Reading Tom Hanks

Tom Hanks and I have something in common: we both write fiction. If you’ve read this monthly column for a while, you may have known that about me. But did you know that about him?

Several years ago, when his short story collection, Uncommon Type, was published, I read the first several pages, found it promising, and bought it. I didn’t read it right away; my TBR (to be read) pile is rather like a mountain range.

When I finally picked it up, my expectations were modest. I hoped to enjoy some of the stories, but I wondered if celebrity had more to do with their publication than quality. Long story short, so to speak, it was quality.

I love long novels, but short stories have their advantages. (By short I mean between five and forty printed pages, give or take.) For one thing, they offer a complete reading experience in one sitting.

They stand alone, but in an anthology or collection they may also share a common thread. In Uncommon Type each story has a typewriter in it. In “These Are the Meditations of My Heart,” typewriters play a major role, though they’re already antiques.

A recently divorced woman is moving on, putting “the Knothead” behind her. She buys a toy typewriter for five dollars at a church fundraiser on a whim. At home she wonders what one does with a typewriter in the twenty-first century. She thinks of six things immediately.

The relic barely works and cannot be repaired, so she finds a shop and trades it in for a sixty-year-old, state-of-the-art Swiss model. The old man in the shop could be in a Harry Potter book, selling wands to young wizards. He all but says that a typewriter chooses its owner, not the reverse.

It’s a charming, thought-provoking, artfully layered story, about much more than typewriters, and it fits neatly into seventeen pages.

Short stories can’t be as complex as novels, but a well-crafted short story can conjure a whole world, bring a few characters to life, and engage the mind and heart in multiple ways at once. In fact, some of our best writing is found in short stories—because they’re short.

As a writer I may spend dozens of hours creating one short story. That sounds like a lot, but it’s not. A novel takes months or years. Because my investment is so much smaller, I can take bigger risks in a short story. I can try things I couldn’t sustain for hundreds of pages and tell tales that are too small for a novel. I can experiment. I can be weird.

This has advantages for the reader too. I usually don’t even start reading a novel unless I already expect to enjoy it. But I’ll read a short story in any genre by any author just because it’s there. Some of our best reading happens with short stories.

Because it’s short, I can take more risks as a reader too. And if the one I just read didn’t land for me, the next one is a different story. I’m a lot more willing to turn the page and take a chance.

One of the longer short stories in Uncommon Type is “The Past Is Important to Us,” which combines near-future sci fi with time travel to the past. As it begins, two men are flying to New York City in a private jet with a transparent fuselage. Imagine looking through the floor of your airplane to the ground 40,000 feet below.

These are among the richest men in the world, having invented and patented the Shuffle-Access Digital Valve-Relay. One of them is hooked on time-travel vacations through a company which uses their invention. You’d think going back in time for just 22 hours, to a specific New York City hotel room on June 8, 1939, during the World’s Fair, might not be worth repeating again and again at $6 million a pop, but Bert Allenberry thinks it is.

How did the future look from the past? How will the past look from the future? What if we could go back and try a different life? It’s a wrenching, surprising tale.

The whole collection worked for me. Tom Hanks, beloved actor and director, can flat-out write. His 2024 novel, The Making of Another Motion Picture Masterpiece, is now in my TBR pile, perhaps not for long.


Originally published by The American Fork Citizen in July 2026. Reprinted with permission.


From the Author

David Rodeback

Thanks for reading!

Comments are always welcome, within the bounds of common civility and relevance. There’s a place for them below. Absolutely no marketing, please.

Subscribe below to receive alerts of new posts by e-email.

If you liked what you read here, please consider sharing.

Do you enjoy reading fiction too? My two award-winning collections of short fiction and my new novel are available online at the usual retailers. Visit my press imprint, 60 East Press, to learn more.

Books to Read about 1776

Are you looking for a book to read this summer for our 250th national birthday? Here are some of my favorites about the American founding and our Revolutionary War, plus some I haven’t read yet, which others recommend. The first five are historical fiction; the rest are nonfiction. My focus here ends at about 1783, well before the framing of the US Constitution.

A proper American childhood includes Esther Hoskins Forbes’ classic novel, Johnny Tremain, a 1944 Newbery Award winner. Fourteen-year-old Johnny is apprenticed to a silversmith but suffers an injury and must find other work. He ends up involved in early events of the American Revolution.

