Tag Archives: 2020

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Reading Is Healing: My 2021 Book List

If you read my post from just after ringing in the new year, you know that my 2021 started with a melancholy tone. A dear friend was battling COVID-19, and I awoke to learn that his body had finally succumbed. He was the director of the community chorale of which I’ve been a member since the late 1990s. With coronavirus shutting down almost all things choral (because singers are considered super spreaders), all of our rehearsals and plans for performances stopped last March. Singing is one of my outlets, and I’ve been fortunate to be one of the few singers at my church most Sundays.

Fortunately, while singing is incredibly healing, it’s not my only outlet. I also love to read. Maybe that’s an understatement. I have to have something to read at all times—a healthy addiction?—and I also love to share what I read. (Which is why I started making this annual post however-many years ago.)

While 2020 took so much from everyone, it was a great year for me as far as reading goes. I read all the books from my 2020 book list, plus some. In fact, I re-read two different trilogies immediately after finishing them—sometimes it’s just hard to let books go. (Those trilogies are Lady Helen and His Fair Assassin. I read the first book of Lady Helen in 2019 but all the rest in 2020.)

Many of the other books on my list were ones that I read with my children. We finished A Series of Unfortunate Events, as planned. I also read The Hunger Games to them because they enjoy the movies, and Suzanne Collins recently published a prequel, The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes. We finished all of those about a week ago.

If you’re one of my regular readers, you know that my elder son is dyslexic. Even before his diagnosis, it was my habit to read my favorite children’s books to him. (Maybe it was crazy, but I read the Harry Potter books to both kids in utero.) We often read his school novels together, and the format of virtual school last spring was particularly challenging for him. His entire grade level broke into a handful of book clubs, and the book he chose (okay, that I encouraged him to choose because I wanted to read it to him anyway) was Lois Lowry’s The Giver. A dystopian novel before that was even a genre, The Giver was new when I was a kid. Since then, Lowry has published three sequels. We finished reading the quartet after the book club was finished, and Peter really enjoyed them.

Two or three years ago, I discovered Usborne’s graphic novel classics (including titles such as Hamlet, The Hound of the Baskervilles, Jason and the Argonauts, Alice in Wonderland, and many others). Graphic novels are a great way for people with reading difficulties to access literature because the drawings provide so many contextual clues. Each time I got one for Peter, he devoured it. It became his habit to read one every night before bed. I can’t tell you the joy I feel from my son finding enthusiasm for books. Plus, he’s being introduced to classic stories without the barrier of archaic language (which can prove onerous even for the most fluent of readers).

Still, there are plenty of great books that aren’t graphic novels. Peter loves historical fiction, especially of the World War II era, so that’s why Salt to the Sea and The Book Thief are on the 2020 list. (Salt to the Sea is centered around the greatest maritime disaster in history, regarding loss of life. And no, it wasn’t the Titanic or Lusitania—check it out!) After we finished these, since Usborne hadn’t released a new graphic novel in a while, my husband let Peter borrow Maus and Maus II, graphic novels about some of the events of World War II. When he finished those, something different and wonderful happened: Peter asked if we could recommend any other good books.

We decided that a good first on-his-own novel was Nicola Yoon’s Everything, Everything. This book has a unique style, including short chapters and drawings throughout. These would help break up the text, making it less daunting. Plus, the language isn’t that difficult, except for humuhumunukunukuapua’a—I have yet to make it from one end of that word to other without needing a nap in the middle. We gave it to Peter, and he devoured it. Every time he finished a chapter, he would tell us about it. A common trait of dyslexics is poor working memory. He’s had to learn study skills particular to his learning style, which allow him to suss out the main idea and decide which details are important. Summarizing what he’s read—and sometimes having in-depth discussions about it—is Peter’s strategy to aid his reading comprehension. After Everything, Everything, he asked for a book Thomas had told him about, Ernest Cline’s Ready Player One. It was a much more challenging read, but Peter made it through and now considers it his favorite book. (There’s a recently published sequel—hope it lives up to the first one!) He’s currently reading Stephen King’s The Green Mile. For his birthday and Christmas, we gave him more novels—Ender’s Game and Jurassic Park. Peter is excited to have his own growing collection, and on more than one occasion, he’s said, “Now I see why you and Dad read all the time.” After catching him staying up late to read more times than I can count (my favorite form of rebellion), he’s learned to look ahead and see how long a chapter is before getting started because he has to complete a chapter in order to fully process and remember it. I don’t care what it takes—this kid is making reading a priority and enjoying it.

