2024 Books Read+ Listened, Publications!, Titles I loved

2024: The Read + Listen List

To date, December 31, 2024: 75 reads/audio books. Slowed down a bit with a lot of submissions and three accepted publications to edit and celebrate (see previous blog post). Ended up with 9 favorites, a few tied, a wide range of OMG to MEH. Beginning 2025 with Sally Rooney Intermezzo. Will let you know.

Thank you for reading with me, encouraging me, PM’ing me, emailing me, hugging me. Love you all.

Cheers to a NEW YEAR of amazing possibilities and so many new titles.

XOX Alexandra Dane

Note: listed in the order I read beginning January, 2024. Comments and ranking completely subjective.

#1 favorite happened to be the first book read: the plot, the premise, the piece of earth. Tough act to follow!
Not my genre, but willing to read because it is for a lot of other people I respect.
Most gifted book of 2024 (by me!)
I love Jess Walter and suspending reality.
Perfect airplane read.
A long time fan of Laurie, maybe not my favorite but she tackles family of all dimensions.
Can you guess? Another gifting book, or chicken soup for the soul when you are not feeling well.
Hmmmm.
I keep up on all of this because, well, 60’s and sleepless.
#3. Unforgettable characters. Fate. Love. Tuscany.
Consideration of 50 words, David Whyte style.
On friendship. Premise and research a bit thin to me.
Siblings, inheritance, Christmas. Short airplane distraction.
Tiny stories from covid times. Loved.
If you have not discovered Joy Harjo, poet, Native American, memoirist, make that a 2025 goal.
Vera Stanhope series on PBS is based on this book series. Engaging.
Ditto
Nope.
Saga that ends in Seattle. Good listen.
Vera, again.
This has been controversial amongst friends and strangers. For me, boring.
#2. My absolute favorite series based on The Moth performance essays. Favorite!
A fanciful story about a librarian, a boy and a dysfunctional family. Engaged me.
You will not hold it against me that I am still making my way through this…988 pages, one sentence.
Forgive me, but not a fan. If you love all her other writing, you know she changes style for each one.
Winner of many prizes, a story from the afterlife. I bought it for the cover, really, and then loved it.
#5. Museum guard and his journey into the uniform and out.
Honest debut fiction by a Nigerian queer writer.
Sorry Ruth.
Big-Chill-like with an unusual pact. I found it thought provoking and tempting.
I am still reading this in small bites by my bed. Fantastic.
Audio. Predictable.
Did not grab me one bit.
#4. Old book, a memoir about a woman who takes her children cruising in the PNW back when arrowheads were on the beaches and strangers offered meals.
oooof
Anything Joan Didion. I am catching up on her.
Ok this was a phase. Lost track halfway through but engaging mythology.
Oh, Colm. We really needed closure.
Anything Crow.
Memoir, addiction, inheritance, love story.
Bletchley Park based novel about Prince Philip’s first love.
My new go-to inspiration.
The mythology continues.
Essays that range the PNW and beyond.
Forgettable.
Novel of betrayals, art, love and fallen angels. Airplane read.
Tied for #1 of 2024. This writing, the darkness and the light are not for the fainthearted.
Loss and mystery, an engaging story.
No.
Essays by a proud, queer indigenous women. I greatly admire her work.
Read Tove Jansson’s short spare stories soon. The Summer Book remains one of my all-time favorites.
Never a fan of fiction that stretches the facts, this felt hysterical and thin on reality.
Background audio.
Coming of age in the political turmoil of Iran in the 1950’s. Reminiscent of The Kite Runner.
#6 for me: set in Pembrokeshire coast of Wales, a woman’s journey through the sea and her health. Think Rachel Carson and Annie Dillard.
Long awaited Flavia de Luce series, book No. 11. Another series to pick up before a snowstorm.
Popped up in someone else’s feed and found at http://www.betterworldbooks.com, a thought provoking but a bit meandering and thin book.
Set in 1994 in Dublin and County Donegal this leaves you hanging in too many ways.
I tried. I really, really tried to like this. Was not for me.
The Kate Atkinson binge begins: Jackson Brodie series for planes, cars, sleeplessness, knitting.
#7 for 2024, a 2024 NYT Best Historical Fiction Book, inspired from Claire Messud’s own family history. “As intimate as it is expansive.”
I will follow this voice anywhere. Though he sort of runs out of interesting meals he sure has interesting guests.
Jackson Brodie #2
Jackson Brodie #3 — a lot of @adaneknit orders!
Pre-ordered and waited with held breath I was profoundly disappointed. My least favorite setting brought back (Monastery) with a lot of to-and-fro with no movement in story. So sad.
Jackson Brodie book #4
Thanks to a prompt for a virtual book group to discuss this book with Wendy Call, I would call this my #8 favorite read of 2024. Essays so thought provoking and tightly written the editor Wesley Morris knew what the assignment was — tuck this in for your next trip and enjoy.
Could not finish. Perhaps done with Elizabeth Strout.
Jackson Brodie #5
Louise Erdrich is a master. I stayed with this, liked The Sentence better.
Ugh. It always comes down to the narrator. I could be skimming if real pages but the voice drags me down. Have hit the ‘pause’ button.
Purchased and stamped by Shakespeare + Co in Paris for the airplane home. Distracting.
I end 2024 on a book about pilgrimage during our turbulent covid/political times on The Camino Francés. Packed with history about the route, scenery and the soul. Not a fast read but inspiring.
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Faith, February 29, leap, Still Life

