Maybe I should have asked my oldest brother if he and his wife are sick of being called “maniacs.”

You know – being long-time Maine residents and all.

Harry and Linda are avid readers. They regale family and friends each December with a letter tucked into their Christmas card detailing their recommendations based on their favorite reads of that year.

Here’s a compilation from the past several years:

Harry: After rereading Bleak House, Harry still ranks it as Dickens’ best. His genius at creating so many vivid and distinct characters is astonishing; each is important to the story and seems connected to all the others in an intricate web. His building of suspense can be almost excruciating, and his depictions of grace and generosity under soul-crushing conditions are inspiring.

My new interest in writing short stories has led me to seek out the best of the genre. I’ve enjoyed de Maupassant and I. B. Singer, among others, but as a nation the Irish get my vote for masters of the form. One of dozens of little-known but gifted writers, Frank O’Connor wrote two of my favorites: “In the Train” reveals a chilling situation little by little; rather than leading his readers by the nose to the solution, the author allows us to discover it by degrees. “The Man of the World” is a memory of a childhood epiphany, a moment’s experience that lifts the speaker beyond his earlier plane of existence, transforming him forever.      

Linda is grateful that she has …

… a non-resident card at a nearby small library that has remained open throughout most of the pandemic. The librarians in this beautiful old space encourage people to talk about books. Often patrons who don’t really know each other exchange book recommendations and share books. By far the best fiction environmentally conscious Linda read was The Overstory by Richard Powers, in which each of the nine characters empathizes and merges identity with a particular tree variety, leading to an astonishing conclusion.

Linda also recommends What a Plant Knows: A Field Guide to the Senses by Daniel Chamovitz, which she read for her naturalist course. Chamovitz’s science-based book substantiates the fictional link between humans and nature established by Powers. The convergence of both books lends respect to Linda’s years of conversing with trees. 

Here are Harry’s recommendations from 2021:

In Hillbilly Elegy, J. D. Vance captures the pain of being trapped by poverty and of feeling like a stranger in his own country. He describes how, through his own efforts and with help from a few caring people, he rose out of poverty and an unstable family life and became a successful lawyer. His unflinching look at the self-destructive behaviors of family, friends, and self that can make escape so difficult is balanced by his pride in his Appalachian roots.

House of Wisdom by Jim al Khalili opened my eyes to how much we modern Westerners owe to the Muslim world. While Europe was stagnating during the Dark Ages, Islamic culture experienced a flowering of advances in math, science, and medicine. Muslim scholars simplified arithmetic (imagine multiplying Roman numerals!), invented algebra and chemistry, ingeniously and accurately measured the earth’s circumference and the height of the atmosphere, and introduced the scientific method to research – in other words, they originated much that Europeans later took credit for.

Forty years ago, one of my fellow botany grad students at U-Wisconsin-Madison was Robin Wall Kimmerer. Little did I know, when I house-sat for her a couple of times, that she was to become a wise woman and gifted writer. Her essay collection Braiding Sweetgrass is the most profound book on nature and science I’ve read in years. A research ecologist and active member of the Potawatomi Nation, she eloquently expresses her unique perspective on how to learn about (and from) the natural world with respect, love, and a sense of wonder, without sacrificing scientific rigor.

Beatles-ophile Harry …

… enjoyed Here, There, and Everywhere, a memoir by the group’s chief engineer Geoff Emerick. The details of molding their songs into the versions we know and love are fascinating and will provide Harry with even more trivia about his musical heroes to annoy his friends and family.

A different kind of hero is Andrei Sakharov, Soviet nuclear scientist turned human rights activist, whose memoir I reread during the centennial year of his birth. The intimidation and persecution he suffered at the hands of his own government were appalling, but the courage and unwavering moral compass that brought him through those evil years are awe-inspiring.

Finally, soon after the passing late last year of John Le Carré, I read his final novel, Silverview. Even in his late 80s, my favorite espionage writer was still finding new ways to explore the dilemma of conflicting loyalties (this time between husband and wife working for opposite sides!) and the human toll they extract.

Linda’s recommendations:

Perhaps if history teachers had chosen to share what “real” people experienced, I would have been more interested in learning about the time period. By far, my favorite book of the year is Beneath a Scarlet Sky by Mark T. Sullivan. Pino Lella is a typical Italian teenager whose family forces him to enlist in the German army when their home is destroyed by bombs. After he is wounded, Pino is recruited by the Nazis. He serves as a driver for Hitler’s chief commander in Italy, a brutally cruel and powerful decision maker. In this role as driver, Pino hears valuable details that he shares with the leader of an underground railroad.

Pino himself guides a caravan of Jews through the Alps in an emotional, heroic ordeal. In the foreword we learn that Sullivan decided to tell Pino’s story after they met in person. Sullivan researched the book for ten years before writing. The afterword includes interviews with the real people who support the story’s facts. Without this, one might think some of the events are too amazing to be true.

Linda tends to read …

… well-researched fiction that opens her mind to how people think, especially people who make what she considers “questionable decisions.”

Jodi Picoult spent four years attending meetings of individuals trying to recover from identifying as skinheads. She used this research to write Small Great Things. The book’s jacket claims the book will “lead readers to question everything they know about privilege, power, and race.” So, too, will A Book of American Martyrs by Joyce Carol Oates. The plot entwines the families of an Evangelical who thinks he is doing God’s will and the abortion doctor he assassinates. Both books are eye-opening and powerful. 

For those wanting a good cry about the effects of Alzheimer’s, the last of Linda’s recommendations (for now) is And Every Day the Way Home Gets Longer, a novella by Fredrick Backman.  

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