Letters of Recommendation #1

Hi, I’m Amelia! I created this column simply because I receive frequent requests for book recommendations and thought it would be nice to have a dedicated place to share them. I find that the people in my life are generally overwhelmed when choosing what to read next, which stems, I think, from an over-saturation issue (“there are too many books...”) or maybe choice paralysis (“...and they all entice me”). Everything that comes out seems to be a “glittering debut” or a “tour de force” or at the very least a “must read.” I don’t think you must read anything, but if you’d like to read something, here’s a nudge in the right direction.

Some credentials: I spent five years in the publishing world—firstly at Scholastic (think book fairs), then at a Big Five publisher, then at an indie press—which is to say that I’ve read more than some and fairly widely. I’m here to share the new books I’ve found worth visiting and the “older” ones that have stuck with me. Important note: I’m in no way a critic/expert nor claiming to be!

As for the format, I’ll be sharing three recs every other month: one book that’s new/forthcoming and two that I’ve enjoyed in the past. The thought behind this is to stay up to date with the current publishing landscape while revisiting titles that may have become buried in the news cycle. I’ll prioritize books that are returning to the cultural conversation through either subject matter or adaptation, along with those that align with COPY’s goal of focusing on the emerging, untraditional, and independent.

For this first edition, I chose three books that I’ve been recommending nonstop IRL. They’re all grounded in American politics in their own ways, some more explicitly than others, and I’ve seen the issues they explore discussed frequently in the media as we approach the election. These selections are a reminder that books are inherently political.

Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy. :)


Health & Safety
Emily Witt
$27.00, 272 pp

Health & Safety is a memoir charting Emily Witt’s double life—in it, she works as a New Yorker staff writer covering breaking news and politics during the Trump administration while discovering the underground world of techno music and raves. She portrays the counterculture with journalistic precision and excellence, describing the time in her life that she decided to “try as many psychedelic drugs as possible.” I found this book to be smart, sharp, and self-aware*. Health & Safety is a love letter to Bushwick, and if nothing else, it’s uniquely propulsive to read about places you know from personal experience (Bossa Nova and Happy Fun Hideaway, yes, but also the Myrtle/Broadway J stop and Mr. Kiwi). 

*In reaction to turning her nose up at cocaine (she preferred mushrooms and ayahuasca before learning to favor acid), Witt writes: “[it was] a drug for assholes. The thing was, I was the one being an asshole, with my smug little adventures in cultural appropriation that I used to process my banal emotions.”


Bliss Montage
Ling Ma
$18.00, 240 pp

Stories are great for those of us who can’t make it past the second chapter (respectfully). This collection is fantastic in both the literal and colloquial senses of the word. Ling Ma is the author of Severance, the brilliant baby pink debut that earned her an oracle-like reputation for predicting the pandemic. In Bliss Montage, she uses “madness and the reality of our collective delusions” as a framework for eight exceptionally different stories. My favorites are “Yeti Lovemaking” (it’s what it sounds like—I chuckled and winced), “Office Hours” (O. Henry Prize, Best Short Stories 2023), and “Tomorrow.” These stories, along with the collection as a whole, are unnerving, linguistically cutting, and deeply clever.


Demon Copperhead
Barbara Kingsolver
$21.99, 570 pp

Demon Copperhead was the best recommendation I received last year (from both my parents, no less), and it would be a shame not to extend the favor. I couldn’t put it down, and I never say that. The voice!!  Kingsolver’s infallible, twangy narration situates her reader in the mind of Demon, a teenage boy growing up in Appalachia, to illustrate the effects of the opioid crisis on rural America. This sprawling Pulitzer winner is both unrelentingly tragic and unrelentingly funny, and I recommended it to anyone looking to spend their fall wrapped up in a great story.