My Top 10 Reads of 2025

This was a surprisingly difficult reading year for me. Not many books truly grabbed me, but the ones that did were memorable for different reasons. If I had to recommend one standout title, it would be The Doorman by Chris Pavone—a fun, tightly written page-turner that’s hard to put down. Pavone captures the cultural and political absurdities of modern America and wraps them in a fast, entertaining plot…with a dash of gratuitous violence for good measure.

I also enjoyed Walter Mosley’s novel Been Wrong So Long It Feels Like Right, the only other work of fiction on my list. Mosley has written a series of detective and mystery novels that I have enjoyed. In this book, he’s able to solve two mysteries simultaneously, including one of a deeply, personal matter.

Notable Nonfiction

1929: Inside the Greatest Crash in History by Andrew Ross Sorkin
A detailed, absorbing look at the lead-up to and during the Great Depression. It’s a cautionary tale for what could happen to the economy today. It’s excellent—if a bit long. If you prefer the highlights, Sorkin has several worthwhile YouTube interviews that cover the major themes of the book.

King of Kings by Scott Anderson and The Mission: The CIA in the 21st Century by Tim Weiner
These are the kinds of books certain corners of the political world would prefer never be published. Both portray America’s intelligence services, diplomatic corps, and various administrations as shockingly short-sighted and often incompetent—and that’s before Pete Hegseth enters the picture.

Miracles and Wonder: The Historical Mystery of Jesus by Elaine Pagels
I had high hopes for this one. I’m always looking for a thoughtful, persuasive argument that might ease my agnostic skepticism. While Pagels is insightful as always, nothing here challenged my doubts about God, Jesus, or Christianity in any meaningful way. But it is excellent in understanding the times and culture that Christ lived and examining many of the controversial sections of his life.

Murder the Truth: Fear, the First Amendment, and a Secret Campaign to Protect the Powerful by David Enrich
A sobering look at how political, economic, and cultural pressures are weakening the First Amendment and undermining journalism. Enrich offers example after example of how free speech and a free press are being chipped away—and it’s hard not to feel discouraged by what now passes for “journalism.”

Lucky Loser: How Donald Trump Squandered His Father’s Fortune and Created the Illusion of Success by Russ Buttenger and Susanne Craig
If you’re not a Donald Trump fan, this book will reinforce every doubt you’ve had about his business skills, judgment, and competence. Stories about Trump’s forays into real estate, the USFL, the casino industry, and other businesses. If you are MAGA, it’s fake news.

On Her Game Caitlin Clark, and the revolution in women’s sports by Christine Brennan Caitlin Clark may have been the best female collegiate basketball player of all time. But she met a lot of resistance from other players and from management when she entered the WNBA. Brennan documents how Clark’s biggest problems were not necessarily on the basketball court but off it.

Winter Journal by Paul Auster Boy could I relate to this book! Excellent written memoir of the author, who is 64, reviewing his regrets, experiences and dreams from youth to “old age.” For those of us who are in the “winter” of our lives, this book will inspire you to be more reflective and accepting of our lives – – successes and failures, both.

Book Review of 1929: Inside the Greatest Crash in Wall Street History – and How It Shattered a Nation by Andrew Ross Sorkin

I’ve been an admirer of Andrew Ross Sorkin’s financial reporting for years, particularly through his work on CNBC, and I previously enjoyed his book Too Big to Fail, a definitive account of the 2008–2009 financial crisis. With that bias admitted upfront, I found 1929 to be an engaging and illuminating read. Though the book is lengthy—about 444 pages—it never feels like a dry history textbook. Instead, it flows with the narrative tension of a novel, making complex financial events accessible and compelling.

A background or interest in finance, economics, or banking certainly enriches the reading experience, but Sorkin’s storytelling makes the material approachable even for those who aren’t steeped in economic jargon.

A Rich, Relevant History

What makes this book especially resonant is how closely the late 1920s echo aspects of our present moment. The U.S. had recently emerged from a pandemic; optimism about growth and technological change was widespread; and the stock market appeared unstoppable. Investors—large and small—took on unprecedented leverage, borrowing heavily to chase rising share prices.