Okay, Sarah, what does this have to do with books you read in 2020? Nothing at all. These are books I didn’t read—because Peter read them himself! And more books I didn’t read: Harry Potter. When we finished A Series of Unfortunate Events, that’s what Ian wanted to read, but when I noticed one of his classmates reading the series, I told Ian it was time to read them on his own. So that’s what he’s doing now, and I’m proud of him, too. It’s a real joy to see my boys reading on their own and loving it.

So without further ado, here is the complete list of novels I read in 2020, ordered chronologically. Titles in red are the books that I either read a second time or were not on the original list.

  1. Where the Crawdads Sing by Delia Owens
  2. The Wide Window (A Series of Unfortunate Events, Book the Third) by Lemony Snicket
  3. The Dark Days Pact (Lady Helen #2) by Alison Goodman
  4. The Miserable Mill (A Series of Unfortunate Events, Book the Fourth) by Lemony Snicket
  5. The Dark Days Deceit (Lady Helen #3) by Alison Goodman
  6. The Austere Academy (A Series of Unfortunate Events, Book the Fifth) by Lemony Snicket
  7. Salt to the Sea by Ruta Sepetys
  8. The Dark Days Club (Lady Helen #1) by Alison Goodman
  9. The Ersatz Elevator (A Series of Unfortunate Events, Book the Sixth) by Lemony Snicket
  10. The Dark Days Pact (Lady Helen #2) by Alison Goodman
  11. The Vile Village (A Series of Unfortunate Events, Book the Seventh) by Lemony Snicket
  12. The Dark Days Deceit (Lady Helen #3) by Alison Goodman
  13. The Hostile Hospital (A Series of Unfortunate Events, Book the Eighth) by Lemony Snicket
  14. Why We Broke Up by Daniel Handler
  15. The Carnivorous Carnival (A Series of Unfortunate Events, Book the Ninth) by Lemony Snicket
  16. Earth Unaware (The First Formic War #1) by Orson Scott Card
  17. The Slippery Slope (A Series of Unfortunate Events, Book the Tenth) by Lemony Snicket
  18. The Giver (The Giver #1) by Lois Lowry
  19. The Grim Grotto (A Series of Unfortunate Events, Book the Eleventh) by Lemony Snicket
  20. Earth Afire (The First Formic War #2) by Orson Scott Card
  21. Earth Awakens (The First Formic War #3) by Orson Scott Card
  22. The Penultimate Peril (A Series of Unfortunate Events, Book the Twelfth) by Lemony Snicket
  23. The Book Thief by Marcus Zusak
  24. The Starless Sea by Erin Morgenstern
  25. The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern
  26. The End (A Series of Unfortunate Events, Book the Thirteenth) by Lemony Snicket
  27. The Cuckoo’s Calling (Cormoran Strike #1) by Robert Galbraith
  28. Stormbreaker (Alex Rider #1) by Anthony Horowitz
  29. The Silkworm (Cormoran Strike #2) by Robert Galbraith
  30. Career of Evil (Cormoran Strike #3) by Robert Galbraith
  31. Lethal White (Cormoran Strike #4) by Robert Galbraith
  32. Gathering Blue (The Giver #2) by Lois Lowry
  33. Graceling (Graceling Realm #1) by Kristin Cashore
  34. Messenger (The Giver #3) by Lois Lowry
  35. Fire (Graceling Realm #2) by Kristin Cashore
  36. Bitterblue (Graceling Realm #3) by Kristin Cashore
  37. Grave Mercy (His Fair Assassin #1) by Robin LaFevers
  38. Dark Triumph (His Fair Assassin #2) by Robin LaFevers
  39. Mortal Heart (His Fair Assassin #3) by Robin LaFevers
  40. Son (The Giver #4) by Lois Lowry
  41. Grave Mercy (His Fair Assassin #1) by Robin LaFevers
  42. The Hunger Games (The Hunger Games #1) by Suzanne Collins
  43. Dark Triumph (His Fair Assassin #2) by Robin LaFevers
  44. Catching Fire (The Hunger Games #2) by Suzanne Collins
  45. Mortal Heart (His Fair Assassin #3) by Robin LaFevers
  46. Mockingjay (The Hunger Games #3) by Suzanne Collins
  47. The Tower of Nero (The Trials of Apollo #5) by Rick Riordan
  48. An Ember in the Ashes (An Ember in the Ashes #1) by Sabaa Tahir
  49. The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes (The Hunger Games #0) by Suzanne Collins
  50. A Torch Against the Night (An Ember in the Ashes #2) by Sabaa Tahir

