Whether you like reading paperbacks or hardcovers, listening to audiobooks, or using Kindles, tablets, or phones, a very good book is at all times a completely happy find. Whatever your selected medium, we’ve you covered with our year-end recommendations from Tufts faculty, staff, students, and alumni.
This winter, the alternatives are wide-ranging, with fiction including thrillers, classics, sci-fi, magical realism, literary fiction, spy novels, and more. In nonfiction, the range is wide, too: a history of 9/11, memoirs (including a graphic memoir), American history, a French cookbook, books about love, and The Book of Hope, something we could all use.
We also have a surprising pairing—a review of Ruth Ozeki’s recent novel The Book of Form and Emptiness and a review of Painting Enlightenment: Healing Visions of the Heart Sutra, the Mahayana Buddhist sutra being centrally concerned with, you guess it, form and emptiness.
You should definitely also take a look at the recommendations from a energetic group of Tufts authors—faculty and alumni—in our Bookish series, as they chat about their very own books, those they’re reading, and those they keep going back to.
Dive in and revel in. And for faculty, staff, and students, don’t forget that a lot of these books can be found on the Tufts libraries.
If you will have book recommendations so as to add to the list, write to us at now@tufts.edu, and we’ll post an update.
FICTION
Anxious People, by Fredrick Backman. A bunch of strangers attend an open house after they find themselves in a hostage situation. One after the other, we’re let into the lives of all and sundry, learning about their inner worlds—some so unlikeable you start to root for the criminal. As police surround the constructing and tensions run high, the stories of the hostages turn heartbreaking. What first appears to be lighthearted tale had me in tears toward the tip—and there’s an unforgettable twist. This novel asks us to steer with compassion and switch toward each other in times of doubt. Reading anything by Fredrick Backman is like catching up with an old friend at your favorite coffee shop. There’s something so comforting and familiar in his prose and freeing in his artful examination of human nature. He’s a master storyteller and I highly recommend any of his books. A lot of his novels coincide or overlap with each other, so there may be an incredible sense of community and knowing between the characters and readers. —Shanley Daly, events coordinator, Tisch College of Civic Life
The Book of Form and Emptiness, by Ruth Ozeki. Having a book be a personality in its own book is a bit of meta, but that appears to be exactly a part of the purpose on this 2021 novel. And perhaps it’s not a surprise, really, because along with being a talented novelist (her 2013 A Tale for the Time Being was a finalist for the Booker Prize), Ozeki can be a Zen Buddhist priest. She’s also a filmmaker, which could help to elucidate the incredibly wealthy visual images she paints in words. The book, after all, shouldn’t be the one character on this novel. There’s Kenji Oh, a jazz clarinetist and drug addict who dies in a humiliating accident before the story begins. He stays very much a component of the story, though, mourned and recounted by his wife, Annabelle, whose way of dealing together with her grief is to hoard snow globes, craft projects from Michael’s, and newspaper clippings to such an extent that they threaten to overtake the Oh home and get them evicted. Kenji and Annabelle’s only child, Benny, a sensitive boy on the cusp of adolescence, cannot deal together with his father’s death and his mother’s descent into consumerist chaos; he starts hearing the voices of the inanimate things that pile up throughout him. Their collective voices are actually shouting in his ears, making Benny—and everybody else in his life—wonder and worry about his sanity. Benny’s journeys through a psychiatric hospital, highschool, and the curiosities that may or may not be his own mind, lead him to come back into contact with a bunch of memorable characters: “The Aleph,” a rather older teen who’s each a conceptual artist and a dumpster diver with whom Benny falls hopelessly in love; the Bottleman, an elderly man with no clear home who collects and dispenses bottles and is definitely probably the most famous Slovenian poet; the library with its own host of clearly and bizarrely drawn denizens; and after all, the book itself, which alternates between speaking on to Benny and to us, the audience. The Book of Form and Emptiness is an incredibly creative and fascinating novel. It’s an prolonged parable about our collective love/hate relationship with consumerism and in addition magical realist fiction that usually feels a bit surreal. Its poetic prose brings objects to life and endows animals with sagacity. It humbles us with the knowledge that there are things on this life we simply cannot truly understand. And, after all, there’s the book that infuses this book with a voice and lifetime of its own. It is a 546-page read that can fly by, similar to the avian seers throughout the novel. —Julie Dobrow, director, Center for Interdisciplinary Studies; senior lecturer, Eliot-Pearson Department of Child Study and Human Development
The Book of Goose, by Yiyun Li. Best friends Agnès and Fabienne live in their very own little world within the small French village of Saint Rémy within the Fifties. Fabienne is actually feral, her mother dead, her father and brother drunks. She doesn’t go to high school—she’s outdoors minding livestock, but she’s clever. Agnès narrates the novel we’re reading from a distance in time, recalling how Fabienne dictated series of macabre stories to her (she had significantly better handwriting), after which showed them to the local postal clerk, a tragic old man who saw the merit of the stories and pitched them to a Parisian book publisher. Fabienne decides that only Agnès ought to be the creator, and suddenly the less articulate Agnès is thrust within the limelight, becoming a star creator not only in France but abroad, too, as a naif genius. It’s the last word imposter syndrome, except it also isn’t: Agnès is writing the book we at the moment are reading. There are numerous layers of meaning here, concerning the roles we play, who we’re with others, what we are supposed to do. Likewise, there are countless ironies. Early on we learn that Fabienne has died in childbirth in her late 20s, while the book she dictated contained many stories of kids dying young. The Book of Goose is a fast-moving tale—I read it in only just a few days—however it lingered in my mind long after. —Taylor McNeil, senior news and audience engagement editor, University Communications and Marketing
