Tag Archives: samantha harvey

January in Review — Lit Chat Vol. 23

Hi friends,

At the first Reading Club meeting of 2025 a few weeks ago, I asked everyone to come ready to chat about their reading goals for the year. These included setting and reaching a Goodreads goal, reading more widely in specific genres, using the library more, and falling back in love with reading. It was delightful and inspiring.

I asked because one of my goals for 2025 is to be more intentional about what I read. I’ve always been more of a vibey reader, choosing whatever sounds good to me in the moment based on the weather, whatever else is going on in my life, or what people on the Internet are talking about. This year, though, I’m trying to treat my reading as part of a self-imposed curriculum, of sorts. A soft syllabus, if you will. As such, some of my reading goals for the year are:

• read 6 poetry collections
• read 6 short story collections
• read 6 craft/writing books
• read 4 books in translation
• read Emily Wilson’s translation of The Iliad, which I bought last year in gorgeous expensive hardcover because it was signed and gorgeous
• read In Search of Lost Time (Proust book club, anyone??? serious inquiries only)

Last year, I read 53 books. So if I hit all of these, that’s about half of my average annual reading, which means there’s still plenty of time left for vibes. I’m hoping that being more intentional about mixing up my reading from my typical diet of contemporary fiction will add more depth and breadth to my intellectual life and help me to be a more well-rounded reader, writer, and thinker.

January was a strong start, and I’ve already crossed two books off my soft syllabus! Before we dive in, a reminder as always that you can get this directly in your inbox by subscribing to my Substack.

Okay moving on! Let’s take a look at January:

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THE FOUNDATION:

The Hobbit — J.R.R. Tolkien, narrated by Nicol Williamson

Phillip found a retired library copy of The Hobbit on vinyl a few years ago, which is an abridged version from 1974 narrated by British actor Nicol Williamson. We put this on while working on a 3,000 piece puzzle of a fantasy scene over the long weekend, and honestly, it slapped. In lieu of a Bookshop page, I’ve linked to the first hour on YouTube.

Williamson’s narration was accompanied by a score of medieval-inspired music, which perfectly complemented our heroes’ journey and all the quirky little voices he did for each character. I’d read the full-length book as a kid and remembered very little, so this abridged version was perfect for hitting the highlights while my brain stayed busy doing something crafty. 10/10 a lovely way to spend a long weekend.

A Court of Silver Flames — Sarah J. Maas

At this point, I’ve accepted the fact that I will most likely devour all of Maas’s books within the next year or so. While not my favorite of the ACOTAR series, I came to appreciate the change in perspective for this latest installment: told from Nesta’s POV instead of Feyre’s, ACOSF centers Nesta working through her trauma from the war with Hybern by training her body and mind. This is definitely the smuttiest book of the series, which would be totally fine if it weren’t almost 800 (!!) pages. Like, girl, at a certain point (past 300 pages), we simply need to get out of bed and go fight the evil queen for the sake of moving this damn plot along. I should note that this lack of momentum did not keep me from devouring all ~800 pages—for the plot, obviously.

Conclave — Robert Harris

This was another audiobook I listened to while working on the giant puzzle (I got AirPods for Christmas and am into audiobooks again, in case you were wondering), and I found it surprisingly riveting! I have not yet seen the movie, but from what I’ve heard, it’s more or less a faithful adaptation (pun absolutely intended). Having been raised Catholic, there will always be a part of me that finds the mystery and pageantry of the Vatican absolutely fascinating, and what better environment to put it on display than the papal conclave? It’s the perfect microcosm for examining the mortal experiences of ambition, doubt, and faith under one divine and historic roof. Like everyone, I have some thoughts on the ending, but all in all, would recommend listening as a backdrop to another manual project like a puzzle or folding laundry.

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SOLID SUPPORTS:

The Writing Life — Annie Dillard

Kicking off my 2025 goal to read more craft books, I started the year with The Writing Life, which was a gift from my sweet friend El. I think I come to every book about writing with a secret hope that I will find all the answers to all my problems inside, which is never the case but it is always a step in the right direction. I was actually introduced to Dillard not through her own writing, but through a chapter in Alexander Chee’s How to Write an Autobiographical Novel, in which he recounts being one of her students at Wesleyan University.

