Rutabaga's Reads 2026: Part 8

Will this finally be a year with two nonfiction posts? Who’s to say for certain at this point, but at least I’ve got one done. For the nonfiction readers out there, what do you like to read?

Accidentally on Purpose (Apr. 22, 2025) by Kristen Kish.

   With Stef Ferrari.

She once thought her trajectory would find her as a globe-trotting businesswoman. When Kristen Kish was a teen working a pretzel stand or doing some modeling, she never pictured herself as a winner of Top Chef and, later, an Emmy-nominated host. Kish grew up in the Midwest (Michigan), a Korean adoptee trying to fit in with her female peers who were obsessing over dating boys and dressing in the latest trends. When she drops university, it’s her mother who suggests culinary school. She recollects her days as a proud 22-year-old looking for an executive chef role despite her lack of experience and reminding herself of the importance of line cooks and being willing to work as one. Kish reflects on her introduction to Top Chef and the process it took to become a contestant. She shares her inner turmoil growing up a closeted queer and how freeing it was to share the news with those closest to her. She talks about the opportunities that have opened up to her since her Top Chef win. She reminisces how she met her wife, that it wasn’t love-at-first-sight or an adorable meet-cute. It began with a professional hug and an Arlo Grey plate.

            The life of a chef shall never be for me, but Kish’s insight into the high-octane, high-stress, frazzling world of food is fascinating, tender and tricky, but once Kish finds her food-centric path, that’s when her passion and determination shine. It’s a story of growth and a search for the self. Yes, it’s about her culinary journey, too, and the unexpected ways in which doors can open when you open yourself up to possibilities, even knowing the anxiety it will/can cause. Kish’s road has been winding, as most paths tend to be, and while it looks like she’s had a whole lot of luck on her side, she’s dealt with disappointment, high expectations, sexism, disrespect, trash talk, fear and shame and manages to rise above it all, taking the high road and not letting small-minded people derail her. She doesn’t get into the nitty-gritty like some readers might prefer, especially when she’s mad, and as detailed as her account is, it can feel like some details are still missing. All that said, her memoir is authentically her and, because of that, triumphant as well. Her life of aspiration is also one of inspiration.

The Blood Countess (Feb. 17, 2026) by Shelley Puhak.

It’s said that she tortured and killed over 600 girls. It’s said that she bathed in the blood of her virginal victims. When Countess Elizabeth Bathory was found, she was allegedly caught in the act of murdering another of her maids and had blood on her hands. She was captured and walled up in a tower, never to be seen again except in an uppermost barred window. While so many in the late 1500s and early 1600s believed this to be true, and even the Guinness World Records book listed her as the “Most prolific serial killer (female)” for 50 years, historians raise doubts as to the legitimacy of these claims. Was the Blood Countess the monster that many people (mostly men who didn’t know her) accused her of being?  Could the Blood Countess have been a victim herself, made part of a witch-hunt after she became a widow with a Hungarian aristocratic lineage that went way back? She might’ve been the target of one of the most successful disinformation campaigns in history. For her book, Puhak traces the Countess’ well-to-do early life through her significant marriage to Count Francis Nadasdy, the Black Lord, to her downfall. She’s assertive and smart in a time when neither trait is expected or appreciated in women, and it is a tumultuous time.

            While this book is not overly long (only 210 pages through the Epilogue), it is weighed down by doubts and questions, plus too many men who lust for power/money/favor/land. Puhak’s extensive research takes what’s been written before and factors in new archival evidence to shed light on centuries-old assumptions. Reading it is hard, and it’s hard to imagine what it must’ve been like for the Countess to feel attacked from so many sides when all she’s doing is trying to manage her substantial landholdings, protect and raise her kids and oversee the people around her who also depend on her. She’s feisty, but she’s also a worrier. This reads like a revelatory whodunit that’s turning fabrications and blood-soaked mythology on its head. It’s a sordid, grim legend and an enraging, eye-opening journey that reveals how far some will go to destroy a woman in power.

Every Day I Read (Dec. 2, 2025) by Hwang Bo-Reum.

   Shanna Tan, translator.

In this nonfiction book, the author invites readers to reflect on one’s relationship with reading and the books one chooses. There are “53 Ways to Get Closer to Books.” In other words, this book contains 53 short chapters. It encourages readers to read bestsellers as well as beyond bestsellers, to read classics, poetry and novels, to read what you’re interested in along with books beyond what you’re interested in. It prompts readers to read aloud and not only to oneself, to read widely and deeply, to collect quotes and write book reviews. It nudges readers to join book clubs, to not be afraid to discuss books and to take time for difficult books. And she asks, “What Have You Been Reading?”

            When I first started this book, my initial reaction was that it might not be for me. I felt it might feel too philosophical. Fortunately, I don’t like to quit books and so I can now rave about this one’s significance. I love books, and I love reading, but Hwang loves both more. This love letter to reading celebrates books of all types, even down to reading multiple books at once (a norm for me). Reading is intimate and personal, but it’s also a shared experience, one that can include a community. Here is a book that makes you reflect; it is highly introspective. It ended up being absorbing, and I flew through it. Hwang reminds us that “reading helps us confront our inner selves,” but we must also realize that we can only do that if we’re willing to challenge our reading selves. I can’t say I’ll regularly push myself to read deeply, but I do know that, like the author, I will live my life reading. Always.

            Powerful lines: “We see what others choose to show us. We see the curls in their hair, but not the tangles in their hearts.”

            Also by the author (fiction): Welcome to the Hyunam-dong Bookshop

Rutabaga's Reads 2025: Part 13

Here is my nonfiction compilation post for the year. I had hopes of completing a second one, but it’s already September and reading nonfiction is never my strong suit, so it’s moved onto being a 2026 goal.

Change the Recipe: Because You Can’t Build a Better World Without Breaking Some Eggs (Apr. 22, 2025) by José Andrés.

   With Richard Wolffe.