Desert Star, by Michael Connelly. That is the most recent Bosch story about solving cold cases using DNA testing and other technology not available on the time of the particular murders. For a few of the cases Bosch is working on, each ones assigned to him and ones he’s haunted by, there isn’t a simple answer but to maintain investigating. On this compelling, highly engaging story, there may be not one of the romance that Bosch had in other books, but there may be a mini-botany lesson. There’s also a fascinating subtext of the impact of the COVID-19 pandemic. The daddy of one in every of the murdered women died of COVID. To gather DNA, Bosch uses a face mask to disguise himself as he pretends to bus a table to gather a suspect’s coffee cup. On the one hand, these references were subtle and plausible, and the mask as a disguise was quite clever. On the opposite, I read for entertainment and a part of me desires to immerse myself on this world of crime and detection and forget concerning the pandemic together with grading, course prep, and the remainder of reality. While I thoroughly enjoyed and highly recommend the book, I’m wondering to what extent our day by day reality can’t be escaped even when engaged in an escapist activity. —Lisa Gualtieri, associate professor, Department of Public Health and Community Medicine
Don’t Cry for Me, by Daniel Black. This novel is guaranteed to interrupt your heart. It consists of a series of letters from a father, Jacob Swinton, to his son Isaac when confronted together with his own mortality. In recounting his life experiences as a Black man raised within the Jim Crow South, Jacob explains all of the ways wherein Isaac, who’s gay, fell short in Jacob’s view of what makes a person. Jacob violently rejects the concept that a person can love one other man. But from across the chasm that separates them, as death nears, Jacob reckons with the varied forms that love can take. Though the creator’s note makes clear—from the start, no spoilers here—that there shall be no bridging the gap between them ultimately, the result’s directly a desperate plea for understanding and a compelling love letter from a father to his son. That is one of the best LGBTQ+ family story from the parent’s viewpoint I actually have read since Robb Foreman Dew’s The Family Heart. —Dave Nuscher, executive director, content and planning, University Communications and Marketing
The Hero of This Book, by Elizabeth McCracken. How will we remember those we love who’ve passed? In McCracken’s case, it’s by writing. This novel, framed as a memoir revolving round her recently deceased mother and a visit to London that brings back memories of being there together with her, is a lesson in the chances and impossibilities of knowing one other person. There’s more truth—more memoir—than fiction here, and I do know, because McCracken’s mother was my boss and friend for greater than 20 years. She was truly remarkable. Well under five feet tall, walking with canes more often than not I knew her, and riding a motorized scooter in her later years, she was in actual fact indomitable. She used to say that “bodies are such a trouble,” and hers was for her, but there was no challenge she backed away from, physical or otherwise. She had, as McCracken says, “weapons grade self esteem” and was immensely kind and smart. We see McCracken’s mother as a daughter, sister, wife, theater Ph.D., mother, boss—and we meet a fictionalized but in addition quite real McCracken, daughter and teacher, together with her own strong views on life, just as her mother had. In an age of bloated books, there’s not a wasted word on this slender volume, which left me recalling many memories of my very own, and can leave you, who shall be meeting Natalie McCracken for the primary time, marveling on the character she was. —Taylor McNeil, senior news and audience engagement editor, University Communications and Marketing
The Higher Power of Lucky, by Susan Patron. Back within the day, my Tufts children’s literature professor told us that “the sign of a very good book is that it’s enjoyable in any respect ages.” That statement of fact has at all times remained with me. Should you are in search of a heartwarming family read, why not come along and join the journey of 10-year-old Lucky and her faithful dog as they navigate life and meaning within the distant desert of Hard Pan, California? Lucky lives together with her guardian Brigitte, as her mom and pa are out of the image. Will Lucky ever find the right mom? And might she be the right daughter? You’ll need to read her story to search out out. The Higher Power of Lucky received the Newbery Medal, which is awarded annually for probably the most distinguished contribution to American literature for youngsters, in 2007. And when you are still on the fence after reading this transient review, know that P.D. Eastman’s classic book Are You My Mother? is an element of Lucky’s story too. —David Bragg, senior IT client support specialist, Tufts Technology Services
Horse, by Geraldine Brooks. Rarely have I discovered an creator who can develop characters so fully and authentically as Brooks, who’s masterful within the historical fiction genre. I often wish to flip to the creator’s notes before I’m done to search out out which parts are historically accurate and after I do, I’m amazed to learn how much actually occurred and the way she weaves them into her story. Horse is totally fascinating from starting to finish. The story, which centers on a thoroughbred racehorse from the 1850s named Lexington, is told from the viewpoints of 4 different narrators who span greater than 150 years. The primary narrator is Jarrett, Lexington’s groom, from whom we find out about Lexington’s racing days and the trials of enslaved Black people during that point and the early years after emancipation. This theme is further explored via one other narrator, together with a concentrate on the importance of art as a historical record. I tore through this book the primary time, and am now planning to read it again at a more leisurely pace and look ahead to savoring Brooks’ incredible mixing of the storylines between narrators as she moves the major story along. —Maria Conroy, associate director of stewardship and donor relations, University Advancement
