The Books Dave Read in 2023

1) The Candy House by Jennifer Egan

2) The House Across the Lake by Riley Sager

3) Ducks: Two Years in the Oil Sands by Kate Beaton

4) Hark! A Vagrant by Kate Beaton

5) Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow by Gabrielle Zevin

6) Death by Video Game: Danger, Pleasure, and Obsession on the Virtual Frontline by Simon Parkin

7) The Quiet Boy by Ben H. Winters

8) Flight by Lynn Steger Strong

9) The Revolutionary: Sam Adams by Stacy Schiff

10) How to Sell a Haunted House by Grady Hendrix

11) South to America: A Journey Below the Mason-Dixon to Understand the Soul of a Nation by Imani Perry

12) Hit Makers: The Science of Popularity in an Age of Distraction by Derek Thompson

13) This Is What It Sounds Like: What the Music You Love Says About You by Susan Rogers and Ogi Ogas

14) The Undertow: Scenes from a Slow Civil War by Jeff Sharlet

15) Bottoms Up and the Devil Laughs: A Journey Through the Deep State by Kerry Howley

16) The Other Side of Night by Adam Hamdy

17) The 7½ Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle by Stuart Turton

18) Birnam Wood by Eleanor Catton

19) The Little Friend by Donna Tartt

20) Carmageddon: How Cars Make Life Worse and What to Do About It by Daniel Knowles

21) The Ghosts of Belfast by Stuart Neville

22) Shakespeare: The World as a Stage by Bill Bryson

23) 1215: The Year of Magna Carta by Danny Danziger and John Gillingham

24) If We Were Villains by M.L. Rio

25) Ringworld by Larry Niven

26) My Murder by Katie Williams

27) Crook Manifesto by Colson Whitehead

28) The Last Good Kiss by James Crumley

29) The Godwulf Manuscript by Robert B. Parker 

30) God Save the Child by Robert B. Parker

31) Slouching Towards Utopia: An Economic History of the Twentieth Century by J. Bradford DeLong

32) Mortal Stakes by Robert B. Parker

33) Promised Land by Robert B. Parker

34) Under the Eye of Power: How Fear of Secret Societies Shapes American Democracy by Colin Dickey

35) Counterweight by Djuna

36) Judas Goat by Robert B. Parker

37) The Crying of Lot 49 by Thomas Pynchon

38) Pet by Catherine Chidgey

39) Let's Talk About Love: Why Other People Have Such Bad Taste by Carl Wilson

40) Tourist Season by Carl Hiaasen

41) The Bonfire of the Vanities by Tom Wolfe

42) Gorky Park by Martin Cruz Smith

43) Strangers in Their Own Land: Anger and Mourning on the American Right by Arlie Russell Hochschild.

44) Wellness by Nathan Hill

45) Finite and Infinite Games by James P. Carse

46) All the Sinners Bleed by S.A. Cosby

47) When No One is Watching by Alyssa Cole.

Bubble Bubble, The Irish Troubles

A new episode of my podcast is up and streaming-- "Bubble, Bubble, The Irish Troubles" . . . this one is inspired by Stuart Neville's thriller The Ghosts of Belfast and it is a major improvement from my last effort, which was a rambling and convoluted attempt to cover far too large a topic-- this episode has an eclectic crew of special guests to boot, including: The Hasbro Pop-O-Matic, Detective Sean Duffy, Adrian McKinty, Sinead O'Connor, Indiana Jones, Erin Quinn, Grandpa Joe, The People's Front of Judea, and U2.

Dave and The Good Doctor Celebrate Yet Another Birthday With Some Doggerel Rhymes

The day has arrived,

the day of my birth--

The day Seuss and I

debuted on the Earth;

And while the good doctor

has passed from this place,

I'm still hanging on

still running the race,

still working the job,

still writing the posts,

still chasing the lob,

still taunting the ghosts--

I've been knocking around

for fifty-three years,

my knees are a wreck,

I can barely quaff beers--

but while I can walk,

stand and not fall,

I'll remain in the game

and play pickleball.

Stuff I Watched, Stuff I'm Watching

If you're looking for a different take on the horror genre, check out His House-- it's the story of a refugee couple from wartorn Sudan who seeks asylum in England and ends up in a not-so-typical-haunted-housing situation . . . these folks have some real skeletons in the closet and some real ghosts in their past; if you're looking for more traditional horror, check out Midnight Mass, a Netflix miniseries directed by Mike Flanagan-- the characters are well-drawn and Saracen from Friday Night lights has a superb role in this haunted island community; if you're looking to be stressed and depressed, watch The Americans . . . we've almost made it to the end of season four, and while the portrayal of two Soviet deep-cover spies who are "married" and have a family in Washington D.C. is compelling, gripping and candid, the show gets dark and then it gets darker . . . we can't stop watching, but it's brutal.

Tranquil Time Travel

Emily St. John Mandel's new novel Sea of Tranquility floats by in an otherworldly manner, which makes sense-- since it is beautifully written about other worlds, other times, other timelines, and other possibilities . . . and while there are ghosts of the post-apocalyptic, post-pandemic world of Station 11, the current COVID pandemic, and the author herself, the book flows by in an odd, serene state of hypothetical possibility, the possibility that the world is a simulation, the possibility that you might interview yourself, that you might go back in time and live a recursive life, the possibility of moving too fast and too far, and the possibility of being still, and the possibility that time and motion and memory might be corrupted like a bad file . . . this was a much smoother and philosophical read than the last time travel novel I read, The Paradox Hotel.

