Allen Iverson book tour advertisement outside of the Buckhead Theatre, Sunday, Oct. 19, 2025. Photo by Donnell Suggs/The Atlanta Voice
The interior of the Buckhead Theatre was plastered with photos of former All-NBA guard Allen Iverson’s face. There were photos from his playing career, Reebok endorsement days, and from the many magazine shoots he took part in. Iverson was scheduled to be in town for business on Sunday night, and fans were there to greet him.
Copies of “Misunderstood” were on sale at a table being manned by Black female-owned bookstore, Brave + Kind. Photo by Donnell Suggs/The Atlanta Voice
Iverson, a Naismith Hall of Famer and 11-time NBA All-Star, is currently on tour with his new memoir, “Misunderstood.” The book is a collaboration with lawyer and West Philadelphia native Ray Beauchamp. The tour has already made stops in New York, New Jersey, Washington, D.C., and New Orleans.
“I never won a championship, but I’m the people’s champ,” said Iverson, who is currently Reebok’s President of Basketball, after greeting the event host, rapper Tip “T.I.” Harris.
Fans wore their Iverson jerseys and hoodies for the special occassion. Photo by Donnell Suggs/The Atlanta Voice
When he looked out into the crowd, Iverson had to feel like the people’s choice. Men, women, and children wore jerseys from his time with the Philadelphia 76ers, the Georgetown University Hoyas, while one man wore one from Iverson’s All-American career at Bethel High School.
Before Iverson and Harris took the stage, the music w
as blasting and the VIP section was filling up. Copies of “Misunderstood” were being sold by Black woman-owned bookstore, Brave + Kind, and people stopped by the step-and-repeat to take selfies.
On the reason why he decided to write a memoir, Iverson said he had things on his mind that he wanted to get off. His post-career life has been interesting, good, and bad, according to his words.
“I didn’t cut no corners. I’m an open book,” Iverson said.
Photo by Donnell Suggs/The Atlanta Voice
Iverson used the word “turbulent” when describing his journey from his native Virginia to the National Basketball League to the stage he sat on in Atlanta on Sunday night.
“One of the reasons was it was more confirmation that the devil is a sucker,” Iverson said on why he decided to put the book out. “I believe in God, and I just wanted to give the world a gift from me.”
During their time on stage, Harris praised Iverson as a cultural icon on and off the court.
“On the outside looking in, we observe our favorite people go through things, but this book is a deeper look,” Harris said about “Misunderstood”.
Iverson said he hopes his story helps someone. During his career and on this current book tour, he has heard from people that his style of play has helped motivate them.
“If I can help one person in life, I did my job,” Iverson said. “This book is just a confession of me being just like everybody in this room.”
Britney Spears’ Ex Talks About Their Divorce Settlement
The former backup dancer is releasing a new memoir, You Thought You Knew, on Oct. 21, and revealed details about his relationship with the pop star, their children, and their divorce.
Britney and Kevin were married in September 2004. Britney filed for divorce in November 2006. Over the course of their marriage, they had two sons, Sean Preston, 20, and Jayden James, 19.
However, they’re not Kevin’s only children. Immediately before his relationship with Britney, Kevin was engaged to actor Shar Jackson. They had welcomed two children, a daughter, Kori Madison, 23, and a son, Kaleb Michael Jackson, 21.
In 2008, Kevin was granted sole custody of his kids with Britney after she was placed under a conservatorship that lasted until 2021.
According to People, in Kevin’s memoir, he claimed that he paid $20,000 per month in child support for Sean Preston and Jayden James. They also report that he said he was awarded an additional $20,000 per month in alimony for 13 months of their 26-month marriage. He reportedly received a settlement from the divorce as well, but the amount was undisclosed.
The publication continued that Kevin shared in his book that his prenuptial agreement with Britney was “pretty standard.” He claimed they only needed the agreement because he “wasn’t some bum just sitting around waiting for a check.” According to Kevin, he “was out there hustling, grinding, investing [and] working.”
The hustling and grinding included endeavors like releasing the single “PopoZāo,” which received such poor reviews that it wasn’t included on his debut album in 2006. Kevin also had several appearances in the WWE.
He did Las Vegas club appearances in 2007 and was featured on the cover of Details magazine. He also had a few guest spots on TV shows and movies like One Tree Hill (2008) and American Pie Presents: The Book of Love (2009).
Talking about his divorce settlement with Britney, Kevin said, per People, “People hear figures like that and think you’re financially set. But the reality is far from that.” He explained that the expenses for raising two kids in LA with rent, transportation, security, and childcare didn’t necessarily allow the funds to “stretch as far as you’d think.”
He explained that “raising two young boys [Sean Preston and Jayden James] in Los Angeles, while maintaining the security and stability they needed, came with a price tag that would make anyone’s head spin.”
In the wake of Kevin promoting his book, a representative for Britney spoke out against other claims Kevin made against the “Toxic” singer. “With news from Kevin’s book breaking, once again he and others are profiting off her, and sadly it comes after child support has ended with Kevin…All she cares about are her kids, Sean Preston and Jayden James and their well-being during this sensationalism. She detailed her journey in her memoir,” the rep said in a statement shared with E! News.
Britney also responded to claims Kevin made against her in a series of X posts. On Oct. 15, she wrote, “The constant gaslighting from ex-husband is extremely hurtful and exhausting. I have always pleaded and screamed to have a life with my boys. Relationships with teenage boys is complex. I have felt demoralized by this situation and have always asked and almost begged for them to be a part of my life.”
On the same day, Kevin explained to the Hollywood Reporter what his intentions are for writing the memoir. He said, “My story’s been told by everybody else through a different lens for 20 years, and I felt that it is time for me to tell my story,” he explained. “That’s what it is, right? I wanted to wait. I waited until my kids were old enough and waited so I can gain a really good perspective and reflect. And now is the time, right? And that’s what it is. This book is for my children’s future.”
On Oct. 16, Britney shared a follow-up post, saying, “I 100 percent beg to differ the way [Kevin] is literally attacking me in his interviews. If truth be told the man in the interview went STRAIGHT TO the SOURCE and said it CLEAR AS DAY … no money from Britney for 5 years you trying to get paid that’s what general America is saying weird you both have moved on… your kids are adults it’s a different world now … why is HE SO ANGRY … and what’s scary is he’s convincing.”
As Kevin’s memoir is set to be released on Oct. 21, we’ll keep you updated as we learn more.
Fiction has a way of probing the reality of a particular moment in history that you can’t always get from pure fact. Whether it’s a tale of historical fiction or something altogether imagined but imbued with political truth, the best political novels tend to resonate on a deep emotional level, affecting the reader and imparting a sense of the stakes beyond what can be gleaned from mere dates, figures and even the events themselves.
To that end, here’s a brief list of must-read political novels from the past hundred years that have something vital to impart about the world we live in today. They span a range of countries and contexts, but all address the world’s most looming issues in unique and engaging ways. This list is by no means intended to be comprehensive, so feel free to let us know what essential titles we’ve missed.
We may receive an affiliate commission from anything you buy from this article.
In his memoir, “Vagabond” (to be published Oct. 21 by Grand Central), actor Tim Curry, renowned for such fan favorites as “The Rocky Horror Picture Show” and “Clue,” writes of a multitude of journeys in his life pursuing various channels of creative expression (often in the guise of an irresistible villain), and of the 2012 stroke that nearly ended this vagabond’s adventures.
Read an excerpt below, and don’t miss Ben Mankiewicz’s interview with Tim Curry on “CBS Sunday Morning” October 19!
Prefer to listen? Audible has a 30-day free trial available right now.
Introduction
“Honey, you’re the third Tim Curry to call today,” she said, and hung up the phone.
It was the spring of 1976. By an extraordinary coincidence, I had recently moved into a great apartment right behind the Waverly cinema, in New York’s Greenwich Village. The Waverly was the flagship of several key venues that were experiencing success with a little film called The Rocky Horror Picture Show, whose new life had only just taken off.
I’d been in the stage adaptation, and we’d had an extraordinary run in London and Los Angeles. But when the film was released in 1975, it had bombed rather spectacularly. Less than a year later, it was going through a sort of renaissance, due to some genius marketing and raucous audience participation.
Naturally, I was curious, however hesitant, about this new incarnation. I’d called a day ahead of time, to let them know that I was a member of the cast and to ask if they would be so kind as to reserve a few tickets for my friends and me.
“And who are you?” the woman asked. Her accent was rather aggressive and I caught the distinct whiff of exaggerated boredom in her tone.
“This is Tim Curry.”
That was when I was informed of the previous two Tims. The receiver dinged, and the line went dead.
I stared at the phone, both bemused and irate by her response. Ultimately, my friends and I showed up anyway (with identification). We didn’t wear special costumes or anything like that — I’m not inclined to do so unless it’s required or earned. Luckily, as much renewed success as the show was now having, it wasn’t terribly difficult to get tickets. We went in and sat toward the back of the theater. I was far more interested in viewing the spectacle than in participating, and the crowd’s engagement was a true delight to behold.
Before long, people started noticing me. A group of girls came up to my seat, giggling, touched my arm or leg, then tittered as they dispersed. It was all rather surreal, especially with the film, the fevered audience participation, and the all-too- familiar music carrying on in the background.
Unintentionally, I’d created a stir among the already animated audience. About a half hour into the film, the woman from the ticket booth of the Waverly — a slightly bedraggled, very unlikely blonde — hustled down the aisle and pulled me out of my seat.
