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The Book Blog

06/23/2025
profile-icon Dr. Brittnee Fisher

The famous horror writer H.P. Lovecraft wrote, “The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear.” While the man himself was not very nice who had deeply ingrained racist, misogynistic, and xenophobic beliefs, he certainly was on to something with fear-mongering and became a pillar in the genre. The multi-billion dollar empire of books, films and video games entertains countless people mostly by exploiting their fears. We’ve all got them. Some are rational--being traumatized by a bee or a spider can bring on anxiety and panic when facing them (apiphobia or arachnophobia). Others seem irrational but nonetheless debilitating, like acrophobia (heights) or agoraphobia (public spaces). Some seem downright silly: turophobia: fear of cheese or hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia: fear of long words. But there is one that, while not highly common, has been documented throughout history, reflected in literature, and has even led to the invention of safety coffins: the fear of being buried alive. 

 

My recent read of Unbury Carol by Josh Malerman (of The Birdbox fame) takes this concept and synthesizes it with a western and the deep sleep made popular by Sleeping Beauty. Readers follow protagonists Carol Evers in the 1890s west and the outlaw James Moxie. Carol is afflicted by a strange phenomenon that frequently and indiscriminately puts her into deep comas that last for days. Only two people know of Carol’s condition: her husband Dwight and first love turned infamous outlaw Moxie. Unfortunately for Carol, Dwight married her for her family fortune and aims to take advantage of her ailment to keep her money for himself. He plots to bury Carol quickly before she can come out of her coma--in essence burying her alive. Carol’s fated demise reaches Moxie, who rides the deadly trails back to his beloved to save her from her early, unnatural, horrific death. 

 

Malerman expertly creates suspense as readers toggle back and forth from Carol’s internal, crippled body but nonetheless aware mind and Moxie’s harrowing journey to save the lost love of his life. The action-packed cat-and-mouse chase of hired guns to stop Moxie and the fierce determination in Carol keep readers turning the pages as we root for not only her survival but also the re-ignition of the deep bond between two long-separated lovers. While my fears don’t go as deep as the worry that I’ll be buried alive, this book does scrape the edges of some of my other angst-ridden, horrific, oxygen-deprived ways to potentially die and left me gasping for air too many times to count. 

No Subjects
06/16/2025
profile-icon Kayla Cook

I had a very Stephen King-heavy childhood. My mother, whose maiden name was King and who has always been a huge fan of horror, loved him and his work. Since her preteen years, she has collected his books and watched nearly every film and television adaptation based on his stories. She also made sure to pass this love of Stephen King on to me at a young age.

My first “grown-up movie”—at least, the first grown-up movie that I was deliberately sat down and asked to watch and didn’t just wander in and see by accident—was Misery. I saw Cujo at a young enough age to instill a soul-deep fear of Saint Bernards that has yet to be remedied, no matter how cute and wholesome everyone says the Beethoven movies are. The Shining was one of my favorite holiday movies, which I loved to watch from October straight through until New Year’s—no Nightmare Before Christmas for me, no, sir. I liked watching Jack Nicholson chop his way through a bathroom door and proclaim, “Heeeere’s Johnny!” more than I did seeing Jack Skellington dress up as Santa Claus and sing merry tunes.

But I never actually read The Shining until last June. I knew Stephen King didn’t like the Stanley Kubrick film because it strayed from his vision for the story, which had been deeply personal to him. When he wrote The Shining, King was deep in his struggle with addiction, and he was greatly worried about how his dependence on drugs and alcohol affected his wife and young son. As a young father, he was also trying to terms with his relationship with his own father, who hadn’t been the most positive influence in his life when he was a child. As a result, he viewed the creative license Kubrick took with many details of his story personally, and he understandably felt that Kubrick wasn’t treating the story with the respect it deserved.

That was what held me back from reading the book for so long; I loved the movie, and was worried that I wouldn’t like it anymore once I had a better understanding of what it was supposed to be. But once I read it, I found that there were many things that weren’t actually all that different. The premise was the same, the characters felt very similar, and almost all of the scenes shown in the film were scenes pulled from the book to some degree.

