Kaggsy’s and Lizzy’s fifth annual celebration of Indie publishers in the UK is a regular reminder to celebrate the independent voices in this industry. All month, I’ve been reading with this event in mind, and I am finishing just in time to contribute. (My first post was here. The
Just yesterday I was commenting to a friend that my reading of late has felt rather disheartening. Some beautiful writing, and vitally important stories, but it was taking a toll. It reminded me that there’s been other reading in my stacks in recent weeks that could serve to balance.
When I think about novellas I’ve enjoyed this year, I recall Poulomi Sanyal’s Colour Me Confounded (2017) and Kerry Trautman’s Irregulars (2023), their settings soaked with the ambiance of their main characters’ workplaces, whether a boardroom or a diner. And I think about Helen deWitt’s The English Understand Wool
Sometimes summer is a slow reading time for me, but this year? The opposite! The stacks were swelling in May and June, and every flat surface was cluttered with books begun-but-unfinished, and I didn’t have a chance to think about what else I might do…so, I read.
Past the mid-point of the reading year, I notice that there are some books I finished reading some time ago, lingering. Just, around. Left in innocuous places as though I just finished reading them there. Finally, when I found a place for Khadija Abdalla Bajaber’s novel (on the shelf
