Does listening to audiobooks count as reading? Here it does. Let’s discuss your favorite reads — or listens.
Genre mattered far less than execution. YA, westerns, memoir, horror, literary fiction – even lighter romance – were all fair game. The result is a year light on five-star reads but heavy on discernment. Not a banner reading year, but certainly a clarifying one.
This book may be a pioneer, but I don’t think it’s essential gay reading – not unless you’re interested in a very specific, very dated form of self-loathing filtered through ornate language.
“True True” is far more entertaining than its dust-jacket suggests, and it’s absolutely worth the time. It exceeded my expectations and, like last year’s winner “James,” suggests the National Book Award isn’t afraid of honoring a novel that’s broadly appealing without being shallow.
A tender, character-driven novel about marriages, secrets and small-town lives—sweeping yet intimate, and one of my standout reads of 2025.
The rotating POVs – Núria, Bong, Collin, Lily, Omar and, of course, Cat – should’ve added texture, but instead it reads like a roll call of “these are the people in your neighborhood,” each with a conveniently tidy arc and a few prepackaged quirks.
If you’re curious, read the first book and stop there. You’ll get the warmth, the melancholy and the best of the concept without watching it grind itself down. And seriously — if you put a cat on the cover, give me a cat in the book.
A mass shooting ties three women together, but despite the emotional setup, “No Hiding in Boise” struggles to go beyond surface-level grief and melodrama. Well-structured, but not all that memorable.
“Heartwood” isn’t the best book I’ve read this year, but it’s among the most gripping. Perfect for readers who want substance and momentum, or book clubs looking for both literary depth and genuine suspense.
This is a hard book beautifully written, and one I’m glad I read. It reminds you that the line between health and sickness, between the life you planned and the one you get, is thinner than we like to believe.
While this started as homework, it became one of my most unexpectedly enjoyable reading projects in years. Binging Sedaris felt like watching a long-running sitcom that occasionally veers into tragedy.
It’s a dense book – beautifully written, but the kind of writing that demands you be fully present. I couldn’t listen for more than about 45 minutes before my mind drifted, not because the content was dull, but because it’s a lot to absorb.
A juicy, unflinching memoir from a former Facebook exec exposing toxic leadership, global consequences and the cost of unchecked idealism in Big Tech.
Anna North’s latest blends murder mystery, myth and environmental tension into something that’s part archaeological thriller and part exploration of land and legacy. It’s beautifully written but also oddly paced, making it a story that feels both historic and contemporary, though not always cohesive.
A haunting but uneven gothic debut where grief, Indigenous folklore, and family trauma intertwine—ambitious, atmospheric, and ultimately exhausting.
A haunting, Indigenous twist on the vampire myth, “The Buffalo Hunter Hunter” blends frontier realities, vengeance and grief into a brutal, beautifully written horror story.
Larry McMurtry’s Pulitzer Prize–winning novel “Lonesome Dove” turned 40 this year, and it’s easy to see why it still resonates. On the surface it’s about a cattle drive from Texas to Montana, but beneath the gunfights and frontier myth-making, it’s really about fidelity, friendship and the cost of dreams.
This is a sprawling, character-driven horror novel mixes crime, grief and the supernatural, but at nearly 600-pages, the pacing often drags. Still, the depth of character and atmosphere kept me engaged.
This is not for casual viewers—it’s for fans who can still quote Randy’s rules and know the opening kitchen scene beat for beat. Cullins validates that obsession and proves “Scream” didn’t just terrify—it truly rewrote the rules of horror.
Chuck Tingle’s “Lucky Day” blends gore, grief and cultural critique into absurdist horror that’s unsettling, chaotic and surprisingly moving.
The ’90s flashbacks pop with life, but the present-day story plods along with frustrating choices and contrived reveals. Nostalgic and eerie in spots, yet ultimately feels phoned in.