“You are an imposter,” she hissed. “You must leave. You’re a nightmare! And you are not Tim Curry at all — you don’t even look like him!” She pointed at the screen, her long red fingernail trembling with emphasis.
I stood up slowly and, with a mixture of embarrassment and triumph (neither of which were particularly founded), I handed her my passport.
She snatched it, squinted at the photo, looked back at my face, then back at the passport. In the flickering light, I watched her haughty expression collapse. Speechless, she seemed to sort of melt in front of me, evoking a wicked witch who had been assaulted by a bucket of water.
Aware I was now on a stage of sorts, I steadied myself and waited for her response.
“Ohhh my God. Oh, Mr. Curry. I didn’t … Please just … please sit down.”
I took my passport back and gestured to my friends.
“I wouldn’t dream of it!” I said, and promptly strode out of the cinema.
By definition — as one who has professionally pretended or masqueraded onstage, onscreen, and into a microphone — there is an argument to be made that I have been a career imposter for most of my life.
But if you ask me, there’s a much better word for my vocation and identity, a word that carries me back to my earliest days.
Vagabond.
Vagabonds rove. We travel about and pick up work wherever we go. We wander, drift, stagger, wink. Reluctant to be pinned down, we’re enticed by risk, restless if we linger, fueled by curiosity and a sense of wonder.
Vagabonds learn, often from a young age, that indeed time is fleeting. As is fame — a fairly worthless pursuit, really. We are less startled by life’s unpredictable shifts than those who choose to remain safe and settled. We often practice our trade in varied locations.
Those of us with itinerant upbringings or similar proclivities often have no choice but to adapt and reinvent ourselves. Over and over and over again. We rely on charming exteriors and don’t mind saying so, leading us to project an inflated sense of self-confidence. We feel deeply but are perhaps less inclined to express our true selves to others — because our relationships so often prove to be ephemeral.
Of course, these qualities don’t apply to all vagabonds. I’m not sure they’ll apply to me tomorrow. But it feels about right today.
In Shakespearean times, people of the stage were considered rogues and vagabonds. I always rather liked that. I presume that such labels came about because of actors assuming manifold identities, traveling from one town to the next in pursuit of new audiences and a bit of coin here and there. How can you trust somebody, or truly know somebody, who appears as a king one day and a jester the next? What does it mean when neither role is the true identity of the person, and when that very person might be gone the next day? These entertainers with ever-changing faces and varied costumes were presumed to be scoundrels, not regarded as honorable or honest members of society.
That part doesn’t define me, of course.
I’m very trustworthy.
You believe me, don’t you?
Over the course of my life, my vagabond blues, hopes, and highs have found their way into varied channels of expression, different creative boxes from which flashes of my real self could emerge. Through my songs. Delivered upon the stage. Exhibited on screens. Cultivated in my homes and gardens. Re-envisioned, attached to, and filtered through more voices and personas than I can recall.
Much of this book has involved returning to those characters, the ones who defined my professional life. As there is a piece of me who either exists in or understands each of the roles we’ll be revisiting, surveying them together will hopefully yield a colorful, curious mosaic of who I am, beneath the cosmetics and costumes.
Looking in the rearview mirror is neither my instinct nor my preferred way of being. I’d rather get on with it and keep moving forward. I have never been one to dwell on past performances any more than is required. I do not snatch memorabilia from my films to keep it displayed around my house like glistening ashes. I find little reward lingering in nostalgia. Living gig to gig for the better (and worse) part of half a century, I have grown accustomed to appreciating and accepting lessons offered, then looking forward to the next challenge.
That’s the vagabond’s way.
And yet, it hasn’t escaped my notice that others have jumped at the opportunity to make their own assumptions. I have been described as everything from a confounding sex symbol, to a home designer, to a rock ‘n’ roll singer, to an imposter, to the prince of Halloween, to a paralyzed tragic case, to a dead legend.
Contrary to village gossip, I am still very much alive.
So, while that remains the case, I believe it’s my turn — and my privilege — to malign my own reputation.
Why expose myself now? After all, I’m quite comfortable in the shade, and it would be easy enough to remain there. But with time, the thought of sharing my story stayed on my mind and felt just risky enough to intrigue me as a creative pursuit. I’ve also developed increasing respect for the characters I’ve played over the course of my life, characters about whom I’ve spent no small amount of time answering (and avoiding) questions.
More than anything, the challenges presented to me by being alive, by the pandemic, and by sundry health issues have offered an appalling amount of time to reflect. Strewn amid those reflections has been a recurring fantastical notion: Maybe it’s time to write my story. Before I could even finish musing about what that might mean, self-doubt had persistently reared up, chuckling malevolently: You’ve got a nerve.
I’m prone to heed that voice, which has so often intervened, posing the deceptively simple question: Who do you think you are?
However, as loud and obstructive as that voice has been throughout my life, generations of you (yes, you) have continued to flatter me with curiosity and kind attention. In doing so, you have given me permission to mute my self-deprecating instincts — or at least to hold them at bay.
Today, I am physically unable to take you on a vigorous vagabond’s adventure, due to a stroke I endured in 2012 that has limited my capacity as an active tour guide. But my mind and most of my memories have remained intact, and within them exist a multitude of journeys perhaps worth sharing. Before I can no longer be bothered to recount them, I humbly invite you into my stories of living across various environments: seaside living, country living, city living; on the road, on the stage, crossing borders and blurring them, ever in a vagabond state. I’ve loved inhabiting most of those settings, and — with some notable exceptions — enjoy remembering the times I’ve had.
You should know what you’re in for, however.
I’d hate to leave you dissatisfied.
Before we raise the curtains, before the elevator descends, know this:
This will not be a master class. I have stories to impart, not explicit lessons to teach. You may glean profound takeaways from where I’ve been, how I got there, whom I’ve met, what I’ve done, or how I finagled my way into repeatedly being cast as an irresistible villain. Even so, my words are not meant to serve as instructions on how to act, sing, become a voiceover artist, or remain resilient in the face of unforeseen physical hardship. In part, because I do not believe that I have mastered any of those things. Furthermore, since I was a young boy, I’ve been dubious of anyone who claims to be an authority. Far be it for me to adopt an expert’s stance now.
I must also warn (or assure) you that while there are scraps of my nature in all of my characters, I am none of them. That sentence feels too ludicrously obvious to put in writing, but the distinctions between who I really am and who I’ve pretended to be as an actor have proven to be a source of great disappointment to some audiences. It has not caused me much personal distress, beyond the periodic necessity to deter stalkers.
Nor will this be a juicy Hollywood tell-all. Not because my moral compass won’t allow it, or because I haven’t had ample run-ins with juicy celebrities — but simply because I find such books immensely dull and highly susceptible to gathering dust.
I also won’t be dishing out lurid details of my love affairs. I guarantee you, if it matters, that I have experienced true love, true heartbreak, and everything in between, including no small amount of wreckage. Which, naturally, helps inform who I am. I have loved and been loved and I hope you have, too. But I’m not interested in your romances. And specifics about my affairs of the heart or the bedroom are — respectfully — none of your f***ing business.
With those caveats taken care of, I sincerely hope you enjoy the escapades, illusions, and contradictions I’ve collected recklessly over the course of my vagabond days.
I trust you’re now shivering with antici – I’ll play along; I’ll SAY IT – pation …
It has been another banner year for literary horror. Somehow, as the world gets scarier, the writers penning our nightmares still manage to keep up. What follows is merely a sprinkling — a light blood spatter — of the new horror novels that kept us awake for all the right reasons this year. From techno terrors to rural cannibalism, angelic visitations to squirmy alien sex, there is something for every spooky vibe — into the Halloween season and beyond.
Photo:
Wake Up and Open Your Eyes, by Clay McLeod Chapman
Remember back in January, when we all worried how bad the political landscape could get in 2025? And then it even surprised the most pessimistic of us? Well, it didn’t surprise Clay McLeod Chapman. Wake Up and Open Your Eyes is an allegory of polarization and media saturation, in which right-wing viral media spreads demonic possession like a plague. Communities are ripped apart, families are trapped in a downward doom spiral, and a certain encounter between an infected mother and her son proves that nothing left is sacred. At times grim, at others gleefully disgusting, Chapman’s latest is a state-of-the-nation address written in blood.
Susan Barker has a gift for the kaleidoscopic novel. Her debut, Sayonara Bar, flickers around the characters frequenting a Japanese hostess lounge, while The Incarnationstraces a single soul across a thousand years. In Old Soul, Barker has adapted the novel-as-stories form to truly frightening effect. A series of uncanny, globe-spanning deaths is linked by the presence of an enigmatic woman. As the haunted protagonist, Jake, tracks her across continents and centuries, he gradually unveils a curse of cosmic proportions. Old Soul is a novel of great variety, leaping from the gothic dampness of rural Wales to the sun-bleached Mojave to the urban gleam of Japan, but the connective tissue thrums with uncanny currents. It’s a quiet, unsettling triumph.
The Lamb is a rare and welcome word-of-mouth success from England’s neglected north. Set in an isolated stretch of the Lake District, it revolves around the deeply unhealthy relationship between young Margot, her domineering mother, and their unwilling food source. The scenes of cannibalism are queasily effective — even appetizing in the most unsettling way — but it’s Margot’s isolation and loneliness that leaves the sourest taste in your mouth. Lucy Rose excels at capturing the beautiful imprisonment of rural English life, and her writing flits between graphic horror and fablelike impressionism, both necessary registers for the battle between nature and nurture at the core of the book. It’s a stunning debut and a landmark of regional British genre fiction.
