Category Archives: Poetry

That effing brilliant book club from TV

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A neighbour walks into a favourite local coffee shop (East Toronto Coffee Co!), spots our group ensconced in a cozy corner, silently reading and enjoying our beverages, pastries and the company of fellow readers, and addresses us:

“Hey, are you the book club from TV?”

and we reply, “Why yes, we are!”

and he declares, smiling:

“You’re famous!”

Why yes, I guess we are!

… and not only are we famous, but we’re effing brilliant!

… and not only are we all that, but our group’s continuous celebration takes many forms, including sharing moving passages from our reading:

“The desk is empty except for a pewter mug – a polo trophy won by her grandfather – holding pens, and a small Persian box with a design in dull blue and gold. It had been her mother’s, and had held paper clips. The box gives Sarah a sweet tiny rush of feeling. It still holds her mother’s paper clips, she has never emptied it. She feels a near magical connection to the box, and to the paper clips inside, which her mother had touched. She can’t explain why – her mother had touched many things in the house – but the little box is charged. It was part of her mother’s daily life, and is still here, whole. She knows this feeling is only hers. Her children may know that the box was her mother’s, that the paper clips were hers, but it can’t matter to them as it does to Sarah. She never uses the paper clips. She wants to keep the link intact, as though the presence of the paper clips themselves, light and silvery and insubstantial, means that her mother might use them still.”

excerpt from Leaving by Roxana Robinson

Our discussion meeting this month took a different tack. Rather than a topic related to reading and readers, group members Tom and Lisa led a discussion on a specific book: Purple Hibiscus by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie. As they described it, “SBC is founded on the subtle quality of silence. Addressing Adichie’s Purple Hibiscus, [we] will be hosting a chat about silence as a powerful trope, and the importance and implications of confronting difficult issues out loud.” So yes, we were kind of gathering like a more traditional book club. It was an interesting change of pace, beautifully facilitated and instructive even if you had not yet finished the book or, in some cases, had blurred recollection of it because, say, one had read it during the early days of the pandemic.

The hands of a reader, holding a book, next to a table laden with more piles of books. The table, at East Toronto Coffee Co, has a

Silent book club member Vicki (that's me, with my signature messy hair and glasses), on screen getting ready for our zoom meeting, with books stacked next to my computer, including a stack of poetry collections I read during the Sealey Challenge, plus the novel Look After Her by Hannah Brown.

Standing outside the East Toronto Coffee Co coffee shop, holding two books: Look After Her by Hannah Brown and Disorder by Concetta Principe.

Silent book club meeting at the East Toronto Coffee Co, with the group's book selections spread out on the table along with beverages and pastries. The books include works by Concetta Principe, Hannah Brown, Karen Stiller, Andrea Abreu, Howard Jacobson, Benjamin Stevenson and John Ralston Saul.

Silent book club readers with their books open at the table at East Toronto Coffee Co

Oh my heavens, what another dizzyingly gorgeous and varied reading list we have to share again this month! Every title on our group’s lists means that at least one (but usually more) readers have given that title thoughtful consideration. That doesn’t mean that every work on our lists is expressly recommended – but that’s more than OK, we think. Inclusion on this list always means that our readers have devoted time and attention to a title – and that, dear readers, means a lot.


Wait, there’s more! How about some extra book-related articles, resources, news and recommendations? These items and tidbits are often companions to books on the list, or are inspired or offered by our members and/or come up during our discussions and chat.

Immerse yourself in our group’s previous reports and book lists right here!

You can also check out links to articles, interviews and more here – some with San Francisco-based Silent Book Club founders Guinevere de La Mare and Laura Gluhanich, and some with us here in east end Toronto.

Learn more about the worldwide phenomenon of silent book clubs via Guinevere and Laura’s Silent Book Club web site. In fall 2023, they welcomed their 500th chapter … and with continuing and astonishing momentum, they are now boasting over 1,000 chapters!!! (There were around 60 chapters when we joined as the first Toronto chapter in 2017.) You can find information on meetings happening around the world and close to where you live. Every club is a different size, format (in-person, virtual or combinations) and vibe, so contact a club’s organizers beforehand if you have any questions or preferences. Please feel free to contact me for more information about our club and its offerings.

And yes, if you see us silently reading “in the wild” … we are the book club from TV! 🙂

Literary quests – delightful, twisted, circuitous, comforting and more – all of them splendid!

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Our silent book club readers are a witty and articulate bunch, it probably won’t surprise you to learn. Sometimes as the conversation flows jauntily around one absorbing reading updates after another, the synopses of different books enchants as much as the books themselves. When, for example, one of our readers described a book as being a “twisted spiritual quest”, not only was I captivated, but it sent me off on a wee tangent (not for long, because I didn’t want to miss the next update) on how we’re often on different literary quests with our reading – and hence the title of our latest report. Nuff said!

Our discussion meeting this month revisited a previous topic that was shot through with new and troubling urgency. Can we/should we separate the person from the work? We’ve discussed variations on this subject before, but the shocking Alice Munro news has all of us very sadly contemplating this again.

Much has been written, was published as recently as a couple of days ago, and will still be written on this. We took as our cue this piece by American writer Brandon Taylor. We vented, we grieved, we expressed a range of emotions, we admitted that we didn’t know how to express our feelings, we acknowledged that privilege plays a part in what we should and should not be focusing on …

After the meeting, I was inspired to send this message to the group:

“Thank you” was not nearly sufficient, but I want to thank all of you for taking part in last night’s silent book club discussion pop-up. One of the many joys of assembling with you, virtually and in-person, is that it is literally a joy, a celebration, so uplifting. That we can also gather to take on the thornier aspects of being dedicated readers is, well, maybe not something we want to make a habit of … but when we do, I am so grateful to do that with such thoughtful, insightful, articulate and generous individuals.

Silent book club member Vicki's colourful stack of recent reading, including books by Naomi Klein, Phil Hall, Pamela Mulloy, Cherie Dimaline, Saeed Teebi, Susie Boyt, Colm Toibin, Dale Martin Smith and Alice Oswald

Silent book club meeting at the East Toronto Coffee Co, with the group's book selections spread out on the table along with beverages and pastries. The books in hard cover and digital format include works by Steven Johnson, Dale Martin Smith, Tommy Orange, Saeed Teebi, Joanna Goodman, Colm Toibin, Virginia Woolf, Safiya Sinclair and Ariana Harwicz

Silent book club meeting at the East Toronto Coffee Co, with the group's book selections spread out on the table along with beverages and pastries. The books in hard cover and digital format include works by Steven Johnson, Dale Martin Smith, Tommy Orange, Saeed Teebi, Joanna Goodman, Colm Toibin, Virginia Woolf, Safiya Sinclair and Ariana Harwicz. My white sneaker-shod feet are visible on the bench next to the table.

Silent book club readers with their books open at the table at East Toronto Coffee Co

Every title on our group’s lists means that at least one (but usually more) readers have given that title thoughtful consideration. To be honest, that doesn’t mean that every work on our lists is expressly recommended. However, inclusion on this list always means that our readers have devoted time and attention to a title – and that, dear readers, means a lot.


Need some extra book-related articles, resources, news and recommendations? These items and tidbits are often companions to books on the list, or are inspired or offered by our members and/or come up during our discussions and chat.

Immerse yourself in our group’s previous reports and book lists right here!

You can also check out links to articles, interviews and more here – some with San Francisco-based Silent Book Club founders Guinevere de La Mare and Laura Gluhanich, and some with us here in east end Toronto.

Learn more about the worldwide phenomenon of silent book clubs via Guinevere and Laura’s Silent Book Club web site. In fall 2023, they welcomed their 500th chapter … and with breathtaking momentum, they are now boasting over 1,000 chapters!!! (There were around 60 chapters when we joined as the first Toronto chapter in 2017.) You can find information on meetings happening around the world and close to where you live. Every club is a different size, format (in-person, virtual or combinations) and vibe, so contact a club’s organizers beforehand if you have any questions or preferences. Please feel free to contact me for more information about our club and its offerings.

Hoping you succeed in all of your literary quests!

The flood of poetry that was The Sealey Challenge 2023

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The Sealey Challenge describes itself as “a community challenge to read one book of poetry a day for the month of august”. The community is one of readers, writers/poets, publishers, booksellers and the poetry-curious. Since its inception in 2017, championed by US poet Nicole Sealey, it was always an online entity, since it was built not just on reader participation, but on boosting the challenge with the hashtag #TheSealeyChallenge. As such, that social media foundation means that it is inherently an international – albeit perhaps somewhat rarified – phenomenon.

I’ve been a steadfast reader of poetry long before then, but I joined the challenge in 2020 … why? To be honest, I don’t fully recall in what would have been the first six months of the pandemic, right? It might have been filling some time-related and other voids at a time when those of us who read a lot thought reading more more more would be a twisted upside to the many pandemic downsides … and then discovered “reading just [didnt’] feel the same or offer the same solace and escape as it did before the world changed as it did.” Whatever the reason, I did it, found it indeed challenging and a unique reading experience of the kind of works I read but seemed to read differently when it wasn’t compressed into 31 days.

I’ve risen to The Sealey Challenge every year since, so 2023 was my fourth year. Here is not all but most of what made up this year’s breathtaking poetry rush …

Poetry books (approximately 25-30) laid out in a tiled fashion on a wooden floor - including works by Kim Fahner, Ronna Bloom, Margaret Atwood/Charles Pachter, Amanda Earl and many more

(Some books are not part of the group photo because, for the first time this year, I included audiobooks on my reading list.)

On the eve of this year’s challenge, I tweeted (yes, like many, I still tweet, not x/post/whatever) that I was feeling exhilarated, a bit full and a touch weary – but oh, the poetry had challenged and delighted me again this year! I remarked that I’d read some great collections that I will be happily revisiting.