Stacey Summons the Dead

Stacey and I have the same schtick when we begin Hamlet-- we both play the role of Horatio, who-- in the opening moments of the play-- is skeptical of ghosts and the supernatural . . . Marcellus explains, "Horatio says 'tis but our fantasy, And will not let belief take hold of him" and Horatio, in reference to the apparition, confidently asserts "tush, tush, 'twill not appear" but, moments after he says this, the ghost of Old Hamlet DOES appear and, after some good natured "I told you so!" by Barnardo (How now, Horatio! You tremble and look pale.Is not this something more than fantasy? What think you on't?) Horatio admits that "Before my God, I might not this believe without the sensible and true avouch of mine own eyes" and just before the apparition enters, Stacey and I always ask the class if they believe in ghosts, then chastise the believers for their irrationality and then we try to summon the dead, call upon the spirit world to strike us dead and stop our hearts, etc . . .  and there are usually a few kids who get upset by this-- who don't think we should fuck around with the netherworld, whether we believe in it or not-- but we've never been haunted or struck dead . . . until now-- apparently last week, the night after Stacey did her ghost bit, she was visited by a spirit in the night, a little girl in a green sweatshirt that hovered over her bed-- twice!-- and she woke her husband up but he didn't see her and now she wonders if there might be spirits walking the earth, and she wonders if she has summoned them . . . but of course, I think she was dreaming or saw a shadow or whatever, as I am a logical and rational man-of-logic who would never be perturbed by such rubbish.

The Wailing is an Awesome Movie

The Wailing-- an epic 2016 Korean horror film-- is a cross between The Exorcist and The Naked Gun . . . and the imagery and cinematography, which is astounding and beautiful, is somewhere between Deliverance and Apocalypse Now . . . the movie features angels and demons and all of us bumbling idiots in between, there are shapeshifters and possession, zombies and infection, ghosts and senseless violence . . . but all of these tired tropes are given new life . . . the film is streaming on Amazon Prime, watch it before it vanishes.

Wilmington's Lie: If You're White, Read at Your Own Risk

Holy shit. The culmination of my Black History Month Book Club (with one member) is a wild one. Wilmington's Lie: The Murderous Coup of 1898 and the Rise of White Supremacy is a great read, but it's brutal. Downright humiliating American history. The worst behavior.

And the book explains a lot about present-day America. The reason progressives just can't fathom why poor white folks would vote for policies that harm them.

David Zucchino tells the story of Wilmington, North Carolina in 1898. At the start of the book, the city is a prosperous port. Blacks and whites live in the same neighborhoods. Blacks occupied positions in business, the middle class, and politics. In many regards, black freedmen were just as affluent and successful as whites. It was truly a functioning mixed-race city.

                                                      

Then the Democratic politicians and the white newspapers joined forces to oppress and terrorize blacks, disenfranchise them from voting, and essentially run them out of town. The story takes a violent turn when the paramilitary Redshirts, emboldened by a "white Declaration of Independence" run amok. They are heavily armed-- unlike the black folks in town (because munitions dealers would only sell to whites). They burn down the office of the black newspaper, The Record. They terrorize women and children. They kill at least sixty black men. The government coup is successful, Democrats illegally remove the Republicans and Fusionists. Crazy racist coup. The Wilmington government is now all white.

And then comes the whitewashing.

The first person to take the blame was a black newspaper owner, Alexander L. many. He had the gall to print an editorial debunking a fundamental white myth: the inviolate purity of the white woman. Manly suggested that many of the black men charged with "raping" white women did not do so. Instead, he speculated that they were often consensual lovers. He urged white men to protect their women, and not blame and lynch black men for taking part in willing trysts. Sacrilege! So they burned down his building, threatened him and his family, and sent him into hiding.

White papers and politicians knew how to manipulate this editorial and enrage white folks. It's the same political tactics of race and xenophobia as today, but you've got to replace the Republican party with the Democrats. They were the abominable racists involved with voter suppression and white supremacy in 1898. This is weird at first, but you get used to the flip-flop on racial politics. The Democrats hate the other, the Democrats blame the other, the Democrats gerrymander and suppress the other. It's a tactic, and an effective one. During the Reconstruction, the Republicans used the black vote, the Democrats destroyed it. The opposite of today's politics.

After the violence, Coup leader Col Alfred Waddell proclaimed a “White Declaration of Independence” and installed himself as mayor. He proudly instituted law and order and called the massacre a "race riot" started by blacks. Meanwhile, black families were mourning the dead, hiding out in swamps, taking trains North, and still being terrorized by white supremacists. They could not walk through the city without being stopped at Redshirt checkpoints, where they were searched, harassed, and often killed.

In the 1940s, Southern textbooks still portrayed the local (white) version of events. The Carpetbaggers and Scalawags were at fault for the violence, for inciting racial tension. The city was saved from chaos and disorder by a "sort of club which they named the Ku Klux Klan." The KKK performed the charitable task of "scaring lawless men into acting decently." They dressed as "ghosts" and "frightened Negroes into leading better lives." Yikes. That's what they were teaching the kids.

by the 1950s, the truth about the event was slowly uncovered. It still causes unrest and ill-will today. 2100 blacks fled the city, and many blacks and whites were banished for political reasons. It's the stuff of banana republics. The "success" in Wilmington emboldened white supremacists throughout the South to enact Jim Crow Laws and various means of black voter suppression.

