Sticking in the queer, debut, and historical fiction Venn diagram overlap, I consumed Florenzer with unusual vigor. This book weaves the stories of Leonardo, Lorenzo de' Medici, and Francesco Salviati from youth through their thirties set in the bustling hub of commerce and art of Florence, Italy in the 1400s. Respectively, the primary characters are an artist and genius, a banker, and a priest. Each have complicated familial, political, and religious challenges and their stories overlap and influence each other repeatedly over the span of twenty years.

I don't often read historical fiction and I've never read about Leonardo's early years as an apprentice and then master painter. I barely knew about the immense wealth of the Medici family or the political intrigue that sprawls across Italy and the Vatican. Even though the book is fictional, I think the author, Phil Melanson, has anchored this novel in historical reality in a way that translates so well for a modern reader.

While the pile of names can be confusing at times, there's a helpful guide at the front of the book. The language ranges from very formal (and a bit Italian) to relaxed. I looked up a number of words as I went along, which is unusual for me, and also very exciting. Always one should be reading about and learning through new words!

Honestly, I didn't expect to read so much queer inflected literature this summer, but I've been loving it. A recap, nine books out of ten — getting close and I only have a couple weeks before my free time collapses:

• States of Emergency
• Things Become Other Things
• A Different Kind of Power
• The Emperor of Gladness
• The Alice Network
• Mothercare
• What My Bones Know
• The Lilac People
• Florenzer

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Milo Todd's debut novel, The Lilac People, is set in Germany before and after World War II. That timeframe evokes a lot of feelings in the queer community, but I didn't realize how potent those feelings would become when informed through a historical fiction trans and queer story. In dense, powerful prose, Milo conveys the depth of depravity the Nazis embodied, the moralistic drivers in the victorious Americans, and the resilience and joy of the queer and trans folks who existed and persisted.

I found the primary character, Bertie, to be so beautifully whole. From his pre-War joy in Berlin, tempered with fear for the future, Bertie's actions and words speak to the excitement of freedom to be oneself and associate with the best chosen family. The romance of Bertie and Sofie was suffused with longing, the dance, the headiness, so artfully described. I think that most of the main characters were written exceedingly well with clear voices. One voice that rang out is Karl, who tells his story in an absolutely brilliant chapter in his own distinct voice. 

This book does not just tell the story of Bernie, Sofie, and Karl. It's impressively researched and calls upon the remarkable archives that tell the story of Dr. Magnus Hirschfeld and the Institute of Sexual Science (which was nearly totally destroyed by the Nazis). This book, along with Secret City and it's description of the Lavender Scare, remind me of how much effort, strength, and time it takes to make progress as a society around queer and transgender rights and how fast that can be reversed during reactionary times. Unfortunately, we're in a period like that right now.

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I watched the development of podcasts in the early 2000s and spent a lot of those years avidly consuming independent and mainstream audio. When This American Life hit the podcast aggregators, I was a subscriber. Through This American Life, I got to know the name Stephanie Foo.

In 2022, Stephanie Foo published What My Bones Know a memoir about complex PTSD, in which she incorporated excellent science writing along with incisive commentary about race, media, and more. I read the book as soon as it came out, marveling at its structure, Foo's strong and unique voice, and the resonant themes. During 2020-2025, many books I read dealt with trauma, but none so completely as this one.

Cambridge Public Library hosted Stephanie Foo recently. I attended her talk, after my sister shared the information about it with me, and brought my hardback copy for her to inscribe. Like on NPR, the talk was incredibly potent and the collected audience honored Stephanie's presence. I was a blubbering mess by the time I requested she sign my book. I struggled to communicate to her just how impactful her writing is and why inscribing the book to my mother, Linda, was so important to me. 

If you get a chance to listen to the audio book of this memoir, you should! The book is so important and I recommend it wholeheartedly, for those who are identified as complex PTSD folk or, well, pretty much anyone!

