What I read that month. Four books that left their mark.
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"Evil couldn't come from one person alone. It always came from numbers, from too many, from hate piling up with the crowds, from too many destinies orchestrating their brutal fulfillment."
I'd been wanting to discover Michaud's work for ages. This one grabbed me—dark, atmospheric, the kind of prose that gets under your skin. She writes about evil like it's a force, not just a choice. Heavy stuff but completely worth it.
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"If you want my honest opinion, she said, life without Shakespeare isn't life at all."
Fifty years of American history packed into this debut novel. Three generations, multiple families, all tangled up. What makes this one special? Porter structures it differently—it's bold, raw, unconventional. She's mapping family trees and cultural fractures at the same time.
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"Being a Jew on horseback instead of the Jew running ahead of the horses—that was nothing less than America's miraculous promise."
Jay Gladstone is filthy rich. Inherited real estate, built an empire, lives in that rarified air where money solves everything—until it doesn't. Greenland dissects privilege and power with surgical precision. It's brutal. It's satisfying.
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"If we can't believe in a story just because it's beautiful, what's the point of doing this work at all?"
Four men climb into the Alps, hunting for a dragon frozen in ice. Three are paleontologists, one is… something else. Andrea blends adventure, science, obsession. It's about belief—in stories, in discovery, in what we chase even when it's impossible.
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