Anything you read for the first time during The Sealey Challenge that sparks your interest, you’re likely going to need to revisit to give it your full attention and assessment. (Well, if something is patently off-putting in one way or another, maybe not …) All four years I’ve done the challenge, I kept up but found the pace of 31 works in 31 days to be demanding. Even if your reading strategy includes pacing yourself with some shorter works – chapbooks and selections from literary journals spliced in between full poetry collections that could range from an average of 60 to over 100 pages – and even if you’re a regular and experienced poetry reader, that’s a rich and full plate to consume in a comparatively short period of time. The words, the text formats and layouts, the subject matter, the layers of reference and meaning, the richness of how things are structured and textured and formally constructed (or not) and orchestrated – it’s all going to demand a lot of you. If you averaged it out as, say, 70 pages per day for 31 days: that’s 2,170 pages of what could be wonderful, possibly unpleasant or bewildering at times, regularly emotionally taxing, intoxicating and cumulatively overloading stuff.

Under these conditions, I didn’t think it was fair or really possible to attempt to review any of these works – although I admire those challenge participants who did, in mini or even full reviews. I do think it would be fair to say I derived something from every single work I read, though – from snippets of startling wordplay or imagery to overall themes, concepts or subject matter that were arresting.

I note that I’ve been pretty consistent in several respects over the four years I’ve completed The Sealey Challenge:

  • Full collections vs chapbooks/journals/smaller works – 23/8 this year, compared to the same in 2022, 24/7 in 2021 and 25/6 in 2020.
  • Canadian works – 24/31 this year, compared to the same in 2022, 25/31 in 2021 and 22/31 in 2020.
  • Rereads – 9 this year, compared to 8 in 2022, 5 in 2021 and 6 in 2020.
  • Audiobooks – This is the first year I included audiobooks in the mix. I enjoyed four, three of which were read by the poets and one by a narrator/voice actor.

And with that, here is my 2023 reading list from the Sealey Challenge, including links to more information, images from some of the social media posts (posted completely to Twitter, Mastodon and Bluesky, partially to Spoutible and periodically to Instagram), and links to the full posts on Twitter, which included poetry excerpts.

1/31: Trouble by Amanda Earl (2022 Hem Press) (2022 Hem Press) Read the full post here.

Poetry work Trouble by Amanda Earl, held up amidst pink echinacea

2/31: Local Interest by Emily Hasler (2023 Pavilion Poetry / Liverpool University Press) Read the full post here.

Poetry work Local Interest by Emily Hasler, held up in the dark with a small reading light

3/31: The Built Environment by Emily Hasler (2018 Pavilion Poetry / Liverpool University Press) Read the full post here.

Poetry work The Built Environment by Emily Hasler, on a table with a notebook with an ornate green cover

4/31: Cosmic Horror by James Knight (2022 Hem Press) Read the full post here.

Poetry work Cosmic Horror by James Knight

5/31: Xanax Cowboy by Hannah Green (2023 House of Anansi Press) Read the full post here.

Xanax Cowboy by Hannah Green, with bright yellow cover, held up amidst equally bright blackeyed susans

6/31: Boat by Lisa Robertson (2022 Coach House Books) Read the full post here.

Poetry work Boat by Lisa Robertson, held up near a red brick pillar and some white rose of sharon blossoms

7/31: Selections from Cincinnati Review (Spring 2023), including Allison Adair, Brittany Cavallaro, Dean Rader, Jiewan Yang + more Read the full post here.

Literary journal Cincinnati Review, with colourful cover, sits in my lap as Airedales Mavis and Tilly look on

8/31: An American Sunrise by Joy Harjo (2019 WW Norton) Read the full post here.

9/31: There’s More by Uchechukwu Peter Umezurike (2023 University of Alberta Press) Read the full post here.

Poetry work There's More by Uchechukwu Peter Umezurike sits on a table with a notebook with an ornate green cover, a black pen and a small piece of red brick

10/31: Emptying the Ocean by Kim Fahner (2022 Frontenac House) Read the full post here.

Poetry work Emptying the Ocean by Kim Fahner, held above a mossy, rocky bank looking down toward water, with my bare feet visible, echoing bare feet on the book cover

11/31: Quarrels by Eve Joseph (2018 Anvil Press) Read the full post here.

12/31: Who is Your Mercy Contact? by Ronna Bloom (2022 espresso/paperplates books) Read the full post here.

Poetry work Who is Your Mercy Contact? by Ronna Bloom, with a bright green cover, on a bright green counter top with a notebook with an ornate green cover, with my feet in green sandals visible

13/31: Purge Fluid by Ivy Allsop (2022 Hem Press) Read the full post here.

14/31: Beasts of the Sea by Kate Sutherland (2018 knife fork book) Read the full post here.

Poetry work Beasts of the Sea by Kate Sutherland, with a bright blue cover, next to a blue drinking glass filled with water

15/31: Time is a Mother by Ocean Vuong (2022 Penguin Audio) Read the full post here.

16/31: Selvage by Kate Siklosi (2023 Invisible Publishing) Read the full post here.

Poetry work Selvage by Kate Siklosi open to a page with an interesting illustration, with trees in the background and a lake with a small island visible further away

17/31: Dreams and Journeys by Frederick McDonald (2022 Harbour Publishing) Read the full post here.

Poetry work Dreams and Journeys by Frederick McDonald, with colourful painting of Indigenous patriarch on cover

18/31: The Pet Radish, Shrunken by Pearl Pirie (2015 Bookhug Press) Read the full post here.

Poetry work The Pet Radish, Shrunken by Pearl Pirie, sitting on a patterned blue plate

19/31: Monitoring Station by Sonja Ruth Greckol (2023 University of Alberta Press) Read the full post here.

Poetry work Monitoring Station by Sonja Ruth Greckol, held up against a car dashboard as trees and a cell tower are visible through the car window

20/31: Cluster by Souvankham Thammavongsa (2019 McClelland & Stewart) Read the full post here.

Poetry work Cluster by Souvankham Thammavongsa sits on a desk in front of a pile of other poetry works

21/31: Some States by Tom Snarsky (2023 Ghost City Press) Read the full post here.

22/31: Indie Rock by Joe Bishop (2023 University of Alberta Press) Read the full post here.

Handwritten selection from poetry work Indie Rock by Joe Bishop

23/31: Shadow Blight by Annick MacAskill (2022 Gaspereau Press) Read the full post here.

Poetry work Shadow Blight by Annick MacAskill with notebook with an ornate green cover

24/31: Among the Untamed by dee Hobsbawn-Smith (2023 Frontenac House) Read the full post here.

Poetry work Among the Untamed by dee Hobsbawn-Smith sits on a blue table next to a plant with multicoloured leaves

25/31: Autobiography of Red by Anne Carson (1998 / 2016 McClelland & Stewart) Read the full post here.

26/31: The Art of Plumbing by Brecken Hancock (2013 above/ground press) Read the full post here.

Poetry work The Art of Plumbing by Brecken Hancock, perched amidst some old pipes

27/31: Ossuaries by Dionne Brand (2010 McClelland & Stewart) Read the full post here.

Poetry work Ossuaries by Dionne Brand, book and audiobook

28/31: Lime Kiln Quay Road by Ben Ladouceur (2014 above/ground press) Read the full post here.

Handwritten transcription from poetry work Lime Kiln Quay Road by Ben Ladouceur

29/31: The Broken Ark – A Book of Beasts poems chosen by Michael Ondaatje, drawings by Tony Urquhart (1971 Oberon Press) Read the full post here.

Selection from poetry work The Broken Ark - A Book of Beasts poems chosen by Michael Ondaatje, drawings by Tony Urquhart, held open near a green vegetable garden

30/31: Good People by Gwendolyn Guth (2010 above/ground press) Read the full post here.

Poetry work Good People by Gwendolyn Guth, sitting on colourful crocheted swath

31/31: The Journals of Susanna Moodie by Margaret Atwood & Charles Pachter (1997 Macfarlane Walter & Ross) Read the full post here.

Poetry work The Journals of Susanna Moodie by Margaret Atwood & Charles Pachter, open to colourful poetry selection

Am I already planning my 2024 reading for The Sealey Challenge? Of course I am!

A gathering of readers, like a grove of trees

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My silent book club friends can rest assured I’m paying close and avid attention when I chair our meetings each month (and by “chair”, I mean simply introduce each reader and then sit back and enjoy the insights and delights each one has to share). But sometimes reader’s book summaries and comments will set my mind down interesting paths, as was the case here:

“In Finding the Mother Tree, ecologist Suzanne Simard explains her decades-long research on the relationships among trees in the forests of British Columbia. Simard shows that the long-held “competition” model of forest ecology is inaccurate, and that instead the major dynamic among plant life in forests is cooperation and interdependence. She has discovered that trees in a forest are interconnected — they communicate and share resources through a complex underground network of fungi.”
(summarized in ShortForm)

Book cover for Finding the Mother Treeby Suzanne SimardAs wonderful in many ways as traditional book clubs (everyone reading and discussing the same book together) can be, this consideration of how trees may be interconnected immediately made me think of our silent book club orchard? copse? grove? differs from such groups in equally wonderful ways. Every month for close to six years now, I come away from every meeting and every scan of our combined reading list having learned, been nurtured, been challenged in good ways, had gates flung open, feeling throughout that my enrichment has been in concert with, not in competition with, my fellow readers.

Those I’ve spoken to about joining or starting their own silent book club groups often mention disenchantment with traditional book clubs that does sound like perverse forms of competition: that certain members always get to take the lead in selecting the reading, that getting through the reading is sometimes an unpleasant endurance race, that some readers’ interpretations of the assigned reading “wins” over others’. No, not all single book clubs are like that, but the complaints are a recurring theme that you won’t find with silent book club groups.

So as not to get too proud of how great a silent book club group can be … well, that such a group’s nurturing and “biodiversity” can be described with an analogy related to fungi will surely keep us all humble.

