Following up on my post of my fave fiction of 2025, I also read some great nonfiction and poetry this year. Poetry in particular was a wonderful treasure trove this past year, with new work from old favourites and discoveries from poets I hadn’t encountered before but immediately came to love.
Continue reading “My favourite books of 2025: Nonfiction and Poetry edition”
I read so many good books in 2025, it has taken me a few days to narrow down my absolute favourites. While, as I mentioned the other day, I’m hoping to read fewer books in 2026 and spend more time with each story, I definitely can’t complain about the quality of the work I read last year.
I tallied it up and I wrote about 40,000 words worth of book reviews on Goodreads in 2025, so if you want my full rundown on everything I read and loved (or didn’t love!) last year you should follow me there (for now… I’m trialling some non-amazon-owned alternatives to see if I can find a new bookish home in 2026), but here’s an overview of my 2025 fiction (non horror — they’ll get their own post!) faves:
Continue reading “My favourite books of 2025: Fiction edition”
I might be one of the only people out there with a New Year’s resolution to read fewer books. Most people want to read more, to put down their phones and stop doomscrolling and pick up a book instead. That’s not a problem I’ve had, ever – I spend plenty of time with my nose in a book, or listening to an audiobook on a long drive. And in 2025 I read a ridiculous amount: 165 books (134 physical and 31 audiobooks).
Of course I did enjoy the vast majority of them, but by the end of the year it was beginning to feel like quantity over quality. It’s not that I set out to read so many books, but there were a few elements of my reading life in 2025 that led to such a large number, and those are the things I’d like to change in 2026.
Continue reading “My 2026 reading resolution: read less”
It’s Banned Books Week, and with books, authors, and libraries under more pressure than ever (usually from the people who claim to be champions of free speech…), there’s no better time to celebrate the challenged, banned, and censored literature we love.
With reasons for challenges as nebulous (and as bullshit) as DEI content (aka “there was a Black person in it”) and indecent material (aka anything the complainant doesn’t like…), we must continue to fight hard for books and the people who write, share, and read them.
Some people are going to pretend that their reasons for wanting this or that book taken off the shelves are in good faith rather than based in their bigotry.
“I’m all for free speech,” say the so-called free speech warriors while they try to stifle free speech. “I just don’t think this is appropriate for kids,” they say, of books they haven’t read but have heard second hand that something in them conflicts with their personal beliefs (which obviously need to be foisted upon everyone else, because everyone knows that’s what free speech is all about).
And look, it’s true that not everything is appropriate for all ages. Even if it is a time-honored tradition for every kid to read a book (usually by Stephen King) that is extremely age-inappropriate for them. Mine was King’s The Dark Half when I was probably 12, although I’m sure others didn’t come long after.
But for folks who claim they want small governments and people to mind their own businesses, they sure don’t want to take responsibility for their own kids.
When I had to do an elementary school project on an aspect of colonial America, I had to get a permission note from my parents to be allowed to research the Salem Witch Trials (another formative event for me, I’d say). I wasn’t barred from it, and the books wouldn’t have been taken off the shelves if my parents had objected to my reading them; the school just wanted to be sure they were aware (aware of what? That they had a weird kid, probably).
With thousands of books challenged every year, you can be sure that almost every possible topic has been deemed offensive and inappropriate by someone out there (and I thought we were the snowflakes?). It’s particularly ironic to see classics like Fahrenheit 451, 1984, and The Handmaid’s Tale on the lists of most-banned books year after year, but we can’t forget about the many new and emerging authors for whom book bans and challenges can really damage.
And while reading is not activism (and let’s be real, neither is posting), I think it’s still good to stand in opposition to the folks trying to ban these books, who often admit to not having read them when they’re pressured to provide evidence of their claims, by reading and promoting banned books (and buying them to support those authors!)
Or, as the author that PEN America reports is the most banned in US schools, Stephen King, puts it:
“When books are banned from school libraries, run to your public library, or the nearest bookstore, and read what it is your elders don’t want you to know”
The leaves are falling, the pumpkin men are dancing and it’s currently the most socially acceptable season to read as much horror as you can get your hands on. Obviously, I’m a year-round horror kind of gal, but for those who save their scares for spooky season, I have some recommendations of horror novels, new and old, that will get you in to the Samhain spirit.
Just to keep it simple, I’ve stuck to books published in the last five years, and I’ve left out the obvious heavy hitters like Stephen King because I figure if you’re interested in the horror classics you can probably find them yourselves. But if you do want some recommendations by the masters and from the back catalogue, give me a shout.
I was thrilled that my book club allowed me to suggest a horror novel recently, and The Hacienda by Isabel Cañas was a big hit. This lush, atmospheric novel is as much romance as it is horror, and the beautiful writing will draw you in even if you’re hesitant about the scares.
There are no jump scares in The Bog Wife by Kay Chronister, only a sense of melancholy and decay that is potentially as scary as any ghost or demon. For those who love folk tales, family drama, and climate anxiety (maybe “love” is the wrong word), this book is the one.
If you know me, I’ve probably already told you to read Our Wives Under the Sea by Julia Armfield. But in case I haven’t, please read Our Wives Under the Sea by Julia Armfield. Weird, watery, beautiful and devastating.
Lee Mandelo is a master of the modern southern gothic, and Summer Sons is my favorite of his books. It’s visceral and compelling, and the sweat practically drips off the page.
The pregnant teenage characters in Witchcraft for Wayward Girls by Grady Hendrix are due a win as they’re sent to a miserable mother and baby home in 1970s Florida to be hidden away until they give birth. And if that win is getting tangled up in some seriously shady witch business? So be it.
If you’d rather your heroines just to be deranged for no reason, then Victoria Feito’s cheerful murderess Winifred Notty is your girl. Victorian Psycho, indeed. This book is wild and gory and so much fun.
