I had a good reading month. Lots of fun things, although a couple of the novels read slowly. (Meaning I had to savor every word. Oh, woe is me!) I did finish a crappy mystery anthology. It was the one I was reading at UNLV during lunch, although a number of students ended up co-opting my lunch as the semester progressed. Lots of good discussions, very little reading. Not that it mattered. When I did get a chance to read, I was disappointed, so I’m not recommending that here.
Got introduced to some marvelous playwrights and some fascinating theater history as well. Also had to wrestle with more bad writer behavior from some of them. I’m going to include two, one amazing woman and a man with a difficult history.
Fewer articles than usual. Maybe I just wasn’t in an article-recommending mood.
So here’s April’s reading. It’s quite a cornucopia.
April, 2026
Canfield, David, “Love The Sinner,” The Hollywood Reporter, February 11, 2026. This is an interview with Ryan Coogler, written before the Oscar ceremony. It’s worthwhile to see how one of the most creative artists in film approaches story, imposter syndrome, and business negotiations. He got an amazing deal from Warner Bros. last year. About it, The Hollywood Reporter says:
Driven by both the movie’s themes (Sinners) and the evolution of his own career, Coogler negotiated to have Warner Bros. return the rights to him 25 years after release — an uncommon, if hardly unprecedented, arrangement that nonetheless sparked endless debate about its merits both for him, despite his strong track record, and for an embattled Warner Bros.
And yet, he pulled it off. Ask and see what will happen. That’s the art of negotiation. Now, read the article.
Carter, Ally, Only The Good Spy Young, Little, Brown and Company, 2010. I continue to work my way through Ally Carter’s Gallagher Girls series, which takes place at a boarding house for spies. Things are getting real by this, Book 4. I found it a bit distressing, because no one trusted a character that had been set up as a good person earlier in the series. I truly did not know if the earlier impressions were correct. (Not giving spoilers here.) So the book is effective, and even though I read these late in the day, hoping not to stay up late, I ended up staying up late to finish. It’s a good series, but start with the first book.
Carter, Stephen L., The Emperor of Ocean Park, Vintage Contemporaries, 2002. I’ve been planning to read this novel for nearly 25 years. But the cover put me off—or something did. I’ve read other books of Carter’s and liked them. Then I picked up a later work, and saw a mention that it was tied to this one, and thought, “Okay, time to read this book first.”
I’m glad I did. It was a deliberately slow read. (John Grisham’s blurb calls it a legal thriller. Um, no. It’s a legal meanderer.) Mostly it’s a family saga, beautifully written, with characters so vivid they leap off the page. My favorite is our protagonist, Talbot Garland’s son, Bentley, who is only three. I’m guessing that Carter’s son was three at the time the book got written, because this three-year-old sings off the page–all the good and bad things about three-year-olds are here, delightfully so. The love that Talbot has for his son is the best thing about the book, which also shows that no matter how much you love your children, the way you live your life can have an unforeseen impact on them. Bentley makes it to the end, but that charming three-year-old eventually turns four in a different circumstance.
Circling around all of this is the ghost of Talbot’s father, a judge who was nominated to serve on (it seems) Reagan’s Supreme Court, until a scandal that happened in the middle of his hearings brought him down. Rather like Robert Bork, only if Bork had been Black, adding an entire racial component. The judge dies under what some believe to be mysterious circumstances and there’s quite a bit of drama around fake FBI agents and detectives and a university that seems…well…familiar.
The only problem I had with this book is that it felt normal. At the time it was published, it must have been shocking. A corrupt judge that close to the court? Murder? People being uncivil in government, lying about who they are? The book almost seems prescient.
I really, really enjoyed the time I spent with the book and miss visiting it now that I finished.
Grynbaum, Michael M., Empire of the Elite, Simon & Schuster, 2025. Well, I have two ugly covers on this list, and this is, by far, the ugliest. However, the book is fascinating. Empire of the Elite is the history of Condé Nast, from its start 100 years ago or so to now. If you’re a writer who has been at this for more than two decades, back when the New Yorker and Vanity Fair were actually important magazines, you might want to read this. Not just for the dishy (but sourced) gossip, but for the reason that you—a member of the Great Unwashed who did not hang out in rarified circles—could never succeed over the transom. Just the amount of money spent to maintain the illusion of taste and power is breathtaking, even in 2026 terms.
