The Sun Also Rises By Ernest Hemingway

This is my first experience with Hemingway, unless I read one of his short stories in college. I have to say, while I’m not enamored, I felt something about this book. Hemingway is either non-descriptive, or too specifically descriptive. He’s dialogue heavy. His characters are allegedly boring, and yet there’s something of the melancholic hopeful throughout this. It’s very easy, to me, to see Hemingway’s mental state in the pages.

From page 42: It is awfully easy to be hard-boiled about everything in the daytime, but at night it is another thing.

From page 152: Enjoying living was learning to get your money’s worth and knowing when you had it. You could get your money’s worth. The world was a good place to buy in…. Perhaps it wasn’t true, though. Perhaps as you went along, you did learn something. I did not care what it was all about. All I wanted was to know how to live in it.

There are several small moments like that through the whole book. Snippets of a glimpse into someone trying to live the life he thinks he’s supposed to, but not seeing the point of much of it.

I’ve noticed with the classic authors, male in particular, they have a peculiar way of approaching love in their stories. Hemingway’s character Brett (Lady Brett Ashley) is known for her “flighty” ways between men of the story. She has had affairs with just about all of the main circle. He never explicitly says this is a problem, but for the time this book was written, I’m not sure if he was trying to make her out to be as lost as the rest of them, or if he was trying to make a comment on women in general.

Brett is quick to fall in love, and there’s a part of me that wonders if maybe that’s more her way of trying to find a connection that makes her feel “right.” She’s very much a flash in the pan type character, where her whimsy takes flight about as frequently as it lands, and I think she’s a strong character in many ways.

This is the kind of book that I’d write a whole paper over. Not just a review. There are several layers to it, where we can go into why Hemingway was so focused on the bull-fights in the second half of the book, and what he was going for with the descriptions of the fiesta. The motivations of characters like Robert Cohn, who is a very weepy man in love with Brett and despondent he can’t be with her. Or Bill, who hides his pain in his humor. Mike, who drinks to excess because he can’t face his fiancee is unfaithful, but tries to put on a good show for the others about it.

And then there’s Jake. The journalist who’s just trying to find his place in the world, as with all the others. It’s a thought provoking book in many ways, and I think it was a good Hemingway to read. There are several of his technical elements that made me pause, especially where it seems he has descriptions that appear redundant, but maybe that was the way in his time.

Overall, I would say this was a good book to start my Book Bingo Board with, and I give this 7/10 stars.

Until next time, friends.

Books of the Year 2025 Edition

Hello! Good morning. It’s still morning, I think? Yes. 10:37 a.m. as of this very moment. Hi! Welcome. So, this is my list of books I liked a whole lot this year. One or two of them on this list I’ve already done full posts on so I won’t go too deeply into them, but I’ll still give them the “heyo” on the list they deserve.

And so! In no particular order of importance, I give you my books of the year for 2025.

Solaris by Stanislaw Lem

This book gave me a ton of questions to ponder after I finished reading it. Very heavily themed on how psychology affects science, and whether or not we can find answers without it. Or that’s how I took it. I think I could have taken it a different way than intended, but there’s something one of the characters says that makes me feel like I’m a bit on the right path. Well, a few things said, but one in particular.

“But what’s its name? We have named all the stars and all the planets, even though they might already have had names of their own. What a nerve!”

This small moment really stabbed me right in the brain and it made me think of how we give words to things that may already have words of their own. But do those words exist if they aren’t spoken? See, this is one of those books that sent me on several different thought spirals. I really enjoyed the pondering it gave me. My main question at the end of the book (I actually wrote in pencil at the very end) was, “does compassion exist in science outside the realm of psychology or does it exist to temper curiosity?” I recommend this book if you want to think too much about a planet that doesn’t exist. I gave this book 8/10 stars.

Once There Were Wolves by Charlotte McConaghy

I don’t really have much to say about this one other than I thoroughly enjoyed it. Might be because I read it while camping, so sitting by the fire in one of my blankets and reading in the quiet of an autumn morning. But this book is a fantastic juxtaposition of murder mystery with wolves and their importance to conservation efforts. I really liked that aspect, too. It’s not preachy. It’s a genuine scientific approach to conservation that isn’t just “the trees are the only thing that are keeping us alive!” I liked how the mystery fit into the plot. I didn’t read it as a mystery so much as a book about wolves and there happens to be some murder. It’s also a book about sisters and the loss of a solid familial foundation. I wholeheartedly recommend this one. This book got 8/10 stars.

Atonement by Ian McEwan

This is one I already did a post on, so I won’t blather on too long about it here. This is a beautiful book about being a kid trying to understand what the adults are doing and why they do what they do. I just went on a skim through some sections and reminded myself why I loved the book so much. It’s truly stunning, in my mind. I don’t remember what I gave this, so hang on while I go look at my own self. 9/10 stars

Logos by Nicholas Nikita

Another one I already did a post on, the first book I read this year, actually. And we are at the end of it where I’m still thinking about it. That’s pretty powerful stuff, yo. I don’t own this one, so it isn’t in the photo, but that doesn’t mean it’s less important. It’s an interesting look at the beginning of civilization and how people view and hold power. I gave it 8/10 stars.

