“Read the best books first, or you may not have a chance to read them at all.” -Henry David Thoreau

2025 was another year where my life was enriched substantially by the books I spent time with. Some of these prose companions were merely diverting company, with which I flouted Thoreau’s advice! But several left a lasting mark on my head and heart. Here’s the list of those, with a few reflections on why I found each such a pleasure.

• How To Know a Person: It’s a common observation in the US that we’re currently experiencing an epidemic of loneliness, as civic group and church attendance is down and adults report having fewer friends than at earlier points in history. David Brooks offers a prescription for that diagnosis: cultivating the skills and practices that help one get to know others. These range from asking better, open-ended questions to listening with full attention, to creating comfortable places for people to speak honestly and openly of their thoughts and feelings. Notably, this book helped me understand the importance of small talk, which I’d previously held to be valueless filler for people who weren’t ready to have real conversations. A surprisingly rich read, and well worth the time if you value the people around you and want to enrich those relationships. Thanks to my brother for the recommendation.
• A Gentleman in Moscow: recommended by my friend Alice and my brother again, this novel chronicles Count Alexander Rostov’s confinement by the Bolsheviks over the span of decades to the Grand Hotel Metropol. It’s a measure of Amor Towles’ skills that what sounds like an awfully dull premise becomes wholly charming, largely due to the delightful character of the count, who navigates his loss of freedom with kindness, cleverness, and warmth. Seeing him gently subvert those who have punitive power over him is a constant pleasure. This was the first of Towles’ work that I’ve read; I look forward to drinking deeper from that well. 
• Die With Zero: while I didn’t buy into all of Bill Perkins’ thinking in this book, he did manage to make me rethink my relationship with money in some pretty substantial ways. His foundational premise: since you “can’t take it with you,” use what money you have to maximize the experiences you have, remembering that various seasons of life better support various sorts of activities and experiences. Do adventure travel when your body is still in good enough shape to do so! Give an inheritance to your kids while you’re still around to see them enjoy it! And ideally, plan in such a way that you don’t end your life with a retirement account full of money from which you haven’t seen any benefit. A worthwhile provocation that came at a good time for me.
• Ship of Theseus: This was one of two books that I took a great deal of pleasure in showing to people in person over the course of the year. At first glance, it appears to be a well-worn library book, written by VM Stratka, an author I’d never heard of. But when you crack it open, you quickly begin to find marginalia — mostly handwritten notes from one Stratka scholar to another who evidently passed the book back and forth over the span of a few years. And then other artifacts begin to fall out from the pages of the book: postcards exchanged by the two, articles from newspapers, and even secret decoder rings that can help you decipher hidden messages in the novel’s text. As it turns out, this whole thing is actually an experimental collaboration between JJ Abrams (creator of the TV series Lost and many films) and novelist Doug Dorst. I’d checked a copy out from the library when it was released, but wasn’t able to manage to plumb its depths in any meaningful way during the too-brief two-week loan. So this year I finally dug into it in earnest and thoroughly enjoyed the experience. Wholly unlike anything I’ve read before, if you appreciate stories told in unusual ways, mulling over puzzles, or just like showing off curiosities to your friends, grab a copy! (Note: the Hardcover edition can still be had new for less than $30; I’m flummoxed as to how the publisher puts such a complicated artifact on the shelves for that price.)
• The Anxious Generation: Jonathan Haidt’s previous book The Righteous Mind was one of the best things I’ve read for helping me understand how my friends across the political aisle could possibly think the things they do. This book was hugely helpful in understanding the impact that social media has on young people. Haidt takes a premise that I initially found a bit overblown — that use of social media at a young age directly causes lasting and substantial rises in anxiety, self-esteem issues, and other mental health issues — and makes a thorough and well-researched case to support that idea. (I say this with a bit of regret, as I was an early enthusiastic adopter of social media, and encouraged my own kiddos at a young age to try it out. Knowing what I do now, I would navigate that much differently.) Notably, this book was one of the primary drivers for Australia’s recently implemented social media ban for those under the age of 16. I’m very interested to see how that legislation plays out over the next few years and which other countries follow suit.
• Unreasonable Hospitality: to my surprise, there was a lot of overlap between Will Guidara’s memoir about creating fine dining experiences and How to Know a Person (mentioned above). Guidara focuses on creating delightful, surprising, often individually tailored experiences for visitors to his restaurants. Both in relationships with his customers and to his staff, he goes to extraordinary lengths to listen to and understand their individual needs and do what he can to meet them. He’s also an engaging writer, and shares his varied and fascinating experiences with warmth and enthusiasm. I have absolutely no desire to ever start or run a restaurant, but still found this account wholly engaging (and came away with ideas for how to make guests in my home feel even more seen and cared for).
