What We Read in 2025

As we continue our annual wrap up of the past year's work, here are some of the books that our editors and team have most enjoyed in the past year:

Jake Meador

The World She Edited by Amy Reading: You probably are at least somewhat familiar with the legendary New Yorker writer and children's book author E. B. White. What you likely do not know is that his wife, Katharine Sergeant White, also worked for the New Yorker, that she played a key role in the first three decades of the magazine's life, and that without her we probably wouldn't have any of her husband's greatest books. Even that account of her, however, sells her rather short, I think—to get the full picture you'll need to read the book.

Cold Warriors by Duncan White: A story of the Cold War, told via the lives of the writers whose own stories are so bound up with it—Orwell, Hemingway, Koestler, McCarthy, Le Carré, Pasternak, and Solzhenitsyn, but many others as well. Orwell in particular comes out looking even more remarkable than I already knew him to be.

Nadya Williams

The Place of Tides by James Rebanks (Mere O review): On tiny and uninhabited (by humans) Norwegian islands, above the Arctic Circle, eider ducks come to nest each spring, and duck women (and men) have cared for them for generations, collecting their soft eider down as their reward (a feathery gold!). In his new book, the author and farmer James Rebanks shadows one such "duck woman," Anna. It's a beautifully written book about a lot more than duck care--about the relationship we moderns have with place, nature, and calling.

The Writer's Table: Famous Authors and Their Favourite Recipes by Valerie Stivers and Katie Tomlinson: Emily Dickinson used to write poems on the back of baking recipes, Joan Didion cooked for 40 people at a clip, and William Butler Yates once ate peacock at a rowdy party. These stories and many more are collected in this book that collects in alphabetical order (by author) stories about famous authors' eating and cooking habits, and includes a recipe for each one. The writing is delightful, the art outstanding, and the end result is just plain fun--this is the book I'm gifting all the food-and-books lovers in my life.

The Library of Ancient Wisdom: Mesopotamia and the Making of the Modern World by Selena Wisnom (Mere O review): I am an ancient historian, yet I sometimes forget just how much antiquity there was already before my Greeks and Romans arrived on the scene. This exquisitely researched book tells the story of the Library of Ashurbanipal in Nineveh, and it reads like the most incredible novel.

Brad East

The Hall of Uselessness: Collected Essays by Simon Leys: My favorite book I read all year. A large volume of classic essays by the late Belgian-Australian scholar of Chinese art and literature, the result is a panoramic view of French, English, and Chinese letters, history, and politics. Leys, a Roman Catholic and man out of time, was a one of one. You won't regret giving him your time.

The Shock of the Old: Technology and Global History Since 1900 by David Edgerton: My favorite technology book I read all year. The thesis: Most of our technology is old, including the technology that makes the world run; technology that seems defunct at one time or place reappears in another; most technological work is maintenance, not invention; most innovation falls by the wayside; and nothing technological is ever inevitable, because all technology (being social and cultural all the way down) is a contingent matter of human history, practice, and decisions. Let the reader understand.

Jesus and the Law of Moses: The Gospels and the Restoration of Israel within First-Century Judaism by Paul T. Sloan, and Paul and the Resurrection of Israel: Jews, Former Gentiles, Israelites by Jason A. Staples: Most biblical scholarship is a bore, but when it's good, it's marvelous. These two works should be read in tandem. Together they constitute a basic reorientation of Christian (or any) reading of the New Testament. This is historical research on Scripture done right, by two rising scholars not yet at the peak of their powers. Keep an eye on both.

Kirsten Sanders

Dorie’s Anytime Cakes by Dorie Greenspane: This just landed (October 2025), and I’ve already baked from it. I don’t enjoy labor intensive banking, so I make a lot of quick breads and easy cakes. The banana bread recipe alone is worth the purchase price.

The Old Filth trilogy by Jane Gardam: Expect a review of Gardam coming early next year in the Magpie. I have done something I’ve never done before and ordered her entire back stock. Gardam is a master novelist. These books do not take themselves too seriously and manage to truthfully retell stories about aging, loves lost and found, about empire and the end of colonialism. They are even deeply Christian in ways I’m not sure she intended. This trilogy would be a great gift.

Tessa Carman

Weep, Shudder, Die: On Opera and Poetry by Dana Gioia: Dana Gioia is charming literary company in any subject, but perhaps particularly so in these personal essays that explore the art of poetry in opera as well as the adventure of artistic collaboration. Along the way Gioia makes the case that it is power of the libretto—the words—that in turn inspires the composer to make great accompanying music. Gioia’s argument that Sondheim’s Sweeney Todd is indeed an opera and his tantalizing discussion of his own forays into writing librettos (perhaps most notably for an operatic treatment of Nosferatu) conclude a little volume that is a delight from start to finish.

