Reading is a magical experience, whether you pick up a paperback, an e-reader, your phone—or listen to a book narrated by a performer. So we asked faculty and staff at Tufts to recommend books for your summer—not necessarily new, just recommended—and they came back with more than 35 wildly varied choices in fiction, nonfiction, and poetry. 

As contributor John Lurz, an associate professor of English, puts it in his review of In the Rhododendrons by Heather Christle, A04, “literature can loosen if not totally liberate us from the confinement of our experiences.”

This year, we have historical fiction, sci-fi, mysteries, literary fiction, family sagas, short stories, love stories, and supernatural stories, and an offering of poetry. On the nonfiction side, we feature a book on the art of writing, memoirs, glimpses of ancient history, and the stuff that makes up our world.

Read on and enjoy. And for faculty, staff, and students, don’t forget that many of these books are available at the Tufts libraries.

If you have other suggestions for summer reading, let us know at now@tufts.edu, and we’ll post an update.

FICTION

The All of It, by Jeannette Haien. This is a beautifully written, quietly powerful novella that delves into themes of love, faith, desire, and morality. Set in a rural Irish village in the 1980s, the story unfolds through the eyes of a priest grappling with the recent deathbed confession of a longtime parishioner and friend. However, the full extent of his secret is revealed only when the parishioner’s wife shares the story behind their unconventional marriage. Delivered with disarming candor, her narration constitutes the bulk of this slim novel, unraveling a tale of personal and familial turmoil that forces a re-evaluation of conventional piety and creates space for a more nuanced understanding. Like the stark Irish landscape she describes, Haien’s prose is lyrical and spare, conveying deep emotion and relational complexity with remarkable subtlety and grace. With its meditative tone and richly drawn characters, The All of It is an elegant little gem that offers a contemplative, yet compassionate exploration of sin and redemption. —Ronee Saroff, editorial director and executive editor, University Communications and Marketing

All the Ugly and Wonderful Things, by Bryn Greenwood. This novel is a beautiful love story that unfolds with complexities from beginning to end. I read it twice, once on my own and again with my book club. What a wonderful conversation this book generated. Wavy is the daughter of two broken parents and suffers in silence. Her silence is deafening until she meets Kellen. For so many reasons, she and Kellen should not have met under the circumstances, but when it all plays out, the two experience happiness as well as vulnerability, ugliness, judgment, and ethical scrutiny because they find love in one another. This book encompasses tragedy, one after another, but Wavy’s strength is that of a lioness, and Kellen’s desire to do right by her is second to none. This book will tug at your heart and evoke a range of emotions, and I promise you will not want to put it down. ­—Yolanda L. Smith, executive director, Department of Public Safety, and chief of police, Tufts University Police Department 

Annie Bot, by Sierra Greer. I’m surprised more people haven’t discovered this brilliant novel. In any given year, I read between 50 to 100 books, so when one truly stands out, I can’t help but recommend it to everyone I know. Annie Bot is one of those rare reads. You will fall in love with Annie Bot, the robot protagonist, who was designed to be the ideal girlfriend for her human owner, Doug. Set in a dystopian and maybe not so distant future, Annie is programmed to satisfy all of Doug’s emotional and physical needs. She has dinner ready for him every night, she wears the outfits he buys for her, and she devotes herself entirely to pleasing him. But as the story unfolds, Annie begins to question her relationship with Doug, her place in society, and her very existence. Annie’s artificial intelligence becomes more human than her developers, or Doug, ever anticipated. This novel is heartbreaking, thought-provoking, unfortunately relevant, and timeless. You will not be able to put it down. Through the last page, I was cheering not only for Annie but for every woman who has ever had to fight to define herself. —Samara Abramson, associate director, communications and public relations, The Fletcher School

Cascade Failure, by L.M. Sagas. If you, like me, loved the TV show Firefly, prepare to fall head-over-heels for Cascade Failure. This book is a space adventure that perfectly captures that beloved show’s spirit with its ragtag crew of lovable misfits aboard the ship Ambit. Just like Firefly, this story delivers that perfect blend of edge-of-your-seat excitement and witty banter, balancing moments of genuine emotion with laugh-out-loud humor. At its heart is a found family of fascinating characters, including an AI captain, a gruff ex-soldier with a “don’t make me shoot you” attitude, and a snarky engineer/medic who brings both healing and humor to their chaotic adventures—all while they navigate corporate conspiracies that could threaten entire worlds. And, just in case one book isn’t enough, there’s a second book in the series. —Kristin Ziska Strange, associate director of faculty development & instructional design, Tufts Technology Services

Ghachar Ghochar, by Vivek Shanbhag, translated by Srinath Perur. It’s a universal lesson: coming into money doesn’t always make things better. In this case, our unnamed narrator’s uncle starts a spice business in Bangalore, and the family’s life changes materially for the better (the entire family moves from a shotgun shack to a large home), but the transition leaves most family members adrift. This short novel—117 pages in a small format book—paints a vivid portrait of the characters: the narrator’s father and mother, uncle, sister, and wife from an arranged marriage, an outsider who has her own role to play in the family.  We get to know them all, even if only seen through the narrator’s eyes, and feel their frustrations, pain, worries, and jealousies. I was left thinking about the characters for a long time after finishing the book—what will become of them, and what does it say about money and success, not only in this small family in southern India, but writ large? Ghachar Ghochar is also another vivid reminder that sometimes the best books are the shortest ones, where every word counts, and none is superfluous. —Taylor McNeil, senior news and audience engagement editor, University Communications and Marketing

