Tag: books

An adult woman with a natural afro hairstyle sitting on a couch with an open book in one hand, and sipping from a mug.

Picture this: It’s a cold, wintery day outside. There’s snow on the ground and, even with the sun shining above, the temperature is below freezing. But you’re inside cuddled up on your couch with a fuzzy blanket and a warm cup of coffee/tea/cocoa (because, you know, beverages). Maybe even the smell of cookies baking in the oven is wafting through the air...

What’s the one thing missing from this picture? A good book (or two or three) to keep you company as you curl up against the cold!

a pile of open books

There is something ridiculously satisfying and pleasant about logging books and other media I've consumed — at least for me. Anythink blogger Luke has written on this topic in the past, and while this became a happy pastime for me before I read his fascinating blog post, I was originally inspired by one of my favorite authors, Marissa Meyer.

A worn chapter book on the ground covered in fall leaves.

The first book I read by the great Ann Patchett was “Bel Canto,” and I remember the experience so vividly. I was newly married and had just moved to St. Louis. I didn’t know a single person there and was spending my days feeling nervous and alone while he was away at class.  After weeks of staying inside, I asked my husband to draw out a map to the nearest library; this was pre-GPS.

I have never successfully completed a reading challenge. For years, I have fine-tooth combed the many challenges offered by various blogs and celebrities. I choose one that sparks my interest and set out in a grand attempt to fulfill the listed requirements. My gusto rarely lasts past March and I quickly become preoccupied with a new reading goal, professional reading responsibilities, or, in the case of last year, a global pandemic.

As a child Reginald Dwight was shy and lonely, but possessed of an astonishing natural gift for the piano. Flash forward to Aug. 25, 1970, when the then 23-year-old would give a mind-blowing performance at the Troubadour, catapulting him into stardom. That fellow, the world now knows as Elton John, and this is his year.

mother snuggles up to her baby in bed

When someone becomes a new parent, they are often overwhelmed with advice from family, friends and strangers in grocery store check-out lanes. Since giving birth three years ago, my own parenting style has faced many questions and earnest concerns. My grandmother still does not understand why my female child loves cars.

A year ago, I lost my father. I don’t mean he was misplaced or that he’s wandering about in a hedge maze or anything – he died. It wasn’t a surprise, he’d been sick for a while. But it was terribly sad. Obviously. In the year since, my family and I have grieved his loss and celebrated his life in a number of different ways. I’ve discovered a sort of atomic half-life of influence he had on me, most surprising of which is just how much of a literary impact he made.

Pages