How To not Drown in a Glass of Water, by Angie Cruz. I used to be unable to stop reading this fabulous recent book by the Dominican-American Angie Cruz. The book is structurally organized in 12 sections, each reflecting the 12 sessions of the senior workforce program that the protagonist Cara Romero participates in as she seeks employment, which may also extend her unemployment advantages for 12 more weeks. I used to be captured by the structure of the novel and mesmerized by Angie Cruz’s use of language. Like other contemporary Latine writers, Angie Cruz blends Spanish and English, but takes this further by mirroring, in English, the structure of the Spanish language which Cara uses. Actually, the title of the book refers to a typical Spanish phrase, “no te ahogues en un vaso de agua.” The novel is good, sad, and funny, and you’ll find yourself loving Cara and her life in Washington Heights. It’s a young reminder of the challenges immigrants face, as well of their tenacity and resilience. — Bárbara M. Brizuela, dean, Graduate School of Arts & Sciences, professor of education
Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell, by Susanna Clarke. At its heart, Susanna Clarke’s novel is concerning the relationship between the title characters: Gilbert Norrell, a dour aristocrat, and the younger, flashier Jonathan Strange, two men with nothing in common but the very fact they’re the one two magicians in England. Clarke is an creator of many and varied interests, and her masterpiece—set in an alternate Nineteenth-century England where magic, once very real, has faded from the world—takes its time exploring a world’s price of characters, themes, and concepts. Its 800 pages contain a magical version of the Napoleonic wars; a society wife and her husband’s Black butler under the sway of a dangerous fairy; a magician with a manuscript tattooed on his skin; and a mythological figure known only because the Raven King. Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell is an element Austenian comedy of manners, part study of the complex relationship between its prickly leads, and part Arthurian fantasy. Clarke’s evocative, often hilarious prose will draw you in; her beautifully drawn characters and detailed world constructing will keep you hooked until the myriad plot threads draw together in a virtuosic climax. If you need to spend this winter immersed in magic, wonder, danger, and a few of one of the best one-liners in literature, pick up Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell. And, whatever you do, don’t skip the footnotes. —Alex Israel, event planner and marketing specialist, Graduate School of Biomedical Sciences
Let the Great World Spin, by Colum McCann. Whenever you begin this book, it first appears as if you’re reading a series of engaging but disparate short stories, set in several countries and inhabited by unrelated characters. Nevertheless, because the text unfolds, it becomes apparent that what gave the impression to be separate tales are related, albeit by tenuous threads. Introduced and eventually intermingled are characters representing a large swath of humanity, all grappling with similar life crises. Ultimately, as time moves on and events play out, the threads that bind the tales shorten, causing the people and stories to converge across generations. —Alice H. Lichtenstein, Gershoff Professor of Nutrition Science and Policy, Freidman School; director and senior scientist, Cardiovascular Nutrition Laboratory, Jean Mayer USDA Human Nutrition Research Center on Aging at Tufts
Maggie Cassidy, by Jack Kerouac. Tucked in amongst my dad’s collection of Jack Kerouac novels, Maggie Cassidy called out to me from the bookshelf one night early within the quarantine—I had routinely neglected it before. The Dharma Bums was the primary in Kerouac’s catalogue I actually grew to like, due to my dad who encountered an excerpt from it in a university English lit class and years later instituted a family tradition of reading it aloud every Christmas Eve. Maggie Cassidy focuses on Kerouac’s modest beginnings in the previous mill town of Lowell, Massachusetts, and portrays his relationship with real-life highschool sweetheart, Mary Carney. Their tumultuous teenage romance radiates warmth and a brooding tenderness. Unlike a lot of Kerouac’s female characters in his other works, who’re frustratingly limited and objectified (a significant drawback of On the Road, despite its cult status and powerful lure of discovering America), Maggie is profoundly whole. She speaks her mind with great spirit and keenness while grappling with love’s complexities. The story can be a poignant ode to the town where Kerouac grew up, especially its historically French-Canadian neighborhoods, which my dad, of French-Canadian descent himself, and I discovered this fall during a guided tour of Kerouac’s Lowell. Kerouac lovingly depicts his Québécois immigrant parents as hard-working and exuberant souls, if not also wearied by life’s many troubles. We see “Ti Jean” as a young, athletic high schooler struggling to rise up at dawn within the freezing Latest England winter, then making his way through the bustling halls of Lowell High, palling around with raucous friends and finding sweet little notes from Maggie in school, and eventually trudging back home through the snowy streets after track practice. Here’s a refreshing version of Jack in contrast to his drunkenly manic incarnations within the later California novels. As this 12 months marks the a centesimal anniversary of Kerouac’s birth in an easy duplex in Lowell, Maggie Cassidy, a poetic and moving hometown tribute, is a fitting read. —Julia Keith, program coordinator, International Center
My Monticello, by Jocelyn Nicole Johnson. Consisting of a novella and five short stories, Jocelyn Nicole Johnson’s remarkable debut work of fiction explores issue of race and gender in America. Startlingly clear-eyed, somewhat dystopian, and at all times sharply drawn, Johnson’s characters find themselves in situations which might be ripped from the plethora of disturbing headlines that mark contemporary life. The 2 most riveting pieces of this book for me were the short story “Control Negro” and the title novella. “Control Negro” is a dark satire a few professor at a university in Virginia who wishes to raised understand the extent to which race and racism matter. The Black professor fathers a toddler whom he supports and observes from a distance throughout his childhood and adolescence. He gives his “control negro” all of the benefits he never had. But ultimately, we learn that each father and son are victims of a racist culture in other ways. Without making a gift of the ending of this story, let me just say that the echoes of George Floyd and so many others ring very loudly and really true. “My Monticello” is ready in a dystopian future that feels just a bit of too near our present. Out-of-control wildfires, extreme temperatures, and extremists protesting after an apocalyptic election set the stage for the rise of the white supremacists who take over Charlottesville, Virginia, setting fire to homes, hunting down Black and Brown people and anyone related to them, and shouting racist slogans as they blast “The Star