Charlie is autistic, brilliant and loyal. That's why she doesn't say anything when her boss is found murdered, and it is clear from the security footage that Charlie was witness to something that night. Her life isn't easy--raised in a hardscrabble style by a single mom until a selfish stepdad enters the picture, Charlie knows that she has only herself to rely on in many ways. So who does she trust when she has to navigate the twists and turns of a murder investigation? I didn't see the solution right up until it was revealed. Brava, Wendy Walker, who by the way, looks like she could be Blake Lively's sister, and, oh yeah, she's an attorney who used to work in child advocacy. Once I got over my inferiority complex, I decided I'd like to read everything she's ever written. Maybe I'll just skip the bio page next time.

The Long Haul remains one of my favorite books--the first chapter alone made me laugh so hard it hurt. With that in mind, I was excited to read this next project by Finn Murphy about his foray into the hemp "space" (world/agricultural endeavor/whatever) and dove in with gusto, just knowing I was in for another great ride. Instead of the easy banter of his former book, this reads more like an informational manual, slogging along and laden with data. If the first book was a white water ride, this was a plod through a plowed-up field dragging a 50 pound weight. While I'm all for learning something as I read, I also want the book to be enjoyable. This just wasn't, for me. It was clear that after his first success, the publisher thought another gold mine could be milked from Finn's latest adventure. Or perhaps Finn thought he'd try to salvage some of the wreckage of his failed farming attempts by luring loyal fans into buying this book. Could have been an amusing article, at best. Sorry, Finn.

This exhaustively researched book will give you yet one more reason to be ashamed of our past. Built in 1911, Crownsville Hospital in Maryland was designed for Black patients, built by Black patients (yes, that's right), and certainly funded at the expense of Black patients. Patients (called everything but that) who were brought to Crownsville, say for speaking with a British accent, protesting against racism (peacefully), and for not answering questions at a police station. Or mainly, for just being Black. Of course, we know that mental health assessment was quite subjective for anyone in that era, but there was an unapoligetic disparity between funding and staffing for local white hospitals and Crownsville, unsurprisingly. This book tracks this hospital, its workers, therapists and directors, the populace that surrounded it, and weaves the saga of what abject racism can do to hold people back in all sorts of ways.

My husband has always said, when frustrated by someone's behavior, that "80% of the world is idiots." A scathing summation of his fellow man, but at times, he believes it. I laughed when I learned that a similar declaration by a client is how author Thomas Erikson named his book. Believe me, I let my husband know that he's a "red"! Divided into four colors: red, yellow, green and blue, the "DISC" system breaks us all down into our dominant characteristics and explains what makes us tick, and how we can communicate effectively with each type. I found myself mentally assigning colors to myself, the people I know, and also to those I was just meeting. A guy sitting on a plane next to me saw me reading the book and informed me that his place of employment uses that system to enhance collegial communication (no surprise, he's a yellow--we ended up talking for the entire flight). It's very interesting, and an easy read. I did find myself wishing to be able to take the test, but alas, it's not included in the book. All in all, fascinating and enlightening, and as it turns out, we're not idiots at all.

Guess when I started reading this? After the inauguration of a certain president, you say? Why, you're right! Along with updating passports, this was my safety net. I read one small section at a time, over that term and the next, foolishly telling myself it was no longer necessary. Well, here we are in 2024 and I'm either going to read it again or move on to another country. Portugal? Uruguay? Not sure, but the search continues. This book was self-published, and usually that's the kiss of death in regards to my approval (or lack thereof), but in this case, I really enjoyed her style. Is it perfect? Nope. Are there typos? Yep. But somehow, it makes the whole thing feel more chatty--definitely not stuffy--and very relatable. She loves to use exclamation points which usually make me shake my head, but in her case, it just makes her seem optimistic and fun. The book is laid out in an organized fashion and was a good template for expatriating oneself, say, if someone came into power who was a complete megalomaniac (and idiot) and wanted to nullify the checks and balances of our government. Just hypothetically, of course.

A few of these stories were okay, but in all, they were oddly written and some were a little hard for me to follow. I'd originally gotten this book for an elderly friend who was in a "home", and I knew she liked mysteries. I was thinking she might enjoy something along the line of the old Ellery Queen short story mysteries, and this is what I landed on when I ordered online. Well, my friend died shortly after I placed my order, so the book was mine. Suffice it to say I'm glad I didn't give her this book--it's a far cry from the quick whodunits I had hoped I'd find in there. I just didn't find it enjoyable; not that he's not a good writer, but I felt an emptiness running through all the stories that tinged the whole book with bleakness. Not my style, I guess.

An elderly matriarch dies, and the will is read. The executor, a bit of a black sheep-type family member, is bequeathed one thing--a beautiful antique necklace. The layered story of the necklace and its history are what propel this tale of long-ago forbidden love, and a smoldering flame in the present. It was easy enough to read, but I wasn't roped in. The logic behind the family rumors of the big secret everyone's talked about for years was tenuous at best, and I felt like the pieces of the puzzle were a bit forced together in places. A solid B-.

It's impossible to say how getting to know a prisoner destined for the death penalty would change any of us. This (white, middle class) author and her family began a relationship with Cecil Johnson, a Black man, convicted of murder, as a church outreach project. What began as an assumption that they would help him, ended up to be something very different. Over many years he became a de facto member of their family, with everyone (including their two daughters) considering him someone special and close to them. His beautiful poetry is not something one would expect from someone sitting on death row. Although there was/is ample evidence that Mr. Johnson did not commit the crime which sent him to await his final day at the hands of the prison system, his position was that prison "saved" his life, literally as well as figuratively. His trajectory had been heading toward disaster, until it was changed abruptly by his sentence. So do we whip up righteous indignation at yet another Black man wrongly convicted and refused a retrial even though there was evidence to support it? Or do we celebrate the fact that a man awaiting his execution managed to find love, meaning and peace in the years he spent behind bars? It's complex, and there's no easy answer here. Nevertheless, it's a beautiful story of a beautiful relationship.

I'm not sure about the message of this book . . . maybe that no one is all good or all bad? (Spoilers ahead: beware.) Or that even a really nice person can be corrupted by power and money? Or that our view of what's "good" is warped? No matter how you slice it, it was pretty dang depressing. Not my fave.

It seems reasonable when you think about it, but at this point it seems hilarious that we could have lived in a state called "Navassa" (which is an island, in fact), "Adelsverein" or "Transylvania" (I'm not kidding). I could go on, but I'm not one to spoil. This is a fun book that will educate you as you chuckle along.

While I felt the author's first book, So You Want to Talk About Race , was insightful, I think she was just revving up for this new one. The topic is clearly delineated on the cover, so I needn't say more about that. In Mediocre , a scathing history lesson we all should be required to read, Oluo manages to deliver data we somehow missed (hmmm . . . I wonder how?) in school, shakes her proverbial finger at us for not knowing these things, and helps us know how to do better, all with a dose of humor. I felt like I was sitting down on a coffee break with somebody (a really smart and informed somebody) who could regale me with their knowledge and package it all up in an entertaining way. Make no mistake, this isn't a parody or a humor book. You'll be a tad ashamed that she had to tell you some of these things. But her delivery is such that it's easy to read at a gobble-it-up pace, and then you want to just be her neighbor to keep it going. Loved it, 100%, but was embarrassed, too. We should all be.

A weekend murder mystery event is jolted by the disappearance of one of the characters. Of course there's drama among the attendees and the crossover makes figuring out the real culprit challenging. A light read.