Deborah Mason

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A memory palace is a memorization technique used by figures as diverse as Cicero, international memory champions and the late, great Sherlock Holmes. Practitioners visualize placing images representing information they want to recollect in a familiar setting that they can revisit whenever their memory needs a nudge. The Memory Palace: True Stories of the Past, by award-winning podcaster and screenwriter Nate DiMeo, however, is a more intimate and complex edifice than any mnemonic device. Instead of facts and figures, DiMeo’s memory palace is inhabited by the moving true stories that illustrate how human beings throughout history, whether famous, infamous or unknown, felt the same emotions and had the same imperfections that we have and humans will always have.

Like DiMeo’s podcast of the same name, The Memory Palace’s stories—numbering nearly 50 in this volume—are briskly told, varied, unexpected and often paradoxical, giving us a sideways view of human nature. William Mumler, a 19th-century con artist photographer who stumbled upon a technique to make “ghosts” appear behind his subjects, gave genuine comfort to spiritualist Mary Todd Lincoln as she grieved the death of her child. William James Sidis, a boy genius who, at age 11, gave a Harvard lecture on the implications of the fourth dimension, could have been an academic celebrity, but instead sought seclusion to pursue his passion: collecting streetcar transfers. Carla Wallenda, the last surviving child of the founders of the Flying Wallendas high wire troupe, witnessed over several decades the gruesome deaths of her father, husband, cousins, aunt and uncle—but until her death at the age of 85, never felt so alive as when she was on the tightrope.  

DiMeo ordered the stories in no particular way, and he suggests that The Memory Palace could be a “dipping book.” But there’s a benefit to reading it in order: In his final seven stories, he seamlessly interweaves episodes from his family’s lives in a way that illuminates both the individuals chronicled in his “cabinet of curiosities” and the project of the book and podcast as a whole. Readers will feel a shiver of recognition and understanding—making a second or third visit to DiMeo’s memory palace both irresistible and gratifying.

The Memory Palace collects stories from Nate DiMeo’s award-winning podcast about historical people—famous and unknown alike, all breathtakingly human.
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Famous for the Thursday Murder Club series, Richard Osman has inaugurated a new series with We Solve Murders (10.5 hours). Amy Wheeler, a professional bodyguard, and her father-in-law, Steve, a retired police investigator, stumble upon a money smuggling scheme involving ChatGPT and murdered social media influencers. With all the energy of a Carl Hiaasen novel, We Solve Murders also has the dry wit and well-defined characters of Osman’s earlier books.

Audie Award-winner Nicola Walker is a superb narrator whose exquisite comic timing makes We Solve Murders an engaging audiobook. Walker resists the temptation to play comic characters broadly, and instead gives even minor characters individuality. Her portrayal of Rosie D’Antonio, the world’s second-bestselling author (after Lee Child), is a terrific blend of world-weary wisdom, generosity and killer amounts of tequila. Walker similarly teases out the nuances of Amy and Steve’s relationship, leading us up to an outcome not only believable but inevitable.

Read our starred review of the print version of We Solve Murders.

Audie Award-winner Nicola Walker is a superb narrator whose exquisite comic timing makes the audiobook of Richard Osman’s We Solve Murders terrifically engaging.
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Mina’s Matchbox (8.5 hours), by award-winning author Yoko Ogawa, is a magical coming-of-age story centered on two girls on the brink of adolescence: sturdy, pragmatic Tomoko and her fragile, artistic cousin, Mina. Told from Tomoko’s point of view and set in Ashiya, Japan, in 1972, Mina’s Matchbox is touched with fairy-tale enchantment, depicting a family in quiet crisis with delicacy and wonder.

Stephen B. Snyder’s translation is lyrical and humorous, and it’s enhanced by Nanako Mizushima’s nuanced narration. Mizushima conveys Tomoko’s awe towards her cousin’s wealthy, enigmatic family, expressing both her extreme awkwardness and her intense loyalty to Mina. Mizushima’s depiction of Mina is equally convincing, revealing both Mina’s frailty and her boundless heart. The result is a delightful audiobook that captures the everyday magic of friendship and love.

Read our starred review of the print version of Mina’s Matchbox.

