Book Review: Carrie Soto Is Back

Carrie Soto Is Back by Taylor Jenkins Reid, as of this writing, ranks as my favorite book in this review series so far.

The story here is simple: Carrie Soto is a tennis prodigy who dominated women's tennis in the '80s, finishing with 20 Grand Slam wins. She retires at the age of 31 after suffering a devastating knee injury. Many regard the "Battle Axe" as the best women's player ever.

That's until Nikki Chan enters the picture. During Carrie's retirement, the youthful, skilled Chan matches Carrie's Grand Slam mark. That sparks something within the former champ, whose competitive fire (and vanity) won't stand for it. She hits the comeback trail at 37, determined to prove to the world she still has what it takes to win on the court.

Image via Indianapolis Public Library

The narrative, told primarily in first person from Carrie's perspective, tracks her professional tennis career, rise and fall, and comeback bid. The protagonist is a deeply flawed character prone to selfishness and outbursts. She is not entirely likeable all the time, and that makes her very compelling. She makes frustrating decisions and sometimes seems like more of a machine (emotionally speaking) than a person.

These flaws are understandable. She lost her mom at a young age and her father, Javier, a former successful tennis pro himself, started training her at a young age. Really, the cutthroat world of professional tennis is all she's ever known. Competition drives her.

At the height of her tennis career, she ditched her father as her primary trainer, a decision that served as an emotional gut-punch to him (and she realizes years later, to her as well). Watching the two repair that relationship during her comeback gives the book a lot of charm--they don't always agree and have frequent clashes, but you can feel the warmth between them. Her father believes in her to the very end.

Carrie, emotionally stunted and difficult to get close to, also forms a relationship with Bowe Huntley, a male tennis pro on his last legs. He's set to retire soon and, like Carrie, wants to go out on top. There's a bit of "will they-won't they" in there, with Bowe often stymied in his attempts to get closer to her. The dynamic between the two progresses throughout the book, as Carrie discovers, finally, that there's more to life than tennis.

Interview transcripts and media reports are interspersed throughout the novel, giving it the feel of a real-life sports chronicle. Carrie's world lives and breathes, and while I'm not the most knowledgeable tennis fan, I'm familiar enough with the sport for the big moments to land during her many matches. 

People who don't like sports may not get as much out of it as I did. While Carrie is the star, the book interrogates sports culture, the role the media plays in shaping narratives, the demands of satisfying sponsors, and the crushing pressures pro athletes confront on a daily basis.

I found it utterly absorbing as a reader and sports fan. Highly recommended.

Book Review: The Secret of Secrets

Robert Langdon has existed in the public sphere since 2000, when Angels & Demons was published. The Harvard symbologist exploded into the public consciousness with 2003's The DaVinci Code, which became a runaway bestseller and cultural phenomenon.

The latest Robert Langdon adventure penned by Dan Brown came out in September 2025. It's the sixth Langdon novel after Angels & Demons (2000), The DaVinci Code (2003), The Lost Symbol (2009), Inferno (2013) and Origin (2017).

Image via Indianapolis Public Library

First of all, I've enjoyed the previous books in the series. They are page-turning commercial thrillers filled with intrigue, pseudo-history, and high-stakes adventure. As Langdon is a professor, he flexes his intellect more than his muscles, something I've always appreciated. He still manages to get into a fair amount of scrapes, however.

That said, The Secret of Secrets could've used an editorial scalpel. I read the eBook version, but it looks like the hardcover version is one of those "Books that Could Kill a Man." The library lists it at 675 pages, with an estimated word count in the 180,000 range. From a commercial fiction standpoint, that's basically the length of two novels.

It's one of those books that, when I read it, it felt like the percentage indicator on the Kindle app never changed no matter how many chapters I made it through. For me, it became quite a slog, and I think some characters could've been condensed/combined and some of the many, many subplots excised.

The plot involves Langdon's love interest, a scientist named Katherine Solomon, who has introduced a rather novel theory on life after death that some people would kill for. When she disappears, Langdon sets off on a twisty journey through Prague to find her. A wide-ranging conspiracy will put him up against a secretive group, a determined local cop, world governments, and a seemingly indestructible force of nature.

All the hallmarks of a Robert Langdon novel are here: secret societies, fake history that is just close enough to the real thing to feel plausible, a love interest, an absurdly dangerous assailant, a central conspiracy, historical locations, a Mickey Mouse watch, swimming, and a mysterious murder. Expect twists and turns that stretch credulity with each passing moment and long-winded exposition that overexplains certain plot points.

I can't say I loved this book. I can't say I hated this book. I just know, while reading it, I was doing some wicked head-editing that could've smoothed out the prose, eliminated narrative clutter, and trimmed out superfluous material. I am, however, not a New York Times-bestselling author, so take that for what it's worth. 

