Perhaps you’ve seen the stats: Americans are reading less and less. Cue the emergency sirens.
Less reading feels like a leading indicator of more than a few crucial, nation-changing-in-a-bad-way things. Just something to think about, betwixt our chugs of energy drinks and daily barrage of ADHD-riddled TikTok snippets.
I somehow find myself in social circles where one friend (because avid readers also tend to be record-keepers) read 60 books last year and another read more than 300 (THREE HUNDRED!). My 2022 finished book count, while slightly above the dismal American average, becomes quickly and woefully unimpressive.
Exactly how many books did I read?
I finished 20 of the 22 books I started. It’s almost like I planned it to be numerically poetic. 20-22. Sure, let’s say it was all pre-planned. Could’ve read more. Would’ve ruined the numbers. Yeah, that’s it.
The best music books I read were Ian MacDonald’s Revolution In The Head (about, surprise surprise, The Beatles) and Jeff Tweedy’s How To Write One Song (which, after having read shelves upon shelves of books about songwriting, actually gave me something new to chew on and be inspired by). Bono’s Surrender was on-brand in its massive earnestness. Bono is just so…Bono. Baldfaced cringey in spots. Poetic in others. Humbly self-aware here. Cluelessly blindspot-ridden there. Grand and Irish and all heart. There are some head-scratching audio effects and some unnecessary revisions of classic U2 songs. But there are also great stories and insights into music that has meant the world to me. Heartfelt tributes to his family and bandmates and collaborators. The audiobook features Bono reading the book himself, which has it charms, particularly when he attempts to mimic specific accents (Bill Clinton, Jimmy Iovine) with varying degrees of success. My feelings while listening were many-sided and nostalgic and layered, which is my U2 fandom in a glorious, unapologetic nutshell.
The most important book I read in 2022 was a a labor of love, painstakingly compiled by my dad (whose life wielding a red editing pen prepared him for such a mammoth detail-driven project), about his grandparents, Soren & Anna Jacobsen.
It’s full of transcripts of interviews (with my great-grandparents as well as about them by their offspring and contemporary relatives), timelines, backstory, incredible old photos, letters (more on this in just a bit). Both were immigrants from Scandinavia. Both did significant good with their time in this life, laying the foundation for the family I love. In many ways, we are our ancestors and they are us. Their accomplishments and struggles are in our DNA and we can learn so much from where they soared (and where they didn’t).
One random musing inspired by the book is that I really miss letter writing (which may have played a part in starting a modern, online version of missives). Most of us don’t archive our emails (much less, our daily texts, family threads, Slack messages) to help tell our stories. And, even if we kept them all, who would ever comb through the planet-sized haystack—about potential Utah Jazz trades and what to get at the grocery store and whatever emoji or gif strikes our fancy—to find the important stuff? I have a hard time believing even the best-crafted text will have even half the long-term impact of a handwritten letter scrawled beneath the letterhead of some hotel in Norway.
One of the many primary sources my dad used was an interview my sister Sarah conducted with Ted C. Jacobsen (my dad’s uncle, son of Soren & Anna) and his wife Florence. Even just in the transcript of the interview, you can feel Sarah’s desire to connect with Anna. To know more. To have a clearer character sketch. To add real color. Luckily, Florence (Anna’s daughter-in-law) came through with some excellent, humanizing stories about Anna that stretch beyond the true-but-reductive “faithful, determined, sacrificing woman.” It occurred to me, in reading, that some biographies might be better written by friends of the men/women. Children often see their parents unidimensionally or from a more limited perspective. This dawned on me a few years ago, when my siblings and I compiled letters from my parents’ friends into a book for their birthdays (plural…efficient, right?). I learned far more about my parents from those letters than I think I would have from one of my brothers, no offense to any of them. It’s just a different relationship, different lens, different context. That’s what hearing about Anna through the eyes of Florence was like—more three-dimensional, more color, more life.
