Tag Archives: books

2024: My Year in Books

I started tracking the books that I read in 2017 and have maintained that habit ever since. I typically read twenty-to-thirty each year, although that jumped to forty during the crazy COVID year of 2020. This year will end at thirty; however, I must say that as a whole the quality of this year’s list was remarkable, which is really saying something given what I have read in the past.

I made it a point several years ago to read just as much fiction as nonfiction, and I am proud that has become a habit, too. I tended to veer toward nonfiction, but I equally love and benefit from works of fiction, so I am glad to have achieved a balanced reading diet.

I don’t like to rank the books and declare favorites for multiple reasons. Well, actually, I do like to rank books and declare favorites, but for multiple reasons I try to avoid that tendency. Instead, I think I will just share the list below — divided by fiction/nonfiction in the order I read them — and share a note about each one. If anyone has follow-up questions, please feel free to ask publicly or privately.

Nonfiction:

  1. Spirit Run by Noe Alvarez (a gift from my daughter, Hillary, and a gift for runners who want to go on a crazy cool travel journey)                                       
  2. How to Know a Person by David Brooks (a gift from a former coworker, Shelley, and to risk sounding overly dramatic, should possibly be required reading for U.S. citizens in the 21st Century)                             
  3. Why We Sleep by Matthew Walker (fascinating insight into an underrated health crisis)                          
  4. Boys in the Boat by Daniel James Brown (a gift from my daughter, Erica, and a wonderful story of endurance and triumph through sport)                  
  5. Why We Love Baseball by Joe Posnanski (a gift from my daughter’s boyfriend, Quentin, and a perfect illustration of how a book’s title can capture its essence)                            
  6. The Servant Lawyer by Robert Cochran, Jr. (written by a friend and colleague that I deeply admire and helpful for any Christian in the legal profession)             
  7. Amusing Ourselves to Death by Neil Postman (recommended by my friend, Sandi, and it blew my mind that Postman’s remarkable insights predated the computer revolution — another on my required reading list for present-day Americans)                                 
  8. Somehow by Anne Lamott (another gift from my former coworker, Shelley, who is a fellow Anne Lamott fan; saying that this wasn’t my favorite Anne Lamott book would be like saying a sunset was slightly less spectacular than another)
  9. Eight Keys to Forgiveness by Robert Enright (Enright is a pioneer in examining forgiveness, which is a conflict resolution course I have taught for years, and I finally got around to reading one of his books, which was well worth it)                       
  10. Sapiens by Yuval Noah Harari (my friend/student, Laura, gave me Sapiens as a special gift, and both the gift and the book meant so much to me: it challenges everything, which is right up my alley, and I will be thinking on it forever)                                             
  11. The Universal Christ by Richard Rohr (Rohr is a gift to so many of us disillusioned by conservative Christianity, and while this book wasn’t the book I expected it to be for me personally, I found his thesis both compelling and helpful)                                              
  12. The Warmth of Other Suns by Isabel Wilkerson (a gift from my daughter, Erica, and while I said I wasn’t going to rank the books, this extraordinary telling of the Great Migration is probably the most impactful book that I read this year — yet another on the required reading list for all Americans)           
  13. Academic Coaching by Marc Howlett & Kristen Rademacher (recommended by two separate friends/colleagues, Tim and Brenda, and I was more than impressed that a book can be simultaneously well-researched, succinct, and practical)            
  14. Never Givin’ Up by Kurt Dietrich (an outstanding book from a new friend in Wisconsin chronicling the life of the sensational entertainer (and Ripon College alum), Al Jarreau)                             
  15. Introduction to Sport Law by Spengler, Anderson, Connaughton, and Baker (a textbook in preparation for a course that I get to teach this semester!)

