Okay this is embarrassing. This post has been in my drafts since… well, 2016. And now it’s suddenly March. Anyway, time to look back on 2016, and give you some statistics as well!
I have no idea how I feel about 2016. My year started out horribly, so the only way was up. Minus the first few months, 2016 was a good year for me personally, with plenty of traveling and stability in my professional life. But beyond that, 2016 was rather crap wasn’t it? Politically (but I won’t go into that) as well as seeing all my favourite celebrities pass away, mostly unexpectedly, at ages far too young…
While I won’t say I was angry at the world, I did often give the world the middle finger and stood firmly for what I believe in. One big fuck you was given through my reading. As my personal revenge on the world, this year I have been reading almost exclusively books by and about women, LGBTQIA+ and PoC. When I was reading all the ‘official’ end-of-year lists by the big media, I regretted this not a bit. All lists, both international as well as national, are dominated by white men. I swear, I have yet to encounter a ‘big’ list that is made up of more than 30% women, for starters. How completely unimaginative and lazy. Fuck that.
Anyway! As every year, I set out to read 52 books and was already far ahead early in the year. My reading slowed down in the last quarter of the year as I was just too busy (busy having fun, mostly, no complaining there!). I still ended up reading 77 books.
Reading great books in the original should be the culmination of language study, but reading Japanese literature unassisted is a daunting task that can defeat even the most able of students. Breaking into Japanese Literature is designed to help you bypass all the frustration and actually enjoy classics of Japanese literature.
Breaking into Japanese Literature features seven graded stories by Natsume Soseki and Akutagawa Ryunosuke, covering a variety of genres.
This book was… not that great. But let me start off on a positive note: I enjoyed the stories. The book contains seven short stories in total, by Natsume Sōseki and Ryūnosuke Akutagawa. The selection of stories, content wise, is good. The stories are quite dark, which I love, and I especially like Akutagawa, so reading these stories wasn’t boring.
Taking place mostly in rural Georgia, the story focuses on the life of women of color in the southern United States in the 1930s, addressing numerous issues including their exceedingly low position in American social culture.
It was always difficult being Harry Potter and it isn’t much easier now that he is an overworked employee of the Ministry of Magic, a husband and father of three school-age children.
While Harry grapples with a past that refuses to stay where it belongs, his youngest son Albus must struggle with the weight of a family legacy he never wanted. As past and present fuse ominously, both father and son learn the uncomfortable truth: sometimes, darkness comes from unexpected places.
Let me start by saying, I’m not outright dismissing The Cursed Child with my less-than-enthusiastic rating. I still really want to see the play.
Prologue: Of course I had already preordered the book at a local book store but when the publication date was there, I contemplated waiting a few days and picking it up after work. The weather on the release day was nice however, so I set out and picked up the book on July 31st.
1987. There's only one person who has ever truly understood fourteen-year-old June Elbus, and that's her uncle, the renowned painter Finn Weiss. Shy at school and distant from her older sister, June can only be herself in Finn's company; he is her godfather, confidant, and best friend. So when he dies, far too young, of a mysterious illness her mother can barely speak about, June's world is turned upside down. But Finn's death brings a surprise acquaintance into June's life--someone who will help her to heal, and to question what she thinks she knows about Finn, her family, and even her own heart.