If you’re new around here, we have a little holiday tradition — we ask the writers, editors, and contributors at The Federalist to tell us about their reading habits in the past year, and highlight their favorite books for your general edification. Bear in mind, these aren’t necessarily new books, just the best ones they managed to read. Without further ado …

David Harsanyi

Many of my favorite books this year are about history, though some seem disturbingly timely.

Jews vs. Rome: Two Centuries of Rebellion Against the World’s Mightiest Empire by Barry Strauss covers the three Jewish insurrections against the Roman Empire: the Great Revolt that led to the destruction of Second Temple; the Diaspora Revolt, a series of rebellions by Jewish communities outside of Israel; and finally, the Bar Kokhba Revolt, which led to the end of any semblance of Jewish self-rule in Israel for 2,000 years. It covers a vital period of history that not only saw the height of Roman rule but the emergence of Christianity. 

On that note, Children of Mars: The Origins of Rome’s Empire by Jeremy Armstrong, an updated and counterintuitive history of the Roman conquest of the Italian peninsula and the evolution of Rome’s culture and society, is well worth reading.

Hitler’s People: The Faces of the Third Reich by the great Richard J. Evans tells the story of Nazism not only through its most notorious political figures — Goebbels, Himmler, Göring, Bormann, and of course, Hitler — but through the administrators, generals and characters who helped create the aesthetic and cultural life of the regime, architect Albert Speer, publisher Julius Streicher, and filmmaker Leni Riefenstahl.

The Architect of Espionage: The Man Who Built Israel’s Mossad into the World’s Boldest Intelligence Force by Samuel Katz is the story of former head of Israel’s Mossad, Meir Dagan, who reinvigorated the intelligence agency as an indispensable ally to the West and leaned into preemptive policy against terrorism and the existential threat of the Iranian nuclear program.

Mark Twain comes from the desk of Ron Chernow, America’s preeminent biographer and author of Grant and Alexander Hamilton, among others. Like his previous books, this is a masterful doorstopper.

The Maniac, a 2023 novel by Benjamín Labatut, is nearly impossible to categorize. It begins with the despair of relying on science as faith, offers a fictionalized life story of John von Neumann (who many believe was the most brilliant human of the 20th century), and ends with the rise of artificial intelligence. It’s about mathematics, physics, economics, and computer science. A challenging, curious, and inventive novel.

Woody Allen: A Travesty of a Mockery of a Sham by Patrick McGilligan is likely the most comprehensive biography of the genius filmmaker — and I’ve read most. Notably, it once again debunks many of the baseless accusations against the comedian.

My guilty pleasure is reading all the books about music I can get my hands on. The most notable this year were The Drums by The Smiths’ Mike Joyce; Rumors of My Demise by head Lemonhead Evan Dando; Now You’re One of Us: The Incredible Story of Redd Kross by Jeffrey and Steven McDonald; Burning Down the House: Talking Heads and the New York Scene That Transformed Rock by Jonathan Gould; and, finally, one of the better rock bios I’ve read in recent years, Autonomy: Portrait of a Buzzcock by Steve Diggle.

Brianna Lyman

With America’s 250th anniversary fast approaching, one can expect self-hating liberals to try to defile the founders’ sacrifices and triumphs. In fact, the smears that the left has propagated and will undoubtedly continue to push are nothing new: They are the same smears seen in textbooks disseminated in public schools and higher ed.

But Professor Thomas G. West does what others do not: Read the founders. His book Vindicating the Founders covers the biggest leftist critiques of the founders, from slavery to race to sex to property rights, and refutes the most egregious maligning of our forefathers with evidence. Patriots should arm themselves with West’s defense of the founders if they want to honor the creation of our country this coming July. 

Jordan Boyd

As a rule of thumb, I do my best to avoid the “Christian self-help” genre. Abby Halberstadt’s Hard Is Not the Same Thing as Bad: The Perspective Shift That Could Completely Change the Way You Mother, however, drew me — a severely sleep-deprived new mom desperate for some encouragement — in like no other. 

Halberstadt’s practical but colorful motherhood anecdotes and analysis provide a hope-filled, Scripture-based guide for women dedicated to powering through daily struggles to embrace their purpose. The short but sweet chapters gently explain why the struggles women use to justify a large glass of wine at the end of the day are necessary and even good for our spiritual growth. There are few better books I can recommend to moms who are up at some godforsaken hour of the night rocking a restless baby than the one penned by a homeschooling mother of 10 who clearly knows her share of hard.