Leap!

Today we leap! February 29, 2024. True confessions, I was more of a slug today, wrapped in a blanket reading and listening to the wind throw down arctic temperatures. Urge to cocoon, not cavort. I could not turn on the news. Trying to figure out just where the heck 2024 is going. Overwhelmed by a need to have GOALS and PURPOSE and PRODUCTION and CLARITY immediately. Which is of course the curse of all of the above.

I am reading a book, Still Life by Sarah Winman, a novel with engaging characters including a parrot that roam between England and Florence, loving and losing and loving again, eating fresh pasta and drinking shots in a pub. Humor and wit and sadness and art. Adore every page. Have cried twice in the last chapter. Feel propelled to book a ticket on the railway.

February is traditionally rudderless — beware the urge to give yourself bangs. Yes, the sun is setting later but it still gets gloomy at 4pm. I am tired of comfort food. I am in need of a pedicure. I want to wear a swishy skirt and feel sun on my shins. No leaping here.

Perhaps the word I am looking for is traction; my toes firmly digging into this day. Appreciating what I have done instead what I am not doing: that I have a clean essay to send to twenty submission calls. That I have had an amazing time with my family this week. That the daffodils and cherry blossoms are blooming, though a bit soggy, when I return to Seattle next week for book readings, workshops and hikes.

Is this going to be a ‘leap of faith’ year? Not about bangs. Really. For me, I need to trust myself. That may be on the couch. That may be jumping into the unknown. Faith in self.

Pat yourself on the back. Today you have done an amazing job of being here, there, or wherever the day landed you.

This guy, just mere ounces of feathery bone, braved the arctic wind for a few crunchy seeds and posed for his cameo shot. It’s all in the toes, do you agree?

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#amreading, Books 2023, Personal opinion

My 2023 Reading List.

Here is the list of the books I read, in paper form, in 2023. This is not a book blog as you know, but today these titles, posted on @alexandradanewriter each time I pick one up to read, deserve a list. Sometimes I post a thought, but mostly I just document them. My process for choosing varies: the cover, the title, culled from online bookstore recommendations, book group choices, friend suggestions, ones poached from a hostess’s bedside table, indie bookstore purchases, required reading from a workshop.

If you make it to the end, read my short short evaluation list. Happy New Year!

Foster — Claire Keegan

Journey of The Heart — Daily (started) Melody Beattie

A Glove Shop in Vienna + Other Stories — Eva Ibbotson

Book lovers — Emily Henry

The Comfort Food Diaries — Emily Nunn

Wintering — Katherine May

Things I Don’t Want to Know — Deborah Levy

In Five Years — Rebecca Serle

The Cost of Living — Deborah Levy

Real Estate — Deborah Levy

Women Holding Things — Maira Kalman

No Baggage — Clara Bensen

The Best American Food Writing 2022 — Edited by Sola El-Waylly

Red Paint — Sasha taq sablu LaPointe

Blow Your House Down — Gina Frangello

Stone blind — Natalie Haynes

Just A Mother — Roy Jacobsen

Miss Bunting — Angela Thirkell

Milk Blood Heat — Daniel W. Moniz

Enchantment — Katherine May

Artful Sentences: Virginia Tufte

The Body Keeps the Score — Bessel Van Der Kolk, M.D.

