Reading Year in Review & 2022 Goals

I don’t think I need to bother reflecting on the kind of year 2021 turned out to be overall. It happened; let’s move on, shall we?

In bookish terms, I felt like much of my year was defined by a lingering reading slump, meaning it came as a very pleasant surprise when I surpassed my goal for the year (by 1), reading 101 books in total. That’s the lowest figure since I started tracking my reading, but objectively, I’m aware it’s still a lot of books, and considering the backdrop we’ve all been living against, I can make my peace with it! I talked a little about my 10 favourites here.

My average rating was 3.6 stars. That’s .1 up on last year’s average, and it means I’m still enjoying the majority of the books I pick up, so I’ll take that as a win!

Though I always pick up books based purely on what appeals to me at the time, as the year comes to a close, I like to look back and break them down based on a few key areas. It’s clear to see I’m still drawn to the works of women far more than I am men, and I’m also pleased to see that my intake of non-binary authors has gone up a little – though this could certainly still be higher.

In terms of authorship, I’m pleased to see it’s not a terrible balance, but I could always stand to read more from authors of colour. I’d be much happier if it could move closer towards a 50/50 split, at least.

As per the trend of the last few years, more than half of my reading is given over to novels/novellas, and the proportion of my reading dedicated to poetry has edged up slightly again, which I’m perfectly happy with!

It also seems that around a quarter of my reading is made up of works in translation, which is pretty consistent with last year. I’d like to maintain or even boost that proportion moving forward, if possible.

I’m still going to set myself some goals for the year ahead, but in the spirit of not wanting to pile the pressure on when we’re still going through the wringer, I’m going to keep them simple:

• Read 90 books: This is lower than I usually set my target, but I want to respect the fact my reading slowed down for much of last year. While it’s good to motivate myself with an ambitious end goal, reading is something I love, and so I never want it to feel like a daunting chore. Life is rough at the moment; it’s okay to ease the pace a little when we need to.
• Commit to WITmonth: I love joining in with Women in Translation Month, which takes place every August. For the last few years, I’ve committed to reading exclusively women in translation during that month, and I’d like to do so again.
• Re-read Saga: I read and loved the first 7 volumes of Saga as they came out, but I fell out of the loop and haven’t picked any up for ages. I believe the series is coming to the end of a hiatus soon, so I’d like to refresh my mind and get caught up.

As always, I’ll finish this little retrospective by bringing together every title I read throughout the last 12 months (followed, this time, by all the embroidery projects I completed). If anything catches your eye, feel free to drop me a comment. Thanks for stopping by – Happy reading, and all the best for 2022!

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January

February

March

April

May

June

July

August

September

October

November

December

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Top Reads of 2021

It’s that time again! It goes without saying that 2021 has been another strange year, and sadly for me, much of it was defined by a lingering reading slump. It boggles my mind therefore that I somehow managed to get through 101 books, with my favourites listed below.

As always, I chose from the books I read for the first time throughout the past 12 months, and not strictly books that were published within that time. I always take into account how much I enjoyed the book at the time, and how well it has stayed with me since. But without further ado, let’s talk about some books!

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10. Sealed by Naomi Booth

At once both highly allegorical and frighteningly plausible, this claustrophobic novel follows the perspective of a pregnant woman during the spread of a strange skin-sealing disease, born of climate change and an increasingly toxic atmosphere. Using body horror to explore the fear and potential terror of pregnancy/birth, the book also offers shrewd commentary on the narrative of female “hysteria” and the fight for body autonomy. This wasn’t the knock-out favourite I hoped it would be at the time, but certain moments continue to haunt me, strengthening my appreciation of its smart, understated power.

9. The Butterfly Lampshade by Aimee Bender

A quiet exploration of family, trauma, and mental health, The Butterfly Lampshade follows Francie as she reflects on a particularly upsetting and unusual string of events that took place in her childhood. Though it flirts with an otherworldly tone and elements of magical realism, it offers very real, poignant commentary on a complex mother-daughter dynamic, looking at just how closely fear, guilt, and love can intertwine when it comes to family. Deliberately fragmented and skilfully underplayed, Bender’s unique approach makes the book all the more impactful.