Food is powerful. Food can be an introduction to other cultures or regions. It can cement traditions, and it can be a love language. Food is sustenance and brings people together. José Andrés is best-known as a Michelin-starred chef, but he’s also a humanitarian, TV host, author, husband and father of three. The humanitarian leader founded World Central Kitchen (WCK) in 2010. It’s a nonprofit dedicated to feeding the hungry. They’re boots-on-the-ground asap after natural and man-made disasters. It’s going to be uncomfortable, but, “Don’t settle for the comfortable or the familiar. That will always be the safety net for a circus performer.” Andrés takes the lifetime of experience he’s gained so far and uses this book as a collection of life lessons. He reminds readers, “It’s up to us to change the recipe.” (The backmatter includes several recipes, as well as a moving eulogy to the seven WCK workers who were killed in Gaza.) Remember to build longer tables, not higher walls.

            From humble beginnings to smashing successes, kitchens to conflict zones, Andrés’ newest authorial bestseller is part memoir, part manifesto and all lively. His rise to celebrity chef is fascinating and his growth into food philanthropist is inspirational. His conviction that food brings us closer together and that each of us is capable of contributing to positive change in the world is palpable throughout this slim volume. “We’re all in this country together. We’re all on this planet together. Your success is my success. We the People.” His insights are heartwarming and funny. His wisdom is hard-won and ever-growing. His heart is big, his patriotism apparent and his dedication to feeding the hungry is unrivaled. Let’s all bring food to the table like we’re having the biggest, most joyous potluck. We all have the power to help!

Growing Up Urkel (Nov. 19, 2024) by Jaleel White.

“Did I do that?” – Steve Urkel, Family Matters. Jaleel White’s memoir takes readers on his journey, from booking a commercial when he was three to landing one of the most iconic and memorable character roles of the 1990s to beyond TGIF. Readers like me may not have known Steven Urkel was only supposed to be a one-episode arc. He shares with readers his naïveté in dealing with the “game” of show business. He talks of his parents’ goal of him going to university, their joy when he was accepted at UCLA and the tricky balance of being a college student while also being an actively working famous actor. He isn’t shy about the high highs and the low lows, his luxury rides and name-dropping. He says his story is “a testament to the power of perseverance, authenticity, and reinvention.”

            I checked this book out from my local library. I rooted for it and for White, having grown up loving Family Matters and the entire TGIF lineup. I pictured reading his memoir to be nostalgic. It wasn’t. I struggled like I might not make it across the finish line. Don’t misread me. White’s book is insightful, and his journey is memorable. He’s seen so much and therefore has a lot of industry knowledge and a plethora of experience. I don’t doubt that his parents raised him with core values, but it’s hard to believe in his multiple-times-mentioned humility when he’s seeking out the hot girls and the “it” people and overdoing the name-dropping. There’s who he played hoops with, whose places he went to and the nightclubs he once attended with a mega rapper. He also dropped names of those in important positions before ticking off their less desirable attributes and said that he doesn’t give into pettiness, except for that one time when he wanted the pro dancer to sit in coach. Then there’s one moment in Chapter 15 where he can’t even be bothered to list an actress’ name, just that the movie starred “an unknown young actress,” after all these previous chapters of name-dropping. His story didn’t feel authentic to me and overall has a veneer of pettiness. Jaleel White could be the nicest guy in the world, but that’s not the impression given from the book. Yes, he’s lived a life many of us will never live. He writes his memoir like it’s an ode to the big life he’s led, but he’s really continuing to live in his own shadow. He may have grown up Urkel, but it doesn’t truly seem like he’s grown up.

In Gad We Trust (Jan. 14, 2025) by Josh Gad.

It’s easy to hear the name Josh Gad and think of his smashing success as the original Elder Cunningham in The Book of Mormon on Broadway or his ultra-popular voice role of Olaf in the worldwide popular Frozen film franchise or his turn as LeFou in the iconic, live-action Beauty and the Beast movie. As tends to be the case with people, Josh Gad is so much more than his famous roles. For the first (and possibly last) time, Josh Gad gives readers a “Tell-Some” on a variety of personal topics. He talks of his parents’ divorce and the lasting impact it’s had on his life. He shares his struggle with weight and being typecast, his take on fatherhood and growing up Jewish. He talks of his history as a speech and debate team member and, at the time he was writing his book, he was “somehow the most decorated speech competitor in the country, a stat that still humbles me to my core and boggles my mind.” (Note: The National Forensic League has since changed its name to the National Speech & Debate Association.) He talks of working with some who have passed like Robin Williams and Chadwick Boseman. No topic is off-limits. He encourages us to keep moving forward and take a chance at those riskier choices. Because that’s what he has done, and through the struggles and the lows, there have been incredible highs and a charismatic snowman who likes warm hugs.

            From what I’ve seen Gad in, he’s an entertaining performer. Now having made his adult debut with a memoir, he’s an entertaining author. His stories are reflective and transformative. The man admits loving to talk about himself, but any arrogance is offset by his vulnerability, especially when readers can see themselves in their own vulnerable moments, from body issues to losing loved ones (family and friends alike) to dealing with all forms of racism and discrimination. His characters may be known for garnering laughter, but Gad undoubtedly needed all the mental toughness he could muster to get where he is today. Gad’s story is conversational and cheeky, heartfelt and hilarious. I knew he had comedic talent, but he’s also a gifted storyteller, and this book has depth.

Rutabaga's Reads 2024: Part 11

We’re getting close to 2024’s end, and it’s finally nonfiction’s turn in the spotlight. As you’ll see if you peruse this post, there’s a variety of nonfiction here. If you’re a nonfiction reader, please share what sorts of nonfiction books you gravitate toward.

Kitty Language: An Illustrated Guide to Understanding Your Cat (June 13, 2023) by Lili Chin.

            Your cat is staring straight at you without blinking or moving. Is she staring deep into your soul? Possibly, but more likely she’s focused on some movement or noise that’s alerted her. If you’ve ever questioned what that tail swish meant, wondered over your cat’s ear flicks or slow-blinked back at your cat, this fun-size guide is here to be an educated visual reference. With language typically short and simple and illustrations informative and vivid, this book vetted by cat behavior consultants and scientists is delightful as well as reputable and factual.

