Consider this my interlude: This is so not my favorite reading year. I gave birth to a little human in the beginning of 2017, is why.
(See my 2016 books review here, which is probably my best one yet.)
So, I read six books in 2017. And I didn’t even finish one of them. So, 5 1/4 is more like it. But I will say that two of these were absolute gems–I’m going to hold these close to my heart for the rest of my life, or until my memory gives.
Here goes what (hopefully) will be my shortest yearly book review, starting with my highest to lowest rated books of 2017:
A Little Life by Hanya Yanagihira – 5
A Monster Calls by Patrick Ness, Jim Kay, and Siobhan Dowd– 5
Sandman (v.1-6) by Neil Gaiman – 4
Talk Like TED by Carmine Gallo – 4
Me Talk Pretty One Day by David Sedaris – 4
The Girl Before by J. P. Delaney – 1
And now, here’s a breakdown of the statistics I was most interested in.
I don’t think I’ll ever read more non-fiction than fiction. I’m not in school anymore, yo.
What, no sci-fi in 2017?! Truth can be stranger than science fiction…
Didn’t time-travel all that much.
Apparently I opted to spend some time in Hell than most other countries…
My eyes hurt, so much brightness.
I didn’t even realize I read someone from Uganda until I did some research on whoever the pen name J. P. Delaney was supposed to be. And I didn’t even finish his book. Basically, in 2017 I just read American people and their mothers.
My ladies, where y’all at?
This is flat-out embarrassing.
Okay, like I said, this was so not my greatest reading year. I’m not going to beat myself up over that, but I do find it rather telling that in times of stress and adjustment, it was apparently easy to pick up a contemporary book that was written by an American white man. The books I read this year were: taken from my bookshelf, borrowed from a friend, borrowed from the little free library in my neighborhood, and bought. Variety in distribution does not equal to diversity in authors, so I learned.
Here’s to a more colorful reading in 2018!