Kat’s 2026 Book List

Fiction

The Widow, by John Grisham. I chose this as my first book of 2026 (after slogging through my final 2025 book for several weeks) because Grisham was one of my mom’s favorite’s, and I often find myself honoring her with my book choices. The Widow was described as Grisham’s first whodunnit (most of his other books are courtroom dramas), but it takes an awfully long time for the “dunnit” to get done. Once the victim dies, the novel curiously seems to go into warp speed as the protagonist is charged with murder – and gets a lot more interesting. I also enjoyed Grisham’s reference to John D. McDonald, my dad’s favorite author (in fact, I don’t recall my dad reading anything but John D. McDonald). As noted, I’ve made many reading homages to my mom, but never to my dad, so I’ve decided to read a John D. McDonald 60s detective novel this year.

Tart, by Slutty Cheff. I chose this selection because my son read it, and it seemed like a fun, relatively short read after what seemed like a lengthy streak of long books. It’s the memoir of a Brit career gal who is bored with corporate life and decides to become a chef. The book is indeed fun and amusing and essentially about food/cooking and sex, both of which “Slutty Cheff” is passionate about. I was surprised by the amount of sex and the casualness of both the sex and substance use, but not deterred from enjoying a nice little diversion from serious reading.

Kin, by Tayari Jones, is the third book I’ve read by Jones, and I’ve enjoyed all of them. This one features two young, motherless black women in the mid-20th century. Both in their own way are in quest of a mother or mother figure. I was completely engaged.

The Long Blue Goodbye, by John D. McDonald. I quickly made good on my vow to pay homage to my dad by reading a John D. McDonald novel. This was the first in his nine Travis McGee series, all with a color in their titles. I can see why my dad liked the books; they’re lively and well-written. Private detective McGee is very popular with the ladies, and I was a little surprised at the amount of sex. The book was written in 1964, and the swinging 60s hadn’t quite come to fruition at that point. McDonald writes about it pretty obliquely, not even approaching soft porn. As I do with many stories of this type, I had trouble visualizing the action scenes. The story revolves around stolen money and the charismatic but nasty guy who hid it inside driveway statuary. The book was perfectly fine, but I don’t feel a need to read anymore McDonald.

Falling Apart and Other Gifts from the Universe, by Catherine Ryan Hyde. Regulars probably recall that Hyde is one of my fall-back authors whose work I always know I’ll like. Her standard cast of characters – kids, curmudgeons, broken people, animals — were all place in this novel. A homeless teen encounters a curmudgeonly, recovering-alcoholic security guard. Not everyone is redeemed — the teen’s drug-addicted friend disappears, and we don’t learn her fate. Others are redeemed enough to get a dog toward the end. Hyde’s books center me and remind me the world is full of problems, but the reminder comes in the form of her comforting writing.

Best Offer Wins by Marisa Kashino, is best described as a “real estate thriller.” I chose it on the recommendation of a gal I follow on Facebook who does videos with book recommendations. This is one of those “protagonist is a terrible person, but you still root for them” books.

Nonfiction

The Boys, by Ron Howard and Clint Howard. This memoir feels like a bit of an inconsequential guilty pleasure, but when it caught my eye, I knew I’d enjoy it. Ron Howard and I grew up together, in the sense that he was born in the same month and year I was. We’ve lived against the same backdrop of history. And, of course, I’ve followed both his acting and directing careers, and some of his films, like Apollo 13, are among my favorites. Ron and Clint narrate the memoir alternately; I didn’t realize how successful Clint had been as a child actor. The book offers lots of enjoyable details about their acting careers and is a love note to their extraordinary parents. Rance and Jean Howard had show-biz ambitions themselves, but their sons were a lot more successful. Meanwhile, the parents gave Ron and Clint a much more normal childhood than many show-biz kids seem to have had. The “boys” don’t get very very into Ron’s directing career, which is a bit of a letdown, but I’m guessing it’s because Clint didn’t have a parallel story to tell about that time.