Blood of Hercules by Jasmine Mas

Listen. I’m not about to claim this as groundbreaking literature. There are several elements of this that are … disliked, shall we say, by a lot of people. I loved this book. It’s hilarious. You have to have a certain kind of humor for some of the stuff in this book to be funny. I don’t care that there’s modern slang tucked in with a plethora of what we’d assume Greek mythological characters would be like. I legit just enjoyed this book. It’s not for everyone, but it brought me laughter and I will always adore something that makes me laugh. I give this 8/10 stars.

Everything is Tuberculosis by John Green

I’m not overly fond of John Green’s fiction, but his non-fiction? Absolutely my jam. My vibe. My “thanks, give me another.” In this book he discusses the fact that there is still a tuberculosis epidemic when in the USA, we’ve all but eradicated it. It all boils down to what the pharmaceutical companies would describe as “cost-effectiveness.” I recommend this book if you want to have a quick look into the world outside the US at a disease that rampages through other communities. I give this book a 9/10 stars.

The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver

This book sat on my shelf for over a decade. I returned it to a donate pile, and then I happened upon it again in the wild, and decided to buy it once more just in case I felt like I could read it.

Well, I did. And it broke my heart. But not like… broken broke. It showed the struggle of a white family with a pastor patriarch living in the Congo in 1959. This is a fictionalized version of history, but that history was still happening. The Congo fought for its independence, and that fight trickled into the rural areas, and dangers of many kinds came for the Price family. I don’t have many more words past this is such a harrowing look at how religion can hold onto a person in face of perils, and how family can fracture in the wake of those perils. It has tragedy. It has love. It has tension. I gave this 9/10 stars.

Slonim Woods 9 by Daniel Barban Levin

What a powerful piece of writing, my goodness. This memoir follows the journey of one of the members of the students at Sarah Lawrence who formed a miniature cult under the charisma of Larry Ray. There is a lot of heft in this. Details of mental, physical, and sexual abuse that is often rampant within cults. Not all cults, but most of them. Daniel is a poet, and that shows very beautifully throughout this book. It’s not one I would say read if you’re in a weird mind space because it is so heavy. I’d heard about this whole thing before, but it was when I watched a video essay about the events that led to Larry’s arrest that I found Daniel’s book. I waited a bit to read it, because I knew it was going to be a lot, but I felt like I owed Daniel somehow. I learned about Larry, but I wanted to give more of my attention to his victims. I don’t know if the others in the house/apartment have written anything (something a quick search would reveal, obviously), but it’s a fascinating situation. How one man had so much control over a group of students. I gave this book 8/10 stars

Quicksilver by Callie Hart

Yes, another romantasy book, hush. No, it’s not groundbreaking. But I liked the fact the FMC is an alchemist, and I liked how she had to use her intelligence to solve problems instead of just be an angry Chosen one the whole time. There are things I don’t like about romantasy tropes, and this book does have a few of those, but it’s one I found interesting enough in spite of the tropes to want to read the sequel. I just need it in paperback. I gave this book 7.5/10 stars.

The Witchstone by Henry H. Neff

From my goodreads review: “absolute banger of a book. It’s not a new story, but it’s certainly a fun take on the hero’s journey. Truly enjoyed this read.”

So eloquent. But in all seriousness, this book is truly a fun jaunt into a different kind of take on the hero’s journey. It follows a demon who’s been rather lax in his maintaining of a family’s curse, and chaos ensues when he goes to the surface to get things moving properly along. He forms an unlikely alliance with the eldest child of the family as she attempts to “break” the curse, not knowing the demon wasn’t telling the truth when he said there was a possibility of breaking it. There’s banter, there’s weighty moments, there’s family. Gumption and spirit, pluck and defeat all feature in this book and I recommend it. There are some elements that were not popular with some readers, but that gets into spoiler territory and I don’t want to ruin the mood. I gave this book 8.5/10 stars.

And that’s all I have for today, friends. My plan for next year reading-wise is to do a Book Bingo board, and I’ll be doing a post/photo for each book I finish. So, look forward to that, I guess!

Thank you for reading my posts this year. I think I did better about posting, and I plan to continue that next year. If this year was rough for you, I hope you’re able to see through the rough to find the helpful. You made it through, and you get to keep striving forward. Thank you for being here. Thank you for trying even when you don’t want to. I promise it’s worth it. Might not feel like it ever, but I refuse to believe we’re meant to suffer our whole consciousness.

Until next time, friends. ❤

    Blood Meridian by Cormac McCarthy

    “If God meant to interfere in the degeneracy of mankind would he not have done so by now? Wolves cull themselves, man. What other creature could? And is the race of man not more predacious yet?”

    I was 102 pages in when the violence finally made me pause. It was a long pause. I don’t usually annotate books I read, but this one I started underlining and writing in margins (in pencil, as I’m not an entire heathen). My note on page 102-103 is, “this is the first instance where the violence struck me. Up until now, it’s almost been a desensitization, but the nonchalance of Glanton and the visceral description of the woman’s death is such a stark interjection within the sleepy atmosphere.”

    Glanton, the person I’d consider the main antagonist of this book (although others would call the Judge the antagonist, but we’ll get to him), kills this old woman by pointing one direction, and once her head’s turned, he shoots her point blank. Before this moment there are dozens of descriptions of violence, but it is the taciturn way in which Glanton takes this life that caught me so abruptly I had to step out of the story for a few days.