Fiction:

  1. Clock Dance by Anne Tyler (I have long loved Anne Tyler novels)
  2. Elevation by Stephen King (King is a writing hero, and this novella was entertaining as expected, but not one of my favorites)
  3. The Midnight Library by Matt Haig (not what I expected, but a good read)
  4. Memphis by Tara Stringfellow (really good, probably especially if you are from near Memphis like me)
  5. Heaven and Earth Grocery Store by James McBride (a truly outstanding book, and possibly my favorite novel of all time, except that I kept reading more novels this year)
  6. Malibu Rising by Taylor Jenkins Reid (well, guilty pleasure reading maybe (?), but I enjoyed it since I knew all the Malibu references)
  7. The Lonely Hearts Book Club by Lucy Gilmore (stumbled on this book, characterized as a “feel-good” novel, which must be my kind of book since I like feeling good)
  8. Tom Lake by Ann Patchett (so, so good — Nashville author writing of an older couple living on a cherry farm in rural Michigan and recalling experiences of the glitz and glamor of Hollywood in younger years — that we moved from Malibu to rural Wisconsin later this year might suggest that this book is personally special)
  9. Our Town by Thornton Wilder (Tom Lake was based on Our Town, so I had to get around to finally reading it)
  10. Hula by Jasmin Iolani Hakes (picked this up during Asian American and Pacific Islander Heritage Month, and glad that I did — a challenging story that spans three generations of women)
  11. The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver (a recommendation from my daughter, Hillary, and I wondered how I had missed Kingsolver all of these years — so much that I wondered if it was better than Heaven and Earth Grocery Store)
  12. Demon Copperhead by Barbara Kingsolver (now all into Kingsolver, and based on a recommendation from my wife, I decided that Demon Copperhead is the best novel I have ever read)
  13. The Beginner’s Goodbye by Anne Tyler (did I say that I love Anne Tyler novels?)
  14. James by Percival Everett (my goodness, what a year of reading novels — this one won the National Book Award for fiction this year for good reason, and I absolutely loved it — a retelling of Adventures of Huckleberry Finn from Jim’s perspective, which is just brilliant)
  15. Atonement by Ian McEwan (I ended the year with a re-reading of Atonement, which I had said prior to 2024 was my favorite novel of all time — not sure I can still say that, but reading it again reminded me of why I loved it so much)

2023 List of Books

I don’t remember why I started counting how many books I read each year (narcissistic tendencies?), but for whatever reason, this is my seventh consecutive year to keep track. I wish I could declare a “book of the year,” but I am proud of the diversity represented in this year’s booklist, and there are just so many that are so good in so many different ways. Suffice it to say that in the past year, thanks to the authors below, I have traveled through time and space, experienced deep pain and silly laughter, learned new lessons and remembered old ones, and encountered both desperation and inspiration. I’m grateful for it all.

FICTION

  1. The Color Purple by Alice Walker
  2. Jonathan Livingston Seagull by Richard Bach
  3. The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho
  4. The Bluest Eye by Toni Morrison
  5. Annie John by Jamaica Kincaid
  6. Something to Do with Paying Attention by David Foster Wallace
  7. Oblivion: Stories by David Foster Wallace
  8. Jazz by Toni Morrison
  9. Later by Stephen King
  10. The Outsiders by S.E. Hinton
  11. Box Socials by W.P. Kinsella
  12. Cost of Arrogance by H. Mitchell Caldwell
  13. Morgan’s Passing by Anne Tyler
  14. Cost of Deceit by H. Mitchell Caldwell
  15. Democracy by Joan Didion
  16. Let Us Descend by Jesmyn Ward
  17. A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L’Engle

NONFICTION

  1. The Little Book of Restorative Justice for Colleges & Universities by David Karp
  2. Basketball (and Other Things) by Shea Serrano
  3. Free Cyntoia by Cyntoia Brown-Long
  4. The Terrible and Wonderful Reasons Why I Run Long Distances by The Oatmeal
  5. Telling the Truth by Frederick Buechner
  6. Father Flanagan of Boys Town: A Man of Vision by Huge Reilly and Kevin Warneke
  7. The Other Wes Moore by Wes Moore
  8. God, Human, Animal, Machine by Meghan O’Gieblyn
  9. Bettyville by George Hodgman
  10. Why Won’t You Apologize? by Harriet Lerner
  11. Liturgy of the Ordinary by Tish Warren
  12. Life Worth Living by Miroslav Volf, Matthew Croasmun, and Ryan McAnnally-Linz
  13. Dusk, Night, Dawn by Anne Lamott
  14. Failures of Forgiveness by Myisha Cherry
  15. A People’s History of American Higher Education by Philo A. Hutcheson
  16. The Grace of Troublesome Questions by Richard T. Hughes
  17. The Second Mountain by David Brooks