The white supremacist newspaper editor, Josephus Daniels, moved on to Louisiana and campaigned for white supremacy there. He created a voter-suppression law that, in New Orleans, “helped reduce the number of black voters from 14,117 to 1,493.” Attempts to undo these wrongs were met by indifference by Republican President William McKinley (who was involved with other ordeals, including the Spanish-American War).

This book details a downright embarrassing period of American History. It's an important reminder that the end of the Civil War did not in any way mean civil rights for freedmen. The Reconstruction was a war unto itself; the history of the Reconstruction is historiography worth investigating-- though if you're a white dude (like me) you might find yourself reflecting on just how many obstacles were thrown in the way of blacks in America and wonder about the consequences. How long will they last? Will race be an issue in America for the rest of our days as a nation?

Are Dogs the New Black Dudes?

Once upon a time in America, horror and war movies often implemented the Black Dude Dies First trope. But times have changed, for the better. Audiences won't stand for that racist bullshit. You can't go killing off Denzel Washington or Morgan Freeman or Will Smith just because they're black. While this is absolutely a good thing, someone has to pick up the slack in these kinds of movies. Someone has to die in these movies.

So who suffers?

My family doesn't watch many scary movies because my older son Alex is a sniveling coward. Catherine, Ian and I like them, so it's always a treat when we get to hunker down and put one on. I'm definitely not a horror movie aficionado though. Usually when I mention a horror movie I've seen to someone who really likes horror movies-- usually one of my students-- she'll be like: "That's not scary!"

I get scared by pretty much anything (especially Blair Witch and Paranormal Activities).

The other night, Alex elected to go upstairs and pirate some Star Wars spin-off series called The Mandalorian (which sounds like a citrus fruit) so Catherine, Ian and I watched The Babadook.

It's really scary!

Terrifying.

It's the story of a mom who is possessed by the physical disembodiment of her tragic grief. And her super-creepy kid. And an even creepier children's book. There are some mean Australian moms, too-- a macabre Liane Moriarty milieu. It's well acted and vivid, and-- in the end-- profound about death and loss. A good scare and a good film.

My only complaint is the use of the dog.

There's all kinds of creepy shit happening around this house. Doors opening and closing, odd figures lurking in the shadows, sleepless nights, etc.  Most of the time, the dog is nowhere to be found. That's not how dogs are. They are investigative. They take up a lot of space. They are always underfoot. And whenever there's something weird happening, your dog is there. Loyal, curious, and wanting to be involved. But not this dog. Not Bugsy. Bugsy is rarely in the scene, and never when the shit is going down. And the boy and the mom aren't actively bringing the dog into the room when things get scary. 

Bugsy is barely even mentioned in the full cast on IMDB. It's a shame.

One of the main reasons to have a dog is to ward off ghosts and demons. There's no better feeling than going to sleep on the same floor as a trusty canine. If a burglar, or -- far worse-- a shadowy death-creature arisen from repressed bereavement, comes a-knocking, your dog is going to get after it. Or at least bark and run around in circles.

Not only does Bugsy not act like a dog, there's also no accurate portrayal of dog ownership. No walking and feeding the dog, no picking up its poop and all that. 

Soon enough, you realize why the dog is in the movie. 

                      

To die. 

It's not that sad, because the dog hasn't been a main character. It's not like what happens in I Am Legend. That's tragic.

                                  

The death of the dog in The Babadook is more perfunctory. And inevitable. The dog is the new black dude. I guess that's progress, but instead of being racist, the movie is speciesist. 

Ian and I also had this complaint about another horror movie we loved, The Conjuring. Early in the movie, Sadie the family dog refuses to enter the new house . . . because she knows the house is haunted. At this point, the family should up and leave. Trust your dog! But instead, they leash her outside the house and enter. 

When they check on her in the next morning, she's dead.

                           

As if this isn't awful enough, they barely mention her death the rest of the movie. I actually think they wrote the dog into the script after the movie was finished and then added the scene in post-production, just so they could have an early death. 

If this were my family, and we spent a night in a spooky new house-- a house that our dog refused to enter-- and then the next morning our dog was dead, that's all we'd be talking about. We'd be broken up and upset and angry and investigative. Every time something weird happened in the house, we'd be bringing up Sadie and how she died and how she wasn't around the protect us. That would be THE topic of conversation.

I know it's tough to use children and animals in movies. Horror movies often employ both. The kids are great in both The Conjuring and The Babadook. And neither movie kills off any black dudes. That's great. But now it's time to show respect for our four-legged friends. They require a lot of work. They take up a lot of space. They investigate everything. And they will protect you from the supernatural like nobody's business.

Seven Ways to Stay Calm in Traffic

So you're stuck in traffic and you are freaking out. Feeling trapped and claustrophobic. You might ram the car in front of you just to break the monotony.

Stop go stop go.

Before you do something you might regret, use one of these tried and true methods to keep your cool.

1) Beep

Beep the fuck out of your horn. Lay on that thing. Beeeeeeeeeep! Beep! Beep! Beeeeeeeeeeeeeep! Feels good right? Satisfyingly loud and futile.

2) Scream

Best done in concert with the beeping.

3) Profanity

You can only scream incoherently for so long before you blow out your vocal chords.

4) Regret

Regret your decisions, big and small. You should have moved to Vermont long ago. You should live in the woods with three dogs. Own a few acres of land near a mountain. Grow your own organic produce and tend a chicken coop.

Instead, you're going to get lung cancer from the smog, your kids have asthma, and you just learned that those beautiful purple and red sunsets are particulate matter. Why do you still live in New Jersey? And why did you feel the need to drive up Route 18 on a Friday afternoon? 

