Reviewed by Lauren Hayataka

A moving transformation of silence into memory and art

“How can I make sense of my early life, a time of turmoil that I often feel but don’t clearly remember?”

So begins Debbi Flittner’s The Ten Thousand Things, a deeply felt memoir that traces the fissures of family, silence, and belonging across generations. It lingers in fragments—half-remembered moments, desert storms, the hush of a house where love was always just out of reach—and yet together, those fragments form something whole and unforgettable.

This memoir is Flittner’s lifelong attempt to understand her mother, a woman described as “elusive, unnerving,” who rarely spoke and never offered the certainty of affection her daughters craved. As a child, Flittner endured neglect, abuse from an older sister, and a father whose anger simmered over, all while her mother turned away.

Silence becomes the refrain of her early years: a missing comfort, a missing response, a missing steadiness. And yet, in the vast, red rock desert of the Colorado Plateau, she found a kind of companionship. Lizards, sagebrush, and sandstone became her refuge, a parallel world where the rules were clear and she could be both wild and safe.

What elevates The Ten Thousand Things is the lyricism of its prose. Flittner writes with the precision of someone who has carried these memories for decades, shaping them into vivid, almost cinematic scenes: hiding beneath plastic during a sudden storm, watching rain blur the world into a secret cave; lying in the plastic-covered back seat of the family’s Buick as the desert slid past; screaming for help in a kitchen where no one came. Even as an adult, she recalls the “coyote trickster” who stole her courage every time she crossed her mother’s threshold, a terribly fitting metaphor for the silence that bound them.

As she grows older, Flittner both follows and resists the patterns of her family. She marries young and becomes a mother early, yet she also steps onto a different path—pursuing higher education, the first in her family to attend law school. She raises her daughter while balancing classes and work, determined to offer choices she herself never had. Later, her search takes her further still, into spiritual practice—studying Tibetan Buddhism and Advaita Vedanta, traveling through Tibet and Nepal, discovering moments of Oneness that begin to soften the old ache.

Flittner writes movingly of her attempts to bridge that silence in adulthood. Visits to her mother’s home bring fleeting moments of warmth—a smile when the car pulls up, a brief embrace, a short-lived conversation—before the old patterns reassert themselves. Even in the final months of her mother’s life, when dementia strips away some of her defenses, Flittner remains suspended between longing and acceptance.

Yet, Flittner does not reduce her mother to a single role or judgment; instead, she allows space for contradiction. Her mother was both absent and proud, both neglectful and shaped by her own wounds—poverty, abandonment, disfigured feet from shoes too small in childhood, outstanding service in the Navy during World War II. Flittner doesn’t write to solve her mother but to live honestly within the myriad of questions she left behind.

In doing so, the book also becomes an exploration of inheritance. Pain, silence, and resilience are passed down through generations, shaping daughters as much as love or guidance might. Flittner acknowledges this with striking clarity: we transmit our fortunes and our misfortunes through what we say and through what we leave unsaid.

The Ten Thousand Things is not a memoir of despair but of transformation. Flittner’s voice is lyrical without ever losing its honesty, capable of holding both the beauty of desert light at dusk and the ache of unanswered questions. By the book’s end, what remains is not a single revelation about her mother but something larger: an understanding that silence, too, shapes us, and that even in absence, there can be meaning. It is a radiant, unforgettable memoir—one that transforms longing into art.

Thank you for reading Lauren Hayataka’s book review of The Ten Thousand Things by Debbi Flittner! If you liked what you read, please spend some more time with us at the links below.

The post STARRED Book Review: The Ten Thousand Things appeared first on Independent Book Review.

Reviewed by Elizabeth Reiser

An inspirational memoir about a health scare that sparks major change

Ray Walker was no stranger to weight loss gimmicks and fad diets; she had tried them all. She was even featured as a success story in a magazine about weight loss. But she later settled into a sense of ambivalence.