POETRY

  1. Good Poems: American Places by Garrison Keillor

The Last Bookstore

“A book is a dream that you hold in your hand.” – Neil Gaiman

I went to The Last Bookstore today. Not to worry, that’s just its name. If you are curious about the name, the owner opened his independent bookstore when physical bookstores were closing all over and thought, Well, maybe I’ll just open one more anyway. That was nearly twenty years ago, and the store has now grown to 22,000 square feet. Take that, Bezos.

So yeah, I drove thirty-eight miles, one way, through summer beach traffic and into swarming Downtown Los Angeles just to go to a bookstore. What, you might ask, would cause a person to drive thirty-eight miles, one way, through summer beach traffic and into swarming Downtown Los Angeles just to go to a bookstore? Well, it’s a cool bookstore. To wit: I arrived ten minutes before the doors opened at eleven, and there was a line. Some were there, I’m sure, for its Instagram popularity, ironically, but most appeared to be my people. Book people. Awkward, strange, beautiful book people.

You should know that me and my people, and this is hard to explain, think that a bookstore is a place where invisible magic happens. We really do. Good magic, mostly, so as you’d might expect, we’d rather be there than most any place around, except possibly our own special reading spots where we take the treasures we find in a bookstore. At the bookstore, we wander slowly through the stacks believing that magic is happening all around us. We’re searching for our own magic, so we do an odd little dance, sideways shuffling down the stacks, rarely making eye contact with our fellow citizens and wordlessly exchanging places with one another like a clumsy do-si-do, respecting the magic that we know is flirting with our fellow readers, too.

We believe and do all of this because our lives have been changed, magically, in a bookstore. We have been transported back in time, and I’m talking literally, and if you don’t know what I mean, then I can’t explain it to you. We have discovered new worlds that we had never imagined and now can’t live without. We have found ourselves in a bookstore, including soulmates that were dead before we arrived on this planet but who now live with us, magically. We have lived the lives of many others, too, vicariously. Maybe vicariously. Sometimes it is hard to tell.

I went to The Last Bookstore today and left with two new treasures: Box Socials by W.P. Kinsella, and Morgan’s Passing by Anne Tyler. At the checkout, with a line behind me, the staff member wanted to talk about Anne Tyler. We talked about our favorite Anne Tyler books, and for a few moments, we seemed to forget that this was actually a place of business. Probably because we knew it was much more.

So, I’ll be back, traffic be damned. Although I may take the subway next time since I noticed that The Last Bookstore is very close to the Pershing Square station. That way I can read a book.

Miss Pittman

Miss Jane PittmanI read twenty-five books in 2017, another twenty-five in 2018, and another twenty-five in 2019. I share that with the pride that comes from the rarity of setting a long-term goal and sticking to it. My goal was another twenty-five in 2020 to make it an even hundred in four years, but much to my surprise I am already through twenty in just half a year, so the odds are in my favor.

It isn’t that work has even hinted at letting up. Instead, this sudden reading feast appears to be a combination of no evening events to attend, no sports to follow on television, and a persistent need to escape the present circumstances. I am reading constantly.

Book number twenty was The Autobiography of Miss Jane Pittman. Years ago, while living in Ocean Springs, Mississippi, my friend, Bruno, gave me a copy of A Lesson Before Dying by Ernest J. Gaines, one of those novels that crawls into your heart and builds a nest. Last Christmas, while stocking up on used books at McKays with my family, I couldn’t pass up a copy of Gaines’s Miss Pittman. However, it sat in a stack for the first several months of 2020, but as enduring racism claimed global attention alongside the raging pandemic, it seemed like the time to read this particular story.