Robert Lawson’s Ben and Me is another gem for young readers of all ages, with its mouse’s-eye view of Ben Franklin.

Kenneth Roberts’ novels for older readers are on my reading list. Arundel and Rabble in Arms portray the Revolutionary War from ordinary soldiers’ perspectives. Oliver Wiswell portrays the period’s bitter realities and profound personal conflicts from an American Loyalist’s perspective. There’s more than one side to every story.

In nonfiction I devoured a lot of Landmark Books as a young reader, including Paul Revere and the Minutemen, Ben Franklin of Old Philadelphia, and The American Revolution. Every Landmark Book I ever read was engaging.

I’m a fan of the late historian David McCullough. Some historians grumble that he focused too much on telling the stories and too little on historical analysis, and too much on accomplishments and too little on character flaws, or that he didn’t engage in a proper leftist deconstruction of the American experiment. Yet readers flock to his books. You couldn’t make better choices this summer than 1776 and John Adams. History didn’t have to happen as it did, McCullough often said, and it very nearly didn’t.

For me George Washington is a hero among heroes. I recommend Joseph J. Ellis’s His Excellency: George Washington. Ellis cuts through the larger-than-life mythology to portray George Washington as a real person. Since I realize all humans are flawed, this doesn’t tarnish my hero. I find hope and encouragement in the accomplishments of real, imperfect people.

The Real George Washington: The True Story of America’s Most Indispensable Man by Jay A. Parry and Andrew M. Allison is a readable biography which embraces what some historians prefer to ignore or debunk: Washington’s faith and moral strength. The last 200 pages are selections from Washington’s writings, organized by topic.

Young readers will likely enjoy Ingri D’Aulaire and Edgar Parin D’Aulaire’s George Washington, a picture book with plenty of biographical meat on the bone.

Two of my out-of-the-box favorites about this period are Eric Burns’ Infamous Scribblers: The Founding Fathers and the Rowdy Beginnings of American Journalism and Bruce E. Johansen’s Forgotten Founders: How the American Indian Helped Shape Democracy. A promising young historian I know recommends Alan Taylor’s American Revolutions and, on the Declaration itself, Pauline Maier’s American Scripture.

I love to read historical figures’ own words, including their letters and speeches. Here I recommend six beautiful books from the vast Library of America series: Thomas Jefferson: Writings, George Washington: Writings, and four I’ve only browsed: two volumes of The American Revolution: Writings from the Pamphlet Debate; and two of Benjamin Franklin’s words. For a smaller but still robust dose of Franklin, grab a copy of his autobiography instead.

You might consider reading Thomas Paine’s Common Sense, a 47-page, bestselling incendiary device that ignited public debate about independence in January 1776.

My future reading list also includes Joseph J. Ellis’s highly-regarded Founding Brothers: The Revolutionary Generation and Walter Isaacson’s Benjamin Franklin: An American Life.

Perhaps you’ve noticed a lot of men’s names in these titles and wondered about the women. I have sampled and recommend The Letters of John and Abigail Adams. Others recommend, but I haven’t read, Woody Holton’s biography, Abigail Adams: A Life, and Carol Berkin’s Revolutionary Mothers: Women in the Struggle for America’s Independence.

I’ve read about half of these books and sampled most of the rest. This summer I plan to reread 1776. Then, if I can resist rereading Johnny Tremain next, I’m tempted toward Oliver Wiswell. It’s almost 1,200 pages, so it may stretch beyond summer. But I love a long novel, even a very long novel. Maybe I’ll take up the Adams’s correspondence at the same time. That’s another 500 pages or so. Whatever else we read this summer, let’s not forget to reread the Declaration of Independence. Preferably aloud. For added effect, read all the signers’ names aloud too.


Here’s a recording of me reading the Declaration of Independence aloud a few years ago, in case you’d prefer to listen and read along. Here’s a link to the transcription I used at the National Archives.

Originally published in The American Fork Citizen in June 2026. Reprinted with permission.

Photo by Ernie Journeys on Unsplash.


From the Author

David Rodeback

Thanks for reading!

Comments are always welcome, within the bounds of common civility and relevance. There’s a place for them below. Absolutely no marketing, please.

Subscribe below to receive alerts of new posts by e-email.

If you liked what you read here, please consider sharing.

Do you enjoy reading fiction too? My two award-winning collections of short fiction and my new novel are available online at the usual retailers. Visit my press imprint, 60 East Press, to learn more.