I also took some time this year to re-familiarize myself with classics of all kinds, including Louisa Alcott’s Little Women. What stood out to me most on my umpteenth re-read of this sweet coming-of-age story is how perfectly American the March family is. Their faith in God, devotion to family, love for their neighbors, and commitment to self-improvement truly exemplify what it means to be a good citizen in pursuit of the American dream. In the midst of debates about mass immigration and what it means to be an American, Little Women serves as a reminder of what a healthy civic culture looks like.

Elle Purnell

John Steinbeck is my favorite author, and the tales of King Arthur have been some of my husband’s favorite stories since childhood. When I learned the Californian writer had his own retelling of the English myth, a copy of Steinbeck’s The Acts of King Arthur and His Noble Knights quickly made its way into my husband’s Christmas stocking last year. We read through it together this year and both thoroughly enjoyed it. 

Steinbeck worked on the book for years but cast it aside in 1959 and never finished it; the manuscript was published in 1976 after his death. In the foreword to the 2007 printing, Christopher Paolini calls it an “incomplete collection of first and second drafts.” It contains familiar stories and characters such as Merlin, Morgan le Fay, Lancelot, Guinevere, and of course, Arthur — as well as some shorter, lesser-known tales. The book ends before it reaches some of the more famous passages of Sir Thomas Malory’s Le Morte d’Arthur, from which Steinbeck adapted it, but the ending is still Steinbeck’s signature combo of cliffhanger and totally satisfying. 

He began the project as an attempt to translate Malory’s classic, but as the book evolves Steinbeck begins to take more liberties and his signature style is increasingly present. If you’re unimpressed by the first few chapters, the general consensus is that each chapter is better than the last, culminating in Steinbeck’s retelling of the tale of Sir Lancelot. It’s an unusual genre for Steinbeck, but his wry style works beautifully with the rich subject matter. 

For all its gritty realism, Steinbeck’s magnum opus, East of Eden, is — like the tales of King Arthur — a tragic romance, an ode to a beloved homeland, and an epic tale of man’s battle against his sin nature. Like his other works, Steinbeck’s retelling of Camelot endears the best of men and women to the reader, and portrays the worst of them with equal candor. Originally written for young, male readers, his characters — equal parts human and heroic — will delight adults too.

Nathanael Blake

After another year of reading some great books, and reviewing a few of them, I think the book of the year is Leah Libresco Sargeant’s The Dignity of Dependence: A Feminist Manifesto. I have little to add to my review from a few months ago, except to reiterate that this is the book we need at a time when men and women are only increasingly alienated from each other. Instead of the false ideal of autonomy embraced by most feminists (an ideal that leads to treating women as defective men), Sargeant emphasizes the need for solidarity and complementarity in response to human difference and dependency.

I would also recommend Begotten or Made? by the theologian Oliver O’Donovan. Originally published in 1984, and republished in 2022, this is still an important Protestant reflection on reproductive technology, especially IVF. As the IVF industry embraces eugenics, pro-life Christians who know that human life begins at conception need to think clearly about how we are to treat human embryos.

Shawn Fleetwood

With the Supreme Court becoming more newsworthy by the day, it’s worth your time to dig into some of its key members, both past and present. And what better place to start than with former Associate Justice Antonin Scalia?

In Scalia: Rise to Greatness, 1936-1986, author James Rosen takes readers through the formative years of one of America’s most compelling legal minds. From documenting his early life to his time at the Justice Department and D.C. Circuit Court, Rosen paints a vivid picture for readers as they learn more about the man who would go on to become a pioneer of originalism while serving on the nation’s highest court.

Keeping in line with the SCOTUS theme, another great book I recommend is Evan Thomas’ First: Sandra Day O’Connor. While not an originalist like Scalia. O’Connor’s life is a fascinating one that Thomas explores with exceptional historical detail.

And if the Supreme Court isn’t your thing, then consider picking up a copy of Mark Clifford’s The Troublemaker: How Jimmy Lai Became a Billionaire, Hong Kong’s Greatest Dissident, and China’s Most Feared Critic. The book tells the life story of Jimmy Lai, a pro-democracy Hong Kong media tycoon and activist currently under arrest by Chinese Communist Party-backed authorities for the crime of standing up for freedom in the city he calls home. 