Spangled Banner” from their automobile and truck radios. The protagonist, Da’Naisha Hemings Love, a descendant of Sally Hemings and a UVA student who’d interned at Monticello, flees her home along together with her white boyfriend, her grandmother, and a number of other neighbors. They take refuge at Monticello, which has been shuttered and abandoned amidst the local chaos. They forge a small collective community, raiding the gift shop for food and clothing, turning Jefferson’s home and estate into an escapist haven. Johnson imbues her plots and characters with irony upon irony. All of them work. Having a few of Sally Hemings’ descendants take refuge from white supremacists in the home their ancestors were forced to construct, and the collision of climate change and racialized injustices that lead to the burning of Charlottesville are powerful images. And the hypocrisies of the Jeffersonian promise of justice and freedom for all seem all of the more pointed because the refugees at Monticello attempt to determine how they’ll free themselves from the rancor and chaos that such “freedoms” have wrought. —Julie Dobrow, director, Center for Interdisciplinary Studies; senior lecturer, Eliot-Pearson Department of Child Study and Human Development
The Ones We Burn, by Rebecca Mix. A Latest York Times bestselling young adult fantasy debut, The Ones We Burn follows Ranka, a bloodwitch from the north whose coven has a treaty with the human kingdom Isodal, forcing her to change into betrothed to their prince. When she rejects her duty and her friend Yeva is taken in her place, Ranka’s coven convinces her to journey to Isodal and complete two tasks: rescue Yeva and assassinate the human prince. But when she arrives, she finds the prince shouldn’t be what he expected—Galen is kind, a boy who, like her, has been forced to grow up too fast and who doesn’t wish to marry Ranka or rule in any respect. And his sister, the hauntingly beautiful Princess Aramis, doesn’t immediately trust Ranka. But when witches begin succumbing to a mysterious plague, Ranka begins working with the royals to develop a cure in exchange for Aramis’ help to grasp her terrifying magic. Because the day she’s speculated to kill Galen nears, Ranka finds herself questioning what she thought she knew about herself, her past, and what she truly wants—especially as she falls for Aramis, who shows her that for the primary time, she will be greater than the monster she was raised to be. The Ones We Burn is a wealthy, high-octane ride from start to complete, but at its heart it’s a book for abuse survivors about hope, forgiveness, and the messy but rewarding technique of healing. Ranka’s story is a testament that it’s never too late. —Layla Noor Landrum, A24
Project Hail Mary, by Andy Weir. This book, like its creator, appears to be in a category of its own. Should you read Weir’s The Martian, or saw the movie, you understand his ability to mix real science, science fiction, humor, and adventure. The story was fun, fascinating, and really got me invested in the ultimate final result. Ryland Grace is on a final likelihood Hail Mary mission to possibly save humanity. As his adventure starts, though, he shouldn’t be aware of those consequences. On their own, hundreds of thousands of miles away in space, he investigates his ship, deceased crew mates, and his slowly returning fuzzy memory, to do that on his own. Perhaps, though, he’ll get some help. Should you enjoy a very good adventure with a lot of science mixed in (think Michael Crichton), with a dose of humor and heart, this is unquestionably the book for you. —Josh Cooper, associate dean of student services, public health and skilled degree programs, School of Medicine
Real Bad Things, by Kelly J. Ford. In Real Bad Things, Jane Mooney returns to the agricultural town of Maud Bottoms, Arkansas, 25 years after confessing to the murder of her stepfather; she was never prosecuted for the crime, as his body wasn’t found. After years of waiting for the opposite shoe to drop, she gets the news that police have found a body in any case, and it’s time to face the music: not only the prospect of being arrested, but reuniting together with her mother (who’s hellbent on revenge), an old lover, a sibling, and friendships wrecked within the aftermath of the fateful night of the murder. Ford is sneaky as she spools out the mystery (did Jane actually do it, or was it one in every of any variety of others?) but in addition at plunging us right into a setting rife with poverty and violence. As someone who grew up poor and had some rough characters within the family, I discovered the world-building spot on and the characterizations horrifyingly on the cash. And I loved that each time I assumed I knew where the book desired to take me, I used to be unsuitable. No surprise that Publisher’s Weekly called it “gripping” and said that “Ford delivers the products.” —David Valdes, lecturer, Department of English
The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo, by Taylor Jenkins Reid. This novel a fun and surprisingly emotional (in a very good way) read that I couldn’t put down. Monique Grant is a young journalist attempting to make a reputation for herself and jumpstart her somewhat stagnated profession, all while also navigating a recent separation from her husband. But when she is specifically chosen to interview the famous and reclusive Hollywood icon Evelyn Hugo, Monique’s big break seems to have fallen into her lap—but why her? Evelyn has no reason to know Monique’s name, let alone request that she write a tell-all article about her life relatively than giving the task to more established journalists who’ve been chasing for many years. Monique proceeds to Evelyn’s swanky Latest York City apartment with the cautious optimism that this shall be moment to show her life and profession around. Because the reader learns more about Evelyn’s life through Monique’s interviews, you’re torn between feeling uncomfortable by the movie star’s unflinching ambition and offended on the cultural and societal pressures that necessitated that ambition obligatory for Evelyn’s survival. The more you find out about Evelyn’s life, the more you appreciate that nothing is black and white and that one of the best parts of all stories are the complexities that defy labels. Nothing is because it seems—including why Evelyn sought out Monique in the primary place. This book will make you concentrate on every type of affection and relationships, our very definition of marriage, and the importance of with the ability to tell our own stories. And a bonus: it’s currently in production to change into a Netflix movie. —Jess Byrnes, A12, program manager, Tisch College