    I read this whole thing slowly.

    I needed to take my time with it because of a few things, but the biggest reason is how comfortable with the violence I got while reading. It’s a morbid lullaby, the way it weaves in and out of the ride through the untamed West. It seeps into your bones as you read, reminding you that you are part of it.

    It brought me back to how I felt about Tender is the Flesh last year, where I felt like I’d been the one to do the killing.

    Page 142: “The leaves shifted in a million spangles down the pale corridors and Glanton took one and turned it like a tiny fan by its stem and held it and let it fall and its perfection was not lost on him.”

    My note: “Glanton noting the perfection of a leaf is such a stark contrast to him killing the old woman a few chapters ago.”

    That is where I decided Glanton was the villain of this book. A man without true empathy wouldn’t be able to recognize the absurdity of pondering the machinations of a leaf while having spilling innocent blood.

    Page 184: “They passed through small villages doffing their hats to folk whom they would murder before the month was out.”

    My note: “How many people were killed during this time? How many forgotten because no one was left to remember them?”

    McCarthy is an acquired taste. He’s known for his rambling passages and infatuation with leaving punctuation out of his life. He has wisdom in his words, but sometimes it’s so buried within the mire of his writing style that one has to attempt multiple readings.

    This is not a book to read twice. It left me feeling heavy and empty at the end of it. All the violence, for what? To prove he could get away with it under the guise of literature? It’s very much a book that people say they love because it makes them sound and feel edgy. Like they’ve seen some things, man.

    Not everything needs to be a contest of sufferings.

    There’s such an absence of emotion from most of the characters as they go around killing for their government. Getting rid of the people there before them. It leaves a sour taste all through my digestive system as I try to empathize with any of the riders in Glanton’s crew. The one I could not find any sort of understanding for was the Judge.

    He and Glanton are made for each other in their insensate glorification of the blood they spatter. The Judge is the metaphor for the Devil, I assume, although I would say he’s the one who acts on behalf of the Devil, who as I said before is Glanton. But the darkness inside the Judge is a level that had me react physically to several of the lines he said.

    Page 207: “Whatever exists, he said. Whatever in creation exists without my knowledge exists without my consent.”

    And shortly after on page 208: “The freedom of birds is an insult to me. I’d have them all in zoos.”

    In all the books I’ve read in my life, there are two villains I’ve come across: the broken and the batshit. The broken ones, I’d toss Glanton in that category. He’s got a smidgeon of humanity in him because even though he doesn’t care what happens to the men on his crew, they are his crew and he treats them with a modicum of respect.

    The judge is the one I’d put in the batshit category. He says some of the most unhinged garbage I’ve ever read, and he says it with such an authority behind it. Like he knows that someday someone will find what he’s spoken and will choose to live by it. He believes himself invincible. One has to be crazy to truly believe that, right?

    There is a plot to this book, somewhere. What it is, I don’t know that I could say it’s linear. It’s more of a character study, where the Kid is placed in unbearable circumstances right from the beginning. It’s a test of who we really are at the end of whatever day. Do we stand by and allow ourselves to be swept into the current of hell racing toward us? Or do we fight that flushing of refuse and black bile back? Do we dig our feet into the earth and demand that darkness do its worst?

    We do not have to be heroes, but we have to be able to look at ourselves at the end of this romp through the meadows of life and say we were our truest selves. That no one ever made us compromise on who we are for safety. For the luxury of silence.

    7.5/10

    *******I read the 1992 First Vintage International edition*******

    Atonement by Ian McEwan

    “It wasn’t only wickedness and scheming that made people unhappy, it was confusion and misunderstanding; above all, it was the failure to grasp the simple truth that other people are as real as you.”

    I had this book sitting on my “I’ve read this” shelf and recently went looking for something else when I spotted it. It sat on my “I haven’t read this” shelf for a while because I knew the story already. I’m a big, big fan of the film adaptation of this book, and from the synopsis, it followed the story pretty accurately.

    I was not prepared for how deeply beautiful this book is. In the beginning, it’s told from the perspective of a thirteen-year-old girl who misunderstands something she sees out a window. A few more things happen within the space of an afternoon and evening, and as a result of her incorrect assumptions, lives are shifted into irreversible directions.

    The film follows the book nearly scene for scene, which I felt incredibly kind of Hollywood. The story is rather important in all its moving parts, as most are, but with something so delicately perched on the bevel of catastrophe, anything left out would render the whole thing meaningless.

    In reading some of the reviews, there were several people bothered by the fact the main character, Briony, doesn’t seem to “grow up” over the course of the book. This mainly stems from how she interrupts the rape of her cousin, and because of her false accusations sends an innocent family friend to prison.

    The book stays mainly in Briony’s perspective, so we see her grow into a young adult at the precipice of a country at war. She doesn’t take her place at Cambridge, and goes into nursing–like the sister who fled the family on the arrest of the family friend. Briony comments on knowing she was wrong in her youth, and several of the reviewers were upset the rape isn’t discussed past a certain point.