The stunning plotline of the novel is the reflection of a 100+ year old woman whose life stretched from the 1860s to the 1960s, from birth into slavery through a life of unrelenting white supremacy and into the pain of the Civil Rights era. Alice Walker described it as “grand, robust, a rich and very big novel,” to which I add a humble Amen.

As I read the frustrating, humiliating, yet strong and courageous journey of the novel’s heroine, given the time in which I was reading I thought of decade after decade of so many thinking that the American Civil War ended something that it did not. And one does not even have to try very hard to connect the dots and recognize that the American Civil Rights Movement was not a finish line either.

It is shameful that we had to argue over such an innocuous phrase, Black Lives Matter. I guess that shows how deep-seated racism actually is.

Miss Jane Pittman is technically a fictional character, but of course she was oh so real. It occurred to me that many more Miss Pittmans were born in the 1960s and are now over halfway through another century’s journey. I wish their story was less painful than it is, but I have seen them on the television mourning the loss of their children, too.

I am thankful to Mr. Gaines for introducing me to Miss Pittman and teaching me that even being shown and told that one does not fully matter for over a hundred years is impotent compared to the capacity of the human spirit. May such extraordinary fortitude be rewarded in the lives of real people.

Reading List (2019)

IMG_1521

“I guess there are never enough books.” – John Steinbeck

I am happy to report that I read twenty-five books for the third year in a row in spite of a crazy cross-country move. I have every intention of keeping up this particular discipline as the 2020s roll in. Here are a few observations from 2019:

#1: Five of the books were authored by friends: I sure have talented friends.
#2: It feels like Reimagining the Student Experience: Formative Practices for Changing Times was written just for my new job.
#3: I’m still enamored with Jesmyn Ward but am embarrassed that it took me this long to read beautiful novels from literary giants like James Baldwin, James Joyce, and Toni Morrison.
#4: Educated by Tara Westover blew my mind
#5: All in all, The Children by David Halberstam was my Book of the Year.

Here is my overall list for 2019:

Novels (6 this year—6 in 2018, 3 in 2017)
* Sing, Unburied, Sing by Jesmyn Ward
* Bowling Avenue by Ann Shayne
* Your Killin’ Heart by Peggy O’Neal Peden
* Dubliners by James Joyce
* Sula by Toni Morrison
* Go Tell It on the Mountain by James Baldwin

Books written by friends (5 this year—1 in 2018, 6 in 2017)
* White Jesus: The Architecture of Racism in Religion and Education by Allison Ash; Christopher Collins; Tabatha Jones Jolivet; and Alexander Jun
* Kingdom Come by John Mark Hicks & Bobby Valentine
* Colonel Jonathan: An American Story by John Francis Wilson
* Ten Frames at the Galaxy Bowl by Kyle Dickerson
* Letterville: The Town That God Built by Aaron Sain

Theology/Church (4 this year—8 in 2018, 6 in 2017)
* Conversations with Will D. Campbell, edited by Tom Royals
* Homosexuality and the Christian by Mark A. Yarhouse
* (Re-read) Falling Upward by Richard Rohr
* (Re-read) Law and the Bible: Justice, Mercy, and Legal Institutions, edited by Robert F. Cochran, Jr. and David VanDrunen

Leadership/Politics/Sociology (3 this year—0 in 2018, 0 in 2017)
* Whistling Vivaldi by Claude M. Steele
* Dying of Whiteness: How the Politics of Racial Resentment is Killing America’s Heartland by Jonathan M. Metzl
* Dare to Lead by Brene Brown

Biography/Memoir (2 this year—3 in 2018, 5 in 2017)
* Educated by Tara Westover
* Cash: The Autobiography by Johnny Cash

Education (2 this year—0 in 2018, 0 in 2017)
* Roaring Lambs: A Gentle Plan to Radically Change Your World by Bob Briner
* Reimagining the Student Experience: Formative Practices for Changing Times, edited by Brian Jensen and Sarah Visser