The Spy Who Got here In from the Cold, by John Le Carré. Whether you’re picking it up for the primary time or rereading it years later, John Le Carré’s The Spy Who Got here In from the Cold intrigues and impresses. Its fame is justified if for no other reason than its establishment of the archetype for all subsequent spy fiction. Le Carré enshrines two essential elements of that genre: an endlessly twisting plot and a jaded, shop-soiled skilled fighting for ideals he can scarcely bring himself to consider in. The plot worms its way into the deepest levels of intrigue within the East German secret police (and within the British secret service), and if Le Carré’s hero, Alex Leamas, has, as one might expect, a heart of gold, it’s buried under so many layers of anger and cynicism as to be barely detectable. Remarkably, the book remained as fresh because it did 40 years ago after I first read it. And as we enter our recent Cold War, it guarantees, alas, to look brisker still. — Kevin Dunn, vice provost for faculty
Still Life, by Sarah Winman. For the previous couple of years—with the pandemic, political turmoil, and the systematic marginalization of individuals on the idea of their race, country of origin, gender identity, sexual orientation, and non secular beliefs—I actually have gravitated to dark books, apocalyptic and post-apocalyptic fiction, science fiction, horror. Numerous horror. One way or the other, those varieties of books gave me hope that within the darkest of times, good people fighting for what is true. Sarah Winman’s glorious book Still Life is the other of dark. Still, it added to my hope—hope in the flexibility to get well from trauma, in the facility of chosen family, in the flexibility of even odd people to make the world a greater place in small ways. Winman writes in easy, straightforward sentences of such elegance and wonder, and the prose is at all times in service of her characters, who’re fully realized, three-dimensional, and complex humans within the aftermath of World War II England and Florence. These characters are people you expect to fulfill the following time you’re on the pub or taking your child to the park. Still Life is one in every of those books that rearranged my mental furniture, changing the way in which I see the world, and it jogged my memory of the enjoyment of humanity. —Amy Gantt, director of research development, Office of the Vice Provost for Research
NONFICTION
All About Love: Latest Visions, by bell hooks. This book is a meditation on freedom, interdependence, and social change. I find myself returning to it since it serves as a reminder that to practice love is to practice a selected ethics of strong care and understanding concerning the world that illuminates the chances of turning against the violent structures and habits that govern society. Love, for hooks, doesn’t concern merely romanticism, pleasantries, or sentimentalism, but relatively endeavors to humanize and make vulnerable the interstitial lives we lead. As a substitute of counting on the established matrices of power to guide our efforts of social justice, a practice of affection requires an lively engagement with who we’re and the way we would like to be, including what we all know and what we have no idea. Loving deliberately is difficult since it demands of us an inquiry of our state of reality and of our relationships, and critiquing social conditions to comprehend a world where all can flourish. —Anthony Cruz Pantojas, Humanist Chaplain
All of the Frequent Troubles of Our Days: The True Story of the American Woman on the Heart of the German Resistance to Hitler, by Rebecca Donner. All of the Frequent Troubles of Our Days follows the publishing trend of books resurrecting the historically ignored accomplishments of ladies: on this case, Mildred Harnack, of Wisconsin, who moves to Berlin together with her German husband in the times of the Weimar Republic, and finally ends up a pacesetter within the resistance to Hitler. She also finally ends up, after she and her husband are caught, because the only American woman executed by Hitler throughout the war (this shouldn’t be a spoiler: it’s spelled out quite clearly in the primary pages of the book). Her story is solely remarkable, as world events intersect with the lifetime of a seemingly odd one who progressively becomes surrounded by evil and is in a position to see it for what it’s. There are some sections that drag, because the creator, a descendant of Harnack’s, includes far an excessive amount of about Harnack’s acquaintances in Berlin (really, just skip the entire part about Thomas Wolfe). However the examination of Harnack’s inner life, and the spy-thriller details of her underground work are too good to miss. —Helene Ragovin, senior content creator/editor, University Communications and Marketing
Around My French Table, by Dorie Greenspan. Cookbook reviews are hard to trust, so relatively than buy solely on the opinions of others, I are inclined to pick up the cuisine-packed books on the library, peruse recipes and the stories behind them, and in the event that they seem worthy, I’ll even give a recipe a shot. As a rule, I return the heavy tomes to the library, and never revisit them. And really rarely do I purchase a cookbook without first searching through it. On a sporadic trip to a thrift store, I made an exception for James Beard award-winning cookbook creator Dorie Greenspan’s Around My French Table after I found a duplicate for a whopping two bucks. I knew of Greenspan’s acclaim and was a subscriber to her newsletter, but had yet to peruse any of her books. So I spent just a few minutes leafing through it in the shop, and was immediately drawn to her approachable tackle classic French cuisine, the anecdotes attached to the delicious food she selected to share, and after all, the so-good-you-can-almost-smell-it photography. It was obvious why Julie Child, my personal idol, said Greenspan wrote her recipes similar to she did. Up to now, the recipes I’ve tried include an easy but sumptuous apple cake, and a time-consuming but rewarding boeuf à la mode (pot roast) that required an overnight marinade and a number of attention (perfect for a weekend activity). All the things has been successful and I’m looking forward to a cool winter—and funky kitchen—in order that I can dig into as many stories and recipes of Greenspan’s French Table as possible. —Emily Wright Brognano, senior content creator/editor, University Communications and Marketing