8. Klara and the Sun by Kazuo Ishiguro

His first release since winning the Nobel Prize for Literature, Ishiguro’s latest novel blends the appeal of commercial fiction (thanks to an enticing setup and immense readability) with the author’s signature exploration of the human condition. Concerned primarily with the moral complexities of artificial intelligence, the book explores well-worn themes of speculative sci-fi, but Ishiguro’s subtle emotional delivery gets to the heart of the best and worst traits of humanity. His brilliantly well-handled point-of-view and worldbuilding ensure it’s a fresh, worthwhile offering.

7. Hotel Iris by Yoko Ogawa, translated by Stephen Snyder

Though not always easy to stomach, Ogawa’s signature hypnotic atmosphere makes it almost impossible to look away from this fascinating, offbeat little novel. The story Follows a 17-year-old who willingly subjects herself to a series of physical, emotional, and sexual humiliations at the hands of a much older man. Exploring misplaced grief and toxic relationships as a means of self-punishment, the book highlights the often fine lines between pleasure and pain, passion and torture, excitement and fear. In pin-sharp prose, Ogawa has written a novel that is as shocking as it is tender.

6. Small Things Like These by Claire Keegan

Set in the run up to Christmas in 1980s Ireland, this understated yet powerful little novel looks at the ideas of compassion and secrets; those we cannot see and those we choose not to. Capturing a very specific time and place within Irish history, Keegan embraces the power of implication, commenting on heavy topics without resorting to sensationalism. Sad yet full of hope, it captures the feelings of charm, nostalgia, melancholy, and longing that so often go hand-in-hand during the festive period. It’s a sensitive ode to the resilience of the working classes, and the quiet yet vital heroism of those who choose not to turn a blind eye when faced with injustice.

5. Endless Night by Agatha Christie

Though one of Christie’s lesser-known works, this quickly became one of my favourites. Hugely compelling, it has many of the hallmarks you’d expect from a classic Christie novel, including a central element of mystery, well-drawn characters, fantastic dialogue, and an intricate tapestry of clues that leads to a startling truth. What marks this out among her work, however, is how heavily she leans into the conventions of gothic literature – complete with a grand, imposing house, and whispers of the supernatural. Brooding and expertly paced, I loved its seamless blend of crime fiction and psychological horror – bolstered by excellent commentary on the freedoms and trappings of money.

4. Tonight We Rule the World by Zack Smedley

This is a powerful look at navigating trauma on your own terms. We follow Owen, who is sexually assaulted during a visit to a prospective university. When the crime is anonymously reported to his school, he is forced to deal with the fallout. The novel delves into issues as wide-ranging as loyalty, abuse, gender, PTSD, gaslighting, sexuality, toxic masculinity, and warped plays for power. It’s a tangled web, but the narrative never feels bloated, thanks to how well-realised Smedley’s protagonist is.

3. The Butcher’s Blessing by Ruth Gilligan

Set amidst the devastating outbreak of “Mad Cow Disease” in the 1990s, this is an achingly real portrayal of rural life in Ireland, and an ode to the country’s fraught history with its own folklore. Opening with the image of a body suspended from a hook, the narrative jumps back to explore the events that would lead to this man’s grotesque end. Instantly compelling, the stakes are consistently raised as we attempt to identify both the victim and the perpetrator from a cast of complex, morally ambiguous characters. Though ostensibly a literary thriller, the focus is placed firmly on its characters, all of whom are wrestling with their own inner demons. This allows for nuanced commentary on the fight for autonomy in a culture ruled by tradition, and the bravery required to defy society’s expectations in search of happiness.

