Tuesday, July 28, 2026

Cool Machine, by Colson Whitehead: Yuppies and Gangsters vs. Ray Carney

Bold move by Mr. Whitehead to title this last novel in the Harlem Trilogy after HIMSELF. 😎

I kid, of course. “Cool machine” is a reference to Ray Carney, Whitehead’s protagonist through these three Harlem novels spanning three decades. 

But man, Colson Whitehead really is cool. The dedication for this novel, is “for New York Fuckin’ City” and there is no Acknowledgements section (conspicuous by its absence), as if Whitehead is saying, “You all should be thanking ME.” πŸ˜‚

And thank him, I do. This third novel takes places in the 1980s in a city infested with two problems of differing weight, depending on who you ask: Yuppies and criminals.

New York is changing rapidly. At the top, money is flowing and new buildings are going up faster than a New York minute. At the bottom, drugs are everywhere, crime is rampant, and all the mayor seems worried about is a new "pooper scooper law" that requires dog owners to pick up after their pets. 

Ray Carney, furniture salesman and sometimes fence, and his associate Pepper, bodyguard and crook, get up to their usual schemes, but this time with a decidedly 1980s flavor. Shady art dealers, the mafia, a reemergent thief who once faked his own death, and even Jesse Owens's gold medal all figure prominently in Cool Machine. 

What you notice about this novel is not just the power of Whitehead’s storytelling, but also the meticulousness of his detail. From ads on the subway to headlines in the newspaper to real-life crooked politicians like Donald Manes, we slide so easily into 1980s NYC. What a time to be alive!

One note on Cool Machine: This is very much the third novel in a trilogy, and therefore, it is really helpful to have more than a fleeting memory of the first two novels. You'll be fine to understand what's happening plot-wise here, but Whitehead often references past events and characters. So the reading is richer the more you remember about the first two books. (Thank you, reading journal!) 

Cool Machine, like the first two novels, is essentially a triptych of three novellas. The first two here are breakneck pace, and then Whitehead slows down with the last one -- lingers and reminisces a little. But they're all great, and on the whole, this is my favorite of the Harlem Trilogy. Man, what'll this guy do next? 

Tuesday, July 21, 2026

Tenderness, by Rowan Beaird: "I’ve always been fascinated by cults"

Woohooo! One of my favorite novels of the year is out today! Rowan Beaird's sophomore effort Tenderness is a terrific summer read -- a wedding weekend novel wrapped in a cult novel with a slow-burn mystery to boot. 

It's summer 1976 and Shay is marrying her fiancΓ© Andrew on a remote island off the coast of Virginia. Shay has recently "escaped" from the New York City chapter of the Synanon organization, and everyone on the island for the wedding (especially Andrew's rick blue-blood East Coast family) is wondering if she's really free and clear, or if the cult will try to mess up her wedding. 

Synanon was a real cult -- started as a alternate substance abuse treatment facility called Tender Loving Care, it soon grew more nefarious -- and Beaird weaves these real historical details into her novel. Just wait until you read about The Game. 😬

Back in June, I got to talk to Beaird over Zoom for a piece for the Chicago Review of Books. The interview's out today also! In addition to being a wonderful writer, Beaird is a generous literary citizen and a fantastic interviewee. Head over to CHIRB at the button below to check out the piece! 

 

Here's an excerpt:

Rowan Beaird’s sophomore novel, Tenderness, begins with an absolute banger of a first line: “Shay was no longer in the cult, but still, it made her wedding guests nervous that she was bringing them to an island.”

So right off the bat, the wedding guests aren’t the only ones who are nervous. We readers are too! Is the bride actually free of this cult? Is the cult going to interfere with the wedding? Where is this island and how does one leave, if one must? It all adds up to a biting sense of unease that engages us immediately: A master class in how to do a first line.

Thursday, July 16, 2026

Should You Read Yesteryear? Here's Why I Did

In Haruki Murakami's novel Norwegian Wood, a character explains to another why he doesn't read contemporary fiction. Instead, he only reads books published at least 30 years ago, "If you only read the books that everyone else is reading, you can only think what everyone else is thinking."

That, of course, is bullshit. 

It's a nice little bromide (BRO-mide lol) to sling around (mostly by beanie-wearing dudes πŸ˜‚) to emphasize what a freethinker and discerning reader you are. But it doesn't stand up to scrutiny.

And so with that as preamble, I need to tell you that, yes, I read Yesteryear. Yesteryear IS the book everyone else is reading. A  lot of people love it. Many don't. But almost everyone has a very strong opinion.

I read it because I wanted to know what everyone else is thinking, not because I wanted to think what everyone else is thinking.