5) Play some music . . . NOT

You might think some groovy tunes would soothe your road rage, but music is a trap. Blasting upbeat songs will only remind you that you're stalled out, crawling through an industrial zone, while your friends drink beer at the bar.

Born to run? You're born plod.

Into the great wide open . . . my ass.

Road to nowhere? Then why is everyone under creation driving on it?

Life is a highway and you chose the wrong one.

6) Text and Drive

Texting while driving is dangerous and illegal, but might be distracting enough to take your mind off the herd of cars surrounding you. Text your wife, text your friends . . . text them about the traffic you are in. They would want to know about your pain and suffering. Warn them! Proclaim the apocalypse! Pity the fools that would drive into this pandemonium! Stay home! It's crazy out here!

7) Contemplate

Think really hard about traffic. Why are people stopping? What  exactly is causing the back-up? You've heard it doesn't need to be an accident. It could be a near-miss . . . or a near-hit. It could be an old lady wearing a pink hat riding her brakes. Why don't they make old people retake their road tests?

And then there's the most disturbing thought of all: this morass of cars that's making your heart pound and your hands sweat, this congregation of flesh and steel bringing your blood to a rapid boil, making you wish things upon your fellow humans that Pol Pot would consider inhumane . . . it might be caused by phantoms, ghosts in the machine: emergent phenomena amplified by the agglomeration of absurdly random moments; a brake light here, someone playing with their phone there, a truck that needs to get over to the right to exit, a poorly executed zipper merge. Trivial events cascading into epic delay.

And then you see it. Lo and behold. The anticlimax itself. The raison d'etre for all your misery. A car on the shoulder.

Seriously?

That's why all these cars have slowed to a crawl? That cannot be it. There's got to be something else. A sinkhole or a helicopter crash.

Are people really fucking stopping to look at a stalled Civic on the side of the road? No accident. No one is dead. Not even an ambulance. One police car. This is what it's come to? No one has anywhere to be? And there's nothing but cars and brake-lights ahead, and there's no exit, no way off the road. And everyone is fine with this? All these commuters are fine with it? Day after day? Night after night? This is what we've chosen? Over maglev trains and flying cars and trolleys and horses and hydrogen powered buses? These rolling coffins?

Beeeeeeeeeep!

Literacy: It's Not a Contest . . . Or Is It?

Over the past year, my friend (and fellow philosophy teacher) Stacey did something rather remarkable. I'm going to let her tell her story . . . but, before she begins, I have some rather remarkable commentary about her story (of course I do). I've conveniently put my words in vivid red, so if you want to skip them, you can proceed directly to Stacey's post. But you'd be missing out on some interesting context (and, not only that, you'd be missing out on all my thoughts and feelings, which-- if you've made your way to this corner of the internet-- you find either incredibly fascinating or so annoying that you can't stop reading them).

When Stacey started this project I was worried. Worried that she threw out the proverbial baby with the proverbial bathwater. I use the word "proverbial" here so readers unfamiliar with the idiom do not call DYFS and report Stacey for infanticide.

The "proverbial baby" Stacey tossed out of her life has more than a passing resemblance to an actual baby. It's immature, needs support in getting established, and possesses great potential. And it has a cute name. Podcast. Stacey threw out listening to podcasts, the nascent audio format that's still toddling around the media-milieu with an adorably anachronistic name. This freaked me out, because Stacey and I have both bonded with a number of different podcasts. It seemed kind of cold-blooded of her to cut ties completely with the art form (especially since we make one of our own). This would be like Steven Spielberg deciding not to watch movies (which might be the case, judging by how old the movies are that inspired him).

I'll let Stacey explain the specific ins and outs of why she quit this fledgling media cold turkey, but her general reason was so she could read more books. Now I'm all for reading books, but I don't like these kinds of arbitrarily strict deontological rules. I prefer case-by-case utilitarian ethics. The "deon" in deontological is Greek for duty, and Stacey decided it was her duty as an English teacher and an intellectual to change her ways. But I don't think you should completely quit something with as much potential value as podcasts. The right number of podcasts to listen to isn't zero. The right number is of podcasts to listen to is difficult to determine, but the golden mean, the amount of podcasts you can enjoy while still finding time to read, is probably somewhere around two per day. That seems reasonable. I wrote a long and winding post about the difficulties with this kind of Aristotelean morality and I do concede that it's easier to make a categorical rule if you want to get things done, but a good podcast is better than a bad book. I explained all this to Stacey, but she stuck to her principled guns.

I had other reasons for worrying about Stacey's project, some of them altruistic and some of them selfish. In all sincerity, I wanted Stacey to enjoy the new season of Serial. I wanted her to listen to two fantastic takes on human memory, one of them dead serious serious (Revisionist History "Free Brian Williams") and the other absurd and funny (Heavyweight "#16 Rob"). I wanted her to enjoy the weirdness of Benjamin Walker's Theory of Everything "Victory is Ours." But she would not bite. She was determined and focused.

Slightly more selfish was the fact that I wanted to be able to kill time at work discussing these podcasts with Stacey. I'd recommend them and she'd tell me "Not yet. I want to finish strong . . . December 2nd." I'd tell her she was nuts, that life is too short for hard and fast rules, and she shouldn't deny herself the pleasure, but there was no talking to her.

I was also worried that she might be reading a bunch of crap, just to amass a huge list of books. Loads of Jojo Moyes and Liane Moriarty and Nicholas Sparks. Chick-lit and cheese. This was rather stupid and sexist of me, it turns out.