2. Love and Fury by Samantha Silva

This stunning novel serves as a love letter to the genius of pioneering feminist and writer, Mary Wollstonecraft, while also painting a picture of the very real, sensitive woman behind the legend. Silva does an excellent job of celebrating her subject’s sharp intellect and early push for equality, exploring issues of gender, class, and sexuality with nuance and grace. That said, the book never feels like an academic text or a dot-to-dot biography. Wollstonecraft was a pioneer in many respects, but she was also a human being, susceptible to the same flaws and heartache as the rest of us. I think Silva handled the balance of reverence and honesty in portraying her heroine with aplomb. Whether familiar with Wollstonecraft yet or not, this is a gorgeous, evocative read; a character study that is equal turns inspiring, captivating, and moving.

1. Once There Were Wolves by Charlotte McConaghy

McConaghy blends powerful eco-fiction with the intrigue of a thriller in this arresting look at human nature. Our heroine is Inti Flynn, an environmental biologist leading a controversial rewinding project that aims to bring wolves back to rural Scotland. The surrounding community are immediately hostile; their resistance reaching a fever pitch when the mutilated body of a man is discovered. Inti is determined to absolve the wolves of blame — and thus spare them from a brutal culling — but to do so means proving there’s a killer in their midst. At once a page-turner and a deep dive into the psyche of its characters, McConaghy’s prose paints vivid pictures of Scotland’s rugged beauty. Almost every character is shown to be capable of both great compassion and immense cruelty, prompting us to consider which of these (if not both) is the true nature of man. And yet, nothing is ever presented as straightforward; McConaghy always mining the moral complexities of the situation. Even Inti is regularly forced to question the validity of her project, and where the line falls between vital conservation and unethical interference with nature. Burning with passion, Once There Were Wolves is an ode to the land as it once was, and how it could be.

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Reading Year in Review & 2021 Goals

In general, the less said about the horror show that was 2020, the better, right? Thankfully, there were some great books along the way to help keep me sane. So, as we head into the new year, let’s take stock of how I got on throughout the past 12 months and set some goals for 2021.

Firstly, a look at whether I achieved last year’s goals:

• I wanted to read 100 books. Having read 121, this one gets a tick.
• I wanted to read more poetry. I read 14 poetry books in 2020, up from just 4 in 2019, so that’s a big step in the right direction.
• I wanted to do more buddy reads. I didn’t do many to be fair, so this is a fail. But with everyone (including myself) all over the place mentally and schedule-wise in 2020, I’m not going to beat myself up about it. And in fairness, my next goal kind of tied into this one…
• I wanted to read the whole Women’s Prize for Fiction longlist. Though we read them in our own time, so they weren’t technically buddy reads, I did love the experience of reading and discussing the list with a bunch of my favourite bookish people again. I read and reviewed all 16 before the shortlist announcement, so this one gets a big tick.
• I also wanted to keep reading translated lit. I definitely did this, both sporadically throughout the year and by committing fully to Women in Translation Month in August for the second year running.

In general, I certainly wouldn’t describe 2020 as one of my strongest reading years, but there were still lots of great books peppered throughout (the best of which I talked about here in my top reads of the year post). Across the 121 books I read, I gave an average rating of 3.5 stars, the same as in 2019. This seems pretty reflective of a somewhat middling reading year, but it definitely implies there were more good reads than bad ones!

As always, I never do or don’t read a book based on the author’s gender identity, but once the year reaches its end, I like to look back and see which voices I’m being drawn to. As expected, I’m definitely still reaching for female writers far more than I am male ones, and I’m more than okay with that. I’m also pleased to see my intake of non-binary voices increased slightly on the previous year (though it could certainly be higher, and recommendations would be very welcome!).

In terms of diversity of authorship within my reading, the ratio of white authors (78) to authors of colour (43) wasn’t too bad, but it could always be better. Publishing bias isn’t exactly a help on this front, but the closer I can get to a 50/50 split, the happier I’d be.

I then decided to break my reading down based on form. Amusingly, I read exactly the same number of both novels and nonfiction books in 2020 as I did in 2019. At the slight expense of short fiction and graphic novels/memoirs (both of which took a dip in numbers), I did manage to boost my poetry reading significantly, as previously mentioned, which I’m pleased about.

