Good reads, Goodreads and looking ahead
Finding light in a bleak season and bleak spaces
There is something about the New Year starting under the cold, dark spell of winter that feels both inherently right and deeply wrong. It’s somewhat apt because birth and rebirth (even of years) are acts that require hard work, typically followed by a period of cocooned recovery before healing, growth and bloom. This period can be lengthy or brief, but it has to happen, and only then do we reemerge (hopefully strong, hopefully whole). After winter comes spring, and from this perspective, the timing of each New Year makes sense to me. But also it doesn’t, because what new beginning stems from a grey, icy expanse without sunlight or warmth? What are we, super villains? Our universal origin story could be summarized as it was very cold outside for a long time but without the magic of snow, and there was not enough natural light.
But then again, it’s not grey everywhere (sigh, Ontario) and not everything has a deeper meaning (until you assign it such).
I do not set resolutions, but I love goals. They help me identify and plot my direction, and writing them down helps guide my decision-making and priorities. I am a list-maker and there is always a note in my phone with my goals for the year, however ambitious or small each item may be. I don’t share them publicly because they aren’t for anyone but myself, and I don’t berate myself if I fall short—after all, progress is better than perfection. Last year, I met most but not all of the goals on my list, and I consider that a great success. I don’t typically strive for change; instead, I want constant, intentional, forward motion that reflects my values and objectives.
Two things I’ve been thinking about in recent days: good reads and Goodreads. I recently shared an Instagram post that highlighted twelve books I loved in 2023, with the caveat that ‘favourite’ doesn’t inherently mean ‘best.’ Art is and always will be subjective, and I don’t feel good about placing judgement on what others create or enjoy. Do I do it anyway? Yeah, because I’m human so I like some things and dislike others. We all react to art because that is what art should evoke—a feeling or reaction. But I keep the negative ones to myself—or at least offline—and make an effort to keep my facial expressions in check.
Fortunately, good reads are abundant. Stuart Ross’ The Book of Grief and Hamburgers cracked my heart open while Yellowface made me cackle and cringe in equal measure. I loved Nightbitch so much, took great comfort from Wintering and Ordinary Wonder Tales, and was moved, entertained and impressed by so many other books. It was an excellent year of reading, and many of these titles will stay with me for a long time.
Which brings me to my next point: Goodreads. Others have written extensively about its pros and cons (and cons and more cons) but at the end of the day, I’m a user. I set up an account in early 2022 when my first book was being published, and I’ve logged on consistently ever since. I hate that it’s owned by Amazon and in many ways is a literary dumpster fire, but I also feel really good that Send Me Into The Woods Alone has a pretty high rating (and an even higher rating on Amazon, fuck). I’d be lying if I pretended that seeing high ratings beside my book title felt bad. It doesn’t. But does it feel good? Mostly, but not entirely. Sort of like being praised for being a “super mom” when you put your own needs last: yes, thank you, I have your approval and that’s lovely, but also, can’t you see the system is broken?!
So basically: these platforms are a mess and have hurt a lot of authors, but selfishly, I use them anyway and know they have benefit me. Capitalism, baby! It’s trash, but it’s what our lives are built on. Setting it on fire is as terrifying as it is tempting.
(Would this be considered an optimistic New Year’s post?)
A final note on this subject: if you look at my Goodreads page, I have ranked every single book five stars. Some titles were added en masse and have no rating because I just marked them as “read” when starting my profile, but everything I’ve added and ranked in the past two years has five stars from me. Some of these ratings were genuine (I read a lot of great books!) while others were actually a three or four-star read in my mind—maybe even a two, gasp. But early on, I realized that I hated rating books and would not do it. Some jerk is going to give a perfectly wonderful (to me) book a two-star rating, so why can’t I give a mediocre (to me) novel five stars? It all balances out (it doesn’t, but at least I’m on the kinder end of this practice). It’s the opposite of being a review bomber; I sprinkle gold stars and good feelings onto this dark corner of the Internet. Not everyone will agree or approve, but trust me, I do not care. I hated one of the most popular books of the last decade and you’ll probably never know which one it was unless you get me drunk and ask me in person. I’ve chosen kindness, and maybe laziness to some extent, and I’m not looking back.
To New Years, good reads and staying true. Happy 2024, everyone.