As you can see, 22 of the 50 books I read were unplanned. While I was worried that some of them might derail me from reaching my goal, I don’t regret reading them. (Okay, one exception—Stormbreaker, a school book for Peter that neither of us enjoyed.) When I saw that Erin Morgenstern had a new book, I had to get it, and The Starless Sea might be the best book I’ve ever read. Unless it’s The Night Circus. Yikes, she needs to get busy and write a bunch more.

Woo-Hoo! New Books for 2021

Now for 2021. I’m excited that some of my favorite authors have penned new books, some adding to ongoing series. That’s why I’m re-reading An Ember in the Ashes, the fourth book of which was recently published and is on this year’s list. There’s also a fifth novel in the Robert Galbraith (J.K. Rowling) Cormoran Strike series. Since I just re-read the first three books over the summer in order for the story to be fresh for the new-to-me fourth book, I don’t need to re-read those. J.K Rowling also wrote a new book, The Ickabog, for families during the COVID lockdown. It was originally an online publication, and she held an illustration competition. The whole thing was published with beautiful color illustrations from the winners, and I just started reading it with my family today. A few chapters in, I’m reminded why Rowling is one of my favorite authors.

Other titles of interest: Christopher Paolini (author of the Eragon books) released a new book, unrelated to The Inheritance Cycle. I read S.J. Kincaid’s The Diabolic in 2019 and am finally collecting the other books in that trilogy. Years ago, my dad lent us the books from the Ender’s Game series, including spin-offs. I plan to finish those (one of which I just got for him for Christmas, so I’m going to have to borrow that when he’s done with it). I also plan to re-read Dune because—hello! Have you seen that they’re re-doing the movie? And of course, I need to have it fresh so I can get peeved every time the movie takes creative license. Actually, I have high hopes. Please don’t screw it up, new movie! (So when my dad reads this, please let me borrow Dune again, too.) There are other books I’ll re-read, since the list would be sparse, otherwise. (Hoping Diana Gabaldon publishes Outlander #9 in 2021 or early enough in 2022 that I won’t forget everything from the first eight books.) As always, I expect there will be a lot of red on here when I post what I read a year from now.

Until then, here’s my jumping off place (alpha by author):