            This practically-pocket-sized nonfiction book is plumb full of playful, animated and informative illustrations by author and illustrator Chin. It’s a fun guide and a quick read into the world of feline behaviors, postures and movements – look at the entire body! – with clear-cut writing and expressive illustrations featuring cats of varying species. The information isn’t groundbreaking, and anyone who’s a cat person – like me! – will already recognize the behaviors and body language from the cats in their own lives. This charming book is an excellent guide for families welcoming their first cat and is an overall good choice for cat lovers and the cat-curious, alike.

Outofshapeworthlessloser (Feb. 6, 2024) by Gracie Gold.

There are three selves to Olympic figure skater Gracie Gold: (1) There’s Grace Elizabeth, her private self, the daughter of an anesthesiologist dad and an ER nurse mom, who likes baggy sweatpants and oversized sweatshirts. (2) Then there’s Gracie Gold, her public persona, the blond, classically pretty, Olympic-level skater. (3) And there’s Outofshapeworthlessloser, her secret self, shaped over years of depression, family troubles, trauma and self-destructive tendencies. Outwardly, Gracie has it all with well-to-do parents who can afford skating lessons and ice time, sparkly costumes and skates. She was the face of the 2014 Sochi Olympics and baked cookies with Taylor Swift. Her public star was as golden as her name, but her private life was crumbling. Food became the one thing she felt she could control, and anorexia and bulimia entered the chat. She even became obsessively dependent on laxatives. Too many years spent with demanding coaches, parents who expected nothing less than gold, the trauma of sexual assault and her own debilitating perfectionism took its toll. She made the choice to enter treatment for an eating disorder and anxiety, certainly, but also for depression and suicidal ideation. All that glitters is not gold, and Gracie Gold holds nothing back.

            I have always loved figure skating. My all-time favorites are Kristi Yamaguchi and Michelle Kwan. For anyone who idolizes figure skating, this isn’t the book for you. Or maybe it is exactly what you should read, especially if you, or someone close to you, is a competitive figure skater. Gold is boldly candid, unflinchingly personal and unreservedly defiant. Her memoir is stunning in its talk on the topic of mental health, which is, unfortunately, still too often seen as a taboo subject, and U.S. Figure Skating’s lack of care for its athletes. Gold’s memoir also tried my patience. While I can acknowledge that we only truly know our own experiences, Gold can come across as selfish. She is not the only person on this planet with big feelings and big emotions. She’s not the only person who’s experienced trauma, but sometimes her writing makes it seem like she is. Through thick and thin, though, she has picked herself up again and again and again, and hopefully she is always the coach that skaters need her to be!

Weird But True! Disney (Sept. 26, 2023) by National Geographic Kids.

In this edition of the bestselling Weird But True! series, the focus is Disney. Hardcore fans may know plenty of facts about the history of Disney, the theme parks, the cruise ships, etc., but for the casual fan, this book shares “300 wonderful facts to celebrate the magic of Disney.” There are fun facts and surprising secrets behind everything from Disney films, park attractions, Walt Disney and more. For example, did you know that the 82-foot-tall fireplace in Disney’s Wilderness Lodge mimics the layers of the Grand Canyon, which represent 1.6 billion years of geologic history? Or that the lighthouse built for Pete’s Dragon (1977) was so authentic that the film crew had to get permission from the United States Coast Guard to use it? Discover how many Swarovski diamonds were sewn into just one pair of costume pants for Broadway’s Aladdin. Or how many balloons it would actually take to lift Carl’s house in Up (2009) in real life!

            I’m one of those casual Disney fans. You know the ones. The ones who typically visit Walt Disney World (WDW) Resort every other year, when, in reality, they wish they could visit every other month! It’s thanks to a Mother-Daughter WDW trip two months ago that I realized this book existed. I saw it advertised in multiple Disney Transport buses that we rode on. All Disney fans of all ages should own this book. Even if hardcore fans happen to know all 300 facts before reading this, it contains accompanying pictures in full color. It’s on brand with Nat Geo Kids’ excellence in nonfiction aimed at younger readers. For Disney adults like me, it’s got whimsy, nostalgia and magic. And I’m wishing I was right back at WDW!

"Spare" by Prince Harry

Spare (Jan. 10, 2023) by Prince Harry, The Duke of Sussex.

It’s easy to relegate Prince Harry to the role of second son, the Spare, the once lost-looking young boy trailing along at his mother’s funeral procession, growing up to act out. But he’s much more than how the media and tabloids have painted him. He’s always a son, a brother, later an uncle, a husband and a father. He’ll always be part of a royal bloodline, a veteran of the British Army and an advocate for social causes. Parsed into three parts, we see a carefree Harry who’s close to his adoring mother, the late Princess Diana, and the dramatic turn when she’s tragically gone, and he’s struggling at school, at life. There’s his time finding his place in the military and awakening his passion for social advocacy. And then he finds Meghan Markle, whose beauty strikes him “like a punch in the throat.” Their love story is a whirlwind fairytale filled with nightmare thorns.

            Full admission: I am guilty of growing up thinking of Prince Harry as a bad boy, up to no good. In comparison to my goody-two-shoes self, he actually was a bad boy. But he’s also had to live in a spotlight that I never will, and I can’t begin to imagine what that’d be like or how horribly I’d handle it, what vices I might turn to, to try to cope with such celebrity.

            Harry’s memoir is refreshingly insightful, compelling and harrowing. From doing his own laundry to drinking and controlled substance usage to PTSD, from his late mother to now-wife, from military service to racist and misogynistic attacks on Meghan and her family, and the vulture-like media and infernal paps (paparazzi), Harry leaves no stone unturned. One cannot blame him for wanting to share his story, and I appreciate his transparency. He can be disparaging, even toward members of his own family, but it’s no secret that there’s been a rift. There’s self-doubt and self-assurance, vulnerability and strength. This autobiography is intimate and authentic, as Harry details his adventurous road of highs and lows, from grief and panic to healing and love. Maybe you want to pick this up because of the hype or the spilling of royal tea, but I hope you stay for the candor.

