Write or Die Magazine's Staff and Contributor Book Picks of 2024
Ashley Rubell—Contributor
We Were The Universe by Kimberly King Parsons
This debut novel was one of the most delightful rides I went on this year. Our protagonist, Kit, revels in the memories of her youth when she was in a band with her sister, before her psychedelic trips were replaced with trips taking her daughter to the local playground where her observations are laugh-out-loud funny. We get to spend so much time inside Kit’s mind—her rich, distracting imagination is the vehicle that keeps the plot moving—but what’s driving Kit through the world around her is actually a deep and all-consuming grief. Reckoning with the past in the present is its own type of hallucination that will trip you out, for better and for worse. When I finished reading the book I felt my own sense of loss from Kit, sad to have to part from such a mesmerizing character.
Madwoman by Chelsea Bieker
Chelsea Bieker’s Madwoman is a testament to how absolutely necessary it is for us writers to write. To use the experiences that have hurt us most deeply and turn it into art. This novel has suspense and mystery, humor and interiority. You’ll need to read it with a pen or highlighter nearby because you will want to underline the punchy, spot-on sentences that Bieker keeps her readers hooked with from the very beginning. This is a book about loss, control, the falsehoods of “security” and the ways many of us (I’m tempted to say all of us) overcompensate for what we don’t/didn’t have and end up blindsided by what we do have. If you are a mother, if you have a mother, if you’ve experienced any kind of becoming or unraveling in your life story (that covers everyone, right?), read this book.
Brittany Ackerman— Assistant Editor
The Skunks by Fiona Warnick
I recommend The Skunks to everyone I know. I recently sent it as a birthday gift to a friend of mine from my MFA program. It’s the quintessential coming-of-age tale told in a modern and refreshing way. The book sweeps back and forth between Isabel, recently graduated and living back in her hometown while she figures out next steps, and the skunks, a trio of perfect creatures on the hunt for higher meaning and existence…and food. I, too, am figuring out next steps. We all are, all the time. And that’s why this book is excellent for any age, any time. The book so eloquently taps into what it feels like to be young and not so young anymore, to look forward to what’s ahead with fear and zeal and lots of pastries to quell the pain of being alive. But in The Skunks, the pain is also joy.
Headshot by Rita Bullwinkel
This book is probably the most technically astonishing story I’ve read…ever? The story centers around the Daughters of America Cup in a weekend-long set of boxing matches where round by round, each character’s point of view changes and looks both inward and outward and questions their existence both in the ring and in the world. Each fighter has her own idea about what it means to be a boxer and what it means to be a girl, to be alive, to be here for this strange time in this strange place. Every bout brings a new lesson, a new realization, a question about power structures and the cultural climate, how one might disband the concepts of ego and the self. It’s a book that made me reflect on my own identity as a writer, how when it comes to making art, I am like and unlike an animal.
Emma Burger— Contributor
Subculture Vulture by Moshe Kasher
Comedian Moshe Kasher loves a good niche. He grew up splitting time between an Ultraorthodox Jewish community in deep Brooklyn and the streets of Oakland, where he embraced a life of drugs, graffiti writing, and generally naughty teen behavior. You can read all about it in his brilliant and hysterical first memoir, Kasher in the Rye. His second, Subculture Vulture, zooms out even further on his life, and details the six different cultures that shaped him: Alcoholics Anonymous, Judaism, the deaf community, standup comedy, the San Francisco rave scene, and of course, Burning Man.
If there’s one thing you’ll learn about Moshe, he loves to embed himself deep in community, only emerging to tell us all about it. Hilarity ensues. I devoured this book, then his first, then every interview he’s ever done, then his own podcast with his comedian wife Natasha Leggero, The Endless Honeymoon Podcast. Listen to me when I tell you that Moshe is the endlessly charming, sober, ecstasy dealing, sign language-speaking, Jewish DJ/comedian that you didn’t know you needed in your life. His book will both make you laugh, and make you learn the history of these institutions that shaped a once lost and troubled young boy into the comic and man he is today.
Hell Gate Bridge by Barrie Miskin
Barrie’s harrowing memoir, Hell Gate Bridge: A Memoir of Motherhood, Madness and Hope, got me through the toughest time in my adult life. Her book is honest, heartbreaking, and raw. In it, she tells the story of the terrifying depersonalization and derealization disorder (DDD) that she faced during and after her pregnancy. Barrie’s memoir sheds a light on DDD, which is characterized by feeling like you’re observing yourself from outside your body, and feeling like the world around you isn’t real. This book details the painful journey to getting a diagnosis and seeking help for this terrifying condition.