    My response to that is why would Briony talk about something that didn’t happen to her? I don’t mean that to sound callous, but as someone who’s experienced sexual violence, I don’t really find it pleasant to discuss. I don’t think the few people who know the situation sit around and talk about it amongst themselves either, so placing a responsibility on the main character to go into such an experience feels a little beside the point. She does eventually attend her cousin’s wedding, and it’s revealed her cousin marries the man who raped her (very much not the family friend). That and a few things Briony says at the end of the book are the only time it’s really mentioned again.

    I don’t find it her responsibility to process such an event. McEwan could have written Lola’s perspective into the book, but she wasn’t a main character, and so having her show up to think/talk about her experience would have disjointed the story entirely.

    The other thing people commented on was how the whole situation wasn’t important enough for a book. To that, I say, they missed the point. No one wants to read about a wealthy family crumbling because of misplaced accusations and a war. Not truly. But the depth of perspective we get from Briony shows us how penance cannot be achieved perfectly. By the end of the book, she is an old woman and discussing her regrets, so to speak, and what I love so much about it is the vast scope of her understanding, and the pain she has at not having her sister in her life.

    I know my opinions are not the right ones. But they are mine, and I see Briony as faulted, someone who caused tragedy and bore the weight of that tragedy the rest of her life. Some would say rightfully so, but I feel like those people forget what it was to be thirteen and not understand the world the way we see it as an adult. We know right from wrong, but if we don’t know the reason or the why for something, it’s hard to articulate the responsibility.

    9/10 stars

    *******I read the First Anchor Books 2003 paperback edition*******

    Logos by Nicholas Nikita

    Image taken from Amazon.com e-Book

    First read of the year and it’s a dang doozy. I found this while browsing the genres in Kindle Unlimited and the premise intrigued me enough to pop it in my library. It was a quick read in that I was able to read it in a few hours. The time it took me to read it should not detract from the quality of the story being told.

    Logos follows an unnamed boy for the majority of the book as he survives a primal land. He loses his parents to the night-beasts, and saves his newborn brother. The first part of the book covers the brothers purely surviving the harsh landscape as they travel to the mountains, where the eldest believes their parents are waiting with the sun god, Aeos. It shows the desperation of people simply trying to live, where water and food are dangerously scarce. The boys are attacked by men and beasts over the course of their journey, and when they finally reach the mountains, the boys are old enough to be considered young adults (or that’s how I read them to be). Lightning strikes a tree and starts a fire. This fascinates the boys and they cultivate the fire, feeding it so it stays alive. The youngest convinces his brother to keep it large enough to be a signal to others in the vicinity, hoping their curiosity about the light and smoke will bring people to them.

    The rise of this community is such a fascinating look at how socialization works. The boys are considered gods because they can hold the fire (on a stick, without burning their hands), and they can carry the fire. This sets up a dichotomy between them where the eldest becomes the more determined to build solidarity, to have sameness. Make sure people can speak the same language, ignoring the fact he’s bulldozing over other languages and practices in favor of his own creation. The boys are given names, Leos (the younger) who wears the skull and fur of a lion he killed, and Ra who wears the skull of an eagle (or some other large bird) he battled.

    There is an inevitability toward the end I won’t spoil, but what I liked so much about this was how clear the progression of understanding and coherent thought became as the story went on. The boys grew into men and their minds became their own, and that strong characterization showed how even when the world is full of unknown dangers and death, the more their minds worked, the more the world made sense.

    I don’t feel as though I’m properly explaining myself because it felt like recognizing something from before, like there’s an inherent desire to be. The brothers went in different directions with their curiosities and understandings of the same world they were presented. The eldest had far more experience in the danger than the younger, and so his was caution until it became maniacal. The youngest had the innocence of curiosity unfiltered by those experiences.

    I think this was a solid book to start the year off with, and I recommend it. It is rather dark and depraved in places, but I found that added to the primitive nature of the world in which the brothers lived. When one exhibits too radical a deviation from the comfort of routine, the other offers a balance and a command to return to familiarity. By the end, it’s a book about a boy trying to do the best he can for his little brother. It’s a deeply thought provoking book. I give this 8/10 stars.

    Books of 2024

    I figured why not start with a bang and go into the books I either liked the most or had a lot of thoughts about in 2024. My grand total of books read was 93. I did not, in fact, finish reading The Fires of Heaven by Robert Jordan like I promised my brother I would, but we’ll get into that later. The books I’ve chosen for this list are the ones that stuck with me throughout the whole year. Most of these I read months ago, and some I finished far earlier in the year, and they still stick with me.

    1. Tender is the Flesh by Agustina Bazterrica
    I feel like I need to say that if you are not the kind of person who reads heavy topics, this is not the book for you. A lot of the reviews I read of this said that it was disgusting and horrific and I feel like they missed the point of it. This book is not one to enjoy, necessarily. It’s one to make you think way too deeply about the state of humanity. It is a plunge into how people treat others, and that is such a superficial approach to it. It’s societally accepted cannibalism. There are humans bred specifically to become meat for other humans to consume. There are laws in place to “protect” the meat, and there are other things surrounding the “rights” of the ones being used to feed the masses. It’s told from the perspective of a production plant manager (I don’t remember his title officially) who’s dealing with his father going through Alzheimer’s, and a host of other issues both personal and professional. I will say that by the end of this book, I felt like I’d participated, and if you’ve read it, you know what I’m saying because the ending just left me bereft for a few days. I immediately recommended it to some of my friends. It is a purposeful calling out of people who mistreat others and also a scathing commentary on how society is structured. I gave this book 9/10 stars.