Mina’s Matchbox is a delightful audiobook touched with fairy-tale enchantment, depicting the friendship between two cousins in 1972 Japan.
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Carrie Lowry Schuettpelz, an enrolled member of the Lumbee tribe and a former advisor on homelessness and Native American issues in the Obama administration, loves data. When she noticed that the number of people self-identifying as “American Indian or Alaska Native” on the U.S. Census has more than doubled since 2000, while the number of enrolled members of federally recognized tribes has remained low, she wanted to know why. In The Indian Card: Who Gets to Be Native in America, Schuettpelz not only details how these records hide a history of racism, genocide and erasure, but also how they continue to affect Native people.

The federal government has recorded the number of Native Americans throughout its history, with varying degrees of accuracy. Before ejecting Natives from their land and forcing them on death marches to reservations, the counts were expansive. But when records were used to mete out some kind of reparative benefit, the government’s definition of “tribe” or “Indian” was contracted to exclude as many people as possible. These rules also dictated tribal policy: To receive recognition from the federal government, tribes must have a constitution with similarly restrictive qualifications for membership.

Schuettpelz uses archival records to divulge insights into America’s disastrous history with Native people, while her in-depth interviews with present-day Indigenous Americans reveal how their lives and identities continue to be shaped by that history. For example, the Meskwaki constitution requires its members to trace their ancestry patrilineally. Tricia Long, one interviewee, is “the epitome of what it means to be part of a tribe,” yet she cannot pass her Meskwaki membership onto her older son because his father is white. Her younger son, whose father is Meskwaki, is entitled to tribal benefits like “land rights on the settlement, per capita payments, access to health care, housing assistance.” Her older son is entitled to none of this. 

Schuettpelz herself has questions about her own identity. She is enrolled as a Lumbee member because one of her grandparents was Lumbee, but she did not grow up in the Lumbee community. Is she, she asks herself, Native enough? Her questions are open-ended, and her responses are invitations to further conversations in this powerful and important read.

Carrie Lowry Schuettpelz’s powerful The Indian Card considers the history of Native American tribal membership and its impacts on people today.
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National Book Award-winning author Ta-Nehisi Coates’ 2015 book Between the World and Me, and his 2017 essay collection, We Were Eight Years in Power, exposed the impact of slavery and Jim Crow on our understanding of America’s origins and its present. Written with clarity and forensic objectivity, his revolutionary insights into our society challenged us to not only acknowledge this past but also actively redress its lasting harms. His new book, The Message, is personal and introspective; four related but standalone essays chronicle Coates’ own revelations about the role stories play in shaping and misshaping our perceptions of the world.

Coates argues that writing is both an artistic and a political act: Authors must write with clarity and create narratives that explain and expose the world with urgency—and they must examine the stories we have been told as well as those we tell ourselves. How do authors extract truth from history, separate myth from fact? Coates travels to the Senegalese island of Gorée, which is prominent for its perceived significance in the slave trade. He acknowledges it as a “mythical site of departure”: According to scholars, very few enslaved people actually passed through its infamous Door of No Return. But on the island, Coates had a remarkable epiphany about the ways in which the myth-making about Gorée as “sacred, a symbolic representation of our last stop before the genocide” has obscured the lasting impact of colonialism on Africa. Still, that myth holds unique power: “We have a right to our imagined traditions, to our imagined places,” Coates concludes, “and those traditions and places are most powerful when we confess that they are imagined.”

His journey to East Jerusalem and the West Bank brings questions about objective storytelling to the fore, in an essay both heartrending and hopeful. Coates courageously allows the reader to see the confusion, grief and anger he feels observing firsthand how Palestinians are relegated to second class citizenship in a segregated society, all while Israel is hailed as “the only democracy in the Middle East” by the West—a situation which he finds all too familiar. Coates reports learning that illegal settlements steal Palestinian land. He shares meals with both Palestinians and Israelis, including a former Israeli soldier who tells him that Israeli forces subject Palestinians to a “constant threat of violence,” with methods that include home invasions targeting known innocents. Coates reflects on how Palestinian writers are seldom allowed to contribute their voices, and an “elevation of complexity over justice” shapes the narrative about the region.

Searching and restless, The Message is filled with startling revelations that show a writer grappling with how his work fits into history and the present moment. Coates believes that writing can change the world. Achieving this mission is arduous, vital and necessary. These masterful essays will leave readers convinced that Coates is up to the task.