Wanted: 250 American Fork Memories

Can you spare a happy memory? It’s for a birthday celebration.

I was recently invited to be the guest editor for a project we’re calling American Fork Memories. It’s part of American Fork’s official celebration of our nation’s 250th birthday.

From May 1 through August 31, we’re gathering and publishing 250 short, positive memories of life and work in American Fork. You can read them as we post them at afmemories.substack.com. When you go there, Substack will ask you to join and subscribe—both are free and require only an e-mail address—but you can bypass that and just read. If you do join Substack and subscribe to American Fork Memories, we’ll send you digests of memories by e-mail from time to time.

Just remembering is an act of civic and moral consequence, but please consider writing and submitting one of your memories. It should be 200–300 words long, roughly one-third the length of this column. We’ll publish one memory per person. Details and instructions for submitting your memory are at our Substack.

I already wrote mine. I chose one about the American Fork High School Marching Band. I connected it to two tragic memories, but the editor (cough) found it positive enough to qualify.

I’ve lived in six states and studied in Russia for a while. I’ve found good people in all those places. Some of my memories could have happened anywhere, I suppose, but they happened in American Fork. I’ll mention a few among many.

What I, the Reader, Owe the Author

Some books cost more than others. I don’t mean the dollars we pay for them. I mean the work done by the author and others, despite life’s challenges, great and small.

If you’ve seen the professional musicians in my family perform, you know they’re wonderfully talented. I watch them offstage too, so I see how much work they’ve invested to become the musicians they are, besides their preparations for specific performances. They never stop working and learning.

Writing is like that. About a dozen years ago, I decided to write fiction. That is, I decided to learn to write fiction. For decades I had written other things, with some success and sometimes professionally. But writing fiction is a different adventure.

How to Solve the NBA’s Tanking Problem

I love basketball, and I’m a Utah Jazz fan, but I’ve watched very little of the NBA this season. Too many teams are trying to lose games by the bushel to improve their draft position, including the Jazz. Losing is part of the game, but intentionally losing shouldn’t be. It ruins the product.

A Personal Tribute to Jeffrey R. Holland

Multitudes of BYU students, Latter-day Saints, and others met Jeffrey R. Holland at a pulpit or in his writings, where he changed lives, including mine. Relatively few of us sat at his feet day after day in a classroom.

When I arrived for the first day of the freshman Book of Mormon class he taught in my first semester at BYU, I was already a voracious reader of everything from history to mystery. I had read the entire Bible and Book of Mormon. So this will sound strange: in that class he taught me to read.

We Still Need Public Libraries

I’ve been thinking about public libraries. I’ve been in several recently, besides my own in American Fork. I had events at libraries in Provo, Logan, Herriman, Springville, and downtown Salt Lake City, plus an offsite fund-raiser for a new Alpine library.

I also saw news of an imperiled library near Logan. To save taxpayer dollars, some Cache County elected officials proposed closing it and leaving some county residents without free access to a library.

Obviously, not everyone values or uses public libraries. It can sound, oh, so trendy and wise to declare that whatever a library can offer is readily available on the Internet. It can sound, oh, so conservative and fiscally responsible to assert that whatever the taxpayers pay for libraries is too much.

I’m generally conservative but not obsessed with pinching every taxpayer penny. I’d rather conserve a civilization, including a political culture of self-government and an economic culture stacked with opportunities for have-nots to become haves. If this conservation were a shooting war, public libraries would be main battle tanks. They’re the point of the spear.

A Very Short Christmas Story in Lieu of a Column

Hi. I’m Nani. I’m a girl in Mrs. Eberding’s fifth grade class. Yousef’s in the class too. We’re the ones who read outside, behind the school, even when it’s cold, instead of having lunch in the cafeteria. I do it because I don’t like the cafeteria or the kids in it, and Mom lets me make my own sandwich. Yousef does it because he doesn’t eat lunch.

Once I offered him half my sandwich and learned his family doesn’t take charity. Or handouts like free school lunch, he said.

Another day, he was sad and wasn’t reading. I thought maybe they’d teased him about his thrift store clothes again. “They say I should go back where I came from,” he said.

“But you’re from here, your parents too, and everybody’s legal!”

“They don’t care.” He slipped something into his coat pocket.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Nothing.”

“What is it?”

He stared at me. “Don’t laugh. And you can’t tell anybody.”