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Reading: comfort and wisdom

Here’s what I’ve been reading and liking lately.

shoppingEvicted is a thick work of nonfiction by sociologist Matthew Desmond, about tenants and landlords in a poor part of Milwaukee. The book is richly told, detailed, Dickensian. I liked the telling more than the tale, which is depressing, heartbreaking, hopeless. Women and children, the disabled, the underemployed, the drug addicted losing their homes. Housing as a human right? I’m sold.

imagesOn to a big read, The Nix, by Nathan Hill, which tells the story of a young man who must reunite with the mother who abandoned him as a child, who has resurfaced as a political terrorist. This read is a wild ride that spans continents and decades, mostly set in and around contemporary Chicago. It’s a coming of age story, a love story, a satire, a terrifying on-the-ground retelling of the 1968 Chicago riots. 620 pages, so much to like.

images-1In my post-election funk, I needed comedy. Francine Prose’s Mister Monkey was my salve. From a musical that never goes out of style — Mister Monkey — we enter the lives of actors, the director, the author, a man and his grandson in the audience. What a delightful web! Each of their stories entrances; I especially loved the grandfather in the mix with today’s fussy parents and the school teacher on a first date from hell. Sweet, funny, surprising. A rollicking read.

Also in the blog

Ah, to finish the year grieving the end of a book: Robert Stone’s Death of the Black-Haired Girl. This is a town-and-gown noir thriller, not at all Stone’s usual fare. I loved it. “A cloud of resentment,” Maud Stack is a beautiful brainiac undergraduate in love with her advisor, Steven Brookman. It’s mutual — but

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A friend who owns restaurants says patrons come back, time after time, for a signature dish. Something no other restaurant makes or prepares in the same way. I’d widen the reasons for returning to a restaurant: portions, presentation, ingredients, certain servers, a special view. Two restaurants in my Old Town neighborhood, opened within the past

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It’s no fun throwing daggers at a flawed book but I spent $22 and a few days of my vacation making my way through Darin Strauss’s slender memoir, Half a Life. A better title would be: Half a Memoir. At 18, in the last days of high school’s senior year, Strauss drives his buddies to

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