Reading the book was a bit like attending the funeral of someone well-loved—I was left to wonder what, if anything, people might say about me when I’m gone. A bit of motivation going forward. Reminded me of a tweet I saw once about Father’s Day.
The rest of 2022’s books
The Storyteller—Dave Grohl
Likely the most well-liked rockstar of the grunge era, but let’s cut to the chase: the Nirvana portions of the book were disappointing. I didn’t need dirt and of course I understand that there’s an unimaginable amount of trauma surrounding Kurt Cobain’s death. But it felt like “then we recorded Nevermind and it was huge and it was insane and then we recorded In Utero and then Kurt died.” It’s his story to tell, I suppose. I was hoping for more.
Fablehaven Books 3, 4, 5—Brandon Mull
Uh, let’s just say I’m glad we’re done, no matter how much my eight year old loved them.
The Magic Misfits Books 1 & 2—Neil Patrick Harris
Anything would be a masterpiece after Fablehaven.
Portrait of the Artist As A Young Man—James Joyce
My second failed ascent of a Joyce book. What am I missing?
Miracle & Wonder—Paul Simon
Interviewed by Malcolm Gladwell. Brilliant in spots, but still only second-place in Songwriting Books I Read In 2022 power rankings. Re-recording “Bridge Over Troubled Water” didn’t help.
The Wonderful Wizard of Oz—L. Frank Baum
Fun. Less witchful than the movie. And the slippers are (gasp) not red!?!
The 90s—Chuck Klosterman.
When Klosterman and his publisher were planning on marketing this book, the target market persona was literally a picture of me. (Pairs well with Rob Harvila’s podcast 60 Songs That Explain The 90s, if you wanna double down on your nostalgia trip. But make sure you don’t mind lots of, uh, colorful language. Because it’s in there.)
Bits of the Old Testament
Until a few months ago, I taught Sunday School at church. This year, with emphasis on the Old Testament, really tested my abilities. A highlight: reading Job with the idea of doubt as a demonstration of faith. It was truly paradigm-shifting for me.
Soundtracks—Jon Acuff
Recommended by my friend Mehrsa, this one basically hits on the importance of monitoring and shifting how we talk about ourselves and to ourselves.
Pax & Pax: Journey Home—Sara Pennypacker
Surprisingly poignant and beautiful and sad and tender, for an alleged kids book.
Harry Potter & the Half Blood Prince & The Deathly Hallows
What am I gonna tell you about this that you don’t already know or have a fully-formed opinion about?
Matilda—Roald Dahl
On the heels of seeing my friends’ daughter play the lead at the Scera Shell in Provo, the kids were primed for another listen to this classic.
Dress Your Family In Corduroy and Denim—David Sedaris
Always sharp and dry and funny and astute and sometimes sad. That’s the Sedaris brand.
CURRENTLY READING
Do Not Sell At Any Price—Amanda Petrusich
Superbly written and researched look at the niche world of record collection by one of my favorite culture writers today.
Cloud Cuckoo Land—Anthony Doerr
Ambitious storylines from the past, present, myth, and future, threaded expertly. My mom gave this to me, saying something like, “it wasn’t my cup of tea but seems like something you’d appreciate.” She was correct. I’m a sucker for books where disparate storylines, over centuries, find ways to collide in beautiful and enlightening ways.
Your Song Changed My Life—Bob Boilen
Just started this book by NPR mainstay Boilen, where he talks to artists about songs changing their lives. So far I’ve just gotten through David Byrne (he wouldn’t name just one, no surprise), Carrie Brownstein of Sleater-Kinney (Bastards of the Young by The Replacements), and Jimmy Page (Rock Island Line by Lonnie Donegan). Looking forward to chapters about St. Vincent, Smokey Robinson, and Courtney Barnett.
I’m reading Dilla Time right now. A great history of hip hop beat maker and rapper J Dilla, who is a key part of so many lesser known hip hop threads. There are Moby Dick-esque deep dives on the nuances of sampling and beat making. J Dilla was the idol and collaborator of so many legends -- Questlove, D’Angelo, Common, Erykah Badu.