Ta-Nehisi Coates wrestles with the weighty responsibility of being a writer in The Message, a powerful collection of essays.
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Despite the widespread passage of legislation limiting the ability of trans kids to access hormone treatment or other gender-affirming care, there has been little light shed on the lives of the young people these laws target—until now. In American Teenager: How Trans Kids Are Surviving Hate and Finding Joy in a Turbulent Era, Nico Lang, an award-winning nonbinary journalist who has spent a decade reporting on LGBTQ+ issues, documents the hopes, sorrows and joys experienced by seven American trans kids.  

American Teenager is not an attempt to portray a “typical transgender teenager.” Lang’s diverse subjects live in South Dakota, Texas, West Virginia, Alabama, Florida, Illinois and California. Lang spent weeks living with each of the seven families and conducted in-depth interviews with the teens, their relatives and friends. The result is a series of complex, sometimes searing and always sensitive portraits of young people whose right to existence currently hangs in the balance. These kids do have things in common—their resilience, their exhaustion and, happily, their accepting and loving families—but Lang recognizes their individuality as well. 

Several of the kids who live in red states are already fierce advocates for LGBTQ+ rights. Ruby, a young woman from Houston, Texas, testified in her state legislature against a bill that would require trans student athletes to compete on school sports teams that reflect their sex assigned at birth. Despite her efforts, the bill was eventually signed into law. Loved by her family and her church, blessed with a mother who fights passionately for trans rights, and planning a career in costume design, Ruby seems unstoppable. But she still couldn’t stay in Texas. She’s transferring to a California college and leaving behind a state whose legislators deny her humanity. 

On the other hand, there’s Clint, a 17-year-old Muslim teen who lives in Chicago and has no desire at all to be an advocate, testify in front of legislators or attend marches. Clint demands what so many of us want and have: a private life that he can live on his own terms, where his gender is irrelevant to his opportunities. Perhaps Clint’s stubborn refusal to give up his autonomy in the face of repression is the most powerful response there is. “In the end, it’s everyone’s own life,” he tells Lang. “You’ve got to live it the way you want.”

Nico Lang’s powerful American Teenager closely follows seven transgender young adults, rendering complex, searing and sensitive portraits of their lives.
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The Transit of Venus (15.5 hours), Shirley Hazzard’s 1980 novel and winner of the National Book Critics Circle Award, tells the story of two Australian sisters, Grace and Caroline Bell, from their arrival in postwar England to their middle age. It is a nuanced and richly detailed exploration of love, power, fate and remorse that gets better with each rereading—and is now available for the first time as an audiobook.

Hazzard’s writing is at once deceptively simple and surprisingly complex, full of wordplay, literary and scientific allusions, and sharp-eyed observations. It could have been tempting for a narrator to exaggerate the puns and games, to make sure that the reader “gets it.” Happily, acclaimed actor Juliet Stevenson beautifully balances wit, irony and compassion to mirror the subtle richness of Hazzard’s novel. The result is a performance that invites the audience to listen again and again to this remarkable book.

Acclaimed actress Juliet Stevenson’s performance is a beautifully balanced blend of wit, irony and compassion that mirrors the subtle richness of Shirley Hazzard’s remarkable 1980 novel, The Transit of Venus.
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Grief can be mistaken for mere sadness. As a result, those who are grief-stricken may feel pressured to easily come to terms and find closure—and the sooner, the better. In From the Ashes: Grief and Revolution in a World on Fire, labor journalist Sarah Jaffe describes it as a complete rupture; it is both sorrow and rage. In her radical vision of grief, Jaffe insists that it becomes part of the mourner. It tinges the past, invades the present and forms the future. Grief insists that we are intertwined, complex beings, and not commodities or cogs—and thus, she asserts, grief defies the pulverizing effects of unbridled capitalism.

In this steadfastly personal book, Jaffe explores her own grief after the death of her father. But the death of a loved one is not the only source of grief she explores and honors. From the Ashes recounts the grief felt by refugees forced to leave their homes; workers whose livelihoods and communities were destroyed when they became unprofitable; “essential” workers who were overworked and underprotected during the COVID-19 pandemic; and survivors of climate change disasters. Their grief is intense, and reading about it can be overwhelming.

