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 6:42 and 8:42 a.m., and now 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. 

“Aboard Chawla. Nedda Papas rose to birdsong, the sharp, rasping call of a dusky seaside sparrow against a backdrop of waves - a reminder of home and things she’d never see again.” 

I’m Betty Martin with "Martin’s Must Reads" and those are the first lines of Erika Swyler’s science fiction novel Light From Other Stars.

“I don’t believe he can live through the night.” George Cherrie wrote in his diary in the spring of 1914. A tough and highly respected naturalist who had spent twenty-five years exploring the Amazon, Cherrie too often had watch helplessly as his companions succumbed to the lethal dangers of the jungle. Deep in the Brazilian rain forest, he recognized the approach of death when he saw it, and it now hung unmistakable over Theodore Roosevelt.”

"The house I grew up in had a great backyard..a long driveway for biking, a  tree perfect for climbing, two large boulders to play around and a section that could be frozen for ice skating."

 I’m Betty Martin with "Martin’s Must Reads" and Haven Kimmel’s autobiography A Girl Named Zippy took me back to those glorious days of childhood freedom and innocence. Haven grew up in the 1960’s in the small town of Mooreland, Indiana, population 300. Her book is about her life from birth through age 10.

“When Kya ran to the porch, she saw her mother in a long brown skirt, kick pleats nipping at her ankles, as she walked down the sandy lane in high heels. The stubby-nosed shoes were fake alligator skin. From there she saw the blue train case Ma carried. Usually, with the confidence of a pup, Kya knew her mother would return with meat wrapped in greasy brown paper or with a chicken head dangling down. But she never wore the gator heels, never took a case.”

“The last time she’d come out this way was two years ago to move her grandfather out of his house. Since that afternoon, they’d heard lots of stories about what was happening in Bear Creek Valley. The army had built a city folks said. Mary had been working in Oak Ridge for almost a year and assured June there were plenty of good jobs for the taking. A tall fence topped with barbed wire ran along the road, and June could see buildings beyond it in the distance. A sign in front of the fence read MILITARY RESERVATION, NO TRESPASSING."

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