My greatest anxiety was a selfish one. I was worried that she would read more books than me. I average forty-some books a year, a number I'm quite proud of. I always post the list, and I'm always impressed with myself (which isn't difficult . . . I set the bar low). It turns out I didn't need to worry about this. It wasn't even close. Stacey read so many books that I'll never count how many books I read in a year again. Because I'll never live up to her list, so why bother to count? It's not a contest anyway. Right? And the point of this blog is to slow down . . . so perhaps with my shorter list, I'm winning the contest.

I'd also like to clear up what might be a misconception: if you think Stacey was doing some sort of analogue back-to-basics return to reading on paper from books checked out from the library, you'd be dead wrong. She spent a shitload of money on this project-- that's how she rolls. She checked zero books out of the library. She bought zero hardcovers with which to adorn her shelves. Instead, she purchased the Kindle version of each book and the discounted Audible version as well, so she blew through books in an efficient digital combination; she read for about an hour or so each day on her phone, and then when her eyes got tired or she was driving or getting ready for school or working out, she listened to the audio version. High tech.

Stacey's Story of Her Badass Book list (In Her Own Words)

Every year around this time, I try to reflect on my life. I evaluate my strengths and weaknesses and think about the type of life I want to lead.

My father and I had a conversation once about how New Year’s resolutions are always so strict and limiting. They force you to place unnecessary rules and restrictions on your life.  These resolutions tell you what you can’t do and seldom leave room for any fun. We both agreed we were sick of resolutions telling us “don’t drink soda,” “don’t eat sweets,” “don’t watch as much tv” and the worst: “don’t drink beer.”

We decided that, from that point on, we would make our resolutions positive. For a full year we resolved that we would curse more — much to the chagrin of my mother. Whenever I called, my dad would bellow: “How the fuck are you?!”

Cursing more was fun. It was funny. It was easy. At the end of the year, we wished each other a “happy fucking New Year,” and I set to work picking another positive resolution.

Last year, I realized I was wasting an inordinate amount of time listening to podcasts hosted by self-congratulatory comedians boasting about the importance of their work. Of course, there would be an episode of Serial or Waking Up With Sam Harris thrown into the mix, but overall, I was not listening to anything of real academic merit. The etymology of the dick joke could not be considered high brow media consumption. Clearly, this was not a valuable use of my time.

My resolution became clear: I wanted to read more. Anytime I would normally spend idly listening to a podcast - I would instead pick up a book.

I started December 1st (I am never ready to make big life changes on the 1st of January). I find I can keep my resolutions if I have a month to ease into them, but it didn't matter for this one. I did not “ease” into this resolution. In December of 2017 I read eight books. This quickly turned my resolution into a challenge. I wanted to see how many books I could read in one year. I didn’t think I could maintain the pace of two books a week while still working full time - but I wanted to see what I was capable of.

Any time one of my friends mentioned a book they were reading, I immediately added it to my list. I scoured the New York Times and Washington Posts “Best Books of the Year.” I joined Goodreads at some point in this venture (I can’t believe it took me this long). If a book was highly rated - I was going to read it.

I did not select books based on how long they were (even though Dave would like to believe I did). Maybe next year I will do that, so I can double my list — but that doesn’t sound very appealing.

As this year draws to a close, I can say that my resolution was a success. I am incredibly proud of myself for what I have accomplished. I’ve read more this year than I have in probably the past six or seven years combined.

I have not yet decided my next resolution - if you have a suggestion, I am open... As 2018 draws to a close, I can truly say “this was a good fuckin’ year.”

(Editors note: Dave has bolded all the books he has read, and therefore approves of. Thirty of them! So many good ones, but number 80 is my favorite book I read this year).

2018 Books:

1. Lincoln in the Bardo by George Saunders

2. Murder on the Orient Express by Agatha Christie

3. Behind Closed Doors by BA Paris

4. The Power by Naomi Alderman

5. The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath

6. I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou

7. Ready Player One by Ernest Cline

8. The Relic Master by Christopher Buckley

9. The Outline by Rachel Cusk

10. Little Fires Everywhere by Celest Ng

11. Lab Girl by Hope Jahren

12. What Made Maddy Run by Kate Fagan

13. Atonement by Ian McEwen

14. Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine by Gail Honeyman

15. Hillbilly Elegy by J.D Vance.

16. Breakfast of Champions by Kurt Vonnegut

17. Tenth of December by George Saunders

18. Heroes of the Frontier by Dave Eggers

19. American Gods by Neil Gaiman

20. Cat’s Cradle by Kurt Vonnegut

21. Bear Town by Fredrik Backman

22. My Grandmother Asked Me to Tell You She’s Sorry by Fredrik Backman

23. White Houses by Amy Bloom

24. Zeitoun by Dave Eggers

25. Cemetery John by Robert Zorn

26. The Breakdown by BA Paris

27. The Identicals by Elin Hilderbrand

28. Less by Andrew Sean Greer

29. The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo by Stieg Larsson

30. This Is How You Lose Her by Junot Diaz

31. Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte

32. Lathe of Heaven by Ursula LeGuin

33. Before We Were Yours by Lisa Wingate

34. An American Marriage by Tayari Jones

35. I’ll Be Gone In The Dark by Michelle McNamara

36. Surprise Me by Sophie Kinsella

37. Sing, Unburied, Sing by Jasmine Ward

38. Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston

39. The Woman in The Window by AJ Finn

40. Drown by Junot Diaz

41. The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho

42. Artemis by Andy Weir

43. Something in the Water by Catherine Steadman

44. Then She Was Gone by Lisa Jewell

45. Calypso by David Sedaris

46. Neverwhere by Neil Gaiman

47. A Head Full of Ghosts by Paul Tremblay

48. The Word is Murder by Anthony Horowitz

49. The Wife Between Us by Greer Hendricks and Sarah Pekkanen

50. Eleanor and Park by Rainbow Rowell

51. The Last Mrs. Parrish by Liv Constantine

52. The Hating Game by Sally Thorne

53. All The Missing Girls by Megan Miranda

54. Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close by Jonathan Safran Foer