    2. The Man in the High Castle by Philip K Dick
    This book is on the list because it disappointed me and I’m still thinking about the ways it did and how it could have been better. I’ve not read any of Dick’s work before, so this was my introduction, and I was left wanting. He presented this incredible “what-if” scenario and then left it to the imagination for most of the events happening. So much of it occurred “off-screen” and I found that incredibly lackluster for such a stunning approach to alternate history. Especially since it’s for WWII, which has been a topic of debate ever since people realized they could theorize about the “what-ifs” of history. I started reading it because I watched the first episode of the show of the same name, and this is one of the few times I’ve uttered “the visual media is better than the book.” It gives substance to the ideas Dick presents in his book. It shows us the battles, the intrigue that’s hinted at within the subtleties of the writing. I’m glad I read it so I could see what it was, and I’m glad I watched the show (haven’t finished that yet) to expand on what the book could have been. I gave this 5/10 stars.

    3. Everwild by Neal Shusterman
    The second book of the Skinjacker trilogy by Shusterman made this list because it was the one that stuck with me the most. I think one of my favorite things about Shusterman’s storytelling is he invents new ways to approach death, which is such a difficult topic for anyone to discuss, but especially young adults. I do think sometimes the romances are a little unfinished and rushed into, but if that’s the only critique I have of his writing, I’d say that’s all right. I don’t know if it’s my appreciation for his writing that makes his books appear on my “that’s my favorite” lists, but there is something about his approach to illuminating the dark places of sadness that keeps me personally afloat when I could very easily sink. The trilogy as a whole is a stunning tale of lost children, and some of the ways they “go into the beyond” left me nearly weeping. This story is one I will think on, much like I think about his Arc of the Scythe series. I gave this book an 8/10 stars.

    4. Into the Wild by Jon Krakauer
    Ohhhh, this one broke my heart. This is the journalistic telling of Christopher Johnson McCandless, the young man who went into the Alaskan wilderness with nothing but a ten-pound bag of rice and serious hopes and dreams, and ended up losing his life due to some unconfirmed circumstances. He wasn’t murdered, but there is speculation he ate some poisonous seeds while he was already weak from malnutrition and he couldn’t survive. Krakauer retraces Christopher’s journey to this epic adventure, and he meets the people who were impacted while the young man was finding his way to his eventual demise. Several people called him an idiot, saying he had no business being in the wilderness with so little experience, some called him noble for following the passions of his heart, and his parents and family missed him terribly. Christopher burned bridges he didn’t need to, for reasons only he knew, and I think the hardest part of this story was seeing how his determination to do what he saw as necessary only alienated him from people who genuinely cared about him. It wasn’t so much the societal obligation of family, his parents legitimately worried about him and his sister lost one of the people she was closest to for a myriad of unknowns. Some people criticized Krakauer for glamorizing this tale, and I can see where they’re coming from, but for me this wasn’t a glamorization. It was a caution to be passionate, but be intelligent in passions that can kill you. Even the most experienced of wilderness dwellers can run into situations of extreme danger, and they will need to rely on their in-depth knowledge to survive. I admire Christopher’s drive to be who he was. I just wish the world had gotten more of it. I gave this book 9/10 stars.

    5. If We Were Villains by M. L. Rio
    If you don’t like Shakespeare, this is not the book for you. The characters quote it pretty much every page and it is a serious, dark tragedy being uncovered throughout the course of the story. It’s told in flashbacks, with present day scatterings throughout, and that format works well for this. A group of theater students at an exclusive college for the arts forms a tight bond. Their friendly rivalries become dangerous, however, in the last year. The opening night of their final performance, something horrible happens, and one of them is killed. Was it an accident? Self-defense? Malicious? Even flipping through it now to write this post, my throat is closing up on tears trying to escape for the sadness inside this book. One of my quotes for the year comes from within the pages, said by a character toward the end: “Nothing is so exhausting as anguish.” I loved these characters, and I was broken hearted by the time I finished this book. It was beautiful and I gave it 9/10 stars.

    6. We Only Find Them When They’re Dead: Book One, the Seeker by Al Ewing and Simone Di Meo
    I love science fiction. Once I discovered how vast a genre it is, my entire world opened up. Reading, yes, but also writing-wise. It encompasses the biggest part of being human: curiosity. There is curiosity in most genres, but in science-fiction, there are literally no limits. You can go into space, you can dive to the deepest pits of the ocean, and you can give it all a name that only makes sense to you. What I don’t love about science-fiction is how people tend to send their characters into space and then have them get spicy on a spaceship. There are several other things I dislike about modern science-fiction, but that is for an entirely different blog post. What this book did for me was give me the delight of curiosity I’ve hungered for. Humanity’s only food source is the bodies of dead gods that appear throughout the universe. One captain decides to find out where the gods are before they appear. This trilogy of graphic novels is stunning, both in art and storytelling. The characters are diverse and multi-faceted. They bring humanity into space and do something with that instead of arguing solely about politics and who owns what. There is some political arguing, but that’s simply the nature of the genre. I loved this series, and this part of it was incredibly magical for me when I first read it. I gave it 10/10 stars.