The main difference that I noticed was that Kubrick almost completely removed the supernatural. In the novel, the Overlook Hotel was very much a haunted place where strange, unexplainable things occurred. Things moved on their own, wasps came back to life, ghosts made appearances and manipulated their surroundings. Kubrick scrapped all that. The only thing he kept (which he couldn’t very well get rid of because it was the whole point and was even in the title) was Danny Torrence and Dick Hallorann’s “Shine,” their paranormal connection to the universe which allows them to pass along messages telepathically and, apparently in Danny’s case, manipulate space-time a little bit (I still don’t understand what exactly that was about). However, Kubrick’s decision to keep that might be attributed more to the theory of extrasensory perception (ESP), also called “second sight” or the “sixth sense,” which was, in the mid-20th century, studied as an actual scientific occurrence rather than viewed as something paranormal as it is today.

In 2013, nearly forty years after The Shining was published, Stephen King wrote a sequel: Doctor Sleep. This novel introduced readers to Dan Torrence as an adult, now fighting his own battle with the same addiction that plagued his father and nearly destroyed his childhood. King was nearly twenty-five years sober at this point. He had seen both sides of addiction, and he knew how addiction could affect the children of addicts, so he came back to this story, and he showed that part of the journey through Dan, who he wrote leaving his own addiction behind and working to put his life back together.

In Doctor Sleep, King also introduced readers to the bad side of the Shining, and the way that ability could be used for evil, through a group of characters called The True Knot, who discovered a way to steal the souls of children who Shine and use them to prolong their own lives. Dan was made aware of The True Knot by a little girl named Abra, whose ability was somewhere between foresight and astral projection, allowing her to see things happening in other places both while they happened and before they happened (One of the first times she uses her Shine is in a scene where she seems to predict 9/11. Crazy stuff!). Dan also learned in passing of a man who Dick Hallorann, his friend from the Overlook, heard of as a child, named Charlie Manx, who apparently practiced the same kind of child-soul-stealing as The True Knot. Dick’s grandfather claimed to know Manx, and would use him as a boogieman-type figure to threaten Dick with to get him to behave—it was only after he and Dan learned about The True Knot that Dick considered that maybe Manx was actually real.

And here’s where things get really interesting.

The same year that Stephen King published Doctor Sleep, his son Joe (who writes using the surname Hill, a shortened version of his middle name, Hillström) published a book called NOS4A2 about a girl named Vic who has a supernatural connection with a ghost bridge that can help her find lost things. The main villain of NOS4A2 is—hold for suspense—Charlie Manx, who drives a 1938 Rolls-Royce Wraith with a vanity license plate which reads, you guessed it, NOS4A2 (pronounced like Nosferatu, the cheesy knockoff Dracula movie). Manx’s Wraith, it turns out, can not only help him steal the souls of children, but take them to a magical place that exists only in his mind, which he calls Christmasland. This makes for a novel that is both frightening and absurd, jolting the reader from cringing in horror to wondering what the heck they’re reading in a matter of mere sentences.

It’s hard to tell who’s referencing whom here, but if I had to guess, based on the fact that Joe Hill is a much slower writer, something he admits freely and which is to be expected based on how prolific his dad is, as well as the fact that NOS4A2 was published about five months before Doctor Sleep, I’d wager that Stephen King was referencing his son’s work when he name-dropped Manx in his own novel. Nevertheless, Hill’s book is also rife with King references, paying homage and tying this book into the broader King universe in a fascinating way and seeming to tell readers that nearly every book his father has written, and some of the ones he’s written, exist within microcosms of the same universe. On a map of all the inscapes (essentially, pockets in the universe created by and often inside the minds of people who Shine, called “Strong Creatives” in Hill’s book) in America, for instance, there are references to IT and King’s Dark Tower series. Manx also mentions that he is aware of the existence of Doctor Sleep’s gang, The True Knot, and implies that they might have even visited Christmasland, but that he and they don’t see eye to eye, and so they mostly just stay out of each other’s way.

