Earlier in January, I wrote about how the reading year turned for me, which books I’d finished as part of 2023 and how I was thinking about…well, mostly about what I’d not read, rather than what I had read. And how I was content to readopt the 2023 plans that I set aside early in the year. (Here’s a detailed look at 2023’s reading, ICYMI.)

Another Run at the Backlist

Other than my Middlemarch reread, I read towards my other 2023 goals, finished more than half of them and enjoyed some of those books very much; only a couple dragged and had me questioning my choices! But I still noticed that almost half my reading, in a year when I’d wanted to prioritise backlists, was drawn from the current or previous year’s publications. So, I’ll take another run at that.

Mostly I was thinking about goals further in the past…what had been left unfinished? Not specific book or author goals—those rise and fall for me—but the kind of goals that require consistent tending.

Another Run at Year-Long Projects

What of the books I’d planned to read over time, but my plans didn’t hold. Sometimes these were long books, the kind you need to absorb slowly, but I was reading a library copy recalled by another borrower. Sometimes I simply lost focus. Sometimes I felt intimidated and didn’t stick with it long enough to gain confidence. Sometimes I changed my mind. Sometimes I loaned out the books, like my Emily Carr omnibus and biography.

These suspended year-long reads haven’t been bothering me because I’ve completed lots of other year-long projects along the way. I’ve returned and refetched library books for innumerable borrowings. I’ve read aloud to get through tough chapters or authors. I’ve studied up, to make sense of something that baffled me. I repurchased copies of books long-ago lost, even sometimes peculiar older editions that were harder to find.

But those projects I did not finish remain appealing to me, years later: they had endured.

What Sticks, What Stays

And I have good reason to believe I’ll complete them. Even in a year when I had to set aside some reading goals early, I had great success with a project established late in the year, and that’s what got me thinking about we can choose to revisit projects left behind.

This late-year readolution, about making more time for magazines, is extending into 2024 as well. I’m setting aside some favourite articles to share later, but it’s no exaggeration to say that this is the reading I’ve found most exciting in recent weeks.

Magazines

The first step in figuring out why I’m so good at subscribing to them and so terrible at reading them was to gather them all together. This is hard because it reveals the true dimensions of good and terrible: faced with this, I can’t deny something’s gone awry. (Some are weekly with a newspaper!) I’ve had a lot of thoughts about this along the way but, once I started to carry magazines around with my stack of books, after awhile I began to read them. Soon, when I sat down to read, a magazine was the first item I chose. Frequently I would return to it (or another, on a different topic) as a transition between books.

When I found myself making conversations about reading, it was often inspired by the magazines. Maybe because I chose to start with the newest arrivals, so they felt topical, and perhaps that won’t always be the case, as I work my way into the stack. But it’s been such a joy to root this habit. And another advantage to keeping them current, is that they’ll still feel relevant to their next readers when I pass them along (only a couple of subscriptions do I keep, with the idea that I’ll reread…of course, I don’t, because I’m eleventy-billion years behind).

Slowly, Surely

Throughout January, I’ve been reading small segments of books that take extra focus for me: Ruth Padel’s 52 Ways of Looking at a Poem, Ibram X. Kendi’s Stamped from the Beginning, Michel Tremblay’s Mont-Royal series, and Octavia Butler’s Parable of the Sower (a reread, but when I first read it, I’d intended to listen to Octavia’s Parables alongside, and I read ahead). They’re such different books that I am nearly always in the mood to spend time with one of them. And each is so rich, in its own way, that I find myself wandering into other literary territory, investigating and pondering.

In a more structured way, I’m rereading Lorna Sage’s Moments of Truth, which features essays about books by twelve twentieth-century, writing women; I read it in 2001 when it was new, but scantily, because I’d not read many of the books she writes about (I’ve been spoilerphobic for a long time). So, is that rereading? Either way, I’m planning to spread this over two years, reading the essay and perhaps rereading a book in one month and, then, the next month reading a different book by the author.

That’s why Edith Wharton’s The Reef is in my stack, after having read about The Custom in the Country and Ethan Frome in Sage’s first essay in January. (They’re both good enough to reread, but I didn’t.) In March, I’m planning to read the essay on The Voyage Out (which I did reread once, for a bookclub, and that’s good enough for me) and in April I’ll read The Years and Between the Acts, the only two Woolfs left in my previously-abandoned Woolf project.