    7. All My Puny Sorrows by Miriam Toews
    Have you ever put a book on your list to read only to let it fester because you know it’s going to take a lot of your energy to read it and you don’t want to give those emotions much space just yet? That was this book for a few years. It’s been on my to-be-read shelf for at least three years, and I finally decided to read it. It’s about two sisters, one a concert pianist with a determination to die, and the other a single mother trying to keep everyone around her alive. The book hits on themes and thoughts I personally have had, both sides of the disease of depression, and I think I knew reading this one would be hard for me. It’s freeing to see your own thoughts on the page written by someone else, but it’s also incredibly exposing and leaves one feeling vulnerable to everything horrible. I read this book hoping it wouldn’t end the way I expected it to. I won’t say whether it did or not, because I don’t want to spoil it, but I will say it is worth the difficulty of being seen. I gave this book 9/10 stars.

    8. The Heart is a Lonely Hunter by Carson McCullers
    Even typing the title, I’m trying not to cry. The moment I finished this book, I wanted to ask Henry if he’d read it. McCullers published this when she was 23-years-old and I have never read anything by anyone that young who understood what it is to be human so clearly and purely. I initially wanted to read this book based on a quote I read probably a decade ago, “the way I need you is a loneliness I cannot bear.” I have it on an index card hanging on my wall right now, and it’s been on every wall in every place I’ve lived since I found the quote. It’s haunted me, and now that I have the context for it, I am not entirely shattered from it, but I am a different person in some ways. This is, without hesitation, one of the best books I’ve ever read in my life. It is about surviving life alone, surrounded by so many people. It’s about being a kid without understanding why the adults are so serious, until one day you do. It’s about wanting to be heard, but no one can fully know the depths of your knowledge because they don’t have the experience you do. It’s about trying to do right by children who grew away from everything you taught them. It’s about love, the purest kind, and it’s about longing. To be held, to be seen, to be. This book is a gift, and I will love it always. 10/10 stars.

    And that is the list I have. This is a long post, and I probably could have broken it into parts, but that’s not how I feel like living life today. I have reading intentions for the year ahead. I wanted to read 5 non-fiction books this last year, and I did. I want to continue that and make it a tradition this new year. I want to finish The Fires of Heaven because I do want to read the whole Wheel of Time series, but this one is the least compelling of the ones I’ve read so far. Rand is so annoying. I’ll probably post some book reviews this coming year, and I will absolutely be returning to the blog more frequently.

    If you made it this far, I hope you are doing well. If you are not, I hope you are able to find some peace, inner or external, either one I wish upon you. You were not born to this world to suffer. Thank you for being here, and thank you for taking time to read this list of books that made my 2024 a solid year.

    Until next time, friends.

    House of Leaves by Mark Z. Danielewski


    You might try then, as I did, to find a sky so full of stars it will blind you again. Only no sky can blind you now. Even with all that iridescent magic up there, your eye will no longer linger on the light, it will no longer trace constellations. You’ll care only about the darkness and you’ll watch it for hours, for days, maybe even for years, trying in vain to believe you’re some kind of indispensable, universe-appointed sentinel, as if just by looking you could actually keep it all at bay.”

    Johnny Truant, October 31, 1998 (House of Leaves introduction, page xxiii)

    I’m going to start out by saying this book is not for everyone and I don’t think it was meant to be. It’s meant for those who need it most. I was recommended it years and years ago by one of my very good friends, and I just never got around to finding it. It is a book that must be found. It is, without hesitation, my new favorite book of all time.

    Let me explain.

    House of Leaves is a story within a story within a story. It begins with an introduction by Johnny Truant, who finds this manuscript in the apartment of a dead man. He then becomes obsessed with the story of a family who moved into a house with bigger dimensions on the inside than were possible. But is it his obsession or is it the dead man’s? Zampano, the writer of the manuscript, has his own story, and through Johnny’s footnotes, we get a glimpse of what Zampano’s life was before he died. So, we have the story Zampano wrote–which by all appearances is an academic treatment of the mysterious film/photographer William Navidson–and we have Zampano’s story told to us in pieces by Johnny, and then we have Johnny’s story included in pages long footnotes at times.

    The beauty of this book is you become part of the story. You are shoved into your own obsession with the Navidson brothers as they try to explain this house that cannot be explained. It’s a psychological horror of which I’ve never seen before, and it takes you on a circular journey of your own past as you work through the mysteries with Navidson. Not only that, you are given insight into a very tragic character in Johnny Truant. I think I felt a platonic love for him by the end of the book because of his story, all of which I cannot verify if it was real or not. And by that I mean within the confines of the story. Was he telling me the truth or was it drug addled nonsense? Either way, I wept for Johnny at several moments.

    I would like to go further into the symbolism of the house, but I feel like that trudges into spoiler territory, so if you’d rather not have spoilers, please skip away from the page.

    The house is a pleasant enough place at first, set up in the middle of nowhere, Maryland. Inside the house, the family consists of Will, known as Navy, Karen, and their two children. The children each have their own rooms, and then Will and Karen have their room, and as all beginnings are, this is a hopeful place. A place of renewal.

