For the longest time, I only shared thoughts about books I’d read after I’d read them. I thought it best to reserve all my thoughts for when the book was finished so I could have a complete, comprehensive view as a framework. This habit continued into my early bookstagram days, where I hesitated to share or recommend a book before finishing it, because how could I endorse it (or not) if I hadn’t read the whole thing?
Recently, I’ve been thinking a lot about processes, and the quiet, mundane moments of in-betweenness that actually make up most of our days. When I started thinking about this in relation to my reading life, I realized how much it was holding me back, how much of my actual reading experience—arguably some of the most defining and influential aspects—I had subconsciously deemed somehow unworthy of unpacking in the online book world.
Reading is, by nature, a solitary practice. Even in book clubs, readathons, and other instances of bookish community, the actual reading part is carried out alone. But we forget sometimes that reading is also deeply emotional, visceral, transportive; it is a non-linear journey through which we experience a range of subjective encounters. Yet we withhold these parts of our reading lives as they are happening in order to assess, at the end of the book, whether or not they fit into or support the narrative of our neatly packaged (and highly curated) final review. So often we share a thought in passing but are quick to dismiss them (“…but I haven’t finished the book yet,” or “I’ll let you know once I’m finished”). Does the ending of a book ultimately change how we feel about it? Sure, it can. But there’s also something inherently valuable in reflecting on the reading experience itself—and, indeed, in embracing its fluidity—regardless of how much we think the ending might change our perception.
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I want to make the case here for this in-between discourse—for embracing it, being mindful of it, writing about it, and sharing it with other readers. As a graduate student, my entire professional career has focused on conducting research, gathering evidence, and the kind of detail-oriented reading experience that dissects each paragraph, sentence, and word with a fine-toothed comb. Doing this—hundreds of times over with myriad monographs, essays, journal articles, and various other texts—trained me to read—and write—for precision and final outcomes.
This prompted me to think about the ways in which these practices overlap and intersect with my role as a fiction reader, book reviewer, and bookish creative, which led to an important realization: there’s a difference between reading to review, and reading to read. This difference is, I think, well reflected on social media in our complicated relationship with both DNFing and books we don’t love. We often feel compelled to finish books we’re not enjoying so we can feel adequately equipped to review them, which then ties into the idea that any kind of “negative” reading experience is lesser than a resoundingly positive one. And to be clear: I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with reading, and wanting to finish, a book before formulating your thoughts and putting together a review. This is completely valid! What I am saying is I think there is much to be learned about ourselves as readers by being more attentive and intentional in the in-between moments of our reading lives.
In the spirit of sharing a glimpse into what I’m talking about, here’s a peek into my thoughts on my current reading life:
CURRENTLY READING…
Long Island by Colm Tóibín — Full disclosure: I hadn’t read Brooklyn before picking up Long Island, but the film adaptation starring Saoirse Ronan is one of my all-time favourites. Eilis Lacey is one of my favourite literary characters so it's been such a treat getting another glimpse into her life twenty years later. The intimacy and authenticity with which Tóibín draws family life and relationship dynamics across cultural and generational lines are what stand out in his novels. At 304 pages, this is not a long book by any means, but it feels like one in the best possible way.
The God of the Woods by Liz Moore [thank you so much to Riverhead Books for sending me an advanced copy] — There has been so much buzz about this book! It’s been described as *the* book of the summer I admittedly didn’t know much about it until I saw many of my reader friends post about it online, but I love a literary psychological mystery/thriller so when I read more about it, it sounded right up my alley. I was eager to start reading it as soon as possible so I could chime in on the pre-release discussion, but this is the case of a book that took a while for me to get into; for the first third or so of the book, I kept asking myself what all the fuss was about—what was I missing? But then, somewhere just before the halfway mark, it clicked. I get it now and am eager to see how the rest of this eery, tense, and atmospheric story plays out.
JUST FINISHED…
Same As It Ever Was by Claire Lombardo [thank you so much to Doubleday for sending me an advanced copy] — wow, where to begin with this one? After loving Lombardo’s debut novel, The Most Fun We Ever Had, this was easily one of my most anticipated books of 2024. If I had to describe my experience with this book in one word, it would be this: complicated. The experience of reading this book over ~2 months is a prime example of why not DNFing a book you’re not immediately in love with is a worthwhile, productive experience. This book did not surpass Most Fun for me in terms of my own (highly subjective) expectations, but the process of asking myself why helped me tune in to parts of my readerly identity I hadn’t explored in a while. Oh, and the last chapter is one of the most hauntingly beautiful, evocative, transcendent pieces of writing I’ve ever come across. Prepare to ugly-cry.
Effie Olsen’s Summer Special by Rochelle Bilow — After so much trial and error, I’m finally finding my romance groove and it’s brought such a sparkle to my reading life. I’ve been reading new-to-me authors, exploring tropes I enjoy, and generally finding my romcom sweet spot of well-drawn settings, complex characters, and warm, whip-smart writing. Effie Olsen, on
’s recommendation, hit all the right notes and provided me with a much needed literary escape to the deliciously cozy coast of Maine.
What does a snapshot of your reading life look like right now? I’d love for you to share in the comments!
Until next time,
I'm currently reading "Death by a Thousand Cuts" by Shashi Bhat and "Last Woman" by Carleigh Baker. I read your post several days ago and have been chewing on it ever since. To me, a book does not really exist until it is read. And each time it is read, it becomes a new book. Words are abstractions that only become concrete when imagined into being. There is an exchange between the writer and each reader. They form a relationship with each other. Some of the relationships last; others don't really get started. But there is a bid for intimacy, for the sharing of thoughts and feelings... and this happens in stages. So recognizing these stages and pausing to enjoy them can increase the joy and meaning of discovering a book. Over the years how I read has changed radically. These days I read slowly and I often reread books I feel particularly drawn to. This has increased my joy and my sorrow. It is double-edged because I am sad about the books I do not get to read. Yet, deepening my connection to the ones I do has made life itself more meaningful.
I love this! I was just mulling over a half-written piece about prize-winning books I DNF'd. There is something to be said for initial reactions and all of the complicated feelings of our reading lives - if we wanted perfect polished reviews only we could all just go read whatever nice publications push those out. I love seeing the messy-ness of the in-between