Having failed my self-imposed challenge to read 50 books in 2014, I paced myself more steadily this year – and I did it! 50 books in a year.
I’ve figured out a couple of things on the way. Firstly, working my way through a book a week was not going to happen by accident; I really had to commit to the task and prioritise reading over other things occasionally. To anyone I have ignored because my nose has been stuck in a book, I apologise!
The other discovery I made is that whilst the Kindle App on my IPad hosts an impressive collection of books (review copies are usually downloads), digital reading doesn’t really do it for me. Maybe its because my IPad doesn’t have that distinctive new-paper-and-ink smell, but I just don’t absorb books in the same way on a device as from real pages in a real book. No doubt someone eminent and learned has researched this phenomenon and can find as many readers whose experience is the exact opposite of mine, but my preference is still for a paperback than a gadget.
There have been some high highs and some low lows during my literary year and I have had a bit of fun organising my 2015 books into a list. I rather like lists and this one is self-explanatory; everything I’ve read, from what I liked best to what I liked least!
In my top 3 books were Bella Pollen’s ‘The Summer of the Bear‘ and ‘Song of the Sea Maid‘ by Rebecca Mascull. Both gave me a great deal of reading pleasure and I wholeheartedly recommend them. The latter is due out in paperback in 2016 and I’m planning to read Mascull’s first novel ‘The Visitors‘ next year. Emma Kennedy’s ‘The Tent, the Bucket and Me‘ is probably the funniest book I have ever read in my whole life (although Bill Bryson and Stephen Fry have given me plenty of laugh out loud moments) and I defy anyone not to be cheered by it.
I hope my reviews have given my followers some ideas about what to read, and maybe what to avoid.
And what about 2016? Well my Christmas stocking included Guy Grieve’s ‘The Call of the Wild‘, Paul Heiney’s ‘One Wild Song‘ and ‘The Truth About the Harry Quebert Affair‘ by Joel Dicker, so my TBR pile is already stacking up. I’m also looking forward to reading Clare Fuller’s ‘Our Endless Numbered Days‘ and ‘A Year of Marvellous Ways‘ by Sarah Winman. Reading is as essential to my wellbeing as oxygen so I’ll be reading on. I will continue with the blog, but am undecided about whether to repeat the 50/50 challenge – watch this space!
A chance conversation over a lunch table lead me to read this book sooner than I may have. I was bragging about having ghost-written 
When I was a child, the world of adults was a mystery to me. Like a foreign country, I had no passport to travel there and insights into what grown-ups did when we kids weren’t around, were rare and usually unintentional. Adult conversations ended when children entered the room and most of our knowledge came from what the big folk chose to tell us; we were protected. Information about the grown-up stuff was on a ‘need to know’ basis. Mostly, we didn’t need to know. In ‘Road to Perdition‘, young Michael Sullivan’s childhood is destroyed in the instant he crosses the invisible boundary into adult activity, witnessing first-hand what his father does for a living.
As it’s Christmas, I have been doing a fair bit of baking, putting together dishes to please family and friends. With a clear recipe to follow and the correct ingredients, carefully measured, most things seem to have turned out well. Like a rich cake, ‘The Girl on the Ferryboat‘, a novel published both in English and Gaelic, had all the ingredients to be a big hit with me – a love story, set in Scotland, with a heavy dose of sea travel to bind it all together. But the resultant novel didn’t really grab me – despite its parts, the literary cake fell flat.
I am a little late to the chimaera ball; probably about 35 years too late, as Laini Taylor’s trilogy is marketed as young adult fiction and it is clearly some years since I was a teenager! However, despite my advanced age, once I got into the rhythm of this tale, I was swept along by the sheer brilliance of the author’s imagination.
When the going gets tough, I dream of escape, running away. My bolthole of choice would be an isolated cottage within a stone’s throw of the sea. I would be able to wander on the beach, read books and take photos, completely undisturbed by anyone. So when a 5-year old boy is killed in a heartless hit-and-run accident and Jenna takes flight to Wales, it was this desertion which drew me in to Clare Mackintosh’s story. Away from prying eyes, Jenna stays hidden but gradually begins to shape a new life for herself.
It has never really struck me before how much we take light for granted. I mean, if I can’t see what I am doing, a quick flick of a light switch renders everything visible. My productivity is not restricted to daylight hours and with street lights and car headlights, it is easy to move around at night. Kate Fosse’s novel is not infused with much light at all. It is dark – both actually and figuratively.
I can’t believe there are many adults-in-the-making who sail through their teenage years without mishap. After all, there are plenty of hurdles to negotiate; relationships with parents, exams, booze and, of course, sex. Berlie Doherty’s short novel, which I suspect was aimed at young adults, deals with one possible side-effect of teenage sex. Unplanned pregnancy.
This DVD turns up quite often in the supermarket bargain bucket, which has always put me off buying it, even though I’ve picked it up many times. Shows how much I know – ‘The Descendants‘ received 130 award nominations and won 65 of them! I watched it on the TV this week, so that was definitely a bargain.
in the nicki of time 
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