So, I have this newsletter that I'm sending out. It fills me with shame, but what are you going to do? Here is the latest utterance. If you want to get them fresh out of the hopper, just let me know by emailing me at AskTheArmadillo@ proton.me
Hi,
everybody –
How are
you all holding up? It seems like a lot of us are trying to balance being at
least minimally well-informed about the horrors that our governments are
committing in our names and not becoming so overwhelmed by our grief and our
rage that we can’t function. It’s a hard tightrope to walk sometimes.
And
escaping into a good book for a while can provide much needed rest and
reinvigoration. Literature can change us as we read it and can become a part of
who we are. So when The Guardian published a list of “The 100 Best
Novels of All Time” two weeks ago, it is not surprising that it became a viral
hit, with people flooding the electronic waves to agree, disagree, discuss,
poke fun at, and in general do all the entertaining things that people do from
the quiet and anonymity of their own couch. The link to the list is here:
https://www.theguardian.com/books/ng-interactive/2026/may/12/the-100-best-novels-of-all-time?lid=9v1n4cszeo8g
But for
me, the question of “best book” is like the question of favorite color or
favorite song. Favorite for what purpose? The song that I want to hear when
it’s 2 a.m. and I’m missing people long gone is very different from the song
that I want to hear when I’m cooking dinner (if we do, in fact, want to be able
to eat the dinner at some point) or when I’m out dancing.*
So the
idea of “best,” for me at least, begs the question “best for what?”
It
seems to me that in these days of grief and rage, we have certain needs that
certain books may address and that others, no matter their individual merit,
may not be suited for. The number one book on The Guardian list (spoiler
alert!) is George Eliot’s Middlemarch.
I love Middlemarch.
It is one of my favorite books and George Eliot is one of my favorite authors.
But Middlemarch, which may for all I know indeed be the best novel ever
written, is not the book that I myself need in these days.
So I
have made my own list:
The Twelve Best Books for 2026 (And May
God Have Mercy on Our Souls)
Number 12:
The Once and Future King by T.H. White
From
the back cover: “The magical epic of King Arthur and his shining Camelot; of
Merlyn and Owl and Guinevere; of beasts who talk and men who fly; of wizardry
and war. It is the book of all things lost and wonderful and sad.”
Why I
chose it: It’s good to think about leaders who have honor and of ideas of
honesty and decency among the powerful. It’s good to think about what really
makes a hero.
Important
line: “[Arthur] was only a simple and affectionate man, because Merlin had
believed that love and simplicity were worth having.”
Number 11:
Frankenstein by Mary Shelley
From
the inside flap: “A dark Faustian parable of science misused.”
Why I
chose it: The Creature, in all his humanity, reminds us that we are all born
with the capacity for great good and that it is circumstances and the cruelty
of others that can make us into not what we want to be, but what we ourselves
are sorrowful to see.
Important
line: “For a long time I could not conceive how one man could go forth to
murder his fellow, or even why there were laws and governments; but when I
heard details of vice and bloodshed, my wonder ceased, and I turned away with
disgust and loathing.”
Number 10:
The Inimitable Jeeves by P.G. Wodehouse
From
the back cover: “In a series of brilliantly plotted episodes, Bertie and Jeeves
help Bingo Little with his love life.”
Why I
chose it: Technically, this isn’t a novel, but a set of connected short
stories. But I don’t care. Sometimes, we just need some joy. As Christopher
Buckley said, “It is impossible to be unhappy while readings the adventures of
Jeeves and Wooster. And I’ve tried.”
Important
line: “‘My God, man!’ I gargled. ‘The cravat! The gent’s neckwear! Why? For
what reason?’”
Number 9:
Wind, Sand, and Stars by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry
From
the back cover: “The exciting realism of air adventure… combined with lyrical
prose and the soaring spirit of a philosopher, makes these memoirs one of the
most popular books about flying ever written.”