    A hallway appears first, connecting the bedrooms upstairs, creating a void of light. And then the door arrives in the living room, the door on the outside wall. When the door is opened, another hallway is revealed, and throughout the course of the story, Navidson ends up exploring it with his brother and one of his friends.

    To me, the entire book from Zampano, to Johnny, and even the Navidson crew, it’s not about the house. It’s about the ways we try to keep ourselves hidden from those we love most. Those who would know when something is wrong just by looking at us. It’s about knowing oneself so painfully well that every interaction with a new person will go nowhere because we know we aren’t going to meet their expectations.

    It’s grief.

    It’s encompassing fear of the unknown.

    It’s love.

    I feel like I’m not giving the words justice. I feel like I’m not explaining just how deep of an impact this book had on me. Saying it’s my new favorite book of all time feels dramatic, like I’m making bold claims after only having read it once, and it’s a book that almost requires multiple reads. It’s formatted like someone went after it with a hammer and super glue, bending pages to fit into whatever origami felt right at the moment. There are footnotes within footnotes. Some of the text is backwards. Some pages only have two words, some have one. Entire spaces are condensed into a haphazard mess of black Xs across red strikethrough.

    It is chaos, just as the house is chaos.

    And yet, it’s home.

    *******I read the 2000 Random House full color remastered paperback edition*******

    Here I Am by Jonathan Safran Foer

    Who am I? I asked myself this question immediately following the finishing of this book and I feel like if Foer knew that, he’d either be pleased or he’d find me pretentious. But I didn’t ask it out of anything other than a gut reaction to the book ending. Foer is able to wield emotion like a sword, but with enough subtlety that it hits you after you’ve gone by a few pages, and you have to pause and sit in the feeling for a moment before you can go forward. It took me a bit to get into this book. I honestly didn’t remember why I picked it up (it’s got a sticker from the bargain bin on the back, so that’s the most likely reason, and I know I like his writing style, so I solved my own mystery), and as I read about the marriage of Jacob and Julia, I questioned even more why I grabbed it. It was about a loveless marriage, but also a marriage full of too much love. The kind of love you think is stagnant, but is actually hiding behind hurt. Unspeakable only because to voice the hurt would make it known to those who haven’t hurt you, but those you love and you don’t want to show them your vulnerability.

    That kind of love is my favorite. And as I was slowly absorbed into the unfolding of this marriage, the explosion of a worldwide crisis of possible war, the outlook on Jewish people by the rest of the world, it all settles together in such a way you forget you’re reading about something heartbreaking. I think love is the entire theme of the whole book. There’s familial, romantic, platonic–it’s all in there. It’s the love that hurts, but the impermanence of pain is what draws me to it. It’s the understanding that while what I feel might be in the realm of anguish, it is not forever and I will be okay.

    I told a friend of mine about some of this, my reaction to the book. But it was 3 a.m. and I’d had to read a brain numbing romance novel to get my head to calm down (seriously, all those people need to do is talk to each other. The lack of common sense and communication in those books is astonishing, but then I realize it’s real life in a way we aren’t ready to admit to, which I also know sounds like the opposite of calming my brain down). A sense of yearning took over, and I was filled with wanting. To be enough, to be wanted. And the part that makes my heart break is I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to accept that I am already good enough. I am wanted. Just as I am. It causes an ache in my ribs. When I breathe. I inhale, almost like when I run, and the life that fills me also takes my breath away.

    The last time I wrote in my physical journal, I started a list of resolutions and I will expand on it offline. I know you might be wondering why this has anything to do with the book of this post, but I’ll get there. A person I follow on YouTube was talking in a recent video about how she calls resolutions her “intentions.” What does she intend for herself? The start of a new year, the reset, the fresh feeling. Some part of me that lingers in my self-hate is disgusted by the positivity of it.

    But I think about a sunrise. A sunrise after walking all night, being so stuck in my head, unable to fully see even though all I’ve been doing is looking.

    The sky lightens, letting the earth know what’s coming, but it’s that first burst of bright. That explosion of color that scars the sky and yet whispers hello.

    My hope lives there. In that moment, that crack of a new day. Flash in the pan, almost. It holds me, though. Gives me enough courage to approach life one day at a time until a year passes and I am no longer witnessing the sunrise, I am the sunrise.

    That’s who I am. I am hope, burning across the morning dimness with a gasp of colors. I am not ending. I am beginning and I am afraid. Afraid of understanding. Afraid of seeing. Not of failure, because I’m not failing.

    I am becoming.

    And that’s what this book did for me. I don’t know that I would say Foer is my favorite author, but he writes in a way that helps the world make sense as I see it. While I’m not a middle-aged Jewish man, or his wife, or their three sons, I have felt at times what they have, and seeing emotions I know so well, written in a way that feels like I’ve been flayed while saying thank you is something I don’t know I’d get from anyone else.

    I give this book an 8.5/10

    *******I read the 2016 Farrar, Straus and Giroux hardback edition*******

    January Book Dump

    Okay, listen, I know I’m behind. I know, I know. I’ve decided to do a quick “hey, here’s what I read, maybe you’ll like it, too” post because while I could go through and review each of these individually, some of them are too short for a full post, and the others I don’t want to ramble as I’m wont to do.

