This week I realized that to properly revise chapter three, I needed to make some additions to chapter two. So, I’ve been reading more about the role of the YMCA in World War I to more fully explain what was expected of Jane Grant during her overseas posting and how she delivered on those expectations. That means I’ve been toggling between those two chapters to add context and additional details to sharpen the descriptions of Jane’s experiences.
I’ve made progress that seems incremental, especially when I look at how much—or little, really—the word count in each of the chapters has increased. Keeping an eye on the word count is important because I don’t want the manuscript to get bloated. Telling Jane’s story doesn’t require a Big Book in terms of the number of words and pages.
The 1918 poster below features the artwork of Neysa McMein, who also went overseas during the war to entertain the troops. She and Jane were friends.
What I’m Reading
I’m more than halfway through Angela Flournoy’s The Wilderness. It had a strong start, but now I find it very uneven. I’m looking forward to seeing how it all wraps up.
I’m almost done with Gertrude Stein: An Afterlife by Francesca Wade. Stein has died and Toklas, in her grief, is trying to carry out her wishes for her unpublished work and trying to protect her reputation as a pathbreaking author. I really like this book.
Wednesday night’s Vanity Fair Zoom book discussion was fascinating. I can’t wait to find out what the 2027 novel will be.
What I’m Watching
Nothing new in the rotation of Starfleet Academy (Paramount+), Grace and The Game (BritBox), All Creatures (PBS), and The Lincoln Lawyer (Netflix). Down to one episode left of both The Game and All Creatures. It kind of seems like The Lincoln Lawyer may never end, but I’m only at the halfway point. Last week’s Starfleet was one of the better episodes, and I hope this week’s can at least match it.
What Else I’ve Been Doing
I finished my review of the book proposal for an academic press and submitted it before the deadline. So yay me, and yay for the press that will be getting a good book—if that’s how the rest of the process works out.
The weekly bowling took place, the usual two games. Once again it was two pretty mediocre games for me. But this week’s bright spot was that twice in one game I picked up a spare from a split. That was quite astonishing.
A couple of days after I switched out my winter walking boots for regular sneakers (thanks to warmer temperatures and nearly snow-free streets) to take my daily walks, winter sent about 6 inches of snow as a reminder that it’s still, well, winter. Not that I actually packed away the boots for the season….
Thanks for reading. Stay tuned for next week: Are chapters two and three finally revised? Are the winter walking boots still out?
Today is Valentine’s Day, so it’s perhaps fitting that in chapter three of my book about Jane Grant, she meets Harold Ross. He becomes her first husband, and together they create The New Yorker. But that comes later.
In this chapter, Jane is overseas with the YMCA in 1918-1919 doing war work. Both adventurous and practical, she couldn’t wait to get to France. She knew that a few female journalists had managed, despite military restrictions, to get across the Atlantic and file stories about World War I. But the New York Times wouldn’t send her as a reporter, so she applied to one of the government-sanctioned service organizations that hired women for clerical work, nursing, and entertainment. Jane figured she was qualified for two out of those three, and she believed that whatever her posting entailed, it would somehow further her career.
[Jane Grant, c. 1918-1919, Jane Grant papers, University of Oregon]
The Y sent Jane to Tours, France, but her friend and colleague from the Times, Alexander Woollcott, pulled strings to get her to Paris. He had been in the army since 1917, and now, as a sergeant, he worked in Paris on the staff of the American Expeditionary Forces’ Stars and Stripes. Jane easily fell in with that newspaper crowd, and it was Woollcott who introduced her to Ross, editor of the publication. It was not love at first sight, but the attraction was strong enough to induce Ross to take a job in New York City after the war to be near Jane.
This chapter revision is ongoing. There is less to weed out, and more to weave in.
What I’m Reading
I started a novel, The Wilderness, by Angela Flournoy. Good so far. I read her first, The Turner House, back in 2016, and I noted this on Goodreads: This is a lovely, lovely novel. Set in contemporary Detroit, it tells the tale of a large family still dealing with the death of the patriarch and with the rapid decline of the matriarch. The fate of the family home, which has fallen into considerable disrepair, is a point of contention among the 13 siblings. And there’s a haint. Wonderful.