Given that one of my goals for the year was to keep reading translated literature, I wanted to see exactly what the numbers equated to. Though books written in English certainly make up the bulk of my reading, I was reasonably happy with the balance. Ideally, I’d love for translated works to make up at least a quarter of my reading, which seems attainable based on these stats.

As for 2021, in light of how up in the air everything still feels, I’m keeping my goals very simple:

• Read 100 books. I like that this is a round number, and that it feels achievable whilst still making a sizable dent in my ever-growing TBR.
• Read more plays. I don’t reach for plays that often, but I’ve had several end up on my reads of the year lists before. I’m also really missing the experience of live theatre, so reading play scripts may help to ease that particular ache.
• Finish Carrie Fisher’s backlist. This is very specific, I grant you. I love Fisher’s writing, both fiction and nonfiction. I’ve read 5 out of her 7 published works so far, and I’ve been putting off the last 2 because the thought of not having more of her books to look forward to makes me sad. But equally, as a big fan, I want to be able to say I’ve completed her works.
• Pace myself. My reading definitely slowed down throughout the last couple of months in 2020. As a committed reader, this stressed me out at first, but I think we’ve all learned to try and be a little kinder to ourselves recently. I tell everyone else it’s absolutely fine to take breaks from reading when you feel burnt out or in a slump, so I want to take my own advice if/when it happens to me again. It’s also true that a lot of the time I would normally have spent reading in those latter months was spent indulging my newfound love of embroidery, so it’s not like I wasn’t doing something enjoyable and relaxing with my time anyway!

The pieces I embroidered in November

A couple of festive pieces I embroidered in December

I’ll end this post as I always end my reading year in review; by bringing together every book I read throughout the past 12 months. If any covers or titles catch your eye, feel free to ask about them and we can chat. In the meantime, happy reading, and all the best for 2021! Things can only get better, right?

The books I read in January

The books I read in February

The books I read in March

The books I read in April

The books I read in May

The books I read in June

The books I read in July

The books I read in August

The books I read in September

The books I read in October

The books I read in November

The books I read in December

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Reading Year in Review & 2020 Goals

As we start to turn our attention to the year ahead, there’s one last opportunity to look back on 2019. I’m going to take stock of how I got on with my reading goals, reflect on my reading year in general, and set some new goals for 2020 accordingly.

• My first goal for 2019 was to read 100 books. Having read 124, this one gets a tick.
• My second goal was to read more non-fiction. I read 9 non-fiction books in 2018, and upped this to 10 in 2019 (12 if you count a couple of graphic memoirs). It’s a tentative success, but a step in the right direction nonetheless.
• My third goal was to read more plays. I did not read a single one. Epic fail.
• My fourth goal was to read more Daphne du Maurier. I read one of her novels in 2019, so we’ll call this one a very soft victory.
• My final goal was to keep mood reading. This one is hard to quantify. I’d say I managed it fairly well, though committing to a book prize longlist and a month’s worth of translated lit did throw a bit of a spanner in the works in terms of avoiding TBRs and going with the flow.

That brings me on to a couple of supplementary goals I added as the year went on. Alongside an excellent group of blogging friends, I decided to read the entire longlist for the Women’s Prize for Fiction. It was something that had been on my bookish bucket list for a while, and though we arguably didn’t pick the best year to do it, I’m really glad to say I managed to read and review the entire selection before the shortlist/winner was announced.

August is women in translation month. At the very last minute, I decided to read only books that would fall into that category for the whole of the month. Again, I’m glad I did this, and it pushed me to pick up some excellent reads I may otherwise not have prioritised.

Taking a more general look at my reading year, I would describe it as fairly… meh? It certainly wasn’t a bad year for books; I read 124 of them, gave an average rating of 3.5 stars, and certainly uncovered some gems – the best of which I talked about here. I suppose the reason I feel somewhat underwhelmed is that, despite reading lots of great books throughout the year, I didn’t find any new all-time favourites. I know we can’t expect to do so every year, but still, we can’t help but hope.

