Though I had assured my Smoky Mountain News editor I’d deliver a real book review this week — my to-read stack includes biographies of Karl Marx and Supreme Court Justice Samuel Alito, a novel, two books of essays on education, and more — book-centered distractions in late May led me in a different direction. 

“In the new science, the new worldviews, we are not nouns, we are verbs.”

Rebecca Solnit’s book “The Beginning Comes After the End: Notes on a World of Change” (Haymarket Books, 2026, 149 pages) is something of a scholarly study and a personal prophesy. Is Solnit’s title for her book right that there may be a new beginning following a time of cataclysm, or are we at the beginning of the “end times” as prophesied in the Bible?

One May evening in Holt, Colorado, septuagenarian and widow Addie Moore makes her way to the home of Louis Waters, a widower also in his 70s. They’ve lived within a block of each other for decades, and Addie had always admired Louis’ wife. After exchanging a few pleasantries, Addie says she has a proposal for Louis.

One of the reasons I love writing book reviews is it keeps me from getting stuck in a loop of predictable reads. While I still read what I enjoy, I learn to enjoy what I read, especially when it isn’t a genre I would’ve picked up on my own. The book this time was a military fiction: Harry Crocker III’s “Kruger’s Korps” (Knox Press, 2026, 224 pages).  

“Some historians would say that ‘thinkers’ are behind the ideas and mythologies people live by. I think it also goes back to maize, reindeer, squash, sweet potatoes, and rice.”
— Gary Snyder

If you ever wanted to know what it would be like to live a self-sufficient lifestyle and largely off-the-grid, then “Lambs in Winter” (Bright Leaf Press, 2024, 215 pages) by Alexis Lathem might be the book for you, especially if you are a woman.  

Sometimes a book appears which changes the course of our nation’s history and culture. 

Harriet Beecher Stowe’s “Uncle Tom’s Cabin” gave a face to slavery and helped bring on the Civil War. Now rarely read, Upton Sinclair’s 1906 novel “The Jungle” exposed the unsanitary conditions of the meatpacking industry and so repulsed the American people that it brought about federal reforms regarding food safety.

When I was growing up, my father had a bookshelf with glass doors. Behind the delicate handles were elegant hardcovers, fairy tale collections with beautiful illustrations and sentimental classics, like “The Lord of the Rings” trilogy he had bought and read back in the 1970s. But he had another bookshelf, a doorless one, that made all its books far more accessible, attainable, but in some ways slightly less alluring.

Bill and Alice Hart know each other’s stories by heart, have been known to finish each other’s sentences and share an obvious trait — the calm satisfaction of having led purpose-filled lives. 

The seeds of that satisfaction began the old-fashioned way — through courtship. William “Bill” Hart, of rural Buncombe County, met Alice Huff, of Sylva, 67 years ago at Western Carolina Teachers College.

I find that more often than not, you don’t find the books you need to read, they find you. A few months ago, a work acquaintance suggested “Healing Back Pain” by John E. Sarno, M.D. (Warner Books, 1991, 193 pages) and it couldn’t have come at a more opportune time. 

If you want to feel how lucky you are, just read Brian Barth’s “Front Street (Resistance and Rebirth in the Tent Cities of Techlandia)” (Astra House, 2025, 287 pages). Barth, with maternal roots in WNC going back eight generations and who is a freelance journalist who writes for National Geographic, The Nation, The New Yorker and others and who has won prestigious medals and awards, literally takes us in hand to some of the most populated homeless camps in Silicon Valley in the Bay Area of northern California, introducing us to a cast of characters, describing their personal stories, private philosophies and political activism in order to explain why the country’s current approach to homelessness has become at once cruel and ineffective.