55. Station Eleven by Emily St John Mandel

56. The Nightingale by Kristin Hannah

57. The Couple Next Door by Shari Lapena

58. The Alice Network by Kate Quinn

59. The Fault in Our Stars by John Green

60. A Gentleman in Moscow by Amor Towles

61. Ask The Dust by John Fante

62. Lamb by Christopher Moore

63. Erotic Stories for Punjabi Widows by Balli Kaur Jaswal

64. Fates and Furies by Lauren Groff

65. Dear Committee Members by Julie Schumacher

66. American Pastoral by Philip Roth

67. The Shakespeare Requirement by Julie Schumacher

68. Straight Man by Richard Russo

69. Where the Crawdad Sings by Delia Owens

70. Warlight by Michael Ondaatje

71. The Rules of Magic by Alice Hoffman

72. The Hate U Give by Angie Thomas

73. This Is How It Always Is by Laurie Frankel

74. Be Frank With Me by Julia Claiborne Johnson

75. Angela’s Ashes by Frank McCourt

76. Florida by Lauren Groff

77. The Other Woman by Sandie Jones

78. Between The World And Me by Ta-Nehisi Coates

79. The Coddling of the American Mind by Greg Lukianoff and Jonathan Haidt

80. Boom Town by Sam Anderson

You're Welcome, David Sedaris!

The new David Sedaris memoir/essay collection Calypso is darker and perhaps more candid and sincere than anything he's written previous; it may be his best work (though not his funniest . ..  that would be Naked or Santaland Diaries or Me Talk Pretty One Day) but be forewarned-- you're going to deal with death and the afterlife and eldercare and mental illness and suicide . . . you'll still laugh and there's plenty of wry observations on mundane events (plus he feeds his benign fatty tumor to a bunch of turtles . . . though not to the exact turtle he wanted to feed his tumor too, the turtle with a tumor on his head because that turtle died before Sedaris could toss his tumor off the bridge) and I'm also pretty sure that Sedaris has either been reading my blog or stealing my thoughts, because his essay "Boo-Hooey" is about how he can't stand people talking about ghosts and dreams and how he does not believe in the significance of either topic and fans of Sentence of Dave know I've been writing about the same for many many years.

Ghosts, Music, White People and Black People

I am a man of reason and so-- of course-- I don't believe in ghosts, I don't believe in a spirit world, lurking just beyond what we can see and sense . . . but that doesn't mean I don't occasionally enjoy a ghost story (Hamlet, for instance) and Hari Kunzru's new book White Tears is primarily a ghost story, and the ghosts in this tale often manifest themselves sonically and they have been badly put down by the white man; if you like music and musical production, then this is the ghost story for you . . . it's about two white kids who want to find and create "authentic music," it's about race and cultural appropriation, it's about obsessive collection, money, power, desire, and oppression . . . and mostly it is a very very weird, fragmented, well-written, surreal, and slightly self-congratulatory version of the 1986 film Crossroads . . . the middle section of the book loses some momentum, but the pay-off is vivid and tragic and moving and it will connect you with the spectre of racism way down in Mississippi in a very real way (and if you want something lighter to read with a musical theme, check out this Quincy Jones interview, it's amazing).

Robert Kaplan: More Analogies!

When my wife and I lived in Syria, it made sense for me to read a lot of Robert Kaplan: Balkan Ghosts, An Empire in Wilderness, The Coming Anarchy, Arabists, The Ends of the Earth . . . then we returned stateside, bought a house, had children, and our travels to exotic overseas locales ended . . . as did my obsession with the most literary of geopolitical analysts-- because reading Robert Kaplan takes a lot of concentration, it's not like breezing through a Thomas Friedman book-- but just because I forgot about Robert Kaplan, doesn't mean he stopped writing, and I've decided to catch up: I picked up Asia's Cauldron: The South China Sea and the End of a Stable Pacific in a used bookstore in Vermont and I'm wading through it, trying to sort out analogies like this: "Whereas Hanoi is Vietnam's Ankara, Saigon is Vietnam's Istanbul."

2016 Book List

Here's what I read in 2016 (and despite reading nearly a book a week, I feel dumber than ever) and if you head over to Gheorghe: The Blog, you can see my eleven favorites . . . and if you're really feeling crazy and literary, you can check out my previous lists, but if you're going to read one book on this list, I would suggest Death Comes to the Archbishop by Willa Cather . . . I've read it twice, and I'll bet I'll read it again someday . . . anyway, here they are-- it's a little scary for me when I peruse this list, because I can't remember all that much about some of the titles, but I guess that's what happens when you read too much;

1) Trunk Music (Michael Connelly)

2) Hide & Seek (Ian Rankin)

3) Our Kids: The American Dream in Crisis Robert D. Putnam

4) One Plus One Jojo Moyes

5) Andrea Wulf The Invention of Nature: Alexander Humboldt's New World

6) Death Comes to the Archbishop (Willa Cather)

7) The Milagro Beanfield War (John Nichols)

8) Agent to the Stars (John Scalzi)

9) The Undercover Economist Strikes Back: How to Run-- or Ruin-- an Economy (Tim Harford)

10) Tim Harford The Undercover Economist

11) The Expatriates (Janice Y. K. Lee)

12) Tim Harford The Logic of Life: The Rational Economics of an Irrational World

13) Dale Russakoff  The Prize: Who's In Charge of America's Schools?