I’m continuing with Gertrude Stein: An Afterlife by Francesca Wade and Lorissa Rinehart’s Winning the Earthquake. I can’t renew the Stein biography, so I have to make sure that takes precedence during my reading time. I’m pretty sure the only thing of Stein’s I’ve read is The Autobiography of Alice B. Toklas, and probably only selections from it, a long, long time ago. I doubt that I would have much patience for her modern, experimental work.
I finally finished Vanity Fair, and I’m very glad. I’m participating in a Zoom book discussion this coming Wednesday night.
What I’m Watching
Starfleet Academy (Paramount+), Grace (BritBox), All Creatures (PBS), and The Lincoln Lawyer (Netflix) remain in rotation. I still like Grace the best—good storylines and an efficient use of the 90-minute format. I also started The Game, also on BritBox, which has more thriller elements than I like, but the acting is good and there are only four episodes, so I think I can see it through.
What Else I’ve Been Doing
I made progress on my review of a book proposal for an academic press, so I remain on track to meet the deadline.
The weekly bowling took place, the usual two games. Overall, I rolled pretty mediocre. But there was a bright spot: I made three spares in a row, which I kind thought might be referred to as a chicken. It made sense to me since three strikes in a row is a turkey, and I figured a chicken was the next bird down, size-wise. When I finally remembered to look it up, I learned to my absolute delight that three spares in a row are called a sparrow. Perfection!
Happy Valentine’s Day! (to those who celebrate)
Thanks for reading. Check back next week to see how far the chapter three revisions have progressed.
I finished revisions on chapter two. Finally, progress.
The challenge was to take two rough chapters and combine them into one. I find it difficult to jettison material (though I safely store it in a scrap file, just in case), whether it’s from primary or secondary sources, because it interested me enough to include it in the first draft.
But what interests me doesn’t always serve the story. The story I need to tell in this chapter is about Jane Grant’s first years of working at the New York Times. She was in her 20s and still harbored hopes of a singing career. Jane viewed the job at the Times as a means to an end, a way to support herself while she went out on auditions and took on performing gigs. Key to the chapter is how and why Jane became a journalist.
Now that I have that all set up, I’m getting ready to move on to the third chapter, which highlights another pivotal point in Jane’s life: working overseas for the YMCA during World War I. A lot of revisions will go into this, too, because I also spread these events over two draft chapters. Does the story require all of that material, all of those pages? That’s what I’m going to be working through. Luckily, I’ve had a lot of recent practice.
What I’m Reading
Many of the books on my library hold list come from reading Nancy Bekofske’s blog The Literate Quilter. She reviews a variety of fiction and nonfiction, even poetry. It’s a great way to keep up with forthcoming and recent publications.
I finished Palace of Deception: Museum Men and the Rise of Scientific Racism by Darrin Lunde and liked it well enough, especially the behind-the-scenes stories of how museums acquire collections. Lunde is also very good at delving into the characters of these museum men. But because of my own particular interests, I found myself more drawn to the women who, in this telling, existed on the periphery of these events.
I started Gertrude Stein: An Afterlife by Francesca Wade. The first sentences of the prologue are stunning: “She came to Paris, she said, to kill the nineteenth century. Her weapons were a pencil and a supply of softcover notebooks, her targets dullness and cliché. She chopped off her long coils of hair and dispensed with punctuation….” There is Stein, fully alive, confident in her importance. Moreover, a casual look at the notes section of the book reveals an impressive amount of archival sources and ample citations for quotes and other information found in the text. Wade also discusses some of the process of her research in her acknowledgements. These are the kinds of things I regularly look at in nonfiction books.
I continue to read Lorissa Rinehart’s Winning the Earthquake: How Jeannette Rankin Defied All Odds to Become the First Woman in Congress. Consider these first sentences: “Her water broke. Mary, the family cook, helped her into bed. Besides Mary, Olive Rankin was alone on the ranch situated in Grant Creek Valley, some six thousand feet above Missoula, Montana.” And the beginning of the third paragraph: “Between contractions, Olive tried to focus on the wildflowers painting the mountainsides. White yarrow and purple lupine.” It’s all very evocative, but my first thought was, “How do we know?” The notes section doesn’t provide an answer. The information may have come from a previous biography of Rankin written by the late Norma Smith and published in 2002. Or Rinehart may have imagined the scene, leaning into creative nonfiction. I always prefer a sharp delineation between fact and imagination.
