When I was in high school, I would regularly read 100+ books a year. But I was also introverted, painfully awkward, and didn’t have any genuine friendships.
In adulthood, I found my stride. I learned how to love people and life and experiences. I became more interested in living my life in real-time, with real people, rather than experiencing it through the eyes of others.
But finding a balance between these two great passions – living a good life and reading good literature – has never been easy for me.
So while living abroad in Korea, again faced with the same kind of isolation I experienced in high school, I set a challenge for myself: return to the passionate teenager who could read 100+ books a year, while also honoring the passionate adult who doesn’t want to let life pass me by.
Truthfully, 2024 took a few turns I didn’t expect, including throwing some health problems back into my face. I returned to Canada feeling less empowered, and more exhausted. The summer months in particular were rough on me.
Yet despite those set-backs, I still managed some incredible feats.
I returned to Japan for the first time in a decade. I visited Taiwan, Vietnam, and Indonesia for the first time. I travelled across Korea, including renting a car and driving around Jeju Island by myself. I made a brother out there, formed my strongest friendship with a female yet, and was reminded of the incredible love that awaited me when I finally returned home.
Also, also, also, I got to see my grandma for the first-time in over five years. The last time she saw me, I was a teenager with cancer. This time, I was a woman with a career.
I’m now a Master’s student. I regularly produce high-quality, dynamic content, including video journalism pieces. I’m on the cusp of a starting a true, professional career in a field I’m passionate about.
All while having completed my goal of reading 100 books.
Let’s take a closer look at some of the books that impacted me the most:
Migrations by Charlotte McConnaghy is a book that I regularly think about, and I didn’t know it’d leave that impression on me so far into the future.
“Franny Stone has always been the kind of woman who is able to love but unable to stay. Leaving behind everything but her research gear, she arrives in Greenland with a singular purpose: to follow the last Arctic terns in the world on what might be their final migration to Antarctica. Franny talks her way onto a fishing boat, and she and the crew set sail, traveling ever further from shore and safety. But as Franny’s history begins to unspool—a passionate love affair, an absent family, a devastating crime—it becomes clear that she is chasing more than just the birds. When Franny’s dark secrets catch up with her, how much is she willing to risk for one more chance at redemption?” – Goodreads
Despite seemingly being about birds, bird-watching and bird-chasing, it’s actually an incredibly moving account about Franny, her deep love of people and her inability to stay put. It’s actually incredible the amount of bird description the author managed to squeeze into this novel, and while I normally would be put off by it, it was cleverly, masterfully done in a manner that relates back to this deeply tortured woman.
It’s a deeply isolating read. You can feel Franny’s desolation, how her deep-rooted need to be free conflicts with the genuine love and affection she feels for those she leaves behind. Her guilt weighs heavy on her, but I think it weighs heavier on us to read. It’s difficult, understanding why someone is who they are, recognizing the horrible mistakes they’ve made, and still somehow forgiving them and wanting to see them succeed.
I think I originally gave this book 4/5 stars, but it’s really 5/5.
Sorrow and Bliss by Meg Mason also left a strong impression on me.
“This novel is about a woman called Martha. She knows there is something wrong with her but she doesn’t know what it is. Her husband Patrick thinks she is fine. He says everyone has something, the thing is just to keep going.” – Goodreads
This one I properly rated 5/5 stars, but it was difficult to read, watching this poor woman desperately trying to love and hold onto the people around her, while being helpless to her own tumultuous, volatile nature. Her repetitive, manic mantra of what is wrong with me? rang like a clear bell in my ear and made something sink in my stomach.
I still don’t agree with the explanation for Martha’s behaviours. I understand why the author made that choice, but I found it both a cop-out and a convenience. And this might make me sound like a horrible person, but I didn’t think things should wrap up so ‘nicely’ at the end either.
Still- a powerful read. Just because I don’t agree with some plot points doesn’t mean I wasn’t still touched by Martha’s story.
In the Dream House by Carmen Maria Machado was one that everyone told me I’d enjoy, but I don’t know if enjoy is the right word.
“For years Carmen Maria Machado has struggled to articulate her experiences in an abusive same-sex relationship. In this extraordinarily candid and radically inventive memoir, Machado tackles a dark and difficult subject with wit, inventiveness and an inquiring spirit, as she uses a series of narrative tropes—including classic horror themes—to create an entirely unique piece of work which is destined to become an instant classic.” – Goodreads
To be fair, I read quite a few memoirs this year, and while some lives and stories I can still conjure up, none have stayed with me quite like this one.
I can’t describe that particular shame you feel when you know someone is doing wrong by you and yet you feel responsible for allowing their behaviour to have escalated to that point of unbearable anymore. I don’t think this is something a person can understand unless they’ve lived lonely before, without a clear sense of belonging, and have stumbled upon the affections of someone they feel is above them.
I mourn for these people, like myself, who had to experience such awful mistreatment at the hands of those who exploited our desire not only to receive love, but also to give it as well. We’re normally the types that have it in abundance, and we’re not hoarders. We give ourselves freely. Normally at our own expense.
A haunting read.
Lastly, and I debated whether I should include this one or not, but finally I decided that, yes, Bright Young Women by Jessica Knoll is worth mentioning.
“Bright Young Women is the story about two women from opposite sides of the country who become sisters in their fervent pursuit of the truth. It proposes a new narrative inspired by evidence that’s been glossed over for decades in favor of more salable headlines—that the so-called brilliant and charismatic serial killer from Seattle was far more average than the countless books, movies, and primetime specials have led us to believe, and that it was the women whose lives he cut short who were the exceptional ones.” – Goodreads
I’ve gotten more into thrillers as I’ve gotten older, but they’re generally something I lay to rest once finished. I guess knowing that this is based on an actual, popularized serial killer makes me feel a different way.
But really, I just want to highlight how accurately this book captures intense fear and inarticulable rage. Despite living through traumatic experience that doesn’t technically effect you, and seeing how others suffer more severely around you, that doesn’t negate the very valid expressions of fear that grip you when you least expect them. You almost feel guilty for being so scared because, really, nothing truly happened to you, right?
And then comes the anger. That it happened to you at all, that you’re still scared in the first place. That others minimize what you went through, or don’t even believe you. Convince that it’s not that bad, it could’ve been worse. Be grateful for what you have, focus on moving forward. And really, you just want to stay where you are, give yourself the time to unpack and understand what’s happened, and for others to be right there with you as you do.
So yes, this book is worth mentioning.
I feel revealed by my reading selection. It’s particularly interesting to me that this is the first year I’ve read so many female authors. And so many of those authors I read from in 2024 described, in great detail, the feelings of doubt, fear, anger, depression, loneliness, isolation, and desperation.
Let that sink in for a bit.
Honestly, I was pretty burnout at the end of the year. I’m glad to have accomplished a goal I set for myself, but I’m sorry it sometimes came at the cost of personal growth and peace of mind.
I don’t want to set another goal like this again. But never say never. I’m surprising myself as an adult, doing things I said I never would.
But let’s let 2025 be a calmer, more holistic year.
I don’t think I could handle another intense one.
Janessa Alexis 
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