Have You Seen Luis Velez?, by Catherine Ryan Hyde. This is the first book I have read by Catherine Ryan Hyde, but it definitely won’t be the last. In the end, this is a book about friendships. But along the way, there are lessons in humanity, insightful social commentary, and fantastic character development. The main character, Raymond, is a 16-year-old boy who doesn’t fit in with his classmates or his two families: his mother, who is remarried with three other children, or his father, who is remarried to a woman who openly disdains him. He is asked the eponymous question by Millie, an elderly blind woman who lives in his apartment building, and his decision to learn more about her and her circumstances, and to help her both with day-to-day activities and to find her missing friend sets him on a path that will change his life and teach him how he fits in the world. He starts looking for Luis by using the phone book and visiting apartments throughout New York City. After his second or third visit, I decided the adventures and lessons learned in these visits would make up the rest of the book, but I was wrong. Though many of the people he meets in this section of the book have recurring roles, the plot lines are much more wide-ranging than that. Prepare yourself to root Raymond and Millie along on their journey and enjoy the ride. —Maria Conroy, associate director, steward & donor relations, University Advancement

The History of Sound, by Ben Shattuck. While each of the dozen stories in this collection, written beautifully and empathetically, could stand on its own, they are really six pairs of stories. Each companion story, often set in different places across New England and spanning three centuries, reveals something about the characters or plot of the previous one. The title story follows the travels of two music students in Maine in the summer of 1919 who are collecting and recording folk songs. Lionel and David come from different worlds, but they’re powerfully drawn together and fall in love. Their affair is cut short, but its powerful resonances stay with Lionel forever. This achingly beautiful story has already been made into a film, released earlier this spring. In the companion story, “Origin Stories,” which appears last in this collection, we return to Lionel and David in another guise. Annie, wife of a Bowdoin College professor, is struggling in her marriage and in this new setting, doing renovations on a house that she’s not sure feels like home. She finds the wax cylinders on which Lionel and David recorded the folk songs decades earlier and decides to try to track them down to return them. Shattuck seamlessly goes from deeply researched historical fiction to riffs on modern genres like a breezy radio show. Each story is thoughtful and textured, creative and compelling. —Julie Dobrow, distinguished senior lecturer, Eliot-Pearson Department of Child Study and Human Development; director, Center for Interdisciplinary Studies

Killers of a Certain Age, by Deanna Raybourn. If you’re searching for a book that engages from the onset, this may be the one for you. It is about four gutsy women who have worked together over the course of four decades for an organization called The Museum. Their profession is what some would consider a bit unusual. Although the book opens with an initial hint as to where the women’s unique skills lie, we find them in a very different situation. They are boarding a ship for an all-expenses-paid cruise, complements of The Museum, to mark their well-deserved retirement. Early in the trip things turn out not to be quite right. This leads us into a series of past and present vignettes. The present is infused with the normal trials and tribulations of getting older—diminished physical and mental abilities—to which they need to adjust. The women solve the problem by pooling their residual abilities to survive. Besides intrigue, there is also a healthy dose of cutthroat addiction to power and big doses of sexism and ageism. It is hard to guess what will happen next—the author keeps throwing in surprises, and hence it is hard to put down the book once you start reading —Alice H. Lichtenstein, Gershoff Professor of Nutrition Science and Policy, Friedman School; director and senior scientist, Cardiovascular Nutrition Laboratory, HNRCA

The Lilac People, by Milo Todd. This debut novel feels like time travel, as it thoroughly plunges you in two timelines on either side of World War II: Berlin in 1932 and a rural farm in 1945. We witness the shocking transformation of Germany through the eyes of Bertie, a trans man, and Sofie, his partner, from their life in a sophisticated and inclusive city, to their struggle to avoid danger in a much less welcoming time and place. To their horror, the liberation of the concentration camps at the war’s end offer them little safety—the Allied forces are rounding up queer people and jailing them. The stakes, not small to begin with, only rise when the couple discover a young trans camp escapee hiding on their property. What they do next could save—or lose—all their lives. Years in the making, the deeply researched book immerses us in the music, food, attitudes, and news of a distant era, even as unavoidable parallels to our own moment emerge. Some passages feel almost too painful to read, others offering glimmers of hope for the characters and, perhaps, for all of us.—David Valdes, lecturer in English, School of Arts and Sciences