Instead of dieting, her brain went on autopilot, and she indulged in processed foods with abandon. She gained back all the weight, plus an additional ten pounds. She came to terms with what she thought would be the rest of her life: overweight but happy, eating processed foods, and taking medications to help with any ailments. Then a health crisis changed everything.

Her kidney almost quit.

After a painful stretch followed by lifesaving surgery, Walker realized she would have to reevaluate her relationship with her health. This was not about the number on the scale or the size of her jeans; it was about listening to her body and making changes to better her well-being.

The second half of the book sees Walker fusing her personal story with self-help guidance. It’s as much a story about her as it is about you. Maybe it is time to improve your relationship with your body.

Starting with asking readers to discover their reason why, like wanting to keep up with their kids, Walker prompts readers to fill out a worksheet to uncover patterns and actionable ways to be healthier. It is a thorough worksheet, and readers who find journaling helpful to their process will like this aspect.

Walker raises compelling arguments throughout the book regarding how we sabotage ourselves on our health journeys and how we can stop. The mind as a bully is one particularly persuasive concept she focuses on, discussing examples of this and how the negative voice can be quieted. Instructions on breath-work and meditation are some of the helpful tools she provides.

In addition to including worksheets and coping tools, Walker shares her struggles with food addiction, leading her into a discussion and instruction on food detox. Her weight loss of 140 pounds is impressive, and she poses insightful questions to help readers determine their own path to a healthy lifestyle. It should be noted that Walker is not a doctor or a nutritionist, and the perspective on detoxing may cause some emotional pain to readers who are suffering from disordered eating.

Walker’s honesty and conversational writing style on this relatable topic make this memoir a well-worthy read. Anyone looking to improve their relationship with their body and their mind could use this as a guide for their journey to improvement.

Thank you for reading Elizabeth Reiser’s book review of The Awakened Body by Ray Walker! If you liked what you read, please spend some more time with us at the links below.

The post Book Review: The Awakened Body appeared first on Independent Book Review.

Reviewed by Warren Maxwell

Hilarious, warmhearted, bite-sized stories of a cult softball team from West Virginia

“There can’t be too many people in this world who had more fun than we did tonight. And we got slaughtered in two softball games.”

Since 1998, a Bad News Bears-inspired softball team has been tearing up the fields of Morgantown, West Virginia. They’ve built a reputation around losing far more games than they win and having more fun than the winners—or anybody else for that matter. Dressed in “county orange” and white uniforms—as in “When I appeared before the judge, I was in my county orange”—Chico’s Bail Bonds have made a tradition out of playing chaotic, occasionally drunk softball, celebrating wins and losses alike at the 123 Pleasant Street bar, recounting the stories together, and then creating literary records of the events.

These records are mashups of familiar yet disparate genres. There’s a dash of the tall tale, the frenzied sports announcer, and the romantic writer who can memorialize the most insignificant moments, lift up failure, laugh at it, and love it. Sometimes Orange Is Almost Gold gathers hundreds of post-game write ups, stretching from 1998 to 2025, along with photos across the decades, stats, and pop out highlights of team members past and present.

“Anybody who has seen Porterfield in a pair of shorts will know that he has only two muscles in his legs. He pulled both of them.'”

I’ve never read a book quite like this one. It has charm, wit, adventure, and a strange anthropologic intrigue. It is a record of a unique kind of community, one that centers around sports yet values friendship and joy above anything as commonplace and shallow as winning. Even without any first-hand knowledge of Chico’s Bail Bonds or the many players who’ve filled its ranks, it’s difficult not to get swept up in the mythology of this rambunctious team.

Whether describing a disastrous loss (“Chico’s were dominated, humiliated, spit on, cummed on, and overmatched against a young and rejuvenated, hard charging Mega Corp, losing 19-1 in game 1 and 18-3 in game 2, goddamn!”) or memorializing team members who’ve passed away, there’s a special beauty to this book that comes from a sheer of-the-moment authenticity.

As is abundantly clear from the photographs included, nothing is hidden in this story of a multi-decade running softball institution. Here we see men of all ages playing amateur softball, cheering one another on, drinking, getting hurt, mostly losing, and absolutely loving it.