History (2 this year—1 in 2018, 1 in 2017)
* How Nashville Became Music City U.S.A.: 50 Years of Music Row by Michael Kosser
* The Children by David Halberstam

Poetry/Essays (1 this year—1 in 2018, 1 in 2017)
* The Farm by Wendell Berry

Sports (0 this year—3 in 2018, 3 in 2017)
Writing (0 this year—1 in 2018, 0 in 2017)
Crime (0 this year—1 in 2018, 0 in 2017)

The Teacher

IMG_0452“I had my first racial insult hurled at me as a child. I struck out at that child and fought the child physically. Mom was in the kitchen working. In telling her the story she, without turning to me, said, ‘Jimmy, what good did that do?’ And she did a long soliloquy then about our lives and who we were and the love of God and the love of Jesus in our home, in our congregation.  And her last sentence was, ‘Jimmy, there must be a better way.’ In many ways that’s the pivotal event of my life.” – Reverend James M. Lawson

It took me nine days to read a 700+ page book from cover to cover. The bulk of that was made possible by a cross-country flight that included an unexpected six-hour layover, but it was the captivating story and skilled story-teller that really did the trick. I would steal a few pages when I awakened each day, and at bedtime, and any time possible in between.

When we accepted the opportunity to move to Nashville, I stumbled across The Children and purchased it immediately. I am fascinated/humbled by the civil rights movement and wanted to know the history of my new community, of course, but more than that, Halberstam wrote one of my all-time favorite books (October 1964), and I could not believe that he was a young reporter for The Tennessean assigned to cover this story when it happened.

The book cover states, “On the first day of the sit-ins in Nashville, Tennessee, eight young black college students found themselves propelled into the leadership of the civil rights movement, as the movement—and America—entered a period of dramatic change. The courage and vision of these young people changed history.”

Our move has been hectic but good, and I had been simply intimidated to open the cover and start on such a hefty book. But wow, all it took was reading the first page. I was immediately embarrassed not to know the significance of what occurred in Nashville. I knew of the horrific murder of Emmett Till in Mississippi, of Rosa Parks in Montgomery, the Little Rock Nine, Freedom Riders, the Selma marchers, and the murder of Dr. King in Memphis, among other famous events, but I was stunned to discover that what took place here in Nashville was at the heart of it all—because “the children” (aka college students)—were the heart of it all.

I knew some of Diane Nash’s heroism but had no idea that John Lewis started his amazing journey in Nashville, and I was especially shocked to know that the infamous Marion Barry was a part of that early group. I somehow knew nothing of Jim Bevel or Bernard Lafayette, Rodney Powell or Gloria Johnson, Curtis Murphy or Hank Thomas. But I will never forget them now.

However, what may have had the greatest impact on me was not one of the children—but their teacher, Jim Lawson. Lawson is now ninety years old and lives here in Nashville. Some of my new friends have met him, and though I am envious of that honor, it is almost too much to imagine.

Lawson grew up and attended college in Ohio as a young man with deep faith and convictions. Lawson was fascinated by Gandhi and conscientiously objected to serving in the military, which for his time in history, sent him to prison for two years. Afterward he was a Methodist missionary in India where he studied Gandhi more deeply and then returned to pursue graduate work in religion at Oberlin College. It was at Oberlin in 1957 that Lawson met a like-minded (and aged) visiting speaker in Martin Luther King, Jr. He told Dr. King of his plan to pursue graduate degrees and then come to The South to work for reconciliation, but Dr. King told him that he was needed now and not to wait.

So Jim Lawson moved to Nashville, where he started teaching nonviolence training workshops to a small and eclectic group of college students—who changed the world.

There are a thousand things to note about Jim Lawson’s life, not the least of which being that he was the Memphis pastor that hosted Dr. King’s fateful trip, and I am sure that many have wildly different opinions about the stances he has taken along the way. But what I will never get out of my mind is Lawson teaching that group of young college students there in Kelly Miller Smith’s church in Nashville. He absolutely knew the dangerous road these “children” were embarking on—and did not hide it from them. How did it feel to know that? But it was the road to a better way, so he taught them anyway.

