In case you haven't noticed, I'm the bookish type, and I thought it would be fun this year to keep track of all of the books I've read.  In part so that I can look back and celebrate all the I've learned/indulged in for the year and also because it reflects my January lesson of honoring what makes me feel at home with myself.  

Books do that.  

I swoon over books.  Heavy duty history to heart palpitating romances that leave me wondering what my grandmother would say; I love them all.  It's absurd to most people, it seems, but I know, without a doubt that I am not alone in this.  

My only rules for myself are that I will share them all every few weeks or so starting today, and I will only post books that I've finished. 

Since the space between Solstice and New Years is like zero time to me, and since Solstice marks the New Year more for me now than the calendar, I'm including the books I've read from then on.  
As you can see I'm using Goodreads to keep track of my reads for the year.  I just received Little City by the Lake in the mail yesterday (via, and being a children's book it was a quick read.  As so many girls do, I loved and still love Laura Ingalls Wilder, who was a saint as far as I'm concerned.  The generations stories came out after I was grown, but once I learned of them I set out to collect all that I could--picking them up here and there at garage sales, on the swap cite, and at library sales.  The Caroline years are probably my favorite, although they're all delightful and sweet little reads.  

I love children's books.  It's the genre in which the truths of life are told most simply, and I have never grown out of my love for simple truth.  It's like healing balm for the soul.  

Then again, there are the days when I want nothing more than to race through a romance novel.  A few years ago I used to insist that I'd never, not ever be a romance novel reader (I'll call it my snooty phase).  Don't get me wrong, I love a good classic, but you can only read so much Dickens before you need to lighten the bleakness with the story of the perfect man falling for the imperfect woman and watch their relationship build a strong foundation of good sex and....good sex.  I blame Barbara Bretton for my downfall.  She can write a deceptively good story around her mad hot love scenes.  It all started with the Sugar Maple Chronicles last year.  I know it doesn't seem very feminist or moral or intelligent of me, but roll with me here.  There are many things I am not and perfect is one of them.  

Anyway, here's to a beautiful year of reading and to honoring what makes us feel at home with ourselves!  

If you'd like to, find me on Goodreads, make a 2013 reads list for you and we can honor the way we care for ourselves through the page together.  


10/03/2013 5:42pm

Lovely blog, thanks for posting.


Leave a Reply

Little Hearth