But economic momentum is fragile. Once confidence cracked, the market’s collapse was swift and devastating. The crash wiped out fortunes, triggered a steep economic downturn, and led to widespread unemployment. The government and the Federal Reserve lacked a clear or unified strategy, and their responses were often reactive, hesitant, or contradictory.

Sorkin offers a nuanced view of Herbert Hoover, depicting him not as the caricature of incompetence found in some earlier accounts, but as a leader who recognized the depth of the crisis and attempted—albeit imperfectly—to stem the damage. It’s a more sympathetic portrait than many readers might expect.

Vivid Personalities and Power Players

The book is populated with fascinating figures from finance, government and politics, including:

Charles Mitchell, chairman and CEO of National City Bank (a central figure in the era’s excessive speculation)
Winston Churchill
Franklin Delano Roosevelt
Senator Carter Glass
Evangeline Adams
Herbert Hoover
Ferdinand Pecora
and many others

Sorkin demonstrates how the interplay of personalities, policies, and economic forces created the conditions for both the boom and the crash. His research is broad, and his interpretations are measured yet insightful.

Reflections on Today’s Economy

Reading about 1929 inevitably led me to think about the state of the economy today. Although history doesn’t repeat itself exactly, the parallels are difficult to ignore.

Policy and leadership concerns: I have deep concerns about the current administration’s economic management. Policies such as tariffs continue to ripple through the U.S. and global economies, often harming consumers and industries rather than helping them.
Social and economic inequities: Decisions to cut or withhold food aid and other social supports can create long-lasting harm. Tax structures continue to favor the wealthy, while those with the least must rely on charity to meet basic needs.
Economic data skepticism: I find it increasingly hard to trust official numbers—whether on inflation, unemployment, or growth—given how politicized and selectively interpreted economic data has become.
Uncertain impact of AI: Artificial intelligence is propping up portions of the stock market, but the long-term effects on employment, productivity, and corporate earnings remain unclear. Few leaders or analysts can articulate what the next decade will really look like if the hype fizzles.
Declining trust in corporate leadership: Watching CEOs—particularly in tech and finance—publicly defer to political power has shaken my confidence in their judgment. Elon Musk is the most visible example, but he is not alone.
The culture of greed: Increasingly, it feels as if greed has become our national creed. Even institutions that purport to offer moral guidance seem more interested in fundraising than fostering compassion or community.

Book Review: The Year of Magical Thinking by Joan Didiot

Deemed a modern classic, The Year of Magical Thinking is exquisitely written, deeply poignant—and I hated reading it. I rushed through its pages the way one might rush through the receiving line at a funeral: dutifully, respectfully, but eager to escape the suffocating air of grief.

Didion’s account of the sudden death of her husband and the parallel ordeal of her daughter’s illness feels both raw and composed, intimate yet universal. Her prose opens old wounds you thought had long scarred over. As I read, her words didn’t just tell her story—they resurrected mine.

I found myself silently comparing her losses to my own. Everyone, I suspect, has this book somewhere inside them, but few can articulate sorrow with Didion’s precision and restraint. Like her, I have often wondered whether I could have done more—whether I might have eased my mother’s suffering as dementia slowly erased her, or somehow saved my sister, who died suddenly before reaching forty. The helplessness still stings decades later.

Grief is a solitary ritual. When my father died of a heart attack at thirty-five, I was seven. There were no tears, no tantrums—just the quiet acceptance of a boy who learned too early that life can vanish mid-sentence.

As Didion’s pages turned, I realized I was no longer reading her memoir but reliving my own: the hospital rooms, the whispered prayers, the hollow silences after the machines stopped.

Didion’s The Year of Magical Thinking is a Pandora’s box of 227 pages. Once opened, it releases everything you thought you had buried—grief, guilt, love, regret—and leaves you to reckon with the consequences.