            Since I empathize with sweating easily, these lines made me chuckle: “I wasn’t sure I could endure this kind of hot. The Australian Outback had a climate I didn’t understand and which my body couldn’t seem to accept. ... I wilted at the mere mention of heat: how was I supposed to put up with an oven inside a blast furnace inside a nuclear reactor set on top of an active volcano?” (p. 85)

Rutabaga's Reads 2023: Part 9

Thanks to my local library, I had this compilation in the works last year. (All three are library checkouts.) Now, I finally present my nonfiction compilation for 2023.

Beyond the Wand (Oct. 18, 2022) by Tom Felton.

Known as the bleached-blonde nemesis Draco Malfoy to Daniel Radcliffe’s Harry Potter, Tom Felton gives readers insight into what it was like for him to grow up in the wizarding world and enter life outside of it. His turns in movies like The Borrowers and Anna and the King meant he came into the Harry Potter franchise with some film experience, but nothing could prepare him for what it would really mean to land the iconic role of Draco. Having never read the books and fudging his way through the audition (something Draco would definitely do), he didn’t know the huge pop culture phenomenon it already was and how much more it would be after eight films. Unlike his costars playing Harry, Ron (Rupert Grint) and Hermione (Emma Watson), Tom would attend regular school when not filming. He even worked at Bury Hill Fisheries, Surrey, in the early days of Potter, fitting for someone who loves fishing. He lets readers know some of the magic that went on behind the scenes to create the magical movies so many of us know, but far from them taking away the magic of Harry Potter, those chapters give valuable insight to readers who are part of a dedicated fandom. There is reflection on cinematic experiences with greats like Alan Rickman, Dame Maggie Smith and Ralph Fiennes (including on that infamous most-awkward-hug-ever with Voldemort) to his work with some of the other young actors. Not a spoiler: his love for Emma is real, but it isn’t the romantic love that some may think does or should exist. Then there is Tom’s life post-Potter. There’s some success onscreen, which leads to free designer clothes, being lent swanky BMWs and red carpets, but then there is the lonely, disillusioned part of Tom’s life in L.A. Like people the world over, Tom’s navigating life, but unlike many, he’s weathering the ups and downs of fame, and he invites us to read of his journey.

            Tom Felton’s memoir is actually pretty bloody brilliant. He’s extremely candid, from sharing that his first interaction with nine-year-old Emma was anything but a meet-cute to his youthful antics that lent him a troublemaker status all the way to his initial denial of substance abuse. He thought the intervention was a “massive overreaction to a non-existent problem,” as his vices “amounted to no more than a few beers a day, the odd whiskey and maybe a couple of spliffs.” I never knew that he attended rehab. In that phase of his life, he was far from the shining lights of any film production or red carpeted event and definitely not the “Broomstick Prick” of his Draco Malfoy days. He was a man who’d hit rock bottom, who might have a fortune in his bank account, but was not rich. The depth of this memoir took me by surprise with its Veritaserum honesty. It’s charming and entertaining, captures the growing pains of growing up (albeit on a scale involving fame) and showcases the toll that mental health turmoil can take on a person. There are no spells pouring out of this book, nor any curses to deflect, but Felton’s memoir is its own sort of magical and enchanting.

Uncle of the Year (& Other Debatable Triumphs) (May 16, 2023) by Andrew Rannells.          

The star of Broadway’s The Book of Mormon shares essays on everything from musical theatre (a given) to therapy, ambition, the uncertainty of adulthood, the water bottle tour of L.A. and Mark Ruffalo (he and his wife are, apparently, very kind people). Along the way, Rannells also navigates aging, dating, bad jobs, avoiding the gym, the unglamorous side of performing at the Tony Awards and growing up a little boy in Omaha, Nebraska, wanting Malibu Barbie for his birthday (spoiler: he got Malibu Ken, too). As his title suggests, he is an uncle, though “of the year” may be a bit of a stretch. He has 10 nieces and nephews. He sometimes curses in front of them inappropriately and, due to distance and his can-be-grueling schedule, he’s missed multiple birthdays and holidays. But Uncle Andy is silly, and he can make them laugh. He’s undoubtedly the fun one. His dedication states: “To all the aunts and uncles out there. Especially those without their own children. We are trying our best.” Because he is. And we are.

            I love this nonfiction book. No debate needed; this one is a triumph. I already knew him to be an accomplished performer, but he’s a charming raconteur and witty writer, too. Rannells is candid, which made me laugh out loud many times but sometimes made my heart hurt for him. His book is insightful, hilarious and poignant. If my delight in reading a book could generate sunshine and sparkles, there’d be sunshine and sparkles for days. Anyone reading this likely feels as though Andrew Rannells should be one’s new best friend, so relatable is his writing, even though, in my case, I have no history as a thespian. But the blend of humor and heart, sarcasm and stress hit true. Fortunately, his days of making “tens of dollars” are gone. Now, if only I could say the same for myself!

We Were Dreamers: An Immigrant Superhero Origin Story (May 17, 2022) by Simu Liu.

