Hello again, friends! It's the last full newsletter of the year (I'm planning to write a special edition with 2025 favorites) and I have a lot to talk about!

Favorite books of the quarter

My Aunt is a Monster by Remeina Yee: This middle grade graphic novel is one I'd recommend for upper elementary kids, but I genuinely loved it as an adult too. Safia is left an orphan after the tragic death of her parents and is sent to live with a mysterious aunt. But can they overcome the echoes of the past to understand each other?

The Forgotten Summer of Seneca by Camryn Garrett: A middle grade fantasy with a historical twist, based on the true story of Seneca Village, a primarily Black community demolished so Central Park could be built. It's not exactly time travel, but there's some slippage in time and it makes for a nice contrast between the modern world and the magical, without villifying either.

North Continent Ribbon by Ursula Whitcher: Adult science fiction; finalist for the Le Guin Prize. The book is made up of individual short stories set in a shared universe, which I loved. I particularly liked the way the stories in the book shared certain images and themes, but with different accents and inflections.

Role Model by Rachel Reid: So…I reread the Game Changers series right before the show came out, which was fun! Ultimately, I liked this one the most of the original series—I really enjoy both Troy and Harris, and their relationship. Hoping we get a glimpse in season 2! (My other favorites from Reid are The Long Game and Time to Shine.)

Plants Have So Much to Give Us, All We Have to Do is Ask by Mary Siisip Geniusz: I think I've mentioned that I've been doing a project this year of reading nature books. This was book 11/12, and one of my favorites for the whole year. I listened to the audiobook, read by Wendy Makoons Geniusz, the author's daughter and editor. It has a rich mixture of personal history, cultural history, and practical information and I felt a/ sense of the generosity of the book in sharing all of this knowledge.

Advent crafts

Every year, I like to do a craft for each week of Advent. This year, I've made three so far, and I'm happy with how they've all turned out. First, a pine swag for the front door, made from branches from our tree. Second, folded tissue paper stars. And finally, a Waldorf-inspired tissue paper transparency, which is brightening up the dining room windows.

Wake Up, Dead Man

We went to see the new Knives Out movie, Wake Up, Dead Man for R's birthday with a group of friends. I loved it a lot—more than I expected, and more than almost any other movie I watched this year. The story and its treatment of belief and doubt touched me deeply as someone who deeply loves a faith that doesn't always feel like it loves me back. I resonate deeply with the strand of belief that Fr. Jud embodies and worry about the strand the Monsignor espouses (both the hatred of the world and the way he makes himself into God).

Ultimately, the moments where the film gives space for both doubt and sincere expression of deep faith were really, really moving and affirming. I didn't expect to start crying over a Benoit Blanc movie, but I sure did! And on a technical level, the use of light and shadow was great. One I definitely want to rewatch to absorb all the little details.

2025 reflections

Oof, 2025 has been a rough one. I made a list of big personal events this year and they included: major difficulties at work for both of us, big and expensive car repairs, worries and emotions about adopton, and the loss of my godfather. And that doesn't include all of the awful, difficult things that happened on a political level around the world.

It's hard; this time of year is one that's now full of grief for me.

At the same time, the list of joyful things I made was longer than the challenges. Time spent with friends and loved ones, visiting museums, enjoying art and music, cultivating the garden and chickens, cheering for my favorite women's hockey teams, building community. Those things don't erase the hard things, but maybe they counterbalance them, giving enough light to keep us going through the dark times.

So, I'm going to close with The Shortest Day by Susan Cooper, a poem written for the Solstice and the coming of light:

So the Shortest Day came and the year died  And everywhere down the centuries of the snow‐white world  Came people singing, dancing, 
To drive the dark away. 

They lighted candles in the winter trees; 
They hung their homes with evergreen; 
They burned beseeching fires all night long 
To keep the year alive. 

And when the new year's sunshine blazed awake 
They shouted, reveling. 
Through all the frosty ages you can hear them 
Echoing behind us ‐ listen! 

All the long echoes, sing the same delight, 
This Shortest Day, 
As promise wakens in the sleeping land: 
They carol, feast, give thanks, 
And dearly love their friends, 
And hope for peace. 

And so do we, here, now, 
This year and every year. 
Welcome Yule! 

Wishing you hope,

Maureen