Further, while the NOS4A2 novel was dedicated to Hill’s mother Tabitha King, and various characters’ relationships with their mothers are highlighted, the father-child relationships in this book are probably the most complex. Vic adores her father, Chris, and looks up to him more than anyone in the world despite his faults, which include choosing his addiction over his family and, at times, being physically and verbally abusive. As she gets older, Vic falls victim to the same cycle of abuse and addiction as her father, but later fights to get better in order to be a good mother to her son, Wayne. Conversely, Charlie’s daughter Millie chooses to go to Christmasland with her father, but she never leaves his shadow, and she struggles with the role she’s forced to occupy as an extension of her father’s legacy. It seems evident, then, that not only was NOS4A2 Joe Hill’s continuation of his father’s Shining/Doctor Sleep universe, it also functioned for him in the same way as the original two novels did for his father: as a way to work through personal and family struggles, as well as generational trauma.

Charlie Manx said that the road to Christmasland is paved with dreams. So, too, was the road to NOS4A2. Dreams, and the bond between a father and son.

Happy belated Father’s Day to all the different kinds of dads out there, and to my mom, Chris Hauer (née King), who was also my dad for a long time.

Oh, and The Shining is still one of my favorite holiday movies. (Sorry, Mr. King.)

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06/11/2025
profile-icon Brenda Hoffman

Helen DeWitt’s The English Understand Wool is a slim novella at 69 pages that packs a satisfying punch. After my sister, Sara (who I mistakenly thought was the person on the right in the photo below at Liz’s Book Bar in NYC) encouraged, cajoled, and demanded that I read TEUW, I bought the audiobook on sale for around $4.00 and sat on my back patio and listened to Marguerite writing her memoir. After about five minutes, I wondered: what the heck is this about? Who is this girl who speaks French and is hounded by her fancy NYC literary agent, Bethany, who offers notes, “I know you’ve been traumatized; when you’ve been through something like that* sometimes it’s easier to bottle it up inside, especially if you’re working alone.” *That trauma, dear reader, is something you will discover further along, and it’s as surprising a plot as I’ve read in recent years.

 

Two people read books while sitting. On the tables around them, there is coffee and pastries.

Liz’s Book Bar. The person on the right is NOT my sister, Sara…or so she claims…

About ten pages in, I understood that DeWitt was no ordinary author. I moved from my seat to cleaning the screens on my porch and kept stopping to rewind what I’d thought I’d heard. There’re several non-English phrases that challenged my college French and googled before moving on. Thus, exigeante means demanding; C’est curieux means It’s curious; and at the heart of this gem is Mauvais goût meaning bad taste.

Marguerite was raised with good taste, and tacky, rude, or otherwise gaudy behavior, clothing, or manners is unacceptable. And soon this reader found herself immersed in that world where Mauvais goût was unacceptable as well! 

Marguerite agrees to meet her tacky NYC agent, Bethany at a classy restaurant and is appalled by her clothes, shoes, and philistine beliefs. Typically, I’d side with the character who is the recipient of such ridicule, but DeWitt’s wit is beyond perfection:

She [Bethany] came rushing in [late] at 1:15. She wore white patent-leather shoes; these distracted me from the muddle of garments thrown together seemingly at random. (It seemed unkind to condemn these; New York offers hideous garments in an abundance rivaled only by Scotland. The shoes were inexplicable.) She sat down; I was unable, with some difficulty, to take my mind off the mystery of the shoes.

Later when Marguerite, who is 17, orders wine with no ID necessary, Bethany is hung up on this fact. Marguerite, who serves as narrator for DeWitt’s already-classic novella, remarks, “This [Marguerite ordering and drinking wine] was precisely the sort of idiocy one would expect from someone who wore white patent-leather shoes.” Classic Marguerite!

The English Understand Wool is one book in a group published by Storybook New Directions in New York City. With seven other titles (all under one hundred pages) in this collection, I’ve already got them on TBR list in Goodreads.

Saint Johns River State has the novella in its collection. I listened to the novella, and now I’m reading it in preparation for hosting my in-person book club on June 27. 