I live in a different Nashville today because of Jim Lawson’s courageous teaching. But Nashville, as with any other city, is nowhere near what Lawson described as the “beloved community” that inspired his teaching. With his example forever imprinted on my mind, I hope in some small way to teach courageously, too.

Educated

tara-westover-educatedI love reading books but hate writing book reviews and yet I must take the time to recommend Educated by Tara Westover. Not since reading Angela’s Ashes years ago has a memoir so affected me. Read the ridiculous list of accolades to discover that I am not alone.

The story is almost too much to believe, much less summarize. Tara grew up in the Idaho mountains with survivalist parents and six older siblings. Her mentally unstable father was the unmistakable (and very religious) family leader who operated a junkyard and prepared his family for the end of the world by stockpiling food, fuel, and weapons. He distrusted all things government as well as the medical establishment so, shielded by their isolation, none of the children attended school or visited doctors. With time and forced practice, Tara’s mother became well known as a midwife and healer. Miraculously, with not even a semi-serious attempt at home schooling, Tara got into college at Brigham Young University—and to shortcut the full mind-blowing story, now has a Ph.D. from Cambridge. But it is the full story, and in fact, the journey itself, that produced words in the promotional blurbs like remarkable, breathtaking, heart-wrenching, inspirational, brave, and naked.

I dislike clichés like “it’s a must read.” So I will quote what Bill Gates said about the book instead: “It’s even better than you’ve heard.”

What I am struggling with now is what to do with this powerful story. It has thrown me for a loop, and in my disoriented state I am trying to recover some measure of equilibrium to see what it has done to me.

My life in no way resembles Tara’s life. I can’t even imagine. And yet we read ourselves into every book—or at least I do—and I suspect that part of its power is my identification with growing up in a rather self-contained world and later moving to radically different worlds and trying to make sense of it all. I, too, love my roots and yet have been “educated” by a journey that I never even imagined. Further, I continue to work in the heart of an institution of higher education and see this sort of thing play out day after day. As the book review in The New York Times concluded back in March 2018, “She [Tara] is but yet another young person who left home for an education, now views the family she left across an uncomprehending ideological canyon, and isn’t going back.”

Tara shares mixed feelings, and I get it. Not only does she value education, she values her education. Read the story: Not only did it probably save her physical life, but it also saved her—her very self. But the sacrifice was great — and painful.

I check the box for “Christian” on surveys, but the word the Bible uses for self-description instead is “disciple,” a word that means “student.” Jesus made it quite clear that the call to discipleship requires sacrifice, possibly sacrificing your very family. Jesus didn’t even pretend this would be easy. But he said it was good. And ultimately worth it.

Maybe that’s what Tara’s story is doing to me. Thankfully, I never had to give up family on my particular journey, but maybe her story serves as a dramatic illustration for Bonhoeffer’s “Cost of Discipleship.” An education can cost you everything. At times that may very well be worth the price.

Resolute (Or, 17 for ’17)

happy-new-year-resolutions-quotes

I resolve to do the right thing even if it appears illogical.

I resolve to laugh more often and at inappropriate times.

I resolve to spend more time with people and less with screens and devices.

I resolve to see otherwise invisible people.

I resolve to spend more time with my eyes closed listening to good music.

I resolve not to listen to music when I’m driving.

I resolve to go for long runs in new places.

I resolve to spend more time outdoors in familiar places.

I resolve to try something new.

I resolve to treasure something old.

I resolve to feed my mind, body, and spirit healthy things.

I resolve not to give anyone or anything the power to choose my attitude.

I resolve to replace a noisy, busy life with a simple, smooth rhythm.

I resolve to read books and learn stuff.

I resolve to use my talents to make the world a better place.

I resolve to love my wife and daughters more than ever.

I resolve to live resolutely.