But, paradoxically, this book about sorrow is profoundly optimistic. Jaffe believes that grief, with its terrific rage and energy, can fuel revolutionary changes in our lives, our communities and our world. For example, Mohamed Mire, a refugee from the civil war in Somalia, joined forces with other Somali workers in Minnesota and forced Amazon to the bargaining table. When Margaret Thatcher closed coal mines after a bitter and violently repressed strike, Kevin Horne and other miners became health care workers, recreating the solidarity and community they had lost. After Hurricane Maria ravaged Loiza, Puerto Rico, and it became apparent that the government would not provide aid to the survivors, the women of Taller Salud, a women’s health nonprofit, worked to provide assistance and to demand justice for the people of their community.

Detailed, lucid and richly sourced, Jaffe’s book provides many more examples of these transformations, which offer compelling evidence that we can generate healing, justice and equity “from the ashes.”

Detailed, lucid and richly sourced, Sarah Jaffe’s From the Ashes shows how the transformational power of grief can fuel revolutionary change.
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In Long Island (9.5 hours), Colm Toibin wastes no time before lobbing a hand grenade into the happy, suburban life of Eilis Lacey, the heroine of his critically acclaimed novel Brooklyn. The resulting shock waves push her out of her home in Lindenhurst, New York, and back to her mother’s home in Enniscorthy, Ireland, where she confronts past regrets, present secrets and, perhaps, future happiness.

Oscar-nominated Irish actress Jessie Buckley does an excellent job of switching from Eilis’ lilting Irish accent to the distinct Long Island accent of her Italian American in-laws, creating nuanced, complex characters on both sides of the ocean. Moreover, Buckley honors the many pauses and silences Toibin builds into the story, allowing the reader to fill those spaces with the weight of the characters’ hesitance, hope and fear.

Read our review of the print version of ‘Long Island.’

Oscar-nominated Irish actress Jessie Buckley gives nuanced voices to Eilis Lacey’s Irish relatives and Italian American in-laws in the audio version of Long Island, Colm Toibin’s sequel to Brooklyn.
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In White Poverty: How Exposing Myths About Race and Class Can Reconstruct American Democracy, MacArthur fellow and activist-pastor William J. Barber II makes the logical but nonetheless surprising point that, even though poverty has a disproportionately high impact on Black Americans, there is a vastly greater number of white people living in poverty, leading lives of unacknowledged despair in plain view. Yet we often equate poverty with Black communities, and as a result, poverty and all its ills are seen as a “Black problem.” 

Barber argues that this equation is based on four racist myths that deliberately divide poor white people from poor Black people, and prevent them from uniting against the policies and structures that favor the rich and powerful. These myths—among them that all white people share common ground, regardless of economic and social status—both justify and perpetuate our malign neglect of the poor. His examination of each myth, from its cause to its effect, exposes that what we were told were fundamental truths about poverty were actually dog whistles and racist tropes. 

But, important as this lesson is, Barber’s most powerful message is that if these myths are dismissed, and if poor white people recognize that they have far more in common with poor Black people, they could unite to demand living wages, access to health care and safe housing. Barber calls this union a “moral fusion,” and his descriptions of the power that is unleashed when Black and white poor people discover their common ground are the most hopeful and powerful passages in White Poverty. For example, a queer, poor, white woman named Lakin gave testimony at a Black church about the debilitating isolation of white poverty and the fear it engenders. By exposing the wounds of white poverty, Lakin created a space for empathy and understanding—and action.

White Poverty resonates like a powerful sermon. Like Jeremiah, Amos and other Old Testament prophets, Barber condemns the injustice perpetrated on the poor. And also like them, Barber offers a hopeful way forward to a more just and equitable society.

In White Poverty, William J. Barber II urges poor white and Black people to unite against the policies that favor the rich and powerful.
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Women run everywhere: up mountains, on the beach, along city roads and country paths. They run for their health, to compete, for the joy of feeling lungs, heart and legs work in harmony. Indeed, it is hard to imagine a world where women don’t run. But in Better Faster Farther: How Running Changed Everything We Know About Women, sportswriter and essayist Maggie Mertens reveals that the history of women’s running was never smooth. Instead, it was like a hurdle race, but one where the obstacles became taller and harder over time.

As Mertens reports, nearly everything conspired against women who wanted to run. It took generations of stubborn, passionate athletes simply to get to the starting line. Mertens opens the book describing the erroneous reportage on 1928’s first Olympic women’s 800-meter race, which claimed that the competitors dropped like flies at the finish line. Male-dominated sports associations barred competitions for women. Doctors declared that running would cause irreparable damage to their reproductive organs. 