À bientôt, mes ami! (See you later, my friends!)

Natalie Portman | A gift from my friend Bessie and our June book pick!  Helen DeWitt's novella is a darkly funny but honest look at the  exploitation of trauma... | Instagram

Natalie Portman reading DeWitt's gem.

the book swap cover
06/02/2025

This week, the book blog is brought to you by Kylie Stanley, an SJR State student and part-time library employee! 

 

The Book Swap 

By: Tessa Bickers

The Book Swap by Tessa Bickers is a cute, easy read. One way that I would describe it is a Hallmark movie in a book. The story follows Erin and James's point of view, depending on the chapter. Erin and James have a history dating back to high school. The two were once a best friend trio with a girl named Bonnie, but their trio goes up in smoke when people feel betrayed by a person, they trust the most. Fast forward a good amount of time, and they find themselves in London, not knowing the other one is there. While in London, Erin donates some of her books to a community take-a-book, leave-a-book library. Little does Erin know that one of her prized possessions ended up at the library as well, her deeply annotated copy of To Kill a Mockingbird. Once she realizes, she goes back day after day to see if it is returned to find one day that it’s been returned, and in the margins under her annotations are fresh notes and a note saying to meet him in the copy of Great Expectations. This is the start of a pen pal, a friendship, and maybe even them falling in love with each other without knowing who the other person is. Through their favorite books, they both open up and are vulnerable, but little does Erin know that her new “mystery man” is the one she swore she would never forgive. Now Erin has some decisions to make. Overall, I found this book to be an easy read that reminded me of a classic Hallmark rom-com. 

 

Listen to The Book Swap on Libby!

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05/27/2025
profile-icon Dr. Brittnee Fisher

If there’s one thing I’ve learned as both a librarian and a lifelong reader, it’s this: life’s too short to read just one kind of book. Don’t get me wrong- I understand the comfort of a favorite genre. That cozy mystery where the cat solves the crime? Love it. That twisty thriller you can’t put down? Count me in. But if you’ve been reading the same flavor of fiction for a while, consider this your gentle nudge to explore a bit beyond the usual.

Reading across genres is like taking your brain on a series of mini vacations. One book might whisk you off to a medieval battlefield, while the next drops you into the middle of a 21st-century tech startup. The beauty of books is that they’re doorways- and there are so many doors to open. Why stick to just one hallway? 

I read a little bit of everything: fiction, non-fiction, biographies, sci-fi, romance, historical fiction, memoirs, graphic novels, and more. Some days I want to fall in love, some days I want to learn something new, and other days I just want to laugh at an author’s quirky take on the world. Reading multiple genres keeps things fresh, engaging, and exciting. It’s like a literary buffet- and I always go back for more!

As a librarian, I often hear readers say, “I only read thrillers,” or “I’m just a fantasy person.” My follow-up is usually: “Have you tried this yet?” (insert my latest favorite book). Sometimes it just takes the right book to spark an interest in a genre you never thought you’d enjoy. I once recommended a non-fiction book about space exploration to a die-hard romance reader- and guess what? She came back asking for more science reads (and yes, she still reads romance, too).

Visiting bookstores is one of my favorite pastimes, and I treat it like a treasure hunt. I always explore every section, even the ones I think I know nothing about. I might leave with a novel, a memoir, a cookbook, and a graphic novel- and each one feels like a new adventure waiting to happen. And with the variety of reading formats out there- print, ebook, audiobook- there’s no excuse not to sneak in more reading wherever and whenever you can.

Audiobooks have become a game changer for me (Try Libby!). They let me “read” while I walk the dog, clean the house, or commute. Sometimes, a great narrator brings a story to life in a way that gives me a whole new appreciation for the book. Switching between audio and print also helps me work through multiple books at once without ever feeling bored.

Reading outside your comfort zone isn’t just entertaining- it’s good for your brain! Different genres encourage different ways of thinking. Non-fiction boosts your knowledge and critical thinking. Historical fiction gives context to the world around us. Sci-fi stretches your imagination. Memoirs build empathy. Comedy lightens the load. It’s like cross-training for your reading muscles!

