The Good Stuff

holiday edition

Hi, Friend.

I hope you’re finding comfort—and yes, even joy—right now. I just got back to chilly Ohio after a couple of days at the Miami Book Fair. Sunshine, palm trees, tostones, mojitos, energizing conversations with writers, and so many books, books, books. Plenty of joys, even in harrowing times.

In Miami I had a panel discussion with Hannah Pittard and a powerful conversation with Dani Shapiro for her podcast Family Secrets. If you’re in the mood to listen to a podcast this week, I especially loved this incredibly moving episode of Family Secrets, and I had a terrific conversation about ambiguity and “grounded hope” with organizational psychologist and NYT bestselling author Adam Grant recently for ReThinking. (I even forgive Adam for being a Michigan wolverine.)

Grounded hope. Yes, please!

In time for the holidays, signed and personalized editions of You Could Make This Place Beautiful, Goldenrod, Keep Moving, and Good Bones are available from my beloved neighborhood indie bookstore, Gramercy Books, to ship anywhere in the U.S. I’m happy to inscribe them for anyone on your list. Please order online by DECEMBER 13 for holiday delivery. Thank you as always for buying your books at indie bookstores instead of from (*cough*) the other guy.

What else am I giving (or hoping to find under the tree) this year? Here are some books on my wishlist (or, ok fine, books I’ve recently bought for myself, playing Santa, and can’t wait to read): Temple Folk by Aaliyah Bilal, Lillian’s Invincible Summer by Cristina Rivera Garza, End of the Hour: A Therapist’s Memoir by Meghan Riordan Jarvis, My Work by Olga Ravn and translated from the Danish by Sophia Hirsi Smith and Jennifer Russell, Owner of a Lonely Heart by Beth Nguyen, and Brutalities: A Love Story by Margo Steines.

End-of-year lists are 1. fraught, and 2. despite being fraught, great places to find gifts for the booklovers in your life. I’m really pleased to be on this list of NPR’s favorite books of the year.

What you reading and loving right now, or hoping to dig into soon?

This time of year I’m all about cozying up with a good book, and I’m all about creature comforts: the perfect flannel sheets, my favorite scented candle for fall and winter, cozy slippers, soaps and bath bombs from Glean, handmade by my dear friend Dawn McCombs (I always have a few bars of “Every James Dean Movie” soap on hand). You can probably tell from this list that I tend to nest when the weather gets cold.

This time of year my kids and I listen to a lot of classic holiday music in our house—Johnny Mathis, Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers, Vince Guaraldi—so I’m sharing our always-growing-and-changing family holiday playlist. Some of the songs are ridiculously groan-worthy, but tradition is tradition.

I’ve also been listening to the latest Mitski record, The Land Is Inhospitable and So Are We, on beautiful blue vinyl. The first track alone is…whew. But to me it’s a no-skip album. It’s also nice, I admit, to have some music in common with my daughter.

Violet and I are watching a show together these days, Our Flag Means Death, which my friend Lisa raved about; I can absolutely understand why, because it’s hilarious. On the flight home from Miami I watched an episode and a half of 100 Foot Wave, which I surprisingly loved, despite being a completely in-my-head-not-my-body human being who is afraid of both heights and deep water. My mouth hung open when I watched these surfers take on giant walls of water. (Just ask the poor woman sitting next to me on the plane.)

Here at home, we’re already making our way through the best (and worst) holiday specials until the first of the year. The old Rankin & Bass ones are my favorites. Rudolph! Yukon Cornelius! Frosty and his wife with the mop for hair!

And who doesn’t love the elf who wants to be a dentist?

I know it’s a strange time right now. I’m holding tight to my loved ones, and I’m holding tight to joy in whatever form it takes—large or small, fleeting or lasting, surprising or expected.

With grounded hope and gratitude—
Maggie