Book Review: King of Kings: The Iranian Revolution: A Story of Hubris, Delusion and Catastrophic Miscalculation by Scott Anderson

After reading this book, it’s easy to understand why U.S. relations with Iran remain so strained and why so much hostility exists toward America. For nearly a century, presidential administrations have made diplomatic blunders, compounded by intelligence failures that shaped disastrous outcomes.

I recently finished Tim Weiner’s The Mission: The CIA in the 21st Century, which documented the CIA’s missteps in Vietnam, Afghanistan, Iran, Iraq, and elsewhere. Anderson’s account shows the same pattern: Did we get anything right?

The intelligence failures in Iran were staggering. Agencies recorded Ayatollah Khomeini’s speeches but never bothered to translate them—missing clear warnings about his intentions. Meanwhile, the U.S. continued to prop up Shah Mohammad Reza Pahlavi, a weak and indecisive ruler despised by his own people. Ironically, his wife, Farah Pahlavi, displayed far more backbone and foresight. Yet to Washington, Iran’s real value was simply the oil beneath its soil.

Equally unconscionable was the way U.S. embassy staff in Tehran were treated as expendable pawns. The Carter administration fully understood the risks—especially after allowing the Shah into the United States—yet left personnel exposed to the fury of revolutionary crowds.

The lack of coordination between diplomatic and intelligence communities in the 1970s was nothing short of criminal. Mixed signals to the Shah, who desperately needed guidance and resolve, only deepened the chaos. Even today, the lingering question remains: Did Ronald Reagan deliberately delay the hostages’ release until after his inauguration?

Anderson does an excellent job highlighting both the heroes and villains of this tragic story. One memorable account involves teacher Michael Metrinko, who earned the respect of his Iranian students by deliberately standing up to—and physically subduing—the toughest among them.

By weaving personal tales with geopolitical history, Anderson makes the Iranian Revolution come alive in all its complexity. The result is a powerful and unsettling reminder of how deeply poor leadership and intelligence failures can alter history.

Book Review: Miracles and Wonder: The Historical Mystery of Jesus by Elaine Pagels

As an agnostic, I opened this book hoping it might shift my faith-doubt meter. It didn’t. Perhaps I expected too much.

Elaine Pagels, a distinguished scholar of religion, offers a deeply researched exploration of the history, culture, and legends surrounding Jesus. She examines familiar themes—the virgin birth, Jesus as prophet, miracles, crucifixion, and resurrection—while weaving in theories, conjectures, and historical possibilities. At times, though, her inquiry stops short of resolution, leaving questions dangling.

She does not shy away from provocative possibilities: Was Mary a prostitute? Was Jesus the illegitimate son of a Roman soldier? Was Jesus even buried after crucifixion, or left, like most executed criminals of the era, to scavenging animals?

Pagels acknowledges that the gospels themselves—written decades after Jesus’ death—are a blend of myth, storytelling, and propaganda designed to win followers. Yet she ends with a surprisingly devotional note: “The point is clear as a lightning flash; God can make a way out of no way.” She praises the gospels for offering what humanity craves most—an outburst of hope.

That left me puzzled. How much of Jesus’ life was historical, and how much was invention? If much of it was propaganda, why cling to its hope-filled message? For me, the book opened doors, raised intriguing questions, and stirred thought—but ultimately left me standing where I began.

Best Six Philosophy Books of My Lifetime

When religion failed to be an adequate guide on how to live and conduct oneself, I became interested in philosophy. I don’t pretend to be particularly wise or that I have conducted myself in life to a high standard, but these books provided some inspiration and guidance based on reason and common sense.

Because life is sweet, we do not want to give it up, and yet the more we become involved in it, the more we are trapped, limited and frustrated. We love it and hate it at the same time. We fall in love with people and possessions, only to be tortured by anxiety for them.

The Wisdom of Insecurity by Alan Watts

Chase after money and security and your heart will never unclench. Care about people’s approval and you will be their prisoner.

Tao Te Ching Translated by Stephen Mitchell

The wise man thinks about his troubles, only when there is some purpose in doing so; at other times, he thinks about other things, or, if it is night, about nothing at all.

The Conquest of Happiness by Bertrand Russell.

The best way of avenging one self is not to become like the wrong doer.