Stella Morabito

At the beginning of 2025 there was much ado on social media about Julian Jaynes’ book The Origin of Consciousness in the Breakdown of the Bicameral Mind (1976.) Jaynes believed that human consciousness arose from the development of metaphorical language. This allowed us to think for ourselves, thus escaping the brain’s “bicameral” process of answering to hallucinatory commands. David Samuels sparked renewed interest in that book with his article for Tablet, suggesting that totalitarian propaganda sends people back into a primitive mindset such as the one Jaynes wrote about. Whether you agree with Jaynes’ thesis or not, it’s a very intriguing read.

Harriet Beecher Stowe’s 1852 classic novel Uncle Tom’s Cabin serves in woke-crazed times as a wake-up call on human nature and the uniqueness of the individual. After a thorough reading, I found Tom to be a Christ-like figure who never deserved the “Uncle Tom” epithet thrown around by people who’ve never read the book. Though he accepted his fate as a slave, Tom utterly rejected any attempt to hurt anybody or to make him betray his deep faith in God. That refusal got him tortured and killed. 

A few other fascinating reads from my past year include Diana West’s American Betrayal, Neil Postman’s The Disappearance of Childhood, and Robertson Davies’ Deptford Trilogy (especially the first book, Fifth Business).

Hayden Daniel

Over the last couple of years, a lot of Americans have become interested in learning why World War II took place and why Nazi Germany lost. Suffice to say, there are a lot of, um, interesting theories floating around right now on those subjects.

But if you want a serious and exhaustive study into why the war began and ended the way that it did for Germany, I must recommend Adam Tooze’s The Wages of Destruction: The Making and Breaking of the Nazi Economy. This book isn’t just about inflation graphs and trade balances — it’s about the nuts and bolts of how Germany was able to wage an ultimately futile war against the Western Allies and the Soviet Union.

Because of TV, movies, and video games, we tend to think of Nazis as cackling evil geniuses who could whip up advanced doomsday weapons with a snap of their black-gloved fingers — that is, we buy into the propaganda that the Nazis created for themselves.

In reality, the Nazi economy teetered on the brink of total collapse for practically the regime’s entire 12-year existence and struggled to match even a fraction of Allied industrial output.

At certain points in the book, this becomes almost comical. Case in point: The Germans began developing a new ground attack fighter called the Me 210 in 1939. Several hundred Me 210s had been built before the project was scrapped after test pilots discovered that the wings had the nasty habit of falling off when they took the Me 210 into a dive — you know, the thing you have to do to attack a ground target. And when they did manage to innovate, like with the world’s first jet fighter and the precursor to all modern submarines, they were never able to produce these impressive weapons in enough numbers to affect the course of the war.

If you only read one history book in the next year, make it this one. I guarantee it will change the way you think about World War II.

In contrast to Nazi inefficiency, Dan Wang chronicles the ruthless efficiency of the Chinese Communist Party in transforming China’s economy in Breakneck: China’s Quest to Engineer the Future.

Wang draws a clear divide between the “lawyerly society” that dominates the United States — one preoccupied with rules and regulations to the detriment of economic expansion — and the “engineer society” of modern-day China — one preoccupied with building things. The current Chinese regime places a premium on building physical things — roads, bridges, factories — while the U.S. stifles such projects under mountains of paperwork and committee hearings.

This accounts for the sobering disparity between the U.S. and China in STEM degrees. While U.S. students pursue ever more useless degrees in Theater of Gender Studies, Chinese students, including the large contingent sent to American universities, are gaining advanced technical degrees at an alarming rate.

But perhaps the most important distinction he draws between the U.S. and China is each country’s attitude toward AI. While the U.S. has embraced artificial intelligence and is increasingly incorporating it into daily life, the Chinese government remains wary of the technology, according to Wang. The CCP correctly identifies that AI will lure people away from the physical realm and into ideological oblivion.

But Wang isn’t totally pessimistic about the China-U.S. rivalry. He believes that if the U.S. can rediscover its love of engineers — those who drove its remarkable growth in the 1950s and ’60s — we can still easily outcompete China and remain the dominant superpower. If you’re looking for a deft explanation of China’s current outlook and how it plans to challenge the United States for global dominance, I recommend picking up a copy of Breakneck.

