Category: Book Blogger Hop Page 1 of 7

This prompt was submitted by Billy @ Coffee Addicted Writer:

What book do you think deserves more love but flies under the radar?

There are so, so many that I could list here. But I’m going to go with a book I happened to be thinking about earlier today. (okay, yesterday by the time you read this, if you want to get pedantic)

According to Mark

by H. B. O’Neill

DETAILS:
Publisher: Fahrenheit Press
Publication Date: February 2, 2024
Format: eARC
Length: 496 pg.
Read Date: November 27-30, 2023

But we are all insane, anyway…The suicides seem to be the only sane people.
—Mark Twain’s Notebook, #40, (Jan. 1897-July 1900)

What’s According to Mark About?

This is tricky to describe, but let’s give it a shot.

Following a bad breakup, a despondent man, Robert, becomes convinced that the spirit of Mark Twain is trying to guide his life and thinking, giving him lessons in the form of quotations from Twain’s works. Eventually, Twain focuses on getting Robert to kill himself. Robert’s eager to follow the lessons of his hero, but things keep interfering with his efforts.

Meanwhile, Robert’s ex, Rebecca, is in therapy trying to deal with the breakup herself.

The novel takes us through Robert’s memories of their relationship while showing us the detritus of his life following the breakup and his efforts to do what Twain is calling him to do. In alternating narrative sections, we see Rebecca’s account of their relationship and we see a little bit of how she’s carrying on. Some of these accounts are synced to give us both perspectives on the events right after each other, some of them come several pages apart so the reader has to do some mental copying and pasting to get a chronological understanding of what happened.

That’s a pretty basic, yet comprehensive, way to tell you what the book is about without giving anything away. And it’s wholly unsatisfactory. Let’s see if I can do better in the next couple of sections.

Rebecca Morely

It’s entirely possible that Rebecca has been in therapy for some time before she and Robert broke up—she strikes me as the kind of person who may have seen therapists throughout her life as a way of staying healthy. Or maybe this is new for her.

Regardless, following the end of their long relationship, she’s in therapy now and her psychotherapist has instructed her to write a letter to herself as a means of coming to terms with the events. Rebecca tells us straight off that she’s struggling with some of the chronology, so we expect that the letter(s) won’t get everything perfectly straight and will hop around a bit, the way memories do. From her, we do get a fairly straightforward account of things between her and Robert—although she does circle around the events that led to their split a little, she doesn’t want to face it.

We see that Rebecca is a sweet woman. A sweet woman who is pushed around a bit by her parents’ expectations and wants for her—one of their big expectations is that she’ll eventually marry someone Rebecca’s known her whole life. He’s essentially an 80s teen movie villain who managed to grow up without Daniel Russo teaching him a lesson by kicking him in the face or Cindy Mancini setting him straight about how to treat women. She’s trapped by her parents expectations, and her understanding of society’s expectations, too.

But she’s finding her own way through that to focus on what’s best for her and what she wants. She wants love, marriage, companionship—and thinks she may have found that (or most of it, anyway) in the eccentric form of Robert. She’s very happy until things start to go wrong in his life and he won’t respond the way she thinks he ought. Little cracks in their foundation start to spread and eventually, things fall apart.

I really liked Rebecca. I empathized and sympathized with her—up to and including her self-recriminations. Possibly because of Robert’s view of her, I couldn’t see her as anything other than a wonderful person who made some tragic mistakes. Their relationship—particularly seen from her point of view—was so sweet even when we know it’s doomed. I found myself rooting for them even harder because I knew it wouldn’t work.

Horatio Robert Foxley

No man has a wholly undiseased mind; in one way or another all men are mad.
—Mark Twain, “The Memorable Assassination”

Robert (who hates the name Horatio), on the other hand…is hard to like (but you will). He’s hard to understand (but you’ll want to). He’s also a pretty unreliable narrator due to the way he sees the world in general, which grows worse as the book progresses. But you’ll get to where you can see through his narration to what’s really going on.

There are clearly a few (possibly several) diagnoses that psychotherapists and their colleagues would give Robert, but he never sees one to be given any diagnoses, medication, or other treatment. It’s tempting to play armchair psychologist and start listing some of them—but I’m going to resist that. O’Neill doesn’t give us the labels or diagnoses, so it’s speculation.