Why I
chose it: Again, not a novel. Again, I don’t care. A memoir about the author’s
days as a pilot flying the mails in the earliest days of commercial aviation, this
is a book about people who do things well – with bravery and with care. In our
world of AI slop and fake-it-til-you-make-it, it is important to celebrate,
with gorgeous prose if possible, people who never took a short cut, but did
their very best, without fanfare, even when no one was looking.
Important
three paragraphs: “I remember, once, a homecoming of Bury, he who was later to
die in a spur of the Pyrenees. He came into the restaurant, sat down at the
common table, and went stolidly at his food, shoulders still bowed by the
fatigue of his recent trial. It was at the end of one of those foul days when
from end to end of the line the skies are filled with dirty weather, when the
mountains seem to a pilot to be wallowing in slime like exploded cannon on the
decks of an antique man-o’-war.
“I
stared at Bury, swallowed my saliva, and ventured after a bit to ask if he had
had a hard flight. Bury, bent over his plate in frowning absorption, could not
hear me. In those days we flew open ships and thrust our heads out round the
windshield, in bad weather, to take our bearings: the wind that whistled in our
ears was a long time clearing out of our heads. Finally Bury looked up, seemed
to understand me, to think back to what I was referring to, and suddenly he
gave a bright laugh. This brief burst of laughter, from a man who laughed
little, startled me.
“For a
moment his weary being was bright with it. But he spoke no word, lowered his
head, and went on chewing in silence. And in that dismal restaurant, surrounded
by the simple government clerks who sat there repairing the wear and tear of
their humble daily tasks, my broad-shouldered messmate seemed to me strangely
noble; beneath his rough hide I could discern the angel who had vanquished the
dragon.”
Number 8:
Goodbye to Berlin by Christopher Isherwood (usually published these days along with The
Last of Mr. Norris in one volume under the combined title of The Berlin
Stories)
From
the back cover: “A charming city of avenues and cafes, a grotesque city of
night-people and fantasts, a dangerous city of vice and intrigue, a powerful
city of millionaires and mobs – all this was Berlin in 1931, the period when
Hitler was beginning his move to power. … It is art alone, the art of an
extremely gifted writer like Isherwood, which makes these often comic episodes
tell us truth about the tragedy of Germany which cannot be found in any history
book.”
Why I
chose it: It is good to remember that we have been here before.
Important
line: “Eventually, we’re all queer.”
Number 7:
The Myth of Sisyphus and Other Essays by Albert Camus
From
the back cover: “With lyric eloquence, Albert Camus brilliantly posits a way
out of despair, reaffirming the value of personal existence, and the
possibility of life lived with dignity and authenticity.”
Why I
chose it: I swear that most of these books are, in fact, novels. But not this
one. Again. But the six pages of Camus’s short essay “The Myth of Sisyphus” can
save us from our own despair.
Important
line: “There is no sun without shadow, and it is essential to know the night.”
Number 6:
Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston
From
the back cover: “Their Eyes Were Watching God is a celebration of black
folk culture, of love between equals, of a woman’s self-discovery.”
Why a
chose it: It’s important to remember the small victories of our lives –
victories of managing, in spite of everything thrown at us by the world at
large, to find ourselves and to know ourselves.
Important
paragraph: “Now, women forget all those things they don’t want to remember, and
remember everything they don’t want to forget. The dream is the truth. Then
they act and do things accordingly.”
Number 5:
The Animal Family by Randall Jarrell
From
the back cover: “This is the story of how, one by one, a man found himself a
family. Almost nowhere in fiction is there a stranger, dearer, or funnier
family – and the life that the member of The Animal Family live together, there
in the wilderness beside the sea, is as extraordinary and as enchanting as the
family itself.”
Why I
chose it: For all of us strange outcasts out there, alone and different, it is
good to know that love can make a family, and that we can always be our true,
wild selves with people who love us.
Important
line: “The hunter and the mermaid were so different from each other that it
seemed to them, finally, that they were exactly alike; and they lived together
and were happy.”
Number 4:
The Story of Ferdinand by Munro Leaf
From
the inside flap: “In Spain lives a big and strong bull whose name is Ferdinand.