The question that kicked off this month’s themed discussion meeting was:

Do you keep track of your reading? If so, do you use a journal, spreadsheet, Goodreads or something else? If not, why not? Do you also keep track of recommendations / what you plan to read next?

Our conversation touched on lots of great ideas and options, including:

Silent book club member Vicki (that's me, with my signature rumpled curly hair and glasses), on screen getting ready for our zoom meeting, with books stacked next to my computer (including my Sealey Challenge poetry collections and the novel The Heart's Invisible Furies by John Boyne) with Airedale puppy Mavis sitting under the desk. More books and a painting of our other Airedale, Tilly, are visible in the background.

Silent book club member Sue reads Affinity by Sarah Waters, holding the book up to hide her face

While away running a weekend marathon, silent book club members Jenn and Sven spotted a Little Free Library box on the running/hiking trail. The LFL is nestled amidst trees.

Silent book club member Dawn, with shoulder length silver hair and handsome reading glasses, wearing a green hoodie, gestures ruefully with two books on the white table before her: Snacking Cakes and Breaking Up With Sugar

Here is our group’s latest combined book list (it’s breathtaking!), gathering up books mentioned and discussed at our end of August meeting. Each list reflects the reading of many of our members. Many provide their reading lists even when they can’t attend a meeting. The titles featured in each of our reports encompass print and digital versions of books, along with audiobooks.

Any title on any of our group’s lists means that at least one (but often more) readers have given that title some consideration. That’s encouragement for you and other readers checking out our reports and lists to consider it, too. Is that a recommendation? It might be, but not exactly or necessarily. Inclusion on this list always means that a title has been given thoughtful consideration and attention by our readers, which counts for a lot.


Here are some extra book-related articles, resources, news and recommendations. These items and tidbits are often companions to books on the list, or are inspired or offered by our members and/or come up during our discussions and chat.

  • Blended in to our combined reading list this month is one reader’s (er, my) list of Sealey Challenge selections – a challenge to read 31 poetry works in the 31 days of August – completed so far. When the challenge is over, I’ll post that list separately, in the order in which the works were read.
  • The SciFri Book Club, from Science Friday
  • Gamify Your Reading With This Readathon Board Game! (from Book Riot)
  • Books & Boba – An Asian American Book Club & Podcast – Books & Boba is a book club and podcast dedicated to spotlighting books written by authors of Asian descent. Every month, hosts Marvin Yueh and Reera Yoo pick a book by an Asian or Asian American author to read and discuss on the podcast. In addition to book discussions, they also interview authors and cover publishing news, including book deals and new releases.
  • 2022 Recipients of The Dragon Award – The award is described as following: “In a world of the ordinary, the Dragon is most astonishing. Its heart burns with determination and desire as it soars from page to canvas to screen. The Dragon’s inner fire elevates it above the mundane, and once released, inspires respect and awe from all who witness its greatness.”
  • Manga of the Month, from Reverse Thieves, a site that delves deep into character- and story-focused analysis of anime and manga, and sometimes look at the fandoms that surround those hobbies as well.
  • Hip-Hop Books for Adults from The New York Public Library – As part of hip-hop’s 50 year anniversary,NYPL’s recommended reads for all ages that explore the influence and impact of hip-hop, including memoirs by landmark artists, explorations of fashion, fiction inspired by hip-hop culture, and more

Our previous reports and book lists are always available right here, growing every month.

You can also check out links to articles, interviews and more here – some with San Francisco-based Silent Book Club founders Guinevere de La Mare and Laura Gluhanich, and some with us here in east end Toronto.

Learn more about silent book clubs via Guinevere and Laura’s Silent Book Club web site. You can find information on meetings happening around the world and close to where you live. Every club is a different size, format (in-person, virtual or combinations) and vibe, so contact a club’s organizers beforehand if you have any questions or preferences. Please feel free to contact me for more information about our club and its offerings.

Wishing you and the grove of readers around you – in person and virtually – all the literary sunshine, shade, precipitation and nutrition you need to thrive!

Where are here and there … when you’re reading and when you’re with fellow readers?

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I’m guessing our sense of place – both collective and individual – has changed significantly in very recent years. Where we are when we are here, when we are meeting, when we are with someone and so on has sharp new meanings when coupled with how we resorted to social media platforms or different renditions of virtual connection to stay in contact (one definition of contact, anyhow) when we were not able to be in physical proximity or contact. I won’t fill this blog post with too many meandering thoughts about what we might still be going through with respect to connecting or not connecting and what that means, because I do want to get to the latest brimming and delicious book list our group has amassed. But here are some questions and thoughts that popped up for me as I was prepping this month’s silent book club report:

  • When we meet virtually with fellow readers, even if most of those gathering are within walking distance of each other, is someone zooming with us from across a border or an ocean here with us? (The edges of east end Toronto extend here and here, so my answer is a hearty “yes!”)
  • When we meet in person on a patio, in a park or in a coffee shop with fellow readers from the neighbourhood, is the here that location or is the here the places we inhabit in our books once we’re reading silently together?
  • When we are reading by ourselves in our living room or on our balcony or porch or cottage dock, are we there with our other fellow readers, too … while we’re here wherever our books have taken us, as well as here in a comfy reading spot?

In some ways, maybe it’s neither here nor there, eh? We’re blessed to be able to read, we’re fortunate to have access to many ways to read, we’re privileged (in all good senses of that word that remain) to read what we want to read when we want to read it – and to lend our voices on behalf of those being deprived of that right.

Here (see what I did there?) are some of the places our readers and their books were this past month:

Silent book club member Philippa visited the Grolier Poetry Museum in Cambridge, Massachusetts
(Here’s an interesting piece from The Paris Review in 2013 on this destination literary landmark.)

Silent book club member Philippa visiting the Grolier Poetry Museum in Cambridge, Massachusetts - Elegantly bespectacled and wearing a green-gray blazer and white and green scarf, Philippa gestures to the book table beside her. She is surrounded by tall bookshelves and pictures of poets on the walls.

Bookshelves of Canadian poetry at the Grolier Poetry Museum in Cambridge, Massachusetts

More bookshelves at the Grolier Poetry Museum in Cambridge, Massachusetts, with the tail of a beagle visible in the bottom righthand corner of the picture

Books arranged on a desk, with a Snoopy mug, including Dearly by Margaret Atwood, Emma by Alexander McCall Smith and more

Silent book club member Mary's beagle Abby guards Mary's stack of books, including The Boy, the Mole, the Fox and the Horse by Charlie Mackesy

Silent book club member Kathryn (at the Wales side of east end Toronto) stacks her books in a chair with a cushion with the caption

New Zealand silent book club member Marilyn's books are stacked on the seat of a lovely red/pink chair with a red and gold multi-hued cushion. Books include Wild Honey - Reading New Zealand Women's Poetry by Paula Green

Sometimes other activities – like piloting an inflatable loon on a northern Ontario lake – distract one from proper cottaging activities like reading. But then again, with a beverage holder and some way to protect one’s books or reading devices from the water, an inflatable loon on a northern Ontario lake would be as dreamy a reading place as a hammock … just sayin’ …

Silent book club member Vicki, wearing swim trunks, a life vest, a green neon Tilley hat and wielding a canoe paddle, rides an inflatable loon on a northern Ontario lake

Silent book club member Vicki leans back in an inflatable loon, wearing a life vest, a green neon Tilley hat and sunglasses, contemplating how to read in such a comfy setting

Here (yes, here) is our group’s latest combined book list, gathering up books mentioned and discussed at our end of July meeting. Each list reflects the reading of many of our members. Many provide their reading lists even when they can’t attend a meeting. The titles featured in each of our reports encompass print and digital versions of books, along with audiobooks.

Any title on any of our group’s lists means that at least one (but often more) readers have given that title some consideration. That’s encouragement for you and other readers checking out our reports and lists to consider it, too. Is that a recommendation? It might be, but not exactly or necessarily. (This is rare, but a reader confided this month that one of the titles on this list offered one of their worst reading experiences ever …) That said, that same title might be one of your best reading experiences – who knows? Inclusion on this list always means that a title has been given thoughtful consideration and attention by our readers, which counts for a lot.

Some other silent book club and reading items of interest …

  • Here’s what looks like a wonderful there for silent book club members in New Zealand to meet!
  • A reader in Seattle has the broader silent book club network abuzz, thanks to her excited discovery and effusive praise of the silent (maybe not so silent?) book club experience.

    Silent Book Club “head office” offers an email listserv for those who organize and manage sbc chapters around the world, and that community is talking up a storm about the wave of interest and influx of new member requests that @hellomandyo’s video has generated. (Yes, we’ve welcomed lots of new inquiries, too – and look forward to meeting some new readers in the months ahead!) Some chapters run significantly higher capacity events than others (more on that another day), and some chapters are still virtual versus in-person, so how one engages with each group is different. I imagine the delight in reading, reading together and sharing reading delights with other readers, as captured by @hellomandyo, is consistent across all chapters around the world!

Our previous reports and book lists are always available to interest and amaze, not to mention threatening to send your tbr pile toppling! The reports and lists are always right here, growing every month.

You can also check out links to articles, interviews and more here – some with San Francisco-based Silent Book Club founders Guinevere de La Mare and Laura Gluhanich, and some with us here in east end Toronto.

Learn more about silent book clubs via Guinevere and Laura’s Silent Book Club web site. You can find information on meetings happening around the world and close to where you live. Every club is a different size, format (in-person, virtual or combinations) and vibe, so contact a club’s organizers beforehand if you have any questions or preferences. Please feel free to contact me for more information about our club and its offerings.

Here, there and everywhere, we hope your reading nurtures head and heart!

The happy blur of another year (2022) in reading

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Looking back on my years in reading in 2020 and 2021 was challenging because those were uniquely challenging years for all of us, in all ways. Enough said.