Look, we read for a lot of reasons. To be entertained, mainly. But also, to learn. To distract ourselves from the persisting horrors. Etc.

At least once (and often more) a shift at the bookstore this spring and summer, someone has come in asking for Yesteryear. They also often ask if I've read it. So, another reason to read is simply for cultural literacy. I wanted to part of the conversation. I wanted a right to an opinion.

My opinion: The novel's based on an interesting premise, but it is not a great novel. Deeply cynical and more than a little sad, it's purposefully designed to provoke. And I almost never like novels like that. 

But because I didn't like it, discussing (being part of the conversation!) with readers who did has been really fun. (It's also been fun to commiserate with other readers who didn't like it.😎)

Here's one example of a conversation: At the Chicago Review of Books, my friend and colleague Sara Cutaia and I discussed the novel in the second installment of Critics in Conversation. Sara is a sharp reader and fantastic writer, and we managed to disagree with civility. Check out the conversation here:

Whether you loved or hated Yesteryear, you'd have to agree, it's gotten people talking. And people talking about books is almost never a bad thing. As long as they can think about them in their own ways. 

Tuesday, July 14, 2026

Man Overboard!, by Kathleen Rooney: "Men really will do literally anything instead of going to therapy"

Let's start here: Kathleen Rooney is the author of one of my favorite pieces of writing this year: Her essay, "Why Criticism Continues to Matter: Book Reviews and Our Literary Community" at Chicago Review of Books (which she originally delivered as her opening remarks at an AWP panel) is astoundingly inspiring. I can't recommend reading it enough. Always remember, "Art is the transmission of the human spirit."

Now, Rooney is also the author of one of my favorite novels of the year, too! Man Overboard! is a funny, inventive fiction about a fellow examining his life whilst treading water in the Gulf of Mexico. 

You might be thinking, okay, is the sole plot of this novel really a guy who drunkenly fell (or jumped?) off a cruise ship and is forced to have a good long think? Is this really going to play for 200 pages? 

Yes. Yes it does. It plays magnificently. Man Overboard! is a voice-y, mischievous novel. And if brevity is the soul of wit, it's a very soulful one, as well. But as much as we're amused on a line-by-line basis, what's really going on here? 

Our man overboard is a dude named Kick Kilpatrick, a bro-tastic 33-year-old personal trainer, flirt, and former swimmer who also has a penchant for clowning. Literally. His great dream in life (you know, should he survive his current predicament) is to continue his education at clown college, but he's kept this as a secret from his family and friends, worried about their opinions. Kick has layers, multitudes. But his big thing is that he and older sister are still coming to terms with their mother leaving the family with no reason and no contact since Kick was 10. 

So as Kick floats, he ruminates about his life, sometimes stopping to have a chat with various senteinent sea creatures (or maybe that's just in his head) -- a dolphin, a sea horse, an octopus, etc. "No more distractions to be had," he thinks. "I have no choice but to be really present." 

But why this novel works so well and why I REALLY loved it is that we begin to see Kick as a stand-in for all men these days. The book's kind of a long and elaborate joke (because the best jokes are social commentary at their core) that all men need is 20 hours in the ocean by themselves to figure their shit out. But it's funny because it's true! Wouldn't we be better off in society as a whole if men were forced to do a little more self-examination? To interrogate themselves? To try to figure out why they are the way they are? To come to terms with past trauma? To get some clarity on why they do what they do?

Will Kick get that clarity? And even if does, will it be all for naught if he sinks quietly into the sea? Or will he be rescued, now armed with a whole new insight about his life and marching orders from himself to himself about changes he needs to make?

I read this so quickly, and you probably will too. Rooney is just so fun to read! Cannot recommend more highly. A perfect summer read. 

Thursday, July 9, 2026

In Defense of Reading: A Few Thoughts on The Atlantic's Hit Piece

Apparently, the age of reading is over, or so screams The Atlantic's rage-baity August cover. The cover story itself is headlined thusly: "The End of Reading Is Here." Both of these headlines are, of course, purposefully provocative. The Atlantic knows what it's doing. They want to stir us up. They want to create a commotion. And a commotion they have created. 


Honestly, the piece is solid and I would encourage you to read it. The author, Rose Horowitch, cites all the statistics and studies we've seen before -- yes, fewer adults read for pleasure now than even 20 years ago. Yes, many kids these days have trouble extracting information from and summarizing complex texts. Yes, we're in age where it's easier to ask ChatGPT and get wildly inaccurate information than it is to read an article. So yes, there are definite cracks in the foundation of our literate society.