“Weak bats, tired legs, and empty souls. Chico’s Bail Bonds, the world’s most lovable softball team, shit the bed in the most lackluster of early season performances ever.”

The book’s layout, an explosive array of photos of all shapes and sizes clustered on pages alongside ever-expanding paragraph-long game summaries, grabs the eye and invites readers to bounce from story to story without necessarily following the linear chronology. Although years are organized together and each game is given at least a few sentences of description, the book exudes a rules-be-damned attitude that emphasizes fun over any specific method for reading.

At the end of the day, this book is a record, an archive of all the games and all the stories (excluding the Lost Years of 2003-2006 that may or may not have fallen victim to faulty storage), all the Chico’s inspired memorabilia and outrageous outfits, and all the “bonds” that were formed over twenty seven years. In that respect, it far surpasses its intended purpose—this is a hyper-local book that inspires, that makes you wish you were on that softball team.

Sometimes Orange is Almost Gold tells decades of comedic, full-hearted post-game stories about an unforgettable amateur softball squad.

Thank you for reading Warren Maxwell’s book review of Sometimes Orange Is Almost Gold by Jim Antonini and Suzanne Reynolds! If you liked what you read, please spend some more time with us at the links below.

The post STARRED Book Review: Sometimes Orange Is Almost Gold appeared first on Independent Book Review.

Reviewed by Erin Britton

An innovative and informative approach to overall health and well-being

Dr. Sherry McAllister’s Adjusted Reality promotes a holistic perspective that views each person as a whole being. It encourages them to move beyond the medicalized model of healthcare, recognizing the broader causes of malaise rather than just the symptoms. This represents a marked change from established practice, especially in the United States, “a departure from the pill-for-every-ill doctrine toward a nurturing philosophy change.”

To set the scene for why change is needed, McAllister offers a balanced, eye-opening critique of the current state of healthcare, focusing on the situation in the United States but applicable elsewhere too. Among the insightful and sometimes startling facts and figures she presents, perhaps the most surprising pertain to the pervasive presence of the pharmaceutical industry in both healthcare and media settings: “To wit, in 2024, the pharmaceutical industry in the United States spent over $19 billion on digital drug advertising, with the US and New Zealand standing alone as the only countries worldwide allowing advertising of pharmaceutical drugs on mainstream media.”

Yet despite the unprecedented availability of information on medication choices—to say nothing of the relative ease of access to the drugs themselves—the population only seems to be becoming sicker, physically and mentally. Whether due to the focus on expertise creating knowledge silos or the limited time allocated for each patient being insufficient for the physician to determine the root cause(s) of their issue, something has gone very wrong.

Building on this observation, McAllister emphasizes the importance of the “whole-being” system, which relies on balance and harmony. In essence, every individual functions through the complex interplay of direct and indirect physiological processes, all tailored to the relevant context and environment. Rather than resorting to a pill, ensuring the alignment of these processes will promote good health.

Movement is vital and the key is “keeping a balance of what the body needs and what the brain desires.” McAllister provides a distilled version of the theory behind her approach and complements it with practical exercises that can be applied by individuals of all health levels, although Adjusted Reality will particularly appeal to those seeking to improve their well-being after being failed by their regular doctors.

As McAllister is a chiropractor by trade, much of her conception of a more rounded approach to health is based on chiropractic aspects, such as the Visionary Six, principles said to differentiate chiropractic from other medical disciplines. Noting that chiropractors have historically been unfairly maligned as “quackypractors,” including by the American Medical Association, she offers a firm defense of her profession: “Why did chiropractic discrimination matter? In short, it fragmented the healthcare system, leaving patients with a conflict of choice and cohesion of whole-being. Confused and disenchanted by not knowing if there was a possibility to heal without a pill, they saw only one option.”

While scare stories still abound regarding chiropractic treatments gone wrong, meaning that the work of chiropractors is not viewed as entirely uncontroversial, McAllister explains both the theory and practice clearly and straightforwardly, dispelling many of the rumors and false assumptions. It’s unlikely that every reader will be inspired to try chiropractic treatment, but many certainly will, hopefully leading to improved health.