Marvel’s first Asian superhero, Simu Liu, shares his origin story, one that is its own kind of heroic, but isn’t without laziness and self-absorption. Simu spent the first four years of his life growing up in Harbin, China, with his paternal grandparents. He was happy there and well-loved, learning from his grandparents as his parents pursued their respective careers in engineering. He shares each parent’s story. They both endured hardships, as growing up during the Cultural Revolution and pursuing an education wasn’t merely an uphill battle, but a tooth-and-nail fight. His parents spent time in the U.S. before settling in Canada, where they finally brought Simu. It’s a drastic change for all of them – for his parents, who didn’t apparently realize the work involved in raising a child – and for Simu, who doesn’t truly know his parents. His trust and sense of security and safety in them is shattered at the age of six when he’s locked out of the family’s apartment as punishment. He spends his formative years with them untrusting and fearful while also wanting to gain their acceptance, and he is the “perfect” child and shining straight-A student. As the cultural divide grows within the family and puberty hits, Simu becomes rebellious and even once runs away from home (though his parents don’t bother to locate him for five days). During his years with his parents, it’s also revealed that his parents were physically violent toward him. University is freedom to him, but his lackadaisical attitude toward schoolwork and attending classes catches up to him and almost costs him a decent summer internship. His life really hits rock bottom when he’s laid off from his first job as an accountant less than a year out of uni (he was out of his element and a “chronic slacker”). But it’s this circumstance that also prompts him to go for his dreams, no matter how not-approved-by-parents they are. He shares the ups and downs of trying to make his way into acting, from answering questionable Craigslist ads to eventually landing his role on Kim’s Convenience to slowly-but-doggedly becoming “an alien with an extraordinary ability” in order to work in Hollywood (and the U.S. in general). The rest may be, as they say, history, but can that already be said when Liu’s only in his early 30s and has a long career ahead of him?

            In a world with Asian stereotypes, Liu subverts what it is to be a model minority by focusing on familial and societal pressures rather than polished accolades. As someone who grew up adopted and very well-loved, reading of his parents’ emotional, psychological and physical abuse toward him was tremendously hard. They’ve since reconciled, but overcoming such a tormented relationship took work. Liu’s autobiography is one of success, dogged determination and community (of the Asian actors who welcomed him), but it’s also one of upheaval, struggle and the pressure placed on him by his parents. His story is far more compassionate than many others’ would be, and his ability to forgive would make any inspirational fiction novelist proud. A celebrity memoir this is, but it’s got heart in its arduous path to being comfortable in one’s own identity and a family healing. Liu’s no-holds-barred candor is blunt and sometimes overwhelming, but I wouldn’t have respected the novel so much if it were less than frankly candid. Simu Liu is more than a dreamer. He’s a person who’s embraced extraordinary circumstances, when they’ve been brilliantly good and when they’ve highlighted his flaws. He’s a human being like we are, albeit one with Marvel superhero as a title.​​​

            Favorite line: “I want to be clear here – in no way did I possess a MENSA-level genius brain; there will be plenty of examples of my idiocy in later chapters that will make you facepalm so hard you’ll leave a bruise.” (p. 98)

Rutabaga's Reads 2022: Part 20

Don’t be deceived. The only reason I have two nonfiction compilation posts in the same year is because I did not post one last year. So don’t suddenly think, “Oh! She’s read more nonfiction than usual this year!”

Dewey: The Small-Town Library Cat Who Touched the World (Sept. 24, 2008) by Vicki Myron.

   With Bret Witter.

On the coldest night in January 1988 in Spencer, Iowa, someone dropped an approximately eight-week-old kitten in Spencer Public Library’s drop box. Tiny and weak with frostbitten paws, the little kitten found comfort with library director, Vicki Myron, right away. He won her over and soon won the staff over. It was a group effort that named him Dewey Readmore Books. Along with the library staff, Dewey won over many of the patrons, too, which snowballed into recognition around the state, the country and other parts of the world! From the pickiest Fancy Feast eater to his Buddha pose to claiming every box (no matter what part of him fit) to greeting patrons to attending meetings and Story Hour, Dewey was extremely dedicated to his role as Library Cat. Of course, he didn’t get paid in dollars, but in pets and lap naps.

            Despite his cat self, Dewey did have humility (for a cat), and he took it in turns to be enthusiastic and thoughtful (/lazy). Dewey seemed to have a sixth sense about those who needed him the most, like when Vicki had her breast cancer scare or when he spent two hours with a woman for seemingly no reason, but it turned out that that woman had just had to put her aged cat to sleep. Dewey wasn’t only a library cat, but a friend.

            Dewey passed away in November 2006 at the age of 19 (or very close to). His start was bleak, but his life was anything but. This story made me laugh, but it also made me cry. Dewey knew the power of relationships, but he was also a cat, so sometimes he just wanted to play with his red ball of yarn or peer down upon you from the light fixtures. I love cats, and I live less than two-and-a-half hours away from this library, so it astounds me that I didn’t know this story. It’s good for the soul. It’s for cat lovers, book lovers and anyone who knows small, Midwestern towns. That said, I believe the junior version of the novel is much more Dewey-centric. This full-length novel that I checked out through ILL had a lot about Vicki’s life and the town of Spencer, including some of its history, which wasn’t necessary and didn’t propel the story forward.

Know My Name (Sept. 24, 2019) by Chanel Miller.

Imagine being known as Emily Doe, a young woman who was sexually assaulted - and originally thought to have been raped - by a Stanford swim team standout. Chanel Miller doesn’t have to imagine it; she was that woman. She tells her story in graphic detail and doesn’t back down from the grueling, harrowing and oppressive trial process, one that seems to protect the perpetrators and defame the victims when they’re already at their most vulnerable. (Quotes: “My pain was never more valuable than his potential.” – Chanel, p. 241; “For Brock, his goal was to integrate, for me it was to isolate.” – Chanel regarding the defense attorney, p. 271) The defendant received empathy where Miller did not. Miller doesn’t pretend to be the most courageous person and shares the insecurities brought on by the shame and isolation she felt, including the ugliness she’d project toward those who love her (such as viciously screaming at her boyfriend). It shouldn’t need to be focused on, but Miller also includes being a person of mixed-race and being bothered when she’s only assumed to be one race, like when the female probation officer, under victim’s race, checked only White (she is Chinese and Caucasian). The book finishes up with her victim impact statement, which was originally published on Buzzfeed and from there went viral (11 million views in four days). There are a lot of lows in the book, yet it also shines with courage, radiates strength and exemplifies the power of words.

            Not only as a woman, but as a human being, I am mortified by what Chanel went through and probably continues to work through to this day. I’m incredibly angry with and disgusted by the behavior of Brock Turner, though I also don’t understand why any person would want to drink to the point of blacking out or just be drunk in general.