Sometimes horror readers just want to have fun. What fun means depends entirely on your personal tolerances, of course, but if you can see the funny side of family annihilation, infanticide, and vicious cruelty, then Virginia Feito’s Victorian Psycho is the book for you. When Winifred Notty accepts the role of governess to the Pound family, she begins a campaign of malice that leaves almost everyone dead. The title (and description) may suggest an allusion to Bret Easton Ellis’s American Psycho, but Feito has done much more than transpose that ’90s controversy to a period setting. She’s written a much lighter, less grueling book than Ellis’s, but it’s nonetheless substantial enough to address the misogyny, inequality, and patriarchal exploitation that seems to have spanned the centuries intact. You’ll read it in a day, and you may need to take a shower afterward — but you’ll have fun watching Winifred do her worst.
The Buffalo Hunter Hunter, by Stephen Graham Jones
“I am America’s worst nightmare: The Indian who wouldn’t die.” Thus speaks Good Stab, the Blackfeet narrator at the heart of Stephen Graham Jones’s epic novel of blood, vengeance, and genocide. With all of that in play, the vampire may seem hardly necessary, but Jones uses his unique spin on the bloodsucker to trace the hard legacy of Manifest Destiny and the excavation of Indigenous American culture. The book roams in time, from a Lutheran minister’s interview with the vampire in 1912 Montana to a present-day academic study. It’s quintessentially Jones in all its flouted literary rules and structural left turns, but the author’s unique voice has never been better suited to the story he is trying to tell.
After Netflix’s Adolescencedirected mainstream attention to the toxic sludge awaiting young men online, Rekt drives the point home in the most disturbing ways. When Sammy Dominguez turns to the internet to assuage his grief, he stumbles across a website that offers the chance to view the lethal accidents, suicides, and murders befalling people he knows — even when some of them are still alive IRL. As his obsession grows, he’s drawn further into horror in pursuit of the truth of the impossible site. It’s a hypercontemporary cautionary tale about treading too far into online spaces and what the digital word can take from us. Gonzalez has written the darkest novel on this list, and even its trigger warnings should come with trigger warnings. Yet Rekt is so smart, so bleakly funny, and so of-the-moment that it more than earns the right to its depravities.
After two well-received novels (Mary, Nestlings), Nat Cassidy erupted into the forefront of the horror scene in 2025 with this meditation on the nature of fear and the power of childhood imagination. When wannabe actress Jess returns home from an awful diner shift, she encounters a cowering boy and the monstrous creature hell-bent on catching him. What follows is a roaring road trip, a mad cross between Terminator 2 and Stephen King’s Firestarter. But that’s just the beginning. Once the novel has time to take a breath, it undergoes a transformation into a far stranger, more emotional journey than even the most genre-savvy horror fan could anticipate. When the Wolf Comes Home is that rare thing: a true and genuine modern classic.
The mud, blood, and bombardment of the World War I trenches forms the backdrop to the most audacious horror novel of the year. Daniel Kraus’s latest high-concept literary trapeze act follows a band of dishonorable soldiers on a mission to rescue a fallen angel from the mire of no-man’s-land. What ensues is an internal war to match the grander struggle, as each man tussles with his own worst nature in light of what the angel can offer. It’s a hypervivid depiction of war, shorn of any glory — a prose wall of taste, touch, smell, and the worst sights in the world. And it’s all told in one single, winding 300-page sentence. Don’t be put off by the experimentation, though; Kraus’s writing traps the eye just as it repels the senses. Angel Down is very readable and very distressing.
Three young people are invited to the home of a childhood friend. There, they are inducted into a game that will award the winner their greatest desire. The only trouble is the game board itself: a labyrinthine house, with its hundreds of rooms and corridors, haunted by apparitions and prowled by folkloric creatures. Daphne Fama’s most gothic game of hide-and-seek is set against the Philippine’s People Power Revolution of 1986. It’s an original moment through which to refract the gothic’s endless fascination with social anxiety and class upheaval, and a welcome new perspective for horror fiction. House of Monstrous Women starts slow, as befitting a good gothic novel, but once things accelerate, the book embarks on an exhilarating charge to the finish via all manner of hauntings, insects, and monstrous winged things.
Keith Rosson charged onto every horror fan’s must-read list in 2023 after his novel Fever Houseand its sequel received glowing endorsements from the First Family of Horror: Stephen King and Joe Hill. Now, Rosson has followed that rare, raw duo with something even better. Coffin Moon is a ’70s-set vampire novel featuring a version of the undead that is not just the antithesis of the suave and sophisticated Bela Lugosi type, but one that would take great delight in curb-stomping Dracula and stealing his wallet. It’s a revenge novel at heart, in which a PTSD-stricken veteran and his adopted daughter pursue the vampire who has destroyed their family. This simple premise nonetheless hints at a deeper mythology underpinning our everyday life (think John Wick’s assassin subculture, but with fangs). It’s gory and gratuitously violent, but all that blood is pumped through a warm, well-intentioned heart. Just fantastic stuff!
Haunted houses are back, baby! And who better to put a contemporary spin on infested architecture than Rachel Harrison, the doyenne of angsty, millennial horror fiction. Her sixth novel, Play Nice reads like The Amityville Horror through a cursed Instagram filter. When online influencer Clio inherits her childhood home, she welcomes it as a new opportunity for content creation and a chance to confront the half-memories and buried childhood traumas that occurred in the house. As usual, Harrison nimbly walks the line between authentic scares and postmodern humor, but Play Nice gives a little more ventilation to both. Clio’s snark and self-confidence provides levity, but when it switches gear, Play Nice is easily Harrison’s most unsettling book since her debut, The Return. It’s a novel that horror fans will enjoy with a nod of recognition and a wry smile at the stunts Harrison pulls, but it also opens the door wide for visitors to the genre.
The Autumn Springs Retirement Home Massacre, by Philip Fracassi
What if a killer was running amok in an old-folks home? It may sound like little more than a clever spin on the slasher genre or a darkly tinted version of Richard Osman’s megaselling Thursday Murder Club. But as with all Fracassi’s fiction, the neatness of the elevator pitch belies the story’s profound humanity. Autumn Springs is populated by finely wrought individuals, led by the indomitable Rose and her roguish friend Miller. The wider cast includes a movie-obsessed intellectual, an aging beauty with undimmed desires, and a sweet dementia patient anchored to earth by the memory of his dog. The character work elevates this far above your usual slasher or whodunit, and has a lot to say about the threat of solitude always darkening the edges of old age. But at its heart, Autumn Springs is a celebration of love, wisdom, and the value of people too often relegated to the margins of a story.
From the title alone, you might presume that Sarah Gailey’s novel is just a tiny bit horny. You would be right, but you’d probably still underestimate the sheer eccentricity of the eroticism that ensues when scientists on an isolated desert base unearth a long-dormant virus. The infected fall prey to rampant disinhibition, in a sex-positive blend of John Carpenter’s The Thing and ’90s sexploitation sci-fi “classic” Species. But unlike the exclusively male community of the former, and the latter’s heteronormative male gaze, Gaileypresents sexuality as fluid beyond all boundaries. In one taste-establishing scene, the protagonist, Dr. Kinsey, masturbates to images of bacteria. Spread Me offers far more than weird smut, however. It’s a tour de force of weird fiction; a short novel full of body horror that asks important questions about sexual shame and consent, while gleefully provoking some distinctly uncomfortable arousal. Or maybe that’s just me.
It’s hard to synopsize The October Film Haunt in anything less than an essay, so I’ll just list some of the key concepts in play. There’s a cursed avant-garde horror movie that may be an occult ritual. There’s a Slender Man–esque legend with an associated real-world tragedy. There’s a cult of film fans making a movie against the actors’ will. And there’s a demon that may be emerging from celluloid and Reddit pages to possess people. Wehunt has written one of the great internet horror stories, a book for the terminally online, who remember the early days of online legend and forum culture with nostalgia. If you’ve ever delved into the recesses of Wikipedia at 3 a.m., reading about madness and mysticism and things that may or may not be real, The October Film Haunt will tweak your rabbit-hole tendencies. But be warned: This is not an easy book, and it may not be safe. Wehunt blurs reality and fiction, confounds any expectations, and makes you feel like you’re participating in a dark ritual with each turned page.
When Josie returns to her grim British hometown after the fallout of a toxic relationship, she thinks she’s at an all-time low. But the discovery of a woman’s body — and a very strange encounter with the ants colonizing it — soon proves that things can always get worse. There is a lot going on in Itch, but in 300-something pages, Gemma Amor stacks folk horror, body horror, a ’90s-style serial-killer thriller, and a heavy dose of female rage into something satisfying and self-supporting. Nature infects everything, from the woodland murk that surrounds the town to the insects infiltrating Josie’s life, and Amor writes about it all with equal beauty and grotesquerie. Itch is a mad, transgressive triumph, rupturing the membrane between subgenres as effectively as it penetrates the skin of its protagonist.