Long Bright River, by Liz Moore. I am one of those people who, once I find a terrific new author, immediately gets on the library database to check out everything else she has ever written. That’s what happened for me with The God of the Woods, the latest novel by Liz Moore, which I read in a single sitting one decadent Saturday last year. That led me in turn to Moore’s Long Bright River, which could not be more different from her latest, but which is just as difficult to put down. River threads together the stories of Mickey, a dedicated police officer battling the opioid crisis on the Philadelphia streets, and her sister Kacey, estranged from Mickey and struggling with addiction. The thriller shadows Mickey as she searches for her sister, who has disappeared amidst a series of murders plaguing the city. No spoilers about whether Mickey finds Kacey, but what Mickey certainly does find amidst her search is a series of difficult family secrets conveyed with poignancy and propulsion. I have often been challenged to find a crime thriller of literary fiction quality that also gives the human/family drama the nuanced portrayal it demands. Moore is a master at both. I now have a Google Alert ready for whatever she is giving us next. —Dave Nuscher, executive director, content and planning, University Communications and Marketing

The Memory Police, by Yōko Ogawa, translated from Japanese by Stephen Snyder. Dystopian, Orwellian, and surreal, The Memory Police follows a series of disappearances on an uncharted island. The disappearances are not the traditional sort, with people going missing (although that does happen, too). Instead, objects (like hats and boats) and wildlife (like roses and birds) are systematically “disappeared,” stripped of their purpose, identity, history, and cultural significance. Each loss happens seemingly overnight, triggering various ripple effects on society. The Memory Police, a brute authoritarian force clad in militaristic uniforms, work quickly and methodically to erase what once was and persecute anyone who shows signs of remembering. The primary storyline follows an average, unnamed young woman as she navigates life on the island with each new disappearance and struggles to remember the significance of the lost items. Unlike most characters, she protects those around her. Though by no means a light summer read, this novel—written in 1994, translated in 2019—is impactful, as it articulates the complexities of grief and serves as a potent reminder of the dangers of forgetting. —Jessica Saab, production artist, University Communications and Marketing 

The Ministry of Time, by Kaliane Bradley. This is a tale of time travel, adventure, and romance. It’s moving, and, overall, a tremendous amount of fun. It also explores questions of identity and belonging (handled quite sensitively); and wades into topical issues like climate change (injected a bit more clumsily.) It stuck with me for a long time after I’d finished it, partly because I’d become attached to the characters, and partly because I’m a stickler for logic, and I couldn’t figure out if all the pieces actually fit together seamlessly after the swift-moving series of events that led to the conclusion. The action, set in London sometime in the early 21st century, involves an unnamed female narrator who is plucked from her fairly ordinary government post to work on a top-secret project involving time travel. It seems the British government has been able to retrieve several individuals from past centuries and bring them into the present. Our narrator is assigned the task of assimilating a 19th century naval captain into the modern world. We eventually realize there’s been a lot going on that has escaped her notice. Does it all make sense at the end? To be honest, I’m not sure. To be honest, I don’t care. This was an intriguing story with great characters, and I’m glad I read it.—Helene Ragovin, senior content creator and editor, University Communications and Marketing

The Moving Finger, by Agatha Christie. This classic British cozy mystery is dated, but still lovely. It takes its title from Edward FitzGerald’s translation of the Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám: “The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ, / Moves on: not all thy Piety nor Wit / Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line, / Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.” Perfect for a mystery that includes poison pen letters! Jerry Burton and his sister Joanna move to the quaint little town of Lymstock, seeking a calm environment where Jerry can finish recovering from a plane crash. However, there has been a rash of salacious letters to the townspeople, upsetting the quiet community. When one letter recipient dies by suicide, the police begin to investigate, and Jerry lends a hand. I highly recommend the audiobook performed by Richard E. Grant. He does lovely voices that match up very well with the voices in my head (which is important if you’ve already read the book in print), perfect for a lazy day in a hammock! Interesting puzzle, fun characters, PG only for the content of some of the anonymous letters (and maybe for murder, I suppose!), and charming, old-fashioned happily-ever-after romance. If you’re familiar with Agatha Christie already, this is technically a Miss Marple mystery, but she is a very minor character. —Elizabeth Storrs, senior business analyst, Tufts Technology Services

Mr. Mercedes, by Stephen King. While Stephen King is best known for his horror with supernatural elements, like the topiary that moves ominously in The Shining (topiary still creeps me out), his more recent Bill Hodges/Holly Gibney books are as much a detective series as horror series, and rise above many thanks to the surprise star, Holly Gibney. The series starts with Mr. Mercedes, as retired detective Bill Hodges gets re-involved with a case that he had failed to resolve before his retirement—a madman in a stolen Mercedes slammed through a large crowd of job seekers lined up to try to get work, at the height of the 2008 recession. It’s through that case that he meets Holly Gibney, a middle-aged woman who is neurodivergent, controlled by her mother, and absolutely amazing. As with all of King’s books, his characters feel real, like people we actually know, and the places they live feel like fully realized places—not just settings, but a place we could visit (and maybe not look into the storm drains when we do). King has said that Holly was meant to be a minor character in that first book, and then he fell in love with her, and she has since become just as indelible as any other famous detective. She is, he has said, someone he wishes he could be friends with, and I agree. After the Bill Hodges trilogy, Holly has three of her own novels (plus a novella published in the collection If It Bleeds), and the newest one, Never Flinch, has just come out. I can’t wait to spend some more time with her this summer. —Amy Gantt, director of strategic research development, Office of the Vice Provost for Research

