Deborah Mason

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Dr. Alexa Hagerty, an associate fellow at the University of Cambridge and an anthropologist with a Ph.D. from Stanford, can read bones. In Still Life With Bones: Genocide, Forensics, and What Remains, Hagerty explores the close connection between bones and words. Like words, bones can be articulated (arranged into a coherent form, such as a skeleton) and become articulate (capable of clear expression). Using sight, touch, smell and even sound, Hagerty can interpret the stories that bones conceal. For example, she can tell by touch if a bone’s fracture took place before, during or after its owner’s death. She can piece together the shattered remnants of a little girl’s skull to reveal the bullet hole in the middle of her forehead. She can even determine how a person’s occupation shaped their bones. A dairy worker might have compression fractures in their neck from leaning their face against a cow’s flank. A grooved incisor might once have held a tailor’s pins.

Still Life With Bones is in part a memoir of how Hagerty gained this extraordinary expertise, recounting the physically and emotionally draining work of meticulously searching for bones and identifying the dead and how they died. It sounds bleak, but there is also pleasure in these pages: the camaraderie of co-workers, the friendly competition among fellow students and the joy when a skeleton is reunited with the community who believed they would never see their beloved again. 

However, Still Life With Bones is more than just a memoir. Woven throughout these memories and lyrical reflections on bones, anthropology and storytelling are the actual horrors that some particular bones reveal. Hagerty did her fieldwork in the mass graves of Guatemala and Argentina; her subjects are the victims of genocidal wars committed by dictators against these countries’ citizens. Her colleagues are forensic anthropologists committed to reclaiming the dead and returning them to their grieving families at great personal risk and cost. Every beautifully written page of this extraordinary book affirms the individuality of each victim, and honors the living who serve them and their survivors.

Anthropologist Alexa Hagerty's extraordinary memoir pays tribute to the victims of genocide in South America, whose bones Hagerty returned to their grieving families.
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Anne Lamott’s classic love letter to aspiring writers, Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life (6.5 hours), was first published in 1995, and anyone who has read it knows how much Lamott loves writing and teaching others how to write. This new audiobook, narrated by the author for the first time, reminds us of just how deeply she admires new writers for having the audacity and desire to write. 

Let’s be clear: Lamott is not a gushy or sentimental reader. She has a dry, ironic delivery that can turn on a dime. She can make us laugh out loud at the many ways writers sabotage themselves and then, without warning, disclose her own struggles with both clarity and humility. She urgently wants her students to write not with the intention of achieving fame or wealth but because storytelling is an essential mark of our humanity, and her passion resonates throughout this inspiring recording.

Anne Lamott knows that storytelling is an essential mark of our humanity, and her urgency and passion resonate throughout this inspiring recording.
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In Butts: A Backstory (8 hours), a sometimes cheeky but always fascinating cultural history of the butt, Heather Radke makes the case that our butts are proxies for society’s negative views of race, gender and sex.  

Emily Tremaine’s narration captures the nuances of Radke’s message. Her tone is lighthearted when describing an unlikely race between humans and horses (we win, by the way, thanks to our butts); outraged when recounting the tragic story of Sarah Baartman, the so-called “Hottentot Venus”; and convincing when connecting society’s changing definitions of the unattainable “ideal butt” to racism and sexism. Best of all, Tremaine is passionate when she gives voice to Radke’s call to reject those expectations and instead embrace ourselves—butts and all—as unique and valuable and beautiful.

Also in BookPage: Read our cheeky interview with Heather Radke, author of Butts.

Voice actor Emily Tremaine is passionate as she gives voice to Heather Radke’s call to celebrate ourselves—from top to tail—as unique and valuable and beautiful.
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When his beloved older brother was diagnosed with terminal cancer, Patrick Bringley sought a refuge—and found it at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, where he took a job as a security guard. He worked there for 10 years, watching both people and art, and all the while noticing fine details that others were too busy or preoccupied to see. His memoir of his career at the Met, All the Beauty in the World: The Metropolitan Museum of Art and Me (6 hours), is a moving reflection on not only art but also all the messy, mundane, tragic, glorious and moving aspects of our lives.

Bringley’s reading of his book is sensitive and gentle. His soft-spoken narration reflects the profundity that comes from years of humbly observing and interacting with this magnificent museum, the works it houses, the people who serve it and the visitors who explore it. The accompanying PDF contains lovely sketches of the works Bringley reflects on, adding extra layers of enjoyment to this extraordinary audiobook.


Also in BookPage: Read our review of the print edition.