14) Charlie Jane Anders All the Birds in the Sky

15) Mohamed A. El-Erian  The Only Game in Town: Central Banks, Instability, and Avoiding the Next Collapse

16) Brideshead Revisited: The Sacred & Profane Memories of Captain Charles Ryder (Evelyn Waugh)

17) The Power of Habit:Why We Do What We Do in Life and Business by Charles Duhigg

18) Angels Flight (Michael Connelly)

19) Robert J. Gordon  The Rise and Fall of American Growth: The U.S. Standard of Living Since the Civil War

20) Tony Hillerman A Thief of Time

21) Peter Frankopan Silk Roads: A New History of the World

22) Tony Hillerman Hunting Badger

23) Tony Hillerman Listening Woman

24) Tony Hillerman The Wailing Wind

25) The Lost World of the Old Ones:Discoveries in the Ancient Southwest David Roberts

26) Roadside Picnic (The Strugatsky Brothers)

27) Chuck Klosterman But What If We're Wrong?: Thinking About the Present as if It Were the Past

28) White Sands: Experiences from the Outside World by Geoff Dyer

29) The Inevitable: Understanding the 12 technological forces that will Shape our future by Kevin Kelly

30) Annihilation by Jeff Vandermeer

31) Three Men in a Boat (To Say Nothing of the Dog) Jerome K. Jerome

32) Sapiens: A Brief History of Humankind by Yuval Noah Harari

33) Truly Madly Guilty Liane Moriarty

34) Seinfeldia by Jennifer Keishin Armstrong

35) Weapons of Math Destruction: How Big Data Increases Inequality and Threatens Democracy by Cathy O'Neil

36) Ghosts by Reina Telgemeier

37) The Walking Dead 23-26

38) The Short and Tragic Life of Robert Peace: A Brilliant Young Man Who Left Newark For the Ivy Leagues by Jeff Hobbs

39) The Nix by Nathan Hill

40) Bill Bryson The Road to Little Dribbling: Adventures of an American in Britain

41) Tim Wu The Attention Merchants: The Epic Scramble to Get Inside Our Heads

42) Colson Whitehead The Underground Railroad

43) Nicholson Baker Substitute

44) The Ocean of Life: The Fate of Man and the Sea by Callum Roberts

45) Hillbilly Elegy: A Memoir of Family and Culture in Crisis by J.D. Vance.

It Will Be Harder (But Not Impossible) to Read About Zombies During the Zombie Apocalypse

When the zombie apocalypse comes, one of the many things I will miss is the convenience of Hoopla, a free digital media platform which runs through the library, and allows me to download the newest issues of The Walking Dead on our iPad . . . you can download five books a month, so if you like the show, see if your library has this feature and read the comics-- they're darker and more expansive than the show, and as far as graphic novels go, they're easy to consume: you could real all twenty-six in six months, using Hoopla; I also recently read Ghosts, which is written and illustrated by Reina Telgemeier, and despite my vehement skepticism towards the spirit world, I enjoyed this graphic novel as well (and it's perfectly appropriate for kids, unlike The Walking Dead series, which is appropriate for no one).

Spooky Etiquette

When people at my place of work--mainly women-- are talking about contacting spirits, receiving signs from the afterlife, and decoding messages from dead relatives and deceased strangers, am I allowed to crack jokes, question their sanity, and express my very specifically skeptical feelings about ghosts and the netherworld, or do I have to pretend to believe in that stuff?

Highs and Lows of our One Night Trip to Philly

Considering we were only away for one night, our trip to the City of Brotherly Love had plenty of highs and lows:

1) listening to Steve Buscemi's audio tour of Eastern State Penitentiary was spooky and excellent-- and the kids really enjoyed the ruined ambiance, the haunting anecdotes, and the punishment cells . . . plus, I coerced my son Alex into asking me if I believed in ghosts;

2) after touring the penitentiary, we decided to eat at Bridgid's instead of Jack's Firehouse-- both are great places and Jack's is right across from the jail-- but when we got to Bridgid's, we learned they were serving brunch . . . yuck . . . nobody in my family even deigns to say the word "brunch," let alone eat it and so we turned around and walked back to Jack's and they were serving brunch . . . but this turned out to be fine, because they had regular lunch stuff on the menu as well as brunch stuff, and my kids were highly amused by the finches that kept sneaking in through the big firehouse doors and stealing cornbread;

3) on the ride to Philly we listened to stand-up comedy, something my older son has gotten into lately-- and I tried to turn him on to Steve Martin and Steven Wright, but those early comedy albums aren't recorded all that clearly and the compression is terrible so it's hard to hear the jokes and then if you turn up the volume, the applause and screaming between bits blows out your eardrums;

4) we settled on Jim Gaffigan, he's funny, my son loves him, his voice is crystal clear and his albums are not only family friendly, but he also makes plenty of jokes about hotel rooms and hotel pools, which was perfect, since we were staying in a hotel with an indoor pool;