For me personally, this book could not have come out at a better time. I myself received a diagnosis of bipolar disorder early this year and was struggling with debilitating depression while desperately searching for the right medication when this book was released. In the absolute depths of my own darkness, I was reaching for a sign – any sign – that there was in fact a light at the end of the tunnel. Barrie’s story was very much that for me. No, no one knew how long it would be before things would start to get better, but they would, her story assured me. At some point, they almost certainly would. And they did. I feel so fortunate to have read this book when I did, and to have been so profoundly comforted by the fact that I wasn’t alone in my struggle. That there is, in fact, a way out, and that I’ve since found it.
Who Killed Mabel Frost? by Miss Unity
Mabel Frost thought he was unhappy being a man. Turns out he was just unhappy. In Who Killed Mabel Frost, writer and drag queen Miss Unity tells Mabel’s story, transitioning from man to woman and back to man again. This essay collection traces Mabel’s journey not only between genders, but between personas as well. From Dickens-loving grad student to meth-smoking party girl, Mabel cannot be pinned down. She is a master of self-transformation. She transcends categorization. This book captures what it feels like to be young and unsure of yourself. Or young and sure of yourself, and then profoundly unsure, and then sure of another thing entirely. It explores the very nature of identity and the self, and what it means to change your mind about who you are.
A true dilettante, Mabel Frost lives life on the edge. She flits between spaces – from a militant lesbian farm and commune in the middle of nowhere in the American south, to the streets of Chicago – she seems to have no fear occupying both different identities and places. Mabel is brave. I loved getting a glimpse into all her various lives, and am at once thankful, on some level, that I didn’t need to live them out myself.
Jessica Bao— Essay Reader
Sex with a Brain Injury: On Concussion and Recovery by Annie Liontas
“It is meeting someone in the rawness of their grief and realizing how close you still are to your own”—that is how Annie Liontas describes reading a student’s writing on their own Traumatic Brain Injury in Sex with a Brain Injury: On Concussion and Recovery, and that was exactly how I felt while reading Liontas’s beautiful, striking memoir. For that is truly how a brain injury might feel like for those who had their very self altered from it—a pulsating, undercurrent of grief for the person you used to be, ready to be dredged up by moments of hardship as well as solidarity. In college, I was disabled by a TBI after a flying piece of metallic door struck my head while leaving class, and there has seldom been a book that terrified and moved me as much as Liontas’s work. As I read their words, I often had to step away for the resonance and familiarity that they sounded in me—even as details differ—and for the memories they bring back and the experiences they still describe today. Yet, that is why I’m also so, so thankful for this book. Until I can gather up the courage to write about my own experiences, it is the closest record I wish for those I know to read.
From the very first page, Liontas captures the fear, confusion, pain, and perplexing mire of social expectations surrounding concussions and post-concussion syndrome, going as far with the bloodily honest but rarely-voiced consternation of “You do not pass out. You aren't likely to, less than 10 percent of concussions result in loss of consciousness… Later, you will wish you had passed out for just a minute or two, as proof to you and everybody else that something happened. You will secretly wish that there was blood, not too much blood, not like a whole brain bleed. Just, like, a touch of Halloween-style makeup.” Throughout Sex with a Brain Injury, Liontas moves between intimate details and powerful reflections on her three TBIs and the resulting post-concussion syndrome, and research and insights into how TBIs have been covered in areas such as medicine, academia, sport, and criminology. Despite the eye-catching title, the memoir presents the difficulties and intricacies of not only sex, but really everything, with a brain injury. How to read when you’ve lost the ability to read, how to write when you cannot see the words—easily though they may have formed in your mind before—and how to be yourself when you’re no longer so. How to try to recover, and become.