    Kicking things off here we have two books I received in a book subscription box probably almost five years ago and I started them but never finished them. So, I told myself not to let them sit unread on the shelf any longer, and wouldn’t you know it? In one, I only had ten pages left of it to read. Good job, past me. Fantastic work. Livin’ that dream.

    Blue Fox by Sjon

    This book follows a hunter on his trek to take down an elusive fox. The air is absolutely frigid, and the sun is harsh. It’s a stark, desolate sounding landscape, and yet there is life within. Sjon creates an atmosphere so well, one can almost see their breath while reading this book. It may sound trite and pretentious, but I thoroughly enjoyed the hubris of it all. A quick read if you don’t take five years to finish it.
    ******I read the 2008 Farrar, Straus, and Giroux paperback edition******

    Gutshot by Amelia Gray

    Another quick read, this is full of short stories, almost flash pieces (some are definitely not flash). When I first started reading it, I was enthralled by it. When I finished it, I was disturbed. This is not to say the writing is bad. It’s very unique and has a way of sticking into your brain after finishing one of the pieces. I felt like I’d witnessed something I probably shouldn’t have, and kept walking, left to ponder the choices I’ve made in my life to this point.
    *******I read the 2015 Farrar, Straus, and Giroux paperback edition*******

    So You Don’t Get Lost in the Neighborhood by Patrick Modiano

    I found this book on a trip I took with my stepmom and I picked it up because the title was so intriguing. It’s translated from French, and sometimes I worry that the translations can miss the nuances of the original language (I’m lookin’ at you, Witcher books). What can be lyrical and absolutely beautiful in one language can sometimes be stilted and jarring in another. That is not the case for this book. I’m going to say it’s very French, something I have only my preconceived notions about what is “French” to back me up on, but it’s charming, somewhat dark, and left me wondering if I solved the mystery or if I just needed to enjoy the ride. It follows the story of a man trying to figure out a distant memory from his childhood, brought about by a mysterious man who shows up with a folder and a name. The name brings him back to memories he’d tucked away for later, maybe never again. It sets him on a small trail of wonder and intrigue. It’s a lovely told story. The ending is kind of unclear, but I also finished it when I was really tired, so that is probably on me.
    *******I read the 2015 Houghton Mifflin Harcourt hardback edition*******

    On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous by Ocean Vuong

    This book left me for dead. I know that sounds really dramatic and kind of problematic, but the amount of weeping I did after reading this is almost embarrassing. It is beautiful. It isn’t for everyone, but if you are ready for a look at sexuality, race, immigration, prejudice, a whole slew of things, please read this. So many moments in this are heart wrenching, but there is always this underlying hope. A potential for it to end well. It is stunning.

    Written as a letter to the speaker’s mother, the young man tells the story of love and loss in such a way that leaves you breathless. It asks why, hypothesizes the answers, but then never fully commits to one, letting you work on it for yourself.
    *******I read the 2021 Penguin paperback edition*******

    Everyone Brave is Forgiven by Chris Cleave

    Everyone Brave is Forgiven grabbed me by the title and I pulled it from the shelf without much other thought. From the cover, it looked like it was going to be about London during WWII, and I was correct, but I still put it on my to-read shelf and forgot about it. I don’t know if I’ve ever said so on here, but WWII is one of my favorite times to read about, fiction or not, and so I tend to gravitate toward those stories. So many of them are similar, and yet all of them are different. I find sometimes they can be a bit predictable, and while at times this book was to me, I still enjoyed what I read.

    What I liked about this book the most was the main female character, Mary. She comes from an upper middle class family (fairly more well-to-do than a lot of people), and when mobilization begins, she decides to join up in the form of becoming a spy. Well, they don’t need her to be a spy, but they do send her to a school to be a teacher. She has no experience in this field, but she takes to it easily, loving the children instantly. She becomes a teacher right before the evacuations took place and children were sent to the countryside of England.

    Mary befriends a black boy, Zachary, and she promises to write to him while he’s away. Racism is a theme in this book, and while Mary sees nothing wrong with being friends with Zachary (he’s a small child), her family and friends tell her she’s being impertinent and socially incorrect. There’s quite a bit of language used that made me uncomfortable, and I know it’s “how they talked at the time,” but it still gave me some pause as I read it.

    Zachary is abused by the people in the country, and eventually he’s brought back to London where he goes back to school with Mary as his teacher. Mary has a unique talent for getting what she wants, and when her class is evacuated, the first thing she does is go to the man in charge of her district and asks for another class. He tells her there isn’t anyone to teach, but she points out those who were left behind for “difficult circumstances.” Sometimes Mary’s privilege shows when she can’t understand why certain things are done the way they are, but by the end of the story, she’s learned. Mary is vibrant, sarcastic, and determined. Her enthusiasm for doing what she believes to be right is never quite squashed by the bombs dropped on her city.

    There is heartbreak and absolute tragedy throughout the story. Depictions of violence and some graphic details of war wounds and building devastation. It all adds up to a well told story that by the end of we are possibly just as tired as the characters. The few moments where I was dragged out of the story because of my stretch for belief were few, and hardly significant past the moments they were.

    I give this book an 8/10.

    *******I read the 2016 Simon and Schuster hardback edition*******