For the past month, I’ve been getting served various versions of the same concept on Instagram. Reels and posts keep coming across my timeline with this quote: “Try not to think of your stacks of unread books as a TBR pile, but more like a wine cellar. You try to time the right combination of mood, energy & interest, so that you pick a book when you have the best chance of getting along with it.”
Another version of this quote, attributed to the Paris bookstore Shakespeare & Co., reads: “Thinking you have to read all the unread books on your shelves before buying new ones is like thinking a wine connoisseur should drink everything in their cellar before buying any new bottles. Some books just need a bit of shelf-time before they (you) are ready.”
And okay, is seeing this message over and over getting to feel just a bit too targeted? Yes. Is it still resonating with me? Also yes.
As the adult child of a librarian and a former gifted kid, I am guilty of accumulating books without any solid plan in place to actually, ya know, read them. Being a content creator on top of that has just meant that my attention span and ability to even find the time and energy to crack a spine has, in the not-so-distant past, been completely nonexistent.
I’ve vowed to myself that this is going to change in 2024! And I’m off to a pretty good start. I won’t give you a rundown of everything that I’ve read since last winter—mostly because I’m catching up on the buzziest titles of the past 5 years, The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo chief among them.
But I will tell you the ones that unexpectedly punched through my TikTok-scrolling mental fog and left an impression!
Many of these books, I’ve picked up from my local independent bookstore, The Midtown Scholar in Harrisburg, PA. I urge you to shop local and shop indie whenever possible. If there’s not a brick-and-mortar bookshop near you, bookshop.org is a great way to shop online and still support indies, with a percentage of your purchase going to the independent bookstore of your choice.
General Fiction
Nora Roberts, Inheritance (The Lost Bride Trilogy, Book 1)
The last time I was idly passing time in front of a new releases display, I decided to see what Ms. Nora Roberts was up to these days. I was sold on this book (#1 in a new trilogy) from the synopsis alone:
Graphic designer Sonya MacTavish is stunned to learn that her late father had a twin he never knew about―and that her newly discovered uncle, Collin Poole, has left her almost everything he owned, including a majestic Victorian house on the Maine coast, which the will stipulates she must live in it for at least three years. Her engagement recently broken, she sets off to find out why the boys were separated at birth―and why it was all kept secret until a genealogy website brought it to light.
Trey, the young lawyer who greets her at the sprawling clifftop manor, notes Sonya’s unease―and acknowledges that yes, the place is haunted…but just a little. Sure enough, Sonya finds objects moved and music playing out of nowhere. She sees a painting by her father inexplicably hanging in her deceased uncle’s office, and a portrait of a woman named Astrid, whom the lawyer refers to as “the first lost bride.” It’s becoming clear that Sonya has inherited far more than a house. She has inherited a centuries-old curse, and a puzzle to be solved if there is any hope of breaking it…
Feeling a strange pull to this plot as something I might decide to play out in The Sims (what can I say, I’m a sucker for building 18th-century mansions), I decided to give it a go. And I’m glad that I did! With its partially dual-timeline plot, Inheritance transported me smack into the coastal town in Maine in which our heroine is obligated to reside for 3 months in order to earn her…well, inheritance. The ensuing mystery is immersive, historical, and satisfactorily spooky—but the setting itself is not. Lost Bride Manor may have a ghastly name, but it’s the type of locale you just want to step through the pages and inhabit for yourself. Inheritance the best of both worlds if you like a cozy mystery with a few legitimately heart-pounding moments sprinkled in.
Oh, and there’s a cute (if not overly smutty) romance sub-plot—structured in the most “the protagonist caught her fiancée cheating and moved to an abandoned mansion in Maine so of COURSE there is” kinda way.
Is it winning any awards for dialogue? No. And be prepared for a surplus of lines where it feels like Roberts is trying to prove to you that she’s done her research on the protagonist’s chosen career, marketing design. Feel free to skim these passages in order to get to the goods. I did.
One thing I will actually caution you on: the cliffhanger ending is downright dastardly, cutting you off right on the edge of the answers you’ve desired throughout the entire book. I wouldn’t blame you a bit if you wanted to wait until book #2 (expected November 2024) to embark on this series.
That said, Inheritance was my companion through a rough couple of weeks; it was a great break from reality that checked all my boxes. You’ll find me decorating my coastal Victorian manor in The Sims while I wait for the sequel.