In addition to the practicalities of chiropractic, through real-world examples of friends and patients, McAllister illustrates what else is needed to nurture the “whole-being,” including sleep, nourishment, and exercise. In so doing, she provides plenty of actionable insights (sometimes accompanied by QR codes linking to relevant episodes of the Adjusted Reality podcast) to assist and motivate readers on their journey to improved wellness.

From achieving contentment to recognizing the need for regular revitalization, the tips and recommendations in Adjusted Reality serve to augment—if not necessarily replace—the health benefits derived from conventional medicine, including pharmaceuticals. McAllister’s focus on the often-overlooked balance between body and mind is sound, and the reasoning behind her holistic approach to health is logical and convincing.

Thank you for reading Erin Britton’s book review of Adjusted Reality by Sherry McAllister! If you liked what you read, please spend some more time with us at the links below.

The post Book Review: Adjusted Reality by Sherry McAllister appeared first on Independent Book Review.

Reviewed by Melissa Suggitt

A daughter’s grief, a mother’s fading memory, and a chorus of teddy bears that refuse to let the silence win – If I Could Remember is as heartbreaking as it is unexpectedly tender.

Donna Costa’s If I Could Remember is the kind of memoir that doesn’t just open a window into one family’s struggle with Alzheimer’s—it rips the curtains down, lets the cold air in, and forces you to sit in it. It is at once brutal and tender, blending memoir, fable, and medical fact into a tapestry that feels both unflinchingly real and strangely magical.

The book begins with diagnosis, a moment rendered with the rawness of a battlefield. Costa’s mother sits in a sterile room, subjected to the indignities of the Montreal Cognitive Assessment. When told she can no longer drive, her grief is immediate, visceral: “Please, please, don’t take my license! Not that!” The plea isn’t about a car; it’s about independence, dignity, and the right to exist on one’s own terms. In passages like these, Costa captures how loss arrives in increments, each one as devastating as the last.

But this isn’t just a medical memoir. It’s also a book where teddy bears come alive, carrying the weight of metaphor and memory. Her mother, a prolific bear-maker, left behind hundreds of handmade teddies, each stitched with care. In Costa’s hands, they become companions and narrators, voices in the dark when the human ones falter. They bicker, console, and even confront Alzheimer’s themselves. In one whimsical yet piercing exchange, when a bear struggles to recall the past, another responds simply: “If I could remember, I would.” That refrain becomes the book’s heartbeat. Childlike in its phrasing, but devastating in what it suggests about memory’s fragility.

Woven among these intimate vignettes are passages of research and cultural reflection. Costa details the science of neurons and tangles, the statistics of diagnosis, and the stigma faced by both patients and caregivers. Yet she balances the clinical with the lyrical, moving seamlessly from “amyloid plaques” to a story of her Polish grandmother bootlegging whiskey with bottles strapped to her legs. The juxtaposition works because Costa understands that identity—personal, familial, cultural—is never just one thing.

The writing itself is sharp-edged but warm. Costa does not smooth over the humiliation, the anger, or the expletives that slip from her mother’s lips in moments of fury. She honors those moments not to shock but to show the truth of decline, dignity tangled with rage, lucidity with confusion.

Readers are steeped in both heartbreak and resilience. We sit at the kitchen table when her mother forgets to set a place for her daughter. We meet Charlie and Harry, teddy bears whose friendship is tested by memory loss. We feel the cultural dissonance of heritage half-claimed, half-denied. Costa doesn’t give us a linear arc so much as a kaleidoscope of fragments, reflecting the way memory itself splinters.

If I Could Remember is ultimately about how we hold onto love when memory fails us. It is about daughters carrying their mothers, bears carrying their makers, and words carrying what can no longer be spoken. To read it is to be both gutted and comforted, to laugh through tears, and to feel deep in your bones the urgency of remembering while we still can.

