My Fave Reads of 2021

+ why reading increases wonder

Hey! I’m coming back to this space more often in 2022, and I’m looking forward to cultivating it as a space to connect more intentionally with you.

Before we jump in, I need to tell you that my book, This Too Shall Last, is on a wild sale on Kindle right now for just $2.99! No one tells authors how long these sales will last, but they usually don’t last more than a couple of days. So jump on it! Or send a friend a copy as a gift.

I’ll tell you about my favorite reads of 2021 farther down (along with a little secret about my next book), but first I need to tell you that one of my favorite things in the whole universe is reading late into the night, so pulled into a story that I cannot put it down.

On Sunday I spent the dark hours before midnight engrossed in a story. Monday was the last day of my much-needed Christmas vacation, so I knew I could be extravagant with my energy, spending it on the solitude of warm stories inside warm sheets, while everyone else was asleep. I’m still smiling thinking about it. 

I am convinced that those moments when Pragmatism waves a white flag to Wonder infuse me with a secret elixir of endurance. Like Stephen King wrote, books really are “uniquely portable magic.”

I read 80 books over the course of 2021, around what I read in 2020. And I’m not sharing that number to get my adult version of a Book It! Personal Pan Pizza Prize of Honor (who else misses that, though?!) but, rather, to invite you into the wonder of a regular reading practice.

Last week some of you asked me why I read so much and how I read so much, and the answers are related.

“Attention is the rarest and purest form of generosity.” —Simone Weil

Think of the last time someone gave you their full attention. Really. Try to call that memory to mind. (For many, you might not be able to recall a moment someone paid full attention to you.)

Now think of how often someone you love glances at their phone while talking to you. Think of how many times a day you find yourself reaching for yours. Maybe…probably…you’ve already felt the urge to click away from this essay, instinctively reaching to check Instagram or your email. 

Neuroscientists like Professor Earl Miller remind us that the human brain is designed to be single-minded. We have a limited cognitive capacity, but we are culturally conditioned to live like we are limitless. 

We live like we should be able to drink in a steady firehouse of global news, withstand a river of opinions and outrage on social media, and still be able to offer kindness, gentleness, and patience to the people standing right in front of us. The human nervous system can’t do it all, and attempting limitlessness only reduces us to living in a frequent state of stress. 

I’m not here to incite shame over our struggle to stay focused. I am, however, here to remind us that the greatest moments of delight in life, the sweetness that reminds us how good it is to be alive, the wonder of knowing and being known—it all requires our attention.

“To hear the voice of love and to let our lives, stories, and brains be reshaped and rewritten by God’s presence, we have to pay attention. If we are not captivated by the story and presence of grace, we’ll live captive to the story of shame. Attention is the activity of repentance.” —K.J. Ramsey, This Too Shall Last

Reading is resistance to the darkness that divides our attention.

Reading is itself an integrative practice, requiring several regions of the brain to work in concert. And when we read, we experience expanded connectivity in the neural networks of our brains that even lasts for days after we have set our book down. Reading fiction functionally increases our ability to understand the behavior and beliefs of those who are different from us. I could tell you more, about how reading reduces stress, increases vocabulary, and protects our brains from dementia. But I think you are getting the point:

When we turn the pages of a book, we are practicing the art of attention to keep turning the pages of our own stories with determination to be present. 

Why is reading one of the most important practices in my life? The spiritual discipline of reading strengthens my attention and affection to keep showing up in my own story. 

Read on for my fave reads of 2021.

---

My Fave Reads of 2021

1. See No Stranger: A Memoir and Manifesto of Revolutionary Love by Valarie Kaur

This was the most healing book I read in 2021. Kaur is a filmmaker, lawyer, and Sikh faith leader who overflows with kindness and wisdom.

“Joy is the gift of love. Grief is the price of love. Anger protects that which is loved. And when we think we have reached our limit, wonder is the act that returns us to love.”

I was particularly moved by Kaur’s courage to heal her own trauma. Her insight into the effect trauma has on our bodies and the way healing requires befriending our bodies is exquisite.

Vivid storytelling. Gorgeous prose. A book I want everyone I know to read. (Bonus: Kaur narrated the audio version, and her voice is melodic and comforting.) If you are weary of hate and outrage, this book will give you a safe place to gather courage to set out on the more beautiful way of love.

2. Cloud Cuckoo Land by Anthony Doerr

If you’ve read All the Light We Cannot See, you know Doerr is a master of words. His latest novel is remarkably different, and yet, it characteristically pulls us into the pain and beauty of being human. This book spans 626 pages and nearly a thousand years, intertwining the storylines of several characters at different points in time, all converging on the ancient story of Aethon.

I love a story within a story, because, well, isn’t that our story? To be a Christian is to find your story held and expanded within the arc of a larger story of love. And this book mirrors the magic of being a story-telling people.

I love how Doerr gives us characters in this book who are flawed and yet not bound to nor defined by their worst choices. I love how he moved me to lament the very real destruction on our planet, of which I am complicit. I love how his words filled my eyes with tears at the wonder it is to belong to each other.

3. Being Christian: Baptism, Bible, Eucharist, Prayer and Being Disciples: Essentials of the Christian Life by Rowan Williams

Yes, I am talking about two books at once, because in my mind, they should be read on each other’s heels…and then referenced and gifted and remembered for years to come.

Being Christian is the best succinct invitation to live out the gospel of Jesus that I have ever read. And I don’t say that lightly. It filled my heart with wonder and worship. Both of these books are remarkably brief (96 and 96 pages respectively) but potent.

Being Disciples communicates the centrality of receiving and savoring the presence of God. Nearly 10 months after reading it, I am still thinking of this quote:

“In the eyes of the presence that never goes away, all that you have been and are is still present and real; it is held together in that unifying gaze.”

