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Hey Reader, This week, I’m reading four books in four slightly different ways. A few pages at a time. By skipping ahead. By going back over what I missed. And by letting myself ask questions I used to think I wasn’t supposed to ask. These Truths by Jill Lepore is a history of the United States, and right now I’m reading about the first Congress and the enormous pile of questions the country’s founders had to work through. I’m taking it a few pages at a time. Not because there’s anything wrong with the book, but because that’s the pace at which I can stay interested and actually think about what I’m reading. Every few pages, Lepore reminds me that the country was not born settled. It was born arguing. Then there’s Edward Rutherfurd’s London. I’ve started this book so many times I’ve lost count. For some reason, I could never get past Chapter 3. It is a LONG chapter. This time I’ve made it to Chapter 5, and I’m still going. Will I finish? No idea. It’s okay if I don’t. But I’m more willing this time to put up with stretches I find boring. I skipped ahead to a chapter set in the 1700s, got interested enough to wonder how the story arrives there, and now that curiosity is pulling me through. A Better Man by Louise Penny is a reread, though “reread” may be generous. I listened to the entire Inspector Gamache series late last year and early this year while recuperating from some significant health issues. I slept through more of the series than I realized. My friend the librarian suggested that reading a 20-book series out of order might not be the best idea. Turns out, she was right. Between the out-of-order books and sleeping through huge hunks of every plot, I missed quite a bit. So now I’m reading along on Kindle and sometimes listening on Libby when the audiobook is available. The plots make a LOT more sense now. I’ve also been taking notes in the margins on my Kindle Scribe. The series has dredged up questions I want to write about later. And my friend the librarian tells me Book 21 is coming soon. This time, I’ll be ready. The fourth book is The Edge of the Inside by Jeremy Jernigan. Jernigan has a big TikTok following and appears in my feed often. Not nearly as often as Banana Ball antics, but my follow list is mostly the Indianapolis Clowns, Party Animals, Pharty, Split, and madman Jesse Cole, so that’s a difficult contest to win. For most of my life as a believer, I’ve felt like a one-off. Even as a little kid in Sunday School, there were so many things I couldn’t get my head around. I would ask questions the sweet Sunday School teachers couldn’t answer on the fly. I’m finally giving myself permission to ask those questions and answer them myself. One of the questions I’ve been carrying for several months is what good comes from suffering. Right now, I don’t think any good comes from suffering. Suffering is, at best, no fun. Highly objectionable. Something we’d all pass up on the dinner bar at Golden Corral. At worst, it feels like a precursor to hell. Do I believe a season of suffering can change our perspectives on life? Absolutely. And we're 100% in control of whether we play our Platinum Victim Card for the rest of our lives or we learn to enjoy the lives we have. But that's a newsletter topic for another day. Jernigan’s book makes me feel less alone on the edge of faith in this particular area. Will I stay here forever? Probably not. I’m also reading and studying Job, using several translations of Scripture. I don’t have a clean answer yet. I also made a small companion page for this week’s reading stack — four books, four ways of reading them, and a few notes on what each one is helping me notice. You can see it here: Still reading. Still asking. Maybe that’s what these four books have in common for me this week. I don’t have to finish London to be curious about where it goes. I don’t have to pretend I absorbed the Inspector Gamache books the first time. I don’t have to race through American history. And I don’t have to settle a question about suffering before I’m allowed to keep asking it. Sometimes reading isn’t about reaching a verdict. Sometimes it’s how we stay with the question long enough to hear what it’s asking of us. — Tracy “Still reading, still asking” Winchell P. S. What are you reading differently right now—more slowly, out of order, for a second time, or with a question you can’t answer yet? Hit reply. I’d love to know. If you’re enjoying Unhustled, you might also like my friend and colleague Matt Ragland’s newsletter. |
This isn’t BookTok. It’s not productivity porn. It’s just one reader—thinking out loud about what stories do to us. Unhustled is where you go when you want the reading part of your life to feel like yours again.
Hey Reader I was reading a history book last week when a single paragraph made me put it down. Not because it was too much. Because I needed a minute to think about what I'd just understood. The book is These Truths by Jill Lepore. The paragraph was about an uprising in 1676 Virginia — poor white servants and Black people, some free, some enslaved, fighting together. They burned Jamestown. They nearly toppled the colonial government. And then they lost. What happened next is the part that...
Hey Reader, For months, a book sat untouched in my Kindle library. I'd open it, read the first chapter, then decide I wasn't in the mood for something long and emotionally heavy. Then I'd move on to something I didn't need to think much about. Then I'd try again a few weeks later and get the same result. The book wasn't doing anything wrong. I just wasn't ready for it. The book was Matterhorn. Karl Marlantes, a Vietnam veteran, spent more than 30 years writing the novel. You can feel his...
Hey Reader, Most people blame distraction for why they stop reading. I blamed myself. I thought I was lazy. Undisciplined. Too slow to keep up with all the "smart" people online and the stacks of business books they tore through every week. Eventually my own stacks of "must-reads" felt as heavy as the guilt of not keeping up with the people I wanted to model in the world of writing and teaching online. One day I realized I hadn't read a novel in months. Since first grade I've loved fiction....