The Book of Hope: A Survival Guide for Trying Times, by Jane Goodall and Douglas Abrams. When people ask me what I need to be after I grow up (and no I don’t consider myself a grown up yet), I often say that I need to be Jane Goodall. That’s mostly so I could hang around with chimps all day, but in addition to interrupt barriers for ladies, empower underserved children all over the world, and leave an everlasting impact on the conservation of so many species. In The Book of Hope, we glimpse an intimate view of Goodall that makes the reader feel that they’re a 3rd friend within the room, having fun with tea with Jane and the interviewer. Guided by a series of open-ended questions like “What is actually different now than before, different enough to present us hope for change?”, she reveals her reasons for maintaining hope for people and the planet. She discusses the capability of human intellect, the resilience of nature, the facility of youth, the indomitable human spirit. Goodall pulls stories from her own work, like a community youth program that builds the inspiration of environmental stewardship through community gardening. Amidst the backdrop of COVID and climate change, she reminds us to search for the small things, the quieter headlines, and the million ways that folks day-after-day are working together against seemly inevitable disasters. For me, reading this in pieces just a few nights every week provided transient moments of reflection and perspective in an often-tumultuous news cycle. —Jennifer Reilly, communications specialist, Office of Sustainability
Dapper Dan: Made in Harlem: A Memoir, by Daniel R. Day. Higher often called Dapper Dan, Daniel Day is a reputation synonymous with luxury streetwear and hip-hop culture, having created custom clothing for musicians, athletes, and gangsters alike out of his Harlem tailor shop throughout the Eighties and Nineteen Nineties, ascending to near-mythical status as a mode tastemaker and cultural icon. His unique pieces incorporated designs from distinguished luxury brands like Gucci, Fendi, and Louis Vuitton, leading to countless lawsuits and raids on his operation over time. Nevertheless, a newer formal collaboration with Gucci, after claims that they plagiarized one in every of his original designs, has reintroduced him to a recent generation of fans, reinvigorated his brand, and provided a recent platform to specific his stylistic vision. Made in Harlem: A Memoir was an absolute page-turner, full of colourful anecdotes of Dan’s life and profession, his triumphs and tragedies, and the perseverance and ingenuity it took to evolve and reinvent himself, no matter how dire the circumstance. Nuggets of life wisdom gleaned from Dan’s past are sprinkled throughout, and anyone who enjoys stories of self-made individuals shall be delighted by this read. —Stephen Barber, associate director of development, University Advancement
Fall and Rise: The Story of 9/11, by Mitchell Zuckoff. There are, after all, hundreds of stories of 9/11, from the doomed passengers and crew on the planes; the people within the World Trade Center and the Pentagon; the first-responders; and all their family members, only for starters. In Fall and Rise, Zuckoff, a master of the art of narrative nonfiction, tells several dozen of those stories, weaving them together almost seamlessly and yet preserving the distinct personalities and humanity of all his subjects, each those that survived, and particularly those that perished. There are several 9/11 books on the market whose retellings overlap with Zuckoff’s, particularly Jim Dwyer and Kevin Flynn’s 102 Minutes and Garrett Graff’s The Only Plane within the Sky—and, after all, readers of Fall and Rise will know the broad, terrible outlines of that day in September, even in the event that they’re not sufficiently old to recollect it. Zuckoff’s luminescent, careful, detail-sprinkled prose makes his version well-worth experiencing. It could be dishonest for any 9/11 book to have an “uplifting” ending: however the sensible storytelling of Fall and Rise leaves you grateful for the lives that were spared; awed by the various instances of extraordinary bravery; and aching for many who were lost. —Helene Ragovin, senior content creator/editor, University Communications and Marketing
The Five Love Languages, by Gary Chapman. Think this book is nearly romantic relationships? Re-evaluate. Think you simply must read/hearken to it once and be done with it? Not necessarily. Yes, this book does concentrate on “find out how to express heartfelt commitment to your mate,” however it goes beyond that. Chapman outlines what he calls five love languages, that are 1) words of affirmation (compliments), 2) quality time, 3) receiving gifts, 4) acts of service, and 5) physical touch. I revisited this book after reading it a few years ago, not because I had any issues with my love relationship, but simply to learn more about others around me (particularly, my son and his soon to be wife). I share it with you because I feel this book is more about relationships on the whole and what motivates people. Should you take into consideration people you’re employed with, when you understand what motivates them after which approach them on their level, the connection goes much smoother. For instance, an individual whose love language is “words of affirmation” might thrive in an environment where they receive a number of verbal praise. And for somebody who’s motivated by “quality time,” they may need more one-on-one time or to be taken to lunch. Possibly physical touch is a stretch for a piece relationship, but I can see how the others, when checked out as motivational drivers, can impact all relationships. Should you want practical advice on relationships, take a look at this book—you won’t regret it. —Christine Fitzgerald, manager of promoting and communications, Tufts Technology Services
The High Desert: Black. Punk. Nowhere., by James Spooner. This powerful graphic memoir tells Spooner’s story of his early teenage years, attempting to determine his place on the earth. His mother is white, his father Black—and after moving steadily together with his mother, he had landed back in Apple Valley, California, within the desert country east of LA for the beginning of highschool within the early Nineteen Nineties. He’d last been there in fifth grade, but knows nobody now. An outsider, he makes friends with the confident Ty, one in every of the few Black kids in the college, and shortly adopts a punk persona like Ty—skateboard, flannel, music, and all. He hangs out with other outsider kids, has run-ins with skinheads, and tries to navigate the complexities of highschool. Spooner is brutally honest about his recent friends, all suffering in their very own ways, and about his alienation from his mom, who’s trying her best, but is unable to essentially understand her son’s life. The emotional honesty here is raw, the hazards very real, the story compelling. It does end on a hopeful note: punk becomes Spooner’s identity and ethos—and salvation. —Taylor McNeil, senior news and audience engagement editor, University Communications and Marketing
