SEE YOU ON BOXING DAY!

Another #Booksgiving done and dusted. I hope at least a few reviews piqued your interest in a title you wouldn't otherwise have heard of.

It feels good to be able to write to a few readers, hopeful feelings stir when I see signs of folk checking in to see what's on offer. Writing hundreds of reviews in 2025 has kept me sane, prevented me from falling into a pit of despair as the world changes around us all in ways I hate and must (to keep faith with my moral beliefs) resist in the only ways I can.

Thanks for reading, and I do not mean just my words...thanks for being a reader. It matters how you get your stories delivered. It matters that you develop the habit of getting your stories in more than one way, from more than one source. Your choices matter. Don't lose sight of that fact in the days, weeks, months, and years you'll be told that they do not matter. No one bothers to insist that something truly irrelevant and unimportant does not matter. It's the same kind of high-control social engineering as making rules against actions and beliefs. No one ever tells you not to do something unimportant, or bad for you, unless they mean it's bad for them in some way. (Safety is never the real reason for warning labels, it's to prevent you from being able to sue them.)

Well, that turned dark. Let's sweeten the tone: I found an excellent six-stars-of-five read for 2025 in THE REMEMBERED SOLDIER by ANJET DAANJE, and translated from Flemish by David McKay via the estimable tastemakers at New Vessel Press. My review should say it all about the layered, subtle evocation of memory's centrality to identity, about the effort love takes, about the nature of desire and its propulsive projective power. It's the kind of (long!) read that I want to put in peoples' hands to explain themselves to themselves.

Support an excellent indie press! It is a New York Times 100 Notable Books designee, it was a finalist for the National Book Award for Translated Fiction, on lists from Publishers Weekly and LitHub and the Wall Street Journal...it deserves the patient companionship and compassion of readers seeking a window into forming, discovering identity through its loss and rebuilding...trauma does not have to be war, you know. The world can, and does, do similar things to us callously and carelessly in the course of Life. Buy one, tree book or ebook, ask your library for one so they'll know people want it, get on their wait list for it, or get one via their ILL program. It is a good, impactful story told the best way a story can be: carefully, caringly, with the cares and the needs of characters and readers in its sights.

Some stories go beyond a solid idea and a good execution, beyond even a lucky meeting of idea and author. A few other books were truly extraordinarily good in my 2025 reading. I enjoyed my Jess Zafarris reads the most of any in October, Words from Hell: Unearthing the Darkest Secrets of English Etymology and Useless Etymology: Offbeat Word Origins for Curious Minds were each separately delightful...read together I was giggling and snorting my way through the month. "Rantallion" is my new favorite weird word to unleash on the unsuspecting. Jess and Rob's video podcast, Words Unravelled on YouTube, is a must listen every week.

August was, as always, Women In Translation Month (#WITMonth); as usual it was a solid month of pleasure reads. Funny way for me to say it, though, because it was the month of Fang Fang's Soft Burial, anything but a "pleasant" read...the true nature of memory seemed to be my August accidental theme. It's memory's loss that clues us in to the centrality of memory to identity, to selfhood; I got that from a male perspective in The Remembered Soldier and a female one in this read. Dementia is a better guide to the effects than is the soap-opera stuff we're trained to think of. It's brutal, devastating; it's happened to many for no causal action on their own part, and that's the worst, cruelest, most repugnant part.

Back in June, the most satisfying read I had was The Surge, Adam Kovac's war story via Tortoise Books. It's told in laconic warrior-appropriate prose. It exemplifies an experience I do not think soldiers will ever have again as AI and automation turn war into a weirdly impersonal industrial slaughterhouse...as we're seeing in this year's oil war they're starting in Venezuela. Moving on...May brought a lovely, up-buoying quality via Forest Euphoria: The Abounding Queerness of Nature that made it my beacon-of-sanity read. This book was genuinely smile-granting. I hope it will go on to become a standard text in biology classes (once sanity is restored and we start teaching again).

In April, a good month for reading, I read my first merman/man romance, When the Tides Held the Moon, amusing enough if...well...silly. Laurent Binet's superb Perspective(s) elevated my mood. Not so elevating was Sad Tiger, likely the most important book I read, possibly in all of 2025, for what it has accomplished in the world with the conversation around incest and assault it has started.

I liked The Case of Cem best of March's reads because it made polyphony its most interesting point through the device of a court case in the Afterlife. More Earthly and still legally based was the utterly infuriating The Man Nobody Killed, the latest from Elon Green. What an enraging travesty of justice! I still boil up over it. In a translation-heavy year of reading, an early delight was the extraordinary Río Muerto, my first all-five-stars read of 2025, by Ricardo Silva Romero and translated from Spanish by the gifted Victor Meadowcroft. Voiceless narrators don't come better than this; many language-choice delights in its pages. My January best-quality read, Fire Exit by Morgan Talty, was this Native American talent's first-ever novel. Aaalmost all five stars from me, and happy to give them I was!

I began 2025 deeply unhappy and very, very scared. I'm ending it much the same, but with the perspective that there's always, always the heartening world of literary imagination to grant a different view to a reader. In writing reviews of books I've read over the past ten-plus years, I've learned that I am a creature of deep greed, insatiable hunger, for that magic of storytelling: the gift of perspective.

I have never in my life been more grateful to be a reader than I am right now.