian has always approached his work.

I found this one of the best books I have read and recommend it to all readers.

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Lucy by the Sea: A Novel by Elizabeth Strout is a poignant, pitch-perfect novel about a divorced couple stuck together during lockdown–and the love, loss, despair, and hope that animate us even as the world seems to be falling apart. Having lost Jan during Covid, I was apprehensive about reading this book. However, it was not only a page-turner but also a novel that gave me a new perspective on loss which helped me manage my grief.

With her trademark spare, crystalline prose, Elizabeth Strout turns her exquisitely tuned eye to the inner workings of the human heart, following the indomitable heroine of My Name Is Lucy Barton through the early days of the pandemic.

I highlighted several passages that specifically spoke to me.

We all live with people—and places—and things—that we have given great weight to. But we are weightless, in the end.

Who knows why people are different? We are born with a certain nature, I think. And then the world takes its swings at us.

It has been said that the second year of widowhood is worse than the first—the idea being, I think, that the shock has worn off and now one has to live with the loss, and I had been finding that to be true, even before I came to Maine with William. But now there were times I felt that I was just learning of David’s death again for the first time. And I would be privately staggered by grief. And to be in this place where David had never been (!)—I was really dislocated is what I mean.

And I also understood: Grief is a private thing. God, is it a private thing.

We are all in lockdown, all the time. We just don’t know it, that’s all. But we do the best we can. Most of us are just trying to get through.

The Goodreads summary provides an overview,

As a panicked world goes into lockdown, Lucy Barton is uprooted from her life in Manhattan and bundled away to a small town in Maine by her ex-husband and on-again, off-again friend, William. For the next several months, it’s just Lucy, William, and their complex past together in a little house nestled against the moody, swirling sea.

Rich with empathy and emotion, Lucy by the Sea vividly captures the fear and struggles that come with isolation, as well as the hope, peace, and possibilities that those long, quiet days can inspire. At the heart of this story are the deep human connections that unite us even when we’re apart–the pain of a beloved daughter’s suffering, the emptiness that comes from the death of a loved one, the promise of a new friendship, and the comfort of an old, enduring love.

The Jan Lilien Education Fund sponsors ongoing sustainability and environmental awareness programs. Gifts made this month; I will match dollar-for-dollar. All donations are tax-deductible.

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I receive a commission when you buy a book or product using a link on this page. Thank you for supporting Sharing Jan’s Love blog.

The Vanishing Half by Brit Bennett was a true page-turner, and I did not want to stop reading it even when I got to the last page. I am not a fan of sequels, but if I was ever going to change my mind, this is the book I would want to read a sequel.

Ms. Bennett focuses on two twins who run away from home at age 16. They have grown up in Mallard, a fictional town in Louisiana. “In Mallard, nobody married dark,” Bennett writes starkly. Over time, its prejudices deepened as its population became lighter and lighter, “like a cup of coffee steadily diluted with cream.” The twins, with their “creamy skin, hazel eyes, wavy hair,” would have delighted the town’s founder. One of the women chooses to pass as white while the other does not.

The Vignes twin sisters will always be identical. But after growing up together in a small, southern black community and running away at age sixteen, it’s not just the shape of their daily lives that is different as adults, it’s everything: their families, their communities, their racial identities. Many years later, one sister lives with her black daughter in the same southern town she once tried to escape. The other passes for white, and her white husband knows nothing of her past. Still, even separated by so many miles and just as many lies, the fates of the twins remain intertwined. What will happen to the next generation, when their own daughters’ storylines intersect?

Weaving together multiple strands and generations of this family, from the Deep South to California, from the 1950s to the 1990s, Brit Bennett produces a story that is at once a riveting, emotional family story and a brilliant exploration of the American history of passing. Looking well beyond issues of race, The Vanishing Half considers the lasting influence of the past as it shapes a person’s decisions, desires, and expectations, and explores some of the multiple reasons and realms in which people sometimes feel pulled to live as something other than their origins.