Within the Dream House, by Carmen Maria Machado. You may remember Machado’s debut short story collection, Her Body and Other Parties. It was the cool, weird one which subtly gaslit you as you pieced together its many fragments into one horrifying, hypnotic whole, which haunted you for days—and in addition left you pondering deeply and seeing more clearly. Within the Dream House does much the identical thing, but as a substitute of our society’s and media’s treatment of ladies (the main target of Her Body), the topic is a toxic relationship from Machado’s own life. Over the course of those micro-essays, a lot of that are just just a few paragraphs (and a few not more than just a few lines), Machado whirls us through her initial infatuation with the magical, charismatic Woman within the Dream House—after which pulls us down a rabbit hole, wherein her world, her work, and her very reality and identity are thrown into disarray. It’s disturbing and bizarre to observe love progressively warp into confusion, shame, and terror, and it can be painfully familiar to anyone who has experienced psychological abuse in an intimate relationship. The Dream Home is an apt and striking metaphor, with its tilted floors, mismatching furniture, and looming, claustrophobic maze of unpacked boxes. But Machado’s lucid prose illuminates the dark with flashes of beauty and insight, grounding us in the center of her nightmare as witnesses and companions. And it’s price it for the twist at the tip, which even after Machado’s harrowing journey will make you think in fate—and love—once more. —Monica Jimenez, senior content creator/editor, University Communications and Marketing
Last Call on the Hotel Imperial: The Reporters Who Took on a World at War, by Deborah Cohen. With a narrative that reads more like a novel than history, Cohen introduces us to a special world—the Nineteen Twenties and 30s, almost a full century ago, and yet with an immediacy that makes the story feel surprisingly current, following the lives and exploits of 4 American reporters who change into media stars at a time when politics and nations are fracturing. The three men and one woman whom Cohen recounts rise to distinguished roles within the media landscape as they report on the conflicts that burgeon into World War II. She tells the story of America’s rise to power, the lure of Communism, the danger of fascism, and above all the facility of nationalistic populism in Europe. She has delved deep into the archives to inform the parallel story of the lads and girls who’re writing this primary version of history—their weaknesses, desires, hopes, and sometimes crushing losses. Psychoanalysis is the brand new hip thing, and we listen in as our reporters and the objects of their desire speak about their inner lives, realizing yet again there’s nothing recent under the sun. Cohen expertly weaves the tales of labor lives and private lives into one tapestry, because the world hurtles toward total war. That is history accurately written, never lower than fascinating. —Taylor McNeil, senior news and audience engagement editor, University Communications and Marketing
Maria Baldwin’s Worlds: A Story of Black Latest England and the Fight for Racial Justice, by Kathleen Weiler. Chances are high that you will have never of heard of Maria Baldwin. Born in 1856 in Cambridge, Massachusetts, she was the primary Black person appointed principal of an integrated school in Latest England, the Agassiz Elementary School in Cambridge, in 1889. To say Baldwin’s appointment was a remarkable feat is putting it mildly. At a time when discrimination and violence against the Black community was rampant and few Black women held positions of authority, Baldwin can have been the one Black woman to move a completely white staff and an almost entirely white middle-class school within the nation. The complexity and gravity of her life, navigating and exceling in a leadership role in a white community while also working to advance civil rights amongst Black Americans, are beautifully captured on this biography by Kathleen Weiler, a Tufts professor emerita of education. Along with Baldwin’s work on the Agassiz School, where she was a master educator, incorporating such modern approaches in her classrooms as social-emotional learning techniques and a parent/teacher group, Baldwin also coordinated a literary group featuring civil rights activists W.E.B. Du Bois and William Monroe Trotter, who were students at Harvard College. My very own introduction to Baldwin got here through my role as president of the League of Women for Community Service, a women’s club that she co-founded in 1919 and served as the primary president of until her sudden death in 1922. Despite the shortage of non-public writings to attract from, the biography offers a compelling picture of Baldwin’s life and the astounding courage she flaunted to resist in her own way the devastating systems of oppression that so severely restricted Black people and girls from reaching their full potential. Her persistence and talent to survive and thrive in some ways amid overwhelming odds is an inspiration, and worthy of broader recognition. —Kalimah Knight, senior deputy director, Office of Media Relations
Move, by Caroline Williams. What are you doing right away? Rise up! The straightforward act of standing boosts blood flow to your brain. Stretch! You’ll flush toxins out of your muscles. Stroll across the block! It’ll make you more creative and cheerful. This collection of cutting-edge research, statistics, personal stories, and practical suggestions by health sciences journalist Caroline Williams reminds us that humans didn’t evolve to sit down around all day—and once we do, we pay the worth, from higher rates of disease to poorer mood to slower and foggier pondering (with the result that our average IQ is dropping generation after generation, even after accounting for other aspects). Luckily, Williams reminds us, there’s a vibrant side: once we do get moving, the advantages aren’t just higher physical and mental health—they vary from healing after trauma and greater artistic creativity, to a deeper sense of reference to fellow humans and our world. Particularly fascinating are her points concerning the central role physical movement plays in our language and even our pondering, which is probably going because our ability to think sequentially and plan ahead evolved to assist us swing through the trees. Williams’ writing is quick, clear, and entertaining, and she or he capably takes a chunk of health advice you’re probably sick of hearing and resigned to never putting into practice, and turns it into an exciting recent frontier that you may’t wait to explore—living proof: I’m literally writing this while walking around and around an airport. —Monica Jimenez, senior content creator/editor, University of Communications and Marketing