Looking back on my year in reading in 2022 is also proving challenging. The third year into whatever-we’re-calling-this-stage-of-yes-it’s-still-a-pandemic, we’re all coping, semi-resuming pre-pandemic activities and practices and forging new versions of normal. Some of the challenges I’m finding are actually not so bad, like, say, this challenge to this bookish household:

Mavis the Airedale puppy sits on a black leather ottoman, surrounded by books

Actually, Mavis (named after Staples, Gallant and Wilton) joined this household late in 2022, so she didn’t so much distract my reading as distract me from assembling my customary “year in reading” post this month. After work, playing with puppy, reading and hanging out virtually with book friends, writing about my reading feels kind of further down the list these days. And in all fairness to Mavis and her mentor, Tilly, our dogs are generally conducive to our reading, not a distraction. I am still feeling sharply the loss of a very dear reading companion, Jake, who was also a silent but influential presence at many of our silent book club zoom meetings.

Vicki's stack of recent reading, with dearly missed Jake the beagle-basset under the desk

Here are the books I read, reread and read aloud in 2022.
For each book on this year’s list, I’ve sought out links to reviews – not my own, but ones with which I concur – author interviews and/or publisher information. Hope this is helpful if you want to learn more about any of these titles.

I’ve remarked on the following in reference to our silent book club combined reading lists. I realize more and more that the same thing applies to me as a reader, one with a penchant for finishing all or most of what I start: Any title on any of our group’s lists means that at least one (often more) readers have given that title some consideration. That is encouragement, I’d say, for other readers reading our reports and lists to consider it, too. Is that a recommendation? It might be, but not exactly or necessarily. It always means that a title has been given attention and thought by our readers, which counts for a lot. So, that I have devoted my precious time as a reader to every book from the first page to the last means – at least to me, I hope to you too – that everything on my reading lists every year have been fully considered and overall, at least appreciated, often much more than that.

I’m also incorporating a feature in this year’s list that is perhaps as close as I’ll ever get to a “top x reads of the year” kind of distinction. As I was laying out this list of titles, some of them just glowed with memories of particularly satisfying or striking reads, likely paired with good settings, ideal company (or not), perfect timing and more. So, I’ve bolded those glowing titles. That’s it.

My 2022 year in reading, reflected in a page of my handwritten Book of Books, next to the poetry collection Hell Light Flesh by Klara du Plessis

January 2022

1. Hell Light Flesh by Klara du Plessis
2. Undersong by Kathleen Winter
3. The Art of Falling by Danielle McLaughlin
4. Postcolonial Love Poem by Natalie Diaz
5. The Storyteller by Dave Grohl

My 2022 year in reading, reflected in a page of my handwritten Book of Books, next to the poetry collection Postcolonial Love Poem by Natalie Diaz

February 2022

6. Strange Things by Margaret Atwood
7. Some Integrity by Padraig Regan
8. Emma by Jane Austen

March 2022

9. Reacher: Killing Floor by Lee Childs
10. Next Time There’s a Pandemic by Vivek Shraya
11. Such Color by Tracy K. Smith
12. Infinity Network by Jim Johnstone
13. Hail, the Invisible Watchman by Alexandra Oliver

April 2022

14. H of H Playbook, Euripides translated by Anne Carson
15. Gabriel by Edward Hirsch
16. Hotline by Dimitri Nasrallah
17. Mad Shadows by Marie-Claire Blais, translated by Merloyd Lawrence

May 2022

18. O Cidadan by Erin Moure
19. Suit by Samarth
20. Cluster by Souvankham Thammavongsa
21. A Terrible Kindness by Jo Browning Wroe
22. Shaheen Bagh by Ita Mehrotra
23. Say This by Elise Levine
24. Chhotu by Varud Gupta and Ayushi Rastogi
25. Still Point by E. Martin Nolan

My 2022 year in reading, reflected in a page of my handwritten Book of Books, next to the graphic novel Chhotu by Varud Gupta and Ayushi Rastogi

June 2022

26. Erebus: The Story of a Ship by Michael Palin
27. Almost Visible by Michelle Sinclair
28. Sorrow and Bliss by Meg Mason
29. The Space a Name Makes by Rosemary Sullivan

July 2022

30. The Books of Jacob by Olga Tokarczuk, translated by Jennifer Croft
31. The Worst Truth by John Metcalf
32. Blue Portugal and Other Essays by Theresa Kishkan
33. State of Terror by Louise Penny and Hillary Rodham Clinton, narrated by Joan Allen (audiobook)
34. Poguemahone by Patrick McCabe
35. None of This Belongs to Me by Ellie Sawatzky

My 2022 year in reading, reflected in a page of my handwritten Book of Books, next to the novel-length poem Poguemahone by Patrick McCabe

August 2022

36. Swelles by Sina Queyras
37. Personals by Ian Williams
38. Who is your mercy contact? by Ronna Bloom

My 2022 year in reading, reflected in a page of my handwritten Book of Books, next to the poetry chapbook Who is your mercy contact? by Ronna Bloom

39. Romantic by Mark Callanan
40. Third State of Being by Cassidy McFadzean
41. The Day-Breakers by Michael Fraser
42. The Bannisters by Paul Muldoon
43. Mother Muse by Lorna Goodison
44. Patient Frame by Steven Heighton
45. The Junta of Happenstance by by Tolu Oloruntoba
46. These Are Not the Potatoes of My Youth by Matthew Walsh
47. Starting With the Roof of My Mouth by Claren Grosz
48. Deepfake Serenade by Chris Banks
49. I’ll Fly Away by Rudy Francisco
50. The War Works Hard by Dunya Mikhail, translated by Elizabeth Winslow
51. Skin & Meat Sky by Klara du Plessis & Kadie Salmon
52. Palaces for the People – How Social Infrastructure Can Help Fight Inequality, Polarization, and the Decline of Civic Life by Eric Klinenberg
53. Answer to Blue by Russell Thornton
54. DC Poems by Joe Neubert
55. Pebble Swing by Isabella Wang
56. Durable Goods by James Pollock

My 2022 year in reading, reflected in a page of my handwritten Book of Books, next to the poetry collection Durable Goods by James Pollock

57. Paper Radio by Damian Rogers
58. The Lost Time Accidents by Sile Englert
59. Guest 16 [A Journal of Guest Editors], edited by Kirby
60. Letters in a Bruised Cosmos by Liz Howard
61. Pilgrim’s Flower by Rachael Boast
62. The Affirmations by Luke Hathaway
63. The Deleted World by Tomas Transtromer, versions by Robin Robertson
64. Blue Sonoma by Jane Munro
65. Selected Poems [1926-1956] by Dorothy Livesay
66. The Alphabet in the Park by Adelia Prado, translated by Ellen Watson

September 2022

67. Be Ready for the Lightning by Grace O’Connell
68. On the Trail of the Jackalope by Michael P. Branch
69. Not the Apocalypse I Was Hoping For by Leslie Greentree
70. Intruder by Bardia Sinaee
71. Sweet Home by Wendy Erskine
72. Small Things Like These by Claire Keegan

My 2022 year in reading, reflected in a page of my handwritten Book of Books, next to the short story collection Not the Apocalypse I Was Hoping For by Leslie Greentree

October 2022

73. The Story by Michael Ondaatje, drawings by David Bolduc
74. Small Game Hunting at the Local Coward Gun Club by Megan Gail Coles
75. Dubliners by James Joyce
76. The Whole Singing Ocean by Jessica Moore

November 2022

77. Straggle – Adventures in Walking While Female by Tanis MacDonald
78. My Grief, the Sun by Sanna Wani
79. The Book of Goose by Yiyun Li

My 2022 year in reading, reflected in a page of my handwritten Book of Books, next to the essay and poetry collection Straggle by Tanis MacDonald

December 2022

80. But the sun, and the ships, and the fish, and the waves. by Conyer Clayton
81. Seven Empty Houses by Samanta Schweblin, translated by Megan McDowell
82. Shimmer by Alex Pugsley
83. The Year of the Puppy by Alexandra Horowitz
84. Foster by Claire Keegan
85. To float, to drown, to close up, to open by E. Alex Pierce

My 2022 year in reading, reflected in a page of my handwritten Book of Books, next to the short story collection Shimmer by Alex Pugsley

In 2022, I read a total of 85 works. That’s down from the dramatic-for-me total of 102 works in 2021, but it’s still darned good. That total broke out as:

  • 26 works of fiction (novels and short story collections)
  • 49 poetry collections and
  • 10 works of non-fiction.

I reread 13 books. (I’ll blog about it next – our silent book club inaugurated its new themed format meetings with a discussion about delights and pitfalls of rereading.) I read 7 works in translation, read 3 graphic works and read 52 works by Canadian authors. My husband and I read 5 books aloud to each other this year, a lively and intriguing cross section of subjects and authors:

  • The Storyteller by Dave Grohl
  • Erebus: The Story of a Ship by Michael Palin
  • Palaces for the People – How Social Infrastructure Can Help Fight Inequality, Polarization, and the Decline of Civic Life by Eric Klinenberg
  • On the Trail of the Jackalope by Michael P. Branch
  • The Year of the Puppy by Alexandra Horowitz

I also kept track again this year of the publication dates of the books I read. In 2022, the oldest book I read was published in 1816 (Emma by Jane Austen), and I read 8 books before 2000, improving on my intention in recent years to read more older books. More than half of the books I read this year were published in 2021 or 2022.

So far in 2022, I’ve read or have in progress:

  • The Descendants by Robert Chursinoff
  • The Thinking Heart: The Etty Drawings (1983-1984) Claire Wilks by Jessica Hiemstra
  • Towards a General Theory of Love by Clare Shaw
  • Walk the Blue Fields by Claire Keegan
  • Lessons by Ian McEwan
  • Young Skins by Colin Barrett

To wrap it up in consistently Groundhog Day-ish fashion (just barely before Groundhog Day, actually), here are my observations from the last couple of years, which are still very applicable again this year:

For yet another year, I’m looking back with quiet satisfaction (and with gratitude to the practices and people who helped and inspired) on my reading during an extraordinarily difficult year, and looking forward with quiet optimism to where my reading this new year will take me. I’m grateful to the writers, publishers, reviewers and fellow readers who have spurred on and broadened my reading. I’m thankful as always for the bounty of beautiful words that came to me via so many conduits, evoking such an array of ideas, trains of thought, memories and associations, providing so much off the page, too.

