What I Read in 2017

The turn of the calendar is the time of year when we must endure those inane end-of-year lists on blogs, on television, and on podcasts. At first they are interesting. They may spark your memory about an event from the previous twelve months or remind you how far—or how little—you’ve come since last January 1. But after exposure to a few lists, subsequent countdowns become nauseating. 20 Most-Liked Celeb Instagram Posts of 2017. Seriously?

Aaron Burden

Just as a photograph or a song (or a web page detailing the most creeped upon celebrities) can spark memories in one’s mind, so can a well read book. For example I recall the chill of the vinyl hospital rocker as I read Frank Viola and Mary DeMuth’s The Day I Met Jesus. The room was quiet that day as Abram, my asthmatic, and his mother rested in each other’s arms, passed out in exhaustion after the ordeals of illness gave way to the relief of albuterol, prednisolone, and a couple liters of oxygen—just one in a series of hospitalizations the youngling has had to endure in his short span on earth.