Perspective(s), by Laurent Binet, translated by Sam Taylor. The painter Jacopo da Pontormo is brutally murdered on January 1, 1557, in Florence in this alternate history/mystery told in a series of letters between some very real people: Cosimo de’ Medici, the duke of Florence; Giorgio Vasari, a painter, art historian, and fixer; and Michelangelo—and that’s just for starters. It’s an almost madcap tale of bitter rivalries—artistic and political—as the missives fly back and forth. Pontormo had been laboring on frescos to match those done at the Sistine Chapel by Michelangelo (a native of Florence, after all), but was growing frustrated by the increasing restrictions placed by the new Pope—and was unhappy with the duke, whose daughter’s face he added to a lascivious painting of Venus. The mystery has multiple strands, intricately woven by Binet, and it’s also a primer on art and life in Florence in the Renaissance, very cleverly done. All the major artists of the day put in appearances, and you will learn a lesson or two on perspective and religious paintings—but mostly you’ll will be entertained. —Taylor McNeil, senior news and audience engagement editor, University Communications and Marketing

The Reading List, by Sara Nisha Adams. Ever since I discovered The Reading List, I have been constantly recommending it. I listened to the audiobook, which has multiple narrators and enhanced the beauty and magic of the writing. In this story, library patrons find a list of books written on grocery receipts left in random places within the library. As each book from the list is introduced, it resonates in a different way for each person. For one of them, a character from their book becomes a friend helping them through their grief. For another, the books help them to reconnect with their mother as they read the books aloud. It was also fun to compare which books on The Readling List I’ve already enjoyed over the years and then adding the rest to my increasing long “To Read” pile. If you love libraries, book groups, and heartwarming stories of resilience, it’s well worth your time this summer. —Claire Suthar, data reporting analyst, Tufts Support Services

The Road to Tender Hearts, by Annie Hartnett. This darkly comedic book features Hartnett’s trademark offbeat characters, described with a spot-on sense of humor. As the book opens, middle-aged PJ Halliday deals, not well, with the various tragedies of his life: the bizarre drowning death of his oldest daughter, his fraught relationship with his younger daughter, his weirdly co-dependent relationships with his ex-wife and her soon-to-be second husband, and three heart attacks of his own. PJ drinks too much. He’s hapless and happy go lucky, but despite his many flaws, you have to like the guy. He adopts the strange orange cat that shows up on his doorstep and seems always to know when someone’s about to die. He cheerfully takes on the guardianship of two young children he doesn’t really know after their parents implode. And because he’s learned that the first love of his life recently lost her husband and is now living in a retirement community in Arizona, PJ decides he’s going to make the grand romantic gesture of driving across the country, showing up at Michelle Cobb’s door, though he hasn’t seen or been in touch with her since they were teenagers, and rekindle their love. His cross-country trek with his adult daughter Sophie, the two young children whose guardian he’s become, and Pancakes the cat leads to a variety of adventures. Eventually they make their way to the Tender Hearts Retirement Community in Tucson, where PJ will surprise Michelle. Let’s just say that Michelle isn’t the only one who is surprised, as the clever twists and turns of this novel unfold. This is a great summer read that, despite some of its dark topics, will leave a smile on your face. —Julie Dobrow, distinguished senior lecturer, Eliot-Pearson Department of Child Study and Human Development; director, Center for Interdisciplinary Studies

Small Things Like These by Claire Keegan. This is the perfect book for the reader who regrets not having more time to read. A work of historical fiction about the Magdalene Laundries in 1985 Ireland, the novella includes not a single unnecessary word as we consider how Bill Furlong, a hardworking father of five girls just barely keeping his family afloat, will confront the unfair treatment of a girl he finds outside the local convent where she lives. The challenge is that the convent’s influence extends into all areas of the town’s life. We’re forced to ask ourselves how far we are willing to go to help another person, even when the risk of harm to those closest to us is high. How much of our family’s safety might we sacrifice to save another? Although the story is sad at its heart, the book is beautifully written and completely satisfying. The 2024 film based on the book is an excellent follow-up. —Jessica Daniels, director, PhD Program, The Fletcher School

Victorian Psycho, by Virginia Feito. This book is not for everyone. I picked it up at my local library after seeing it on the recommended shelf without knowing about it, but I am so glad I did. This short novel is told in first-person narration by a young governess who you quickly realize is a serial killer. She takes out her anger on the families and households she serves, and the inner dialogue gives the reader glimpses of a larger critique of a corrupt society that deserves what it gets. It feels a bit like American Psycho by Bret Easton Ellis set on an episode of Downton Abbey. The writing is very sharp. The author has incredible wit, and she expertly uses flowery prose evocative of the era to describe incredibly disturbing imagery in a strange juxtaposition that sucks you in. It’s gory, shocking, macabre—and really, really, funny. It horrified me and made me equally horrified that I caught myself laughing out loud so often. — Amanda K. Rowley, director of marketing and communications, School of Arts and Sciences