• City of Last Chances: This is the other book that I loved showing off to others this year. Not because of anything Adrian Tchaikovsky writes in the book — though it was a thoroughly enjoyable yarn — or because it’s a notable edition. The reason I loved this slightly worn paperback is because Maggie and Liam, my youngest kiddos, had read the tale before giving it to me, and had written copious notes in the margins with their own thoughts and reactions to the story, creating a delightful sense as I worked my way through it that I was reading it with them. As reading to the kids at bedtime was one of my great pleasures when they were young, and we’re all now a bit scattered to the wind, this was an absolutely delightful experience, and one that meant a ton to me. (And if you ever want to see me tear up a bit, ask me about the time I left the book at a hostel in San Francisco.)
• Cloud Cuckoo Land: Anthony Doerr accomplishes a number of impressive feats here: he weaves together five different storylines that don’t seem as though they could possibly intersect, he hangs these stories on an ancient Greek text that doesn’t actually exist, and he manages to evoke sympathy for a young man even as he places a bomb in a library full of children. It’s a remarkable novel that is also remarkably hard to summarize in any meaningful way. Suffice it to say that it has stuck with me, and is one of my favorites of the last several years. A wholeheartedly recommended meditation on the particular value of story.
• The Dictionary of Lost Words: I bought a copy of Pip Williams’ freshman book for my daughter Maggie immediately after finishing reading it, largely because the heroine reminded me a great deal of her. They share a love of interesting words, a curious nature, a head of extravagantly curly hair, and the particular affection of their fathers. My enjoyment was also augmented by the fact that much of the tale revolves around the creation of the first edition of the Oxford English Dictionary, which I’d read a good deal about in Simon Winchester’s The Professor and the Madman last year. An enjoyable tale that touches on the importance of language, who gets to dictate it, and the roles of women at various times in life and places in society. Quite a debut!
• I Who Have Never Known Men: I’ll say up front that this novel feels like a narrative cheat to me. It sets up a wonderful central mystery — what happened in Jacqueline Harpman’s post-apocalyptic world? The promise of getting answers pulled me through 80% of the read, at which point I realized (to my considerable annoyance) that answers were not forthcoming. This is a sore point for me with some of JJ Abrams’ and Arthur C. Clarke’s work, so I was particularly disappointed to again not have my questions answered. However, the fact that this was still one of my favorite reads of the year should tell you much about how solid a book it is. And my friend Johanna (who trades in stories herself) suggests that the unanswered questions might actually be constructed to help one empathize with the central character, who is similarly baffled by the state of the world and wants answers as much as we do. This one also had me thinking about it for weeks after I turned the last page.
• The Ruthless Elimination of Hurry: Going in, I did not know that this was a faith-centered book, nor that John Mark Comer is a pastor; I merely had my brother’s recommendation to go on. While the fact that it is rooted in a Christian understanding of the world will mean it won’t be to everyone’s taste, I found his message identifying the tendency towards overscheduled busyness as an enemy to calm, spiritual depth, and good relationships a compelling one. He makes a good case that silence and solitude, carving out space for rest, and committing to fewer activities would do all of us good. I ended up giving my wife a copy for Christmas, as did my brother. I’m looking forward to us all discussing it together — as soon as we can find time on our calendars!
• Babel: I will be the first to assert that academic dark fantasy is overrepresented in bookstores these days. Harry Potter launched a thousand literary ships. And I picked this up only because Abigail, daughter #2, said it was one of her recent favorites. (I didn’t realize at the time that R.F. Kuang, who was responsible for the excellent novel The Poppy War, penned this one as well.) I was quickly and thoroughly won over by the sympathetic and fascinating characters, the nuanced portrayal of both the individuals and the alternate-history Oxford in which it is set, the unique magic system which is of special interest for language enthusiasts, and the author’s readiness to explore all of the fascinating questions of race, empire and its power, slavery, and conflicting loyalties. If you can read this in the context of a book club, where you have a chance to discuss all of the themes with others, by all means do so!

In addition to the books I read in 2025, I have several I’m excited to dig into in 2026: I’ve started Leo Tolstoy’s Calendar of Wisdom, which has short selections centered around a theme to read each day. I’ve had several friends recommend The Will of the Many, and my son’s girlfriend very kindly gave me a copy for Christmas. And, speaking of Tolstoy, my brother and I have been talking about tackling Anna Karenina this year. Finally, after reading C. Thi Nguyen’s Games: Agency as Art in 2024, I’ve preordered The Score, his next work around games and their place in our lives. It’s going to be a fun year!