I’ll simply conclude, once again …

It’s not how many books or works you read (in whatever form) that counts. It’s that you read that counts – and it counts so very much.

And I might add … If you can read in good company, be it a partner, a four-legged reading companion and/or a group of trusted bookish friends, your reading will always be imbued with a special, warm glow.

A year in reading to redeem the year that was

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Coming round to another January, it occurs to me that the pandemic has turned entire years into Groundhog’s Day. I’m doing my usual ponder of my year in reading, taking a look at the reflections of other readers and the books and reading that filled their year … and it’s all feeling like, well, we’ve been here before, in almost exactly these same circumstances.

That’s not entirely a bad thing. As I remarked this time last year, reflecting on 2020, our reading then was a source of diversion, comfort, inspiration and more, and it was again – as it needed to be – again in 2021.

Early in 2021, I was delighted to team up with writer and blogger Liza Achilles to tackle the subject of how to maintain one’s enthusiasm and focus for reading (essentially, to keep the reading mojo workin’) during the pandemic. We exchanged blog posts, with Liza’s piece appearing here and my piece appearing on Liza’s blog – and what a revealing and energizing exercise that was.

Again in 2021, most of the events and gatherings normally enjoyed live and in-person were online. The silent book club groups in which I take part all moved online during the first wave of pandemic closures and lockdowns, and largely continued on as such this past year. Once again, the attendees of our silent book club gatherings collectively helped each other through struggles with our reading – intermittent concentration, flagging attention span, lessened energy, emotions triggered and so on – and I chronicled some of that in our reports. As I mentioned last year, I was determined to keep up our groups’ reports and not only did that throughout this year, but got many of our group members to write the introductions, all lively and interesting in their own fashions.

Respecting local guidelines and restrictions, our silent book club members still managed to meet for brief, physically distanced, but still heart lifting gatherings in the park … even as the weather grew colder again.

Silent book club in the park in fall

Silent book club in the park in winter

Along with silent book club meetings, most of the book launches and poetry readings I would normally enjoy in person were largely online again in 2021. Virtual gatherings are getting more sophisticated and are smoothing out the technical challenges (although some of the zoom oopsies occasionally add welcome whimsy to the occasion) … but still, nothing can compare to live events. How uplifting that the indefatigable poetry force knife | fork | book was able to present live readings in a singular setting in east end Toronto, as part of the launch of kfb’s retail presence at Great Escape Bookstore. I rhapsodized about it all on Twitter.

knife fork book poetry reading at the Great Escape bookstore

Again this year, I took up the somewhat intimidating but rewarding Sealey Challenge for reading yet more poetry. Started in 2017 by American poet and educator Nicole Sealey, and steered through social media with the hashtag #thesealeychallenge, the idea is to commit and do your best to read 31 works of poetry over the course of 31 days in August. I managed to do it again this year. I always have had a poetry collection on the go, but reading at this pace turns it into a whole new, mind-expanding experience – at times overwhelming but always exhilarating. Again, it was such a boost. Yes, I will aim to do it again. This past challenge, I roughly planned out a reading sequence of full works, chapbooks and a mix of new, new to me and rereads, and am already mapping out my August, 2022 poetry playlist.

I continued my commitment in 2021 to a daily devotion to at least one poem … and usually more, as friends on Twitter continued to generously share their poem choices and reflections via the #todayspoem hashtag. I have now completed 10 years of uninterrupted daily poetry tweets and am barrelling on into year 11.

Another practice that continues to enhance my weekly reading joy as I navigate through books is that of #sundaysentence, championed by author David Abrams. As I’ve observed before, seeking a beautifully or uniqued crafted sentence each week sharpens my attention when I’m reading. I also love discovering new works through the #sundaysentence choices of other readers.

In years past when I’ve looked back on my reading, I’ve reminisced about where I was when I was reading this or that, or I’ve linked to longer notes and reviews here on this blog, on Goodreads, etc. As I refrained in 2020, I’m not going to do that again this year. Somehow, in spite of it all, I had a bountiful year of reading by just ploughing ahead – with, of course, a little help from my bookish friends. I’m going to keep doing that again this upcoming year in reading, and wish the same for everyone.

Here are the books I read, reread and read aloud in 2021.
(For each book on this year’s list, I’ve sought out links to reviews – not my own, but ones with which I concur – author interviews and/or publisher information. Hope this is helpful if you want to learn more about any of these titles.)

My 2021 year in reading, with selected books by Ken Babstock, Honoree Fanonne Jeffers, Elaine Feeney, Christy Ann Conlin and brandy ryan & Kerry Manders

January 2021

1. Rachel to the Rescue by Elinor Lipman
2. One Year at Ellsmere by Faith Erin Hicks
3. Dearly by Margaret Atwood
4. Gentlemen Prefer Blondes by Anita Loos
5. Swivelmount by Ken Babstock
6. Shuggie Bain by Douglas Stuart
7. Word Problems by Ian Williams

February 2021

8. Book of Wings by Tawhida Tanya Evanson
9. The Age of Phillis by Honorée Fanonne Jeffers
10. Beasts of the Sea by Kate Sutherland
11. As You Were by Elaine Feeney
12. Me Then You Then Me Then by Kathryn Mockler and Gary Barwin
13. silence, then by R. Kolewe
14. Ask About Language As If It Forgets by Hoa Nguyen
15. After Pulse by brandy ryan and Kerry Manders

March 2021

16. Transcendent Kingdom by Yaa Gyasi
17. Phillis by Alison Clarke
18. Their Queer Tenderness by Neil Surkan
19. The Speed of Mercy by Christy Ann Conlin
20. OBIT by Victoria Chang
21. The Devil by John Nyman

My 2021 year in reading, with selected books by Ani Gjika, Michelle Butler Hallett, Yaa Gyasi, Dallas Hunt and Doireann Ni Ghriofa

April 2021

22. Strangers by Rob Taylor
23. Villa Negativa by Sharon McCartney
24. Bel Canto by Ann Patchett
25. A Short History of the Blockade by Leanne Betasamosake Simpson
26. Rabbit Foot Bill by Helen Humphreys
27. the debt by Andreae Callanan
28. Against Amazon – Seven Arguments / One Manifesto by Jorge Carrion, translated by Peter Bush

May 2021

29. Magnetic Field – The Marsden Poems by Simon Armitage
30. How Beautiful We Were by Imbolo Mbue
31. Whereabouts by Jhumpa Lahiri
32. The Ouroboros by Jim Johnstone
33. Creeland by Dallas Hunt
34. Constant Nobody by Michelle Butler Hallett
35. The Clothing of Books by Jhumpa Lahiri

June 2021

36. Little Housewolf by Medrie Purdham
37. Homegoing by Yaa Gyasi
38. Dual Citizens by Alix Ohlin
39. Crow – From the Life and Songs of the Crow by Ted Hughes
40. The Beguiling by Zsuzsi Gartner

July 2021

41. The Family Way by Christopher DiRaddo
42. A Ghost in the Throat by Doireann Ni Ghriofa
43. Jonny Appleseed by Joshua Whitehead

My 2021 year in reading, with selected books by T.S. Eliot, Chad Campbell, Cory Lavender, Selina Boan, Elizabeth Brewster and Joseph Dandurand

August 2021

… including #thesealeychallenge (reading 31 works of poetry in 31 days)

44. Poisonous If Eaten Raw by Alyda Faber
45. Bread on Running Waters by Ani Gjika
46. Howl and Other Poems by Allen Ginsberg
47. Imitation Crab by Hamish Ballantyne
48. A Promised Land by Barack Obama
49. The East Side of It All by Joseph Dandurand
50. The Pit by Tara Borin
51. Nectarine by Chad Campbell
52. Four Quartets by T.S. Eliot
53. guys named Bill by Leslie Greentree
54. Walt by Shane Neilson
55. The Essential Elizabeth Brewster, selected by Ingrid Ruthig
56. This Is How It Is by Sharon King-Campbell
57. Me by Elton John
58. Deriving by Jennifer Bowering Delisle
59. DBL by Andy Verboom
60. Audio Obscura by Lavinia Greenlaw
61. Too Much Love by Gianna Patriarca
62. Undoing Hours by Selina Boan
63. The Bad Wife by Micheline Maylor
64. Ballad of Bernie “Bear” Roy by Cory Lavender
65. Smithereens by Terence Young
66. The Sacramento of Desire by Julia Bloch
67. Country by Michael Cavuto
68. All the People Are Pregnant by Andrew DuBois
69. Methodist Hatchet by Ken Babstock
70. The Wild Fox by R. Kolewe
71. 1996 by Sara Peters
72. I Am Still Your Negro: An Homage to James Baldwin by Valerie Mason-John
73. The Good Dark by Ryan Van Winkle
74. Morning in the Burned House by Margaret Atwood
75. Gospel Drunk by Aidan Chafe
76. Yes, I Am a Corpse Flower by Travis Sharp

My 2021 year in reading, with selected books by Margaret Atwood, Lucy Ellmann, Dana Spiotta, Jaspreet Singh and David OMeara

September 2021

77. Rain and Other Stories by Mia Couto, translated by Eric M.B. Becker
78. Wayward by Dana Spiotta
79. The Startup Wife by Tahmima Anam
80. Things Are Against Us by Lucy Ellmann

October 2021

81. Beautiful World, Where Are You by Sally Rooney
82. The Tradition by Jericho Brown
83. Masses on Radar by David O’Meara
84. My Mother, My Translator by Jaspreet Singh
85. goodbye, already by Ryanne Kap
86. On the Proper Use of Stars by Dominique Fortier, translated by Sheila Fischman

November 2021

87. Unreconciled by Jesse Wente
88. The Tinder Sonnets by Jennifer LoveGrove
89. Poetry is Queer by Kirby
90. How to Be Happy Though Human by Kate Camp
91. Ghosthawk by Matt Rader
92. To Star the Dark by Doireann Ni Ghriofa
93. Crossroads by Jonathan Franzen
94. Myself a Paperclip by Triny Finlay

My 2021 year in reading, with selected books by Salena Godden, Triny Finlay, Silmy Abdullah, Patrick Radden Keefe and Victoria Kennefick

December 2021

95. Mrs Death Misses Death by Salena Godden
96. Best Canadian Poetry 2021, edited by Souvankham Thammavongsa
97. Home of the Floating Lily by Silmy Abdullah
98. Empire of Pain by Patrick Radden Keefe
99. Dante’s Indiana by Randy Boyagoda
100. The Historians by Eavan Boland
101. Disorientation – Being Black in the World by Ian Williams
102. Eat or We Both Starve by Victoria Kennefick

In 2021, I read a total of 102 works. That broke out as:

  • 27 works of fiction (novels and short story collections)
  • 63 poetry collections and
  • 12 works of non-fiction.