Patrick Bringley’s soft-spoken narration reflects his years of humbly observing and interacting with the Met, the works it houses, the people who serve it and the visitors who explore it.
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In the age of COVID-19, it is impossible not to appreciate how a virus can upend societies, reshape politics and divide populations. But what many of us do not know, and what Pathogenesis: A History of the World in Eight Plagues makes clear, is that viruses and bacteria have been integral to all of human history—including the emergence of Homo sapiens as the sole surviving human species on the planet. In his debut book, public health scholar Jonathan Kennedy explains the complex interplay of humans, germs and animals, and the consequences of those interactions.

Most of us know about the carnage of the Black Death and the devastating impact smallpox had on Indigenous populations. But there have been many other plagues, and the ways their combined effects helped create the modern world make for compelling reading. For example, Kennedy tells how the bubonic plague was a significant factor in creating a new European economy, which in turn influenced the colonization of the Americas. That colonization resulted in not only the decimation of Native populations but also the introduction of enslaved West Africans to take Native Americans’ place as forced laborers—as well as the introduction of the viruses that cause yellow fever and malaria. These diseases contributed to the liberation of Haiti from colonial rule, as well as the economic conditions that supported chattel slavery and its attendant horrors in the Southern American colonies. These forces in turn gave rise to other deadly epidemics that had their own repercussions, and on and on.

Kennedy is not arguing that germs were the sole contributors to these and other historical events; economic, sociological and political factors also played their roles. But Pathogenesis makes a convincing case that germs did help mold history—and that history in turn affected how germs evolved and traveled around the globe with ferocious efficacy. Kennedy’s final chapters are cautionary but not pessimistic. What has happened in the past can happen again—but not necessarily in the same way. With this knowledge, perhaps we can be better armed when, not if, the next plague emerges.

Public health scholar Jonathan Kennedy makes a convincing case that germs, viruses and diseases have helped to mold human history.
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In 2018, a group of protestors demanded the removal of a statue in New York City of J. Marion Sims, known as the “father of gynecology.” Sims was given this title for inventing a surgery in the mid-1800s to treat vesico-vaginal fistulas, holes between someone’s vagina and bladder or intestines (or both) that are usually caused by difficult childbirth. He developed his technique through horrific experiments performed on three enslaved women named Anarcha, Lucy and Betsey, without either anesthesia or meaningful consent. Anarcha endured at least 30 experiments, but her condition never improved, mainly because Sims’ approach was ineffective—and frequently fatal. Say Anarcha: A Young Woman, a Devious Surgeon, and the Harrowing Birth of Modern Women’s Health is Guggenheim fellow J.C. Hallman’s dual biography of Sims and Anarcha.

Sims, a shameless self-promoter, provided Hallman with an ample record to work with. His memoirs, articles and newspaper notices (written primarily by Sims himself) make it clear that he was dangerously, violently misogynist and racist. Cloaked by his medical degree and bolstered by a system that transformed human beings into disposable property, Sims was able to perform acts of brutality on Lucy, Betsey and Anarcha with impunity. And they were not his only victims: After perfecting his “cure,” Sims and his adherents maimed or killed women of all classes, from enslaved people to countesses.

Hallman’s greater challenge was reconstructing Anarcha’s life. The structure of chattel slavery ensured that the few references to Anarcha in the historical record merely reflected her status as property, leaving Hallman with the dilemma of how to tell the true story of a woman whom history had almost entirely erased. Historian Tiya Miles confronted a similar issue in All That She Carried, a brilliant reconstruction of the life of another enslaved woman and her descendants. Like Miles, Hallman uses the technique of “creative fabulation”—consulting various oral and written histories from Anarcha’s lifetime to creatively fill in the gaps within an archive distorted by racism and misogyny. The result is a nuanced and sympathetic speculative portrait of a woman who would otherwise remain anonymous.

Double biographies are fairly unusual and tend to be about people who were linked together in the minds of their contemporaries. But Anarcha was not associated with Sims in the public mind because Sims took great pains to ensure that she would not be—not because of any shame he felt about exploiting an enslaved woman but because the recurrence of her fistulas belied Sims’s narrative. Hallman’s determination to bring Anarcha out of obscurity restores her humanity and allows readers to reexamine the corrupt foundations of women’s health care.

Say Anarcha is J.C. Hallman’s dual biography of the so-called “father of gynecology” and the enslaved woman he experimented on without anesthesia or meaningful consent.
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In Caldecott Medalist Brian Selznick’s Big Tree (2.5 hours), sibling sycamore seeds Merwin and Louise learn that even the tiniest among us have the power to save the world. This is a gentle, smart fable that introduces young children to the web of life and the cycle of life, death and renewal.  

