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.

"No human contact" was created because of two men whose separate crimes on the same day captured the attention of the Bureau of Prisons. This book tells their stories, before they landed in prison, and up to their final day. There are so many ways to look at these men--compassionately, as victims themselves, as they most certainly were, or as perpetrators. And what about rehabilitation? Is that always possible? And if it's proven to have taken place, can, or even should a sentence be reversed? Is there a case to be made that keeping someone away from other potential negative influences is the reason someone may have the time and inclination for introspection and change? There's no easy answer here, and the stories are just heartbreaking coming and going.

Sometimes "they" talk about cloning prehistoric animals, a la Jurassic Park, and I think we all heave a wistful sigh about the possibility of seeing a wooly mammoth roaming around in the local safari-style zoo. Who wouldn't love seeing a fluffy version of Babar? A whole new line of stuffies would be launched, and teams would start sporting a new wooly mascot. So much fun! But is all extinction really so bad? My opinion is not so, in the case of the megalodon, or "Big Meg", a super-sized shark that would make a snack of a great white. Authors (a dad and daughter team of Flannerys) will ruin your potential sleepy time with tales of how this behemoth (probably) attacked and killed its prey, and how the poor saps watching from the shore probably vowed to stay away from the water forever. Maybe that's why they found that land bridge. Horror aside, it was fascinating. But I'd suggest reading another happy book along with it, if you value your dreams, that is.

A prominent family is part of community fiber, seemingly with everything. They owned a successful tennis academy for decades, and are well-known on the circuit. Four grown children are forging their own lives, and the parents appear to be the perfect couple. One day, the mom disappears, and naturally, suspicion falls on those closest to her, exposing chinks in their glimmering facade. As the police and the "kids" try to figure things out, memories are cast back to a prior acquaintance to the family, Savannah, who was in need of shelter when the empty nesters were eager to continue parenting. Could she know something they don't? Liane never disappoints, and although I'd say this book has a slightly different tone than others of hers I've read, it's still delicious in its twists and surprises along the way.

Quietly captivating, this story set in the 1950s tells about a bereaved Native American family and their individual attempts to cope with grief, as much as people were allowed to in days past. A father and daughter (Kit) live unassumingly in a rural setting, she, fishing to augment their food and he, working long weeks and carving little wooden huntsmen on Sundays. As a change to their workaday life, a pretty and kind lady moves into a cabin along Kit's fishing route, and they become friends. When a busybody blares misinformation about the nature of their friendship, a series of events is set into motion that seems impossible to undo. Kit's sagacity is front and center as she plans a reversal of her family's plight. Tense and with constant eyes to the blatant racism of the time, it was riveting to the end.