If a woman wanted to run, she was deemed either dangerously masculine, seriously misguided or mentally ill. Better Faster Father profiles dozens of athletes who faced these charges. Before Bobbi Gibb snuck into the 1966 Boston Marathon and became the first woman runner to complete it, her parents had sent her to a psychiatrist to “cure” her of her passion for running. When runners like Mary Decker and Mary Cain developed osteoporosis, sports scientists blamed feminine frailty, rather than ill-informed coaches who made their protégés starve themselves.

Women ran marathons and broke track records, but, as Mertens details, new barriers kept being erected, supposedly to protect women’s opportunities, including denying participation of trans and intersex athletes. Transgender women were and are targeted, even though their performance on the track is comparable to cisgender women competitors, and the “advantage” of testosterone remains unproven. Genetic testing, invasive physical exams and testosterone tests were and are performed on women deemed too fast, too muscular, too competitive to be female. 

And yet, women run. Like Jasmin Paris, who holds the world record for the Spine Race, a grueling 268-mile ultramarathon up and down the Pennine mountains. And Paula Radcliffe, who controversially kept training up until the day she gave birth—and won the 2007 New York City Marathon nine months later. Every woman you see jogging in the park or sprinting at a track meet. All prove that women can, indeed, run. 

For centuries, women were discouraged from running. Better Faster Farther chronicles how and why they ran anyway.
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In The Alternatives (11 hours) by Caoilinn Hughes, geology professor Olwen Flattery, despairing at the state of the world, goes AWOL from her job and her family. Rhona, Maeve and Nell, her brilliant, squabbling and stubborn sisters, track her down to rescue her—which is exactly what Olwen doesn’t want.

The actors in this full cast production do an excellent job of translating The Alternatives into an audiobook. Each sister has a subtly different Irish accent: Rhona’s clipped academic tones, Maeve’s London-tinged lilt, Nell’s American inflection, and Olwen’s rich and loamy voice, as beautiful and weary as the world she mourns. When the novel shifts to a play format in later chapters, the actors revel in the sharp dialogue and insightful stage directions. Teetering between comedy and tragedy, The Alternatives will leave the listener wondering about the fates of these compelling characters.

Read our review of the print version of The Alternatives.

The actors in this full cast production of Caoilinn Hughes’ The Alternatives revel in the sharp dialogue of the brilliant, squabbling and stubborn sisters.
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For over a decade, health care journalist Shefali Luthra has been reporting on reproductive rights for Kaiser Health News and The 19th. In Undue Burden: Life and Death Decisions in Post-Roe America, she details the public and private chaos that commenced when the Supreme Court overruled Roe v. Wade in its 2022 decision, Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Organization.

Immediately after the Supreme Court issued Dobbs, the right to a safe and legal abortion was no longer protected by federal laws. Even before then, however, many states had been chipping away at reproductive rights, making access to abortion care nearly impossible and Roe almost meaningless. After Dobbs, state legislatures began passing increasingly draconian statutes illegalizing abortion. With clarity and passion, Luthra describes how Dobbs put American lives, health and autonomy at risk.

Luthra does an excellent job explaining the complex legal and political history of the anti-abortion movement, and her analysis of the impact of Dobbs is meticulously documented. But at the heart of Undue Burden are the stories of dozens of patients who sought a safe abortion in a post-Dobbs world. She focuses particularly on four people to illustrate the major themes of her book: Tiff, a high school student whose inability to access a timely abortion in Texas changes her life indelibly; Angela, a single mom who knows that another baby will make it impossible to provide her young son with a stable future; Darlene, whose pregnancy threatens her life, but whose Texas doctors can not give her the care she needs; and Jasper, a trans man from Florida forced to make a crucial decision before the state’s 15-week deadline kicks in.

Luthra also gives voice to the providers whose stories are rarely heard. We meet nurses and doctors hopping on and off planes to provide safe abortions to pregnant people desperate for their help, and doctors whose colleagues have been harassed and even murdered. Their dedication to their patients is both remarkable and inspiring.

In her empathetic book, Luthra capably zooms in on private stories and zooms out on the laws that have irrevocably changed lives, proving the feminist adage: The personal is political. Undue Burden is a rigorous and compelling condemnation of the unnecessary pain and sorrow Dobbs left in its wake.

 

Shefali Luthra’s Undue Burden is a rigorous and compelling condemnation of the unnecessary pain and sorrow Dobbs left in its wake.

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