The Reformatory by Tananarive Due and The Buffalo Hunter Hunter by Stephen Graham Jones have a lot in common. They’re both deeply inspired by true historical evils (abusive reformatory schools in the Jim Crow era Deep South for the former, the Marias massacre of Blackfeet peoples in the latter), they both bring supernatural elements to these real-life horrors, and they’re both written by authors who I’m confident will be regarded as integral parts of the literary canon for the genre in years and decades to come. Two powerful, frightening, incredible books.
Spanning a variety of genres and drawing inspiration from folklore and myth, Never Have I Ever by Isabel Yap is a short story collection that will appeal to horror and non-horror fans alike. A strong debut and I hope we’ll see more from Yap soon.
One for the weird girls, She’s Always Hungry by Eliza Clark reminds us that there’s nothing better than a really fucked up short story. A must-read for “The Shadow Over Little Chitaly” alone, which is formatted as a series of meal delivery app reviews.
Nobody does immortality quite like a vampire, and Bury Our Bones in the Midnight Soil by V.E. Schwab follows three vampiric women across their long, long lives, from 1500s Spain to 1800s London to 2000s Boston. Schwab’s story has all the timeless elements while also bringing something new to the classic tropes.
There’s an old myth that someone taking your photo can steal your soul, and a similar horrifying concept serves as the conceit of Old Soul by Susan Barker. As much as I love horror, I rarely feel genuinely shaken when reading, but this book definitely did it.
I think that, maybe more than in any other genre, most people who love horror can pinpoint exactly when they became fans. Why Horror Has a Hold on Us by Anna Bogutskaya explores those moments, as well as why the horror genre gets so many of us in its grips.
For a more academic take on the topic, Jeremy Dauber’s American Scary: A History of Horror, from Salem to Stephen King and Beyond provides an exhaustive but fascinating look at similar themes, with a focus on the way horror has held up a mirror to American society and history.
2025 has been a ridiculously good year for horror, with new books from big names, fresh faces, and scary stories across every sub-genre. I already wrote about my favorite horror books published in January-June of this year, and since then I’ve read plenty more that I’ll share about later.
Naturally, late-September through October is peak publishing season for horror, and some of the new and upcoming releases I’ve got on the tbr this month are Midnight Timetable by Bora Chung, Good Boy by Neil McRobert and King Sorrow by Joe Hill.
I’ve also been eager to read The End of the World As We Know It, an anthology of short stories set in the world of Stephen King’s epic The Stand, but I realized it’s been at least 16 years since I read the novel so I want to revisit it first. Anyway, what’s October without some Stephen King?
On the nonfiction side I’m looking forward to reading Somebody is Walking on Your Grave by Mariana Enriquez and Ghosted by Alice Vernon.
What are you reading this October?
Hi friends, long time no type.
This is always what happens around this time of year. As much as I say that summer is my least favorite season, as soon as the sun comes out and the weather warms up, I want to spend all of my time outside and none of it writing blog posts. I think it helps that it doesn’t get as ungodly hot and humid in Ireland as it does other places I’ve lived (and the sun and warmth aren’t givens either, so I always want to make the most of it).
Then autumn rolls around, and I start feeling like, well, I suppose a bit like hibernating animals feel as they get ready for the cold, dark days of winter. I get productive and motivated, preparing things and getting things done. Although I obviously don’t need to eat my weight in salmon or lay in a supply of acorns, I do get that “end of year” feeling around September where I start to wrap up some summer projects, start winter ones, and look ahead to my little New Year routines like setting up my bullet journal.
I know that I fall victim to SAD, particularly with Ireland’s extremely short, usually rainy days, so having routines and hobbies and things to look forward to helps. But I love this transitional time, when the air gets crisp and the days are shorter but not too short, and when I can take my summer activities into autumn.
I’ve gotten into foraging in the past couple of years, the fullness of the hedgerows and the lack of poison ivy in Ireland combining to create a good environment for it. I began with picking blackberries on all of my walks, sometimes coming back with a kilogram in only the half hour or hour I’d spend outside at lunch.
I’ve since branched (ha) out to hawthorns, sloes, elderberries, yarrow, meadowsweet. Basically anything that is easily recognizable and not potentially lethal. Like, I’d love to start foraging mushrooms, but I’d definitely want to get some expert training first; I’m not about to start just eating fungi out of the ground (cue “dumb ways to die” jingle).
I took my last foraging walk over the weekend, just before they cut the hedgerows back along the rows, in order to grab one last haul of sloes. Then, outdoor adventures completed, I turned to my indoor activity of processing my harvest. Some of the things I’ve made so far:
And I’m still planning to try some oxymels and ketchups and a few other recipes with what I’ve got left.
One thing I really enjoy about the process is how it almost feels like a ritual. I’ve been trying to get back into a yoga routine lately, and it feels similar, the journey of slowing down and making deliberate movements.
There are a dozen hacks online for the easiest and quickest way to remove tiny elderberries from their bushy stems, but why do we always need the easiest and quickest options? Why would I freeze the branches for faster removable or scrape the berries away with a fork to take them off in clusters rather than individually when I could sit cross-legged on the floor, listening to music and separating the berries from their stems one by one. It’s meditative.
Anyway, my goal for this year was to write at least 20 blog posts and this is number 19, so you’ll be hearing from me at least once more in the next few months. But as the temperatures drop and the days get shorter and I’m spending more time inside, I hope to spend more time writing as well, so I’d like to think there’ll be more than one more blog post coming along.
I have been reading an ungodly amount of books, so there’ll at least be a few book reviews on the horizon. The kind of thing you could read over blackberry jam on toast and a cup of mint tea.