Goodnight Tokyo by Atsuhiro Yoshida, translated by Haydn Trowell
As a long time fan of novels with independent but interconnected stories, all coming together at the end to reveal some brilliant and oft-unexpected tapestry of humanity (à la A Visit from the Goon Squad by Jennifer Egan or Cloud Atlas by David Mitchell), I first approached Goodnight Tokyo for its promise of using this form to delve into the deep nights of such a glittering metropolis. One that many of us always want to read more about. In Goodnight Tokyo—the English-language debut of renowned Japanese author Atsuhiro Yoshida—each chapter starts with different nights in the late hours and early mornings of Tokyo, following a growing web of characters that thrum the strings of each other’s lives in different, subtle ways. There is the taxi driver and the telephone consultant, the film prop procurer and the modern-day detective. All of them specialize in helping others find things—a location, a solution, a peanut cracker, a brother—and all of them are of course seeking something themselves.
Throughout Goodnight Tokyo, with what Yoshida describes winkingly in the afterword as actually versions of “ten books [that] exist only in my mind, at least for the time being… a collection of serial short stories that can be enjoyed as ten books in one,” Yoshida never goes for the obvious surprises or explosive emotional punches. Instead, he offers us quiet enumerations and hints of magic realism, even observations covering biting sentiments, and coincidences that feel realistic because the characters have earned them. Reading Goodnight Tokyo feels like someone taking you by the hand and walking you through the darkened, strangely deserted streets of this famously busy city, ducking between the neon signs and the late night diners, both of your hands sweating and warm, faster and faster, until finally, you are running.
Kailey Brennan DelloRusso— Editor in Chief
Margo’s Got Money Troubles by Rufi Thorpe
I feel like I don’t often come across books that I can describe as a “sheer delight,” but that is the only way I can describe Rufi Thorpe’s latest. One of the most likable, messy characters I’ve read to date, Margo had me rooting for her from page one, and I flew through this novel as if it were a thriller— dying to know what would happen next.
Fruit of the Dead by Rachel Lyon
I will be rereading Rachel Lyon’s novel in 2025 because this one just screams for a revisit. Set on a private island, this reimaging of the myth of Persephone and Demeter explores all my favorite fiction themes— addition, family, sex, girlhood, and power. Fruit of the Dead is unforgettable.
The God of the Woods by Liz Moore
This novel got me right away with its 1970s summer camp setting. An eccentric and interesting cast of characters, a mystery in two timelines, and Liz Moore’s proficient exploration of family dynamics and class really solidified this into a wholly satisfying reading experience.
I was completely transported and breathless until the last page. This was my first Liz Moore book but I have since read her entire backlist. This year, I gained a new favorite author.
Nicholas Claro—Fiction Reader
Highway 13 by Fiona McFarlane
I love interlinked story collections when the pieces are woven together in subtle, wildly clever, and oftentimes surprising ways, as they are in Fiona McFarlane’s Highway 13.
The protagonists of these stories all share a single commonality: their connection, either directly or tangentially, to Paul Biga. A man who, in the late 90s, committed a string of brutal murders along an Australian highway. In “Hostel,” an unnamed narrator explains how she might one day tell her husband a story she overheard a married couple tell about that one time they brought a young woman—who they discovered crying outside of a backpacker hostel—home for the night. Months later, this same young woman becomes one of Paul’s victims. “Chaperone” details a nun’s trip to Italy, where she chaperones six girls, one of whom, years later, becomes the sole survivor of Paul’s rampage. And in “Democracy Sausage”, readers are delivered a stream-of-consciousness rant from a politician who struggles with sharing a last name with the killer.
Highway 13 showcases McFarlane’s virtuoso. I was floored by her ability to intricately detail the chain-reaction of one man’s violence on everyday citizens in the future, the present, and yes—even the past.
Kim Narby— Contributor
The Palace of Eros by Caro de Robertis
This book was a find that came up while I was researching the August book list for Write or Die. It is a sapphic retelling of the myth of Eros and Psyche. As a huge fan of The Song of Achilles, as soon as I saw Madeline Miller’s blurb, I was bought in. I was so excited to get my hands on a copy that I went to the bookstore a week early to pick one up, only to be informed by the booksellers that it was being published the following Tuesday.
Psyche is a mortal woman who is said to be more beautiful than the goddess Aphrodite. Jealous, Aphrodite sends her daughter Eros to destroy Psyche, but instead Eros falls in love, and sweeps Psyche away to an impenetrable palace just for her. Eros visits Psyche only at night, in the cover of darkness, and the book includes some of the richest queer sex scenes I’ve ever read - beautiful and cathartic in their lack of restraint. Throughout the book we learn more about Eros’ past, and their gender unravels as they gain a greater understanding of their own desires. While Eros is described as nonbinary, I saw the expansiveness of their form as an exploration of the intersex community, a queer branch that is often overlooked.