            Anyone who’s read this story or tried to read it has an opinion, me included. I can’t imagine the fortitude it took for Chanel to put the story out there. She has her flaws, as we all do, but she’s gutsy and strong. She has suffered, but she has prevailed. She has screamed and had fits and ugly-cried, but she’s also fought through blood, sweat and tears up a steep mountain and showed the world that she’s a survivor. It was hard to read, because it’s a painful, upsetting journey, but that’s what also made it such a dazzling memoir. Chanel won’t be diminished, and none of us should either, for any reason. Her story isn’t one of revenge, but of reclamation.

            P.S. How do you choose books to buy and/or read? In the case of “Know My Name,” I happened to see part of the cover in a Christmas photo card that had been sent to my parents by a former pastor and her husband.

A Very Punchable Face (July 14, 2020) by Colin Jost.

Oh, to have a face that inspires Czech teenagers to attack you with potato salad. Apparently, Colin Jost (of SNL notoriety) has such a face. He also, apparently, has a very punchable face, and his story showcases that he can take a punch, both literally and metaphorically. Here’s a guy who grew up in a family of firefighters on Staten Island, commuted three hours daily to high school, happened to attend Harvard and wound up a comedian. Readers won’t only learn that Jost has a punchable face or that Czech teens once attacked him with potato salad. Readers will also learn how Jimmy Buffett saved his life (with a knife), of an incident where an insect once laid eggs inside his leg (gross) and be treated to the poop chapter (also gross, but supremely hilarious). There are behind-the-scenes stories at SNL and Weekend Update. There’s experiencing the life of a touring stand-up comedian through Jost’s words - from performing in rural college cafeterias to opening for a big name at Radio City Music Hall. There are accomplishments (like hosting the Emmys) and setbacks (like hosting the Emmys). There is no shortage of absurdity and hilarity, but there’s an especially candid and emotional account in the chapter recounting his mom’s experience on 9/11.

            Honestly, I’m not an avid watcher of SNL, past or present, but I’ve watched enough to know that Colin Jost is (was?) a head writer and co-anchors Weekend Update with Michael Che, and I gravitate toward comedic memoirs when I read memoirs. This one did not disappoint! I’m actually surprised by how much I laughed, which might seem odd for a memoir written by a comedian, but too often I’ve not found memoirs by comedians to be very funny. I laughed so hard that I cried when I read the poop chapter, and I’m not normally one for potty/defecation humor. The chapter that most impresses me is the one focused on his mom, one in a long line of firefighters in the family (she’s Dr. Kerry Kelly, and she was chief medical officer for the NYC FD for 24 years. She was the first woman to serve as chief medical officer and the first female doctor to ever join the FDNY). Jost shares his memoir with a healthy dose of self-deprecation. I’ve already mentioned the humor based on how much I laughed, but this is a book that also has lots of heart. It’s written well, and Jost’s candor and wit make it a fast read.

Rutabaga's Reads 2022: Part 11

It looks promising that there *should* be two nonfiction compilations this year. Here is the first one.

Crying in H Mart (Apr. 20, 2021) by Michelle Zauner.

The author also known by her stage name as Japanese Breakfast, Michelle Zauner pauses in her singing and songwriting to give readers her memoir. It’s one of rebellion and regret, angst and endurance, family and food. Zauner tells of what it’s like to grow up in rural Eugene, Oregon, one of not many Asians in a Caucasian landscape with an indomitable Korean mother (“Hers was tougher than tough love. It was brutal, industrial-strength.”). There’s her mother’s harping about skin, beauty and physical appearance and other particular expectations foisted upon her household, but there are treasured moments with her mother in her grandmother’s little apartment in Seoul. She practically flees to the East Coast for college, starts a fledgling band (all must begin somewhere) and meets the one who’ll eventually be her husband. Growing up, the impression is that her Koreanness is oppressive. And her mother is too much, especially when she screams at her daughter, ”I had an abortion after you because you were such a terrible child!” When her mother is diagnosed with terminal pancreatic cancer, things change. After her mom’s death in October 2014, Zauner sharply feels the loss of her mom, of her Korean side, the culture, the language, the food. Especially the food. Fortunately, her story doesn’t end at grief, but continues with a music career that takes flight.

            Right away, Zauner’s candor impresses me. While I can imagine growing up with her mom wasn’t easy, I found myself repulsed by Zauner’s disrespect. To call her a brat would be too kind. But making it beyond those rebellious battle years to the person finding herself, growing and improving, diving into upping her Korean culinary skills, is amazing. There is almost lyrical movement in her journey of finding success growing from grief and being able to immortalize that pathos through music. To be fair, I’m only writing of my impressions reading her memoir; I am not familiar with the artist’s music. I love how Zauner takes initiative in embracing her Korean culture, especially the food, and no longer thinks of her Koreanness as a negative aspect of her (the musician is biracial; her father is Caucasian). She evolves and endures. I was fully immersed in her story, though I couldn’t help comparing our vast differences in upbringing.  Do not miss out on this book! Side effects may include wanting to eat vast amounts of Korean food! :-)

The Korean (Nov. 17, 2021) by Africa Byongchan Yoon.

The daughter of an Ambassador to the United Nations for Cameroon, Suzanne Africa Engo was used to people and highly emotionally intelligent from a young age. She was exposed to other cultures early on, including at the United Nations school at age six and later, at a boarding school in London. As she forged her own path, activism became key to her life. She became a celebrated activist, attending galas with celebrities, living a big, busy, Manhattan life. She also gained 120 pounds. She decided upon a life change to find the person she wanted to be so she could find a husband and have children, but it was a run-in with a Korean halmoni (or halmeoni, meaning grandmother) calling her fat that got her on that new path. As her weight dropped - she lost 110 pounds in a year - so did her feelings toward her Manhattan lifestyle. She ran all the way from NYC to Chicago and met Oprah. She met The Korean, the man who’d become her husband and father of their three children, of all places, in Iowa. She discusses the benefits of meditation in her life, especially through an extremely intense health scare. Through it all, there’s food. Not junk food, but delicious, healthy Korean food with lots of kimchi included, of course!