I never do or don’t read a book based on the author’s gender, but I decided to analyse my reading based on authorship purely out of interest. It showed that I’ve been reading far more books by women than men (which I’m more than happy with), but it also highlighted an obvious lack of books by non-binary authors on my shelves (recommendations to help with this are very welcome!).

I then decided to break down my 2019 reading based on form. I wasn’t at all surprised to see that novels are my book of choice, but I am sad to see that poetry largely fell by the wayside. That’s something I’d like to address moving forward.

As for 2020 goals, I’m going to keep it pretty simple:

• Read 100 books. It’s a solid number that will help me make a dent in my TBR without feeling too daunting.
• Read more poetry. I touched on this already, but I’d definitely like to start reaching for poetry more often again.
• Do more buddy reads. I read and chatted about a few past Women’s Prize winners with the same group of aforementioned friends in 2019, and I’m hoping we’ll pick up a few more this year.
• Keep reading translated lit. English language literature dominates the market, and it’s sad to think about how many amazing books fly under the radar as a result. I read 17 translated books in 2019 (2 of which made my top 10 of the year), and I’d love if I could match or better that number in 2020.
• Pick up my ‘Spotlight’ and ‘Let’s Recommend’ series. This is about blogging more than reading, but a bookish goal nonetheless. I’ve been reviewing everything I read on Goodreads for ages, but 2019 was the first time I reviewed everything in full on this blog, rather than just in monthly wrap ups. I’m so glad I made that switch, but it did mean a few of my previous blog series fell by the wayside a little. In particular, I’d like to do a few more spotlights and themed recommendation posts in 2020.

That’s it for specifics at the moment. I may commit to reading the Women’s Prize longlist again, and I may commit to reading only women in translation in August again. But in the spirit of embracing mood reading, I’ll see how I feel about both of those tentative goals nearer the time.

I’ll end this post as I always end my reading year in review; by bringing together every book I read throughout the past 12 months. If any covers/titles catch your eye, feel free to ask about them. In the meantime, happy reading, and all the best for 2020!

The books I read in January

The books I read in February

The books I read in March

The books I read in April

The books I read in May

The books I read in June

The books I read in July

The books I read in August

The books I read in September

The books I read in October

The books I read in November

The books I read in December

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There we have it! Did you have a good reading year in 2019? What are your goals for 2020?

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Most Disappointing Reads of 2019

I wasn’t originally planning to do one of these posts, but I’ve seen a few floating around and in the end I couldn’t resist. As with most other people who’ve compiled such a list, I want to stress that these aren’t necessarily the worst books I read this year (some of them were solid 3-star reads, in fact). Rather, they are books I expected to adore, but which ultimately left me feeling lukewarm, hence my presiding feelings of disappointment. So, in no particular order…

1. Furiously Happy by Jenny Lawson

This non-fiction book aims to normalise the struggles of mental health in a warm and candid way. These are admirable intentions, no doubt, but the execution was bad. Really bad. The presence of painfully forced humour, erratic structuring, cultural insensitivity, and potentially problematic relationship dynamics made me cringe throughout. I know Lawson’s work has been popular with a lot of people, but her style is definitely not for me.

2. The Old Man and the Sea by Ernest Hemingway

The only time the old man ever stops talking about fishing is to talk about baseball, or to club a dolphin over the head. Not my jam. In all seriousness, I found this so dull, repetitive and lifeless that I didn’t even care enough to try and find any deeper allegorical meaning. At least I can now say I’ve tried Hemingway for myself, and know for sure that he and I aren’t going to be friends.