Thank you for reading Melissa Suggitt’s book review of If I Could Remember by Donna Costa! If you liked what you read, please spend some more time with us at the links below.

The post Book Review: If I Could Remember by Donna Costa appeared first on Independent Book Review.

Reviewed by Amy Brozio-Andrews

An enriching guide to self-reflection using tools developed by a trauma therapist who understands firsthand how devastating brokenness feels

Whether you consciously struggle to show up for the people you love and manage the slings and arrows that have come your way in life or you just have a vague feeling that life could be “better,” You Are Not Broken is an invitation to reorient how you connect with your inner world.

Author and expert Melinda Zappone assures us we all feel broken, even if we do a pretty good job of hiding it. But we don’t need to live that way. More importantly, she offers a path forward, one that affirms there are a lot of valid reasons why we do the things we do. We are not truly “broken” people, we want to avoid the emotional wounds that make us uncomfortable, like shame, fear or anger. Recognizing what triggers these discomforts and how we “got this way” allows us to step into our authentic selves and learn how to act instead of react in our relationships and make them more satisfying for both sides.

Deep self-examination can feel big and scary, but Zappone offers methods and strategies in her Toolbox Approach to healing to show that she’s truly been there and used them too.

Zappone identifies three phases of healing: narrative, reprocessing, and relational. This book helps readers establish a framework for self-assessment and next steps. Using examples from her own healing journey and those of others who have had their stories combine and identifying details changed, Zappone outlines and explores narrative healing tools through guided activities, including diagrams, lists of questions, and worksheets.

The writing can feel dense and thick at times if you’re not already familiar with the terms and concepts discussed, such as attachment injury, childhood wounds, parts work, Internal Family Systems, shadow work, and the Enneagram. Zappone is at her best when going through the mechanics of the tools and how they offer a chance to reconnect with your self.

Readers who are serious about self-improvement may experience some emotional heaviness while navigating some chapters and exercises. Reflecting on the lessons learned in your childhood family dynamic, how certain events influenced your beliefs about yourself, and how those lessons and beliefs affect your current relationships and decision-making can be fraught with doubt, shame, and grief.

Fortunately, Zappone’s tone and approach are consistently supportive. She encourages readers to work at their own pace and seek out additional support where needed, including through her other articles, course, and related offerings for those who want to continue their self-directed journey with her guidance.

Zappone is a worthy tour guide into the world of self-help. She is clearly caring, compassionate, and committed to helping others make meaningful progress in achieving their best lives.

Whether you use this book to begin your path to better mental and emotional clarity or you’ve already committed to this work and want to dig deeper on your own, You Are Not Broken gives you trustworthy practices for growth.

Thank you for reading Amy Brozio-Andrews’s book review of You Are Not Broken by Melinda Zappone! If you liked what you read, please spend some more time with us at the links below.

The post Book Review: You Are Not Broken by Melinda Zappone appeared first on Independent Book Review.

Reviewed by Erin Britton

A globe-trotting quest to find purpose and heal spiritual wounds

Part memoir, part travelogue, and part spiritual self-help guide, Whitney Joy’s Seven Blank Pages chronicles the author’s journey—both literal and metaphorical—from the depths of despair and disaster to the highs of self-acceptance and understanding. Through her story, Joy offers inspiration to others seeking to rescue themselves via exploration and discovery.

Joy’s unexpected adventure begins with a fractured and sprained ankle, which is acquired while descending La Plata Peak in Colorado’s Sawatch Range. Despite a lifetime of adventure sports and athletic endeavors having left her no stranger to physical injuries, this particular mishap has deeply unexpected consequences.

First, there is new tension in an otherwise happy marriage. “Though my husband was always ready with nourishing food and fresh icepacks, he wasn’t exactly thrilled about trading his usual role of patient for that of caregiver.” Joy’s husband, unnamed but still a strong presence in her narrative, is a professional snowboarder while she works in luxury jewelry. “My job financially provided for our life, and his kept us pushing our limits.”

