My July and August in reading

Given how much I was traveling this summer, I’m amazed I managed to read so many books. Eleven in two months is pretty good.

Raw Dog: The Naked Truth About Hot Dogs by Jamie Loftus

Back in May, I had the pleasure of attending the Louisville paperback release event for Loftus’ memoir of traveling around the country with her now ex-boyfriend trying as many hot dogs as possible/comprehensive history of The Most American Food™, complete with our own hot dogs catered by Toasty’s. I’m a fan of her many podcasts, which are both informative and funny. Her book was the same. A perfect Independence Day read.

Rosewater by Tade Thompson

I picked this up at a book exchange earlier this year, mostly because I liked the cover. As it turns out, I liked the story, too. I’m not always a sci-fi girl, but this Nigerian tale of psychic government agents and alien biodomes with mysterious healing powers definitely piqued my interest. I had no idea that this was the first novel in a trilogy—which is a compliment. I’d be happy to read the next two books, but the ending of this one was solid enough that it can stand on its own.

The Loved One by Evelyn Waugh

Given my interest in death and dying, I was intrigued by this 1948 novel that satirizes the U.S. funeral industry. A love triangle between lowly pet cemetery worker Dennis Barlow and two employees at the illustrious Whispering Glades cemetery—up-and-coming mortuary cosmetologist Aimée Thanatogenos and senior mortician Mr. Joyboy—this novel was, indeed, funny. But Waugh hates his characters, and it shows. He hasn’t a shred of sympathy for them, which made the reading experience somewhat unpleasant. Don’t get me wrong—these characters are by no means heroes. But satirists like Edith Wharton prove that you can mock your characters without despising them, which I find a little more interesting. Anyway, The Loved One was fine. Glad I read it, but probably wouldn’t read it again.

A Feast of Putrid Delights by Valentina Rojas

What if The Bear were absolutely disgusting? If that sounds up your alley, this novella is for you! Antonia hasn’t been able to sleep since surviving a nightclub attack, and her insomnia certainly isn’t helping with the stress of opening a new restaurant with her best friend. Will a mysterious new street drug called Cloud help her? Spoiler alert: NO!! Prepare yourself for paranoia and rot.

The Faithful Executioner: Life and Death, Honor and Shame in the Turbulent Sixteenth Century by Joel F. Harrington (narrated by Jame Gillies)

I was surprised when this library hold came in—I’d requested it so long ago that I’d completely forgotten. But it was, as it turns out, a very pleasant surprise. I enjoyed this exploration not only of how one sixteenth century executioner, Meister Frantz Schmidt, went about his job, but also his quest to ensure his children were able to lead a more respectable life. I was wholeheartedly rooting for this man who’s been dead for hundreds of years. Grab a copy and join the medieval executioner fan club.

My Ex, the Antichrist by Craig DiLouie

Presented as an oral history, DiLouie’s novel tells the story of superstar Lily Lawless, front woman of pop punk legends The Shivers—that is, until she turned herself into the cops for murder. The book traces the history of the band back to its origins, where it all started with Lily and her ex-boyfriend Drake Morgan. Ex for a lot of reasons, but mostly because he’s the literal Antichrist. This was a fun novel, and if you’re the type of Millennial who spent a lot of time at Warped Tour, I think you’ll especially like it. The Catholicism aspect threw me off a bit. As someone raised Catholic, I felt like these alleged Catholics were not acting like Catholics. Catholics aren’t even that into the Antichrist. It’s more of an Evangelical thing. But putting all that aside, it was an entertaining read.

Little Rot by Akwaeke Emezi (narrated by Adepero Oduye and Chukwudi Iwuji)

I am convinced that Akwaeke Emezi is one of the most gifted writers on Earth. Everything they write is incredible, no matter the genre—and Little Rot is no exception. This psychosexual thriller that takes place in the Nigerian underworld has everything: queerness, sex parties, high-speed chases, corrupt religious leaders, murder, and then some. Which is not to suggest that this book is fun, exactly. It’s misery on misery, the characters falling deeper and deeper into pits of their own making. But it was suspenseful enough that I couldn’t stop listening. And the sex scenes were hot, except when they were horrifying. You should absolutely pick it up.

Too Poor to Die: The Hidden Realities of Dying in the Margins by Amy Shea

I was lucky enough to snag an early copy of this book, and it was excellent. In a series of essays, Shea explores how the United States treats its unclaimed dead—those who either have no relatives to lay them to rest, or whose relatives can’t afford to do so. These may not be the people you’re imagining. She also weaves in her own personal experiences—learning about indigent burial cemeteries from her amateur genealogist father, volunteering to perform foot care at a homeless shelter. Don’t miss the index poem at the end!

Saint Sebastian’s Abyss by Mark Haber (narrated by Richard Ferrone)

In grad school, I was assigned a book by Austrian writer Thomas Bernhard called Correction, which I ended up enjoying very much. Saint Sebastian’s Abyss reminded me of Bernhard’s work. It’s told from the perspective of one navel-gazing art historian who details his long friendship and subsequent falling out with another navel-gazing art historian who is now on his deathbed, both of whom are completely obsessed with and have based their entire careers on a fictional painting called “Saint Sebastian’s Abyss.” The long, rambling, repetitive sentences convey both the narrator’s paranoia and his need for self-preservation—and they betray his foolishness. This book is easily one of the funniest I’ve read all year.

The Antidote by Karen Russell

I’ve been reading Karen Russell’s work for years at this point. She has such a gift for magical realism. That said, I wasn’t in love with her latest novel. On Bluesky I described it as “a Wizard of Oz-tinged fantasy reimagining of Dust Bowl Nebraska that asks us to remember what we forget about our role in empire and climate change,” which is accurate and also one of my best book summaries to date. But it was almost as though Russell didn’t trust the setting and characters to tell the story on their own—or perhaps that she didn’t trust readers to get the message. The moral of the story was a little too insistent, weighing the rest of the story down. Parts of it were still beautiful and strange. I just wish she’d let those parts take the lead.

Klausen by Andreas Maier (translated from the German by Kenneth J. Northcott)

This is the second book I’ve read this year that reminded me of Thomas Bernhard’s Correction! Hot Bernhard Summer! Anyway, this novel opens in one of the best possible ways, which is that you know a bomb is going to go off by the end. Like, a literal bomb. Then the rambling story follows everyone in the small town of Klausen—located in northern Italy but with strong German heritage—in the days before the explosion so you can learn how and why it happens. The ending is anticlimactic, but satisfying. By that point, you expect it to be anticlimactic anyway.