Joe Hill’s first novel in ten years comes with a lot of expectation. Somehow, it more than exceeds them. King Sorrow is an epic in the manner of the very best ’80s and ’90s horror: expansive, maximalist, a soaring fantastical premise countered by the gravity of the characters. I’m not sure the term horror alone does justice to Hill’s imaginative reach. This 900-page Faustian pact between six young students and an eldritch dragon combines high fantasy, blockbuster action, espionage, politics, and a persistent voltage of romance. But horror connects it all, both in the monsters with wings and those on two legs. There are individual sections of King Sorrow that could stand alone with the best novellas of the year, but it’s the accumulating weight and momentum of the whole that makes this Hill’s masterpiece. He takes an unexpected turn at almost every opportunity, and there is a thrilling sense of character agency, the author merely a guiding hand, a kindly supervisor, allowing his flawed, broken cast to stumble toward some sense of redemption.
Baron George Gordon Byron had become an overnight literary sensation in 1812, and lived accordingly; he spent profligately, abused alcohol and opium, and fornicated indiscriminately with both men and women. Byron slept with Claire because she was there and willing, the biographers say. But why did Claire so desperately want to sleep with Byron? “I don’t think Claire knows about the gay stuff, and he has a reputation as a ladies’ man,” says Gordon. “For her, it’s like sleeping with Mick Jagger.” That her poet-boyfriend was more esteemed and famous than Mary’s was icing on the cake.
Neither woman suspected that their getaway’s central romance would, in fact, be the bromance between Percy and Byron. To be clear, it’s not certain that the two were physically romantic in Geneva: “Whether their genitals touched, I don’t know,” says Gordon. “But they’re fawning all over each other and their ideas.” Ignoring their relative partners, the men took day trips together, sailed and swam, had deep discussions about Napoleon. By the end of the vacation, Bryon was what Gordon calls “heartily sick” of Claire, who was also newly sick herself; she was pregnant with Bryon’s baby.
Dr. John William Polidori: Bryon’s Secretary, Companion, “Personal Physician”
Complicating matters further, Byron had traveled to Geneva with another guest: 21-year-old doctor John Polidori. “Bryon travels with a personal physician, like Michael Jackson,” explains Sampson. The pair’s relationship was volatile and complicated, and some modern-day scholars suspect the perpetually single doctor of being secretly in love with Bryon. Polidori not-so-subtly based the seductive blood-sucking aristocrat in his story, The Vampyre, on the poet. Three years later, the story was published under Byron’s byline.
At the Geneva villa, Byron and Percy mercilessly teased Polidori, giving him the effeminate nickname “Polly-Dolly.” To compensate, perhaps, Polidori wrote endlessly in his diary about Mary, for whom he dramatically jumped off a balcony and sprained his ankle. “Now Polidori’s in love with Mary per se, because really they’re all in love with Byron—except Mary, who’s busy with her six-month-old son and writing her masterpiece,” says Gordon. After shutting him down repeatedly, Mary would leave Geneva at the end of the summer and never again see Polidori—who never married, and died by suspected suicide five years after the trip. So too did Percy’s estranged wife, allowing the Shelleys to finally marry in 1816.
Edward and Jane Williams: Unmarried Couple, Probable Swingers
Frankenstein was published anonymously at first, then again in 1821 by “M.me Shelley”—a shocking abomination, to some, that a woman would write something so dark and grotesque. With Mary Shelley’s reputation at an all-time low, the entourage moved next to Italy. In a relatively small expat community, they met a couple about their age, Edward and Jane Williams. Like the Shelleys and company, their relationship was unconventional: “She’d left an abusive husband to be with Edward, so they weren’t actually married,” says Sampson. Also like many in the Shelleys’ cohort, the Williamses were already exiled—and therefore free to flaunt convention however they saw fit.
I love losing myself in a good book, and I’m not the only one. Finding great gifts for book lovers isn’t just about testing for the best e-reader (which we have!) or rounding up all the accessories worth adding to your Kindle (we’ve done that too), but rather it’s about setting up your favorite reader to keep enjoying stories.
You can help your favorite reader enjoy another story with anything from a new reading gadget and a handy accessory to cozy items to settle in for a nice, long reading session. After all, if there’s anything we’ve learned from the rise of #BookTok, it’s that there’s no lack of accessories and items that can make a reader happier than ever. Here are our favorite gifts for book lovers we’re shopping this season.
Updated October 2025: We’ve reorganized this guide and added new gifts from PopSockets, Strapsicle, BukSuk, Passion Planner, James Wax, East Fork, Beautiful by Drew Barrymore, Eberyjey, and Ugg, plus we’ve included new book sets.
When I got back into reading, I fell in love with ebooks and getting free copies from the library that I would read on my Libby app. That year, for my birthday, I was gifted a Kindle from two different people, and I’ve never looked back. Whether they’re a new reader looking for a better or one who’s complaining about how heavy their books are, an e-reader makes for a great solution (and you can still get those free library books on it!).
Amazon
Kindle Paperwhite (2024, 12th Generation)
If they don’t have a Kindle, the 12th-edition Paperwhite is our favorite one. It’s got a warm front light and great battery life, and it comes in a fun pink color. Upgrade to Signature for an auto-adjusting light and more storage (aka more books!).
Kobo
Libra Color
If they have an e-reader but want the option to use color, the Kobo Libra Color is the best option. It lets them use a range of colors as they read, and you can add on a stylus to turn it into a digital notebook. It’s got page-turner buttons, which are great and something you won’t find on Kindle.
E-Reader Accessories
From cute cases to handy straps that make reading easier, there’s no lack of fun options to add to a Kindle or other e-readers.
PopSockets
PopCase Kindle and PopGrip
PopSockets has a new collection of Kindle cases that have a MagSafe ring, so you can easily pop on a PopSocket grip. The Curled Up With a Good Book design has a matching case and grip you can use together.
Strapsicle
E-Reader Hand Strap
These straps from Strapsicle make it really easy to hold up an e-reader. They’re easy to attach, and I even find just using one of the two straps secures it. The limited-edition neon collection is super fun and worth shopping before it runs out.
The Quirky Cup Collective
E-Reader Sleeves
This stylish sleeve is a great gift to give an e-reader user who loves to take their device on the go. It’ll keep it protected without taking up more space.
Lamicall
Gooseneck iPad Holder
I struggle with a wrist cyst that makes holding up my Kindle for long periods uncomfortable. This tablet holder works great for tablets and e-readers alike, and it lets my book hover over my head hands-free.
Accessories for Physical Book Readers
No e-reader? No problem. These book lights solve the constant struggle for a book reader: darkness getting in the way of their reading.
Vekkia
14 LED Book Light
Our favorite reading light is a super versatile clip-on with an adjustable gooseneck. The two swiveling light bars have seven LEDs each.
Glocusent
LED Neck Reading Light
This lightweight neck light is a great option if your reader might hate clipping something onto the pages. It has three light warmths and six brightness settings.
Book Bags
If the book lover in your life is known for toting their e-reader or book of choice everywhere they go, here are some fun accessories for carrying them around (and for logging their thoughts as they read!).
Hello Clio
The Original Kindle Belt Bag
This cute belt bag isn’t too much wider than a normal one but packs a soft internal pocket made for carrying a Kindle Paperwhite or base Kindle.
New York Public Library
Library Card Tote Bag
This tote bag screams “I love books” in the best way possible. It’s a great size with, nice long straps that make it super comfortable to wear.
Stickers, Journals, and Annotation Tools
Whether they’re looking to decorate their e-reader or the pages of their books, there’s a fun add-on here for every kind of reader.
Strapsicle
Sweet Stickers
Strapsicle recently launched stickers, with both a sweet and spicy pack. It’s a nice-size set that could easily decorate multiple e-readers.
Papier
Reading Journal
If they’re constantly crushing a new read, get them a journal to track everything they’ve read and how they liked it.
Book Tabs
I don’t like primary colors while I annotate my books. This is a similar but much larger pack of book tabs I found at my local Daiso, and the pastel colors are much more pleasing on the eyes as I mark up my book pages.
Passion Planner
Passion Highlighters
I love these highlighters for my paper planners, and they’re a great option for readers who light to highlight their passages. There’s a highlighter and pen end for each color if they like to underline.
Reading Vibes
Gifts for your local book lover aren’t just giving books and book items. Help them set the mood while they read with these cozy gift ideas.
James Wax
Reading Time Candle
The label says it all. Give them a candle to alert everyone they’re busy reading. I’ve tried all four scents you can choose from, and my favorites are the mimosa and white tea scents.
Sony
WH-1000XM6
Help them block out the world while read (or take part in immersion reading, where you listen to the audiobook while you read the physical book at the same time) with our favorite noise-canceling headphones.
East Fork
The Mug
Give them a gorgeous mug to stay hydrated with their drink of choice while they read, whether that’s a nice cup of tea or a hot toddy.
Beautiful by Drew Barrymore
Beautiful Electric Kettle
They’ll need some hot water with that cup of tea, and this chic electric kettle is both stylish and affordable without slacking on performance.
Ugg
Men’s Neuman
Give the gift of happy, cozy feet with our favorite set of men’s slippers. Our WIRED reviewer says these slippers hold up well and have the classic Ugg front, with a low back that makes them easy to slip on and off.
Gorgeous Books and Boxed Sets
Looking to give the gift of a true book? These box sets and illustrated editions are worth collecting.
Lord of the Rings Illustrated Editions
If there’s a book I want to get my husband that he’s already read, it’s these beautiful illustrated editions of Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, and even The Silmarillion.
One Piece
Maybe they’ve been a One Piece fan for years. Maybe they’re a new fan after seeing the Netflix series. You can start their collection of the still-running manga or even give a couple initial volumes to get them hooked on the original.
