First of all, how is it February? Second of all, how are we expected to read this many great books in the shortest month of the year??
03 February 2016
January was a great reading month for me in a lot of ways -- not least because of Andi's call to Read Our Own Damn Books. Of the twelve books I picked up last month, five were for assignments and six were books I already own. Not too damn shabby, if I do say so myself. Now if only I could get into the discipline of actually writing about those books of mine I've finally read... but perhaps that's a task for February.
02 February 2016
I'm a day late and a dollar short in getting this week's reading up, but c'est la vie. The reading stack is still promising for the week, though I'm not sure how much time I'll actually be able to set aside for some of these chunksters....
29 January 2016
This review originally ran in Shelf Awareness for Readers.
This quietly unsettling novel combines past and present, dreams and reality, into one strange hotel mystery.
26 January 2016
I've been in an odd reading slump lately; I'm reading a ton, and a lot of it is very good, but nothing is pulling me in and holding my attention the way I'd like it to. So I did what I always do in situations where I want to talk about books but don't know what books I want to talk about: I asked Twitter.
What's the last book you read that pulled you completely in and wouldn't let you look away?— Kerry McHugh (@kerryamchugh) January 25, 2016
25 January 2016
It was a wintry wonderland up in these parts this weekend: Friday and Saturday brought 30 inches of snow to my little town (approximately an entire winter's worth of snow in one 36-hour period), and a host of scattered thoughts on adulting and the magic of snow in its wake. I had hoped the forced hibernation would mean lots of reading time, but I found myself too easily distracted to focus on much. I did finish All is Not Forgotten, a psychological thriller that I'll be writing more about later on, and The Blind Assassin, which I absolutely loved after I hit about the halfway point (it was a bit of a slow build in the first half).
24 January 2016
I'm in a weird headspace today, so forgive the rambling nature of this post. It snowed here Friday and Saturday--30 inches of snow, to be precise--and I'm riding the little-kid highs of the thrill of snowstorms (everything's closed! We can walk in the middle of the streets! Oh my god, it's *still* snowing!) and the adult-like lows of the dangers of them (do we have batteries? Will they ever plow our street? Where will they put all of this snow? Is the furnace return blocked outside? Why don't I have any water pressure-omg-is-it-a-frozen-pipe-I-have-no-idea-how-to-own-a-house!?).
It's the conflicting nature of my feelings that is confusing to me today: I am sad to see the storm go, sad that we never lost power, that we weren't forced to build a blanket fort and read by flashlight (sad, perhaps, that we chose not to build a blanket fort and read by flashlight anyway). I am grateful for two days of guilt-free rest from running, but my legs are itching to be back out on the roads. I am thankful for a chance to hibernate this weekend, and also stir crazy, and also convinced my hibernation was too short.
I want a drink. I want a cookie. I want a nap. I want to read every book on my shelf.
I need to do the dishes, fold the laundry, and figure out how to get my car out of the garage over 3 feet of unplowed snow, and go back to work tomorrow.
I want to be a child. I have to be an adult. I need to learn how to live between those two things: how to appreciate the moments--like 30" of snow--that bring childlike wonder into our lives, and using those moments to bolster me through the harder parts of being responsible.
Is this what it feels like to grow up?