It's been since the pandemic that I wrote an installment of "What I've Been Reading."
With some time to spare in transit recently, I've been catching up on my reading. And with the gift-giving season upon us, I thought it would be fun to share. Maybe I can spark an idea for that hard-to-shop-for person on your list.
Though be warned, books implicating torts are not necessarily best if your aim is to lighten the mood at the family holiday table. Fortunately, there's a range here: nonfiction and fiction, spiritual journey, family epic, fable, and fantasy. Take your pick, and enjoy!
What I've Been Reading, 2025 Edition
Mariah Blake, They Poisoned the World: Life and Death in the Age of Forever Chemicals (2025). Nonfiction/investigative journalism. If you've somehow been feeling good about the world, this book will take the wind out of your sails. The earth is so poisoned with forever chemicals such as PFAS (see John Oliver's 2021 show) that they can be found even in the blood of newborns in remote parts of the world. Innumerable burgeoning health complications, from cancers to strokes, might be linked to our inadvertent consumption of these unnatural poisons. And we're not making a priority of their elimination from the environment, if even we can figure out how to do that. Aggravatingly, the companies that produce this stuff seem to be following the playbook that Big Tobacco wrote in the 20th century, from denial to self-serving "science," to negotiated immunity.
Investigative journalist Mariah Blake, who has written for The Atlantic, among other prominent publications, artfully weaves together the story of transnational industrial impunity with the real lives of people and communities devastated by illness. The book is important, terrifying, and saddening.
Imbolo Mbue, How Beautiful We Were (2021). Fiction/contemporary novel. Imbolo Mbue is a Cameroonian-American writer based in New York. Her second novel, this epic revolves around a family from a fictional African village that is overrun by a large American oil company. Extraction poisons the environment, sickening and killing children and adults. The story sees the family migrate to America and play a part in a revolt back home. One strand of the story traces (realistically unsuccessful) litigation against the oil company under the alien tort statute in the United States. Mbue's writing is beautiful, and that kept me turning pages—as it did in her first novel, Behold the Dreamers (2016).
As much as I wanted to adore this book, I found the story more superficial than insight-bearing. That might be on me; I came to the book already familiar with both the impact of western corporatocracy on Africa and the Big Oil playbook on environmentalism, besides the plot line of alien tort litigation. The book earned ample acclaim, perhaps justifiably for bringing these themes to popular attention. What I did like, and liked most, in the book was the perspective of family elders later in the story. They watched, helpless and with mixed emotions, as younger generations in the States were absorbed into the very culture that had devastated an ancestral homeland the youth did not remember.
Charlie Jane Anders, The City in the Middle of the Night (2019). Fiction/science fiction. I had wanted to read this science fiction book since I heard an NPR review in 2019. The novel tells the story of two different cities, one in the clutch of oppressive governance, and the other dangerously close to anarchy; and of two very different protagonists, coming from different sides of the tracks, as it were. They live on a planet where humans can survive only in the temperate zone between, symbolically, a light side and a dark side. The protagonists have disparate appetites for the revolutionary movement they both are drawn into. Meanwhile, the human population on the planet regards the monstrous indigenous creatures as mere animals. Yet one of the protagonists, thought to be exiled to die, discovers the creatures to be sentient telepaths.
The themes are familiar: the seemingly counterproductive yet lately resonant human affection for authoritarianism; the privileged protagonist who falls for the proletarian revolution; the forbidden love of opposites; and the seeming monster that secrets a superior morality. In the end, I'd say I was disappointed. The book was long, which meant going a long way for trite themes that have been explored better already in science fiction classics.
Eddie Izzard, Believe Me: A Memoir of Love, Death and Jazz Chickens (2017). Nonfiction/memoir. If you've never heard of Eddie Izzard, this book might be a heavy lift. But if like me, you're a fan, and you're keen to understand what makes Eddie Izzard's remarkable mind work the way it does, this book is worthwhile. I listened to the audiobook and recommend that. It's best to hear Izzard tell her own story. (Gender-fluid Izzard prefers feminine pronouns, but says not to get hung up on it.) And because the book is often funny, there's nothing like a comedian's own timing. I like to listen to David Sedaris books for the same reason. But this audiobook is especially good because Izzard ad-libs a bit and artfully incorporates her many tangent footnotes into the flow of the narrative. The audiobook therefore comes off with the same structure as Izzard's stand-up, seemingly meandering yet slyly serpentine. My erudite friend
Ethan Dazelle and I saw Izzard live at the Vets, for her "Force Majeure" show, in Providence, Rhode Island, in 2015. The show was as memorable as it was mind-boggling; I wished I had had footnotes then, for all that went over my head.
This is not Izzard's first book. But this book stands apart from her humor books as a deeply personal memoir. The audiobook well captures not only Izzard's sharp wit, but the emotional highs and lows of her life story. The first-person account of how her career came to be is fascinating, especially alongside her coming around to express publicly her sexual identity. Izzard included her television experience with The Riches, which I was pleased to hear. I always have thought that that show, from the 20-aughts, was profoundly underrated; it's often described today as "ahead of its time."