Crescent City Boxed Set
If they’re fans of A Court of Thorns and Roses, it’s official: They’ll need to read Sarah J. Maas’ other series, Crescent City, to keep up with what happens in the next ACOTAR book. The first one is my favorite.
Judy Blume Essentials (Boxed Set)
by Judy Blume
These are a great series of books if you’re shopping for an elementary reader or teenager. The books have held up, with Blume’s themes still resonating years later.
Book Subscriptions
Buying a book for someone can be hard if you’re not sure what they’re into or what they’ve already read. But covering a few months of a subscription is the gift that gives over and over again.
Audible
If you know someone struggling with time to sit down and read, give them an Audible subscription so they can listen to books while they drive, do chores, work out, and so much more.
Book of the Month
Subscription
Book of the Month is a subscription for the reader who loves physical books. Every month, there are five to seven titles to choose from that ship right to their door (they can skip months if nothing catches their eye).
Parnassus
Signed First Editions Club
WIRED reviewer Adrienne So has subscribed for years (on and off) to Parnassus Signed First Editions, from novelist Ann Patchett’s store in Nashville, Tennessee. The books are mainly literary fiction, with occasional nonfiction. Every book she’s gotten has been an absolute banger.
The SoCal Indie Bestsellers List for the sales week ended Oct. 12 is based on reporting from the independent booksellers of Southern California, the California Independent Booksellers Alliance and IndieBound. For an independent bookstore near you, visit IndieBound.org.
HARDCOVER FICTION
1. Shadow Ticket: Thomas Pynchon
2. The Impossible Fortune: Richard Osman
3. What We Can Know: Ian McEwan
4. Alchemised: SenLinYu
5. Heart the Lover: Lily King
6. Katabasis: R. F. Kuang
7. Twice: Mitch Albom
8. The Secret of Secrets: Dan Brown
9. My Friends: Fredrik Backman
10. The Loneliness of Sonia and Sunny: Kiran Desai
HARDCOVER NONFICTION
1. 107 Days: Kamala Harris
2. Perseverance Principles: How to Unlock Confidence, Consistency, and Wealth Under Pressure: J.J. Mazzo
3. The Let Them Theory: A Life-Changing Tool That Millions of People Can’t Stop Talking About: Mel Robbins, Sawyer Robbins
4. All the Way to the River: Love, Loss, and Liberation: Elizabeth Gilbert
5. Raising Hare: A Memoir: Chloe Dalton
6. Poems & Prayers: Matthew McConaughey
7. The Creative Act: A Way of Being: Rick Rubin
8. Last Rites: Ozzy Osbourne
9. Good Things: Recipes and Rituals to Share with People You Love: Samin Nosrat
10. The Devil Emails at Midnight: What Good Leaders Can Learn from Bad Bosses: Mita Mallick
MASS MARKET
1. 1984: George Orwell
2. Animal Farm: George Orwell
3. The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy: Douglas Adams
4. Mistborn: The Final Empire: Brandon Sanderson
5. The Fellowship of the Ring: The Lord of the Rings: Part One: J.R.R. Tolkien
Reese Witherspoon is adding novelist to her résumé with “Gone Before Goodbye,” a thriller co-written with bestselling author Harlan Coben that hits shelves Tuesday.
The collaboration pairs the Oscar-winning actress and book club founder with one of publishing’s most successful thriller writers. It’s Witherspoon’s first novel and Coben’s first time working with a co-author.
Witherspoon said she contacted Coben, despite warnings from friends about his dark subject matter.
“In my mind, he is the greatest thriller writer there is right now,” she said.
Coben, known for his twist endings, said he rarely collaborates but was intrigued when Witherspoon came to his New York apartment with her pitch.
“Immediately, I had a yellow legal pad out,” Coben said. “We started going back and forth with ideas for three hours.”
“Gone Before Goodbye” follows Army combat surgeon Maggie McCabe as she navigates an international conspiracy involving spies and deception while confronting serious personal problems.
“We really wanted this to be the book you take to bed at eleven o’clock and be like, ‘Oh, I’ll read for 10 minutes,’ and the next thing you know, it’s four in the morning,” said Coben.
The protagonist represents Witherspoon’s desire to create a female action hero comparable to James Bond or Jason Bourne.
“Why are there no female leads in any— always the girl in the bikini or the girl stirring her drink,” she said. “But why shouldn’t she be the Jason Bourne?”
Witherspoon drew on her parents’ military medical backgrounds to develop McCabe’s character. Her father served in the Air Force and her mother in the Air National Guard, both as medical professionals.
The authors hope to develop the book into a film or television series and envision multiple installments featuring McCabe.
“That’s my biggest dream, that so many different women will play Maggie McCabe,” Witherspoon said.
Oscar winner Reese Witherspoon and bestselling author Harlan Coben join “CBS Mornings” to discuss their new thriller, “Gone Before Goodbye.” The book marks Witherspoon’s debut as a novelist and Coben’s first collaboration, following an Army surgeon entangled in a web of spies, lies and personal struggles.
New York Times bestselling author Jason Reynolds joins “CBS Mornings” to discuss “Coach,” the latest addition to his popular “Track” series. The new story explores the childhood of Coach Otis Brody, a boy with dreams of Olympic glory.
Oprah Winfrey called Megha Majumdar one of her favorite authors, praising “A Guardian and a Thief” as a novel unlike any other. Winfrey selected it as her latest book club pick. Set in Kolkata, India, the story follows two families fighting to protect their children amid climate change and scarcity.
No two speculative booms are exactly alike, of course, but they share some common elements. Typically, there is great excitement among investors about new technology—in today’s case, A.I.—and its potential to boost profits for companies positioned to take advantage of it. In the twenties, commercial radio was a novel and revolutionary medium: tens of millions of Americans tuned in. Sorkin points out that, between 1921 and 1928, stock in Radio Corporation of America, the Nvidia of its day, went from $1 ½ to $85 ½.
Another hallmark of a stock bubble is that, at some point, its participants largely give up on conventional valuation measures and buy in simply because prices are rising and everybody else is doing it: FOMO rules the day. By some metrics, valuations were even higher during the late-nineteen-nineties internet stock bubble than they were in the late twenties. And according to the latest report from the Bank of England’s Financial Policy Committee, which was released last week, valuations in the U.S. market are, by one measure, “comparable to the peak of the dot-com bubble.” That’s true according to the cyclically-adjusted price-to-earnings (CAPE) ratio, which tracks stock prices relative to corporate earnings averaged over the previous ten years. If, instead of looking back, you focus on predictions of future earnings, valuations are less stretched: the Bank of England report noted that they remain “below the levels reached during the dot-com bubble.” But that’s just another way of saying that investors are betting on earnings growing rapidly in the coming years. And this is a moment when many companies have so far seen precious little return for their A.I. investments.
To be sure, not everyone agrees that stock prices have departed from reality. In a note to clients last week, analysts at Goldman Sachs said the market’s rise, which is heavily concentrated in Big Tech stocks, “has, so far, been driven by fundamental growth rather than irrational speculation.” Jensen Huang, the chief executive of Nvidia, whose chips power A.I. systems at companies such as OpenAI, Google, and Meta, said that he believed the world was at “the beginning of a new industrial revolution.” However, even the authors of the Goldman report acknowledged that there are elements of the current situation “that rhyme with previous bubbles,” including the big gains in stock prices and the emergence of questionable financing schemes. Last month, Nvidia announced it would invest up to one hundred billion dollars over the next decade in OpenAI, the parent company of ChatGPT, which is already a big purchaser of Nvidia’s chips and will likely need more to power its expansion. Nvidia has said OpenAI isn’t obligated to spend the money it invests on Nvidia chips, but the deal, and others like it, have sparked comparisons to the dot-com bubble, when some big tech companies engaged in so-called “circular” transactions that ultimately didn’t work out.
Another recurring feature of the biggest asset booms is outright chicanery, such as fraudulent accounting, the marketing of worthless securities, and plain old stealing. Galbraith referred to this phenomenon as “the bezzle.” In hard times, he noted, creditors are tight-fisted and audits are scrupulous: as a result, “commercial morality is enormously improved.” In boom times, creditors are more trusting, lending standards get debased, and borrowed money is plentiful. But there “are always many people who need more,” Galbraith explained, and “the bezzle increases rapidly,” as it did in the late twenties. “Just as the boom accelerated the rate of growth,” he went on, “so the crash enormously advanced the rate of discovery.”
Sorkin traces the fates of Albert Wiggin and Richard Whitney, who, at the time of the crash were, respectively, the C.E.O. of Chase National Bank and the vice-president of the New York Stock Exchange. Both men were involved in the failed effort, orchestrated by Lamont, to stabilize the market. In 1932, Wiggin went on to become a director of the Federal Reserve Bank of New York. But, during the Pecora investigation, which began that same year, it emerged that, beginning in September of 1929, Wiggin had secretly shorted the stock of his own bank, using a pair of companies he owned to make the trades. He was forced to resign from the Fed. In 1930, Whitney, the scion of a prominent New England family, became the president of the stock exchange, but he was ultimately exposed as an embezzler and served more than three years in Sing Sing.
