Martin's Must-Reads
There are one million new books published each year. With so many books and so little time, where do you begin to find your next must-read? There’s the New York Times Bestseller list, the Goodreads app, the Cape Library’s Staff picks shelf and now Martin’s Must-Reads.
Every Wednesday at 7:42 a.m. and 5:18 p.m., and Sunday at 8:18 a.m., Betty Martin recommends a must read based on her own personal biases for historical fiction, quirky characters and overall well-turned phrases. Her list includes WWII novels, biographies of trailblazers, novels with truly unique individuals and lots more. Reading close to 100 titles a year, Betty has plenty of titles to share. Tune in each Wednesday and visit KRCU.org for previous must-reads.
Local support for "Martin's Must Reads" comes from the Cape Girardeau Public Library and the Sikeston Public Library.
Latest Episodes
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“Right about Fence Five, I started to think, the movies lied to me. Roxie had her head up in front of me, so high I was almost looking between the black tips crowning her chocolate-brown ears. They perfectly framed the jump we were approaching. A jump I had thought would be easy—just a little row of barrels!—but my headstrong mare clearly disagreed.” -
“On the left, right, and rear walls were portraits, ninety-two of them in total, done in pencil on white paper and in black frames of three sizes. All had obviously been done by the same artist. And, as if to reflect the customers in the shop at that moment, the collection included a full range of humanity—age, race, and expression. Portraits and portraits and more portraits.” -
“They show you how to make bombs on the internet. If you know where to look. What to buy, where to buy it from. How to fit the whole thing together. There are even videos…They don’t really tell you about the risks. But the risks stand to reason. Be careful with explosives, that doesn’t need to be spelled out to anyone surely?” -
“And whose nitwit idea was this?’ Betty Hardacre snapped, her orthopedic shoes sinking into sand. Betty was the chair of the Episcopal Church Women. She prided herself on upholding the parish’s long-standing traditions. Pastor Miranda McCurdy looked up from the grill where she tended to the sizzling barbecue. As the first woman to lead St. Gabriel-by-the-Sea in 180 years, she was used to resistance.” -
“The story begins around the year 2500 B.C.E. Seth trudged across the Great Plain, carrying on his back a wickerwork basket containing flints to be traded. He was with his father and two older brothers. He hated all three of them.” -
“Dear Dr. Sharon, The self-portrait you requested is attached. I make my living drawing marble installations to scale. I’m a draftsman who also provides designs for customers. Forgive the lack of nuance in the sketch, but it is a truthful rendering of how I see myself." -
“Father Kavanagh. Pen in hand and his notebook open before him, he was ready to do what he did every November: Get started on his Christmas list. By seven thirty a.m., he had prayed with his wife, checked his sugar, had his shot, and polished off his stone-ground oatmeal with raw honey and multigrain toast. This upbeat start on the morning had made him overconfident - his pen was poised but nothing was happening. The grand expectation of churning through the list was morphing into a muse.” -
“The sun is leaving for the day, and I probably should too. I shouldn’t be here at all. This has to stop, everyone says so. It’s not healthy, Cady. It’s not right. Not normal, not legal.” -
“New Orleans - 1866. I had few pleasures to call my own. There was the peace found in the attic where I was made to board, the transporting comfort of the books in Mrs. Harper’s library, the deliciousness of the sweet bread I purchased with my allowance from the bakery down the road each Sunday of rest. But all of it paled in comparison to the joy brought upon me by Oliver, the terrier I considered my own.” -
“Thursday, December 27th, eleven p.m. Kuldesh Sharma hopes he’s in the right place. He parks up at the end of the dirt track, hemmed in on all sides by trees, ghoulish in the darkness. He had finally made up his mind at about four this afternoon, sitting in the back room of his shop. The box was sitting on the table in front of him. He made two phone calls, and now here he is."