I reread 5 books. I read 5 works in translation, read one graphic work and read 64 works by Canadian authors. My husband and I read 2 books aloud to each other this year – A Promised Land by Barack Obama and Empire of Pain by Patrick Radden Keefe – both absorbing works that felt like long but very worthy journeys.

I also kept track again this year of the publication dates of the books I read. In 2021, the oldest book I read was published in 1925 (Gentlemen Prefer Blondes by Anita Loos), but only read four books before 2000, kind of backtracking on my intention in recent years to read more older books. More than half of the books I read this year were published in 2020 or 2021.

So far in 2022, I’ve read or have in progress:

  • Hell Light Flesh by Klara du Plessis
  • Postcolonial Love Poem by Natalie Diaz
  • Undersong by Kathleen Winter
  • The Storyteller by Dave Grohl (read aloud)

To wrap it up in consistently Groundhog Day-ish fashion, here are my observations from a year ago, which are still very applicable again this year:

For yet another year, I’m looking back with quiet satisfaction (and with gratitude to the practices and people who helped and inspired) on my reading during an extraordinarily difficult year, and looking forward with quiet optimism to where my reading this new year will take me. I’m grateful to the writers, publishers, reviewers and fellow readers who have spurred on and broadened my reading. I’m thankful as always for the bounty of beautiful words that came to me via so many conduits, evoking such an array of ideas, trains of thought, memories and associations, providing so much off the page, too.

I’ll simply conclude …

It’s not how many books or works you read (in whatever form) that counts. It’s that you read that counts – and it counts so very much.

Getting through it together, one book at a time

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“Lots of time … and I don’t know what I’m doing with it.” That’s how one ruefully bemused silent book club member described what would have been a booklover’s delicious dream not so long ago – hours and days and weeks of unstructured, uncommitted, unscheduled time to just read, read, read …

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dawn-image0While we’re all still struggling with the distractions of this strange time, us readers are still meeting, comparing notes, working up the energy to enthuse about the reading delights and victories , getting through it together. When we each click “Leave Meeting” to start our shared hour of reading in spirit, I’m certain we’re all coming away feeling bolstered by the company and encouragement. We need to keep doing this, don’t we?

As I did in our last report, I want to share another appreciation on the value of our group from one of our members. Emilia’s is like a love letter, and while poignant, it sounds beautifully hopeful notes for how we are getting through, and what we will look forward to resuming once this is got through:

Dear lovely SBC people,

I live in books. For me, books have always been an escape, a home, a friend, a salvation, a teacher, a window, a mirror, a hope, and a promise. I taught myself to read when I was 4. I’ve been reading ever since. I cannot stress how truly life-saving this has been.

Another life-saving thing has been to – quite late in life, I feel – begin to consciously and deliberately seek out fellow readers and connect with them. You know how they say you should “step out of your comfort zone” now and then? Well, I had spent most of my life outside of mine. Joining the SBC was a much-needed step back *into* that comfort zone.

And, let me tell you, it felt like stepping into a hot bath after a long hard day. Our meetings are the highlight of my month. Invariably, I look forward to sitting with you in companionable silence, to listening to your bookish adventures and suggestions, and wishing, much like Harry had when he first saw the magic of Diagon Alley, that I “had about eight more eyes”, so that I could read all your fascinating recommendations.

PS. I was a book club virgin before the SBC. Since joining, I’ve also tried a regular book club and, somehow, found it much less satisfactory. All I could think was, “Well, that sure was different. Everyone reading and discussing the same book? Weird!”

While we all remain a little concerned individually that our reading enthusiasm and tempo is suffering these days, collectively we still offer a very heartening cornucopia of books. Here is the latest:

You can always catch up on our previous silent book club meeting reports and book lists here.

We’re pleased and honoured to have been interviewed about the silent book club concept and how to start a club of one’s own. You can check out links to articles, CBC Radio interviews and more here – some with San Francisco-based Silent Book Club founders Guinevere de La Mare and Laura Gluhanich, and some with us here in east end Toronto.

Under the current circumstances, this text I put at the end of each silent book club report isn’t entirely applicable, but I’m going to repeat it with optimism anyhow:

If you’ve so far enjoyed the silent book club experience virtually, are you tempted to experience it firsthand? Via Guinevere and Laura’s Silent Book Club web site, you can find information on meetings happening around the world and close to where you live. If you’re interested in starting your own silent book club or are in the Toronto area and perhaps interested in checking ours out, check out the resources on the Silent Book Club web site, or please feel free to contact me for more information.

And the sign-off from our last couple of reports is, I think, still very applicable:

We will wait until we can again fling open our doors, venture out and gather in our communities. A silent book club meeting with friends and neighbours, held at and in support of a local business exemplifies exactly the kinds of freedoms we are foregoing now to get through these unsettled and unsettling times … and is where we’re all going to want to be when we get through this. Read well where you are now, be well and let books buoy your spirits and make the time pass swiftly.

Doubling (tripling, quadrupling, constantly expanding) our silent book club pleasures

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Some snow swirling about did not deter us from making it to Press on the Danforth for two silent book club meetings this week. Really, we were quite cognizant that we had nothing to complain about weather-wise. We were grateful we could open our doors to get out to come to our meetings … unlike our fellow Canadians in St. John’s, Newfoundland, who were quite literally house-bound by the storms that hit their region.

Back in September, we hosted two meetings in one weekend to meet continued demand for the somewhat limited number of seats at our silent book club table. As we observed then, by doubling the number of meetings, we were able to welcome new attendees, still have room for our ongoing members, and not compromise the quality of our gatherings – or blow out Press’ walls – with too large a group. Then and now, we also encourage people to seek out the new silent book clubs starting to flourish in midtown Toronto and Mississauga. (Please contact me for more details.)

Another good reason to double up our meetings, when and if we can, is simply because we love them and they’re an excuse to help us through the winter. That’s why we’re doing just that this month and in February and March. So, enjoy this month and stay tuned for the next two months’ reports for especially bountiful book lists which will capture two days’ worth of great discussions and reading.

While we’re always looking to multiply our own bookish pleasures, we had another tremendous opportunity to extend the book manna our group enjoys with others. One of our members is involved in harvesting book donations for Canadian prison libraries, so our group, our generous venue and others gathered more than a carload of books for the cause. (In fact, the donation drive continues to February 14th if anyone reading this report is interested in contributing.) When we are not contributing to specific initiatives like this, we also contribute to the many Little Library boxes in this neighbourhood the books that have made the rounds in our group.

Not only did we get to celebrate the glories of the contents of the books we read and discussed this weekend, we relished the beauty of the physical books themselves. We ooh’ed and ahh’ed over the fine French flaps on the paperback copy of The Silence of the Girls by Pat Barker and the lush covers and illustrated interiors of The Very Persistent Gappers of Frip by George Saunders and One Drum by Richard Wagamese. Loveliest of all with the bright jewel of a special edition of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice, part of the striking Penguin Drop Cap Editions.

Silent book club member presents books by Chuck Wendig and Jane Austen (Penguin Drop Cap Edition)

In addition to, as usual, extolling the virtues of the books we’re all enjoying, silent book club members touted this year’s Toronto Public Library Reading Challenge and an under-the-radar online book source, Book Outlet. Oh, and I modeled my recently acquired SBC hoodie (so utterly perfect for cozy reading) from the newly refreshed selection of Silent Book Club merchandise.

Silent book club member models SBC hoodie

And then, after all that, we got down to some companionable silent reading together!

The following list encapsulates two meetings’ worth of books discussed thoughtfully, read voraciously and honoured with love and respect by truly avid readers (also captured in this month’s pictures of bookish affection). This list, presented after every month’s gathering or gatherings, is not only a service to everyone who attends in person, but it’s meant to extend what we share at each meeting to a virtual network of fellow readers – so enjoy! Each title links to additional information about the book, either from the publisher, from articles about the book or author, or from generally positive and/or constructive reviews.

During each silent book club meeting, we usually spread our books out on the meeting tables, and I take a few pictures (occasionally a video) to give a visual summary of what we read and discussed. For a change of pace, I took some pictures at this weekend’s meetings of our readers proudly and lovingly presenting their books.

Silent book club member presents books by Pat Barker and Zoe Whittall

Silent book club member presents books by Zadie Smith and Jill Liddington

Silent book club member presents books by Stephanie Pearl-McPhee, Richard Wagamese and Alan Bennett

Silent book club member presents books by Barbara Foster and Cherie Dimaline

Silent book club member presents a book by Robyn Doolittle

Silent book club member presents a book by Amor Towles

Silent book club member presents a book by Joel Golby

Silent book club member presents a book by George Saunders

Silent book club member presents a book by Lucy Ellmann

Silent book club member presents a book by James McBride

Silent book club member presents books by Jennifer Weiner and Donatella Di Pietrantonio

Silent book club member presents books by Hella S. Haasse and Lori Gottlieb

Silent book club member presents book by Greg Bear

Silent book club member presents books by Russell Brand and Dave Barry

As always, you can catch up on our previous silent book club meeting reports and book lists here.