The Woman Without a Shadow: A Twice-Told Tale by Hugo von Hofmannsthal: In 1919 Hugo von Hofmannsthal’s fairy tale opera The Woman Without a Shadow (Die Frau ohne Schatten), with music by Richard Strauss, premiered in Vienna. Later on, Hofmannsthal rewrote the story as a novella. This volume presents the novella, translated into English for the first time, along with the libretto in English, with an introduction by Dana Gioia on Hofmannsthal and the Marchen tradition. Imagine a tale with the atmosphere of Undine and the eucatastrophe of MacDonald’s “The Day Boy and the Night Girl” that meditates on the neglected-yet-central mystery of procreation. This “serious, passionate, and complex marital drama” (in Gioia’s words) captivated me and will be something I keep returning to.

The High Hallow: Tolkien’s Liturgical Imagination by Ben Reinhard: A book on Tolkien, liturgy, and imagination checks off some of my favorite things, so this book by literature professor and Beowulf translator Ben Reinhard was a must. Not only does Reinhard help fill in the gaps for a rather neglected aspect of Tolkien’s vision—the influence of his Catholic imagination on his work—but also he provides a sterling example of scholarship: He is careful in his argumentation, avoiding making too-grand statements or over-generalizations, all while making a beautiful case for how Tolkien’s Paschal-shaped fairy tale epic taps into the signs and symbols of redemptive history. An appendix also notes how Tolkien’s “domestic church”—his life as a husband and father—is also an essential part to his liturgical and fairy tale imagination.

Matthew Loftus

Cahokia Jazz by Francis Spufford: A noir detective story set in an alternate history in which the First Nations were able to form a sovereign territory in the middle of the Midwest. Spufford's take on the grizzled veteran cop helping his rookie partner navigate the dark underworld of pagan rituals and KKK conspiracies is spellbinding, as is his femme fatale who is also... a Christian princess? You'll struggle to put it down.

The Wake by Paul Kingsnorth: Written in a "shadow tongue" that imagines Old English in a form accessible to moderns, The Wake is one of the most memorable books you'll ever read (or listen to, as the audiobook version is easier to take in and performed magnificently.) Set during the Norman invasion, it is not a pleasant tale but it does give one a sense of the path Kingsnorth was walking before he turned to Christianity. It takes a few minutes for the shadow tongue to become familiar, but once it does you'll be transported to a very different world.

The Age of Diagnosis by Suzanne O'Sullivan: O'Sullivan, a UK neurologist, offers an insightful look at the rise of medical and psychiatric diagnoses, especially among young people. She lays out a convincing case that "ordinary life experiences, bodily imperfections, sadness and social anxiety are being subsumed into the category of medical disorder" and what that means for Western culture.

Ian Harber

Growing In Christ by J. I. Packer: This year I wanted to go back to the basics in a lot of ways. What I love about Packer’s Growing in Christ is that it covers the traditional catechism of The Apostle’s Creed, The Lord’s Prayer, and the Ten Commandments and also includes a section on Baptism which is basically his way of covering conversion and the church. These are all such foundational things that on one reading are really basic, but you could spend your whole life thinking about them as well. It really seems like every church should have a class that just goes through this book. I feel the same way about another little book I read this year, The Nicene Creed: An Introduction by Philip Carey.

Hannah Coulter by  Wendell Berry: I had never read Wendell Berry until I read Hannah Coulter over the Summer and I finally understood why people love him. It’s a short and simple book that is about an elderly woman reflecting on her life. There is much to meditate on in this book however, and it’s also beautifully written. I think reading it right after my wife did added a really rich dynamic in our home too. Highly recommend.

For The Children’s Sake by Susan Schaeffer Macaulay: We’re starting to have to think about school for our oldest son, and with the rise of AI during his earliest years, it’s sort of sent me on a side quest to really think deeply about education, what it is, what it’s for, and what will be needed in an AI world. Naturally, it didn’t take me long to fall down the Charlotte Mason rabbit hole. I went into For The Children’s Sake wanting to learn more about education, but I came out learning more about parenting in general. While I don’t think we’ll end up being a full-on Charlotte Mason home after all (for various reasons), I know for a fact this book helped me be a better parent.