A century before the American colonists declared their independence, England had its own revolution. While the English Civil War lasted nine years, dramatic social upheaval plagued the country for most of the 17th century. Disparate ideologies from proto-communist “Levellers” to divine right absolutism competed to change England into their own version of utopia. In contrast to other European states, which became increasingly centralized and absolutist, 17th-century England ultimately moved toward the parliamentary democracy and constitutional monarchy that it holds today.

Jonathan Healey explores this chaotic and transformative time period in The Blazing World: A New History of Revolutionary England, 1603-1689. The book serves as a cautionary tale on how quickly revolutionary movements can spread and spiral out of control.

But perhaps the most remarkable part of this book is that almost every issue that would cause the American Revolution, from no taxation without representation to the quartering of soldiers, was also a cause of the English Civil War in the 1640s. If you want to see where the seeds of the modern United Kingdom and United States were planted, give The Blazing World a read. If nothing else, the book contains an assortment of the best English names you will ever read: Bulstrode Whitelocke, Praisegod Barebone, and Marchamont Nedham, just to name a few.

Ilya Shapiro

Every year I’m reminded that the hardest part of recommending books isn’t choosing what to read, but choosing what not to leave out. My nightstand is a rotating tower of half-finished titles, but a few manage to cut through the noise with insight, beauty, or sheer urgency. This year’s picks share none of the same subjects, but each left a mark: One reframes a national constitutional crisis, another evokes a vanished world with lyrical force, and a third tackles the ideological turmoil reshaping American higher education. Together they made 2025 a memorable reading year.

In Rogue Justice: The Rise of Judicial Supremacy in Israel, Yonatan “Johnny” Green, co-founder of Israel’s equivalent of the Federalist Society, explains how Israel’s Supreme Court became the most powerful in the democratic world. Through lucid accounts of key cases and institutional reforms, he shows how doctrines of standing, justiciability, and “reasonableness” quietly expanded judicial power far beyond anything envisioned by Israel’s founders. The result is a juristocracy that routinely overrides elected officials and Basic Laws alike. You need not follow Israeli politics obsessively to profit from this book; it’s an indispensable case study in what happens when courts forget their constitutional role.

Tamara Trottner’s Nadie Nos Vio Partir is a haunting, elegantly crafted memoir of Mexican Jewry in the 1960s, now also a Netflix hit under the title No One Saw Us Leave. From a child’s vantage point, Trottner recounts her father’s abduction of her and her brother and her mother’s years-long struggle to bring them home across continents, courtrooms, and communal politics. She braids intimate family memory with a textured portrait of Mexico City’s Jewish elite, patriarchy, and exile. The series is superbly produced, but the book’s voice and moral clarity linger even longer, and it deserves an English translation soon.

And I’ll shamelessly plug my own book, Lawless: The Miseducation of America’s Elites, because it’s what I think is an important contribution to a key part of national discourse. Part memoir of my Georgetown cancellation saga, part report from inside the elite law schools that train our future judges, regulators, and corporate counsel, it chronicles how activist students, ideological administrators, and risk-averse deans have hollowed out legal education. Instead of learning to argue, students learn to take offense and demand investigations. That illiberal culture won’t stay on campus; it’s already reshaping the institutions Americans rely on for justice, governance, and basic competence. This is my personal brief for saving our universities before they further warp our republic.

Kylee Griswold

Two particular reads stand out to me this year. The first is C.S. Lewis’ Mere Christianity. Frankly, I’m embarrassed it’s taken me this long to read this masterpiece. It’s brief and digestible, but it packs a punch. Each chapter gave me something new to chew on, and I’d recommend it to anyone else who’s late to the party, both Christian and non-Christian alike.

In the book, which is really an adapted collection of radio talks Lewis gave during the Second World War, the author tackles many objections to Christianity. For unbelieving readers, he takes their doubts and questions head-on. For the believing, he supplies practical language that not only fortifies the apologist’s toolkit but also inspires evangelistic courage and clarity. It’s never too late to crack this old book, and I’m eager to read it again.