A Wrinkle in Time, by Madeleine L’Engle. Maybe you read this book in elementary school, but hear me out: you haven’t actually read this book until you’ve reread it as an adult. The main trio—Meg, Charles, and Calvin—follow their curiosity into different worlds in search of Meg and Charles’s father, a scientist whose research has trapped him in time. As a kid, I was taken with the adventure and the terrific prospect of meeting creatures like Aunt Beast. As an adult, I was genuinely moved by the framing of what goodness means, by the relatable messiness of the main character, and by the vibrant affirmation that many powers—seen and unseen—are conspiring always for peace. If you need a book that feels somehow both out-of-this-world and familiar, indulgent and informative, this might be your perfect summer read. —Nora Bond, AG16, associate director for programs, University Chaplaincy

POETRY

A Timbered Choir, by Wendell Berry. This spring and summer, I’m sitting with a number of books and essays by Wendell Berry. The 90-year-old Kentucky farmer and author has written dozens of books, from novels to collections of essays to many works of poetry. Berry’s writings, much of which are available at Tisch Library, are a treat for summer. The agrarian essays on farming and animals and nature connect me to the living world around me. So much of this writing authored by a person so different from me—I am not a Christian nonagenarian farmer in Kentucky—resonates deeply with me, with themes of God, community, self-reliance, and nature. Berry has published many “Sabbath Poems” over the years, inspired by his long solitary Sunday nature walks. The volume on my desk right now, A Timbered Choir, is a collection of his sabbath poems from 1979 to 1997. My favorite poem in the volume is called “The Old Man Climbs a Tree.” The poem, written when Berry was in his early 60s, recounts an old man needing to tie a rope high in a tree, and realizing the only way to do it is to climb. The man is fearful but determined. And how inspiring it is up there when he reaches the top! “The treetops are another world, smelling of bark / a stratum of freer air and larger views, from which he saw the world he lived in / all day until now, its intimate geography changed by his absence and by the height he saw it from.” Read this book, or any other by Berry, if you haven’t yet explored his work. —Eitan Hersh, A05, professor of political science, School of Arts and Sciences

NONFICTION

Alexander at the End of the World: The Forgotten Final Years of Alexander the Great, by Rachel Kousser. This vivid history begins in the royal Persian city of Persepolis in 330 BCE, as Alexander of Macedon marches in after defeating the army of King Darius III. Soon enough, he torches it to the ground, after looting it of all the valuables that could be carted off. It sets a pattern for Alexander, always looking to the next country to conquer. In this telling, which reads almost like a novel, Alexander comes across as clever, wily, and brilliant, with courage bordering on the foolhardy. He is also mighty young—23 when he destroys the palaces of Persepolis. With his motley crew of Macedonians, Greeks, Persians, Sogdians, and others, he keeps heading east, searching for what he thinks is the ocean at the end of the world, before finally reaching the Indian Ocean. His troops are weary, though—they just want to go home. Eventually, after seeing the riches of India—and suffering battle wounds—he turns back, braving mountains and deserts, arriving in Babylon only to die there in 323 BCE. Alexander’s legacy in the vast territories he conquers is considerable, felt even to this day; learning how it all came about in this book is fascinating. But having also learned the many horrific things he inflicted on so many conquered peoples, I can’t call him Great—I just think of him as Alexander of Macedon. —Taylor McNeil, senior news and audience engagement editor, University Communications and Marketing

Assyria: The Rise and Fall of the World’s First Empire, by Eckart Frahm. At the heart of Mesopotamia, in what today is northern Iraq, the small city-state of Ashur arose around 2000 BCE, starting small as a farming enclave, then grew slowly, trading goods with neighboring city-states. By the time of the Bronze Age collapse around 1200 BCE, it was well enough established to survive and then thrive. Within a hundred years, it was expanding and fighting almost annual wars with its neighbors with the usual goal: getting more and better stuff—and accruing power. Assyria’s rulers created a standing army—an innovation at the time—that was known for its exceptional brutality in an era when plain old brutality was the norm. By the late 800s BCE, Assyria had what Frahm calls the world’s first empire—direct control of conquered territories from northern Egypt and the Levant and even Anatolia all the way to what is now Iran. But all it took to fall apart was one exceptionally bad leader. Ashurbanipal, who ruled for almost 40 years (668-631), “was a spiteful, brutal man who lived in constant need of affirmation,” Frahm writes. Not long after he died, Assyria’s enemies attacked. By 612 BCE, Assyria had been leveled, wiped off the map, the empire merely a memory. Frahm tells this story very well, with terrific details thanks to the survival of copious cuneiform-covered clay tablets and bas reliefs that detail royal and everyday life. Assyria’s world as portrayed here was in some ways deeply alien to ours, but in others, strikingly familiar. —Taylor McNeil, senior news and audience engagement editor, University Communications and Marketing

