What I Read in a Year (and Five Days)

Plus 30% off the Trail Towns 101 course today only

Hello, friends!

I’m excited to share my 2024 reads with you. If we’re being exact, I finished two of these books at the tippity top of THIS year, but I can’t last another spin around the sun before sharing them with you. All told, I have 23 books to tell you about, as well as a few that I reserve the right to leave off the list. Oh, the intrigue!

StoryGraph, where I track my books, described my year in reading as such: “You engaged in introspective musings, traversed landscapes of the heart, and dipped into wells of melancholy.”

My explanations will be much more straight forward.

But first, a few things worth noting:

• My 5-star reads were Homing, On the Trail, and Fall On Your Knees.

• My average rating was 4.18.

• My strongest recommendations for a general audience are marked with an asterisk (*).

• This was the year of the audio book for me! I tend to choose an audio book when it doesn’t require a lot of my attention or if I’ve read the book in the past and want to experience it in a new way. I consumed eight audio books in 2024, including three that I’ve previously read in print.

• I read a lot of fiction this year…more than typical for me!

Last thing before the list…did you see the bit in the heading about the opportunity to save 30% on the upcoming Trail Towns 101 course? Scroll to the very end for info on that. The sale ends today, 1/7/25.

Books about Trails, Nature, and Place:

*On the Trail: A History of American Hiking, by Silas Chamberlin

I know and collaborate with Silas, and have so much professional respect for him. Reading On the Trail (one of my only 5-star ratings for the year) has definitely reinforced this opinion. I learned so much about the history of hiking and walking, the development and role of trail clubs, and shifting attitudes about how we use and care for trails. As with many things, hiking used to be a more communal activity than it has been in recent decades. While reading, I felt inspired to get back to spending more time walking with others. If you want to get outside with me this year, let me know!

The Salt Path, by Raynor Winn

It was the cover art that drew me in with this one. (Check out Angela Harding on Instagram.) As for the story, Raynor Winn writes about how she and her husband hiked England’s South West Coast Path after losing their home and learning of a serious illness for him. What I recall the most nearly a year after reading is the stigma they encountered when they divulged that they didn’t have a home to go back to at the end of their journey. If thru-hiking and not technically homeless, they are thought to be adventurous. If they’re without a home and walking the same path, then they are social pariahs.

Fun fact about The Salt Path: I got to know a few of the folks that oversee the 630-mile trail while attending the World Trails Conference in October. It was another one of those instances that I marveled at being part of a global trail community that is smaller than you might think!

The Unlikely Thru-Hiker, by Derick Lugo

Did I mention that Raynor Winn and her husband were quite unprepared for their trek? So was Derick Lugo, author of The Unlikely Thru-Hiker. I suppose lack of preparation makes for good travel writing, in the A Walk in the Woods sort of way. Unlikely was an Appalachian Leadership Institute reading assignment. I generally enjoyed it and appreciated his perspective, perseverance, and optimism.

*Homing: Instincts of a Rustbelt Feminist, by Sherrie Flick

Back story: Sherrie Flick and I grew up a town apart and now live in the same Pittsburgh neighborhood. As she was writing Homing, she reached out to let me know that she was including a chapter on a paddle trip I organized, Rebel Rebel. I’m honored to be included in the book (one of my 2024 5-star reads!), but what I’m most jazzed about is that Sherrie’s explored and written about this place we both call home. Also worth sharing is that Sherrie and I had a bit of a road show going in the fall. I interviewed her at two different events that explored place and placemaking (thank you, Rivers of Steel and Baby Bello!). As for the book, here’s how I described it in my StoryGraph review:

“Sherrie and I grew up a town and a decade apart in Beaver County, Pennsylvania. Sherrie witnessed the collapse of industry in the eighties, while I was too young to realize what was happening around me. (Though I now realize that both the events and the culture had a profound impact on my life and outlook.) In reading Homing, there were so many moments that I was taken aback that someone could put into words something I either didn't know how to express or didn't even realize I'd felt. I enjoyed this reflective collection as much as I thought I would and more.”

Appalachia North, by Matthew Ferrence

Matthew Ferrence writes about the geographic ambiguity of living in northern Appalachia. I can identify with this…or at least I could when I read Appalachia North early last year. I’ve since settled into my place in the northern reaches of the region. Chapters like “Floods,” “Marginal Appalachia,” “Learning to Say Appalachia” (it’s not what you think), have the potential to add a lot to our understanding of the region. This book is part memoir, part Appalachian studies. I underlined A LOT of pages. To be totally honest, I thought the writing was too crass in places, but I appreciated the book overall. I also quite enjoyed the “Canappalachia” chapter, which focuses on the geology of the Appalachians extending into Canada’s eastern provinces. As you by now know, I continue to feel the tug of Atlantic Canada. It’s not just geology or geography. There’s more of a cultural connection than we might realize. I appreciated Ferrence bringing that forward.