Poet Warrior — Joy Harjo

Dear Edward — Ann Napolitano

Ma and Me — Putsata Reang

Hang The Moon — Jeannette Walls

Walk the Blue Fields — Claire Keegan

Unraveling — Peggy Orenstein

Fellowship Point — Alice Elliot Dark

In The Distance — Hernan Diaz

Go As A River — Shelley Read

The Hand That First Held Mine — Maggie O’Farrell

The Feather Thief — Kirk Wallace Johnson

The Covenant of Water — Abraham Verghese 

Yours Truly, The Obituary Writer’s Guide — James R. Hagerty

When A Crocodile Eats the Sun — Peter Godwin

Books + Island in Ojibwa Country — Louise Erdrich

Small Mercies — Dennis Lehane

Good Eggs — Rebecca Hardiman

You Could Make This Place Beautiful — Maggie Smith Memoir

Antartica — Claire Keegan

Demon Copperhead — Barbara Kingsolver

Flash Nonfiction — Dirty W. Moore

Meet Me in Atlantic City — Jane Wong

Shrines of Gaiety — Kate Atkinson

Second Star and Other Reasons for Lingering — Jody Gladding

The Bookbinder — Pip Williams

The Secret Keeper of Jaipur — Alka Joshi

The Librarianist — Patrick deWitt

The Perfumist — Alka Joshi

Lilac Girls — Martha Hall Kelly

Landslide — Susan Conley

Reinventing the Enemy’s Language — Joy Harjo

Tom Lake — Ann Patchett

Birnam Wood — Eleanor Catton

Midnight at The Blackbird Café — Heather Webber

The Women in Black — Madeleine St John

Trust — Hernan Diaz

beyond that, the sea — Laura Spence-Ash

Study for Obedience — Saish Bernstein

The Swedish Art of Aging Exuberantly — Margareta Magnusson

So Late in the Day — Claire Keegan

No Two Persons — Erica Bauermeister

The Lioness of Boston —  Emily Franklin

Finding Muchness — Kobi Yamada

A Bird in Winter — Louise Doughty

Mad Honey — Jennifer Finney Boylan

The Abundance — Annie Dillard

the wren, the wren — anne Enright

The Reluctant Caregiver — Devon Ervin

Returning Light — Robert L. Harris

Stolen — Ann-Helén Laestadius

Big Heart, Little Stove, cookbook — Erin French

How To Walk — Tech That Hand

A Philosophy of Walking  — Frédérick Gros

The Best American Food Writing 2023 —  Mark Bittman

When Death Takes Something From you Give it Back — Maja Marie Aidt

Spark Birds — from Orion

Moon of the Crusted Snow — Waubgeshig Rice

The Land of Lost Things — John Connelly

When I sing, Mountains Dance — Irene Solà

Terrace Story — Hilary Leichter

Absolution — Alice McDermott

North Woods —Daniel Mason

Note: The following are solely based on my personal evaluations. All of the books are worthy. All books are worthy. I close each one at the end wiser, smarter and healthier.

Best book, Fiction: Tie between Go Like a River (L. Doughty) and A Bird in Winter (S. Read).

Best book, NonFiction: You Could Make This Place Beautiful, Maggie Smith

Worst book: The Lioness of Boston, Emily Franklin — too many liberties with the concept “historical fiction” about Isabella Stewart Gardener.

Need to read again: When Death Takes Something From you Give it Back — Maja Marie Aidt

Thought provoking: Moon of the Crusted Snow — Waubgeshig Rice. Dystopian yet close to home.

Most read author: Claire Keegan

Most lent out to other readers: Wintering, Katherine May

Most gifted to others: Finding Muchness, Kobi Yamada

Ones I left on the airplane seat when done: Book Lovers, Emily Henry

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Holidays, Quality time, Table for one

Table For One.

I love a table for one, now more than ever.

Not just because it is more covid safe (2021, new language!) but because I can push my London Fog to the edge, dig into my bag, write/knit/read undisturbed, ask for more hot water, repeat. The perfect combination of alone-time in a crowd; being social without overdoing it.

My father once commented I had his ability to physically disassociate with what was happening around me and not hear the world. “Not a criticism,” he went on to say, smiling,”I admire that tactic and use it frequently.” Until he mentioned this I had not noticed, only knew I could read anywhere, anytime. Also noted many times that he didn’t look up when reading a book and the phone rang. We are not claiming any special powers here, just know how to sink. And lose track of time.

Recently, it feels like socializing is in hyper-speed, a sense of making up for lost time. For the record, I did not “lose time” in 2020 — I stretched it, listened to it, found more room in the endlessness of quarantine. I do not seem to be on board with the frenzy, struggling to find my former ability to small talk (maybe I was never good at that anyways), often standing in corners, watching more than mingling. Far from feeling badly, I feel healthy, self aware and quite ok with this view of the crowds.

A table for one, in a busy café on a rainy Seattle afternoon, is just the right immersion back.

I also do not feel badly for going to bed at 9PM. Or bowing out of invitations. I feel rested, and scheduled time with others have become more thoughtful and sincere.

As the holidays approach (fast), I hope we can all think about where to find the quality, not quantity. I hope to be in a pig pile with grand dogs, my grown children sleeping in their beds until noon.