The question of why people choose to live differently than their origins is one that I often ponder. Growing up in a small town and living in a metropolis raises questions for me as to what my life is now and what was once.

I strongly recommend this book.

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One of the most important and blazingly original writers of his generation, George Saunders, is an undisputed master of the short story. Tenth of December is his most honest, accessible, and moving collection yet. It is one of the New York Times’ 100 Best Books of the Century. The book is structured as a collection of short stories, each offering a unique and compelling narrative.

In the taut opener, “Victory Lap,” a boy witnesses the attempted abduction of the girl next door and is faced with a harrowing choice: Does he ignore what he sees or override years of smothering advice from his parents and act?

In “Home,” a combat-damaged soldier moves back in with his mother and struggles to reconcile the world he left with the one to which he has returned.

In the title story, a stunning meditation on imagination, memory, and loss, a middle-aged cancer patient walks into the woods to commit suicide, only to encounter a troubled young boy who, throughout a fateful morning, gives the dying man a final chance to recall who he is.

An unfortunate, deluded owner of an antique store; two mothers struggling to do the right thing; a teenage girl whose idealism is challenged by a brutal brush with reality; a man tormented by a series of pharmaceutical experiments that force him to lust, to love, to kill—the unforgettable characters that populate the pages of Tenth of December are vividly and lovingly infused with Saunders’s signature blend of exuberant prose, deep humanity, and stylistic innovation.

Writing brilliantly and profoundly about class, sex, love, loss, work, despair, and war, Saunders cuts to the core of the contemporary experience. These stories take on the big questions and explore the fault lines of our morality, delving into what makes us suitable and what makes us human. They are not just stories but profound explorations that will stimulate your intellect and make you ponder.

Unsettling, insightful, and hilarious, the stories in Tenth of December—through their manic energy, their focus on what is redeemable in human beings, and their generosity of spirit—not only entertain and delight but also fulfill Chekhov’s dictum that art should “prepare us for tenderness.” The humor in these stories will keep you entertained and laughing, even as they delve into profound themes.

I started reading “Ripe: A Novel” by Sarah Rose Etter today. This book has won awards and is highly praised by Roxane Gay for its uniqueness and brilliance. It tells the story of a woman in Silicon Valley who must choose how much she will sacrifice for success. Fans of “My Year of Rest and Relaxation” and “Her Body and Other Parties” will enjoy this surreal tale.

Cassie has worked at a Silicon Valley start-up for a year but feels stuck in a corporate nightmare. The long hours, toxic bosses, and unethical projects are taking a toll on her. She has a hard time reconciling the stark contrast between the abundance of wealth and the poverty and suffering that exist side by side in the city. Cassie observes Ivy League graduates complaining about snack options in a conference room overlooking unhoused people bathing in the bay. She’s witnessed start-up burnouts who throw themselves in front of commuter trains and men who light themselves on fire in the streets.

Even though Cassie is often by herself, she never feels entirely alone. Since she can remember, she has had a tiny black hole that is always with her. This black hole feeds off her feelings of sadness and worry, getting bigger or smaller depending on how much she struggles. While it watches her, it also waits patiently. Its powerful force keeps pulling Cassie closer as everything in her life seems to fall apart.

Cassie finds herself pregnant unexpectedly while dealing with her CEO’s illegal demands. She must weigh the benefits of Silicon Valley against the risks. Ripe follows the journey of one millennial woman through the absurdities of modern life, offering a sharp yet vulnerable, unsettling yet darkly comic commentary on our late-capitalist hellscape.

The Jan Lilien Education Fund sponsors ongoing sustainability and environmental awareness programs. Gifts made this month; I will match dollar-for-dollar. All donations are tax-deductible.

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I receive a commission when you buy a book or product using a link on this page. Thank you for supporting Sharing Jan’s Love blog.