I went into the story with my hackles up because of the rage-baity headlines. And then about two-thirds of the way through reading the piece, I fired off this Note on Substack. I didn't want to still be mad at it, but I was. If the story is meant as a warning, good on you The Atlantic. But the tenor of the story actually does match the headlines: Reading IS over now and forever, it argues. And there's nothing we can do to stop the descent into dumbassery. 

Of course, that's absurd. Reading is not over. We are not at the end of reading. And in addition to rejecting the general premise, there are also several parts of the piece that hit my brain sideways. So below, I included some excerpts of the article that sore-thumbed me. As in stuck out. 

Sideshow Bob from The Simpsons famously recognized the irony of going on TV to decry it. I also think it's funny to give you short snippets of a nearly 10,000-word article purporting to herald the end of reading. But let's agree to move on and enjoy each other's company. What do you say?


The books that people do read are simpler than they used to be. New York Times best sellers today have sentences that are about one-third shorter than they were a century ago. Longer sentences aren’t inherently better. But their former ubiquity suggests an age when Americans had the inclination and ability to read serious works of literature.

This is kind of snooty paragraph, isn't it? Horowitch argues that in 1958, Doctor Zhivago, with its complex sentences and even more complex plot, was the bestselling book of the year. Last year, it was Sunrise on the Reaping, by Suzanne Collins, a book already part of an established series with simple sentences and a straightforward plot. Lots of teens and GenZers are reading not just this book, but tons of YA books. And apparently that's a harbinger for the end of reading? Wait, what? I thought the problem was teens AREN'T reading. Maybe it's just that tastes have shifted, as they naturally do. What if reading is just changing, not going away? 


Trump is our first postliterate president. It is difficult to imagine him being elected leader of a country where information is primarily spread through text.

Literally nothing about these sentences is true. Trump himself may be postliterate (or never was in the first place) but that doesn't mean the rest of us are. And this so-called postliteracy is only one of about 23,328 reasons Trump won (the second time). Were we also postliterate in 2016? 


Reading books is a workout for the attention span. The more you read, the easier it is to read, and the more you’re rewarded with new understanding. Eventually the process is more pleasurable than it is challenging.

Agreed on all counts here. But this is true for just about anything -- running, writing, developing any virtuous habit. Maybe the issue, then, isn't isolated to reading. Maybe the larger issue is teaching young people to find things they love and to convincing them of the value of continuing to do them. 


Writing is the way people figure out what they think, and how to convey those thoughts to someone who doesn’t already share them. Writing is hard because the writer is learning. If AI eliminates the challenge, it also eliminates the learning. Early studies have suggested that this is exactly what happens when people use AI to write. The process is easier. The product is often better than what someone could compose on their own.

BARF. The product of AI writing is often better? Maybe my head is firmly buried in the sand here, but let me just say definitively: No it's not. AI writing is not better. What AI does ISN'T actually writing, to be clear. Also, this paragraph makes it seem like AI is inevitable. AI is not inevitable. I liked this paragraph a lot, until those last two sentences. 


By some measures at least, books continue to thrive. Last year, print-book sales were higher than they were a decade ago. Barnes & Noble opened more than 60 new stores. Almost 400 independent bookstores sprung up in 2025. Substack has seen an explosion of subscriptions for long-form writing. Celebrities such as Dua Lipa and Reese Witherspoon have used their fame and influence to launch wildly successful book clubs. Audiobooks have become a billion-dollar industry.

"By some measures at least..." LOL! This whole paragraph, which is near the bottom of the story, is just the tip of the iceberg of evidence we could offer for reading and reading culture's popularity. But it feels like just a tossed-off way of "both sidesing" the argument she's so carefully crafted until this point. Also, independent bookstores don't "spring up" as if someone just waved a magic wand. Minor detail, I know, but word choice here is very important. 


The notion of a popular literary figure appearing on the cover of a print newsweekly read by millions of Americans is impossible to imagine today.

Taylor Jenkins Reid was on the cover of Time last May. πŸ™„


In the years since—I’m not quite sure when—the habit slipped. The change was subtle. I became busier. I started scrolling on my phone before bed instead of reading. My attention began to wander every few pages. What did it matter if I read less? No one was checking on my progress. And the books would always be there. I could pick them up later.”

Horowitch says she used to love reading, but now doesn't...or just doesn't do it as much. If I were Horowitch's editor, I would've deleted this paragraph with such extreme prejudice that the paragraphs around it would've quivered in fear. This paragraph, which appears near the end of the piece, makes it seem like the whole article is one long justification for why Horowitch herself has stopped reading. Anecdotal evidence is evidence, but not convincing evidence. 


So, in conclusion, are we squarely now in a "postliterate society," as the article claims? No. No we are not. Do we have some work to do? Yes. Yes we do. So let's do it. Let's read books!