Tag Archives: the warmth of other suns

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)

A Time to Plant, and a Time to Uproot: A Couple of Thoughts from a Frequent Flier

Well, at least no one can say that Jody and I were boring in the first half of the 2020s.

All that to say: I recently moved to Wisconsin. [Pause for predictable reactions.] And, Jody will join me here soon. We anticipated the jokes about our pinball-machine behavior over the past few years,1 but in all candor, a certain Rhett Butler quote comes to mind. It has been a bumpy road that led to Wisconsin, but it is our road and only our road, and we are grateful for the ride as well as its destination.

Six states now. Six! Six DMV visits. Six license plates, and no, we’re not aiming for the complete set.

You won’t believe me, but as a general rule I believe that staying put should be the default life position. Chasing greener grass is a fool’s game. (Although, full disclosure: I have found that the grass in Wisconsin actually is greener than the grass in Southern California (but that’s beside the point).) Chasing excitement and/or fleeing boredom is not the way to live in my opinion, but sometimes . . . some-times . . . there may come a time to move on.2 I cannot say when that might be for anyone else, if ever, but I can say that if the call ever becomes clear, my experience is that it is worth listening.

For dramatic example, I am currently reading Isabel Wilkerson’s beautiful and important book, The Warmth of Other Suns, a masterful chronicling of “The Great Migration” of Black American citizens to the North and West from the Jim Crow South between 1915-1970.3 I am astounded both by the relentless instances of racial terror that led to the diaspora and the incredible courage required to undertake the harrowing journey.4 Your possible journey to some version of freedom (and mine) will be ridiculously less challenging, less dramatic, and less heroic than the stories Wilkerson shares of other journeys that led human beings, for instance, from Arkansas to Wisconsin, but their stories display in unforgettable fashion that human beings can pursue freedom in even the most terrible of circumstances.

Our journey is not book-worthy, but it is incredibly special to us. I love my Arkansas roots, but if you became a part of our life story in Mississippi, or California, or Tennessee, or Illinois, or California (again) — and you know who you are — then each move was more than worth it for us. I know I speak for Jody when I say that our lives are incomplete and unimaginable without you in it.

So you can laugh at us for moving again all you want, because we know what awaits us here in Wisconsin before it even happens: More special people. Plus, this time, in private and personal ways, our own unique type of freedom.

Stay tuned if you are at all interested as I resume my blogging habit, and I will be sure to narrate as our life unfolds in this new and beautiful part of the country.

And Good Lord, if I might put in (another) request, may whatever years we have left see far more planting and much less uprooting.

  1. Yes, I am eating the words that I posted less than a year ago, “Moving ever again sounds like a terrible idea.” ↩︎
  2. Ecclesiastes 3: 1-2. ↩︎
  3. Nearly six million human beings made the journey. ↩︎
  4. Wilkerson shares the story of Arrington High, a native of Mississippi who was imprisoned in an insane asylum in the 1950s for speaking against injustice, helped to escape and cross the state line into Alabama, and then nailed into a coffin and shipped on a train to Chicago. ↩︎