When this 2019 novella arrived in my mailbox, I didn’t know what to make of the boisterous title and cover. I ignored the temptation to research before diving in, though; a friend’s recommendation was more than enough to get me reading. The novella rewarded that curiosity by slowly and skillfully revealing its fanciful premise. The heavily impressionistic tone allows the characters to speak freely (even brazenly) of their inhuman cultures, godlike abilities, and fantastical surroundings, all while sidestepping the task of explaining the impossible.

I remember the outpouring of grief over the 2015 death of Satoru Iwata, former CEO of Nintendo–so many touching homages to the man’s iconic work and public persona. When I learned that his writings had been collected and translated to English (by an old friend, no less), the book shot to the top of my reading list. I didn’t even bother to learn the premise. This isn’t a book about Nintendo (though it includes some anecdotes) nor is it a book about management (though it includes some advice).

Trying out a different format from Januaries gone by. Books Albums NPR’s Tiny Desk Videos Articles Books Image: Penguin Random House Highlight: Rough Sleepers by Tracy Kidder My thoughts here Honorable mentions: What We Build with Power by David Delmar Sentíes The Internet Con by Cory Doctorow My thoughts here Disappointment: (none) New to me: John Adams by David McCullough My thoughts here Albums Image: Diamante Eléctrico Highlight: Leche de Tigre by Diamante Eléctrico Honorable mentions: Diagnosis by Sen Morimoto Currents (Instrumentals) by Jose Docen Disappointment: Memento Mori by Depeche Mode What would happen if a 40-year-old rock band tried to emulate a 30-year-old rock band?

Alan Wake is one of a few titles whose seemingly-universal acclaim left an impression on me that survived an entire decade without gaming. Like Mirror’s Edge, I knew only just enough to sustain a hazy, idealized anticipation. “I’m going to love that some day,” my subconscious predicted, “whatever it is.” Having just completed the game along with its two “special features” and subsequent spin-off, I’m satisfied to find my hunch was correct, though I’m also surprised by how flawed the works are.

Modern crime TV shows like The Ozarks and Animal Kingdom always get under my skin. It’s been hard to reconcile that aversion with my appreciation for classic noir–how is it that I enjoy the dark, violent, and even cynical aspects in some works but not others? The Fade Out has an answer. Brubaker and Phillips bring many of the elements which keep Criminal and Incognito on my bookshelf after every cull.

I forgot a lot during the decade that I wasn’t watching anime. Naoki Urasawa’s Monster reminded me of the emotional heights that Japanese animation can reach. A few months later, 2021’s Belle reminded me that it doesn’t necessarily take some 24 hours of storytelling to get there. 2017’s Erased1 reminded me that not every series has such lofty goals, and it taught me that my interests have changed. These days, I’m less excited by sci-fi gimmicks and more interested in artistic range and emotional depth.

The Internet Con is a book about subverting corporate overreach. More practically speaking, it’s about standards and interoperability, but even I recognize that you can’t lead with that. Whether author Cory Doctorow uses the term “adversarial interoperability” or “competitive compatibility,” he’s describing a set of practices which would deny private firms the technological advantage they currently enjoy over the rest of us. Doctorow writes with relatable explanations, plentiful anecdotes, and approachable prose, doing justice to a cause that’s near-and-dear to my heart.

Crestfallen over the passing of Dr. Paul Farmer, I asked my physician for any professional anecdotes about the man. She had only limited personal experience to speak to, so she instead prescribed the biography of Jim O’Connell, another hero of hers. O’Connell bears a striking resemblance to Farmer in both his career and demeanor. Both Boston-based medical doctors, they found their calling for service to marginalized groups, starting a program from scratch and even fighting some of the same ailments (namely multidrug-resistant tuberculosis).

If “God is Change,” as the fictitious religion of Earthseed intones, then Parable of the Talents is a divine sequel. Its evolution is more drastic even that of The Fall of Hyperion (now, only the second-most distinctive sequel I’ve ever read). From the very first page, it’s clear that at least the narrative context is more complex. The same woman’s journal entries tell both stories, but where Parable of the Sower is presented simply as her diary, Talents introduces a new character who curates the subsequent entries, inserts writing from others, and provides commentary of her own.

I really wanted to like Twelve Minutes. As a genre, the point-and-click adventure is near-and-dear to my heart, and the game’s “Groundhog Day”-inspired story adds some novelty (like a time limit and a protagonist with a persistent memory). The stakes were higher than my increasingly-routine “grown up gamer” diversions because my Mom was playing alongside me; I don’t mind slogging through the occasional dud on my own, but it’s harder to admit that you’ve invited someone to a lackluster party.