The second is Mollie Hemingway and Carrie Severino’s Justice on Trial: The Kavanaugh Confirmation and the Future of the Supreme Court. When that book was released in 2019, Mollie gave me a signed copy, which I promptly passed along to my mom, a Mollie Hemingway superfan. I’d consumed many excerpts as a Federalist employee, and was absorbed in the story as a D.C. dweller, but before this year, I’d never read the book cover to cover. But let me tell you, this is a book everyone should read in full. It’s a remarkable case study in how Democrats and their media co-conspirators manufacture hoaxes. The audiobook is an added treat, as the co-authors alternate narrating the chapters themselves. 

An honorable mention is Ericka Andersen’s forthcoming Freely Sober: Rethinking Alcohol Through the Lens of Faith, which is available for preorder and will be released on Jan. 6. I’m reading it now for an upcoming interview with the author on The Kylee Cast, and it’s made me think about how God’s good gifts can captivate and control us when we submit to them rather than bringing them into submission.

Joshua Monnington

My read of Slow Productivity didn’t end with me switching to a 10-month work year and creating James Bond like Ian Fleming did, but Cal Newport’s follow-up to Deep Work did help me see work from a different perspective and consider how common approaches to productivity can be flawed. Newport lays out three principles — “Do fewer things,” “Work at a natural pace,” and “Obsess over quality” — but he doesn’t leave it at the theoretical. In addition to the story about Fleming’s approach to writing, the author adds other real-life examples, along with different strategies for avoiding unproductive busyness and focusing on the work that really matters.

Targeted: Beirut is the first in a series of nonfiction books penned by Jack Carr (author of The Terminal List) and James M. Scott. The book is a grisly, gritty reminder that America’s death struggle with Islamic terror began long before the Sept. 11 attacks. Carr and Scott recount the tragic Marine deployment to Lebanon through the eyes of the grunts on the ground, while also delving into the inner deliberations and conflicts of the Reagan administration, in particular the ongoing clash between Secretary of State George Shultz and Secretary of Defense Caspar Weinberger.

Before he became Trump’s Food and Drug Administration commissioner, Marty Makary authored Blind Spots, a pithy volume on the misadventures of medical studies and dictums and the establishment that spawned them. In each chapter, Makary details a blunder of modern medicine and offers a common-sense response. Free of unnecessary jargon and easily readable, Blind Spots is a great gift for the MAHA enthusiast.

Though the praise and admiration often go to the tome-tacklers, there’s much to be said for the short story. Agatha Christie and Flannery O’Connor are two of its masters, and the brevity of the form does little to bridle their exploration of the darker side of human nature. Christie’s Hercule Poirot: The Complete Short Stories is the only 800-plus-page collection I’ve ever encountered that could be classified as breezy and enjoyable, but following the little Belgian (not French!) detective around the U.K. and the Continent as he employs “the little grey cells” to solve mysteries of murder and human psychology is a rollicking good time.

O’Connor’s A Good Man Is Hard to Find and Other Stories are anything but a rollicking good time — the impending sense of doom that only gathers steam as the stories progress squelches that — but they are enjoyable nonetheless. Her incisive, brutal portrayals of human nature are so piercingly clear and lively that they actually hurt a bit. Oh, yes, and read Animal Farm (again if needed), and ship out copies to all your young friends (and old) who are warm to Mamdani-ism so they can read about how wonderful socialism and communism truly are.

Helen Raleigh

This year marks the 75th anniversary of the Korean War. A particularly intriguing aspect of this conflict, which has not been extensively explored, is that at the end of the war, two-thirds of the 21,000 Chinese prisoners of war (POWs) ended up in Taiwan, while only one-third returned to Communist China. Allen Dulles, the CIA director at the time, referred to this outcome as “one of the greatest psychological victories achieved by the free world against Communism.”

In his gripping book, The Hijacked War: The Story of Chinese POWs in the Korean War, David Cheng Chang provides a comprehensive analysis of why so many Chinese POWs chose not to return to China. He argues that the substantial number of anti-repatriation sentiments among the POWs forced an embarrassed Communist China to prolong the Korean War by an additional fifteen months. This important book provides fresh insights into this often overlooked aspect of history.

Another book that profoundly affected me in 2025 was Faith, Hope, and Carnage by the Australian singer-songwriter Nick Cave. This compelling work is based on long-form interviews conducted by journalist Sean O’Hagan during the challenging times of the Covid-19 pandemic in 2020. Cave’s experience of losing his son Arthur in 2015 serves as a poignant backdrop for this exploration. The book delves into how that devastating loss, accompanied by the grief that ensued, his deep-seated religious beliefs, and the isolating lockdowns have shaped his songwriting, affected his relationships with family and friends, and influenced his perspective on the fragility of life.