Academy Award winner Meryl Streep brings charm and depth to her performance of the audiobook. She endows each character, including the baby seeds, their wise mama and even time itself, with a distinct and memorable voice, and her narration is as warm as a soft blanket. The audiobook lacks the print edition’s 300 illustrations, but Ernest Troost’s orchestral music re-creates the actions and emotions of the story, enhancing Streep’s narration without overpowering it. The result is a production that preserves the accessibility and enjoyability of Selznick’s complex (and sometimes scary) story for young readers.


Read our starred review of the print edition of Big Tree.

Academy Award winner Meryl Streep brings charm and depth to her performance of the audiobook of Brian Selznick’s Big Tree.
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The seven reimagined fairy tales in Kelly Link’s White Cat, Black Dog (8 hours) are so convincing that we don’t merely suspend our sense of disbelief; rather, we drop it like a hot potato. We accept without question, for example, the enchanted prince and the extraordinarily resourceful cat because Link makes the implausible seem utterly natural.

The audiobook’s seven narrators (Rebecca Lowman, Dan Stevens, Dominic Hoffman, Kristen Sieh, Ish Klein, Tanya Cubric and Patton Oswalt) understand how important this plausibility is to making Link’s fairy tales work. In these performances, the fact that a bear might be telling a story matters far less than the story being told, and therein lies the wonder of a fairy tale. All of the actors do an excellent job, but Lowman, Stevens and Oswalt stand out for their ability to convince the listener that the magic is real—and the real, magical.

In the audiobook of Kelly Link’s story collection, the fact that a bear might be telling a story matters far less than the story being told, and therein lies the wonder of a fairy tale.
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Sarah Weinman’s 2020 true crime anthology, Unspeakable Acts, used the true crime genre as a startling, sometimes terrifying mirror to accurately reflect humanity’s desire to both enact and consume violence. Evidence of Things Seen: True Crime in an Era of Reckoning now extends the themes explored in that anthology, confronting the thorny question of what we should do with this knowledge of society’s darker impulses.

The book’s title is a riff on James Baldwin’s 1985 essay on the Atlanta child murders, “Evidence of Things Not Seen,” which examined how, in a city “too busy to hate,” racism still blinded police, media and politicians to the humanity of the victims, their grieving families and the accused. In this vein, every essay in this book takes it as a given that forces such as social media, misogyny, racism and classism play essential roles in how we perceive crime, from the commission of the crime itself and our perceptions of the victim to the penalties for the wrongdoers. Then the essayists explore the implications of those truths.

For example, Samantha Schuyler’s “The Short Life of Toylin Salau and a Legacy Still at Work” links the invisibility of Black victims of rape and murder to the violent and racist policing of communities of color. In “Who Owns Amanda Knox?” exoneree Amanda Knox asks how and whether the wrongly accused can regain their lives and privacy in the era of social media sensationalism. Mallika Rao’s heartbreaking “Three Bodies in Texas” details the destruction of an immigrant family in Frisco, Texas. And Sophie Haigney’s confessional “To the Son of the Victim” questions whether intrusions into private grief are justified by the public’s “right to know.”

Weinman’s sensitive selection of these and other articles in the anthology will provoke a wide range of reactions—sorrow, anger, indignation and even optimism. Perhaps they will also provoke a reckoning with how true crime lovers engage with stories of transgression and justice.

Sarah Weinman’s second true crime anthology confronts how social media, misogyny, racism and classism shape how we perceive crime.
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Daniel Wallace (Big Fish) idolized his brother-in-law, William Nealy—an artist, author, outdoorsman and renegade—until the day he died by a meticulously planned suicide in July 2001. In This Isn’t Going to End Well: The True Story of a Man I Thought I Knew (6.5 hours), Wallace paints a double portrait of his friend: the heroic mask he presented to the world, and the traumatized, troubled man behind it.

This story is painful. The audiobook begins with information on how to contact the 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline), and listeners should be prepared for a frank exploration of Nealy’s lifetime of suicidal ideation. But Wallace’s tale of loss, anger and absolution is also redemptive and beautiful, and Audie Award winner Michael Crouch’s sensitive and convincing narration gently leads the reader toward Wallace’s reconciliation with his beloved friend.


Daniel Wallace shares more about his discovery that writing a memoir is “very, very, very hard.”

Daniel Wallace’s tale of loss, anger and absolution is painful yet redemptive, and Audie Award winner Michael Crouch’s sensitive and convincing narration gently leads the reader toward Wallace’s reconciliation with a beloved friend.
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In Goodbye Eastern Europe: An Intimate History of a Divided Land, journalist and historian Jacob Mikanowski manages to pull off the nearly impossible: An accessible and detailed history of Eastern Europe that spans 2,000 years in under 400 pages. 