We’re pleased and honoured to have been interviewed about the silent book club concept and how to start a club of one’s own.

San Francisco-based Silent Book Club founders Guinevere de La Mare and Laura Gluhanich were most recently featured in a wonderful piece on the NPR web site (yes, National Public Radio, thank you very much!). Extensive and enthusiastic coverage silent book club coverage includes this piece in the February 2019 issue of O, the Oprah Magazine, describing the club’s genesis and extolling its virtues as the concept and clubs spread worldwide.

If you’ve so far enjoyed the silent book club experience virtually, might you resolve in the new year to experience it firsthand? Via Guinevere and Laura’s Silent Book Club web site, you can find information on meetings happening around the world and close to where you live. If you’re interested in starting your own silent book club or are in the Toronto area and perhaps interested in checking ours out, check out the resources on the Silent Book Club web site, or please feel free to contact me for more information.

Celebrating what, where and how I read in 2019

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Early January, in that sweet cushion of time between post-holiday festivities and pre-back to work, has become a time I relish for contemplating my year past in reading and for absorbing and appreciating the musings of fellow readers as they share their own reflections. Interestingly, I find myself leaping/flipping/scrolling past the “best of” lists and instead gravitating more and more to the reflections about reading as exploration, revelation, often deliciously meandering journey, shared experience, opportunity to bust out of staid categories and forge new ones … and more.

Those who read steadily and think about reading inspire me, including Shawna Lemay, Kerry Clare, Tanis MacDonald (who, if you’re fortunate to be connected to her on Facebook, has done some mighty category-busting this year). Those who gather to share with delight and fervor their varied reading experiences, such as the generous attendees at two different silent book club gatherings I attended regularly this year, bring my reading enthusiasm and devotion to new levels every month.

Reading is not a competitive sport, but that doesn’t stop me from challenging myself (and, I hope not intimidatingly, others at times) … and this turned out to be a banner year, particularly after the struggles with which I contended in 2018. I read the most books ever in a year since I’ve been keeping track – 65 – and I came this close to considering posting a “10 best” list this year because some of the reading was that good. But I reminded myself that sometimes the setting and circumstances and company and more around each particular read often elevated what I was reading, and it’s those experiences I want to celebrate and strive to have more of in future.

In addition to my year’s reading list, I continued my commitment in 2019 to a daily devotion to at least one poem … and usually more, as friends on Twitter continued to generously share their poem choices and reflections via the #todayspoem hashtag. I’m now heading into my ninth uninterrupted year (that’s right, I have not missed a single day) of poetry tweets.

Another practice that heightens my weekly reading joy as I navigate through books is that of #sundaysentence, tirelessly championed and curated by author David Abrams. As I observed last year, seeking a weekly gem seems to sharpen my attention when I’m reading, and I love discovering new works through the #sundaysentence choices of other readers.

Last year, my husband arranged for my then 35-year-old book of books (in which I’ve recorded my reading since I graduated from university in 1983) to be beautifully rebound, by bookbinder Don Taylor. Now 36 years old, it is still the place I go to first to record my continued adventures in reading.

Here are the books I read and read aloud in 2019, with a few recollections of where I was when I was reading them.

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  1. Milkman
    Anna Burns
    2018

    2. “Knowledge didn’t guarantee power, safety and relief and often for some it meant the opposite of power, safety and relief – leaving no outlet for dispersal either, of all the heightened stimuli that had been built by being up on in the first place. Purposely not wanting to know therefore, was exactly what my reading-while-walking was about.”

    I so enjoyed getting lost in the feisty and singular voice of reading-while-walking maybe-girlfriend middle sister in Anna Burns’ Milkman. This book was a steady companion for the first couple of weeks of the year, at home, on transit and at silent book club.

  2. Years, Months, and Days
    Amanda Jernigan
    2018

  3. Voodoo Hypothesis
    Canisia Lubrin
    2017

  4. Machine Without Horses
    Helen Humphreys
    2018

    5. I remember reading this at home in a fairly swift and gorgeous swoosh. Helen Humphreys is consistently masterful at creating lush prose around sometimes unlikely subjects, this time the imagined life and thoughts of real life salmon-fly dresser, Megan Boyd, a craftswoman who worked for sixty years out of a bare-bones cottage in a small village in the north of Scotland. That remote cottage was visited by Prince Charles, an avid user of her uniquely crafted flies who made the trip there to present her with the British Empire Medal.

  5. OBITS.
    tess liem
    2018

  6. The Emissary
    Yoko Tawada, translated by Margaret Mitsutani
    2018
  7. The Long Take
    Robin Robertson
    2018

    8. “He walks. That is his name and nature. / Rows of buildings, all alike, / doors and windows, people going in, looking out; / inside – halls and stairs, halls and stairs, / and more doors, opening and closing.”

    Robin Robertson’s The Long Take is a singular and hypnotic blend of poetry and prose, sometimes starting as one and ending as the other in one paragraph, sentence or phrase.

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  8. City Poems
    Joe Fiorito
    2018
  9. Reproduction
    Ian Williams
    2019

    10. From the very, very cold January night when Ian Williams launched his debut novel to a very cold night in November at the end of the Canadian literature awards season, it was a pleasure to cheer on Reproduction. The book is challenging in its experimental approach to how language on the page can evolve – clearly drawing on the poetry foundation of Williams’ oeuvre – and its cast of characters is thorny, but diligent readers are rewarded for giving this book full and concentrated attention.

  10. Wuthering Heights
    Emily Bronte
    1847
    (read aloud)

    11. Yes, dear readers, we read Wuthering Heights aloud … and its tempestuous plot and characters and often exquisitely overwrought prose made it a surprisingly entertaining experience from beginning to end. As the likes of Meghan Cox Gurdon contend – and my husband and I have known and appreciated for years – “Storytime isn’t just for young children”.

  11. Indecency
    Justin Phillip Reed
    2018
  12. Can You Ever Forgive Me? Memoirs of a Literary Forger
    Lee Israel
    2008

    13. In rapid succession, I read the book and then we saw the movie, where Lee Israel is portrayed unforgettably by Melissa McCarthy. Book and movie are an unusually well-matched pair of interpretations of an intriguing bookish tale and singular character.

  13. Lillian Boxfish Takes a Walk
    Kathleen Rooney
    2017

    14. Lillian Boxfish Takes a Walk made the rounds as a popular choice of our silent book club.

  14. Nirliit
    Juliana Leveille-Trudel, translated by Anita Anand
    2018
  15. Human Hours
    Catherine Barnett
    2018

    16. This collection of sometimes rueful but always very grounded poems about everyday human frailties and foibles was one of my favourite poetry reads of the past year.

  16. Living Up To a Legend
    Diana Bishop
    2017
    (read aloud)
  17. The Quaker
    Liam McIlvanney
    2018
  18. The Organist – Fugues, Fatherhood and a Fragile Mind
    Mark Abley
    2019

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  19. Wonderland
    Matthew Dickman
    2018
  20. Gingerbread
    Helen Oyeyemi
    2019
  21. These are not the potatoes of my youth
    Matthew Walsh
    2019

    22. “I get so worried when I see space news. I heard astronauts
    incinerate their underwear and the ash falls to Earth.”
    Couch potato by Matthew Walsh from These are not the potatoes of my youth

    Indisputably my favourite title of the year, this was also one of my favourite poetry reads of 2019.

  22. Quarrels
    Eve Joseph
    2018

    23. This haunting prose poetry collection won the 2019 Griffin Poetry Prize.

  23. Belonging – A German Reckons with History and Home
    Nora Krug
    2018

    24. This book presents an intriguing approach to a non-fiction/memoir piece tackling troubling subject matter. Nora Krug uses a beautifully realized illustrated / graphic novel format to confront her family’s wartime past in Nazi Germany. I came to this book by way of a trusted recommendation from a silent book club friend.

  24. No Bones
    Anna Burns
    2001

    25. This early Anna Burns novel was also recommended to me by the silent book club friend from whom I learned about Nora Krug’s Belonging – A German Reckons with History and Home. It was interesting to see Anna Burns building her craft to what culminates so exquisitely in Milkman.

  25. The Perseverance
    Raymond Antrobus
    2018

    26. The Perseverance by Raymond Antrobus – moving, fierce, unforgettable – garnered awards and attention galore in 2019, particularly astonishing and gratifying for a debut collection. How wonderful that the work was shortlisted for the 2019 Griffin Poetry Prize, which means we got to see and capture a powerful presentation of his poems:

  26. Women Talking
    Miriam Toews
    2018
  27. Girl of the Southern Sea
    Michelle Kadarusman
    2019

    28. “You’ll know when the Queen of the Sea is here because she calms the waters and the clouds gather overhead.”

    I enjoyed Michelle Kadarusman’s gorgeous middle grade novel Girl of the Southern Sea myself before giving it to a young friend. The book was a highly deserving finalist for the 2019 Governor General’s Literary Awards in the category of Young People’s Literature.

  28. Watching You Without Me
    Lynn Coady
    2019

    29. This book is astoundingly well-crafted, a perfect balance of contemporary family drama, intriguing and cautionary character study and flat-out pageturner suspense thriller. Lynn Coady has created something singular, giving us food for thought about how we care for each other and how life evolves and sometimes changes abruptly and demands that we cope – all while mining our deepest fears yet never losing sight of the value of human compassion and resilience.

  29. Normal People
    Sally Rooney
    2018
  30. The Art of Dying
    Sarah Tolmie
    2018

    31. “This is of course why love exists.
    Love, that coping mechanism
    That lets you live while something isn’t

    Wholly satisfactory.”
    56 by Sarah Tolmie from The Art of Dying

    These sly, feisty, sometimes disarmingly vulnerable poems are packaged within my favourite bookcover of the year.