So, if you’ve found yourself in a bit of a reading rut, give something new a try. Mix it up. Let your curiosity lead the way. You never know what book might become your next favorite read. And if it’s not your cup of tea? That’s okay. You can always try another. That’s the magic of books- there’s always another one waiting!

What about you? Are you a genre hopper or a loyalist? I’d love to hear what books pulled you into unexpected genres. Leave a comment and share your favorite surprise reads- I’m always looking to add to my ever-growing TBR list! 

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05/21/2025
profile-icon Kendall McCurley

Have you ever struggled to get through a reading slump? I feel like I had been in one for at least two months. I just couldn’t find anything that held my attention or that I could say to someone that what I was reading was just so good. In romance, like in any genre, there are a few really great books, a lot of ‘meh’ books, and definitely some books that are just hands down bad. For the last month or so I felt like I was stuck in ‘meh’ limbo. I’ve been reading a variety of books, within the romance genre, and just could NOT find anything that really sparked my interest. That is, until I read a book by Jessica Peterson. 

It is rare, but every now and then, you stumble across an author who just gets you and produces the kinds of books that feel like they were written with your exact reading tastes in mind. The tropes, the humor, the characters, and the storyline were so well done that I found a book, and series, that I just could not put down. The two series that I have read by her so far are the Harbour Village series and the Lucky River Ranch series, which is still being written.

Peterson creates these small-town worlds that feel real, like places where you could move to tomorrow. Whether it’s the charming coastal vibes of Harbour Village or the sun-soaked, rustic warmth of Lucky River Ranch, her settings are more than just backdrops. They’re living, breathing characters in their own right.

The absolute best part of her writing is the characters. If a romance novel has a weak female lead, I really struggle to get through the book. The same is true if the male lead is incredibly unlikeable or just too perfect. But Peterson’s characters are smart, funny, vulnerable, and flawed in ways that make them feel real and relatable. I love that her heroines are strong and self-aware, and her heroes are refreshingly respectful, emotionally intelligent, and deeply swoon-worthy.

One of Peterson’s greatest strengths is how she balances emotional storytelling with just the right amount of heat. I found that her romances are as much about personal growth, healing, and connection as they are about passion. The slow burns, the angst, the banter—all of it is written with care and depth. I found myself laughing out loud one minute and tearing up the next.

One of the main reasons why I love the romance genre so much is that when the world feels chaotic and uncertain, these books can leave you smiling, feeling hopeful, and happy. Discovering Jessica Peterson has been a game-changer for me. If you’re a fan of heartfelt, character-driven romance set in cozy, beautifully detailed small towns—with just enough spice to keep things interesting—you owe it to yourself to check out her books!

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Pyewacket, Scott's Rx
05/12/2025
profile-icon Brenda Hoffman
Nakagyo Kokoro Clinic for the Soul prescribes cats to troubled humans.
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The book cover
04/28/2025
profile-icon Dr. Brittnee Fisher

The first time I read A Clockwork Orange by Anthony Burgess, I thought it was just okay. The language was confusing, the violence jarring, and the story, though unique, felt more like a disturbing thought experiment than something that resonated with me personally. I admired the style but didn’t connect with it. I was also deeply influenced by my love of the film adaptation, which shaped how I approached the book- and perhaps, unfairly, how I judged it. 

Now, years later, I’ve decided to revisit the novel (because of this business), and to my surprise, I’m enjoying it immensely. It’s an entirely different experience this time around, and I’ve found myself thinking about why that is. What changed between then and now? The text hasn’t changed- but I have. And that’s the beauty of rereading: the book stays the same, but the reader doesn’t. 

I’ve come to believe that my continual reading over the years has improved my literacy- not just my ability to decode and understand complex language, but my capacity to read between the lines, to appreciate subtlety, satire, and tone. Burgess’s invented language, Nadsat (there was no web guide my first time reading), once felt like an obstacle; now it feels like a brilliantly crafted layer that adds richness and depth to the narrative. I'm picking up on references and rhythms I missed before and no longer rushing to “get through” the story. I’m savoring it. 