Dillard comes across just as sharp, funny, and wise in her own book as she does in Chee’s memory. The Writing Life is both prescriptive and illustrative: she not only delivers the essentials of living a writerly life—e.g., the importance of carving out time and space for your work every day, and of not hoarding your best material for later—but also uses her own routines and experiences as an example. This book has found a place on my esteemed over-the-desk bookshelf of favorites, and I’m inclined to follow in El’s footsteps and pick up the next copy I see out in the world so I have an extra on hand to give to a friend who needs it.

Wednesday’s Child — Yiyun Li

Another gift, and another story collection to cross off my 2025 list! Wednesday’s Child was a holiday gift from the lovely Nina, after I mentioned how much I’d enjoyed Li’s 2022 novel, The Book of Goose. The stories from this collection were sourced from over a decade of published short fiction, all of which center Asian or Asian-American main characters grappling with themes of love and loss, the passage of time, and the conflicting desires of wanting to live a memorable life versus a life that leaves no trace. One poignant, recurring subject was grief over the death of a child by suicide, which I learned later is something that Li has tragically experienced firsthand.

Knowing that this collection draws from over a decade of writing made the recurring themes that much more striking, as a testimony to the emotions that cut a writer deeply enough to want to continue exploring them through multiple different characters and situations throughout her life. The significant absences and the lingering impact of past decisions color the way the stories are both written and received; even when they’re not the main focus, you feel their impact in the intensity of brief, tender moments that burst through the characters’ otherwise unsentimental lives. Li also has a knack for writing last lines that hit you right in the gut, ensuring you stay thinking about even the shortest stories for long after you’ve finished.

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THE TIPPY TOP:

Orbital — Samantha Harvey

Gorgeous cover aside, I found this book’s depiction of astronauts orbiting the Earth just as mesmerizing as their descriptions of looking down at our planet from two hundred and fifty miles into space. Orbital profiles six astronauts from all over the world, living and working on the International Space Station. In one of their waking days, they orbit the Earth sixteen times, which poses fascinating questions about the passage of time and the distance between themselves and the lives they left behind. During their time in space, the characters grieve family members and relationships, monitor the growth of a major storm system, struggle to maintain communications with loved ones and the outside world, and make discoveries about what the human body and mind can withstand when so far removed from everything that gives our lives a sense of normalcy, comfort, and belonging.

One of my longer-running childhood aspirations was to become an astronaut (somehow, that was my takeaway from Apollo 13??). Though this book made it abundantly clear that I could never have hacked it from a physical standpoint, if not a scientific one, there was still a tiny part of me that felt, well, jealous. It’s a little devastating to be reminded that I will most likely never experience this level of objectively awe-inspiring beauty, peace, and perspective in my lifetime, even though I have no desire to leave my friends, family, and all my earthly comforts behind for nine months at a time.

And yet, Harvey—notably, not an astronaut—conveys the emotional truth of this experience in a way that makes the unreachability of life in space accessible and unforgettable, by grounding the astronauts’ days in the physical sensations of their bodies, their familiar hungers and dreams. What struck me above all was each character’s deep gratitude and appreciation for being there, how once acclimated, they find themselves almost unable to imagine a life outside of the Space Station, in all its strangeness. This book was a special reminder of why we read: to vicariously experience what we will never experience for ourselves in this life. To watch through someone else’s eyes as the world moves from light into darkness and back into light again, all the other trivialities of humanity falling away, and to come away from this journey with extra gratitude for the lives we do lead.

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That’s a wrap on January! Do you have any reading goals for the year? Any recommendations for short story or poetry collections to cross off my list? If you do, I’d love to hear it! And if you’re interested in joining us IRL for the next Reading Club meeting in March, let me know and I’ll add you to the email list.

Until next time, happy reading!
❤ Catherine

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