Stories of Izzard's parents and her relationships with them are moving. Curiously from a tort perspective, Izzard's father worked in accounting for BP. That's
why Izzard was born in Yemen, a fact I knew, though I did not know why. The family's moves to Northern Ireland, Wales, and then England in Izzard's childhood perhaps give a clue to Izzard's breathtaking consciousness of language, though do not fully explain her easy multilingualism. In the end, nurture does not explain the full measure of Eddie Izzard's peculiar kind of savant; nature must have been a quiet collaborator.
Dave Eggers, The Eyes and the Impossible (2023). Fiction/fantasy. This book by Dave Eggers, whose breakthrough memoir, A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius (2000) was a Pulitzer finalist, won the 2024 Newbery Medal. So that's right: this is a children's book. Technically. My favorite book I read (or listened to) this year, The Eyes is the first-person narrative of a dog, Johannes, who lives in a park. To say more would deprive you of the joy of discovering Johannes's story, and of joining him on his journey of discovery. I will say only that Johannes is never wounded and does not die at the end; my heart just wasn't up for another My Dog Skip or Racing in the Rain, much as I loved those books.
Heartbreaking Work already demonstrated that Eggers is one of those rare souls endowed with old wisdom, inexplicably defying the bounds of lived perspective. In The Eyes, he puts that wisdom to work to generate a wholly unique fable: the sort of story that can be interpreted and appreciated differently in different phases of a reader's life. I found the book simultaneously amusing and deeply moving; I expect the young cousin to whom I gifted the book will find the same, though for entirely different reasons. I'm always reluctant to describe Heartbreaking Work to someone; rather, I say, you just must read it for yourself. Well, in a fresh and inventive new way, Eggers has done it again, this time for all ages.
The print version of The Eyes features beautiful illustrations by Shawn Harris. However, I listened to the audiobook, in which the gifted Ethan Hawke, yes, that Ethan Hawke, brought Johannes to brilliant life. A sequel, The Eyes, the Fire and the Avalanche Kingdom, is available for pre-order on January release.
Neil Gaiman, Norse Mythology (2017). Fiction/ancient mythology. Gaiman opens this book by explaining his great affection for Norse mythology and his desire to retell it himself. And that's what the book is, a collection of Norse myths. They're enjoyable stories, and all the better in the characteristically lyrical style that has earned Gaiman a loyal fan base.
It turns out that most of what I thought I knew about Norse mythology comes from the Marvel universe, and some from Netflix's excellent three-season Ragnarok. Those fictions are good on their own merits, but they perpetuate some popular misconceptions. As Gaiman explains in the introduction to Norse Mythology, one key misconception in the popular imagination is the idealization of Thor. In the real myths, Thor was kind of a meathead. Gaiman's stories capture that. Marvel and Ragnarok get right that Loki is not so much evil as "complicated." I especially like Gaiman's stories because they fill out the character of Odin. The Allfather is the character who should be idealized, the truly deific hero of Norse mythology, who gets short shrift in contemporary adaptations as past his prime.
Overall, there's much to enjoy here. The Norse myths after all articulate a whole and fully functional world vision. The world of the Norse gods stands on its own and does not require the multicultural contextualization that contemporary fictionalizations are eager to impose.
Nabeel Qureshi, Seeking Allah, Finding Jesus: A Devout Muslim Encounters Christianity (2014). Nonfiction/religion. Obviously, this book won't be everyone's cup (nor three cups) of tea. It's Nabeel Qureshi's intimate firsthand account of his conversion from Islam to Christianity. The book was recommended to me by a Christ-committed cousin who has worked as a missionary in places in the world where doing so is dangerous. A Christian myself, I'm predisposed to appreciate the conversion narrative, and I did. But I'll say that, notwithstanding my predisposition, I enjoyed and appreciated Qureshi's story from a simply human interest perspective. He describes a journey of spiritual yearning and growth; his changing relationships with family and friends in the course of that journey; and along the way, his cultural experience as a Pakistani-American, son of a U.S. Navy officer, especially in the aftermath of 9/11.
Qureshi became a medical doctor, but devoted his life to Christian apologetics. He completed master's degrees at Biola, Duke, and Oxford, and he became a favored speaker on the university circuit, promoting peaceful interfaith dialog. In 2010, he and associates were arrested in Dearborn, Michigan; police alleged they disturbed the peace while answering questions from Muslim teens. A civil rights lawsuit by the arrestees drew exoneration and an apology from the city. Qureshi was working on his doctorate at Oxford when he died of stomach cancer in 2017, at age 34, only a year after diagnosis and two years after the birth of his daughter (Christianity Today).
After Seeking Allah, Qureshi published two books in 2016: Answering Jihad: A Better Way Forward and No God but One: Allah or Jesus?: A Former Muslim Investigates the Evidence for Islam and Christianity. There also is a video study series associated with Seeking Allah, Finding Jesus.
Not directly related to Qureshi's book, but another book in the genre of religious nonfiction that I read this year with a group of Christian academics, which book I do recommend and might be of interest relative to current events, is Peter Beinart, Being Jewish After the Destruction of Gaza: A Reckoning (2025). Now a journalism professor at CUNY, Beinart, who is Jewish, has been a New Republic editor and Atlantic contributor. He writes compellingly on the inevitable incompatibility of Netanyahu war policy with the teachings of Hebrew scripture.
Happy reading, and happy new year. Maybe humanity will do better in 2026. Nothing is impossible.