On being reminded of stories like these, it’s tempting to cast the leaders of nineteen-twenties Wall Street as a bunch of crooks. Sorkin resists the impulse. In an afterword, he writes, “The difficulty is that, other than the disgraced Richard Whitney and Albert Wiggin, it is hard to make the case that any of the era’s other major financial figures did anything appreciably worse than most individuals would have done in their positions and circumstances.” Given the role that Wall Street’s élite played in inflating and promoting the bubble, this is either a generous view or a jaded commentary on the fallen nature of mankind. In any case, though, it’s true that speculative booms tend to take on a life of their own, creating incentives and opportunities that warp people’s judgment at all levels of the economy, from small investors and professional intermediaries to major corporate and financial institutions.
One aspect of the current boom that hasn’t received sufficient attention is how it has extended from the stock market to the credit markets, where there has been enormous growth in so-called “private lending” by non-bank institutions, including private-equity companies, hedge funds, and specialized credit firms. Last week, news organizations reported that the Department of Justice had opened an investigation into the collapse of First Brands, an acquisitive Cleveland-based auto-parts firm that, with Wall Street’s help, had apparently raised billions of dollars in opaque transactions. One creditor told a bankruptcy court that up to $2.3 billion in collateral had “simply vanished,” and called for the appointment of an independent examiner. A lawyer for First Brands said the company denied any wrongdoing and attributed the collapse to “macroeconomic factors” beyond its control.
The sudden demise of a single highly leveraged company that operated in a sector far from the A.I. frontier may be a one-off event, with no broader implications. Or it could conceivably be a harbinger of what lies ahead. We won’t know for a while—perhaps a good while. But in the words of the nineteenth-century English journalist Walter Bagehot, whom Galbraith quoted, “every great crisis reveals the excessive speculations of many houses which no one before suspected.” This time is unlikely to be different. ♦
We may receive an affiliate commission from anything you buy from this article.
In his new memoir, “Life, Law & Liberty” (to be published Tuesday by Simon & Schuster), former Justice Anthony Kennedy writes about his life’s journey to becoming a lawyer, a judge, and the deciding vote on some of the Supreme Court’s most consequential decisions.
Read an excerpt below, and don’t miss Erin Moriarty’s interview with Kennedy on “CBS Sunday Morning” October 12!
Prefer to listen? Audible has a 30-day free trial available right now.
Prologue
Sacramento is where my thinking began about equality, liberty, and freedom. My wife, Mary, was also born and raised in Sacramento. We share cherished memories of younger years, school days, our wedding in 1963, and raising our three children in the city we loved. Sacramento is the place where we stood, in both the real and symbolic sense, to find beginnings and discover perspectives beyond. It is where my father practiced law, and where I — far too soon — stepped into his place to take over his practice. It is where my time on the bench began, and where so many of my beliefs about our country, about the rule of law, and about the world were formed.
The West, of course, was imperfect, and is imperfect. Neither the place nor the concept was anything close to idyllic. There were and are scorpions and snakes aplenty. On the frontier, just as in other places, racial, ideological, and gender prejudice were all too common and injurious. But perhaps more than elsewhere, the frontier contained the promise of something better, the promise of community, of tolerance, of growth and ambition, all tempered by the realms in which the reality fell short, many of which are discussed in the pages ahead. But it is in the West where I learned to see people as individuals, beyond their race or religion or gender, beyond whom they loved or how they chose to live their lives, beyond the elements that could have driven us apart. I began to try to understand the common beliefs that brought us together.
Only 116 men and women in our nation’s history have served as justices on the U.S. Supreme Court. Growing up, it was easy to think of these justices as beyond reproach. And the inequity that they were all white men at the time was slow to dawn upon me. But my image was of nine sages behind closed doors, ruling on some of the most central, and potentially divisive, issues in society. And then, one day, after years spent practicing law, teaching, and then judging on the Ninth Circuit bench, suddenly one of the nine was me.
Reality set in: I hoped to still be the person I had always been. A husband, a father, a diligent reader. But still just a fallible person. For all my years on the bench — and it gives me pride to say that my service as a justice on the Court was the fifteenth longest in U.S. history — I took the responsibility seriously, as did each of my colleagues, no matter how much and how often we agreed or disagreed. In doing my best to interpret and apply the Constitution and the law to the cases that came before us, my hope was that my life in the West would help give me the perspective needed to be honest and fair.
Growing up in the West taught me, for example, that the creative energies of a great people cannot be realized unless the realms of economic freedom and personal liberty are respected. It reminded me that central to an individual’s claim to personal liberty is the right to fair treatment and to be protected from arbitrary government action. The West reminded me that the most successful businessperson and the lowest-paid worker are each entitled to this basic dignity, a dignity that helped Americans build the frontier and continues to help us today.
The West is so central to my self-understanding that it seems an appropriate place to begin. This Western boy did later go East. But my hope was to stay always close to those Western ideas of liberty and justice. This memoir is my way of putting those ideas on paper, of explaining how a Western boy became a lawyer, a judge, and a justice, seeking always to honor our country’s founding principles and to do so with civility, hard work, tolerance, and the ethical foundation our nation must preserve.
To Princess Diana’s former butler, Buckingham Palace was the “gin palace,” where the drinks never stopped flowing.
Paul Burrell, who served at the royal residence for 11 years before moving to Kensington Palace, has written a new book, “The Royal Insider.” In it, he said that gallons of gin were consumed every week, “some legitimately, some not.”
“I quickly became familiar with the ingenious ways in which the household smuggled booze for their soirées,” he wrote, as quoted by The Sun. “I would be ordered by senior members of staff to empty a screw-top tonic water bottle each night and fill it with gin for them to use for parties in their rooms.”
Paul Burrell (left) with Diana, Princess of WalesAug. 10, 1997. He has written a new book titled “The Royal Insider.”(Kent Gavin/Mirrorpix/Getty Images)
“Footmen could be seen carrying Russell Hobbs electric kettles around the palace, not full of water but full of gin,” he added.
Royal experts told Fox News Digital that palace aides weren’t the only ones who loved their libations behind closed doors.
“It was an open secret that the Queen Mother (Queen Elizabeth II’s mother) enjoyed ‘a tipple,’ according to her biographer William Shawcross,” Richard Fitzwilliams told Fox News Digital. “She enjoyed ceaseless social rounds and, reportedly, a gin and Dubonnet at noon, red wine at lunch, a martini in the evening and pink champagne after dinner.”
WATCH: KING CHARLES’ LATE-NIGHT WHISKEY NIGHTCAP REVEALED BY ROYAL AUTHOR
“Queen Elizabeth was known to be partial to a gin and Dubonnet, which was her favorite cocktail,” he shared. “Princess Margaret was especially fond of Famous Grouse whiskey. It has also been reported that Princess Catherine enjoys an evening gin and tonic. Meghan Markle famously named her blog The Tig after Tignanello, her favorite wine.”
In 2021, a family friend told People magazine that Prince William is known for bringing his wife, Kate Middleton, a classic gin and tonic after putting their three young children to bed.
“They look after each other, but in different ways,” the friend said.
Kate Middleton is seen here sipping on an alcohol-free drink in 2012. It’s been reported that after her three kids go to bed, Prince William likes to prepare her a classic gin and tonic to wind down.(Mark Large – WPA Pool/Getty Images)
“Princess Catherine always liked vodka, passion fruit and raspberry liqueur, which is much sweeter than most drinks,” Fordwich said. “She even finishes it off with a dash of champagne. It was served at her wedding to Prince William.”
Even health-conscious King Charles won’t pass up a good dram.
King Charles is seen here taking part in a whiskey tasting while visiting the Royal Lochnagar Distillery in Scotland on Oct. 16, 2018. The distillery is located next to Balmoral Castle.(Jane Barlow/PA Images via Getty Images)
“Charles is a man of healthy habits,” Valentine Low, author of “Power and the Palace,” told Fox News Digital. “He skips lunch. He has a very light breakfast. But a government minister, Michael Gove, once told me how he went on a trip on the royal train with the then-Prince Charles. In the evening, he was summoned for a nightcap with Charles and was offered a very good malt whiskey — a glass of Laphroaig.”
“They had a nice chat about all sorts of things, including government policies,” Low said. “And then, at the end of that nightcap, he realized it was time to go when there was a discreet knock at the door.
Paul Burrell called Buckingham Palace the “gin palace” because palace aides reportedly loved to secretly indulge. Royal experts spoke to Fox News Digital about senior members of the House of Windsor and their own drinking habits.(Pawel Libera/LightRocket via Getty Images)
“The next morning, he was invited to have breakfast with Charles. But before he went, Charles’ private secretary suggested he might want a ‘big boy’s breakfast’ beforehand. So, he joined the private secretary for eggs, bacon and toast. Then he went to see Charles, who offered his own breakfast — a small glass of healthy juice and a few nuts and seeds.”
According to author Valentine Low, King Charles enjoys a “healthy juice” in the morning.(Toby Melville-Pool/Getty Images)
“He had two breakfasts that day,” Low added.
Fordwich told Fox News Digital that the monarch, 76, is known to be a “lighter drinker” who occasionally prefers a martini “meticulously prepared with equal parts gin and vermouth.”
When it came to his mother, the late queen, Fordwich said she favored Dubonnet and gin before lunch, wine with her meal and a dry martini in the evening. Sometimes she would indulge in champagne at night. The routine echoed the Queen Mother’s.
In the evenings, Queen Elizabeth would occasionally indulge in a glass of champagne, multiple reports revealed. She is seen here enjoying some bubbly in Warsaw, Poland, circa 1996.(Tim Graham Photo Library via Getty Images)
Reports said the queen preferred Bollinger champagne, which has held a royal warrant since 1884. Her husband, Prince Philip, was more of a no-frills drinker.