Meditations by Marcus Aurelius.

Book Review: The Mission: The CIA in the 21st Century by Tim Weiner

Tim Weiner’s The Mission is a sobering account of the CIA’s role in America’s foreign policy missteps and disasters in the 21st century. Drawing from extensive research, Weiner chronicles the agency’s involvement in 9/11, the failed search for weapons of mass destruction, the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq, the hunt for Osama bin Laden, CIA-led torture programs, intelligence scandals, and the rise of authoritarian threats from Russia and China.

This is a meticulously documented narrative by an author who previously wrote a highly regarded history of the CIA. His deep dive into the post-Cold War era exposes not just institutional failures, but also the personal hubris and political dysfunction that have plagued U.S. intelligence efforts for decades.

My key takeaways:

Lack of Trust and Influence: The CIA has long struggled to earn respect from Presidents and Congress. Time and again, its expertise was dismissed or ignored, and its assessments branded as unreliable.
The Bush Administration’s Failures: The book paints a particularly damning portrait of the Bush era. Following 9/11, President Bush, Dick Cheney, Condi Rice and Donald Rumsfeld failed to provide clear leadership. Their decisions around Afghanistan and Iraq were marked by confusion, overreach, and incompetence.
Torture and Moral Failure: The CIA’s use of torture—sanctioned by the Bush administration—was both brutal and ineffective. Weiner describes techniques that border on the medieval, with little intelligence gained and great moral cost.
Civilian Casualties and Poor Strategy: U.S. policies led to the deaths of countless innocent civilians. Nation-building efforts were hollow and often reduced to buying influence with cash, with no sustainable long-term strategy.
Leadership Void: Successive CIA directors often lacked the competence or temperament needed for the job. David Petraeus, once seen as a reformer, was undone by scandal and the mishandling of classified information.
Enemies Within: Some of the most troubling stories involve not foreign adversaries, but Americans working within the intelligence community– “evil doers.”
Russia and Trump: The book raises urgent concerns about Vladimir Putin’s manipulation of Donald Trump. While some critics view Weiner’s treatment of Trump as partisan, his claims are backed by specific examples of erratic behavior and questionable judgment.
China’s Strategic Gains: The author also warns about China’s aggressive espionage efforts, including theft of data, intellectual property, and personal information—threats that continue to grow.

Final Thought:

Weiner’s central question—What exactly is the CIA’s mission?—remains disturbingly unclear. The agency’s goals seem to shift with political winds rather than strategic foresight. If the U.S. is to effectively combat terrorism and the evolving threats posed by Russia, China, North Korea, and others, we need a vastly improved intelligence apparatus—one built on clear purpose, strong leadership, and accountability.

Review: On Her Game: Caitlin Clark and the Revolution in Women’s Sports by Christine Brennan

On Her Game is a compelling homage to Caitlin Clark, the dazzling college basketball star whose impact on women’s sports has transcended the court. In just four years at the University of Iowa, Clark became a national phenomenon: a 3.64 GPA marketing major, multiple-time All-American, record-setting scorer, and the face of a sport in transformation. She led her team to the Final Four, sold out arenas, and inspired young fans—both girls and boys—to wear her jersey.

Clark’s influence extended beyond basketball. With millions in endorsement deals, a sharp media presence, and a spotless off-court reputation, she quickly became a symbol of excellence and marketability in women’s sports. Articulate, humble, and team-oriented, she embraced her role as an ambassador of the game with poise.

So why has Clark—and this book—stirred controversy?

Christine Brennan, a veteran journalist with a well-earned reputation for fairness, explores the complex cultural tensions that have surrounded Clark’s rise. She notes that Clark’s identity as a white, attractive, straight woman in a league where many stars are Black and openly gay has led to resentment in some quarters. A handful of critics—players, coaches, and analysts—dismissed her collegiate dominance and questioned whether her game would translate to the pros. Early in her WNBA career, she faced not only physically intense defenses but also moments that bordered on bullying.

