I recall telling someone once that if Fredrik Backman wrote a book about poop I would still read it. Well… I did! Sort of. I mean, one chapter was about poop. There was some stuff about IKEA, some stuff about the heartwarming world of the WWE, some super serious football talk, and a few other things, but there was definitely poop. And I loved every second of it.
This one is a bit different from his novels. He didn’t need to prove anything or wow anyone with his intellect. He’s imparting wisdom to the one who needs it the most: his child. In a ridiculously funny and self-deprecating style, he deftly illustrates why he’s so amazing. I don’t even mean as a writer or as a dad, but just as a human. He doesn’t take himself too seriously, but he proves that he understands living and loving are serious business. What strikes me the most about these separate essays and vignettes is that Backman can take the most ludicrous and nonsensical anecdotes and make them seem profound, which is often something I see him implement in his novels as well.
I identified the most with this little book (you can read it in one sitting) because I also have children. I also didn’t begin to like all children because I had children. I still find everyone else’s kids amazingly annoying (Really, Fredrik, I felt that HARD!) However, my own children opened up a capacity to love in me for which I previously didn’t think I was capable. And most of the time I feel like I don’t measure up. I’m not the cookie-cutter PTA mom that makes the perfect party favors for class parties which, I might add, she made a week in advance after ironing her child’s t-shirts for the next month of pre-planned days. I’m the one who forgot to send in the box of crackers, which was the one thing on the sign-up list I thought I could manage. So when Backman illustrates his insecurities with fatherhood in such a real-life way, I’m beginning to realize there are reasons I adore him beyond his writing ability. He’s one of my people: awkward, grumpy, highly competent at certain things and only marginally competent with others. I think we just became best friends.
In short, there’s nothing complex about this volume, but it certainly packs a powerful punch if you read between the lines of his humor to actually understand what he’s trying to say. There’s a lot of meaning, and I will also encourage my kids to read this one when they are old enough. Life is hard. Life is complicated. Sometimes it’s ok to sit back, take a breath, and find the humor in the everyday mundane aspects of life. And it never hurts to be able to reflect upon the ways in which we are actually infinitely lucky to have unconditional love and a sense of security when everything else feels like it’s falling apart.
Published May 7, 2019 by Atria Books. First published August 27, 2012. ISBN 9781501196867. Translated by Alice Menzies. Hardcover. 208 pages.
Julia Alvarez is widely considered an icon in the realm of literature, and when you get the pleasure of reading her prose, you completely understand why. Her words are effortless and timeless. Having just passed the age of 74, it’s no surprise that she would become reflective on the stories that she never told, the manuscripts that remain boxed and bundled, only having been digested by the hand that penned them. It’s a beautiful and wonderful question. What becomes of these stories? 
Postcards From the Edge is Carrie Fisher’s novel , published in 1987, that marks the first book in the Suzanne Vale series. She would later publish the sequel in 2004 that continued the saga of Vale’s struggles with addiction and mental health. Billed as semi biographical, I would argue it’s more biography than not. I feel like Fisher created Vale, a well-known actress whose struggles with addiction and spiraling mental health have had an impact on her career, as a way to safely explore her own struggles behind the protective barrier of poetic license. In truth, the whole book reads like a series of essays exploring the psyche of someone navigating the two worlds of fame and recovery. We see a bit of her experiences while in rehab and then her subsequent return to the “real world,” especially as she tries to match up the Suzanne she is now with the one everyone expects to see. 
I chose this book as my reading challenge pick for an Own Voices story. Jackson-Brown is a prolific writer in addition to teaching creative writing at not one, but two, universities. She’s a poet, playwright, and novelist with several highly-rated titles of historical fiction surrounding the American black experience during the Civil Rights era. 
First, let’s talk about the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee, or SNCC (their logo pictured here). Jackson-Brown sets this novel before a very real backdrop. SNCC was an organization made up of young, idealistic students founded in the 1960’s. It was inspired at first by the famed sit-ins at segregated lunch counters across the South. It was positively instrumental in gathering support and affecting change during the 1960’s. There’s a possibility you haven’t heard of SNCC before, but I’m sure you’ve heard of Congressman and Civil Rights icon, John Lewis, one of the original organizers of SNCC. He and Hosea Williams famously led a march across the Edmund Pettus Bridge in Selma, Alabama, on what would later be deemed “Bloody Sunday,” on March 7, 1965. Unlike many other attacks by white authorities on peaceful protestors, this march was widely reported, and videos and images of the atrocity helped to finally turn the eyes of all Americans to the injustices. Public opinion finally turned to the right side of history. On August 6, 1965, President Johnson would sign the Voting Rights Act into law. Why am I telling you all this? SNCC was a big freaking deal.
Happily married newlyweds Kate and Tommy Puglisi are thrilled to arrive at the doorstep of their very old but new-to-them house in Becchina, one of many little towns across the Italian landscape on the brink of becoming ghost towns. In an effort to attract young enterprising people like them, the town’s mayor has opened up abandoned homes to newcomers for the too good to be true price of a single euro and the promise to revitalize the home. Upon arriving, the couple expects to be welcomed with open arms by Tommy’s grandparents, long-time residents of the town. Unfortunately, they find that Tommy’s grandmother is angry and fearful of their new home. At first perplexed, the couple soon finds out why the townsfolk all whisper behind closed doors about the house of last resort, a house that contains a very dark history that isn’t quite as buried as it previously seemed.
You may be wondering if I read this book right as the film is coming out for a reason, but I am unfortunately not that well put together. I honestly had no idea there was a movie. I stumbled across the audiobook on Hoopla and thought it looked promising, and the rest is history. In hindsight, I’m sure they were featuring the audiobook in anticipation of the film, so their ploy worked on this out-of-the-loop reader. 
Honestly, my productivity lately has been just pure trash. This time, however, I think I got myself hung up on this particular book review. I’d start it, delete, and then close my page. I couldn’t quite figure out how to put into words what I wanted to say. Truthfully, this book’s brilliance is something a reader has to experience for themselves in order to understand it. It’s a character study of one of the most perfectly imperfect people, and the perfection is in the finest little details.
I was first introduced to Joanna Brady, a Key West-based author of historical fiction, several years ago when my book club won copies of her first novel, 
Every now and then you come across a book that’s exactly what you needed at exactly the right time. A palate cleanser, of sorts that pulls you out of the funk of reading some deep and depressing stuff. Nosy Neighbors is one such book. It’s refreshing, heartfelt, and makes you believe that at least some sector of humanity is worth saving.
A Librarian and Her Books 