Palaces for the People, by Eric Klinenberg

This was another Appalachian Leadership Institute reading assignment, one I’m glad to have encountered. Klinenberg argues that social infrastructure like libraries, senior centers, community gardens, and barber shops help fight inequality, polarization, and the decline of civic life. If you’re someone who’s working to make a difference in your neighborhood or community, this is a great and easy read about how community spaces are part of the recipe for a healthy and connected community.

Pittsburgh Memoranda, by Haniel Long

First published as a limited edition in 1935, Pittsburgh Memoranda is part history, part Steel City love story, and a critique of early twentieth century capitalism conveyed through a 75-page long prose poem. This book isn't for everyone, but if you're interested in exploring 1890s -1930s Pittsburgh through a dissenting voice who was questioning excess wealth, individualism, and what it means to be part of a whole ("the State"), you might want to check this one out. It felt like a chance to feel my way through a history that I already knew (at least to an extent).

It was so fascinating to read this book by a writer whose first memory was the Homestead Strike, who was later deeply impacted by the Great War, and who wrote (from the desert in New Mexico) in the midst of the Great Depression. And despite the greed, the despair, and smoke spilling out of stacks across each of the river valleys, he seemed to love Pittsburgh. And he hoped for a better, more equitable place ("And the future city lies in the future of its least citizen."). There were many times in reading this that I wondered how much progress we've made over the last 90 years.

I'll close with a few lines from the final page:

"Pittsburghers, what is Pittsburgh? It is the total
of the relationships of us who live
in Pittsburgh: is nothing else, now and forever.

Up to Heaven and Down to Hell, by Colin Jerolmack

This is a book about fracking in Lycoming County, Pennsylvania. Jerolmack embedded himself in the community and took a deep dive on the industry, got to know leasing landowners, activists, landmen, and others. It’s a little dry in places, but I think it’s an important exploration of the public/private paradox. How far do individual rights go when they impact the whole? I didn’t intentionally place this book after Pittsburgh Memoranda, but how interesting that both books examine the collective and industrialization.

Little Chapel on the River, by Gwendolyn Bounds

This was an easy read about the author’s experience living in the Hudson River Valley following 9/11. Subtitled, “A Pub, a Town, and the Search for What Matters Most,” the book covers her newly-formed relationships with the townspeople and patrons of the pub and adjoining grocery store. I found myself wondering what we might learn (or remember) from how people came together following 9/11. Not to suggest that everything was all good at that time, but I still found myself questioning along these lines.

*Another Appalachia, by Neema Avashia (re-read/listen)

This has been one of my favorite books in recent years, so I decided to revisit it. This time, I listened to the audio book to experience it a bit differently. Here’s my 2022 review of Another Appalachia:

“This has been one of my most recommended books since I devoured it a couple of years ago. Avashia grew up near Charleston, West Virginia and now lives in Boston. She writes about her home state with compassion and tenderness, even as she grapples with the cultural divide. I’ve often thought about how urbanites don’t always get rural America. This book might start to shed some light for those who are looking to understand. At the same time, Avashia addresses some of the tough questions and complexities of ‘coming up queer and Indian in a mountain place.’”

Everything Else:

*The Reading List, by Sara Nisha Adams

This sweet, engaging book was my first read of 2024. It was a nice way to ease into the year and enjoy the bond formed between two unlikely characters. Libraries played a central role, of course. We all know that loneliness is a problem of our time. Let The Reading List take you on a bit of a journey and see that there’s connection to be had all around us.

*The Heaven and Earth Grocery Store, by James McBride

Set in Pottstown, Pennsylvania, in the early 1900s, The Heaven and Earth Grocery Store follows the lives of immigrant Jews and African Americans living side by side in the Chicken Hill neighborhood. From the book description: “Chicken Hill was where Moshe and Chona Ludlow lived when Moshe integrated his theater and where Chona ran the Heaven & Earth Grocery Store. When the state came looking for a deaf boy to institutionalize him, it was Chona and Nate Timblin, the Black janitor at Moshe’s theater and the unofficial leader of the Black community on Chicken Hill, who worked together to keep the boy safe.” I listened to the audio and thought the narrator did a fantastic job of bringing the book’s many characters to life. I highly recommend this book and am sure I would have enjoyed the paperback just as much. As an aside, McBride’s 2007 National Geographic essay, “Hip-Hop Planet,” is a worthy read.

*Our Missing Hearts, by Celeste Ng

I really loved this book and felt invested in the main character, Bird, from the first page. I read it not long after finishing The Reading List not knowing that libraries would play a central role in both stories. Dystopian fiction isn’t something I seek out, but that’s what this is. Ng borrows from some events from the past 100 years (including some that are quite recent), so this is likely to ring true as you read it.

