Performative Readers and Hypocrite Lecteurs

Apparently, there’s a thing called ‘Performative Reading’ and the ‘internet’ or rather some Insta/TikTok 20-something lol-merchants don’t like it. Here’s a blog on it with a bonus new poem.

2022: Another year in reading (as in books, not the town near Slough)

Middlemarch – despite predictably squealing ‘Nooooooo, don’t do it’ as Dorothea Brooke settled on the notion that the ridiculously dusty Casaubon would make the perfect husband, and then, experiencing similar stomach-pit lurchings when Lydgate started making eyes at Rosamond Vincy, I thoroughly enjoyed it.

Books found and books lost: another year of reading

Two thoughts, or questions, struck me recently as I reflected on the books I’ve read during 2018. The first was, where do all these books come from? I don’t mean in a literal sense; from a shop or library, but where did I hear about them? I often wonder this about authors in end-of-year-round-ups of…