By the look of it, my reads so far for 2024 seem to be a bit random. I’m never happy reading strictly in one genre. I’m a very mood-based reader, so I could be feeling spine-tingling suburban thriller one week and quirky, small-town romance the next. When I was choosing my first book of the year, I had just gotten my first tattoo: a tipped-over wine glass on my forearm beneath my wrist. I got it with a couple of my friends and it made me eager to get my next tattoo, the tattoo I always thought would be my first if I ever worked up the nerve to do it. In my 20s, after reading The Sun Also Rises by Ernest Hemingway for the first time, I got the idea to get my favorite line from the book tattooed somewhere on my person. Thinking about this made me reminiscent for the story, and that is how I found myself revisiting the book in early January.
But once I got through it, I felt so spent by Hemingway’s prose. I love his writing, though rereading TSAR in my 30s was a different experience than reading it in my 20s. Where I empathized with Jake and Brett during my first read, I found them completely insufferable during my second. It’s absolutely fair to say that I read this book through rose-colored glasses in my 20s. I romanticized their lives to a degree that I think I found them somewhat enviable. However, reading this book in my 30s revealed just how sad and miserable everyone felt and why they behaved so badly as a result. It bummed me out much more than I anticipated. When I finally finished reading it again, I felt a huge weight off my shoulders. It’s not a long book, but between Hemingway’s brusque and stoic writing style and the characters’ insurmountable dramas, it is an emotionally heavy read. I definitely felt like I’d earned that last line by the time I read it.
Given the emotional toll from reading TSAR, I needed something a little fluffier to read next. I wanted a happy ending. That was how I found myself in the mood for a romantic story, and after some hemming and hawing in front of my bookshelf, I finally landed on Yours Truly by Abby Jimenez. And boy was I rewarded by the literary gods for sticking it out with Hemingway, because AJ had me HOOKED. Certainly, these characters had their own drama. But where Hemingway’s writing style was more than a bit morose, AJ’s was endearing and relatable. She tugged at my heartstrings, sure, but she gave me characters I could root for. I think part of the problem going into the TSAR was that I had read it before, I knew what I was going to get, and I sadly did not feel the same magic rereading this book as I have in rereading other past favorites. I don’t think it’s because the book isn’t good. I think TSAR is a magnificent book. I’ve just changed. Which is why I found myself engrossed in all the typical romance tropes that AJ served me on her little book platter. Did Briana and Jacob’s drama give me anxiety? Yes. Did their lack of communication frustrate me? Yes. Was there a heartwarmingly satisfying payoff in the end? Yes. I LOVED the premise of them hiding letters for each other at work, of a mild enemies to lovers trope, and after such a rough start to the 2020s, I’ve just become a person who needs the happy ending, damn it. I used to not care about this so much. I used to relish when books ended a little untidy. And, okay, I still do. I think it just hits me differently because I’ve been through some shit. We all have.
Which is why I up and decided to return to more literary fare and read a little gem of a book called Glaciers by Alexis M. Smith next. The story spans one day and a lifetime of emotions. Because reading romance can sometimes feel like eating candy or ice cream or slightly warmed, ooey-gooey cookie dough. It’s so, so good, but then you need to cut it with something savory. I don’t know much about Ms. Smith. Unlike with Hemingway or Abby Jimenez, hers isn’t a name I see zipping around the internet very much in my bookish web searches. I believe I found this book in a Barnes & Noble newsletter. Intrigued by the cover, I clicked through to their website and started perusing the product page. What made me add-to-cart and then actually pay for it was the utter lack of description. They gave me just enough to pique my curiosity. I didn’t know what to expect, but I flipped the final page with a feeling of kinship. I felt like I was reading about a dear friend or an ideal version of myself from an alternate universe. It was a stoic but touching read with reflective metaphors and nostalgic imagery.
It put me in just the right mood to read my friend, Ashley Logan’s, new collection of poetry, The World Goes Down Slow. For who constructs metaphor and imagery quite like a poet? You do not have to know her personally to feel gut struck by her writing, as I did. What I loved about this book was how indulgent she was in her poems—indulging her thoughts and feelings and experiences in ways that are often hard to allow. I felt that was a major point of the collection overall: taking ownership. I think knowing Ashley and being a part of her life helps me appreciate these things and see the tapestry of her story with a unique perspective, but these are all elements that are deeply ingrained in her poems. Like I said before, you don’t need to know her personally to feel the reverence of her experiences. I could feel the tension of her writing pushing up against her fears, trekking forward regardless.
That may be what drew me to The Quarry Girls by Jess Lourey. By all rights, a story about girls who must strangle their fears lest their fears strangle them. I wrote about this book a few weeks ago. It is a stark reminder to always be on your guard. I know that sounds dramatic or aggressive or paranoid. Perhaps it is all these things. But stranger things have happened than the fictional events that take place in this novel set in 1970s Minnesota. You do not have to be surrounded by serial killers to feel the quiet angst of danger. This is a story of innocence lost, yes, but this is also a story of perseverance and following your truth. Unfortunately, that sometimes sees us in situations we don’t want to be in, but have to find our way through regardless or risk not finding our way at all. It’s always a risk, though, isn’t it? That’s just life. When I read stories like this or listen to especially heinous episodes of a true crime podcast, I’m reminded that, despite what I want to believe about there being a reason for everything that happens, sometimes life is just a bitch. A random, nonsensical bitch.
And that’s why we read romance, folks. And how I decided my last read of the winter season would be Practice Makes Perfect by Sarah Adams. An adorable small-town romance about a sassy virgin whose matchmaking pop star best friend introduces her bodyguard as a solution to said friend’s dating woes. They have AHmazing chemistry, but of course spend an absurd amount of time fighting it and pretending like it doesn’t exist. Oh, the tension! Two people who are attracted to each other but refuse to be together?? My favorite trope! It’ll make you laugh, it’ll make your stomach do queasy somersaults, and if you’ve turned into a softie in your old age like me, it may even make you cry for no good reason. It was the perfect segue to spring.
I’m not 100% sure what I’m going to read next, though. I do have a copy of Meredith, Alone by Claire Alexander currently sitting on my nightstand, but I’m not fully committed to it yet. I’m taking a little break to gauge what piques my interest. I see myself reading more romance, or romance-adjacent, books during the warmer months. Now that I’m getting back into a better reading routine, my brain is chasing that dopamine high that comes from gratifying storylines, which romance is really good for, you know? So we’ll see. I’d also like to start Wolf Hall at some point this year, too, which I’m sure is a bloodbath and not at all romantic. Time will tell.
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Lauren Michelle Brock 