Dunno about the rest of you, but I’m thrilled that we do not live in this curated world any longer. Still, the book itself is quite the publishing education.
Johnson, Georgia Douglas, A Sunday Morning in The South, University of Illinois Press, 2024. Play written in 1924/25. Sadly, while I had heard of a number of writers from the Harlem Renaissance, like Langston Hughes and Zora Neale Hurston, I had never heard of Georgia Douglas Johnson. She was exceedingly influential, holding salons and working with younger writers. This play, which is one of her anti-lynching plays, is a gut-punching read. I’d love to see it performed. The book, which is not where I read the play (we got an excerpt from a different book), contains two states—a Black church version and a white church version. I do hope you read this, and when you do, realize that it was a contemporary play, not a historical one. She was dealing with a very real issue 100 years ago, and doing so powerfully.
The play is set in a family kitchen near a church. The music filters in as the grandmother cooks breakfast and talks with her grandchildren. The action is startling and much-too-true. The play’s characters are rich and her writing is amazing, so that you can visualize the show easily while reading the script.
Odets, Clifford, Waiting for Lefty, 1935. I couldn’t find an ebook version, so I linked to a Grove/Atlantic version from 1994. Another political play. Like A Sunday Morning in the South, this feels too on point for where we are in 2026. (Sigh) This is a play of a union meeting—written before Waiting for Godot. Lefty is a union leader who might authorize a strike vote against a taxi-cab company. While everyone waits, they talk about the reasons they need to be paid more.
The structure of the play caught me. Little vignettes in the middle have just as much power as the play overall. I’m still thinking about the format.
Odets himself is a controversial figure. He, along with Elia Kazan, named names in the 1950s blacklist era. There were reasons they did so in the way that they did, but it didn’t play well with the blacklisted authors. (Or others, for that matter.) As we were studying this, I kept thinking, Why do I know his name? so I looked him up after class and realized why I did. It’s fascinating to have the hindsight on a lot of these writers. We also dealt with Bertold Brecht this month, and wowza, was he a piece of work. Still thinking on all of this…
Schmitt, Preston, “How To Win A Nobel Prize,” specifically “Mr. & Mrs. Lederberg,” On Wisconsin, Winter, 2025. When the idiots in the Trump administration started cutting funding for universities (and continue to cut funding for science. Bastards.), most universities have found ways to fight back.The University of Wisconsin is using its alumni magazine to point out how significant the research is, was, and can be. On the was side of the equation is this article, about all the Nobels the university has won. Normally, I wouldn’t point this out, but there is a very sad middle to the entire thing. The only woman on the list, Esther Lederberg, did not win a Nobel. Her husband did in 1958 for work they did together. In fact, she’s the one who made the breakthrough discovery, not him. Take a look at this, please, and do what you can to make sure that things like this never happen again.
Score, Lucy, Mistakes Were Made, Bloom Books, 2026. I forgot that, when I preordered this, I ordered the Amazon special edition, planning to get the regular paperback later. I ended up with, bar none, one of the ugliest books I’ve ever seen. Click over and take a look. Whoever designed it apparently loved yellow. The book screams at you from across the room. I also forgot, until just now, that Lucy Score is an Amazon-exclusive ebook writer, and was picked up by Bloom Books for her paperbacks only. So I’m linking to Amazon so that you can get the ebook. Frustrating as hell.
The book arrived this month, just as I was thinking I needed something light. This is light and funny. Score can write situations that are completely unbelievable, but work. And her dialogue sparkles. There was one too many iterations of will-they-won’t-they, but I was committed. This, in theory, is about an agent who moves to a small town to deal with her one and only client. Yeah, that happens. So suspend your disbelief.
Some good stuff here about living with ADHD, about forgiveness, and about the way lives can be destroyed in a single moment. So behind the humor is some good, if tough, stuff.