But it’s not just about literacy. I think A Clockwork Orange is one of those books that becomes more relevant- and more haunting- the older you get. When I first read it, I was closer in age to Alex and his droogs. The violence felt performative, surreal. Now, with more life behind me, I read the book through a different lens. I think about morality, free will, and the terrifying implications of state-imposed conformity. I see the tragedy of a young man shaped- and ultimately broken- by a system more interested in control than in rehabilitation. 

The themes of choice and consequence hit harder now. I better understand the danger of a world that prioritizes obedience over understanding. And how essential it is to preserve one’s ability to choose, even if that means choosing wrong. The moral ambiguity that once made the book feel cold now feels complex and intentional. Younger me just didn’t get it. Burgess wasn’t glorifying violence- he was interrogating it, questioning the foundations of societal control.

It was also fascinating to see how our cultural context changes our reading. In today’s climate, where surveillance, algorithmic control, and polarized ideologies dominate our lives, A Clockwork Orange reads as eerily prophetic. It’s no longer just a dystopian fantasy- it’s a chilling reflection of our own reality, a warning about what happens when systems are designed to suppress rather than support the individual. 

This reread has been a reminder that some books are meant to grow with us. What once felt alienating, and abrasive now feels bold and brave. And maybe the best thing about literature is that it waits for us- it holds its meaning quietly, ready to reveal more as we become ready to receive it. 

If you haven’t read A Clockwork Orange since your younger years- or if you found it inaccessible the first time- consider giving it another shot. You might be surprised at what you find the second time around. I certainly was! 

Here are a few of my favorite made-up words from the book!

  • Boomaboom- thunder
  • Clop- to knock
  • Eggiweg- egg
  • Gloopy- stupid
  • Guttiwuts- guts
No Subjects
04/21/2025
profile-icon Kayla Cook

TW for discussions of murder, suicide, reproductive health, infertility, human trafficking, and eugenics. 

For thousands of years, very possibly for as long as humans have existed, people have been worried about “the end.” In both religious and scientific circles, the idea that one day we won’t exist remains a hot topic of discussion; for some, the idea that our species’ existence is finite is a source of fear or existential dread, while for others, this comes as a comfort. 

But what might happen if we knew the expiration date? How would that impact our lives and the way we live them? Would we do something to try to stop the end from happening, or would we welcome it? 

Author Lauren Stienstra attempts to answer these questions in her debut novel, The Beauty of the End. 

In Stienstra’s novel, humanity realizes its impending extinction in an unexpected way: the cicadas don’t emerge when they’re scheduled to. In fact, they don’t emerge at all, which prompts entomologists to start digging—literally—and they find that the previous generation of cicadas did not lay any eggs before they died. The entomologists then up all their fellow biologist buddies and begin investigating other extinct and endangered species, and ultimately discover something in every living thing’s DNA (don’t ask me what; I’m not a scientist, but Stienstra is, and this is science fiction, so I suspended disbelief and took her word for it) that can approximate about how many generations a species or individual has left in their genetic line. 

Humans, it turns out, have only about four generations left before the species dies out. Some individuals or families may have more or fewer generations left. While four is the average, some people may naturally score a five or even a six on their genetic report, while others can score three, two, one, or even zero. With each generation, that number goes down, and fewer people are born, which leads to some interesting changes to the society which emerges in this universe. 

Women are encouraged to have babies later (in their 40s or 50s if possible), or, if they can’t wait, to have a lot of babies, preferably with multiple fathers so as to “diversify the gene pool.” If you are a young woman who doesn’t want to have children but still wants to help, you have the option to become a “Mendel,” a doctor who specializes in genetics and reproduction, named for Gregor Mendel, the father of genetics. People who score higher in their generational genetic testing are preferred, both as Mendels and as sexual partners, especially since it seems that reproducing individuals with lower scores tend to have greater likelihood of passing their scores on to their offspring (for instance, if you are a 2, and you have a child with a 5, despite your partner’s high score, your children will almost certainly score a 1, meaning they can have children, but their children will not be able to have children). People unlucky enough to score zero become known as “naughts” and are inevitably looked down upon for their inability to reproduce naturally. 