From the book description: “Our Missing Hearts is an old story made new, of the ways supposedly civilized communities can ignore the most searing injustice. It’s a story about the power—and limitations—of art to create change, the lessons and legacies we pass on to our children, and how any of us can survive a broken world with our hearts intact.”

*Fall on Your Knees, by Ann-Marie MacDonald

Okay, this one floored me. I read Fall on Your Knees because I just can’t let go of Nova Scotia. When I heard about this 1996 family saga, I made note. Months later, I pulled up my list of books while perusing a library used book sale (just to remind myself of what I might keep an eye out for). Wouldn’t you know, five minutes later, the spine of the book is leaping out at me.

Listen, this book is pretty divisive, with plenty of 1- and 5-star ratings online. It’s the tragic tale of a Cape Breton family dealing with some really dark stuff in the early twentieth century. I read one review that offered a whopping TWELVE content warnings. So, you’ve been warned. But, wow, MacDonald wrote this story so beautifully. It’s a 500-page book with the magic of these snappy little sentences that say SO MUCH in so few words. There’s an art to those kinds of sentences that will never be matched by the 50- and 60-word doozies I so often see. I also really enjoyed Fall on Your Knees as a work of historical fiction, found lots of humor in even a difficult story, and will be remembering the Piper sisters for quite a long time.

The Berry Pickers, by Amanda Peters

Another Nova Scotia connection: this story is set in NS along the Bay of Fundy, as well as in Maine. It’s the story of a Mi’kmaq family that became separated (due to a kidnapping) in the 1960s. I appreciated the technique of alternating narrators and was easily drawn into their world. Nice book!

They Both Die at the End, by Adam Silvera

I picked this up on a whim in an airport and got through it rather quickly (score one for YA lit). It was my second dystopian book of the year (again, not really a thing for me!). The premise of the story was kind of fun, though. Essentially, if it’s your last day on Earth and you want to know, there’s an app for that! You get an alert telling you so. Maybe there’s been a lot of literature that explores how you’d spend your final days. This one felt current, highlighted the stark contrast between the tech and the humans receiving the news, and had me rooting for the characters and hoping for a loophole.

Where the Crawdads Sing, by Delia Owens

StoryGraph informed me that this is the “most shelved” of my 2024 reads, meaning a whole heckuva lot of people have read this book (as we all probably know). I liked it, didn’t love it. Set in a North Carolina coastal community, I enjoyed the way Owens wrote about the marsh and nature more generally. This translates well to the film and its excellent cinematography.

Wuthering Heights, by Emily Brontë (re-read/listen)

I loved this book in high school and read it at least twice back then. I decided to go back and listen. I think what I appreciated about Wuthering Heights in the nineties was the broodiness of it, the descriptions of the harsh landscape, etc. Maybe I was into the love story as well, I’m not sure (after all, I came of age in the era of Reality Bites, which doesn’t exactly model healthy relationships, either). Nevertheless, the audio version of Wuthering Heights got me through a couple of long treks across Pennsylvania, and I was able to appreciate the book for other reasons this go-round, seeing that it wasn’t a celebration of the Catherine-Heathcliff saga, but probably more of a critique of the toxicity they perpetuated.

Heads Will Roll, by Josh Winning

I listened to this summer camp slasher in October with the lucky timing of finishing on Halloween. It was a fun and engaging modern thriller set at “Camp Cancelled.” Heads definitely rolled.

Saving Time: Discovering Life Beyond the Clock, by Jenny O’Dell

I can’t really recommend this one to you. While I appreciate the topic and the examination of “clock time,” geologic time, and how capitalism has influenced how we value time, this 400-page book takes a lot of detours. I found my mind straying quite a few times. I’ve read that a lot of people prefer her previous book, How to Do Nothing: Resisting the Attention Economy. That may be a better place to start with an adjacent topic.

Threads of Awakening, by Leslie Rinchen-Wongmo

I really enjoyed this memoir/travelogue. In short, Rinchen-Wongmo travels to India, falls in love with the place, and then falls even more in love with the art of making thangkas (a form of needlework that Tibetans use to depict sacred images). From the book description: “What if you set out to travel the world and got sidetracked in a Himalayan sewing workshop? What if that sidetrack turned out to be your life’s path—your way home?”

We Were Once a Family, by Roxanna Asgarian

This is a terribly sad book about a story you probably saw in the news a while back and some of the problems within the American foster care system.

An American Childhood, by Annie Dillard (re-read/listen)

I’ve read and loved this before. Like a couple of other books this year, I decided to experience the audio version. I wasn’t as charmed as when I read it, but still took delight in multiple passages of Annie Dillard’s account of her Pittsburgh youth.

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