  1. Six of Crows (Six of Crows #1) by Leigh Bardugo
  2. Crooked Kingdom (Six of Crows #2) by Leigh Bardugo
  3. Children of the Fleet (Fleet School #1) by Orson Scott Card
  4. The Swarm (The Second Formic War #1) by Orson Scott Card
  5. The Hive (The Second Formic War #2) by Orson Scott Card
  6. Ready Player One (Ready Player One #1) by Ernest Cline
  7. Ready Player Two (Ready Player One #2) by Ernest Cline
  8. Outlander (Outlander #1) by Diana Gabaldon
  9. Dragonfly in Amber (Outlander #2) by Diana Gabaldon
  10. Voyager (Outlander #3) by Diana Gabaldon
  11. Drums of Autumn (Outlander #4) by Diana Gabaldon
  12. The Fiery Cross (Outlander #5) by Diana Gabaldon
  13. A Breath of Snow and Ashes (Outlander #6) by Diana Gabaldon
  14. An Echo in the Bone (Outlander #7) by Diana Gabaldon
  15. Written in My Own Heart’s Blood (Outlander #8) by Diana Gabaldon
  16. Troubled Blood (Cormoran Strike #5) by Robert Galbraith
  17. Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen
  18. Dune (Dune Chronicles #1) by Frank Herbert
  19. The Diabolic (The Diabolic #1) by S.J. Kincaid
  20. The Empress (The Diabolic #2) by S.J. Kincaid
  21. The Nemesis (The Diabolic #3) by S.J. Kincaid
  22. To Sleep in a Sea of Stars by Christopher Paolini
  23. The Ickabog by J.K. Rowling
  24. A Reaper at the Gates (An Ember in the Ashes #3) by Sabaa Tahir
  25. A Sky Beyond the Storm (An Ember in the Ashes #4) by Sabaa Tahir

If you know of a book that I should add, please let me know in the comments—I’m always looking for recommendations! Good reading in 2021.

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It’s Okay to Leave Something in Your Inbox

Just so you know where my head is while I write this, I’m waiting for news that a very dear friend has passed from this world to the next. From COVID, of course. While I still plan to post my usual New Year’s book list, right now I’m feeling pretty somber. I certainly have a great deal of empathy for people who have already traveled this tough journey—or have yet to travel it.

Where to start? This time last year, we were celebrating the New Year with my husband’s parents and getting ready to embark on a three-day trip to Disney World with my parents. Other than some murmurs of a few cases of COVID from across the country, everything was status quo in Florida. Singing with the community chorale (the director of which is the good friend mentioned above). Church in the sanctuary with a full choir and no masks. In person piano lessons and a judged festival for my kids. Baseball practices—and my husband’s first opportunity ever to actually coach on one of the kids’ teams. School with all the kids in the classroom. Fill in the blank. At the chaperone meeting for my son’s school trip to Washington, D.C., someone asked if there was a contingency plan for a COVID outbreak (this was getting toward the end of February). We laughed it off. Within a few weeks, COVID had touched everyone in the country—whether it was because you or someone you knew had it, you found yourself suddenly having to open your own one-room schoolhouse in your kitchen, you lost your job or were furloughed, or you were busier than you’d ever been in your life because of your line of work. Most likely, you experienced a combination of the above with a few other morsels sprinkled in, like being cut off from loved ones in long-term care or having to drastically change wedding plans.

There have been times over the past year when I’ve felt like my life isn’t my own anymore, that I’m somehow living in limbo. “When all this is over” is the theme of the day. The problem is that when it is over (if it is), we’ll be so changed that we might not recognize our old lives. Will we ever be able to go places like the zoo on a whim, or will we forever be required to get a reservation in advance? And it’s not as if we get these months back, reclaim missed graduations and the births of grandbabies. It’s not as if loved ones will return to us. The hopelessness of this situation is enough to suck the life out of you if you’re not careful. And knowing that we’re all going through it in some capacity doesn’t really help much when you’re living it.

I don’t mean to paint a bleak picture of the whole year. 2020 was also a really productive—and often a good—year for me. Even though I haven’t posted many blogs, I’ve written more this year than I have since I went back to work full-time five years ago. I’ve read a lot of great books, too. I’ve seen both of my kids blossom in ways that they might not have in normal times because they’ve been forced to deal with situations beyond what we ever expected. And since we’re pretty much homebodies anyway, we’ve enjoyed much of our time at home together.

But there’s also that reminder—sometimes so far in the background that I almost miss it, sometimes so much in my face that I can hardly see anything else—that life is precious and fragile, and any one of us could go at any time. My family has faced sudden, tragic death on more occasions than I would wish on my worst enemy—and recently enough that my kids have experienced it, too. So why does it feel so different this year? I guess, in part, because many, many people have had COVID and survived. My husband even had a pretty bad exposure—and he didn’t get it. When you dodge a metaphorical bullet, you begin to feel bulletproof.