People are desperate to find a way to stop the “Limit” as that four-generation expiration date comes to be known, and from that desperation come great atrocities. Human trafficking runs rampant. Women are kidnapped and sold. Men rent their wives out to be used like breeding stock. The government gives scientists almost complete autonomy to experiment as they wish, which leads to the discovery that, sometimes, people with disabilities or terrible genetic illnesses can produce children who score as high as 12, which, in turn, leads to more of the aforementioned atrocities, now specifically targeting people with these diagnoses. Families fall apart. People kill their partners and children. Mass suicides abound. 

If you think that all sounds pretty awful, I would agree with you! 

And so, it seems, would the narrator of this story, Dr. Charlie Tannehill, a young woman who agreed to become a Mendel not out of a desire to help stop the Limit, but to continue to live a life as close to the one she believes she would have had if the Limit had never been discovered. Goods have become so expensive, and the social expectation for women to reproduce is stronger than ever, so she sees becoming a Mendel as a way to both continue to afford food and the ability to live as a single woman, and to not have to reproduce. Because the Mendelia, the organization that trains Mendels, takes your ovaries when you join in lieu of tuition. 

Over time, however, as she witnesses the horrors endured by her patients at the hands of her colleagues, and the way her sister and brother-in-law's lives are destroyed by their and the Mendelia’s ambition, she begins to fight back against what society has become. 

This book was pretty heavy in terms of content, but I thought it was a fascinating thought experiment and I enjoyed the speculative aspect of it because it seemed like something that could potentially happen. The last couple of chapters really lost me, but I think that had more to do with my personal preferences than anything to do with the way it was written. I would definitely recommend this one to any fan of speculative science fiction. 

No Subjects
04/15/2025
profile-icon Victoria Slaughter

Every now and then, I stumble across a book that completely blindsides me—in the best, most haunting way. I Who Have Never Known Men by Jacqueline Harpman was exactly that kind of surprise.

I was just looking for a short audiobook to keep me company while cleaning the house one weekend. That’s it. Something under eight hours, something I could half-focus on while folding laundry or doing dishes. The cover caught my eye first, then the title. I didn’t even bother reading the description before I hit play. A few minutes in, though, I was hooked—and not long after, I found myself sitting on the kitchen floor, back against a cabinet, completely floored by the story unfolding in my ears.

Here’s the official description from Libby:

Deep underground, forty women live imprisoned in a cage. Watched over by guards, the women have no memory of how they got there, no notion of time, and only a vague recollection of their lives before. As the burn of electric light merges day into night and numberless years pass, a young girl—the fortieth prisoner—sits alone and outcast in the corner. Soon she will show herself to be the key to the others' escape and survival in the strange world that awaits them above ground.

It sounds dystopian, and it is—but it’s also something more: sparse, poetic, philosophical, and deeply introspective. At just around six hours long (or 184 pages in print), it’s not a lengthy read. But trust me when I say: this book holds power. A quiet, aching kind of power that lingers long after you’ve finished the last sentence.

There’s this misconception that short books can’t hit as hard as epics. But I Who Have Never Known Men proves otherwise. It’s a book that made me pause, reflect, and want to start it all over again the moment it ended.

It made me think about womanhood—what it means to be a woman when you’ve been completely removed from societal expectations of gender, love, and relationships. It made me reflect on the importance of community, and also the quiet strength in being alone. It’s about survival and curiosity, about being brave enough to explore the unknown even when everything feels uncertain.

It doesn’t offer every answer. In fact, it leaves you with quite a few questions. And honestly? I’m okay with that. Sometimes a book doesn’t need to tie everything up neatly to leave a lasting impact.

So if you’re looking for something short but profound—something that will haunt you in the quiet moments and make you look at the world just a little differently—give I Who Have Never Known Men a chance. Just maybe don’t try to multitask while you’re reading it. You might end up sitting on your kitchen floor, heart cracked open, wondering how a book so small could hold so much.

 

You can listen through SJR State Library's Libby!

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