The Bookshelf ~ April 2026

lectori salutem

Apr 27, 2026

Some of the EML Vol. 9 drafts piled about the house.

DEAR READER,

I am sitting on my bed, the window open to April’s evening—listening to Fauré, a beeswax candle burning—but my mind is immersed in the golden August of 1884. So I can’t be here long.

Image in public domain, Library of Congress.

Spring circles me back to certain songs and paintings. I enjoy dipping into familiar poems, including some by St. Vincent Millay. I have always loved this photograph. It captures the melancholy and sweetness inherent in the season.

EML 9 is galloping! (There is no date yet, though it will be this year.)

I understand I don’t offer as many details as some readers would like, but I find that if I share too much about the current state of the manuscript, energy gets syphoned away from the pages. I can feel it go.

So I have to protect my writing, my process, my characters. I’m not trying to be coy or mysterious. I am trying to do the work to the best of my ability with the energy that I have at my disposal on any given day. So please keep sending positive vibes, and I will keep my eye on the ball. (Baseball season has begun, so it’s an appropriate analogy.)

St. Crispian’s is in my head—circling, moving, people talking, lives being lived. I can feel the dust, the shiver of chilled mornings, the stubborn pavement under my feet, and the sticky heat of summer afternoons. Each volume has a beating heart.

On a recent day (that I was supposed to be taking off), I spent two hours in EML 9, and then while I was gardening, a scene from EML 10 burst into my mind. I paused and wrote it out. And then wrote a follow-up scene from EML 13, and jotted another snippet from EML 19-ish. And considered something unrelated but important from EML 14.

Some nights I can’t settle into sleep for the motion of it all. And so I have to balance my writing with space—keeping my own life intact, somewhat ordered, and nourishing. I garden to ground myself in my reality as I am so often in this other.

After thirteen books in nine years, not releasing a book last year was the best thing I could have done to ensure that I have the longevity this endeavor requires.

Anyway, I wanted to share these thoughts with you.

I’m so pleased to have the readers that I do.
Thank you for your enthusiasm and support.

There are certain albums that capture a sense of spring and nostalgia for me. Most are regular music albums (i.e., George Michael’s Listen Without Prejudice), but here is one of the more unusual in my collection.

It is the soundtrack for Ken Burns’s 18-hour documentary called Baseball.

I love both the sport and the history, and spring always awakes the instinct to pull out the glove and have a catch.

As for the soundtrack, Nonsuch, the record company that sells the album, allows you to listen to partial clips. It begins with an 1846 quote from Walt Whitman about the game, includes some jazz, some old-school songs about different athletes, and radio calls from classic moments in the game. Such a fun album.

If you want to get a taste, press play on:

1. Walt Whitman

10. Club House Stomp

14. Joe DiMaggio Radio Call

15. Joltin’ Joe DiMaggio

Eulogy for Jackie Robinson

A note: Reverend Jesse Jackson gave the eulogy at the funeral of the great Jackie Robinson. It is such a moving recording. Jackson’s rhetorical skills are on full display as he delivers a finely-drawn exposition on the significance of Jackie Robinson—for baseball, for civil rights, for America. When I was younger, my little sister and I would practice giving the eulogy along with him, trying to memorize all the words.

The clip is cut short, but below is the full paragraph. You really should listen to what you can, or hunt up the full clip from the documentary.

“Today we must balance the tears of sorrow with the tears of joy, mix the bitter with the sweet, death and life. Jackie, as a figure in history, was a rock in the water creating concentric circles and ripples of new possibility. He was medicine. He was immunized by God from catching the diseases that he fought. The Lord's arms of protection enabled him to go through dangers seen and unseen, and he had the capacity to wear glory with grace. Jackie's body was a temple of God, an instrument of peace. We would watch him disappear into nothingness and stand back as spectators and watch the suffering from afar. The mercy of God intercepted this process Tuesday and permitted him to steal away home. Where referees are out of place, and only the supreme judge of the universe speaks.”

I think often of the line, and he had the capacity to wear glory with grace.

(My Red Sox are on a 11-17 hobble into the season. Kip’s Yankees are 18-10. Brutal.)

WHILE I WAS in London this March, Emma was prowling the Underground. Echo Point had placed advertisements in eight different Tube stations, and so it became something of a game for the Audiobook Crew to find Emma and snap a picture. A bit surreal, to stand in a familiar station, look across the tracks, and find Emma waiting. Echo Point (special nod to Kaitlyn) did a great job.