Since my friend’s downward spiral with COVID began, I have prayed harder for him and his family than I’ve ever prayed in my life. It truly has been a fight for his body, even now when he’s sedated. Every morning, the first thing I do is check my phone for an update, praying for a miracle. I’ve begged and pleaded with God, knowing that many other people have also begged and pleaded for the lives of their loved ones… to no avail. My prayer has been that he still has so much good he can do here, if only given the chance to live. Maybe I’m wrong, but I believe that when someone dies, God simultaneously welcomes a son or daughter home with joy, while also comforting those left to mourn. I just cannot believe (as ancient Greeks did, with their Fates) that our lives simply end when our Earthly work is done, whether that’s at birth or age 30 or age 90.

When I started my current job in my school’s business office several years ago, a co-worker gave me some words of encouragement when I commented that my workload was so different than when I was in the classroom. In the classroom, there were projects that each child needed to finish at a particular time. If not, they would never happen. When you’re done with the letter A, you move on to the letter B. Period. She reassured me that it’s normal to have something left to do in your inbox. You come back the next day and continue where you left off. While that may sound daunting to some—like the work never stops (it doesn’t)—it sounds like job security to me. There’s always something left to do.

In the same way, isn’t there always life left to live? Turn it around the other way and think of how bleak life would be if we didn’t have something left to do. (In fact, I think many people do feel this—as have I before my thyroid disease was diagnosed—but depression is a whole different post.) So while I might not understand why good people with so much life ahead of them die, it is somewhat of a comfort to know that those who leave full inboxes are in good company. But those inboxes—unfinished projects, unchecked lists, trips not taken, words not said—aren’t the only things left behind. There are also wonderful memories, incredible legacies, and small kindnesses that make life worth living to begin with. May 2021 be filled with such moments for you.

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You Can’t Take NaNoWriMo from Me, 2020!

With all the crazy changes that 2020 has brought, I was determined to have one normal thing: National Novel Writing Month, also known as NaNoWriMo. This year marked my eighth foray into the crazy undertaking of writing a 50,000-word novel in the month of November. It was also my eighth win—yay!

With everything else that’s gone awry so far this year, I was worried that NaNoWriMo would be added to the list, especially since it’s been a struggle the last few years. NaNoWriMo 2019 was the ultimate low for me. I did have a good excuse, at least: last fall, I started grad school, and I wondered if I would be able to cobble together 50,000 words. But while grad school made finding time to write a challenge, it was my enthusiasm for the story itself that was the real reason for my struggle. I really had reservations when, 22 days in, I had only written 17,000 words. But I’m not one to quit when I say I’m going to do something, so I knuckled down and validated by the 29th of the month. It was a pretty miserable experience, honestly. I labored on after November, attempting to finish the book, and then—boom—COVID. When you’re writing a book set in 2020, and then a pandemic happens, it tends to kill an already-floundering storyline. I don’t know. Maybe someday I’ll have the energy to go back and fix it.

Unfortunately, I was already on a downward spiral, with 2017 and 2018 being little better. Those two years, I actually wrote the same story. After 2017 lost its mojo, I decided to set it aside and start fresh for NaNoWriMo 2018. But even though I have two novels’ worth of material, I still have never been able to put it all together into one cohesive book.

I’ve had to face the reality that nothing will be like my first NaNoWriMo in 2013. That was the year I embraced what I thought was a completely insane experiment and started with a sprint—over 4700 typed on day one. And I hit 50,000 words just 14 days in. I’m realistic enough to know that that is not the standard to which I should hold myself, but still. I don’t want 2013 to be the one hit wonder of my NaNo experience.