In one particularly insightful interview, Cave states, “There is a great deficit in the language around grief. It’s not something we are practiced at as a society because it is too hard to talk about and, more importantly, it’s too hard to listen to.” This book not only fills that crucial gap but also resonates deeply with anyone who has experienced the loss of a loved one, offering comfort and understanding in the often silent journey through grief.

Mark Hemingway

I read a lot of varied stuff this year, and was pleasantly surprised by how much of it I liked. It helped that I went on this weird jag of reading a bunch of biographies of comedians. The biography I enjoyed the most was Martin Short’s I Must Say. Ever since Norm died, Short hasn’t had much competition in the funniest man alive category. And while the book is funny — so much so that I recommend the audiobook so you can hear Short do the characters — there was also a lot of pathos here. Short’s trajectory as a comedian is probably explained by the fact that both of his parents and an older brother were dead by the time he graduated high school. And much of the book is also dedicated to discussing his beloved wife of 30 years, who died tragically of cancer in 2010. But it’s funny, I promise!

Early in the year, I read Days of Rage by Bryan Burrough, pretty much the definitive account of the Weather Underground and all of the related left-wing domestic terror groups that rose out of the sixties and terrorized America for the next 20 years. The book is full of jaw-dropping information that has been largely memory-holed, such as this astonishing fact: “During an eighteen-month period in 1971 and 1972, the FBI reported more than 2,500 bombings on U.S. soil, nearly 5 a day.” The fact that most of these anti-American radicals, such as Bill Ayers, got away with organizing, attempting, or committing literal murder also helps contextualize the spate of left-wing violence we are currently enduring.

I liked Days of Rage so much I immediately followed that up with another of Burrough’s books, Public Enemies, which tells the true stories of the oft-mythologized criminals behind the interstate bank robberies of the 1930s, such as John Dillinger, Bonnie and Clyde, Pretty Boy Floyd, and Machine Gun Kelly. Efforts to stop this new breed of brazen criminal basically created the modern FBI, and Burrough does a masterful job telling a complicated story.

Candace Millard’s River of Doubt tells the true story of Teddy Roosevelt’s late-in-life mission to explore the Amazon. It’s an absolutely ripping adventure tale, with the added bonus of being well-documented and true. Jeff Guinn’s War on the Border, about America’s invasion of Mexico to capture Pancho Villa, explained a lot about the history of the U.S.-Mexico relationship that’s still relevant today.

I also read two widely acknowledged “Great American Novels” that I don’t see much discussed these days. The first was All the King’s Men, which I’d always been told was a “political” novel — but aside from the setting (the protagonist’s boss is clearly modeled on infamous Louisiana Gov. Huey Long), it’s a complicated family drama and an elegiac story of unrequited love, with some compelling jags about southern history. And man, is it gracefully written.

The second was A Prayer for Owen Meany. John Irving got famous for an anti-feminist novel (The World According to Garp), later wrote a pro-abortion novel (The Cider House Rules), and with Meany, he kind of split the difference. It’s explicitly pro-Christianity while still shoehorning in some liberal politics about the Vietnam War and the ’60s. Thankfully, Irving is the rare liberal who understands the value of not being didactic, and there’s just no getting around the fact Meany is one of the most amusing novels ever written. 

Finally, the Australian writer, poet, and critic Clive James died six years ago, and I’ll probably be catching up on James’ prolific output for the rest of my life. This year I read James’ The Fire of Joy: Roughly Eighty Poems to Get by Heart and Say Aloud. Written as James was dying, the book is a collection of his favorite poems from the last several hundred or so years of the Anglo canon, organized in a chronological fashion. Each poem is accompanied by a short essay explaining its literary and historical significance, and even on his deathbed James’ insight and wit are well on display. I laughed out loud when he declared Thomas Hardy’s poetry to be “more baroque than a baldacchino by Bernini.” If you enjoy poetry at all, whether a novice or a literature Ph.D., the book is, as the title promises, a joy.  

Thanks for reading, Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, and see you next year.

Mark Hemingway is the Book Editor at The Federalist, and was formerly a senior writer at The Weekly Standard. Follow him on Twitter at @heminator