The Coaching Shift, by Shonna D. Waters and Brodie Gregory Riordan. The authors were two of my professors from Georgetown University, and their book is a great read for anyone looking to learn about and reflect on their coaching abilities. The book uses relatable content drawn from everyday scenarios, both professionally and personally. As the title suggests, it explores how adopting a coaching mindset and skillset can transform you, your interactions, and the world around you. The book is divided into three sections, focusing on you, diving into coaching skills, and exploring your coaching impact. It’s a short, engaging read, with visuals and interactive exercises included in each chapter, and an appendix to deepen your learning. Personally, this book helped me explore and strengthen key areas of my own development—especially my understanding of emotions, listening abilities, and appreciation for different perspectives, among many others.—Meredith Hicks-Ogburn, talent acquisition specialist, Human Resources

Dust and Light, by Andrea Barrett. I have read all 10 of Andrea Barrett’s short story collections and novels, many historical and focusing on explorers and scientists of different stripes. I love her lucid writing, vivid characters, and deeply researched prose. When I found out about her new book of essays “on the art of fact in fiction,” I knew I had to read it. Dust and Light is a slim book that delineates Barrett’s careful art and craft, exploring how she finds her subjects, researches them, and comes to embody them. She discusses her processes of writing and rewriting, showing what she didn’t think worked and how she fixed it, and analyzes other writers such as Virginia Woolf. I was reminded of reading George Saunders’ A Swim in a Pond in the Rain, in which he takes several short stories by different brilliant Russian writers and deconstructs them so we can learn why they’re so good. Reading this book is like attending a master class, but in a more intimate setting. Barrett discusses what she sees as the differences between history, biography, and what she terms “literary historical fiction.” She argues that while facts are important and writers should get them right, what’s even more important is finding ways to convey the feeling of what it would be like to live in a particular era. To do this, Barrett describes reading widely, traveling to places she’s writing about, and learning everything she can about a particular subject—no detail is too random, since writers of fiction can never be entirely sure of where their narrative will take them. The evocative essays in this book are rich with detail and ripe with advice. I suspect this is a book that students of writing will return to time and again. I know that I will. —Julie Dobrow, distinguished senior lecturer, Eliot-Pearson Department of Child Study and Human Development; director, Center for Interdisciplinary Studies

Emperor of all Maladies, by Siddhartha Mukherjee. Besides any of Frederik Backman’s novels, which are wonderful summer reads for those seeking beautifully crafted stories of people struggling to be themselves, one of my favorite summer book recommendations over the years continues to be Siddhartha Mukherjee’s Emperor of all Maladies. With fine storytelling, Mukherjee recounts the hunt to cure cancer and the emergence of chemotherapy, describing not only the science, but also the human drama of early pioneering physicians and patients. By also sharing his own journey from medical student to oncologist, he transforms what might have been a dry recounting of science into a deeply human tale, reminding us that the best doctors are great scientists with big hearts. In a world where technology touches everyone, Mukherjee’s descriptions of cancer researchers can be role models for all leaders: relentlessly curious; tackling problems that matter; resilient and biased to action to innovate, experiment, fail, and try again; and humble, deeply caring for all. Together, Backman and Mukherjee remind us that compassion and community will make this a better world for all. —Kevin Oye, executive director and professor of the practice, Gordon Institute

God Is Not Great: How Religion Poisons Everything, by Christopher Hitchens. The death of Christopher Hitchens in 2011 must have been in many ways a relief to those he debated over the years. “Hitch,” as he was called, was known for his outrageous intelligence, disarming demeanor, and his insane sense of wit. To be honest, even those who hated him have tipped their hats over the years on the passing of, in some ways, the world’s greatest atheist. His bestseller God Is Not Great is a meticulously detailed and thorough argument for how religion is, in fact, not great. He outlines the atheist proposition in two ways. The first is that he is not attempting to disprove the existence of a supernatural entity that has created all we know, but rather that the evidence that would support that claim is highly suspect. In his telling, the extraordinary suspension of the natural order (virgin births, numerous resurrections, burning bushes), requires extraordinary evidence, which religion cannot provide. But Hitch goes deeper. He begs the reader to answer the question: But if it was true, why would you want it? In the case of Christianity, why would you want to surrender to an omnipotent entity, that judges all you do, and all you think, where you can be convicted of such. The ever-present 1984 references to “thought crime” almost write themselves. At its core the book gives credit to religion as being our first attempt to explain things, and at some point, that had its place. However, science, math, and technology are real, and every day more evidence is presented that detail just how much we don’t know, while religion has provided none. Certainty is the enemy of the good, Hitch says, and that religion today is a way for people to control what others do in their real lives, with a promise of a better one to come. —Rich DeCapua, senior associate dean of students and deputy chief student life officer for Arts, Sciences and Engineering

How the World Made the West: A 4,000 Year History, by Josephine Quinn. The modern West, which is often portrayed as unique in world history, is just one more stage in the evolution of human societies, Quinn says. In this fascinating book, she argues that thousands of years of history from all over the world fed into what became “Western civilization.” She begins in Byblos in 2000 BCE—on what is now the coast of Lebanon—and proceeds with short chapters highlighting the history of places and peoples all the way to 1349 CE. She may or may not prove her thesis, but she convinced me of the continuity of human “civilization”—with all its barbarity and beauty, of which Western civilization is merely the latest example. My biggest takeaway was the power of trade: her descriptions through the millennia show how trade was ubiquitous and far reaching—did you know the biggest caches of coins from the Roman Empire outside of Europe and the Mediterranean are found in South India, because the Romans had to pay for all sorts of Indian luxury goods? And it wasn’t just the exchange of cool stuff, but ideas and people and everything that goes with them. That’s the civilizational idea: exchange—sometimes fair, sometimes not—is what makes the world go round. —Taylor McNeil, senior news and audience engagement editor, University Communications and Marketing