            For readers who appreciate an ugly-duckling-turned-swan tale, that’s also nonfiction, this may be a story for you. For someone like me, who grew up in a rural area, Yoon’s life seems grandiose, even from an early age. My favorite parts of the story include any mention of Korean food, and the times when she’s mentioning Koreans and their consumption of garlic made me laugh out loud (“Use one clove of garlic, said no Korean ever.”). Sometimes I felt her chapters waxed on too long, like her point was made, but she kept elaborating on the point. It also bothers me where she writes on page 14, “I thought to myself, Well, what do I have to do to have these children, that husband, and that life? They won’t come if I am as fat as I am now!” I don’t like to believe that a person’s size should ever be indicative of one’s worthiness of love. But overall, Yoon’s story is winsome but not without personal challenges. Fortunately, there’s also personal growth and achieving major dreams. Africa Yoon is a bright light to the world, and I expect she’ll continue to shine bright.

            Note: I read this story after hearing of it on the actor Daniel Dae Kim’s Instagram Story, but for those reading this story from the perspective of someone who wants motivation to lose lots of weight, please understand that we all have different circumstances. Yes, Africa lost an impressive amount of weight - 110 pounds in a year - and went on to run over 1,000 miles from NYC to Harpo Studios in Chicago, but most people do not have five free hours one day a week (much less five or six days every week) to devote solely to working out. For others, perhaps they can’t afford gym memberships or personal trainers. And for probably most people, we don’t just personally know top-name yogis or running gurus or fitness/wellness pros on a first-name, we’re-in-each-other’s-contacts-lists basis. Know that it’s all right to do what you can with the resources available to you.

Unfinished: A Memoir (Feb. 9, 2021) by Priyanka Chopra Jonas.*

A dual-continent star, Priyanka Chopra Jonas gives readers insight into her growing-up years in India, her teenage years living with relatives and attending school in the United States, her return to India and her unplanned entrance into the pageant world, and her rise in national (India) and international fame after winning Miss World. Her life has already been an interesting one, from leading what might sometimes have felt like a nomadic lifestyle to jumping into the glittery and bedazzling but highly intense world of pageant competitions to the ups and downs of establishing herself as an actress of repute, both in Bollywood films and her international work. She talks of her involvement as a UNICEF Goodwill Ambassador and how rewarding and heart-wrenching that work is. She tells readers the tough journey her beloved father traversed when he was diagnosed with cancer, how he endured and supported her despite the brutality of the aggressive cholangiocarcinoma that eventually took his life in June of 2013. And, of course, she shares her story of how she first met music star Nick Jonas and the seemingly fairytale, whirlwind adventure their romance-that-led-to-marriage is.

            I did not read Chopra Jonas’ story because of familiarity with her work; I’m mostly not familiar with her work, and while I know she starred on “Quantico,” that wasn’t a show that I ever got into watching. I read her story, because my mind told me to read it, and I’m so glad that I read her lively, engaging memoir. I’m impressed by the importance her parents placed on being good humanitarians and just good people in general. She’s a staunch supporter of women’s rights around the world and it shines through her work as a UNICEF Goodwill Ambassador. Her writing displays her passion for her craft (acting and also producing), exudes warmth and shows tenacity in going for what she wants. There have certainly been remarkable triumphs, but there has also been intense grief and humbling challenges along her rise to fame. She’s candid and bold, charismatic and resilient, ever-inspiring. She is a woman who has a deep love of her family and her culture. For anyone that only thinks of her as a pretty face, think again.

*Professionally, I believe the actress has returned to using Priyanka Chopra, but I included Jonas, for that is how the author’s name is portrayed as the autobiographer.

Rutabaga's Reads 2021: Part 9

Although I had all three books read with plenty of time to spare in 2020, I did not get my nonfiction post onto my blog last year. And, considering it’s already November, I’m cutting it close getting it posted in 2021. If I impress myself, perhaps I’ll manage to get a second nonfiction compilation posted in these remaining weeks. As the saying goes, time will tell.

The Girl with Seven Names (July 2, 2015) by Hyeonseo Lee with David John.

She is the girl with seven names: Kim Ji-hae, Park Min-young, Chae Mi-ran, Jang Soon-hyang, Chae In-hee, Park Sun-ja, Lee Hyeon-seo. Hyeonseo’s life is chronicled from her childhood through the dogged struggle to get her mother and younger brother (Min-ho) to seek asylum in South Korea. As a child, she believed wholly in the Kim regime. As brutal and strict as it was, she trusted that the Kim regime had the North Koreans’ best interests at heart. They took care of them, unlike those unloved South Korean orphans in rags digging for grains of rice in the streets, being kicked by Yankees (a.k.a. Americans). At 17, when she travels to China, she does not return to North Korea. This begins an epic adventure of mostly lows over more than a decade, where she does not see her mother, nor her brother, save one very short reunion. She discovers how hard life is on her own, gaining ID when she isn’t using a legit name, saving money from menial jobs, immersing herself in learning Mandarin out of rushed necessity, keeping her feelings closed off from the public and not tending to trust anyone after all of the corrupt people she’s encountered, including those in the military and law enforcement in varying countries. So many bribes. So much extortion. Her account is horrific, which makes it all the more important that it be shared the world over.

            So much of what is in this book is so horrible that it must be fiction. Except it’s not. The things that happened to Lee, her family and countless others should never happen to human beings, but they did and likely still do. Lee is the epitome of fierce bravery and steadfast courage; it is definitely more than the Hyesan (North Korea, near China) stubbornness that kept her going over a decade before her mom and brother joined her in South Korea. Lee’s story is equally compelling and chilling, beautiful but monstrous, factual yet irrational. During points in the story when she’d mention a specific year, I’d reflect on what I was doing during that year, and the comparison was hard. For example, in the year that Lee was working tirelessly to get her mother and brother to South Korea, I visited South Korea as a tourist, loving the experience of it with no bigger worry than that was my first time on an international trip. I was living an adventure in the country that birthed me while she was trying to get her family there to save their lives. We grow up knowing that North Korea is not a good place, but I really knew nothing until I read this book. If you didn’t care about human rights before, read this story. As horrifying as it is, it needs to be known. Superheroes don’t have anything on Hyeonseo Lee.

