2022 in Books

I started the year determined to make a dent in my pile of books, not realizing that it would double and the stacks would spread throughout my apartment in bare corners and night stands and overflowing shelves. I read 15 books, and despite knowing that there are many people out there who were blessed with the time and energy to finish more, I’m proud of those 15 and would reccomend them all to my friends. There were classics I had just never read, some art books, nonfiction, and even a mystery and YA novel I truly wish I had read as a kid.

My top three were “1984”, “Pain, Parties, Work: Sylvia Plath in New York, Summer 1953”, and “Their Eyes Were Watching God”, although I’m pleased to say I genuinely enjoyed everything I read.

I’ve been reading more and more the past couple of years due to both an increase in alone time when the pandemic began and graduating from school which took up most of my time, and I’ve been so grateful to get back to a hobby that was a big part of me through my childhood and teen years. There is something so extremely comforting not just in reading but in being surrounded by books that, at least in my case, are mostly secondhand and have bits and peices of other people’s thoughts scribbled in the margins. Many of the pages are yellowed, the covers torn and fragile. My copies of “The Grapes of Wrath” and “Dead Man’s Folly” are crumbling at the corners. I wouldn’t have it any other way. We’re only one month in to the new year and I’m making even more progress in my personal library than expected.

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