I’m still reading Vanity Fair. Still. But I’m closing in on the end.
What I’m Watching
The final episodes of Shetland and Bookish were both good, though I like the Shetland series more than Bookish. Maybe it’s because of a familiarity with the characters. But Bookish seemed a bit tentative about where it was going and what it wants to be. Still, I’m willing to watch the next season.
My ambivalence about Starfleet Academy continues. All Creatures Great and Small remains a good comfort watch, though I wish the female characters had better storylines.
New seasons of Grace (BritBox) and The Lincoln Lawyer (Netflix) have moved into my rotation. I appreciate that Grace solves one crime per 90-minute episode. The Lincoln Lawyer is going to be a tense season, with Mickey Haller in jail awaiting his murder trial.
I also saw Agatha and the Truth of Murder (Prime), a re-imagining of what happened during Agatha Christie’s disappearance in the 1920s. I liked it.
What Else I’ve Been Doing
I was asked by an academic press to review a book proposal, and I need to finish that before the end of February. This is not the kind of deadline that can be elastic. It’s not fair to keep a hopeful author waiting any longer than necessary.
Happy Super Bowl Sunday to all who celebrate. May your favorite team win. And happy Olympics viewing, too.
Thanks for reading. Find out next week how chapter three is coming along.
I spent all week revising a chapter of Invisible Me, and I haven’t finished yet. Writing is always about revising, so I know how important this part is. And it’s only the first revision. There will likely be more.
This one is going particularly slow because I’m actually cutting and condensing material from two draft chapters to turn them into a single sparkling one. And I’m still thinking a lot about style, which is now something I look at very closely when I’m reading a work of nonfiction.
It took about the first half of the week to get a sense of where this new chapter needed to go and how to get it there. My goal is to have it finished at the end of this coming week.
After that, I know I will have a day or two of feeling optimistic that the rest of the chapter revisions will proceed more smoothly and quickly. Then, of course…. Sigh.
What I’m Reading
I’m almost finished with Palace of Deception: Museum Men and the Rise of Scientific Racism by Darrin Lunde. I started Lorissa Rinehart’s Winning the Earthquake: How Jeannette Rankin Defied All Odds to Become the First Woman in Congress. Rankin is one of my favorite women in American history, and I was happy to see this new biography.
I’m still reading Vanity Fair.
I forgot to mention that I read and loved Palaver, the new novel by Bryan Washington about a mother and her son.
In addition to books, which I prefer to read in the pages-between-two-covers form, I do read a variety of online things, including Pamela Toler’s History in the Margins for its explorations of those almost hidden corners. I especially liked her recent piece about the 20th-century artist Neysa McMein, who also happened to be a friend of Jane Grant.
Every morning, I read Letters from an American, Heather Cox Richardson’s daily explanation of current events.
What I’m Watching
I’m one episode in on Netflix’s Seven Dials, an Agatha Christie mystery. Good so far.
This week’s penultimate episode of Shetland ended with a couple of big yikes. I kind of saw one coming, but not the other. So it’s pins and needles until Thursday, when the finale airs.
I watched Eleanor the Great on Netflix. The performances were wonderful, especially June Squibb in the title role, but the plot resolution was too convenient.
What Else I’ve Been Doing
I gave a zoom talk to the Baltimore Civil War Round Table about Dr. Mary Walker, the only woman to receive the Medal of Honor, about her medical work during the Civil War. My book, Dr. Mary Walker’s Civil War, was published back in 2020, and it’s nice to know there is continuing interest in her story.
I met with my monthly women’s biography round table of the Biographers International Organization. I’ve been with this wonderful group for a few years, and every month we talk about our writing and give each other advice and encouragement. We all focus on “unknown” or “once known” women in history, so we all very much get each other.
