The Best Book I Read This Month: The Story of Jane by Laura Kaplan

I struggled with my choice for best book this month. I read a fantastic dark fairy tale by Eowyn Ivey (Black Woods, Blue Sky) that fit the bill. But I also read a compelling work of nonfiction, and ultimately that is the one I have chosen. Laura Kaplan’s The Story of Jane: The Legendary Underground Feminist Abortion Service does exactly what its title suggests: it tells the story of Chicago’s Jane Collective from its founding in 1969 to its closure in 1973 in the wake of the Roe v. Wade decision.

Because what Jane did was illegal, its organizers made a point of not creating or leaving written records. So Kaplan’s book is based on oral history (interviews) and her own experiences. (Kaplan volunteered with Jane.)

It was a timely read, with reproductive rights being rolled back and the growth of pro-democracy grassroots organizing in the United States. In addition to telling a compelling story about people who were both sympathetic and frustrating, The Story of Jane provides examples and lessons that serve both causes—lessons about leadership, recruitment, and organization, but also about intention, community, and allyship across socioeconomic and racial lines and, most of all, about what success might look like in an underground resistance movement.

The Best Book I Read This Month: Lost Boy by Christina Henry

Christina Henry has become one of my favorite authors. I love her retellings of Alice in Wonderland and The Legend of Sleepy Hollow. So it’s no surprise that the best book I read this month was her take on Peter Pan.

Lost Boy is a prequel to the Peter Pan story we know. It’s an account of how Captain Hook, Pan’s mortal enemy, became Captain Hook.

Jamie, the boy who would become Hook, is the narrator and main character. The story grows darker as Jamie awakens to the true nature of Peter Pan, the island, and what it means to be a Lost Boy. Along the way he forms a surrogate family, one that he defends and protects as a parent would.

The story has all the magic one would expect from a Peter Pan story, as well as many of the familiar elements of Neverland. Henry adds a few inventions of her own, as well, that add to growing darkness of the story.

It all works to tell an engaging, compelling tale—and posits the idea that maybe Captain Hook really wasn’t a villain after all.

The Best Book I Read This Month: The Warm Hands of Ghosts by Katherine Arden

The best book I read this month was a haunting story by Katherine Arden called The Warm Hands of Ghosts. I picked up the book for two reasons: I loved Arden’s The Bear and the Nightingale and this book was set during World War I, one of my favorite settings for historical fiction. I was not disappointed. In fact, The Warm Hands of Ghosts rocketed past The Bear and the Nightingale to become my favorite of Arden’s books.

The story deals with loss, both at the war’s western front and in Halifax in the aftermath of the 1917 explosion. Some of the characters have turned to spiritualism to cope with their losses. The main character, Laura, turns to work. She is combat nurse who was sent home after being injured in a bombardment. When her brother goes missing at the front, she returns to duty to search for him.

On their journeys, both Laura and her brother cross paths with a mysterious violin-playing hotelier who offers escape from the horrors of their lives. That escape, of course, comes at a price.

But there is more than just loss and horrors in the story. There is also love: familial love, romantic love, and platonic love. It’s a rich tapestry in a dark story that ends on a note of hope.

The Best Book I Read This Month: Meddling Kids by Edgar Cantero

The best book I read this month was a pop culture delight. If you’re at all familiar with Scooby Doo cartoons, the title of Edgar Cantero’s Meddling Kids gives away the premise: a group of kids and their dog solve mysteries.

In Cantero’s version, the kids really were kids—tweens—when they solved their mysteries (as opposed to the older Scooby Doo gang) and their last case comes back to haunt them many years later.

Cantero’s detectives are not a 1:1 match to the Scooby Doo gang—the dog, for example, is a Weimaraner, not a Great Dane—but they were known for unmasking a monster to reveal it was an angry older man who did, indeed, call them “meddling kids.” And it all took place in a town near the Zoinx River. It’s a fun homage to Scooby and the gang. There are shout-outs to other pop culture properties, too, but I don’t want to give them away.

The story centers around the gang’s realization that their last mystery sent an innocent man to prison and their efforts to right that wrong by finding the real perpetrator. Along the way, they encounter old friends, old enemies, and dangers both real and supernatural. The story is fun and suspenseful, one that appeals not only to fans of Scooby Doo but also to those who love Stranger Things.

Saying Goodbye to Penny

On Wednesday, November 12, 2025, the United States minted its last penny—and my Penny took her last breath.

Penny, in her foster home before I adopted her. The rescue called her “Miss Punctuation.”

