Our Summer 2025 Reading List

Adrian

I Who Have Never Known Men by Jacqueline Harpman

The common knowledge is that a summer read should be light fare suited to a seaside sunset. A counterpoint: What if instead it’s the bleakest story you’ve ever read? I Who Have Never Known Men is the perfect novel for those among us who found Cormac McCarthy’s The Road too damn cheery. The narrator is caged in an underground bunker with 39 other women, none of whom know where they are or how they got there. They are denied joy, music, learning, all human touch and affection by the cracking whips of the sinister guards that patrol the perimeter of their prison. And it only gets darker from there. As my wife (also Jacqueline and the one who recommended this book to me) would say, it’s one of those stories where nothing happens and everything happens. What is the value of knowledge, memory, love, or curiosity when the boulder rolls back down the hill every time? How do we maintain hope and humanity when staring so deeply into the abyss of mortality? How can we make meaning of an absurd existence? Through lovely, stark prose, Harpman deftly fights back against the impending nihilism. Somehow, on the other side of the sadness, loneliness, and loss, our narrator finds a form of peace—and so do we.

Connor

Titus Groan by Mervyn Peake

I’m not especially surprised that Mervyn Peake’s Gormenghast trilogy continues to fly under the radar, despite having remained in print consistently since the publication of the first book, Titus Groan, in 1947. It is a layered, baroque, twisting, and sometimes confusing book—much like the looming Gormenghast Castle where the series is set. The novels include a large cast of characters with whimsical yet almost believable names, curious habits, and surrealistically exaggerated anatomies. Although there is a plot (and a clear villain, if not an obvious hero), Peake often focuses on thematic vignettes that combine to paint a picture of life in this bizarre, isolated castle. The series is usually labeled as fantasy, although I suspect that has more to do with the castle setting and lack of references to anything that would mark this as our world, since there’s no magic or fairy tale creatures or anything like that. Basically, there are a lot of reasons why someone might bounce off this book, and yet over the decades, a loyal cadre of fans—among whom I now count myself—have found themselves engrossed by Peake’s off-beat humor and evocative, precise language. His sentences are constructed like little treasure boxes that unfold to reveal a neat collection of jewel-like ideas. The experience of reading these books is an act of discovery. He doesn’t spoon-feed anything to you, and sometimes you just have to sit back and trust that this is going somewhere. It’s rewarding in the same way as finishing a crossword puzzle—or at least I think so. Maybe you will, too.

Ian

Barbarian Days by William Finnegan

When I was 20 years old, I drove across the country with my college roommate. We camped out, bathed in reservoirs, and enjoyed a terrifying brush with the law somewhere in the Texas panhandle. Reading the surfing memoir Barbarian Days ten years after that trip brought back a rush of memories—from the fatigue of trying to sleep in a 95 degree tent to the thrill of ending a day 500 miles from where I woke up. But William Finnegan’s lifelong search for the perfect wave is more than a nostalgic travelogue. It’s a thoughtful meditation on the evolution of male friendship, from youth through adulthood—the ways we change, the ways we stay the same, and yes, how we get on each other’s nerves. As Finnegan bounces from Hawaii to Fiji to Australia to New York, his surfing buddies represent touchstones at different points in his life, and I saw reflections of my own eclectic friendships in his traveling companions. Unsurprisingly, my college roommate recommended the book to me.

Nancy

This Strange Eventful History by Claire Messud

There’s nothing I want more during the summer than to lie on a beach and dive into an engaging family saga. So I was thrilled when I started my summer vacation on a beach with Claire Messud’s sprawling, gorgeously written new novel. Inspired by Messud’s own family history, the story recounts seven decades in the lives of a French family who struggle with identity; after generations in Algiers, they claim Algeria as their homeland, but are forced to reckon with questions of belonging after Algerian independence. Family members and their descendants traverse the globe looking for—and rarely finding—where they can truly feel at home. History plays out in the background (and sometimes the foreground) of the characters’ lives, but each individual narrator’s musings on life, home and culture play as important a role as the spectacular historical events they endure. Full disclosure: my vacation was far too short and much too busy, and I’m only partway through the book. But I can’t wait to get back to a beach towel to find out what happens next.

Neal

Everyone Who Is Gone Is Here by Jonathan Blitzer

During the last several years, the rhetoric around immigration in the U.S. has become louder and more inflammatory than ever. As someone who follows the news closely, I’ve been frustrated by the media’s general reluctance to address a fundamental question in depth: Why do people come to the border? Jonathan Blitzer’s study—one of the New York Times 10 Best Books of 2024—provides a detailed (and sobering) examination of the root causes that have contributed to today’s state of affairs. One of the most powerful aspects of his analysis comes from a refutation of migrants as “the other” through a focus on individuals whose lives have been threatened, uprooted, and traumatized as the result of inhumane, ineffectual policies on both sides of the border. His approach provides a powerful illustration of how the instability of many Central American governments is directly linked to U.S. efforts focused on propping up (or dismantling) those regimes. He also demonstrates how the failure of the U.S. government to effect meaningful solutions around immigration-related issues has fueled a vicious cycle where unbearable conditions produce greater numbers of refugees—and the ever-more draconian measures of deterrence currently in use.

Tiffany

How to Land a Plane by Mark Vanhoenacker

Ever since the implementation of a new, albeit temporary, flight path above my house into the Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport due to runway construction, I’ve been on the lookout for books to teach me more on the topic of air travel. How to Land a Plane is precisely what it sounds like: a guidebook on how to do just that, from a veteran pilot with decades of experience. Now, will I ever actually land a plane? Absolutely not. And, in fact, his book advises the reader that completion of the book does not even remotely qualify you to do so. But it’s still an interesting study in the myriad things a pilot must stay attentive to not just throughout flight, but especially for landing. I learned what the little lights—PAPI lights—next to the runways indicate; I learned the different axes on which an airplane can rotate and their corresponding aviation terms; and of course, learned all about the physics of flight and how airplanes come to be in the air – and back on land. While certainly a niche book in many respects, it also feels accessible in a way that I’d recommend it to anyone who has flown or wants to fly. Written for non-pilots, it’s a quick read full of helpful illustrations and makes for excellent in-flight entertainment.