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I didn't know of Lynne Tillman until I watched her discussion with Craig Mod as part of the book tour promoting Things Become Other Things. After hearing Craig's glowing recommendation of Lynne as a writer, I ended up with Mothercare on my to-be-read list. (I need to get better at logging where these recommendations come from…)

Mothercare's subtitle, "On Obligation, Love, Death, and Ambivalence", is not subtle and for good reason. In around 160 pages, the hard reality of moving from adult to adult caregiver to a parent is laid bare in a blend of understated to vivid stories. I was struck by how deftly Lynne integrated childhood recollections about her family dynamics into the account of how her mother so quickly moved toward dependence on family and caretakers and the following decade.

I found this book to be pointed, potent, and so very timely. While my parents have not suddenly changed, as they age there are fits-and-starts toward an unpredictable, but fully predictable, crisis. As a family, we know there will be surprises and hard challenges ahead. This book, with its very humanizing depiction, helps prepare not for the tiny, technical, tactical responses but for the broad, emotional, and personal.

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The Alice Network, by Kate Quinn, was quite a turn from the prior several books. A thoroughly adventurous set of protagonists make their own way — one in war and one in escaping the constrictive life of a "proper girl". The two main characters are visited in alternating chapters, and across a time gap of around thirty years, as their paths eventually intertwine. The character development is strong, the sense of place in history is even stronger, in this story set in the time of the Great War (1914-1918) and post-World War II (1947-1949).

This book was recommended to me by my sister Kelly and is in the to-be-read pile of my sister Kartika. I had to put this book down multiple times to breathe, steady myself, and confront discomfort from some of the very visceral scenes. I couldn't recommend this book to young readers, but I heartily recommend it for older readers who seek adventure, complex situations, and historical liveliness.

It's been about fifty days since graduation weekend and it's been a wild period. After finishing the last book, my digital "hold" was resolved and I began reading The Jakarta Method (what a fantastically human book). Unfortunately, my reading pace was too slow and the book auto-returned to the library and made it to the next eager reader. I was about half-way through, so I'll end up having to acquire another copy to finish off. Very impressed by the book so far. 

I had heard about Dame Jacinda Ardern's book-talk at a local theater through Explain Boston to Me (a podcast by a Philadelphia native who has moved to the greater Boston area). While the tickets were expensive, I snagged two and really enjoyed being surrounded by happy people who all shared admiration of Dame Ardern's approach to leadership and connection. Her memoir, A Different Kind of Power, is so well structured and displays her empathy so well. 

This morning, I completed, in a blur of tears, The Emperor of Gladness by Ocean Vuong. This book is an exploration of empathy (interesting recurring theme), aging, age, dementia, war, and the chosen family. The novel, set in Connecticut (an interesting link to Craig Mod's Things Become Other Things), follows a more standard narrative structure than Vuong's striking On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous, but is imbued with such care for language, for people, and for story that I feel it overcomes the form. 

In writing this mini recap, I've found I completed the following four out of ten:

• States of Emergency
• Things Become Other Things
• A Different Kind of Power
• The Emperor of Gladness

Two are very nouveau literary, one a classic memoir, and a more experimental memoir. I think what's next will be far more run-of-the-mill.

As I approached graduation, I felt like I'd be somewhat aimless during the summer — perhaps to an extreme — so I came up with the goal of reading around ten books this summer. Over the past couple of years, I've indulged in book buying and my physical "to be read" pile is now substantial. There are at least two books I've started and put on pause due to school and work.

This is my first full weekend post-graduation. I'm reading Chris Knapp's "States of Emergency", published by Unnamed Press. The book is challenging, set in a charged time, full of overtly literary language, and evokes a malaise that's hard to describe.

I've been running a simple tech stack on some personal/shared servers with friends for years, but got out of the discipline of blogging as I fell headlong into my undergraduate and then graduate studies. Now, with the changes in routines, I may have more capacity to write more!