I never planned to adopt a chihuahua. I went to the rescue event to ask about a poodle. I’d had poodles and poodle mixes my whole life. I wanted Duncan to have a companion, and the rescue had a female mini poodle that I thought would be perfect. My place in line was next to a pen with one of their adoptable dogs: a tan chihuahua mix named “Miss Punctuation.” As I stood there, Miss Punctuation came over and nudged my hand with her head so I’d pet her. The rescue person noticed and said, “She’s never like that with anyone.” I shrugged off the comment. After all, I wanted a poodle, not a chihuahua.

The poodle girl did a home visit, and Duncan soundly rejected her. Only then did I think about the rescue person’s comment. I went to the rescue’s next event and this time, hung out with Miss Punctuation. At one point, I held her. While in my arms, she snapped at anyone else who tried to pet her. She wanted everyone to know that I was her person.

She came for a home visit. She walked in, peed on all four corners of my living room rug, jumped up on the sofa, and declared herself at home. Duncan ignored her. A week later, she officially became mine. I renamed her Penny.

Penny taught Duncan how to beg.

Penny and Duncan had an odd relationship. They moved in separate orbits at home, but clung to each other at day care and in boarding. She tried to engage him in play; he had no interest. Still, she helped draw him out of his shell and taught him how to dog.

When Duncan died last year, Penny took it on herself to console me. She stayed close to me, engaged with me, led me on walks along new paths. She also reveled in finally being an only dog.

She was not happy when I brought home Ozzie. She made it clear that this was her house, but eventually, we reached a point of reluctant tolerance.

Penny had OPINIONS, and she was not shy about sharing them.

Through it all, Penny had a larger than life personality. She was the most expressive dog I’ve ever known. Duncan was a dog who took up no space. Penny, on the other hand, filled every nook and cranny. I used to describe her as being “bigger on the inside,” as eight hundred pounds of sass in an eight pound body. There was never any question about how she felt. She made sure you knew.

She loved walks and claimed every yard in our subdivision. She had a preferred routine for checking and refreshing her marks, too. And God help any other dog that dared exist in her territory. Same for the local wildlife. She chased every squirrel she encountered. She even tried to start something with two Canada geese in our front yard. It took years, but I finally trained her to accept that other dogs did, in fact, have a right to walk on the same streets she did and to exist in their own homes—even her sworn enemies, the weimaraners down the street. I was not as successful with the wildlife.

Penny hated cold weather—cold meaning anything below 70°F—and over her short life, she accumulated an impressive collection of sweaters, sweatshirts, and jackets. She burrowed under blankets, even when it was 85°F and humid outside. She toasted in sun spots. (She was a chihuahua, and everyone knows chihuahuas are solar powered.) She was a heat-seeking missile, and her favorite place to warm up was my lap.

Penny’s favorite place was on or next to me.

She was terrified of thunderstorms and fireworks. Any loud boom noises, actually. She once had a meltdown because my neighbor slammed their car door shut. Her fear got worse as she got older. Enter a Happy Hoodie and a Thundershirt. Eventually, that wasn’t enough. A couple of years ago, when she started trying to bark the thunder and fireworks away, I brought her to the vet and said, “Either she gets medicated or I do.” (She did.)

I called her “Miss Penny,” “Baby,” and “MA’AM,” and I thought she’d be with me into my own old age. After all, chihuahuas are long-lived dogs—often living into their late teens and sometimes twenties. When I adopted Penny, she was a year, maybe year-and-a-half, old. I figured we’d have close to two decades together.

Life had other plans.

On Wednesday night, Penny had a seizure. It came out of nowhere, and it was terrifying—for both of us. Then she had another one. I rushed her to the emergency vet. She had a third seizure as the vet examined her. He listened to her heart and said, “She’s dying.”

I was not prepared for those words. Penny had seen her regular vet a month before. There was no indication then that anything was wrong with her.

Penny (2016–2025)

The emergency vet managed to stabilize her, so we could talk about her situation. It was heartbreakingly clear that there was only one option: saying goodbye.

I cried. I pet her. I told her I loved her. I told her I would keep my promise to take care of her and make her all better, just not the way I had expected. She leaned over and touched her nose to mine. I’d like to think she was saying, “Thank you.”

Minutes later, it was over. A few hours after her first seizure, she was gone.

It’s going to take me a while to grapple with what happened and with the giant hole that small dog left in my life.

I hope that someday she’ll find her way back to me.

If you would like to do something to honor Penny, please make a donation to Young at Heart Senior Pet Adoptions or another rescue near you.