Prince Philip, the Duke of Edinburgh, refreshes himself with a beer during a carriage driving event, circa 1980.(Serge Lemoine/Getty Images)
“Prince Philip would not often drink wine at banquets, preferring a bottle of beer instead,” royal expert Ian Pelham Turner told Fox News Digital.
Philip’s drink of choice was Boddingtons Bitter.
The royals could generally handle their alcohol — except for one senior member.
Kate Middleton looks on as Prince William enjoys a pint of beer during a visit to Empire Music Hall Belfast on Feb. 27, 2019.(Samir Hussein/Samir Hussein/WireImage/Getty Images)
“Prince William, rather admirably in my opinion, has the nickname ‘One Pint Willy,’” said Fordwich. “It refers to his low alcohol tolerance, compared to the rather robust drinking habits of the rest of the royal family.”
The nickname was given to William by former rugby star Mike Tindall, who is married to the prince’s cousin Zara. He revealed it in 2023 on Rob Burrow’s podcast.
“He’s not the best of drinkers,” said Tindall at the time.
Prince William, Prince of Wales, makes a cocktail as he visits the Trademarket outdoor market on Oct. 6, 2022, in Belfast, Northern Ireland.(Pool/Samir Hussein/WireImage/Getty Images)
“He enjoyed a kamikaze shot [during his clubbing days],” she said. “It combines vodka, lime juice and triple sec.”
Diana, Princess of Wales, at the Christie’s pre-auction party, circa 1997. The royal was known for being a fan of white wine and peach Bellinis at social events.(Tim Graham Photo Library via Getty Images)
His late mother, Diana, broke from the mold and didn’t have a regular drinking ritual. She was said to enjoy white wine, particularly Chablis, and peach Bellinis at social events.
Prince Harry sprays his pal Nacho Figueras with champagne he drank from a trophy at The Veuve Clicquot Manhattan Polo Classic in New York, circa 2009.(Mark Cuthbert/UK Press via Getty Images)
In 2019, Vanity Fair royal correspondent Katie Nicholl reported that Prince Harry, who was once known for knocking back vodka Red Bull chasers at nightclubs, had adopted a healthier lifestyle thanks to his wife. Today, he reportedly starts his day with a green juice.
Stephanie Nolasco covers entertainment at Foxnews.com.
Eventually, she was hospitalized for bulimia and was close to death. Now, Katie is getting involved in public advocacy, explaining to adults exactly how apps that were supposed to connect her to her peers had isolated her instead. She said she was happy to join “amazing people like Jiore” to ensure that “we are doing our best to hold tech accountable.”
In her speech, Meghan noted that her early meetings with families like Katie’s taught her that she and Harry had a unique role to play in this work. “What we learned in these moments is that these parents…they didn’t just need therapy, they needed other parents who understood their very specific grief,” she said. “When they came together, they weren’t just sharing stories—they were creating a movement, and they did it quite well.”
After Haidt delivered a presentation covering both his research and the policy changes he has seen since The Anxious Generation was released in 2024, he joined Katie’s mother, parent advocate and wellness professional Kirsten Ryan, and Archewell peer support leader Amy Neville onstage. Katie Couric moderated their conversation.
After Meghan introduced him, Haidt joked that he was very impressed by the quality of talent that Project Healthy Minds had hired for the event. Following the discussion, Haidt told Vanity Fair that he met Meghan and Harry after Archewell reached out through his project After Babel. They finally connected at last year’s World Mental Health Day.
“I was greatly honored by that, but I then had to rush back to my class,” Haidt said. He apologized to his students, then explained that he was late by showing them a picture of him posing with Harry. “So the students cut me some slack.”
Since Haidt’s book became a global phenomenon, he’s only grown more firm in his conviction that smartphones are having a profound, negative impact on children. “What I said in the book was careful and full of footnotes and focused on the evidence that we have, which is pretty strong on mental health,” he said. The actual situation is “much worse than I said in the book because of the attentional destruction, which I only touched on briefly.”
Haidt added that he was glad to see Meghan and Harry’s work connecting parents in action. “I’m not that familiar with all of the things that Archewell does,” he said. “I just know that they have been bringing together the parents, helping the parents tell their story—helping them say that their child’s life matters.”
Last month, researchers published a study finding that the practice of “leisure reading” is in precipitous decline. In 2004, 28% of survey respondents reported reading for pleasure; by 2023, just 16% did. The survey defined such reading broadly: novels, audiobooks, magazines—any consumption of words not required by work or school. In an interview with The New York Times, one of the reading study’s co-authors described what she saw to be the broad negative implications of its findings, noting that reading involves forming connections with characters on the page. “The empathy that we feel for them is actually real,” she said, “and these connections with characters can be ways that we can feel less alone, that we can feel socially and emotionally validated.” So whether looking for leisure or connection, read on, pleasure seekers. We have a book for you.—Keziah Weir, Senior Staff Writer
‘All Passion Spent’ by Vita Sackville-West
Published in 1931, All Passion Spent tells the story of Lady Slane, who takes ownership of her life after years in the shadow of her wealthy and influential husband. Upon becoming a widow, Lady Slane defies everyone’s expectations and untangles herself from her capricious children by moving out of her Chelsea house to rent a small cottage in bucolic Hampstead. At 88, she takes the London underground for the first time, “going up to Hampstead alone, she did not feel old; she felt younger than she had felt for years.” In her newfound freedom and soothed by the tranquility of her leafy surroundings, she reminisces about her youth and reflects on her memories. But her plans for quiet contemplation are interrupted when a long-forgotten friend comes knocking on her door.
Despite being nearly a century old, this novel remains an amusing and surprisingly contemporary read. Sackville-West, who herself was an aristocrat married to a statesman, paints a delightful picture of eccentric characters, with witty observations that one can imagine being drawn from her own experience of London’s high society in the early 20th century. (1931)—Giulia Franceschini, Senior Global Planning Manager
‘It Girl: The Life and Legacy of Jane Birkin’ by Marisa Meltzer
At one juncture in Marisa Meltzer’s vivacious new biography of Jane Birkin, our heroine’s career is at a crossroads. She’s already appeared in a couple of West End productions, had small parts in two iconic films—Antonioni’s Blow-Up and Jacques Deray’s La Piscine with Alain Delon and Romy Schneider—and her disastrous marriage to John Barry, with whom she had a daughter, Kate, has just ended. She hears about an audition for a romantic comedy called Slogan, by the French director Pierre Grimblat; she gets the part and plays opposite Serge Gainsbourg, with whom she falls madly in love. Shortly thereafter, he is writing hit records for her, and together they are the talk of le tout-Paris. We are on page sixty, and Birkin has just turned twenty-one.