I’ve bought no less than three copies of this book to give away to people in my life, including sending my own copy across the country to a girl I had a fling with in Montana. That one was inscribed with a sweet message that I believe would do Eros, the god of love, proud.
Some Strange Music Draws Me In by Griffin Hansbury
I saw Griffin read a passage of this book during a Pride reading at the Center for Fiction earlier this summer. The excerpt included a conversation between his 40-something protagonist Max, a single trans man, and Max’s Gen-Z niece that had me in stitches. I ran directly to the register once the event was over to grab my own copy.
Some Strange Music Draws Me In alternates between 2019, when Max has returned to his hometown to clean up his recently passed mother’s house, and 1984 when Mel (Max pre-transition) is whittling a summer away in Swaffham, MA. She finds herself pulled to a new woman in town, Sylvia, who Mel’s best friend calls ‘a tranny.’ Sylvia introduces Mel to a world she didn’t realize could exist for someone like her.
The prose in this book is absolutely impeccable and I find myself actively angry that more people are not reading it and talking about it! Hansbury artfully handles the tension between Gen Z and elder queers, the working class in New England and those with privilege, and families split into liberal and conservative factions. The book also holds space for the intersection of these identities, and the complexities involved in being human, despite society’s attempts to push us towards binaries. As Max and Mel grapple with their understanding of tranness, and what it means for them, we are reminded gender and sexuality are rarely black and white.
Barrie Miskin— Contributor
Shae by Mesha Maren
I received a digital ARC of Shae last winter and read it on my Kindle on an overnight flight across the Atlantic. Once I read the first paragraph, I knew I wouldn't sleep. I finished the last pages as the sun rose outside my plane window.
When Shae was released this past May, I bought a hard copy. Holding it in my hands, I was surprised that the book was just a bit over two hundred pages. It reads like an epic novel, one of those stories that spans lifetimes.
The heartbreaking love story of Shae and Cam, two teens coming of age in West Virginia, is captivating and intertwines themes of first love, identity, teen motherhood, drug addiction and family. Maren tackles these complicated threads with her signature graceful and intuitive prose. It's an intimate book. The characters are so real that I find myself thinking of Shae and Cam even almost a year after I first met them, wondering what they are doing now, how things turned out. I go back to Shae from time to time, thumbing through the pages just so I can see them again.
Fruit of the Dead by Rachel Lyon
With the skill of an otherworldly sorceress, Rachel Lyon actually transports us to the lush private island that serves as the modern underworld where this exquisite present day retelling of the myth of Persephone and Demeter plays out.
In Fruit of the Dead, Lyon explores themes of addiction, sex, family and loyalty through a razor sharp power play between our Persephone (sexy camp counselor Cory), Demeter (disgraced NGO executive Emer) and Hades (pharmaceutical giant Rolo Picazo). Even if we are familiar with the myth itself and have a sense of how the story ends, Lyon's retelling keeps the suspense as tight as a wire and we are kept holding our breath until we reach the last page. I read Fruit of the Dead in one giant gulp and felt deliciously hungover after, lost in the haze of the world Lyon created for days after I closed the book.
Nirica Srinivasan— Interviews Editor
Cascade by Julia Hannafin
I loved Cascade so much when I first read it that I read it again within the next few weeks, and my copy is full of Post-its marking my favourite lines. Julia Hannafin’s debut novel (and one of the first offerings from publisher Great Place Books) is the story of Lydia, who impulsively joins a research team tagging and monitoring great white sharks. The research study is led by her ex-boyfriend’s father, Michael, who fascinates and attracts Lydia in equal measure. This is a story of what it means to observe and be observed, of grief and addiction and gender and sharks—the many things that swim under a visible surface. Everything about Cascade is stunning, including its gorgeous cover (and the font used in the book!).
Misrecognition by Madison Newbound
I picked up Misrecognition impulsively, drawn by the blurb—a young woman, Elsa, is newly directionless and living in her parent’s house after a bad breakup. Watching a movie, she finds herself drawn to the lead actor, and the character he plays in the film. (Newbound doesn’t mention any names, but the actor is definitely Timothée Chalamet, and the film is Call Me By Your Name.) In a spectacular coincidence, she realises the actor is actually in her hometown, performing in a local theatre festival. I found Misrecognition such a fascinating read, as we see Elsa growing up in the age of late capitalism—navigating her queerness, lurking on social media, hovering on the edge of real life. I loved Elsa’s slipperiness, the preciseness of the writing, and the feeling of a constant but elusive possibility for a revelation about the self.
