Things I Really Liked in 2025

“A glooming peace this morning with it brings; the sun, for sorrow, will not show his head”: those words are in my mind today, but they would’ve been appropriate for much of the last 12 months. I’ve struggled to write this post because every day of the new year has erupted with a story that makes me want to throw up my hands and say, “See, we don’t deserve good things right now.” But art has gotten me through this year, and I need to celebrate it.

As always, the normal caveats apply: this isn’t a best of list, it’s merely a list of things I read, watched, and listened to in 2025 that made me happy or gave me thinky thoughts. If you’re curious, you can check out my previous year in reviews: 2024, 2023, 2022, 2021, 2020, 2019, 2018, 2017, and 2016.

Non-Fiction

It probably speaks to the nature of 2025 that my most notable reads were about reality. The horrors came so thick and so fast, we couldn’t escape them. The writers whose work impacted me the most faced that head on, specifically Omar El Akkad in One Day, Everyone Will Have Always Been Against This, Hannah Arendt in The Portable Hannah Arendt, and Aaron Parsley in “The River House Broke. We Rushed in the River.”

There’s nothing I could say about El Akkad’s book that hasn’t been said elsewhere; there’s a reason it won the National Book Award for Non-Fiction. But its indictment of the hypocrisy of western values seems more true and more broadly applicable now than when I first read it. Every page is a triumph.

After watching an episode of American Masters on Hannah Arendt, I realized I’d only read snippets of her work. In grappling with her philosophy more substantially, what astonished me wasn’t simply what she had to say about tyranny, but also her analysis of the legal and social conditions that make oppression possible. There are wide ranging applications for conversations around statelessness and citizenship. She absolutely deserves your attention.

Parsley’s first-hand account of his family’s experience during this summer’s Guadalupe River flood is the among the most searing essays I have ever read. I cannot believe he wrote it within days of the event, and I have thought about his family (and his nephew, Clay) every day since.

Music and Podcasts

My podcast of the year is The Review of Mess, a deep dive into beauty, fashion, and pop culture by Jessica DeFino and Emily Kirkpatrick. This is an off-the-wall choice from me because I generally prefer a tightly scripted podcast to a free-wheeling discussion. But since there’s only one episode a month and DeFino and Kirkpatrick have excellent banter, it’s wormed its way into my heart. Grounded in scholarship but aimed at a general audience, it’s always insightful and always a good time. I recommend The Truth About Butter Biscuit Blondes. Try jumping in at :56 for their conversation with Inae Oh about Mar-a-Lago face. They offer true analysis of the MAGA aesthetic, not simply mean (misogynist) snark.

If you want a podcast that will actually make you feel better about humanity, Yo-Yo Ma and Ana González’s Our Common Nature is a glorious exploration of the American landscape steeped in music. The first episode, which focuses on Wabanaki musicians playing to welcome the dawn in Acadia National Park, is exquisite.

I didn’t do much musical exploration this year, and I feel guilty about that. The albums I listened to the most were Lizzy McAlpine’s Older and Older (and Wiser). The (secret) book I wrote over the summer was inspired by a McAlpine song, but no, I won’t tell you which one just yet.

Fiction

I read and loved two books about flailing country music stars: Colton Gentry’s Third Act by Jeff Zentner and August Lane by Regina Black. In very different ways, Zentner and Black explore the burdens and prices of fame and whether it’s possible to go home again. They’re glorious celebrations of music, identity, and the American south. I highly recommend them both.

Also on the emotionally heavy end of the romance spectrum is After Hours at Dooryard Books by Cat Sebastian. A Cat Sebastian book seems to find its way onto my list every year, but, well, they’re just so damn good. This one is about finding and making community when it feels as if the world is ripping apart at the seams–and if that doesn’t convince you that this is the perfect book for our moment, then we have nothing in common as readers.

On the other end of things are Fan Service by Rosie Danan and Long Live Evil by Sarah Rees Brennan. These are both high-concept romances, but ones in which the execution lives up to the premise. Danan’s book finds an aging paranormal TV star actually turning into a werewolf, and Brennan’s has a woman dying of cancer entering (and ultimately revising) her favorite romantasy novel. Both of these books are just so much fun.

My mysteries of the year were both by Ruthie Knox and Annie Mare: Homemaker and its follow up, Trailbreaker. Recently divorced middle age mom Prairie Nightingale is observant. She notices the small details that others discard or ignore, and once she’s seen something that doesn’t fit, she has to know why. These are ripping good mysteries, but they’re also deeply insightful about modern marriage and gender. Oh, and there’s a swoony romance in the background. Please read them so that we can get 20 more.

Movies and Television

Sinners: Darlings, I can’t watch horror movies. I feel bad about that because there’s clearly a deluge of interesting stuff happening in the genre right now, but I am too much of a scaredy cat. As a result, I didn’t think Sinners was for me, until one of my grad school friends insisted, “This is an American studies text. You must watch it.” She was absolutely right. In fact, I’m only sorry that I didn’t see it in theaters because the cinematography was stunning. It’s basically a horror musical (no, really) that ties together history, place, mythology, and race. I adored every second.

Superman: We don’t need another superhero I groused…until I realized that maybe we did. We do need a superhero whose goodness is punk rock. We do need one who stops mid-fight to save a squirrel. We do need one who sits on his parent’s front porch eating cereal out of a mixing bowl while having an existential crisis. And we definitely need a new take on Lex Luthor that exposes tech bros for what they are.

Frankenstein: Look, I’ve got some critiques. Half the cast is chewing the sets, and half are giving quietly naturalist performances, and yes, there are a lot of changes from the book. But the production design is absurdly gorgeous and the alterations, in my mind, clarify and explicate the novel’s message. I loved it.

A Thousand Blows: A boxing show? Yes, okay, I enjoyed a boxing show. Set in the slums of late Victorian London, A Thousand Blows is about the moment when boxing went from back-alley entertainment to socially acceptable sport. Informed by a critical take on British colonialism, it focuses on a trio of fascinating characters anchored by amazing performances from Stephen Graham, Malachi Kirby, and (especially) Erin Doherty. I adored every single one of the female thieves, and I would watch a show about each of them.

Experiences

I took one of my kids to see Lucy Dacus in concert. She opened with “Hot & Heavy,” and when Lucy’s voice came over the speakers, I would swear to you that I had an out of body moment. She was wonderful in concert.

I ran a 5K this year for the first time since COVID. While I was substantially slower than before–substantially–crossing the finish line was incredible…and almost worth how sore I was the next day.

In December, I was in my office grading papers and minding my business when my agent emailed me to let me know that Bold Moves was on the NYT/Olivia Waite’s Best Romances of 2025 list. I honestly cannot express how flabbergasted I was and how much seeing my book in that amazing company meant to me.