            Light highlight: I chuckled at the paragraph where Lee’s mom was transfixed by the ATM, “She thought an extremely small teller was crouched inside a tiny room in the wall, counting out notes at high speed. ‘The poor thing, stuck in there without a window.’” (p. 279)

            P.S. I read this because the ophthalmologist in the department I previously worked in thought I should, “because you are Korean.” (His words are not something to take offense to when one is used to his blunt way of talking. It’s actually a compliment that he’d lend me one of his books.)

Naturally Tan (June 4, 2019) by Tan France.

Fashion and compassion make the man that is Tan France. In his memoir, Tan starts at his childhood, as people do, and works his way to present-day. He describes what it was like to grow up South Asian in a predominately white area in England. He talks about what it was like meeting his husband for the first time (Rob, not having met many people of color, thought Tan was Mexican) and his hair (it’s pretty iconic) and some major cultural differences between the U.S. and the U.K. (like supermarkets and their cereal aisles). There is a brief chapter where he shares that he had over 30 jobs between the ages of 16 and 27 (27 being the age he became an entrepreneur and started his own business).

            But perhaps my favorite chapter is when he talks about “The Art of Not Being a Bitch at Work.” For anyone who’s worked in jobs or is working in a job with a lot of women, we know that it can be a supportive, team-creative environment where women champion women, but we’ve all seen how women can knock other women down and be the biggest gossipmongers. I have been the woman knocked down, and it’s complicated to maintain positivity in a workplace when enduring that. You don’t understand why women aren’t building each other up. After all, doesn’t the success of all in an office or department or corporation reflect on everyone? Yes. Or, that’s how that should be perceived. When Tan states, “If you’re working at one of my offices and you dare to bitch about a colleague so you can one-up them, know wholeheartedly that the person you’re bitching about will be praised, and you, the bitching person, will be fired.” As soon as I read that, I was super bummed that Tan France was never my boss. Because, imagine, a boss who sticks up for you and doesn’t get swayed by toxic gossip?! Amazing!

            Tan also addresses serious points, like when he addresses 9/11. There are many who don’t like hearing about the “race card” being used, but, as Tan points out, sometimes it needs to be played. He wants more people to be aware that racial profiling and interrogation happen, even as he worries that a spotlight on the issue could also make it worse. As I’m typing this, we’re closer to two years out from the first confirmed COVID cases; we’ve been in this pandemic awhile. We’ve all heard cases about the uptick in hate against people identifying as AAPI, and it’s not exclusively a U.S. problem. No one should ever be infringed upon or made to feel less for any reason, certainly not on the basis of skin color or one’s facial features.

            I absolutely LOVE this book. Tan France is candid and funny, charming and frank, heartwarming and feisty. He doesn’t shy away from his colorful story and the struggles he endured on his way up. He’s also refreshingly transparent about “what it’s like to go from being a regular person with a regular income … to becoming wealthy.” Yep, he goes there. He will always have opinions about everyone’s outfits (it’s his thing, after all), which means I would both fear meeting him on the street, but also love it. I shall never be as fabulous as he is (it’s an impossibility, even if I had scads of money), but, like him, I can also work to “spread joy, personal acceptance, and most of all, understanding.” We all can.

Not Fade Away: A Memoir of Senses Lost and Found (Sept. 11, 2014) by Rebecca Alexander.

   With Sascha Alper.

“Breathe in peace, breathe out fear.” Rebecca Alexander was born with a rare genetic mutation, trickled down through her Ashkenazi Jew heritage. It’s called Usher Syndrome Type III, and she’s been going blind and deaf since she was a child. First diagnosed with retinitis pigmentosa (or “donut vision”) at age 12, she was told she’d be blind and deaf by age 30. A driven individual, she was determined to be successful in everything she set out to do. Rebecca loves to live life big and is almost never still. Understandably, the impending hearing and vision loss did not set in right away. She also seemed to live by the idea that being young made her invincible. At 18, in the throes of a hangover and trying to navigate her room in the dark with her degraded vision, she fell 27 feet out of her French windows, breaking almost everything but her head and neck. She came back stronger than ever, starting college only one semester later than expected and took pride in her strength and fitness. She went on to earn double masters’ degrees from Columbia University and is a psychotherapist heading up her own clinical practice in Manhattan.

            Talk about profoundly inspiring! Whereas another might want to fade away rather than face the physical and psychological challenges associated with not one, but two, deteriorating senses, Rebecca Alexander is the opposite. Yes, she’s had to take those honest moments to let herself grieve over what she’s losing, but mostly she takes great strides forward, and she’d rather joke about what she’s going through than receive anyone’s pity. This memoir is remarkable and enlightening. With Sascha Alper, Alexander has written an articulate and candid novel. Hers is a grace that we should all wish we had. She lives intentionally and resiliently with a laser focus on storing memories and exuding love and compassion for others. She is a motivator, and she seems to have a great sense of humor. Alexander’s radiance is a light in her darkening world. It’s radiance we can all bask in, if only we take the time to notice it.

            Favorite quote: “My nose is like the love child of a pregnant woman and a truffle pig …” --Rebecca, in describing her sense of smell making up for her weakening senses (p. 136)

            Laughed out loud: “Caroline and I were having lunch with a friend one day, and he asked if either one of us had ever gotten toe fungus from showering at the gym, to which I responded, ‘Yeah! I had it on my bagel this morning.’ I had heard ‘tofu cream cheese.’” (p. 205)

            In the news: As of March 22 of 2019, there was talk that Emily Blunt was in talks to star as Rebecca in a movie adaptation of the novel. I didn’t find any new information, probably unsurprising during this ongoing pandemic.

            Thank you note: Thanks to my friend and former colleague, Faye, for lending me this book and opening my eyes (*pun intended*) to Usher Syndrome Type III. I’d not heard of it previously.