As usual, I’ve been thinking a lot about books lately. I’ve considered the books that made me into the writer I became as well as the books I read to write The Professor of Eventide. Needless to say, I spent a lot of time reading this summer and my tastes were eclectic. The books I read spanned centuries, genres, and styles, and each one invited me to slow down and pay closer attention to the world around me while rediscovering a sense of wonder. Here are my favorite reads from Summer 2026.

Emily Wilde’s Map of the Otherlands and Emily Wilde’s Compendium of Lost Tales by Heather Fawcett

There are books that entertain and make you want to linger inside their world, and the Emily Wilde novels by Heather Fawcett do exactly that for me. I read the first book in the series a few months ago, and it was time to immerse myself once again in Emily Wilde’s world. I loved Book Two so much I went right into Book Three.

There’s so much I love about these cozy fantasies. I adore the combination of Emily’s single-minded focus on scholarship as well as the faery lands and enchantments. Emily approaches the study of faeries with the meticulous curiosity of an academic, and as someone who has always loved old libraries, forgotten folklore, and professors who know a little more than they initially reveal, these novels were a good summer read for me. 

I admit that I appreciate the low stakes in the Emily books. Yes, she frequently finds herself in trouble, but the danger is resolved within a few pages. I recently saw that there’s going to be a fourth Emily Wilde book coming out, and I’m there for that. 

Walden and Civil Disobedience by Henry David Thoreau

A few months ago I watched the documentary about Thoreau on PBS, and I liked it so much I read the biography by Laura Dassow Walls, who was one of the talking heads in the documentary. I enjoyed the biography and learned a lot about Thoreau as a person, so I decided it was time to reread two of Thoreau’s classics. 

As I’m working to find a more peaceful life, I find that Thoreau’s words particularly resonated with me. The funny thing about rereading Thoreau is that each time I read him I find something new to ponder. This summer, I found myself lingering over his reflections on what it means to pay attention. His invitation to live deliberately felt especially meaningful after several busy years spent immersed in writing and publishing.

Then there’s Civil Disobedience, which offers a different kind of reflection. Thoreau’s thoughts about conscience, responsibility, and individual conviction continue to resonate, perhaps more strongly now than ever. This is the essay that inspired the likes of Gandhi and Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr, so it’s an important work in American literature.

A Psalm for the Wild-Built by Becky Chambers

I had seen Becky Chambers’s A Psalm for the Wild-Built on several reading lists, and I finally decided to give it a try. I was absolutely charmed by this book. Its premise appears simple, yet its questions are profound. What does it mean to live a meaningful life? Must our value always be measured by productivity? These are questions that I’ve been contemplating in my own life lately, and I imagine others are doing so as well. This book is a short read, but I found it surprisingly thoughtful. There is another Monk and Robot book, and I will certainly read it.

Blue Pastures by Mary Oliver

I’ve loved Mary Oliver’s writing for years, and it was time to revisit her thoughtfulness. Reading Blue Pastures, a collection of essays, felt like taking a daily walk with someone who notices everything. Oliver possessed an extraordinary ability to transform ordinary encounters with the natural world into moments of transcendental reflection, and she was inspired by Thoreau. Like Thoreau, Oliver reminds me that paying attention to the natural world is a creative practice in itself. 

Don Quixote by Miguel de Cervantes

Don Quixote by Miguel de Cervantes is considered the first modern novel, and this 900+ page novel was my big book for this summer. I read it little by little over the course of three months, and I’m glad I took the time to savor it because I absolutely love this story. It’s really clever in so many ways. I love the adventures that Don Quixote and his faithful squire Sancho Panza find themselves in. Although Book One was published in 1605 and Book Two was published in 1615, the book feels remarkably modern. And to be honest, I didn’t realize that it was so funny until I started reading it. I mean, it’s laugh-out-loud funny. For a book that’s more than four centuries old, the humor holds up amazingly well. Don Quixote is a 5++ read for me, I loved it that much. 

If you’re not familiar with the premise, Alonso Quijano has read many books about romance and chivalry, and so he renames himself Don Quixote and decides to travel, seeking adventures in order to right the wrongs of his society as knights errant did in the books he loved. Those around Don Quixote declare him mad, and his friends are determined to bring him home. While Quixote’s idealized visions often lead him into absurd situations (such as mistaking windmills for giants), the story also reveals something beautiful about hope and the human need for stories. Today, we’d call it an extreme version of romanticizing your life. 

Don Quixote is also one of the first metafictions, and Book Two includes characters who have read Book One. It’s really pretty brilliant. The background about why Cervantes wrote Book Two is a great story in itself. I could go on and on about the reasons why I love this book, but I’ll just say that I love the chemistry between Don Quixote and Sancho Panza, and their banter makes the whole book for me. Sometimes it’s hard to tell who is leading who. Who is mad and who isn’t? That’s one of the lingering questions in this novel. 

If you love audiobooks, I can’t recommend the audiobook narrated by George Guidall enough. 5++ stars for Guidall’s amazing narration. His voices for Don Quixote and especially Sancho Panza really brought the book to life. I’m a dork, so I listened to the audiobook while following along in the text. I read and listened to Edith Grossman’s translation, which I loved. How a work is translated is important to how we appreciate and understand it. See below.

The Odyssey by Homer

Yes, I went to see the movie and, yes, I loved it. The Odyssey is the first film I’ve been excited to go see in the cinema in a long time. I’ve read both The Iliad and The Odyssey before, years ago as an undergrad English major. I’m old enough that we used the Richmond Lattimore translations, and I still have my copy of The Iliad from university, a paperback from 1961 that I bought used when I was taking my classes. I wanted to refresh my memory before I went to go see the movie, so I reread The Odyssey. I’ve also taught The Odyssey a few times over the years, so I know the story well. 

There’s been a whole discussion online about Emily Wilson’s translation of The Odyssey. It’s important for readers to remember that not every translation is for everyone. If you’re interested in reading The Odyssey, my suggestion is to read a few pages of the various translations and see which one you like better. Be sure to read the same section in each book so you can see how the different translators wrote the same scenes. It’s easier to get a compare and contrast for style that way. 

Again, being a dork, I read both Wilson’s and Fagles’s translations. I seem to have lost my Lattimore version of The Odyssey over the years. As an English teacher, I love Wilson’s translation because it’s easy to understand, the vocabulary is accessible, and it has a good conversational feel to the rhythm of the language. As a result, it will entice readers who might otherwise be intimidated by tackling a classic like The Odyssey. As a reader, I prefer the Robert Fagles translation. It’s personal preference, that’s all. I like Wilson’s translation, but with Fagles’s translation I feel as if I’m more immersed in the story. Also, the Ian McKellan audiobook that goes along with the Fagles translation is freakin’ awesome. I mean, it’s Sir Ian. 

It’s important to remember that all translators have to make decisions about how to translate the words as well as the underlying meanings that come with cultural and historical context. There is no correct translation of The Odyssey, so my suggestion is always to choose the translation that best suits your reading tastes. If you dig the Wilson translation more than the others, then don’t listen to the haters. Enjoy the version that speaks to you.

And if you want to watch a great epic film, watch Nolan’s version of The Odyssey. Any film, just like any book, is going to interpret the story in its own way. I think the film was a wildly entertaining interpretation and it was the best film I’ve seen in a long time. Two thumbs up from me.

My hope is that people will love the film so much that they’ll want to read The Odyssey, which, like Don Quixote, has been seminal in setting the groundwork for modern storytelling. It seems to already be happening, so that’s a good thing. Maybe Christopher Nolan will tackle Don Quixote next?