You have a witness. There is a God who ever gazes on you with love. Nothing about who you are will ever be lost. These books helped me hold this wonder as mine, as yours, as our truest story.

4. A Burning In My Bones: The Authorized Biography of Eugene H. Peterson by Winn Collier

If you’ve followed my writing for long, you know I consider Eugene Peterson my pastor-from-the-page, from beyond the grave. I pick up a Peterson book nearly every time I am feeling overwhelmed or lost in my vocation as a writer/therapist/shepherd, and in his words, I find my way back home to the wonder of grace. (I wrote a lot more about why in my next book, by the way.)

Eugene’s presence through his books and Collier’s biography offer a balm to the vast number of us who have been harmed by pastors who cared more about hoarding power than being present. This book felt like getting to sit down with my friend and pastor, to be held in the tenderness of someone who considered paying attention his greatest calling.

Saint Irenaeus is famously known for writing, “The glory of God is man fully alive.” Eugene was a man, more than almost any I have encountered, who chose to live aflame by grace, fully alive. I ended the book with one lingering thought: if the very human and flawed Eugene could radiate such goodness, imagine how good it will be to see Jesus face to face.

5. Broken Horses by Brandi Carlile

2021 was the year that I was in the top .05% of Brandi Carlile’s listeners on all of Spotify, and for that feat, I am quite proud. Her voice kept me company more than anyone else’s while I wrote my next book, and that is because her honesty in Broken Horses helped me write my own story with more courage and grace.

This isn’t a gross celebrity altar to their own greatness. This is a book about seeing grace everywhere. I was challenged by how Brandi was unwilling to demonize the pastor who refused to baptize her because of being gay. I was strengthened by how she took the pain of being rejected and let it fuel finding and honoring others who have been too.

The writing is beautiful. And I became so obsessed that I also bought and listened to the audiobook, which is narrated by Brandi and includes a bonus hour+ of acoustic songs featured in the book.

If you need courage to show up for your life and let your gift be seen in this world, read Broken Horses.

6. The House in the Cerulean Sea by TJ Klune

This book is delightful. I almost don’t have words for how much I enjoyed reading it, except to say that it felt like getting the best hug.

7. The Weight of Memory by Shawn Smucker

I should have known after reading one of Shawn Smucker’s books last year: by the time I reach about 30% of the way into his books, his words render my self-control useless. I am physically incapable of reading a Shawn Smucker book and not staying up into the wee hours to finish it. Sleep becomes simply unimportant next to seeing his stories unfold.

The beauty, pacing, and pull of his words in The Weight of Memory glued the book to my hands until I reached the final page, spellbound by the story. Sure, it was a late night, but

I regret nothing.

8. The Good Shepherd: A Thousand-Year Journey from Psalm 23 to the New Testament by Kenneth Bailey

This is the part where I tell you a secret: my next book is a creative meditation on Psalm 23. It’s so much more, too, but I spent the last year and a half absorbing the courage of having a Good Shepherd who is with us always—no matter what harm we have held or pain we continue to endure. And this book by the late Kenneth Bailey was my near-constant companion as I wrote. In it, Bailey traces the Shepherd story from Psalm 23 all the way to Jesus’ parables and presence and beyond. It showed me facets of God’s kindness and Jesus’ presence that truly brought me to tears. It’s an academic book, but if you are intrigued by Psalm 23 or the idea of God as our Shepherd, it’s a rich read you won’t want to miss.

9. Everything Comes Next: Collected and New Poems by Naomi Shihab Nye

I heard Naomi Shihab Nye in an interview with Krista Tippett and was so captivated by her kindness and clarity of language that I immediately drove to my local bookstore and bought a copy of the only book by her I could find.

“Before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside,
you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing.”

—from “Kindness”

This is an empathy-building collection of poetry. Her poems prompted me to see the vulnerability beyond violence, to grieve, to laugh, and to smile. If you are new to reading poetry and want somewhere accessible to dive in, this is a great place to begin.

10. The Wild Edge of Sorrow: Rituals of Renewal and the Sacred Work of Grief by Francis Weller

This was my husband’s favorite book of the year. (I nearly didn’t list it out of sheer stubborn Enneagram 4-individuality-ness, but people, I am growing up.) The Wild Edge of Sorrow gave Ryan space to witness his own sorrow in a way I have never seen before. And it sparked more conversations between us around our shared vocation of holding space for others in their grief than anything else did all year.

Weller’s book is quiet, poetic, and potent. He reminds us that:

“Grief and love are sisters, woven together from the beginning. Their kinship reminds us that there is no love that does not contain loss and no loss that is not a reminder of the love we carry for what we once held close.”

This is a book we will be carrying close with us as we continue to imagine our future of finding grace at the edge of sorrow for ourselves and our broader community.

Other books I adored:

• The Sentence by Louise Erdrich

• Tattoos on the Heart by Gregory Boyle (truthfully, I read all of his books in a matter of a week and a half, because they were like manna in a desert during a particularly hard season in the Fall)

• Hollywood Park by Mikel Jollett

• Letters to a Young Poet by Rainer Maria Rilke

• Piranesi by Susanna Clarke

• Inheritance by Dani Shapiro

• The Seven Storey Mountain by Thomas Merton

• Once There Were Wolves by Charlotte McConaghy

I’ll be answering your FAQ about my reading habits over on IG tomorrow, because Substack just informed me this email is waaaaay too long. I’ll leave you with one thought:

No matter how many books you end up reading this year, I hope you will remember that when you turn the pages of a book, you are practicing the art of attention to keep turning the pages of your own story with hope.

Read on.

—KJ

P.S. PLEASE TELL ME about your fave reads of 2021 in a comment!