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Writer's picture: Jenna WilsonJenna Wilson

Updated: Dec 11, 2021

I used to write about books. This isn't my first blog (that was Xanga), or even my second. More recently than my high school Xanga, I wrote on jennakristine.com on wordpress for a bunch of years—irregularly—and at least half the time it was just about books. Short blurbs of a handful of reads, longer reviews occasionally, collages of everything I wanted to read in the coming season, you get it.


Back when my books per year count leaned towards 100, it wasn't too hard to write about them.


2017 was the first, and only, year I hit that 100 goalthrowing several short books and graphic novels in at the end to do it. Repeating it right away felt unlikely, being newly engaged with under a year to plan, so I set the next goal somewhere between 50-75.


I managed 30. And then in 2019, 25.


And last year? 10. Oops.



I noted the idea for this post at the end of February, when I still hadn't actually finished a book in 2021. At the time, I imagined I was close to something changing.


I was finally engrossed in a few novels again (Circe, The Lovely War) and had others hovering on my nightstand for their turn (Queenie, The Starless Sea). I had a couple of new poetry books sitting around for a few pages here and there (Aphrodite Made Me Do It, and Margaret Atwood's Dearly. And about that time, a long awaited pre-order came in the mail from a woman I went to college with, and I was really looking forward to it (#ChurchToo).


Spoiler: I finished two. Circe (excellent if you like mythology retellings) and Aphrodite Made Me Do It, which... had a lot of pictures, but still counts!


Do I want another book blog? Probably not—but something feels off when I'm not reading, and if I can manage to fix that this year, you might just hear about it.



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