The book’s subtitle reveals both the greatest challenge he faces and the advantage he brings to the task. Eastern Europe is indeed a divided land. Numerous migrations, invasions and empires have led to hundreds, if not thousands, of ethnic groups living cheek by jowl across the lands between Western Europe and Russia. Their languages, religions and customs have co-existed, sometimes peacefully, sometimes not. Over the centuries, their countries have merged—as loose confederations, united republics, and vassal countries or regions in larger empires—and broken apart. 

The resulting complex and haunting history is also tragic. During the early 20th century, wars smashed through Eastern Europe, leaving millions dead or displaced while setting the stage for Soviet domination over the region. 

Telling this story, which could fill many volumes, within the confines of just one is daunting. It would be tempting to glide over details in the interest of brevity or to rely too heavily on statistics, allowing numbers to tell the story. Instead, Mikanowski deliberately frames his book as an intimate history—intimate, because the story of all these different people is also the story of his family. Like each of us, Mikanowski is a product of history. Polish princes, Lithuanian merchants and Jewish scholars all played a part in his family background, and their lives were shaped, and often shortened, by history. 

This very personal perspective gives depth and humanity to Goodbye Eastern Europe, along with urgency. In this increasingly divided world, Mikanowski reminds us that differences can lead to resentment and violence. But he also points out that countries can embrace these divisions, making themselves and their people stronger as a result. Goodbye Eastern Europe is both cautionary tale and signpost.

Journalist and historian Jacob Mikanowski manages to pull off the nearly impossible—an accessible and detailed history of Eastern Europe that spans 2,000 years in under 400 pages.
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In Fatherland: A Memoir of War, Conscience, and Family Secrets (9 hours), New Yorker staff writer Burkhard Bilger recounts his search for the truth about his grandfather, Karl Gönner, a former Nazi party chief who was credited with shielding an Alsace village from Nazi reprisals—and also accused of being a war criminal who ordered the death of an innocent man.

Bilger’s narration of his book reflects the ambiguity of his family’s history. Raised in Oklahoma by German immigrant parents, Bilger has a barely perceptible Oklahoma twang, softened by years spent away from his birthplace. He also speaks fluent German, a clear legacy from his extended family that sometimes inflects his spoken English. Like Karl, Bilger’s voice is neither purely one thing nor another, but rather an unexpected amalgam reminding the listener that human stories are not drawn in black and white but in complex and varied shades of gray.

Read our starred review of the print edition of Fatherland.

New Yorker staff writer Burkhard Bilger’s narration of his book reflects the ambiguity of his family’s history.
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Three months after her father died, Canadian author and artist Kyo Maclear took a DNA test from a genealogy website. Her resulting memoir, Unearthing: A Story of Tangled Love and Family Secrets, could have taken its subtitle from the test’s disclaimer: “You may discover unanticipated facts about yourself or your family.” Nothing was more unanticipated than the discovery that her beloved father, journalist and documentary filmmaker Michael Maclear, was not her biological father.

Maclear is able to piece together the facts of her biological father’s identity, even the names and locations of her half siblings. But she knows she is unable to uncover the truth of her origins—the hows and whys of her birth—without the help of her mother, her father’s unruly, Japanese ex-wife. And that is where her quandary lies, because her mother is firmly rooted in the present with no interest in reconstructing the past. Furthermore, even if her mother wanted to tell Kyo the entire story of her origins, her ability to piece it together fades as she gradually succumbs to dementia.

As Maclear probes more deeply into her the intertwined story of her three parents—her mother, her father, and her biological father—more questions are raised than can possibly be answered. What is identity? What obligations do we have to people who happen to share our DNA? As her mother’s memory fades, these questions become deeper, more personal. Reconciliation seems impossible to Maclear, though, when the other person will not or cannot break the lifelong silence. Challenging the idea that our life story follows an arc, Maclear instead posits life as a free-form construction of patches of memory, actions and silences.

Maclear’s writing is poetic in the best sense. Using the image of her mother’s wild, rambling garden as a foundation, Maclear examines these questions in detail, without proposing a pat answer to any of them because, ultimately, they are unanswerable. Instead, Maclear allows the reader to struggle with them as she did, granting her audience the space and silence to reconcile the gaps and secrets in their own lives.

When Kyo Maclear takes a DNA test from a genealogy website, her entire family history is uprooted, leading her on a disorienting yet rich exploration of identity.

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