As both style icon and a symbol of a newly liberated youth, someone who seemed to emerge fully formed out of Swinging London and Mai ’68, Birkin was an Englishwoman who became the embodiment of Parisian chic. She scrambled the very grammar of sex appeal. Where Brigitte Bardot (who had just ended an affair with Gainsbourg) embodied a voluptuous, sultry past, Birkin heralded a new future—spare, androgynous, and insistently modern. As the ample passages from her journals make clear, her private life was bound up with men who both adored and unsettled her. Yet she carried those entanglements lightly, shaping from them not dependence but the contours of her own legend. (2025, Atria)—Eric Miles, Visuals Editor
‘No One Belongs Here More Than You’ by Miranda July
Before she wrote the sexy mid-life-crisis-perimenopausal novel no one knew they needed, Miranda July sharpened her deadpan voice through short fiction in her debut collection, No One Belongs Here More Than You. Through 16 stories—a few that read more like vignettes, and others more fully-fledged—July catapults us into the lives of some singular weirdos, who are odd mainly because of the intensity of their loneliness and the extreme lengths they pursue for human connection. People are in love with people they shouldn’t be. Or at the very least, it’s complicated. In short, situationships abound, and not just of the romantic variety. In one story, a woman gives elderly ladies swim lessons by placing their faces in bowls of water. In another, a teenager moves in with her childhood best friend and performs in a peep show to try to win her affections. Come for the jokes and unmistakable narrative voice; stay for the heartache. (2007, Scribner)—Natasha O’Neill, Digital Line Editor
‘Cantoras’ by Caro De Robertis
Is anywhere safe in an autocracy? Caro De Robertis’ novel reminds us that it’s possible to find a home within each other even when everywhere else feels unsafe. When fascism overtakes Uruguay in 1977, there are few places to hide from militant soldiers who sweep the streets and enforce oppressive curfew laws. Any gatherings are smothered, festivities are prohibited, and nearly all human interaction is monitored. Because homosexuality is deemed a dangerous transgression, young queer women like Flaca are especially at risk. Feeling suffocated by harsh censorship, she devises a plan—invite four others like her to a remote coastal shack for a week-long vacation. Over the course of decades, these fellow “cantoras”—a term that translates directly to “singers,” but is also Uruguayan slang for sapphic women—make repeated pilgrimages to this remote cabin in search of refuge. But even in this safe haven, Flaca’s lovers and friends struggle to find a true escape from what haunts them: memories of trauma, discrimination, self-hatred, and alienation. Cantoras is the story of a fight: a battle to insist on one’s own existence even when conforming might be the only way to survive. (2019, Knopf)—Kenneal Patterson, Associate Web Producer
‘Will There Ever Be Another You’ by Patricia Lockwood
“I started to laugh and then she started to laugh; many things in the human being are contagious,” Patricia Lockwood writes in her autobiographical new novel, whose main focus of contagion is the coronavirus pandemic. Of the book, Lockwood told the New Yorker, “I wrote it insane, and edited it sane.” Drawn in part from notebooks she kept while sick (“The first line of the mad notebook read ‘I wish, when I was a teenage Christian, that I had been more experimental with my evangelizing. God laid a big egg in my heart to tell you this”), it charts her hallucinatory journey from a feverish early infection in 2020 through the long haul of long COVID, and would probably be unreadable were it written by anyone but Lockwood. Instead, the poet-novelist-critic manages, via her on-page avatar, to wrestle her disease’s most vocationally disruptive symptom—its brain-scrambling warp of her ability to communicate—into a narrative through-line as she attempts to wrest back control of her brain. To be in that brain, amid that battle, is one of the more immersive reading experiences I’ve had in some time. (2025, Riverhead)—KW
‘Ladivine’ by Marie NDiaye, translated from the French by Jordan Stump
“If I think about good and evil, it’s definitely without the capital letters,” Marie NDiaye told Madeleine Schwartz in The Paris Review’s recent, excellent “The Art of Fiction No. 268.” Having never read NDiaye’s work and feeling instantly lacking, I picked up Ladivine, a novel about four generations of women and their complex mother-daughter relationships. Ladivine Sylla, a Black immigrant to France, is a source of both shame and duty for her beautiful daughter Malinka, who renames herself Clarisse, begins passing as white, and starts to live a double life before shocking violence descends. Decades later, Clarisse’s own daughter—named, poignantly, Ladivine, though Clarisse takes pains to keep her mother from meeting her namesake—travels with her young family to an island nation that may or may not be her ancestral homeland, where a surreal series of misidentifications unfolds. It’s a haunting novel of doublings and family secrets, surface appearances and psychological depths, rendered with electric clarity. “Might they not be tired and put off by such relentless generosity,” NDiaye writes of Clarisse and her family, “the patient, unforthcoming man and the increasingly mysterious and obliging child, neither of whom, perhaps, wanted so much goodness and wished she would let them know her in some other way, too?” (2016, Knopf)—KW
‘The Unpassing’ by Chia-Chia Lin
In another story about family secrets, we follow fifth grader Gavin, one of four children in a family of Taiwanese immigrants living in a community 30 miles outside Anchorage, Alaska. The novel begins in 1986, in the days before the Challenger launch, which Gavin and his family have been eagerly anticipating. Already one is prepared for disaster, but within pages a separate tragedy strikes: the day before the launch, Gavin, struck with meningitis, falls into a weeks-long coma. When he awakens, he learns from his teenage sister, Pei-Pei, that their youngest sister, four-year-old Ruby, has died. The three remaining siblings (rounded out by the fierce and dreamy Natty, age five) weather their parents’ increasingly volatile relationship as details emerge around the circumstances of Ruby’s death. Reading, I felt myself borne through the book on the strength of Chia-Chia Lin’s descriptions, both earthly—a beluga whale beached on the mudflats, flying squirrels in the attic—and interpersonal. “You are welcome here,” a woman tells Gavin’s mother at a solstice party. “My mother nodded soberly. ‘You are welcome, too.’” I didn’t want it to end. (2019, FSG)—KW
‘Meet Me at the Museum’ by Anne Youngson
Frankenstein notwithstanding, I’m not crazy about epistolary novels. But when my mom, whose literary taste I trust completely, graduates from gently suggesting I might like a book to sending me a copy, I tend to bump it to the top of the to-read pile. Such was the case with Meet Me at the Museum, the debut novel Anne Youngson published at 70 years old. The book unfolds via letters sent between Tina Hopgood, an English farmer’s wife, and Anders Larsen, a Danish scholar who specializes in the Iron Age. Their initial topic of conversation is the Tollund Man, whose body was found in a peat bog and resides (in the novel and in reality) at the Silkeborg museum, where Anders is a curator, and where Tina would like to visit. What begins as a factual exchange blooms into an increasingly personal correspondence: they describe difficulties in the lives of their children, the personalities of their current and former spouses, dreams and regrets—until a revelation in Tina’s life forces a confrontation that threatens the deep bond they’ve built. Poignant, pensive, and just sweet enough, like an almond cake dusted in powdered sugar. (2018, Flatiron)—KW
‘Heart the Lover’ by Lily King
Sophocles walked so that Lily King could rend our hearts with her novels about love triangles. In Heart the Lover, an unnamed narrator meets two young men during the last gasp of her college tenure. Sam and Yash, she recognizes, are “scholars” to her self-identified “student.” Sam and Yash nickname her Jordan (as in Baker) and sweep her into their heady academic life. But when her powerful attraction to Sam yields a subpar relationship, and her friendship with Yash turns into something more, the trio splinters irrevocably, and “Jordan” feels the reverberations far into the future. Decades later, now an accomplished novelist, her past catches up with her at the home she shares with her young family in Portland, Maine. It’s a quick novel, maybe a Gatsby-and-a-half long, but there’s so much packed into each interaction, be it a conversation between a mother and a sick child, or a confusing college hookup. And on top of all that great sexual tension and the beautifully rendered heartache of passing time, King’s fans will be rewarded with, to my mind, the most pleasurable kind of literary Easter egg of them all: the recognition of old friends peering out from pages past. (2025, Grove Press)—KW
Hungarian novelist László Krasznahorkai, known for his dense prose and apocalyptic themes, was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature.
The Swedish Academy in Stockholm credited Krasznahorkai “for his compelling and visionary oeuvre that, in the midst of apocalyptic terror, reaffirms the power of art.”
An investigator into Milo’s disappearance, as played by End of Watch’s Michael Peña, who is the father of a child with a disability, serves a vital function to the story from a practical sense—but also a personal one for Gallagher. “My child has autism and is disabled, and a lot of that storyline came from my own life,” she tells VF. To play the parent of a child with such challenges meant casting someone as soulful as Peña. “Michael did a really, really great job of encapsulating the feeling of isolation. You’re not having the same experience as other parents. You’re not hitting the same milestones. You don’t have the same outlook for your child’s future,” she says. “You are on a lonely island. It might be an island full of tons and tons and tons of love, but it is a little lonely. Every time [Peña] walks on the screen, I kind of smile,” says Gallagher. “He just makes everything better that he’s in.”
Keeping a firm separation between work and life was key in keeping Snook’s own sanity as a first-time mother on All Her Fault, directed in part by 3 Body Problem’s Minkie Spiro and The Handmaid’s Tale’s Kate Dennis. “There was one moment where the director whispered in my ear to think of my daughter [during a scene],” says Snook. “I was like, ‘Nope, I’m out.’ It was a well-meaning direction, but if I’m thinking of that I go into a hypervigilant stress response: ‘We need to call the hospital. We need to call the police.’ Bringing in actual reality is less useful as a performer than using my imagination. But that’s just me: I see kids play and really believe that they are a dragon. I can access the same thing without thinking about my own daughter.”
Sarah Enticknap/PEACOCK.
With some time and distance from the emotionally charged experience, Snook has come to appreciate the level of difficulty that she and her costars rose to—particularly in the show’s propulsive conclusion. “The person with whom I’m in the revelation scene in the last episode really challenged themselves to go to a place that they’re not necessarily required to in other roles they’ve done,” she says cryptically. “They were so compelling and so fucking good—I’m excited for them.”
“Remember,” Anjelica Huston’s father, John, used to tell her, “You can always put your hands in your pockets and walk away.”
Huston never took the legendary director’s advice. She’s been the scion of a famed Hollywood family, a top model, and an Oscar-winning actress in films like Prizzi’s Honor, The Grifters, The Royal Tenenbaums, The Dead, The Addams Family, Crimes and Misdemeanors, and The Witches. In Huston’s two autobiographies—2013’s A Story Lately Told: Coming of Age in Ireland, London, and New York and 2014’s Watch Me: A Memoir—she also reveals herself to be an excellent writer whose keen eye for aesthetics and detail would have made her a great fashion editor, travel writer, or gossip columnist as well.
Her words allow the slightly tough and achingly chic Huston to reveal a strikingly cuddly, softhearted streak, especially regarding children and animals. “For a sophisticated girl,” she notes, “I could be tragically gullible.”
Her rolodex of experience is impressive. Scan these pages, and you’ll find Huston reminiscing about her encounters with Montgomery Clift, Diane von Furstenberg, Bill Murray, Michael Jackson, Marlon Brando, Joni Mitchell, Prince Albert,Josephine Baker, John Cusack, Helmut Lang, Groucho Marx, Diana Vreeland, Huey P. Newton, and Mick Jagger, among others.
Most of all, Huston’s books show her determination to evolve and defy expectations—a drive that’s both inspiring and timely. In the early 1980s, famed director Tony Richardson cruelly told Huston, “Poor little you. So much talent and so little to show for it. You’re never going to do anything with your life.” Huston’s reaction will resonate with readers everywhere:
“Perhaps you’re right,” I answered. Inside I was thinking, “Watch me.”
An Irish Fairy Tale
“My life was mostly fantasy,” Huston writes of her imaginative childhood. Indeed, in A Story Lately Told she paints a lush, evocative, sensual portrait of a charmed, if lonely, storybook youth.
