I first heard this question at a funeral of a friend who had died of cancer. In the eulogy, the speaker shared that in the remaining weeks of his life, ever searching for guidance and meaning, my friend asked his pastor, “What should I be reading right now?”
In a time when the world seems to spin ever faster, reading is always a quest for clarity amidst the chaos and wisdom amidst the bewilderment. So, I began looking around to see what others are reading. First stop is the National Jewish Book Awards. Already on my nightstand: Lee Yaron’s 10/7: 100 Human Stories. Another waiting to be cracked open is Isabel Kershner’s The Land of Hope and Fear: Israel’s Battle for Its Inner Soul (written before 10/7).
A rabbi I study with offered: The Smell of Rain on Dust by Martín Prechtel, who, trained in the Tzutujil Maya shamanic tradition, writes on the relationship between grief and praise—how the inability that many of us have to grieve properly for the dead is deeply linked with the inability to give praise for living.
She also offered two books by Dara Horn: The World to Come and People Love Dead Jews. In the latter, Horn provides a startling and profound exploration of how Jewish history is exploited to comfort the living. And then there’s Kantika, by Elizabeth Graver; a dazzling Sephardic multigenerational saga that moves from Istanbul to Barcelona, Havana, and New York, exploring displacement, endurance, and family as home.
A co-worker is reading Abundance by Ezra Klein and Derek Thompson, two progressive intellectuals who explain where the American left went wrong and how one generation’s solutions have become the next generation’s problems.
Always a passion for Holocaust literature, a friend recently gave me The Postcard, the fictionalized novel by Anne Brest about an investigation of the lives of relatives who were killed at Auschwitz and how that led to a reconnection with her own Jewishness. Put it at the top of your list. For a sobering, unsettling, and illuminating historical account of how Germany’s fractured republic gave way to the Third Reich, one of our lay leaders recommends Hitler’s First Hundred Days: When Germans Embraced the Third Reich by Peter Fritzsche.
Still another is reading A Brief History of Timekeeping by Chad Orzel, who explores timekeeping from Stonehenge to your smartphone. In an age when our lives are ruled by clocks and watches, smartphone apps and calendar programs, the drive to measure and master time is an age-old endeavor.
Still others offered In Love with the World: A Monk’s Journey Through the Bardos of Living and Dying by Yongey Mingyur Rinpoche and Helen Tworkov, about a world-renowned Buddhist monk’s near-death experience and the life-changing wisdom he gained from it.
And Hunt Gather Parent: What Ancient Cultures Can Teach Us About the Lost Art of Raising Happy, Helpful Little Humans by Micihaeleen Doucleff. Or Barbara Kingsolver’s Demon Copperhead about a young boy and his tumultuous childhood and adolescence in contemporary Appalachia. Still getting rave reviews is James by Percival Everett, a brilliant reimagining of Adventures of Huckleberry Finn—both harrowing and satirical—told from the enslaved Jim’s point of view.
Reading isn’t about escaping reality—it’s about engaging with it more thoughtfully. In a world of superficial scrolling, choosing to sit with a book is a radical act of focus. It allows us to digest complexity, consider multiple viewpoints, and ultimately, become more empathetic, and better informed. So, as the world continues to churn in unpredictable ways, perhaps the clearest path forward starts with a simple act: opening a book.