Carrie Soto Is Back

Okay, wow. Carrie Soto Is Back hit me right in the 40-year-old feelings. I did not expect to relate so hard to a fictional tennis legend, but here we are.

Tennis legend Carrie comes out of retirement for “one final season” to reclaim her record and remind the world who she is. And honestly? That idea—getting one more shot, refusing to let the best part of life feel behind you… I feel that. There’s something so relatable about not wanting to fade into the background while the younger, shinier people take over. Add in the sting of watching them make it look easy? Ouch.

Taylor Jenkins Reid sneaks in these phrases that stick in my brain forever. Like “fresh knees.” I cackle. I never even thought about my joints until last year...

Relationships shine in this book - both the dad and the love story. Believable moments, all around.

So the big question - do I understand tennis now? Barely. But I didn’t care. This book is so good, so I’ll read 300 more pages about love and serves and volleys.

This book is about what it feels like to fight for one last shot at greatness—and it’s a story that makes you cheer, cry, and laugh at aging joints.

the Extraordinary Deaths of Mrs. Kip

I just finished The Extraordinary Deaths of Mrs. Kip, and honestly, it was sweet. Nothing super flashy or groundbreaking, but still a story that’s like a warm little hug.

The setup is that a young journalist gets stuck with what she thinks is a punishment assignment—writing an obituary for an elderly woman. BUT THEN there’s life lessons from a spunky, dying woman.

The story kind of unpacks the way Mrs. Kip “died” to herself. It’s a beautiful thought, and there are definitely some moments that made me smile.

I will confess I started skimming toward the end. It felt a little long and a bit contrived. Still, it’s standard Christian fiction in the best way—lessons learned, hearts softened, everyone walks away better for it.

If you like stories about unexpected friendships, life lessons, and a little faith sprinkled in, this one’s worth picking up. Just maybe don’t expect a twist ending.

Hillbilly Elegy

Reading Hillbilly Elegy by J.D. Vance was an unexpectedly engaging experience—I found myself constantly putting my paperback down to Google things, whether it was about Appalachian culture, local politics, or historical references. That may sound like a distraction, but it really pulled me deeper into the world he was writing about.

The story itself is truly glue for the eyes. He sure has a way of drawing you into his family and upbringing, and I honestly still feel delighted whenever I see him mention his mom in public—it’s like I’ve come to know her myself, and I’m weirdly proud of her sobriety. One detail I especially love was his decision to take his grandparents’ name instead of that from an ex-stepfather he barely knew. Even better, he and his wife changed their names together when they got married—it felt meaningful and symbolic in a way that resonated. Identity is so critical to who we are.

Vance’s reflections on his time in the Marines, his college experience, and his relationship with his wife really stood out.

Stylistically, he manages to make discussions of economics and politics compelling—impressive for me who is not a reader of memoir (ever). He wraps his thoughts in storytelling so effectively that you’re drawn in, much like Ayn Rand did with her novels (although a different tone and context).

All in all, whether or not you agree with his perspectives, Hillbilly Elegy was a gripping read. The narrative, the family dynamics, and the personal reflections make it hard to put down. I’ve decided to skip the movie for now—maybe I’ll come around—but the book itself was an experience worth having.

Stay with Me

I’ll be honest… I can’t really say I liked Ayobami Adebayo’s Stay With Me. The book is full of heavy sexual themes that make it a tough recommendation for me personally. It’s literary but just… bleh, sad.

The big takeaway: honesty in marriage is crucial. The story makes that crystal clear. But the way it plays out is a let-down. There’s no one to cheer for, as all the characters are masters of their own demise. The ending, in particular, feels what I’d call a “hollow ending.” Think of a movie where a kidnapped child is finally rescued after a terrifying ordeal, hugging their parents in the morning sun. A happy ending, technically. But anyone paying attention knows the kid will be traumatized forever, always be in therapy, never sleep through the night. That’s this book’s ending. The mom and daughter are back together, the husband and wife reunite—but there’s no real happy future for them. The emotional damage is too big to fully repair.

Reading it was a literary experience I could appreciate. It’s just that emotionally, the story is more “ugh, that’s awful” than “aw, I’m crying beautiful cleansing tears.”

This Is What Happened

Mick Herron’s This Is What Happened starts strong, pulling you into a tense, secretive world that promises espionage and psychological intrigue. I liked the opening—the setup suggested something layered and clever. Unfortunately, the story didn’t quite deliver.

I figured out the mystery far too quickly, and I really don’t read a lot of mysteries. In fact, I assumed something more elaborate was coming because I couldn’t believe it was that simple. But no—my early assumption turned out to be right, which made the rest of the book feel like a slow march toward an ending I already knew.

The ending itself felt forced, with the sudden reappearance of a long-lost sister that added a life-save at the end. Meanwhile, the protagonist’s journey was hard to watch—not because of the writing, but because she came across as painfully, horrifyingly gullible. It became way too obvious she was being manipulated and abused, yet the drawn-out timeline made her seem almost unrealistically naive. Condensing the events might have made her character arc feel more believable.

Another important note: there is sexual assault in the book. It’s not graphic, but it’s still worth a trigger warning.

armada

Ernest Cline’s Armada is a fun, fast-paced read that definitely has some of the heart of Ready Player One, but it’s missing the mystery and cleverness that made that book so special. The story is basically every nerd’s dream: a regular gamer gets the chance to save the world. It’s a page-turner but an unsatisfying one.

Everything happens way too fast. The romance? Instant love at first sight, barely believable even for a teenagr. The whole story should’ve stretched over at least a year or so to give the characters and plot more room to breathe. Even the action felt rushed at times, which is weird because you’d think real combat against aliens could be planned out a bit better? Like, why would they not have fixed that a player respawns miles/minutes away from the battle? That felt pretty silly.

The ending? Kind of disappointing. Still, Cline’s love for pop culture and gaming is all over the book, and it’s fun to see him lean into that again. I smiled a lot (I think more than I rolled my eyes).