And I’m reading the 2024 Best Canadian Poetry, Essay, and Story collections published annually by Biblioasis (one of my favourite indie presses). I’ve always wanted to read collections like these when they’re current, but admittedly it felt like more of a practical project than a passion project. So, I’ve been surprised to find myself truly enjoying the variety of styles and voices, themes and intentions. The very aspect that most concerned me—the sense of each piece being too distinct—has been what’s maintained my curiosity. I’ll have more to say about these later this month, but it seems as though they’ll last for maybe only a third of the year. Maybe I’ll read some older “annuals” after that.

Classic Short Stories 

With Rebecca and Mel, I’m rereading The Collected Stories of Carol Shields. Rebecca has written about the first section of stories and Mel has written about the first three stories: “Segue”, “Various Miracles” (the title story of her first collection) and “Mrs. Turner Cutting the Grass”.

Shields is a key author for me (and the source of the BuriedInPrint tagline) and I’ve read some of these stories several times but still find new details and discoveries. A couple of their endings really moved me, as though I was reading freshly, but different themes were more prominent this time. We are all reading at our own pace and enjoying the idea of sharing in the Shields experience. If you want to join, please do.

Mel and I are reading Jean Stafford and Nancy Hale this year too. He’s already posted about both writers and is the reason I purchased their collections. Most recently, he’s written about Stafford’s “The Children’s Game” and Hale’s “How Would You Like to Be Born”.

Last year I read 25 collections, but mostly by emerging writers; collections like these, and some by Ozick, Walser and Zweig fit with my backlist plans for 2023. Often Collected Stories are physically uncomfortable to hold and transport. My copy of Jean Stafford’s stories is old but has never been read, so every time I turn a page, it snaps free of the binding. At this rate, I’ll end up with pocket copies of all her stories! But this is their year!

Finding a Balance

In some ways, my reading goals for this year are in conflict. I want to continue to read books that have been gifted and recommended (which are usually newer) in a year when I want to focus on backlist reading. But in other ways, my goals are well-matched, in that while I’m reading older books I’ll be reading newer writing in magazines, and here it seems complementary rather than conflicting.

In past years, I’ve started my readolutions slow and written about them more promptly. This year I’m writing about them later, but they’re well-established. I started reading (and listening) towards them on the first day of 2024 and it’s been such a great blend so far, that I’m tempted to add a couple more. Stop me now!

And speaking of butting in, please do. Let me know if any of this planning overlaps with your plans, or if you’d like to join, or if one of your projects wasn’t mentioned but could overlap with my more general backlist ideas for the year. If there’s a book you absolutely loved in 2023, that you think I should add to my recommended titles list for 2024, share that too!

Bookish Community

There are other single books in my sights for this year; I’m pulling from my own shelves whenever possible to join Bill in his African reading this year, enjoying the idea of Margaret Drabble with Ali, looking forward to rereading Fannie Flagg with Emma in the summer, and I’ve even got an essay or two in mind for Brona’s Orwell project.

There’s #1937Club (March 15-24) with Kaggsy and Simon and, from completely different years, I’d like to read The Tin Drum, Catch-22, and the second volume in dos Passos’s U.S.A. trilogy to fill some classic gaps. Also, the UKLG Fiction Prize—Bill and I will read something from a previous year in June-ish, to coincide with the longlist announcement in July-ish. And my enduring interest in various CanLit prizes, as well as the new-ish Carol Shields Prize, and the returning Women’s Fiction Prize, will undoubtedly bring other reading into my stacks.

Bookchatting

Everyone who contributes here has impacted my reading one way or another, and I’m very thankful for all of our bookish conversations.

I’ve probably already commented on your 2024 reading plans page–it’s February, I know–but if I missed it, please feel free to share your link below. Having my feed reader inactive for six months last year caused some subscriptions to lapse, and maybe we’ve missed one another.

And, if you don’t have a blog or don’t share your reading plans online, you’re welcome to comment here instead.

Here’s to a very fine 2024!