Daily exercising has been limited to the portable elliptical machine because of the brutally cold weather. Wisconsin escaped the big snow that blanketed other parts of the country but got socked with below-zero temperatures that brought ever colder windchills. That’s finally started to ease up.
No sewing this week, though I continue to stare at the in-progress project that’s sitting on the machine, and I think about returning to it. I’m feeling some positive can-do vibes because of the return of Marie Hill, the best sewing instructor on YouTube. I found her channel, My Bucolic Life, a few years ago, and it encouraged me to get back into sewing. There are over 200 excellent tutorials on her channel.
The weekly bowling outing was fun, though I still struggle to break 100. So, no, I’m not a good bowler.
(Not me bowling. She may actually be a good bowler.)
Thanks for reading! Check back next week to find out what kind of progress I’ve made on the revisions. I know, I know, it’s very exciting.
This may be a first for my annual list of nonfiction favorites, but it’s certainly not surprising. All fifteen of the books listed below, plus a bonus title, were written by women. And all fifteen are about women. Unusual and a bit surprising: I read several memoirs.
In my last post I mentioned that I sometimes forget to log my books on Goodreads, which makes tallying up a year’s worth of reading inexact. I’m leading the 2025 list with my most embarrassing omission from last year because I can’t bear for everyone not to know that it’s one of my favorite works of nonfiction. The rest are listed roughly in the order in which I read them.
1. The Dragon from Chicago: The Untold Story of an American Reporter in Nazi Germany by Pamela D. Toler. This is an excellent and much needed biography of Sigrid Schultz, the Chicago Tribune’s bureau chief and foreign correspondent in Central Europe who warned about the dangers of Adolf Hitler and Nazism. The book received starred reviews from Publishers Weekly and Kirkus Reviews, and it was a finalist for the Los Angeles Times’s 2024 Book Prize in Biography.
2. The Icon and the Idealist: Margaret Sanger, Mary Ware Dennett, and the Rivalry That Brought Birth Control to America by Stephanie Gorton. A first-rate dual biography of two of the most important birth control activists in United States history. Sanger’s name is the more familiar of the two, but Gorton convincingly demonstrates that Dennett deserves just as much attention. I’ve long been a huge fan of Dennett so was particularly pleased to see her in the limelight. And she’s the subject of an Ogden Nash poem, probably the only verse I know by heart.
I for one Think the country would be better run, If Mary Ware Dennett Explained things to the Senate.
3. The Many Lives of Anne Frank by Ruth Franklin. I first read The Diary of a Young Girl in a grade school English class. Over the years, I’ve read the expanded versions as well as books about Frank, her family, and the people who made the Secret Annex possible. Franklin combines a well-written biography of Anne Frank with investigations into the various forms of the diary, the ways in which it has been dramatized for stage and screen, and how Frank has become a fictional character in the works of other authors. Fascinating all the way through.
4. Tell Me a Story Where the Bad Girl Wins: The Life and Art of Barbara Shermund by Caitlin McGurk. This biography wins Best Title of the Year, at least as far as me and my list are concerned. Who wouldn’t want to hear that story? And McGurk has done a marvelous job of situating artist Shermund in her proper place in the history of American illustrators and cartoonists. I was especially intrigued with Shermund’s work for The New Yorker during its early years, when Jane Grant was still around. The two women probably had a lot in common.
5. After Lives: On Biography and the Mysteries of the Human Heart by Megan Marshall. These essays, by a genius biographer, blend memoir with craft advice. It’s all beautifully written and inspiring.
6. Wifedom: Mrs. Orwell’s Invisible Life by Anna Funder. Wow, wow, wow. An insightful, incisive biography of Eileen O’Shaughnessy, who married George Orwell. Funder shows exactly what O’Shaughnessy contributed to the artistic success of Orwell and explores how and why she was pretty much written out of the biographies of the author. The book has made a huge impact on how I view Jane Grant.
7. Dust and Light: On the Art of Fact in Fiction by Andrea Barrett. I adore Barrett’s fiction, and I loved her take on novelists’ use of history in their (and her own) work. Beautiful.
