I just counted how many books I read this year and I’m embarrassed to say I read a lot less than I thought I did.

In my defense I was still in college during the spring and so when I had time to read I read for school. And also in my defense for being a writing major: the books aren’t always fun to read.

Okay they are, but having to read The Prelude by William Wordsworth, essays by Samuel Coleridge, and Bleak House all at the same time was a bit tough.

Over the summer my professor had the grand Idea to have a reading challenge. From the beginning of May to the end of August we would try to read 50 books.

Wanna guess how far I got? 24. I’ll even admit a lot of them were slim.

I’m not a normal book lover. I have phases. If I read a lot in a short amount of time, I’m bound to not read for a little while.

So It’s probably a bad idea to set a goal for next year, but I think I still will because having that challenge in the summer not only pushed me to read more, it pushed me to read books I never thought I’d pick up. Like, all those random books I’d buy from half-price knowing full well I’d never read them.

What should my goal be? What’s responsible, but slightly impossible? A number small enough that I could reach, but big enough to scare me into reading more.


Anything said about New Years is cliche.

I’ll write more next year.
I’ll read more next year.

I probably won’t blog again until next year.

Have a happy new year.

Here are some of the books I didn’t think I’d read this year, but so very happy I did:

What We Talk About When We Talk About Love

by Raymond Carver

In one of Bret Lott’s essays he mentions how this book influenced him, so I decided to pick it up. It was different than what I was use to, but by the time I’d read the last short story I had fallen in love with Carver’s style.


by Bram Stoker
I know, I know. A classic. I didn’t think I’d enjoy it as much as I did, so I was a nice surprise.

The Importance of Being Earnest and Other Plays

by Oscar Wilde
Ah. Such wit. I wish I was this funny.

Electric Light: Poems

by Seamus Heaney

Did I love these poems? Yes. Did I understand these poems? Well…I’m still working on that part.

Tarzan of the Apes (Tarzan, #1)

by Edgar Rice Burroughs

To be honest, I never wanted to read this until I found myself at the bookstore waiting on a friend and this book just so happened to be right in front of me. I started skimming…and then I bought the book. I don’t plan on reading the others, but despite how much one has to suspend their belief to read this, I thought it was fascinating.

A Midsummer Night’s Dream

by William Shakespeare
I’m not crazy over Shakespeare, but I still make myself read his stuff. I did enjoy this one.

Amo, Amas, Amat… And All That

by Harry Mount

I have a facination with Latin. Kinda wish I would make myself learn it.


by Robert Graysmith
I’m a sucker for a good mystery. Especially if it’s true crime. It’s a bit repetitious I’ll admit, but still was really thorough. (And then suddenly I was on Zodiac forums, but that’s another story.)