As I write this, we’re just a few hours past the United States bowing out of the 2023 Women’s World Cup. I’m sad about the loss, but I’m hopeful that the team will come back stronger next time. It wouldn’t be a terrible thing if someone else won, I don’t think. Japan have done it before, in 2011, but they’re playing so well at this tournament that I might just have to root for them. Sweden are perennial contenders, Spain play beautifully, Colombia would are tremendous fun. I would love to see any of them make a deep run. It’s been a fantastic tournament so far. I hope you’ve been watching! Or at least reading while the games are on?

If you have been watching, drop me a line — the links are in the sidebar — or follow me on The StoryGraph if you just want to think about books. As ever, I’m happy to hear from you.

The Book of the Month:

We Don’t Know Ourselves: A Personal History of Modern Ireland, by Fintan O’Toole

It is impossible to know how to pick a starting point when you’re writing a history, isn’t it? Beginnings are difficult to define when you can always point back, back, and further back. Fintan O’Toole takes his own birth in 1957 as the starting point for his history of modern Ireland, a history that charts growth, change, and a litany of horrors across the second half of the 20th century. We Don’t Know Ourselves is an astonishing catalog of the events that have shaped Ireland as the country has grappled with its past in order to define its future. At times, the book is difficult to read. The pain of the abortion debate is very familiar and the massive scale of the abuse perpetrated by Catholic priests and institutions in the name of morality is impossible to comprehend. At the same time, O’Toole describes hope and positive change, a nation trying to become better in a myriad of different ways, bit by bit. We Don’t Know Ourselves isn’t like any other history I’ve ever read — I would love a book like it for every country.

The Rest:

Weaving Sundown in a Scarlet Light: Fifty Poems for Fifty Years, by Joy Harjo

Wonderful poetry by a wonderful writer. Highly recommended.

Ducks: Two Years in the Oil Sands, by Kate Beaton

Hard. Hard, hard, hard to read, but a really beautiful and incredibly written graphic memoir of Beaton’s time working in the Alberta oil fields. I read it in an evening because I couldn’t put it down.

Tales of the City, by Armistead Maupin

A beautiful collection of little intertwined and ongoing stories about the formation of a found family in 1970s San Francisco. It got more serious than I expected toward the end, but I can’t wait to read more of the series. Each chapter reads like a tiny play, a scene in miniature, and Maupin knows exactly when to drop the reader into the action and when to pull away and move on to something else. I read this on a whim and I’m so glad I did.

What to Listen for in Music, by Aaron Copland

Aaron Copland does a lovely job explaining the fundamentals of musical structure. The book isn’t quite fit for the layperson, but Copland really does try to make it accessible. First published in 1939, What to Listen for in Music holds up pretty well, too, with Copland acknowledging that his writing applies primarily to music written in a Western tradition and pointing to the sophistication of other musical traditions. Watch out for his recommendations of recordings, though — they’re not as up to snuff as the rest of the book.

The Cosmopolitans, by Sarah Schulman

A beautiful, thrilling, funny, and contemplative retelling of Balzac’s Cousin Bette. Schulman is willing to let her characters be frustrating and selfish, but she never loses sight of the things that make them sympathetic as well. I picked this up on a recommendation from a coworker and I adored it. Set in 1950s Greenwich Village, The Cosmopolitans focuses on the friendship between Earl (who is a closeted Black man) and Bette (a queer white woman). Their friendship fractures, with Schulman taking time to explore the intersectionalities of their respective identities and the needs that bring them together and apart.

Symphony of Secrets, by Brendan Slocumb

Not every thriller needs action or spies. Symphony of Secrets is a thriller with a focus on… a classical music mystery? It’s a lot of fun! I won’t spoil anything other than to say that everyone gets their just desserts.

The Glass Hotel, by Emily St. John Mandel

Is there a story here, really? St. John Mandel provides a series of interlocking narratives that pretty clearly echo the Bernie Madoff scandal, but doesn’t tie them together as strongly as she might have. Regardless, I liked it enough that I absolutely plan to read more of her work.

The Spare Man, by Mary Robinette Kowal

A whodunnit in spaaaaaaaaaaace! Plus a great turn by Gimlet the dog and a thoughtful depiction of disability. Kowal’s Lady Astronaut series is great and The Spare Man is just plain great, too.

The Old Drift, by Namwali Serpell

Narrated by a swarm of mosquitoes, The Old Drift is the multigenerational story of three families in Zambia. It’s really, really, really great — except for the bits with the mosquitoes and then the ending, which gets very weird. I don’t regret reading it, though. When it’s great, it’s really, really, really great and its nuanced depiction of Zambian society is wonderful. Definitely worth putting up with the ending falling apart a little.

Supporting Students on the Autism Spectrum: A Practical Guide for Academic Libraries, by Kerry R. Walton and Rachel M. McMullin

I think I’ve mentioned that I’m a librarian? Anyway, this book is a lovely practical guide to making libraries and library teaching more accessible for students and library users on the spectrum. It’s really nice to have a book with some practical suggestions for actions to make libraries more inclusive. A very good place to start with this work!

The Book of Three, by Lloyd Alexander

Lloyd Alexander’s Prydain Chronicles series for middle-grade readers gets better as it goes along, I think, but The Book of Three is a strong beginning for the Welsh-inspired fantasies. I adored Alexander’s work as a child and I’m happy to find that it holds up pretty well.