Then there’s the increasingly clear incompatibility between their work schedules and their attitudes to risk. “Despite his quiet protests, my job continued to pull me east to host events, and even after tragic avalanches killed a number of our friends, he still ventured into the backcountry, chasing fresh snow.” As these differences continue to manifest, Joy realizes that she doesn’t want to continue living the same life in the same place forever.

“They say everything you want is on the other side of fear.” In Joy’s case, the first thing on the other side of fear is the dissolution of her marriage. The conflict she feels about this is palpable, and the passages in which she describes how they go about separating their lives are quite moving. Both parties certainly have faults, and Joy adopts a clear-sighted perspective on these aspects.

The split means having to leave her home. And even worse, the day after Joy moves out, her employer decides to restructure and eliminate her role. “The world went into slow motion like one of those action movies in which a bomb detonates or a car plunges underwater.” With no husband, no home, and no job, Joy ponders on what to do next, manically laughing about embarking on a “potential odyssey of self-discovery.”

Experiencing so many major changes in such a short space of time initially leave her bereft: “All my belief systems had been shattered—work hard, trust you are valued, love will prevail. I was confused.” The anger, confusion, and lethargy Joy feels are very relatable emotions, and it’s impossible not to be shocked by what she faces. Fortunately, even in her darkness moments, she retains her “anything is possible” mentality.

Ultimately, Joy decides that the only way to move forward is to travel, as far and wide as possible, aiming to do so until the seven blank pages remaining in her passport are full, and then she will settle in New York and restart her career. It’s a bold decision, and fittingly; the part of Seven Blank Pages that details her travels is more action-packed and compelling than the part establishing what led up to her departure.

Joy’s first port of call is Nice, France, where she notes that “brimming with optimism. I could do anything I wanted.” And what she wants is to thoroughly explore the city and its surroundings, immersing herself in the atmosphere and environment. Joy’s evocative descriptions and enthusiastic recollections really bring her experiences to life, prompting a sense of wanderlust.

From Nice, she continues her delightfully unplanned and unscheduled trip with visits to Cannes (including a high-end sex club), Verbier, Paris, Sicily, Cefalù, and many more places besides. As she travels the world in search of peace, enlightenment, and a spot of romance, Joy vividly describes the people she meets and the sights she sees. Her enthusiasm for the endeavor continues to shine through.

These travelogue aspects of Seven Blank Pages work really well, being simultaneously engaging, surprising, and sometimes, a little troubling. Joy has a good eye for detail and local color, and her bravery and willingness to go with the flow are certainly inspiring. The reproduced dialogue doesn’t always live up to the descriptions and inner monologue, but it does provide interesting perspectives on her encounters and thought processes.

As she travels the world, Joy also pursues a journey of self-actualization. This allows her to expand on her understanding of manifestation, spirit guides, transcendental meditation, the fundamental truths of existence, and other spiritual aspects. This non-material, other-worldly dimension elevates the book beyond being a memoir–travelogue, introducing a self-help aspect that widens its appeal.

Similar to the geographical and historical information provided in Seven Blank Pages, Joy’s discourse on matters of religion and spirituality is not in-depth but it is thought-provoking. The way that she turns the various hardships she experiences into avenues for growth and development is motivating, and her honest account of what she goes through illustrates the power of recovery and reconciliation.

Seven Blank Pages is an energizing account and an inspiring journey in search of the self. The experiences Joy relates are likely to prompt both wanderlust and reflection, and her worldwide bounce-back shows that, with the right mindset, it is possible to accomplish pretty much anything.

Thank you for reading Erin Britton’s book review of Seven Blank Pages by Whitney Joy! If you liked what you read, please spend some more time with us at the links below.

The post Book Review: Seven Blank Pages by Whitney Joy appeared first on Independent Book Review.

Reviewed by Tomi Alo

A valuable, science-based guide to building resilience and making decisions in high-stakes situations

Laurie Bowman helps readers make better, more confident decisions with clarity, even in uncertain and stressful situations, in Dealing with Uncertainty.