3. The Sealwoman’s Gift by Sally Magnusson

This is one that feels particularly harsh to include here, because it’s a pretty good book overall and there are certainly things about it that I liked. BUT, on paper it sounds like my ideal read (historical fiction set partly in Iceland, with themes of female agency and the power of storytelling). Plus, it got glowing reviews from readers and critics alike. My high expectations simply couldn’t be met, with the uneven pacing stopping me from ever feeling fully invested.

4. The Word for World is Forest by Ursula K. Le Guin

Science fiction from a pioneer of the genre that explores themes of colonisation, war, environmental destruction, othering, and cultural erasure sounded so promising. Sadly, this ended up being a huge slog, especially for such a slim novel. The glut of invented terminology was so exaggerated – the effort to constantly contextualise every piece of information we were given so great – that I felt no investment whatsoever in the plot or characters. What initially held great promise became dry and frustrating; a particular shame given how much I hoped to love this author’s work.

5. The Iliac Crest by Cristina Rivera Garza

I loved this book’s singular concept, and was excited by its claims of a gothic, mysterious tone, but if a novel requires notes from both the author and the translator for the reader to stand a chance of discerning any kind of narrative or thematic sense, I’d argue that the book hasn’t worked. Any interesting ideas about gender roles and suchlike were danced around so ambiguously that I was left feeling cold and perplexed; any fleeting moments of brilliance swallowed up by alienating tangents and nonsensical goings on.

6. Things We Say in the Dark by Kirsty Logan

This is another one I feel particularly sad to mention here, because I fully expected it to be making an appearance on my list of favourites. Logan is a writer I already love, and a collection of feminist horror stories is so in my wheelhouse it felt like this book had been tailormade for me to love it. Though I thoroughly enjoyed its overall tone, and many of the haunting images it presented, I found the collection bloated; too many of the 20 stories blending into one, and too many of them dipping into the weird-for-the-sake-of-being-weird territory that I’m not a big fan of. It’s a shame, as when this book is good, it’s very, very good; it just wasn’t the new all-time favourite I so desperately wanted it to be.

7. Lust, Caution by Eileen Chang

Chang is another author I had wanted to try for years. This collection of short stories was described as ‘gripping’ and ‘intensely atmospheric’, which put me in completely the wrong frame of mind for what I actually got, which was perhaps the quietest, most understated slice-of-life stories I’ve ever read. I enjoyed the post-war setting, and the themes Chang touched on (like the role of women within Chinese society, class divides, national identity, and the shift from a traditional patriarchal society towards a more liberal, Westernised way of living), but the use of a different translator for every story led to a very uneven narrative voice that I found hugely jarring. I haven’t given up on Chang yet, but it seems I picked an unfortunate place to start with her work given how much I hoped to gel with her.

8. The Greatcoat by Helen Dunmore

I read and loved A Spell of Winter by the same author this year, and rushed out to pick up another of her novels. I was excited to find that she’d written a ghost story, described as a ‘haunting flesh-creeper’. In reality, this was a paranormal romance that lacked any of the evocative prose and arresting atmosphere that made A Spell of Winter so special. I will definitely give this author another try, but if these first two reads are anything to go by, it seems her stuff is going to be very hit or miss.

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There we have it! What were some of your most disappointing reads of 2019?

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My Life in Books | 2019

A few of my blogging friends took part in this bookish tag/meme recently (Laura, Naty & Rachel), and I couldn’t resist giving it a go!

The rules are simple: Using only books you have read this year, answer these questions. Try not to repeat a book title.

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In high school I was Breaking and Mending (wow, this got deep rather quickly, lol)

People might be surprised by Things We Say in the Dark

I will never be The True Deceiver

My fantasy job is The Pumpkin Eater

At the end of a long day I need The Company of Swans

I hate Turbulence

I Wish I had The House on the Strand

My family reunions are The Best We Could Do

At a party you’d find me with Literary Witches

I’ve never been to Orkney

A happy day includes Enduring love

Motto I live by: You Should Have Left

On my bucket list is Transformation

In my next life, I want to have Dinosaurs on Other Planets

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Books mentioned

If you’d like to give this a shot, consider yourself tagged!

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