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  31. There Are Not Enough Sad Songs
    Marita Dachsel
    2019

    32. “Tell me, as we take in this splendour,
    have we run out of firsts – the ones that glow,
    that bring joy? Old friend, please say no.”
    now is the season of open windows by Marita Dachsel from There Are Not Enough Sad Songs

  32. Most of What Follows is True
    Michael Crummey
    2019
  33. On Looking – Eleven Walks with Expert Eyes
    Alexandra Horowitz
    2013
    (read aloud)

    34. Anything by Alexandra Horowitz is read-aloud friendly, in our experience.

  34. Heave
    Christy Ann Conlin
    2002
  35. Into That Fire
    MJ Cates
    2019
  36. The Teardown
    by David Homel
    2019
  37. Watermark
    Christy Ann Conlin
    2019

    38. Having just read Heave (again, another spot-on recommendation from a silent book club friend), it was a particular treat to then get an advance copy of Christy Ann Conlin’s riveting short story collection Watermark, in which one of the stories is a variation on the startling opening sequence of Heave (which, by the way, was written 17 years earlier).

    Our annual cottage weekend with friends includes an evening of readings, for which I selected the Flannery O’Connor-esque story “Full Bleed” – whoa.

  38. Casting Deep Shade
    C.D. Wright
    2019

    39. “For healing, esp asthma in a child: core out a hole in trunk, put lock of asthmatic’s hair in hole. Plug hole. When child has reached height of hole, asthma will be all gone.”
    from Casting Deep Shade by C.D. Wright

    At its very simplest a meditation on the power and presence of trees, C.D. Wright’s posthumously published Casting Deep Shade is a treasure with which to spend concentrated and devoted time as it runs the emotional and intellectual gamut and takes you through poetry, prose, folklore, technical and scientific discourse, history and much more.

  39. The Flamethrowers
    Rachel Kushner
    2013
  40. Broke City
    Wendy McGrath
    2019
  41. The Nickel Boys
    Colson Whitehead
    2019
  42. The Mars Room
    Rachel Kushner
    2018

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  43. House Divided – How the Missing Middle Will Solve Toronto’s Affordability Crisis
    edited by John Lorinc, Alex Bozikovic, Cheryll Case and Annabel Vaughan
    2019
  44. Late Breaking
    K.D. Miller
    2018

    45. The stories in this collection gain additional resonance as each one is associated with an Alex Colville painting.

  45. The Caiplie Caves
    Karen Solie
    2019

    46. “it’s no crime to resemble discarded inventory
    not a crime to regard others
    with what appears to be only basic species recognition”
    An Unexpected Encounter with He Who Has Been Left Alone to His Perils by Karen Solie from The Caiplie Caves

  46. Mister Sandman
    Barbara Gowdy
    1996
  47. The Innocents
    Michael Crummey
    2019
  48. Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead
    Olga Tokarczuk, translated by Antonia Lloyd-Jones
    2018

    49. Spirited Janina is one of my favourite characters tromping determinedly out of the pages of another one of this year’s reading highlights. And again, it seems it was a great year for titles, too … this one stirs my blood!

  49. A Choosing – Selected Poems
    Liz Lochhead
    2011

    50. This collection was a thoughtful gift from a silent book club friend.

  50. Hologram
    P.K. Page
    1994

    51. So thrilled to find this treasure in a used bookstore …

  51. Deaf Republic
    Ilya Kaminsky
    2019

    52. “Air empties, but for the squeak of strings and the tap tap of wooden fists against the walls.”
    And Yet, on Some Nights by Ilya Kaminsky from Deaf Republic

    Unnerving, astounding, incredibly moving …

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  52. In My Own Moccasins – A Memoir of Resilience
    Helen Knott
    2019
  53. Say Nothing – A True Story of Murder and Memory in Northern Ireland
    Patrick Radden Keefe
    2019
    (read aloud)

    54. Patrick Radden Keefe has crafted an absorbing and compelling combination detective story and oral history out of one of the most heartrending of the unsolved murders during the Troubles in Northern Ireland. This was absolutely amazing to read aloud, too.

    View this post on Instagram

    While he makes delicious things, I read aloud.

    A post shared by Vicki Ziegler (@vzbookgaga) on

  54. Ducks, Newburyport
    Lucy Ellmann
    2019

    55. Ducks, Newburyport by Lucy Ellmann was not only the reading experience of the year for me, but it will remain as one of the most indelible of my life as a reader, I predict. The 1,000-page one-sentence tome capturing the rambling thoughts of a nervous pie-making mother and homemaker in contemporary Ohio could be dismissed and avoided on so many grounds, perhaps, but it is not to be missed. As she runs the gamut from recipes and grocery lists to concerns for her four children, love for her second husband, memories of her mother and other family members, anger and fear at the state of her home and nation under the odious shadow of Trump … and more … and more … and more … her voice doesn’t just remain in your head, it sinks into you at a cellular level. How her life seemingly inexplicably intertwines with that of a mountain lion tirelessly seeking the children that have been taken away from her turns the last pages of the book into a suspenseful ride that is almost unbearable … but by then, you simultaneously do not want it to end.

    Even with its heft and awkwardness, I couldn’t help taking it everywhere with me … which means I’ll associate it with reading on the subway, in bed, at the cottage, at the blood donor clinic … and being utterly absorbed and entranced, no matter where I was.

  55. Mobile
    Tanis MacDonald
    2019

    56. “By the Don, beneath the bridge, gargoyles brought to earth, scale-model dragons and angels of revisionist history, beasts of Bay Street brought low and eye to eye with ideology and staghorn sumac …” Jane and the Monsters for Beauty, Permanence, and Individuality by Tanis MacDonald from Mobile

    Who better than a poet to orchestrate uncommon magic on a gray Saturday morning in the heart of noisy #Toronto? Read the whole story here.

  56. I Am Sovereign
    Nicola Barker
    2019

    57. A new Nicola Barker is always cause for celebration, at least by this reader. This novella is signature Barker brilliance, and another step in her experimentation with breaking down the walls between characters, reader and writer. Utterly fascinating!

    This captures, by the way, one of my favourite places and times of the day to read – breakfast on a working weekday, after I’ve done my initial check-in for email and work-related social media updates and have my working day mapped out.

  57. The Man Who Saw Everything
    Deborah Levy
    2019

    58. Deborah Levy’s interview with Eleanor Wachtel in November at Revival Bar was peculiar and strangely recalcitrant, but Wachtel’s team ably edited it for broadcast. I love Levy’s work, so I tried to block out the odd interview behaviour as I read The Man Who Saw Everything and enjoyed it immensely. It’s the sort of book that I suspect I will go back to and glean different gems of insight with each reread.

  58. Renaissance Normcore
    Adele Barclay
    2019
  59. My Father, Fortune-tellers & Me
    Eufemia Fantetti
    2019
  60. Night Boat to Tangier
    Kevin Barry
    2019

    61. Kevin Barry offered a lively reading and generous insights to interviewer Charles Foran at the Toronto Public Library in September, still fresh in my mind when I read and was utterly enthralled with the book in November.

  61. Good to a Fault
    Marina Endicott
    2008

    62. One of three rereads this year, Marina Endicott’s Good to a Fault has been calling to me for a while, and I’m so glad I heeded the call. This was a wonderful, affecting revisit.

  62. Crow Gulch
    Douglas Walbourne-Gough
    2019

    63. “All this hard living just to stay alive.
    Nice to escape, though. This feather bed.
    Dream up whatever life you want.”
    Escape by Douglas Walbourne-Gough from Crow Gulch

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  63. Something to Write Home About
    Seamus Heaney
    1998

    64. Such a lovely Christmas present …

  64. Alias Grace
    Margaret Atwood
    1996

    65. Another of three rereads this year, a final silent book club meeting during the holiday season helped me to finish this hefty but absorbing read. I was inspired to reread it after binge watching the superbly realized mini-series of the book. The first time I read this book (the book was published in 1996 and I first read it in 2003), Margaret Atwood’s voice was the narrator in my head. This time, Sarah Gadon as Grace was the voice.

  65. Worry
    Jessica Westhead
    2019

In 2019, I read a total of 65 works, a considerable leap from my challenging 2018 reading year:

  • 33 works of fiction (novels and short story collections) – the exact same as my 2018 total
  • 21 poetry collections and
  • 11 works of non-fiction.

I reread 3 books, read 3 works in translation, read one graphic work (interestingly, not a novel but non-fiction) and read 36 works by Canadian authors (again, surprisingly, the exact same as my 2018 total). My husband and I read 3 books aloud to each other this year and have another one in progress as we greet the new year.

I also kept track again this year of the publication dates of the books I read. In 2019, the oldest book I read was published in 1847 (Wuthering Heights, which was also a read-aloud book and, oh my, quite the rereading experience), and I also read a number of books published in the 1990s, further fulfilling last year’s intention to read or reread some more older books (a yearly practice I intend to keep up). More than half of the books I read this year were published in 2018 or 2019.

Currently in progress, heading into 2020:

  • Grand Union
    by Zadie Smith

  • Arias
    by Sharon Olds

  • I’ll Take You There: Mavis Staples, the Staple Singers, and the March up Freedom’s Highway
    by Greg Kot
    (reading aloud, with gusto!)

For yet another year, I’m looking back fondly and with great satisfaction on my 2019 reading and looking forward eagerly to where my 2020 reading will take me. I’m grateful to the writers, publishers, reviewers and fellow readers who have spurred on and broadened my reading. I’m thankful for the bounty of beautiful words that came to me via so many conduits, evoking such an array of ideas, trains of thought, memories and associations, providing so much off the page, too, from solace and companionship to challenges and even healthy discontent.

I’ll simply conclude (as I always do) …

It’s not how many you read that counts. It’s that you read that counts.