8. The Trouble of Color: An American Family Memoir by Martha S. Jones. Jones is a brilliant historian, and she has deployed her formidable skills to answer a personal question for herself: “Who do you think you are?” Her search takes her through her family’s history, which included enslavement, as she grapples with the meaning of color in the lives of her ancestors—and herself.
9. The Last American Road Trip: A Memoir by Sarah Kendzior. A family memoir of a different kind, Kendzior looks at politics and society in America, past and present, through road trips she takes with her family during the pandemic years. I admired the gorgeous writing, the strong sense of place, and the whiffs of nostalgia infused with a bit of hopefulness.
10. Marion Greenwood: Portrait and Self-Portrait—A Biography by Joanne B. Mulcahy. This biography focuses on all the things I’m drawn to in this genre: a once well-known woman, incredibly smart and talented, whose political beliefs led her to live an unconventional life, who somehow disappears from history. Greenwood, a devotee of social realism, painted some of the most stunning murals and portraits in the first half of the twentieth century. Mulcahy, with her usual elegant prose, reminds us why it’s still important to know about her.
11. Birding to Change the World: A Memoir by Trish O’Kane. Originally an investigative journalist, O’Kane switched careers after Hurricane Katrina upended her life. She developed an interest in birds, enrolled in an environmental studies Ph.D. program, and embarked on a social justice campaign to save a local park from over-development. O’Kane’s passion and dedication shine through—for her academic work and love of learning, her community and its people, and the many species of birds she encounters.
12. Foreign Fruit: A Personal History of the Orange by Katie Goh. Goh traces the history of the orange as she untangles the strands of her multi-cultural heritage. She travels from Ireland to China and Malaysia to connect with far flung family members, seeking answers about her identity. The orange, with its own complicated history, gives her grounding and perspective. I liked this unique approach to memoir.
13. The Girl in the Middle: A Recovered History of the American West by Martha A. Sandweiss. The presence of a Native American girl, Sophie Mousseau, in an 1868 photograph taken at Fort Laramie is Sandweiss’s jumping off point for this meticulous work of history about post-Civil War America and westward expansion. It’s a densely packed story, and Sandweiss’s other real-life characters, including photographer Alexander Gardner and Union general William S. Harney, occupy much of the narrative. But Mousseau is a constant, almost haunting presence, at the heart of the story.
14. Sisters of Influence: A Biography of Zina, Amy, and Rose Fay by Andrea Friederici Ross. During the Victorian era, known for its constraints on women’s behavior, these three sisters pushed at the boundaries of those expectations to make names for themselves in music, writing, and domestic reform. It’s an absorbing family biography, and Ross calmly and ably juggles all the different personalities.
15. Joyride: A Memoir by Susan Orlean. I’m a fan of Orlean but not a super fan. I haven’t read everything she’s written but I liked The Library Book and many of her articles. Reading this memoir provides the sense of exhilaration portrayed on the book’s cover. I was fascinated by how Orlean carved out a career as a writer and enjoyed the snippets of her personal life that she included.
Bonus book:
How to Write a Bestseller: An Insider’s Guide to Writing Narrative Nonfiction for General Audiences by Tilar J. Mazzeo. A former academic who has written bestsellers, and Mazzeo provides practical advice to narrative nonfiction writers, especially those who want to move away from scholarly writing. It’s one of the most helpful how-to writing books I’ve read in a long time.
And one final kind of quirky thing about my 2025 reading. In a previous post I wrote about how much I liked Debby Applegate’s Madam: The Biography of Polly Adler, Icon of the Jazz Age, but had to stop reading it because it invaded too much of my head space while I was drafting my book about Jane Grant. Well, that happened again. This time I set aside The Aviator and the Showman: Amelia Earhart, George Putnam, and the Marriage that Made an American Icon, Laurie Gwen Shapiro’s latest book. It’s terrific, but Shapiro’s voice is so strong that the book is now sitting on the shelf next to Madam, where they will stay until I’m much further along with Jane. (At least I didn’t put them in the freezer, which was Joey Tribianni’s solution to troublesome books.)
To all of you who made it this far, thanks for reading. I hope you encounter loads of good books in 2026 that take you on your own joyride.
Theresa Kaminski 
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