Thank goodness it wasn’t. Although no subsequent year has been as easy as 2013, I finished writing each of my novels for 2014, ’15, and ’16 a few months after NaNoWriMo. And this year, I am determined to do the same. I can’t lie—it helps that I’ve taken a semester off from grad school this fall. Next year, I won’t be able to say the same. But for now, I am determined to enjoy my present success. I’ve already typed 57,000 words, and I haven’t grown weary of this story, as in the past several years. I’m excited to see where it takes me. (Hopefully not as unpredictable and outright nuts as this year, but I’m not counting anything out right now.) Right when I was beginning to fear that NaNoWriMo was just a chore, something from 2020 has finally given me hope.

If you’re a writer, I hope 2020 has provided some interesting fodder for your projects. Did you participate in NaNoWriMo? I’d love to know how you did!

Happy writing, friends.

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Where Were You? Where Are You Now?

It was a Tuesday morning. I was eighteen, a college sophomore. My boyfriend (now husband) and I were in my crappy minivan, which only had a radio for entertainment. We’d tuned into a talk show, and we thought we were hearing some kind of sick joke. As I parked, we realized with complete disbelief—as one talk show host said a second plane had flown into the Twin Towers—that it was absolutely real. 

We were dumbfounded, numb. And since we were already at school, we headed toward our first class, hoping for some sort of clarity from our professor. Unfortunately, she had not been listening to the radio, and since she was running late, she rushed straight into class, never seeing another person before plowing right into the day’s lesson. Maybe she was a little miffed that her class of freshman and sophomores was a bit more subdued than usual, that we stared at her with incomprehension. That we dared to hope that, because the adult with the most authority in the room was proceeding like all was normal, maybe it actually was. The next time our class met, she apologized profusely and said that if she had known, she would have sent us all home.

Instead, we endured that class in a kind of limbo while the rest of the country sat glued to TVs, gathered in small groups, trying to process what was happening. When Thomas and I split up and headed to our next classes, we re-entered the flow of reality. In my class, all the TVs were on the news. Although I don’t remember any other students from that class, I remember the young military wife, tears streaming down her face as she looked at images of the Pentagon under attack, likely terrified for what this meant for her husband. The professor stood to the side, allowing us access to the TVs, explaining that classes were cancelled, but we were welcome to stay if we needed.

The rest of that week passed in a haze. I felt helpless as I watched people in New York searching fruitlessly for loved ones days after the last survivor was found. The one that stands out and still haunts me was a man with a picture of his wife. She was pregnant. That baby would have been an adult now. All that hope stolen from him and his family in a moment.

It’s not every year that I feel moved to share my thoughts and feelings about September 11, 2001, but this year is different. Not a particularly important anniversary year—nineteen—not like next year will be. But still, this is a year in which so much has changed for so many, and not just in our country. Around the world, people’s lives are drastically different than they were a mere six months ago. This is the year when, if something negative happens, you blame it on 2020.

So how does September 11th look this year? Bleaker because we’re already more somber? Or can we eek some glimmer of hope from the day? I am fortunate to know a girl who was born on this date, and while I’ve always felt a bit bad for her, my mindset is starting to shift. What a miracle, to welcome new life on the anniversary of such tragedy!

Recently, my pastor spoke of the human condition, specifically that propensity for humans to never be satisfied with what we have, even (and sometimes especially) when we have more than enough—and he’s right. On the anniversary of a day when so much was taken from us, what do we have left? And particularly on that anniversary in a year when many of us have lost [fill in the blank]—jobs, loved ones, milestones, time with family, normalcy—are we still supposed to be satisfied with what’s left? In my opinion, yes.

I am blessed to have my family, and so far, our health. My husband and I have our jobs, and our children are fortunate to be in schools that are looking after their well-being and their education. We have friends that care about us, even if we can’t see them. We have time together—more time this year than we’ve ever had. There are times when I’ve been bitter, dwelling on those other things that we don’t have, but I am choosing not to focus on those disappointments and lost opportunities.

I also have the capacity to remember, to spend a few moments honoring those who lost so much, to vow again to live with intent and purpose because I am blessed with life. It’s 2020. Anything can happen. Truly, anything can happen no matter what year it is. But this year—today—when I’m so much more cognizant of my mortality, I choose to celebrate being alive one more day in tribute of those who were not given that choice.