Some veteran players treated her with noticeable coldness. I draw parallels to the experience of Pete Maravich, another flamboyant scorer whose transition from college to the pros in 1970 was also met with skepticism and envy—particularly from Black teammates and established NBA stars who resented the media attention he received.

Interestingly, Brennan herself came under fire from some WNBA figures who accused her of pushing an agenda. Yet her reporting includes attempts to speak with those critical of Clark, many of whom declined to go on record. Brennan does not shy away from addressing racial dynamics, including examples of racism aimed at Clark. She also argues that leaving Clark off the 2024 U.S. Olympic team was a mistake—one that speaks more to league politics than performance.

Brennan’s book is sharp, fair, and timely. It raises important questions about race, gender, power, and the uneasy growing pains of a league adjusting to sudden mainstream attention.

As a fan of Caitlin Clark, I found On Her Game to be both informative and affirming. I hope Clark continues to thrive in the WNBA and that the league’s leadership recognizes the opportunity she represents. Stars like Clark don’t come along often—and when they do, they have the power to elevate not just a team or a league, but an entire sport.

Review of Buckley: The Life and The Revolution That Changed America by Sam Tanenhaus

Sam Tanenhaus’s nearly 900‑page biography is a major investment of time, and it helps to arrive already curious about—or at least aware of—William F. Buckley Jr. and the post‑war conservative movement he helped shape. For readers who meet that threshold, the book proves surprisingly readable; for those who don’t, the dense historical detail may feel arduous.

Scope and Balance

Tanenhaus is both exhaustive and even‑handed. He neither canonizes nor demonizes his subject, instead cataloguing Buckley’s triumphs alongside his missteps. Critics may bristle at the close attention paid to family “warts,” especially the overbearing father, but the research is meticulous and the portrait persuasive.

Buckley’s Major Misjudgments

Foreign‑policy zigzags – Buckley opposed U.S. entry into World War II before Pearl  Harbor yet staunchly backed the Vietnam War.
McCarthyism and Watergate – He defended Senator Joe McCarthy and later downplayed Watergate, even championing conspirator Howard Hunt.
Civil‑rights resistance – Buckley was late to endorse full political rights for Black Americans, claiming many were unprepared for the franchise.
The Edgar Smith debacle – Perhaps his worst lapse: lobbying for the release of convicted murderer Edgar Smith, who soon attacked another woman. Charm and flattery clouded Buckley’s judgement, and basic due diligence was absent.

Admirable Qualities

Despite his blind spots, Buckley inspired loyalty. Friends—ideological allies and foes alike—describe his private warmth, generosity, and wit. His charitable giving was substantial and discreet, and he remained courteous to adversaries off camera.

Education and Talents

An indifferent early student who failed several prep‑school entrance exams, Buckley benefited from a cosmopolitan upbringing in Europe, becoming multilingual. At Yale he honed the dazzling rhetorical style that later defined Firing Line. A true polymath, he wrote gracefully, played concert‑level piano, skippered ocean races, debated ferociously, and chronicled his frenetic routines in the memoir Overdrive.

Personal Speculations

Tanenhaus briefly entertains Gore Vidal’s insinuations about Buckley’s sexuality but unearths no substantial evidence. The Buckley‑Vidal televised clashes, however, remain one of the book’s liveliest threads.

Blind Spots in Business

For all his verbal precision, Buckley was financially inept. National Review survived only through repeated infusions from his father and sympathetic backers; balance sheets mystified him, and bankruptcy loomed more than once.

How the Book Changed My View

I once saw Buckley as an unalloyed Renaissance man. Tanenhaus complicates that picture, revealing antisemitic streaks, chronic resistance to civil rights, and a habit—memorably skewered by Yale philosopher Paul Weiss—of sounding authoritative on books he hadn’t read. In the end, Buckley emerges as brilliant but fallible, magnetic yet blinkered—a man whose revolution reshaped American conservatism while mirroring its contradictions.

Verdict

For readers already engaged with post‑war political history, Tanenhaus offers a definitive, engrossing study. Newcomers to Buckley may wish to sample his columns or television debates first; only then will they fully appreciate the nuance—and magnitude—of this sprawling biography.

