Ten Best Books of 2025

I tend to see a gap between my own life and the life of the Washington Post (or the NYTimes). Here is my personal list of the literary highlights from 2025.

*STUPID TV, BE MORE FUNNY. "The Simpsons" is widely seen as the single greatest show in the history of TV, and that's mostly because of its astounding debut (years one through ten). I see my family in this show--but I also see my neighbor, my former colleague, my husband's nemesis, my Internet fixation, my mentor. How can one show--just one show--have space for Ned Flanders, Edna Krabappel, Mayor Quimby, Comic Book Guy, and Bleeding Gums Murphy? Not to mention Fred (of the Quimby dynasty), Grampa Simpson, Moe, Krusty, Rev. Lovejoy, Helen Lovejoy...The list goes on and on. No TV is more important to me than "Scenes From the Class Struggle in Springfield," "Bart vs. Thanksgiving," "Radio Bart." "Stupid TV" is the intelligent, well-researched, impassioned "fan letter" that this series deserves.

*CRISS CROSS. One of Hitchcock's especially wonderful creations was Bruno, the villain in "Strangers on a Train." It's insane that Robert Walker didn't earn an Oscar nomination. Now, "Strangers" (the source of a "Simpsons" parody) has received a book-length analytical treatment from a sharp critic. Mainly, I love "Criss Cross" because it documents Robert Walker's braininess and playfulness--most of the people around him understood the scope of his achievement even as he was still building and refining the character of Bruno Antony. I also enjoyed seeing Hitchcock's thorny relationship with Raymond Chandler. (News to me.)

*SPENT. Here, Alison Bechdel writes of purple "vegan" dildos and the weirdness of the term "polycule." There is also a funny erotic passage about the actor Cherry Jones. It's nice to observe a brilliant artist having fun.

*SHE'S UNDER HERE. How this memoir slipped under the NYT's radar is baffling to me. A thrilling tale of a woman who "abducted" her children to escape from her abusive spouse. Its candor is inspiring. The writer herself--resourceful, self-doubting, haunted--is good company.

*HOLLOW SPACES. An immigrant lawyer is accused of murder; he disappears. A few decades later, his two children try to decide if he was really guilty. This is a gripping story of family and racism; also, it avoids the trap of being heavy-handed. There are at least three memorable characters here--that's a high number for any novelist (and certainly for a first-time novelist).

*HEART THE LOVER. Although this is "literary" fiction, it manages to be sexy, suspenseful, and plot-driven. Miraculous book.

*RACE AGAINST TERROR. Jake Tapper delivers exactly what I want from non-fiction: a psychopath, a tense legal showdown, a surprising cameo from Barack Obama. I also loved Tapper's other recent book--ORIGINAL SIN. He is doing God's work.

*THE PARDON. A short history of Nixon's strategies for talking his way into a Presidential pardon--and a discussion of Nixon's impact on Trumpian politics. Also: a savvy dissection of "groupthink." Finally: a thoughtful analysis of the word "forgiveness"--and of the many, many forms that forgiveness can take.

*THE MYSTERIOUS CASE OF THE MISSING CRIME WRITER. Deeply satisfying mystery novel in the Agatha Christie tradition. Twisty and unpretentious.

*WHEN ALL THE MEN WORE HATS. Susan Cheever shares gossip about her immortal father. I was riveted by the discussion of Cheever's fraught professional bond with William Maxwell. I'm also grateful for Susan Cheever's incisive reading of "Reunion"--one of her father's many literary magic tricks.

There you have it. Signing off.

How to Host a Baby

-You have assumed responsibility for a mewling, puking ball of life, a yellow-lab pup. He will spit his half-digested kibble all over your shoes, all over your hard-cover edition of Jennifer Haigh's novel Faith . He will eat your tables, your chairs, your "I {Heart] Montessori" magnet, placed too low on the fridge. When you try to watch Bette Davis in Hush Hush Sweet Charlotte , on your TV, your dog will bark through the murder-prologue, for no apparent reason. He will whimper through Lena Dunham's Girls , such that you have to rewind several times to catch every nuance of Andrew Rannells's ad-libbing--and, still, you'll have a nagging suspicion you've missed something. Your dog will poop on the kitchen floor, in the hallway, between the tiny bars of his crate. He'll announce his wakefulness at 5 AM, 2 AM, or while you and another human are mid-coitus. All this, and you get outside, and it's: "Don't let him pee on my tulips!" When...

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Outside, Mary held Jack's arm and walked with her head down. They moved slowly on the sidewalk. He listened to the scuffing sounds her shoes made. He heard the sharp and separate sound of a dog barking and above that a murmuring of very distant traffic. She raised her head. "When we get home, Jack, I want to be fucked, talked to, diverted. Divert me, Jack. I need to be diverted tonight." She tightened her hold on his arm. He could feel the dampness in that shoe. He unlocked the door and flipped the light. "Come to bed," she said. "I'm coming," he said. He went to the kitchen and drank two glasses of water. He turned off the living-room light and felt his way along the wall into the bedroom. "Jack!" she yelled. "Jack!" "Jesus Christ, it's me!" he said. "I'm trying to get the light on." He found the lamp, and she sat up in bed. Her eyes were bright. He pulled the stem on the alarm and b...

Liars and Saints

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