Rejection by Tony Tulathimutte
The most chronically-online book of all time, Rejection made me feel so viscerally unwell that I thought I would throw the book across the room (I read it on my phone, which felt apt). In seven loosely linked stories, Tulathimutte introduces us to a whole host of terrible situations and people, exploring the depths of rejection, repression, loneliness, and desire. When I finished the first story, ‘The Feminist,’ I thought I was prepared for what the rest of the book would offer—I was not. Each story ups the ante in ways I did not expect. The stories are unsparing, disgusting, playful, brutal, brilliant… I’m using a lot of adjectives, but they’re all true!
Shelby Hinte—Senior Editor
Madwoman by Chelsea Bieker
Chelsea Bieker’s Madwoman is the book I feel I’ve been searching for my whole life. A novel about the insidious ways that domestic violence roots itself in the children that bear witness to it. It follows Clove, a woman with a seemingly perfect life—she’s beautiful, has an adoring husband, two lovely children, a gorgeous home, etc.—but she also has a secret past full of violence that she’s worked desperately to outrun. She’s spent her adult life obsessively curating an identity of purity that she imagines will absolve her of the depraved childhood she’s been trying to outrun. “I walked and chugged water and drowned out the past with podcasts about meditation or manifestation or crystals or plant-based lifestyles. Solid weeks devoted to learning about food sensitivities and diagnosing myself with them, throwing myself into the work of elimination, of achieving systemic purity.” Seeped in dark humor and brimming with the absurdity of wellness culture, Madwoman is a novel about the ultimate detox—erasing the version of yourself that no longer serves you, the one that haunts you. It’s about the perpetual internal void of existence and the all-to-familiar compulsion to consume the perfect combination of substances in order to fill it—“Somewhere, on one of these shelves, was a product I needed. A product that would fix this, fix me.” Madwoman is a novel that somehow straddles the space between literary thriller and cultural satire. Bieker has concocted something daring, strange, and necessary; she is a master risk-taker. Madwoman is wholly original and it’s secured a spot on my list of favorite books of all time.
The Hypocrite by Jo Hamya
“Ten years ago, you upset your daughter by writing a book she didn’t like. Ten years later she has upset you by writing a play you don’t like. And your solution to all of this now is to write another book. Yes?”
Jo Hamya has written the ultimate comedy of manners for artists. The Hypocrite is a laugh-out-loud funny novel about the absurdity of looking to art for lessons in morality. Set during the pandemic in London, The Hypocrite takes place over the course of a day in which a father attends an afternoon showing of his daughter’s play. As the performance unfolds before him, the scene becomes recognizable. The setting looks like a place he’s been, the lead actor looks uncanilly like him, and, soon, he realizes is meant to be him. All of the events are familiar, though he is certain they didn’t happen exactly as his daughter has written them. As he watches his daughter’s reinterpretation of a summer they spent together when she was a teenager, he comes to believe that his daughter doesn’t think very highly of him or his world views. By the audience’s laughter, he fears neither do they. The Hypocrite is a cleverly constructed novel about the paradox of wanting to be understood while resisting trying to understand. Hamya’s novel will resonate with anyone who has ever turned to art to speak the truths they cannot speak to the people closest to them.
Maya Lekarczyk — Graphic Artist
Mouthful by Matt Starr
I never thought myself to be someone who would enjoy erotic poetry but here we are. I made the spontaneous decision to go to a poetry reading at Sisters back in October and I was lucky enough to hear Matt’s incredible writing and personality from his debut poetry collection Mouthful. After the first line, the whole room was focused on what Matt had to say. To be honest, my first thought was “Is this a bit?” The cover with an inconspicuous teddy bear truly made me realize I had judged a book by its cover. However, that was very short-lived, and about five seconds later the whole room was erupting in laughter that did not stop till the end of his set. I was in awe of how Matt was able to share the deepest parts of himself that the majority of people would hide away with shame and hope to never revisit. Matt not only revisited but brought a humorous and raw tone to these experiences and shared it with the world with confidence and skill. I was crying with laughter by the end and immediately bought a copy as soon as he stepped off stage. It now lives on my coffee table and every person who picks it up has the same reaction, initial horror that quickly moves to belly-grabbing laughter.