Painting Enlightenment: Healing Visions of the Heart Sutra, by Paula Arai. The Heart Sutra, a Mahayana Buddhist scripture, is taken into account to contain the essence of nondual wisdom: it’s chanted day by day in Zen Buddhist temples throughout the world, and transcribed as a meditative art. The painter-calligrapher Iwasaki Tsuneo, whose body of labor is the main target of this book, worked the 260 Chinese characters of the Heart Sutra into image after luminous image. Arai begins the journey with a compelling story that has been told to her by one in every of the ladies with whom she has been researching Buddhist healing. “Paula-san, I finally understand. Emptiness shouldn’t be cold. It’s what embraces us with compassion, enabling us to live, move, breathe, even die. . . Upon seeing them I felt how warm and wonderful emptiness is. It’s essential to see for yourself.” Arai goes to see an exhibit of Iwasaki’s work and immediately her mind opens to perceive the deep compassion that’s at the basis of emptiness as well. Perhaps it is strictly a war-weary veteran comparable to Iwasaki that may give such exacting and luminous labor on behalf of compassion. As Arai notes, “Each brushstroke was a prayer for healing.” Seeing the Heart Sutra calligraphy reappear in the shape of autumn leaves, carp, and thru atoms, galaxies, and double helixes of DNA, one grasps instinctively the interwoven nature of time and being. This book provides its reader with a window into the artist’s journey, which answers the chaos and pain of the postmodern era by tapping into the deep cultural resources inside traditional Japanese brush painting, infused with Iwasaki’s sacred vision of wholeness, experienced as vast and subtle interconnection—the universe in a blade of grass, by one other name. —Ji Hyang Padma, Buddhist chaplain, priest within the Soto Zen tradition
Plagues Upon the Earth: Disease and the Course of Human History, by Kyle Harper. From the earliest times, humans generally haven’t died of old age: they’ve died of infectious disease. Only within the last 100 years or so have infectious diseases—brought on by helminths (worms), protozoa (think malaria), bacteria, and viruses—been pushed back to change into secondary causes of mortality. Harper had earlier written about how climate and disease affected the fate of the Roman Empire, and before the beginning of the COVID-19 pandemic, decided to research the role of disease on all of human history. Here he details the progression of our species out of Africa, hand in hand with the bacteria, viruses, worms, and viruses that attempt to hijack our bodies’ energy and use us to breed and spread. Some parasites come to concentrate on homo sapiens as perfect homes, while for others we’re an accidental source of nutrients. Though we remember diseases just like the Black Death—a bacteria that killed as much as 50% of a few of the populations it ravaged within the 1300s and afterwards—in actual fact, helminths just like the worm that causes the dreadful disease schistosomiasis have caused probably at the least as much suffering and death over the centuries. Infectious disease has shaped human history in so some ways—affecting which countries have stagnated economically while others marched ahead—and at the identical time, humans of their astounding adaptive success have created environments for parasites to thrive where they wouldn’t otherwise. It could make for depressing reading, but Harper is such a skillful author that I discovered it fascinating as a substitute. That is Big History of the type Jared Diamond writes, but on a much higher plane: smart, humane, perceptive—in a word, fascinating, and thoroughly written in addition. —Taylor McNeil, senior news and audience engagement editor, University Communications and Marketing
Rogues: True Stories of Grifters, Killers, Rebels and Crooks, by Patrick Radden Keefe. Sometimes, you may judge a book by its cover. Rogues grabbed my attention in the brand new arrivals section of my local library. The book is a set of essays first published within the Latest Yorker and is the right book for anyone who loves a very good true crime podcast. Each chapter tells a story about criminals big (cartel bosses) and small (wine forgers) as well those that buck convention (Anthony Bourdain and a death penalty attorney). Each of Keefe’s stories is immaculately researched and provides little known details to even a few of the most famous stories, just like the Marathon bombing. Each chapter is about 20 pages, and also you never wish to put it down until you finish reading about that exact rogue. The book doesn’t lionize the rogues, but points out their human qualities, and highlights those in law enforcement who pursue and challenge them. —Stephen Muzrall, senior director of development & alumni engagement, School of Dental Medicine
What Hath God Wrought: The Transformation of America, 1815-1848, by Daniel Walker Howe. I could put this book down, and did, often, across 10 years. Daniel Walker Howe’s Pulitzer-winning history traces an era that echoes through our own, and it was weirdly steadying to read the early Nineteenth century at almost the pace I used to be living the early twenty first. Revisiting nearly two centuries’ scholarship, Howe recasts the “Jacksonian age” as a period of fast change—with technology producing a communications revolution, with religious and social movements proliferating, and, centrally in Howe’s interpretation, with political parties and their supporters contesting whose America this is able to be: an America for a violent white hierarchy, or an America for us all. Should you are sometimes repelled by political characters whose cynical nonsense fills our newsfeeds, Howe will remind you that your grandparents’ great-grandparents once endured Martin Van Buren. If way back you had opened Twitter or Facebook and thought ‘What hath God wrought!’ as you discovered far-flung connections, Howe relates that this same awe gripped members of Congress witnessing the telegraph for the primary time, Samuel Morse immediately transmitting that very phrase from the U.S. Capitol all of the method to Baltimore. And when you are sickened by the continuing political salience of white supremacy and gendered violence, colonial devastation, and widespread meanness, this book underscores that we should not the primary to face the query of what we’ve wrought—and of whether we’ll commit ourselves to the work of repair and internal improvements of justice and transformation. —Laura C. Lucas, knowledge strategy & operations, Office of the Provost