Unlike the other young bulls, Ferdinand does not like to fight. He would rather
sit in the shade of his favorite cork tree and smell the flowers.”
Why I
chose it: Is it a children’s book or a metaphor for the power of peaceful passive
resistance and the story of a very effective sit-in? Maybe we should all be
like Ferdinand and refuse to comply with cruelty and violence and warfare.
Important
line: “His mother saw that he was not lonesome, and because she was an
understanding mother, even though she was a cow, she let him just sit the and
be happy.”
Number 3:
The Scarlett Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne
From
the inside flap: “Hawthorne’s great
Puritan novel of sin and regeneration observes the consequences of adultery for
three people of superior consciences: a passionate young woman, Hester Prynne;
the father of her child, Arthur Dimmesdale; and her aging husband, Roger
Chillingworth. Each has been marked by sin in a different way. Hester, publicly
confessed and shamed, is spiritually ennobled. Dimmesdale, too weak to reveal
himself, is ravaged with self-torment. And Chillingworth, wronged and secretly
dedicated to vengeance, is transformed into a monstrous being.””
Why I
chose it: Although being force-marched through this book in high school English
classes (when, frankly, none of us has had enough life experience to even begin
to understand what this book is about), nearly ruined this book for me, now
that I’m older and have more life behind me, I understand Hester Prynne as one
of the most powerful female figures in American literature. In these days of
attacks on female bodily autonomy, it’s good to remember that Hester, not the
feckless Dimmesdale or the malevolent Chillingworth, is the one who ultimately
triumphs.
Important
line: “And, once, Hester was seen embroidering a baby-garment, with such lavish
richness of golden fancy as would have raised a public tumult, had any infant,
thus apparelled, have been shown to our sober-hued community.”
Number 2:
Silas Marner by George Eliot (Mary Ann Evans)
From
the inside flap: “When his precious money is stolen and, shortly after,
seemingly and mysteriously replaced by the child Eppie, Silas is awakened to
life by the redemptive power of love.”
Why I
chose it: Another book foist upon unprepared high school students that rings
much deeper when you’re a bit older. The greedy, deceitful, and cowardly Cass
family don’t get what they want in the end. They find out, indeed, that you
can’t buy real love, no matter how much money you have. A truth that lives
through the centuries.
Important
line: “‘I can’t feel as I’ve got any father but one,’ said Eppie, impetuously,
while the tears gathered. ‘I’ve always thought of a little home where he’d sit
i’ the corner, and I should fend and do everything for him: I can’t think o’ no
other home.’”
Number 1:
The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry
From
the back cover: “There are a few stories that in some way, in some degree,
change the world forever for their readers. This is one.”
Why I
chose it: It is an antidote for everything wrong with this moment in time.
That’s all.
Important
line: “It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is
invisible to the eye.”
So
that’s it – my own little list of books that might help in this moment. You
probably have others. Send along suggestions for additions to the list to AskTheArmadillo@proton.me and I will include them in
future newsletters as a way of helping each other make it through these rough
times. They won’t last forever. And the first person to send me a suggested
book to add to the list will get a lovely Ask The Armadillo t-shirt. Suzanne
already got hers and sent a picture of herself wearing it. She looked beautiful
– but that might be more about her soul than her clothing, as is often the
case.
Take
care everyone.
Love,
Kathy
* There
was a place on the road in Rarotonga where, driving along in our car
twenty-five years ago now, we would come out of a patch of cool seashore forest
and the wide sweep of the bay would open out in front of us, a thousand shades
of fractured blues and greens, like the pieces of a constantly shifting
kaleidoscope, appearing and disappearing endlessly into pure light, while my
sons, aged seven and four then, chatted to me and to each other in the back
seat, and the road unspooled in front of us going nowhere, and at night we all
slept in our one airy room in Emily’s house and the boys held hands in their
sleep and the palm trees made their curious rattling sound and the ghosts of
Emily’s ancestors watched over us and kept us safe. So I guess that is my
favorite color. But whenever I’m buying shoes, I always find myself drawn to
red.