Book Review: The Last Folk Hero

Bo Jackson hit a ball to the moon. Outran an IndyCar. Lifted an entire skyscraper on his shoulders. Threw a ball from the West Coast to the East Coast. Hiked the ball to himself, threw it 90 yards, and then caught it himself for a touchdown. Scaled a foul pole in a single leap to rob a home run.

None of these claims appear in The Last Folk Hero: The Life and Myth of Bo Jackson by Jeff Pearlman, but they could have--and that's the point. Jackson, a professional football and baseball star who also excelled at track and field in college, is the Paul Bunyan of our times, a mythical figure who exploded onto the American sports scene in the '80s and then quietly disappeared.

Pearlman's long and exhaustively researched account of the life and times of one of history's greatest athletes--and perhaps, in the estimation of many, the greatest athlete--tells the story of Jackson's humble beginnings, meteoric rise, and sudden retirement. He interviewed more than 700 people to write the comprehensive book that proves, while "Bo knows," you don't know Bo.

Image via Indianapolis Public Library

This is a long and engaging read detailing Jackson's storied pro sports career. The journey began at Alabama's McAdory High School, where Jackson starred in football, baseball, and track and field. Each sport allowed him to show off prodigious speed and power. He won state championships in decathlon despite skipping the 1,500 meter-run. He hit 20 home runs in 25 games during his senior year. He averaged nearly 10 yards a carry as a senior running back.

While many out-of-state colleges recruited him, Jackson wanted to stay in Alabama. He chose Auburn over Alabama, mostly because Auburn appeared invested in him while Alabama's recruitment effort felt perfunctory. At Auburn, the Tigers were national title contenders but never reached the mountaintop, although Jackson won the Heisman. He also dabbled in baseball, displaying prodigious power and speed, and competed in track and field.

The New York Yankees drafted Jackson, who decided to attend Auburn on a football scholarship to fulfill a promise to his mother to attend college. He turned down a signing bonus of $250,000, making this an extraordinary decision for a man whose family was dirt poor. After his college career ended, Jackson opted to sign with the Kansas City Royals instead of the Tampa Bay Buccaneers.

The Bucs chose Jackson in the NFL Draft, but Jackson believed the team misled him about whether a flight to team facilities was approved by the NCAA. The trip destroyed his remaining baseball eligibility, and Jackson vowed never to play for the ramshackle franchise.

Jackson would go on to star for the Royals and the Raiders. Kansas City constantly worried about a football injury affecting his baseball career while the Raiders had to live with the fact that the end of baseball season overlapped with the start of football season. Also, Raiders owner Al Davis started to seethe over Jackson's popularity, as Davis wanted to be the star of the show and the face of the franchise.

Jackson struggled with a stutter throughout his life, although his interviews improved somewhat as his career progressed. Nike managed to turn this into a positive with its "Bo Knows" ads, one of the most innovative commercial campaigns in history. The ads capitalized on Jackson's role as a two-sport star, putting him in additional sports with other stars.

On the football and baseball fields, Jackson performed feats of unparalleled athleticism--impossible throws, impossible homers, impossible touchdown runs. With his on-the-field performance and "Bo Knows" campaign, Jackson transformed into a megastar. 

But the story wouldn't have a happy ending. Jackson suffered a devastating hip injury in a playoff game against the Cincinnati Bengals. It ended his football career, killed the hype, and led to hip replacement surgery. The Royals cut him and Jackson resurfaced with the Chicago White Sox as a shell of his former self. He played an additional season for the Angels before retiring (thanks, in no small part, to the baseball strike).

The fact that he even returned to baseball was a miracle, given the severity of his hip injury.

Bo Jackson was a man of contradictions. With the media, he was often surly and dismissive. Yet, he would complain about his treatment in the media and take it personally when reporters didn't cover some of the exceptional things he did in sports. He often treated teammates and clubhouse staff with cruelty, and few would call him a good teammate, especially in his early years.

On the other hand, Jackson was capable of incredible empathy. He would buy suits for rookie ballplayers, visit sick children in the hospital, and give generously to charities. Since he grew up poor, he had a soft spot for kids, especially those facing financial difficulties and terminal illnesses. Later in his career, colleagues would consider him the best teammate they ever had.

He was a complicated man, shy and reflective in his personal life--traits that often came off as cold and disinterested to those who didn't know him. He also possessed a Steve Jobsian "Reality Distortion Field"--the ability to believe something completely absurd and convince others of the same thing.

While Jackson didn't want to be interviewed for the book, he gave Pearlman his blessing to tell his story. 

I consider this a must-read for any sports fan. Jackson isn't the most likeable person alive, but he remains, without a doubt, a fascinating figure and our last great folk hero.