5) just as Jim Gaffigan predicted, the hotel pool was kind of gross-- it was a billion degrees in the pool room, too hot to lounge and read, and there were some very young kids in the pool, who would have probably urinated into the water if they weren't so dehydrated from the heat;

6) my kids loved Rocket Fizz, a store full of weird candy and "gourmet" soda-- Alex got a grapefruit pop that was tolerably good, and Ian got some sweet marionberry concoction called Martian Poop, which he had trouble finishing . . . but he kept the bottle as a souvenir;

7) we had been walking all day, and we kept on walking-- we started in the museum district (we were staying at the Sheraton) and went all the way down Arch Street, through the old city, out to Penn's Landing and then down to this new spot, Spruce Street Harbor Park, which was full of food trucks and corn hole and giant chess and hammocks and live music and weird hanging lights and would have been fun, if it wasn't insanely packed with people, and so we kept on walking, to South Street and ate at a place called Nora's which had decent authentic Mexican food and incredibly authentic Mexican weather (I sat next to the little portable air-conditioner which was maintaining between 86 and 85 degrees) and I was slurping down lots of their super-spicy churrasco salsa so my balding head was covered with droplets of sweat which my son said looked like "warriors ready to do battle in a forest";

8) after ice-cream on South Street, we took our first family Uber and the driver was super nice and full of information and she arrived quickly, which was fantastic because it was starting to rain;

9) the kids were happy watching a Harry Potter marathon and I was happy to pass out at nine;

10) I was not happy to be awoken at 1 AM by my wife, who told me I needed to find a 24 hour pharmacy and get my son allergy medicine and ibuprofen, because he had a terrible earache-- I blame the gross pool-- and I was less happy when I found a Walgreens and it was closed and then I walked a long way in the rain to a Rite-Aid, and then couldn't get the Uber app to work on my wife's phone, and so I took a regular cab back to the hotel . . . the driver was indifferent;

11) the medicine worked and my son passed out, but I couldn't fall back to sleep-- probably from all the stimulus of walking the city streets late at night-- lots of sketchy folks, drunk people, and restaurant workers finishing the late shift;

12) the hotel pool was closed Monday morning, and so the hotel gym was overrun with kids-- I bailed on my workout after a few minutes;

13) we had trouble finding a spot for some breakfast food and finally settled on Dunkin' Donuts-- yuck-- and the stools were all taken and my son Alex sat on the floor and started eating his Boston creme, until we explained to him that if you're civilized, you usually don't sit on the floor of a grubby chain restaurant in a major city and eat donuts-- Alex is twelve years old, so you'd think he'd know this;

14) we had a great time at the Drexel Academy of Natural Sciences . . . it's not the Museum of Natural History, but it's still full of great stuff-- and the film on how they make the museum dioramas is worth the price of admission-- there are zero bones in those stuffed animals-- and we got to see a possum up close and personal, they are perhaps the most ugly misshapen mammal in North America (and yes I considered the armadillo in that calculation).

Meta-Dinosaurs Fight Ghosts of Dinosaur Past

For the most part Jurassic World operates as billed: plenty of dinosaurs, plenty of cheese, and plenty of eye-candy (i.e. Bryce Dallas Howard) but there is something more to chew on at the core of this saccharine Tootsie Pop of a film; the dino-based island theme park Jurassic World needs a new attraction to "reinvigorate" the patrons of the park, and-- in an aesthetic meta-parallel-- the Jurassic Park franchise needs reinvigoration as well-- and, once again, the audience needs to learn the same lesson . . . that you shouldn't tamper with mother-nature-- so enter Indominus Rex, a genetically modified dinosaur that would enjoy this Radiolab podcast; the result is a movie about movies . . . we demand more and more entertainment from the summer blockbuster, but nothing can satisfy us . . . although, the climax of Jurassic World comes pretty close: the boys and I watched the movie in Imax 3-D and the final scene which pits Indominus Rex against a T. Rex (with a few extra twists which I won't spoil) makes a larger comment about the art of the action-sequel franchise, which is an ultimately an exercise in reductio ad absurdum which can only end in parody (and not only is there a meta-theme buried at the core of this movie, but the actors actually stumble upon the old Jurassic Park when they are lost in the wilds of Jurassic World . . . and as far as the cheese goes, there was a wonderful meta-moment when Chris Pratt and Bryce Dallas Howard were looking at a number of dead dinosaurs that Indominus Rex had killed but not eaten, and I whispered to my son Alex, "he didn't eat them . . . he's hunting for sport" and then a beat later Chris Pratt turned to Bryce Dallas Howard and said the exact same words, with the exact same intonation, and my son looked at me and said "Whoa!" and I had to explain to him that movie dialogue in this sort of story was very predictable . . . also, don't sit behind me and my boys if you go to the movies-- Alex and I both have a penchant for running commentary and Alex has a hard time whispering).

Nerds Do Sports

Radiolab's Jad Abumrad and Robert Krulwich usually nerd it up each week investigating something scientific, but they've recently done two fantastic episodes on sports; La Mancha Screwjob uses professional wrestling to discuss reality, illusion, and the fascinating meta-reality that lies somewhere between the two; American Football visits the brutal ghosts of football past and speculates on the future of the sport . . . including an interview with a football mom who is firmly on both sides of the concussion issue, and her talented and gigantic eight year old son who decided to eschew the game in favor of soccer and wishes he could do some "synchronized swimming" . . . his mom's reaction to this revelation is priceless . . . both episodes are awesome.