Book 'Em, Zach-o.

Is it annoying to say I was there first? That I read those gay hockey books before children online started to terrorize the actors on the show? That I sped-read The Long Game so that I could get on with my life knowing whether Shane and Ilya got a happy ending? Well, I did. Not that it mattered once we all became part of the Collective Psychosis that was watching Heated Rivalry together.

Hey, it’s been a while. I took a couple months off from this newsletter mainly because working somewhere at the intersection of queer advocacy and economic stability finally caught up with me, and I need a break from writing anything that wasn’t work. I could get more into the jaded pessimism of this moment and the toll it’s taken o me, but it’s the beginning of a new year, and that’s not something we do.

I watched the PeeWee Herman documentary on HBOMax, or however that channel is identifying today. I certainly do not want to deadname it. The two-part doc was quite excellent, and I assume the platform is airing it as penance for continuing to foist And Just Like That upon us.

If you’re like me, you can’t figure out how to keep the current events notifications from flooding your phone screen, so I don’t need to tell you what’s going on in the world. Most of what’s happening, none of it good, I mainly find out against my will. So as we experience escalating daily unchecked horrors and more emails from the opposition party telling me, “We need to talk,” I’ve been more in need of comfort watches than usual. And I’ve noticed a pattern.

It’s the eve of Pride, and I’m thrilled to wish a Not Happy Pride to the following individuals and entities. Almost always at the top of the list these days is the dreaded Voldemort of authors, JK Rowling.

I write to you with a renewed appreciation - nay, enthusiasm - for oxygen after a trip to Peru. After spending a couple of days on the Pacific Coast of South America in Lima, a wonderful city if you love ceviche, roast chicken, and lots of traffic, we made our way to the Andes Mountains. We had decided a couple of months ago that if we wanted to ever see Machu Picchu, we better do it soon for the sake of 1. the earth and 2. our knees.

In my last newsletter, which was far too long ago, I talked about how everything is awful. So, as a corrective measure, I’m going to try to drop a couple of things that have been giving me comfort and joy (comfort and joy.) Which, by the way, we are allowed to have. Obviously, it should go without saying that if you’re here and reading this that reading brings us all pleasure in bleak times. But what else? Crochet.

Editor’s note: I’ve tried to complete and send this newsletter episode about 10 times off and on over the last couple of weeks, but I’ve been so depressed about the new state of the world and overwhelmed by my own work in it that I haven’t been successful until right about now. So, sorry about that! I started this newsletter as a way to bring some order to my reading and create some sporadic, lighthearted joy around book recommendations.

Before we are blessedly inundated with lists of books to look forward to in 2025, I wanted to provide you with my favorite reads of 2024. What makes a favorite? Just as when Associate Justice of the Supreme Court looked at prurient materials and rendered whether qualified as pornography, I know them when I see them. Some tell-tale signs of a favorite read include: I would rather pick it up than put it down. It makes me think critically about life without seeming like homework.