This guide digs deep into the mechanics of how our brains work during intense and critical moments and examines how the steps we take in making these decisions matter just as much as the decisions themselves. Whether it’s deciding the budget allocation of a high-end project or simply building a career, the decisions we make affect our lives and the lives of the people around us.

In Dealing with Uncertainty, author Laurie Bowman draws on his years of experience helping governments and organizations across different industries manage risks, deal with uncertain situations, and facilitate change. He frames uncertainty as a tool and opportunity that one should use to gain new perspectives and grow, instead of a threat or an enemy to be defeated. Bowman argues that making good decisions means having a good strategy to navigate uncertain situations with a clear mind, instead of with fear and hesitation.

In seven informative chapters, Bowman balances global leadership stories and the lessons he learned from them with research-backed explanations of the human brain and behavior. There are also reflective exercises and key takeaways to inspire change and drive personal and professional growth.

There are a number of helpful practical strategies included in this book, like PDCA (Plan-Do-Check-Act) for improving decision-making skills and SCARF (Status, Certainty, Autonomy, Relatedness, and Fairness) for understanding how to avoid risks in difficult or uncertain situations. Bowman integrates these strategies with real-life application, especially when reflecting on his own mistakes and what he’d do differently.

Bowman also introduces techniques for mindfulness (such as Dadirri and Shinrin-yok), gratitude, resilience, empathy, and emotional intelligence. This book offers real ways to build stronger connections and relationships, resolve conflicts, and become more confident in handling challenging situations. Your mindset will be stronger after reading this book, I’m sure of it.

Though the book is easy to read, it can be a little overwhelming. Even with the personal anecdotes from Bowman’s career and others, there are a lot of scientific details, frameworks, and in-text references from research studies that make the book feel sometimes more like a textbook than a self-help guide. It takes effort, patience, and willingness to understand the “why” behind the way we approach situations.

Bowman’s wealth of experience in various senior roles and global projects will appeal to professionals, business owners, managers, and team leaders who are looking for an in-depth way to sharpen their decision-making skills. The mix of research, case studies, and personal lessons makes it a useful reference for those who work in high-pressure environments where data isn’t enough to make the decisions.

Dealing with Uncertainty is a scientifically-driven guide that offers the tools, insights, and strategies to navigate uncertainties in our professional and personal lives.

Thank you for reading Tomi Alo’s book review of Dealing with Uncertainty by Laurie Bowman! If you liked what you read, please spend some more time with us at the links below.

The post Book Review: Dealing with Uncertainty by Laurie Bowman appeared first on Independent Book Review.

Reviewed by Gabriella Harrison

In the year the world shut down, one family learned how much could be stolen in a single month.

Elizabeth Jaeger’s Stolen starts as a pandemic diary and becomes something far heavier. The shift happens on Day eight, when her father gets sick. Before that, it’s all Chromebook meltdowns and Taekwondo cancellations—the kind of stuff everyone remembers from early lockdown. After that, it’s a different book entirely.

Jaeger aptly captures the absurd stress of March 2020 in the early pages. There’s her son’s failed Zoom call, the fight over homeschool curriculum, and the universal parental dread of online learning videos. “I hate technology. It is beyond me,” she remarks. The prose is wholly unvarnished. When her kid screams, “You need to help me, and only me!” it feels real and relatable.

Then the virus hits home. Her father’s decline is documented in brutal, ticking-clock detail: the 4:33 AM ambulance call, the ventilator, the hospital transfers. What sticks isn’t the medical jargon but the small horrors, like the FedEx package of his belongings arriving after his death, still packed with the clothes he thought he’d wear home.

Jaeger’s anger is raw and specific. She rages at the celebrity testing scandals (“How rich do you have to be in this country for someone to care about you?”), the funeral delays, even the way her father’s doctor vanishes for two weeks. But the quiet moments cut deeper. Her son making Mickey Mouse pancakes alone or texting his dead grandfather’s iPad is evocative.

The “Snapshot Rewind” sections contrast and complement the hospital updates. One memory of her dad coaching Little League is especially moving when read against his ICU stats. Another, about teaching her son cursive because “civilized people write in cursive,” becomes a eulogy in miniature.