Cheers to my friends and readers and supporters. Love to you wherever you are and be well.

When it rains, sit still.

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#trending, Coping, flowers, Friendship, Healing, writing

#Trending: It’s personal.

[tren-ding]: emerging as a popular trend.

What is #trending for you personally this July, 2018? Because that is all that really matters. I was thinking about this as the birds sprayed all the fresh water out of my birdbath this morning, exuberantly enjoying their morning spa. Note that nothing about my list is trendy #trending — you would have to  jump over to twitter for that — instead, a short list of what I realize has unfolded as my compass this last month.

  1. #goodfriendsareshastadaisies:  Leucanthemum superbum are the most trustworthy summer perennial I know — standing tall despite heat or thunderstorms or neglect,  They stretch to the sky and tip their faces up to the sun and grow in the poorest patches of earth. I have friends that stand up to life this way, the same friends who continuously cultivate our friendship despite our differences or geography or challenges.  They are my #trending anchors, my soul soothers, I channel you daily. You know who you are. I am grateful.
  2. #WritingReadingThinking: If I can’t write, I read. If I can’t read, I think. Do not underestimate the power of sitting with morning tea and listening to what is happening around you and just thinking. Some of my best lines float into my brain this way. Some of the best answers come to me watching birds hop in and out of the birdbath. It has taken six decades to allow sitting into my life and to reap the benefits. One silver lining of health challenges I try to pay forward daily.
  3. #Family: As we grow up and old we change. I am all for this. For all of us. What is  #trending for me is the filament that holds us together, though my family grows and expands —  a tie so gossamer it seems invisible but so strong, like the single thread of a spider web. I am thankful.
  4. #Sadsacksofflesh: So I lost a couple of sad sacks of flesh last year and I am about to lose another. #trending for me is understanding what I can live without and remembering how I have healed, over and over. I am writing a to-do list for 2019 and checking it twice. Watch me go after this next surgery. Catch me if you can.
  5. #LettingStuffGo: The Nest, in Seattle, is three rooms and a bath. Enough said. We don’t need anything, really, but the essentials. And chocolate. What are yours?

So what is #trending for me personally? I am picking daisies and talking to friends far and near and staying in touch with my grown-up offspring and getting through another hospital gig and booking tickets and writing workshops and retreats and outlining my new manuscript and stripping the basement of stuff. I can’t wait for the year to come. And in the near future, I will be sitting down, watching the birds and thinking while my body catches up.

How about you? Whatever it is, make it yours, make it good.

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Choices, Knitting, Read, writing

Essentials.

What I am reading: The Empathy Exams, Leslie Jamison —  The Tao of Raven: An Alaska  Native Memoir, Ernestine Hayes —  Dancing Bears, Witold Szablowski.

What I just finished : The School of Essential Ingredients, Erica Bauermeister — Devotions, Mary Oliver — Songs of Willow Frost, Jamie Ford.

What I am knitting: A vest out of maize-colored Rowan Felted Tweed. A Churchmouse Yarn cowl pattern, wildly adapted to what I had in my yarn bag. An orchid-colored Alexandra’s Airplane scarf out of Rowan Kid Silk Haze and beaded with pink iridescent micro-beads.

What I am writing: Draft #20 of a personal essay piece, about to be submitted.

You get the picture: books, yarn, needles, paper. Last weekend my cousin and I went to an estate sale, early in the morning while the dew was still shivering on the cherry blossoms. We parked by a stone archway and stepped into a long room anchored by a walk-in fireplace, fully ablaze. I wandered this old farmhouse, stripped bare and crackling with story. When I returned to the front room the owner was saying “It just got away from us.” I fingered a chipped bowl full of scissors. My heart broke around the edges.

There is letting go and there is not keeping up. I want to be the former, smart and brave and realistic when the time comes. Recently the time has come for certain things: clothes I will never wear, shoes I cannot walk in anymore. And books. And furniture.

I sense I am in a race with myself, a new look at the future —  to not be caught short of sense and burdened by stuff. Last year’s health scares just simply brought home that  there is not an endless stretch ahead. So what do I really need each day?

Books, yarn, needles, paper works every corner of my brain, now that I have it back inside my head. Everything is portable and can be pulled from the same bag. Perhaps a toothbrush would be good.

And the people that love me, that are on this journey with me? I will have toothbrushes for all of you, too.

Ten months and counting from that double-whammy last year. I am learning to pack a bag of the essential ingredients and let the rest go.

 

Bainbridge Island, March 18th, 2018 Camelia

Bainbridge Island, March 18, 2018. Camellia blossom: essential spring.

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