In the Rhododendrons: A Memoir with Appearances by Virginia Woolf, by Heather Christle, A04. This poignant and prismatic account of a mother-daughter relationship by a Tufts alumna is also part travelogue, part literary criticism, part pandemic diary, and part personal reckoning. At its center are London’s Kew Gardens, which offer Christle a stable point around which to weave family stories, cultural history, and her own individual memories into a mutually illuminating tapestry. The life and work of Virginia Woolf, who sets one of her early stories at Kew, become a lens through which Christle can approach the painful parts of her and her mother’s past—and a mediating figure that provides perspective and assistance in piecing together their fragile present. As adolescent trauma blends with adult examination, we’re treated to lush descriptions of London’s cityscape, subtle commentaries on Woolf’s writing, and tender portrayals of complex family dynamics. At the same time, there are affecting depictions of the book’s own troubled composition during the COVID-19 quarantine, which forced Christle to postpone research trips to the UK and to hole up in a windowless closet used as a home office. We end with an exultant midnight visit to the real-life setting for one of Woolf’s most beloved novels, which shows us how literature can loosen if not totally liberate us from the confinement of our experiences. —John Lurz, associate professor of English, School of Arts and Sciences

Italy Reborn: From Fascism to Democracy, by Mark Gilbert. This book examines 20th-century Italian history with a focus on political developments. It centers on how Italy shifted from fascism to representative democracy, highlighting the challenges and conflicts the country faced during World War II. The detailed historical narrative is organized into two main sections: one covering events before 1946, and the other addressing developments after 1946. The first part includes a preview of the societal divisions in the late 19th century, to the rise of fascism and World War II. The second part starts with the different political constituencies engaging in democratic compromises towards a new republican constitution and democratic elections. The emergence of a Christian democracy in the context of the Cold War gave rise to a centrist regime that held up to various rearrangements and events of disorder. The narrative concludes in the early 1950s, as the central political figure’s mission is fulfilled, and the nation embarks on a new period of European modernity. The democratic institutions created in the post-World War II period provided a solid foundation for renewal and progress. While the political historical perspective is revisionist, the robust institutions that resulted clearly demonstrate the significance of the narrative. This is an enjoyable read! —Marcelo Bianconi, professor of economics, School of Arts and Sciences 

Judgement at Tokyo, by Gary Bass. The Tokyo war crimes tribunal after World War II sits in the historical shadow of its twin, the Nuremberg trials.  More than that, the tribunal is seen as an ambiguous exercise in justice. As Bass shows, the Tokyo trials, convened to pass judgement on Japan’s aggressive wars across Asia, were pulled in directions not only by the various states comprising it, but by complications of the moment. Goals of holding Japanese leaders accountable ran into the imperatives of stability of a shattered Japan, the demands of a budding Cold War, and the rising wind of decolonization. This last element was exemplified by India’s jurist, Radhabinod Pal, whose impassioned dissent called into question the legitimacy of a victor’s justice meted out by other empires. Such complications and ironies of history abound in a set of trials Bass sees largely as a disappointment in holding perpetrators accountable. This is presented as part of the reason the legacies of the war in Asia can still enflame tensions and explain why Pal remains a hero to some today. Pal is memorialized literally with a shrine in Tokyo and figuratively by right-wing Japanese groups who use his opinions as part of their campaign to vindicate imperial Japan’s war to expand its empire. —David Ekbladh, professor of history, School of Arts and Sciences

Material World: The Six Raw Materials That Shape Modern Civilization, by Ed Conway. I’ve got a type. In the past several years, I’ve read Salt: A World History, Butter: A Rich History, Cod: A Biography of the Fish That Changed the World, Napoleon’s Buttons: How 17 Molecules Changed History, Stuff Matters: Exploring the Marvelous Materials That Shape Our Man-Made World, A History of the World in 6 Glasses, A History of the World in 100 Objects, and A History of the World in 12 Maps. I even recently listened to a podcast episode entitled “How Books About Things That Changed the World…Changed the World.” But until I read Material World: The Six Raw Materials That Shape Modern Civilization by Ed Conway, I was never so enthralled with one of these books that I planned a road trip simply to make my family listen to a chapter. (Parenting lesson: Forcing two teenagers to put down their phones to listen to a stranger read from a book about the manufacturing process of the silicon chips in those very phones is not the recipe for a happy car ride.) Conway digs deep (literally and figuratively) into how six materials—sand, salt, iron, copper, oil, and lithium—have created the world around us. Material World is a thrilling adventure, taking readers from mines miles below the surface of the Earth to rooms so clean no human is allowed to enter. It is a book that feels particularly relevant today as we grapple with tariffs and their impact on international trade, a push for more domestic manufacturing, deals centering on access to rare earth minerals, and the (on again/off again) push for clean energy. —Mike Rodman, vice president, University Communications and Marketing 