Some entries ramble; others simply express a profound grief. There are occasional instances of repetition, especially when circling her regrets (not hugging him at the hospital, not visiting sooner). But that’s the point. Real grief doesn’t have perfect pacing.

By the end, the book’s title makes terrible sense. COVID stole time, rituals, last words. What’s left is this: a messy, howling thing that refuses to offer comfort or closure.

In Elizabeth Jaeger’s memoir, Stolen, emotions spill over without restraint. At times, the prose is ragged, but that’s part of its power. This isn’t a book about COVID-19 as a historical event; it’s about the human cost of that event, the families shattered in its wake. By the final entry, as she relaxes on the beach with her son, there’s no illusion of returning to what life once was. But in that stillness, there’s a quiet acceptance and the sense that moving forward doesn’t mean forgetting, only learning how to carry what remains.

Elizabeth Jaeger’s Stolen is a heartrending, necessary read. One that provides a poignant account that will resonate with many families who lost loved ones during the COVID-19 pandemic.

Thank you for reading Gabriella Harrison’s book review of Stolen by Elizabeth Jaeger! If you liked what you read, please spend some more time with us at the links below.

The post Book Review: Stolen by Elizabeth Jaeger appeared first on Independent Book Review.

Reviewed by John M. Murray

A warm and anecdote-rich life story that proves a life doesn’t need to be extraordinary to be interesting

You Don’t Have to Be Famous to Write a Memoir is exactly what the title promises: an unpretentious, conversational chronicle of a life stitched together from family lore, classroom stories, and small cultural shocks.

The cast is domestic and affectionate—mother Rose, marimba-playing father David, sister Maureen, brother Jeff, his late wife Neusa, and three children and grandchildren—figures who recur as the book’s emotional anchors.

The memoir is organized into thematic parts—family, first memories, Youngstown and Los Angeles years, California college life, an unexpectedly long career in Brazil, and later chapters in Seattle. Rather than building to a dramatic arc, Silvers offers a series of intimate vignettes: early misadventures, Boy Scout camp episodes, language-blunder classroom scenes in Manaus, and domestic moments that quietly accumulate into a portrait. He leans into casual anecdote and reminiscences, so the book reads like a long, friendly conversation rather than a tightly plotted autobiography.

Silvers’ chief strength is tone. His voice is candid, wry, and lightly self-deprecating; he writes like a genial teacher telling stories at a reunion. Specificity makes scenes sing—David’s glowing marimba mallets, Maureen’s serial hugging and theater anecdotes, and classroom mishaps that reveal both cultural warmth and linguistic embarrassment. The Brazil sections are notable for sensory immediacy (market details, teaching routines, the hum of daily life) that transform long expatriate stretches into small, vivid scenes. The memoir’s accumulation of modest moments creates a cumulative intimacy that feels honest and humane.

The memoir’s strength—its digressive, conversational rhythm—can also be a limitation: readers seeking narrative momentum or thematic compression may find pacing uneven. Some chapters linger on minutiae that slow forward motion. For readers who relish intimacy and episodic structure, however, those same detours are the book’s reward, offering charm and texture rather than distraction. Silvers’ endearing mild self-deprecation softens sharper observations into warmth lending the narrative a sense of intimacy that invites readers to explore his memories with an open mind.

You Don’t Have to Be Famous to Write a Memoir is a quietly affectionate keepsake: warm, funny, and grounded in family. It’s ideal for relatives, former teachers, travelers, and anyone who enjoys life-stories told without pretense. If memoirs can be seen as a sequence of humane, well-observed moments rather than a sweeping literary experiment, Silvers’ book feels like a comfortable, illuminating conversation.

Thank you for reading John M. Murray’s book review of You Don’t Have to Be Famous to Write a Memoir by Stephen Mark Silvers! If you liked what you read, please spend some more time with us at the links below.

The post Book Review: You Don’t Have to Be Famous to Write a Memoir appeared first on Independent Book Review.