Be Careful What You Wish For

When getting what you want is more than you bargained for

Hello, friends. It’s been a minute, hasn’t it? I feel like I blinked and 2024 was upon me with little writing to show for it. I apologize for that, as a lot of great books went unaccounted for here. I’m not making any promises about consistency moving forward, but I confess I’ve been itching to write as of late and I hope to make a healthier rhythm of it in the new year.

One contributor to that itch was the fact that I was fortunate enough to meet two of my favorite authors—Jesmyn Ward and Zadie Smith—on tour last fall. There’s something about enjoying new work from creators I admire that always leaves me thinking, I want to try that. Their new novels, Let Us Descend and The Fraud, while both historical fiction, are as distinct as the personalities of their authors and genius in their own right.

The Fraud is a sweeping story about stories, or as the jacket reads, “who gets to tell their story—and who gets to be believed.” Set in Victorian England during the Tichborne Trial, Smith localizes the plot through a Scottish housekeeper named Eliza Touchet who becomes enraptured by the trial and the idea that nothing is ever as simple as what meets the eye. The book is at once touching, funny, and searing, all trademarks of Smith herself.

When I met her during the book signing, her first comment to me was that the spelling of my name was strange for including two Ls (Londoners, amirite), and when I proceeded to share how I’ve always loved her description of Aaron Sorkin as a “talkie,” she chuckled and responded,

I feel a bit bad for Sorkin. Sometimes we need talkies. Don’t you miss them? I mean, every Marvel movie these days only has about eight words in it.

Burned twice in a matter of minutes by Zadie Smith.¹

Meeting Jesmyn Ward was a much smoother experience. Like her prose, Ward is soft spoken, almost unassuming until you realize what she is saying. Her words are like a scalpel so sharp you don’t feel the incision until it is complete. Let Us Descend is a hellish journey of a young slave girl sold south, forcing her to walk from a rice plantation in the Carolinas to the stalls of New Orleans. It’s gritty and vivid, as ascendant as it is harrowing.

Ward’s writing has always felt like a lifeline to me. I admire her so much for her ability to face the worst of life with a hopeful gaze. She writes with her head held high, no matter the topic, and when you read her work you can’t help but take some of that posture with you. By the time I reached the front of the signing line, I couldn’t think of anything better to say to her than, “Thank you.” I need that kind of writing to cling to—and I know I’m not the only one.

2023 was a grueling year. I have no misgivings about leaving it behind. In a stroke of poetic irony, I wrote last January that I wanted to read a collection of Tolkien-related works to explore his presentation of hope and gain a fuller view of what hope entails. That project fell by the wayside not long after for a more practical education in hope that remains ongoing.

Nonetheless, I’m learning how important it is for me to make space to create in addition to feasting on the creativity of others. Writing is a buoy that helps me keep my head above the surface, so, among other projects, I’m going to try and get a newsletter out at least once a quarter this year—for my benefit, if nothing else.

As we head into 2024, let me leave you with an encouragement: be careful what you wish for. This year has reminded me how small my imagination can be when it comes to what I need to be a whole, healthy human. Asking for wholeness is no small thing, and our requests do not fall idly by. So be careful, not because getting what you wish for is cause for despair, but because it may arrive in a form you least expect. Like a naive study of hope becoming more concrete than you imagined. Or getting burned by Zadie Smith.

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Titles I’m Excited About in 2024

I’m planning to publish a rundown of my favorite reads from 2023 in the next week or so, but until then here are a few I’m looking forward to in the first half of 2024:

I Cheerfully Refuse by Leif Enger—This book doesn’t drop until April, which gives you three months to consume his previous novels. Enger is a tremendous storyteller, and this tale about a grieving musician in search of his wife promises to be a memorable one.

The Hunter by Tana French—I devoured French’s “Dublin Murder Squad” series a few years ago and jump at any chance to read new work from her. Her books are always a slow burn that end with a bang, and I expect nothing less from The Hunter.

The Anxious Generation by Jonathan Haidt—Last fall, Haidt teed up this book in an interview he gave at the Alliance for Responsible Citizenship’s annual conference. As a parent of two kids growing up in the age of smartphones, this is going to be an essential read for me.

The Spirit of Our Politics by Michael Wear—As we head into what is sure to be another ridiculous and divisive election year, I’m trying to focus on voices that communicate genuine hope for politics. I can’t think of anyone who does that better than Michael Wear.

The God of the Woods by Liz Moore—It’s 1975 and a young girl goes missing from a summer camp, but she’s not just any girl—she’s the daughter of the family who owns the camp, a family who’s son went missing fourteen years earlier.

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Until next time, happy reading, friends.

1. I like Marvel movies a lot.