On the Invisible Palm of God, by Joseph Hurka. On a cold winter day in 1982, a student new to Bradford College took a seat in Seminar D, the classroom of Andre Dubus, who would soon be known as one of the country’s greatest writers of short stories. That student, now an award-winning writer himself, has published a book about how Dubus guided and inspired him, not only as a writer, but as a human being. Joseph Hurka’s new memoir, On the Invisible Palm of God, reads like a novel. Hurka is a master storyteller, and many of the scenes he describes, from the devastation of a horrendous accident to the simple act of clearing snow from a wheelchair ramp, stayed with me long after I’d finished the book. On the Invisible Palm of God is not only a vivid story, but also a moving tribute to a life-changing friendship and the power of literature. Forty-three years after he first entered Seminar D, Hurka is a much-loved mentor to aspiring young authors at Tufts, where he teaches fiction writing. —Carol Wilkinson, retired lecturer in English, School of Arts and Sciences

The Risk It Takes to Bloom, by Raquel Willis. In honor of Women’s History Month in March 2024, activist and journalist Raquel Willis visited Tufts for a fireside conversation named after her debut book, The Risk It Takes to Bloom: On Life and Liberation. The memoir chronicles Willis’ journey of self-discovery and advocacy as she grapples with her sexuality, gender identity, race, and Southern upbringing. Growing up in Georgia in a traditional Black Catholic family, she has little exposure to the LGBTQ+ community until she goes to college at the University of Georgia and begins to find herself and her people. After college, Willis lands a job in journalism and begins getting involved in activism for transgender rights. She goes on to combine her journalism career with her passion for advocacy and climbs the ranks to become one of the leading Black trans activists. Willis weaves together anecdotes about the life experiences that have shaped her character with passages that celebrate and memorialize the LGBTQ+ community and victims of trans violence. The result is a deep and honest look at the pervasive challenges that she and other members of the community face at every turn. This book is a powerful and moving reminder that everyone has the right to bloom and be seen. —Melissa Lee, senior communications specialist, Dean of Students Office

The Spamalot Diaries, by Eric Idle. Foul-mouthed French soldiers, the shrubbery-loving Knights Who Say Ni, coconut banging squire Patsy—these famed characters, along with so many more, from Monty Python and the Holy Grail (1975) were my introduction as a child to the absurd antics of this zany British comedy troupe. For anyone somehow unfamiliar with this beloved cult classic film, it is a side-splittingly hilarious and surreal reimagining of the Arthurian legend, chock full of truly silly bits. Fast-forward 30 years, when founding Python member Eric Idle, along with co-creator John Du Prez and director Mike Nichols, decided to make a Broadway musical version of this tale. Idle’s newest book The Spamalot Diaries is a delightfully entertaining recounting of the lead-up to its Broadway premiere in March 2005—starting a year prior with the first read-throughs and rehearsals in New York. Through journal entries and email exchanges, he takes us behind the scenes of the often fraught and messy process of getting a production of this scale off the ground: musical numbers are re-worked endlessly only to be scrapped altogether, the ever-changing and sometimes conflicting needs of the cast and crew are juggled, creative battles are waged and bruise some egos along the way. But everyone’s passion for and commitment to creating a show that remains faithful to the original film and spirit of Monty Python is abundantly clear. I can attest to the finished product’s ultimate success: I had the good luck to see the original cast production back when it first opened, starring Tufts’ own Hank Azaria, Tim Curry, David Hyde Pierce, and Sara Ramirez. Idle brings great wit and levity to this highly enjoyable read. —Julia Keith, senior program administrator for communications and engagement, International Center 

Waiting on the Moon: Artists, Poets, Drifters, Grifters, and Goddesses, by Peter Wolf. There’s so much to like about this memoir by the former lead singer of the J. Geils Band. First, Wolf went to the School of the Museum of Fine Arts, so I like to think that Tufts can now claim him as one of us (never mind that the SMFA wasn’t formally part of Tufts back then). Director David Lynch was his roommate for a while during those years. Second, there’s a lot of great content about Boston-area music venues from the 1960s to the 80s. The book is also full of interesting stories about the artists and musicians who Wolf worked with over the years, along with the actors, writers, producers, and artists that he got to know through his travels, including Julia Child, Jack Nicholson, Faye Dunaway, Bob Dylan, Van Morrison, Alfred Hitchcock, Peter Sellers, and more. His reflections on creativity, risk taking, and managing relationships are incredibly engaging. And the format of the book makes it a great summer read: short chapters that don’t have to be read in any particular order. Finally, the book has made me want to go and look up songs from the many artists he’s worked with, but whose music I don’t know well, like Merle Haggard, John Lee Hooker, Sly Stone, and Muddy Waters. —Deborah J. Schildkraut, John Richard Skuse, Class of 1941, Professor of Political Science