This book was recommended to me by one of my regular patrons. He said that he picked it up on a whim and ended up really enjoying it so I thought I'd give it a go as well.

Thus far, this is the only book that I've read that deals directly with COVID-19 and/or lockdown so it was definitely eerie and somewhat uncomfortable reliving the darkest days of the global pandemic we're still battling. The author essentially journals every day of that first year that the pandemic took hold of the U.S. and experiencing again the confusion, fear, anger, numbness, and acceptance of those days (which still continue for most of us) was difficult. I think this would have hit differently had I read it at some far-flung date in the future when this time was a hazier memory but as it is still fresh and ongoing I couldn't fully relax while reading it. Maybe that was the author's goal? Or perhaps he just had to expel these thoughts and feelings onto paper so that he could move on and hope that it would resonate with his readers. I'm not sure. I can say that it was well-written and certainly topical but I think if I had it to do over again I would tell myself to wait and pick it up in 5-10 years from now. *shrugs* ( )

I had the pleasure of meeting the mystery writer Charles Finch once, when the Poisoned Pen bookstore owner invited me (as another author who writes mysteries about Victorian London) to help interview him. That evening, Finch struck me as gracious, well-read, and comfortable in his own skin. He was on a book tour for The Last Passenger, one of the Charles Lenox mysteries, and I read some of my favorite passages aloud to the audience because they were wonderfully, wryly funny -- a tricky thing in murder mysteries. Pulling it off requires that a writer be keenly attuned to both emotions and language.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, Finch has written a memoir that is discursive, literary, allusive, and above all humane. His dated entries follow the linear historical trajectory, but the entires aren't homogenized into a tidy whole. To me, they feel reassuringly raw and emotionally uneven--reassuring because this is exactly the way that I experienced the past 18 months, with that messy mixture of denial and isolation, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance and some hope and a load of anxiety thrown in. If this sounds like Elisabeth Kubler Ross's 5 stages of grief, that's because ... well, it's been a long, painful year.

Some of the reviews on goodreads have criticized Finch for his liberal views, which are earnest and heartfelt and may strike some people as strident. I'll admit, I don't wholly agree with some of the solutions he sketches, as he's addressing some complex problems, but I also felt that what he was capturing (successfully) was the impatience, the desperate longing for things to change *soon* that many of us feel.

As for the writing itself, his feelings and thoughts, his memories and experiences are limned in prose that makes me a tad jealous at his turn of phrase. (The passages about his grandmother are especially tender.) It's the sort of book that makes me want to be a better writer, to be more precise with my own language, not to be lazy, but to find just the right metaphor to reflect human experience in a fresh, true way. He references cultural icons and books (so many books! I found myself thinking, How does he have time to do anything other than read?!) from Aslan to A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, and I came away feeling as though I'd spent several hours with a lively intellect, someone honest, someone I'd like for a friend -- and having been reminded that shared stories and books are some of the nodes around which we can gather, to undo that feeling of isolation and get through this together.
Highly recommended. ( )

I, like most people, want to put 2020 behind me to never discuss again. However, this book came along and I was compelled to read it. It is a well-written pandemic diary, broken down by each month detailing several of the tragic events of 2020. It also felt like a story of hope for most of us still meandering through life. I felt like I took away more from the book than effort (couch, pjs, feet propped up) I put in reading it. ( )

2020. What a year. I am thankful that I survived, bodily and mentally. Why would I want to revisit it? After all, it JUST happened.

Crazy me, I did revisit it–with Charles Finch in his memoir What Just Happened: Notes on a Long Year. Finch’s notes hit all the headline news, Covid-related, political and social. Condensed, so you can’t help but notice that it was truly one damned thing after another. If we have PTSD, or anxiety, or burn-out, or are reduced to simmering or explosive rage, there is a reason for it.

Finch talks about how he coped with comforting music and weed, how day after day he was just stuck, how everything seemed so hard.

March 21. A sure sign that things are darker is that I’m listening to Norah Jones today for the first time in twenty years. from What Just Happened by Charles Finch

Reading this made me realize how universal our experiences were. March 11, 2020, I had an appointment. Then, Michigan went into lockdown. We drove the car around so the battery didn’t die. We drove to our son’s house and stood outside the picture window and waved and left goodies on the porch. I remember Sundays with no traffic anywhere–in Michigan, when usually thousands are coming home from Up North cabins on Sundays.

March 12. I drove just to take a drive today. No traffic anywhere. In Los Angeles.
from What Just Happened by Charles Finch

We ordered delivery groceries and cleaned everything then washed out hands and arms. On our walks, when we met people we made wide arcs around each other, nodding heads. We were scared of each other.

Finch writes about empty store shelves and the joy of getting a shipment of pasta. He writes about Zooming, online group reads, the television shows everyone watched, and most of all, “the boredom and terror” of lockdown.

Finch shares the story of his personal health crisis as a kid, and his dependence on medical treatment, the fear when DeJoy decided to slow down the Post Office to interfere with mail-in ballots, worried about getting his refill. He talks about the weaknesses of American health care, the brutal implications of government spending on war that could go to education and programs to benefit people. How conservatives thought it a good thing that mostly ‘old’ people died from Covid.

With a subtle humor, and great humanity, Finch recalls 2020 in all its boredom and fear, the grim, human toll, the frightening political circus, the uplifting Women’s March and the protests for Black Lives Matter.

I received a free egalley from the publisher through NetGalley. My review is fair and unbiased. ( )