Get Inheritance here. Pair it with hot chocolate.
C Pam Zhang, Land of Milk and Honey
What the publisher says: “a rapturous and revelatory novel about a young chef whose discovery of pleasure alters her life and, indirectly, the world.”
What I say: the most sensory overload you’ll ever experience in a dystopian novel.
That plot follows an unnamed young chef running from a stalled career and a world engulfed in a deathly miasma. Crops can’t grow, people can’t breathe, and the wealthy are flocking to one of the last remaining “promised lands” on Earth. Here, atop an idyllic mountain, the chef’s enigmatic new employer and his visionary daughter have built a lush new life for the global elite—and are seeking to reshape the world’s future. As she navigates this new “utopia,” the chef is gradually reawakened to the pleasures of taste and feeling.
I had never read anything from Zhang before, but I’m so glad I picked this one up after hearing her speak at the Midtown Scholar last fall. It’s (perhaps counterintuitively) not a book that you can or should devour all at once. It’s a book you want to chew on—from Zhang’s stunning prose to the astonishing plot.
If you’ve found yourself wanting to eat the rich in the last few years—with raging capitalism, overconsumption, and food scarcity running rampant—this novel serves almost as a thought experiment that follows the world’s current trajectory to one possible outcome. Land of Milk and Honey demonstrates that the rich will eat no matter what, but it’s a book that lays bare their hubris and gluttony in the process.
Get it here. Pair with (what else?) a honeyed wine or mead.
Royal Reads: Non-Fiction
Gareth Russell, The Palace: From the Tudors to the Windsors, 500 Years of British History at Hampton Court
I previously knew historian Gareth Russell as the author of Young and Damned and Fair, a well-researched book on Catherine Howard, King Henry VIII’s doomed fourth wife. I was so excited to hear that he has now written, essentially, a biography of a PALACE for us to consume.
Hampton Court has served as the backdrop of royal history, tragedy, and intrigue since the days of Henry VIII, and it’s one of the top sites that I’ll recommend royally curious folks visit when they’re in the UK.
The Palace takes you inside every room at Hampton Court—the chapter titles are things like “The Haunted Gallery,” “The Queen’s Bedchamber,” and “The Orangery.” In the process of exploring these rooms, walkways, and gardens, you’ll also take a walk through the Tudor, Stuart, Hanover, and Windosr eras.
Get it here. Pair with sparkling water (you’ll need to stay hydrated for all your sightseeing!)
General Non-Fiction
Terence Dooley, Burning the Big House: The Story of the Irish Country House in a Time of War and Revolution
I picked this one up on my trip to Ireland, after I had spent a few days traversing the countryside thinking to myself, “Huh, I wonder why I haven’t seen any manor houses or estates? I’d love to tour one while we’re here.” It’s an activity that is readily available, after all, when you tour England or Scotland.
Reader…yes, I had briefly forgotten all about the Irish Revolution, which saw at least 275 grand country houses deliberately destroyed in a 4-year period. The “Big Houses” of Ireland largely belonged to the Anglo-Irish upper class and, therefore, became symbols of both Protestant and English domination in Ireland. They were also attacked so that the country’s ruling families would flee, leaving the land open for redistribution.
I’ll be completely honest, my “outsider” way of thinking was completely challenged upon realizing this connection. OF COURSE, manor houses are a symbol of oppression that wouldn’t have made it through the Revolution unscathed. As a historian and a museum nerd, though, the fact that these magnificent records of life in Ireland have been lost to us was devastating.
But today, the Irish are immensely proud of their revolution, and heritage professionals do a fantastic job of blending that legacy with the historic sites that have been preserved. Visiting Killarney National Park was a great case study; there, Killarney House (once belonging to the Earls of Kenmare) has been saved from disrepair and turned into a beautiful visitor’s center at the Park’s main entrance.
I picked up Burning the Big House to learn more about the time period from 1919 to 1923 when Irish Republicans targeted country houses, and in the process, was treated to a thoroughly researched encapsulation of the entire revolutionary period. This book is a bit more academic than I was expecting based on the cover, but I dutifully made my way through with Wikipedia standing at the ready in case I needed more context.
If you’re also interested in Irish history and heritage, check this one out here! Pair it with (duh!) a Guinness.
What have you been reading (and loving!) this year? Let us know in the comments!