Funny Story by Emily Henry
Sometimes a story just needs to be a story. It doesn’t need to have earth-shattering ideas or quotes people write their theses about. Sometimes all you need is a book that makes you feel warm and fuzzy and provides an escape from reality. Emily Henry has turned into somewhat of a comfort author for me. I think “beach read” type books get a bad rap, but they got me back into reading in college, so they hold a special place in my heart. The love story wasn’t the part that stuck with me in this story however it was the subplot of the main character developing confidence and becoming their own. I could relate to Daphne’s experience of letting others share their stories for them and being quiet enough that no one knows who you are. I felt truly called out when learning more about how shy and reserved Daphne was it was truly a look-in-the-mirror moment. That is something I have always loved about Emily Henry it is not just about the love story. She incorporates these other themes that allow you to connect to the story in a different way beyond just a cheesy romance story.
Abigail Oswald— Contributor
The Long Hallway by Richard Scott Larson
Richard Scott Larson’s The Long Hallway looks back at the author’s coming-of-age through the lens of a classic 1978 horror film: John Carpenter’s Halloween. How did his adolescent obsession with the film shape him and his own understanding of his queer identity, for better or worse? As Larson pulls at the threads of his past—his father’s death, a classmate’s murder, his own experience of sexual assault—he begins to unravel a complex tangle of fear and desire.
There’s nothing I love more than when a writer leads me to see something in a whole new way. Through Larson’s eyes, The Long Hallway offers a compelling argument for reading the opening of Halloween as a coming-out story. As an avid Carpenter fan myself, I deeply appreciated the opportunity to return to a familiar film and find something new in it. Larson’s writing reaffirmed one of my favorite truths about art—because every single person brings their own unique experience to a film or a painting or a novel, there’s always something left to discover. The art you love can continue to open itself up to you in perpetuity, if you let it.
Horror fans will find much to love in Larson’s deep fandom and unique perspective on the film, and memoir fans will delight in his unique approach to the form. (I know I did!)
Art Monster: On the Impossibility of New York by Marin Kosut
What brings artists to New York, and why do they choose to stay? Marin Kosut’s Art Monster is a multifaceted exploration of the collision of fantasy and reality in the pursuit of a creative life. While writing the book, Kosut drew from her own personal experience in various art spaces (like the gallery she founded in the shell of an abandoned payphone), as well as years of interviews with other artists. This is someone intimately familiar with the ups and downs of the creative struggle, and the book is a testament to its many joys and pitfalls.
One of my favorite things about Art Monster is Kosut’s frank references to the drafts, feedback, and revision that allowed the work to become what you’re holding in your hands. I was reminded that art is not simply about arriving at a final product—it’s about the journey, everything that led up to it. As a result, Art Monster feels alive—almost as if you’re reading something that’s still in the process of evolving. At one point Kosut astutely observes, “A book is an accumulation of the self over time,” and those words have lingered with me ever since.
Part scholarly text, part manifesto, part love letter—I’ve never read a book quite like Art Monster.
Home Movies by Michael Wheaton
As publisher of Autofocus Books, Michael Wheaton has been a tremendous champion for unique voices in the autobiographical realm, so I was thrilled to read his debut!
This beautifully designed little book contains an essay split into seven sections, such as “Upon Watching a Google Photo Montage of Myself on My Wife’s Phone” and “Upon Watching an Unboxing Video of a Writer I Don’t Follow on Twitter.” How do our relationships to art and technology affect our experience of the world around us? Whether his setting is a classroom or a social media feed, Wheaton’s writing brims with shrewd perspective on his experience of living a mediated life. I especially love the idea of a montage or unboxing video as a lens through which we can view ourselves differently. We’re surrounded by unlimited avenues for self-discovery, if we only look closely enough.
Heavily influenced by the art of film editing, Wheaton skillfully weaves all these different fragments of his life into a one-of-a-kind self-portrait. Teaching, writing, parenting, marriage—it all shows up on the page, and everything connects. Full of wit and unique insight, Home Movies is a thoughtful meditation on nostalgia, technology, and performance that made me think differently about my own experience of living in a mediated world.