Book Review: Original Sin: President Biden’s Decline, Its Cover-Up, and His Disastrous Choice to Run Again by Jake Tapper and Alex Thompson

This book is well-written, compelling, and—most notably—largely uncontested. I’ve read and heard very little pushback on the specific facts or episodes it reveals, which suggests that authors Alex Thompson and Jake Tapper did their journalistic homework. The anger it has generated seems not to concern the accuracy of its content, but rather the timing of its release—particularly among Biden loyalists, who view it as a betrayal during a time when the President is reportedly battling stage four colon cancer.

Others, more detached, wonder aloud why this information wasn’t brought to light sooner—why major media outlets, especially CNN, did not explore or disclose the full extent of President Biden’s physical and cognitive decline during his time in office. That is perhaps the most damning question of all.

This is an important book. It speaks to an uncomfortable truth that extends far beyond one man: the American political establishment, across all branches, has proven remarkably inept at addressing questions of age, health, and capacity among its senior-most officials. From the silent frailty of Dianne Feinstein to the vanished vigor of Ruth Bader Ginsburg, we’ve seen what happens when ego and denial—both personal and institutional—take precedence over public responsibility.

Perhaps the quintessential case of this phenomenon was Woodrow Wilson’s second term. After a debilitating stroke, Wilson was essentially incapacitated. His wife, Edith, barred access to him, managed his communications, and in effect acted as President. It was a quiet coup by pillow and teacup. The Republic endured, but barely.

There are shades of Edith Wilson in Jill Biden. She appears to have acted as her husband’s chief protector—controlling access, managing his schedule, shielding him from the press, and preserving the illusion of a functioning presidency. In her role as spouse, that’s understandable. In her unelected role as a shadow gatekeeper to the Commander-in-Chief, it is far more problematic. One might say she acted out of love; but in doing so, she may have done a grave disservice not just to Joe, but to the country.

The book should be read not as a political hit job, but as a cautionary tale—a sobering account of what happens when the reality of aging is denied, hidden, or downplayed in a role where vitality, decisiveness, and mental clarity are non-negotiable. The tragic erosion of strength and cognition in old age is painful to witness in any context. But when the individual in decline is the President of the United States, the stakes are exponentially higher.

Being President is not a part-time job. And yet, this administration’s inner circle seemed intent on turning it into a 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. desk duty—often with questionable results. The staff’s attempts to mask or manage the President’s decline weren’t just misguided; they were reckless. Shame on them. Shame on the senior Democrats who knew the truth and said nothing. And shame, too, on the partisans who savaged the few journalists who dared to report what millions of Americans could plainly see.

Modest Proposals for Reform

The republic deserves better than this. Here are a few modest proposals to restore some measure of honesty and responsibility to our political gerontocracy:

Mandatory retirement at 78 for all members of Congress and Supreme Court justices. This would mean the last year someone could run for the Senate would be age 73; for the House, age 76.
Presidential retirement at 78. If a sitting President reaches that age during their term, the Vice President should assume office.
Lower the minimum age to run for President to 32. Why 35, anyway? If you’re old enough to command a drone strike, you’re old enough to command the White House.
Annual cognitive testing starting at age 68 for any sitting President, Supreme Court justice, or member of Congress, with results made public. Transparency, like sunlight, is the best disinfectant.

And What of Donald Trump?

Let us not delude ourselves. The other septuagenarian (now octogenarian) candidate is not immune to the same questions. A similar book could be written—perhaps will be written—about Donald Trump’s own health, mental acuity, and fitness for office. The signs are there, albeit in a different key.

One would hope that, should Trump become clearly unfit for office due to health reasons, the wise and the decent would persuade him to step aside. But hoping for wise and decent behavior in American politics is a bit like hoping the Mississippi River will reverse course out of courtesy.

We are a nation now ruled by its elders, but without the wisdom such a gerontocracy is supposed to confer. Instead, we cling to figureheads and fictions, while truth sits ignored in the wings—sometimes until it’s too late. Original Sin may not be a comfortable read, but it is a necessary one.