More importantly, this novel isn’t about a person with X. It’s not about his disorder. It’s not about his dealing with whatever issues he has. Those books have their places–and I’ve read my share of them. But O’Neill hastn’t written a novel about a man struggling with or coping with a diagnosis. It’s a novel about a man. It’s about Robert in all his strengths and foibles. He’s a man with many strengths, and some severe weaknesses, like most of us. According to Mark is about Robert’s life and his heart. He’s capable of great love, he’s capable of being loved. And like so many, when some of the supports in his life change or go away, his ability to cope with all the vagaries of life falters. He falters significantly because he needs his supports more than others seem to.

He and Rebecca have a Nancy Meyers-worthy meet cute, and his quirkiness (at least that’s how it comes across initially) attracts Rebecca. They build a life together—sure, she has trouble getting him to fit into hers—her friends and family don’t respond to Robert the way she wants, but they make do. He hits some bumps in the road, and doesn’t respond to them very well. Rebecca responds poorly to his responses.

Then he’s alone and Mark Twain starts whispering in his ear. Robert started reading Twain because of Rebecca, and quickly became a fan. Too much of a fan, one might argue. He read everything Twain wrote that he could get his hands on, and then everything he could about Twain. Rebecca chalked it up to enthusiasm, a sign that he was open to growth and that she had an impact on him—that he respected her opinion. But even she thinks he goes overboard with Twain. He’s driven enough, smart enough, and excessively concentrated enough on Twain that when these whispers start, they are actual quotations that Robert’s absorbed.

Once Twain starts talking to him, whatever was keeping Robert on the rails departs. And we are given a front-row seat to a mind falling apart. It’s horrific when you stop and think about it—but ever so compelling in O’Neill’s hands. More on that later.

Mark Twain

I learned more about Twain—particularly his time in England—than I’d known before thanks to Robert. I mean, O’Neill’s research. And naturally, the quotations that the book is full of make you want to go read more bons mots from him, if not actual works.

But at the same time…Robert becomes a case study in going too far with someone like Mark Twain, and I’ve been reticent to approach his work since then. I don’t think I’d end up like Robert, but…it’s like watching Jaws. You know it’s just a movie, that sharks like that don’t really exist. Buuuuut…maybe you should stay away from beaches/the ocean for a bit, just in case.

The Mark Twain in Robert’s head is an interesting figure—and one has to imagine that the actual Twain would appreciate (on some level) O’Neill’s use of his words.

Can You Laugh at This?

Man, I hope so. There are some moments around the first (that we see, anyway) attempt Robert makes at ending his life that seem to want to make you laugh. I did, anyway—like in Holland’s Better Off Dead—there’s some solid black comedy there (as Twain would want).

But the laughs taper off pretty quickly the more you understand Robert and what he’s going through. Also, his situation and mental health deteriorate steadily, and you forget about laughing and just want the guy to find some help (and, yes, things are already pretty bad as he’s suicidal when we meet him). This doesn’t make the book joyless or tortuous to get through—in fact, absurd moments, and little dashes of (mostly black) humor fill the book.

H. B. O’Neill

You really don’t have to read O’Neill’s website to know he’s a poet. His eye for detail is astounding. There are several instances of him focusing on a feature of a scene, a tiny aspect of Robert’s appearance, or something in his environment that made me put down the book to bask in it for a moment.

You can definitely see his poetry in word choices. There are repeated instances where Robert will look at the street and business signs around him, convinced that Mark Twain is communicating to him through them—the text will just be a string of these signs. And sure, it looks like O’Neill just wandered onto a random city block, took a few notes, and—presto!—had a paragraph for the book. But you know that’s not what happened—instead, he carefully constructed these lines to look like that—and yet to have a wonderful rhythm, provoke just the right images, and push Robert along the way he needs to be. I made a note at one point, “How does someone compose this? How does one revise this?” I’m just going to chalk it up to brilliance and move on.

The prose, the characters, the character arcs…these are all brilliantly conceived and executed, and I just cannot say enough good things about O’Neill’s writing.

So, what did I think about According to Mark?

If you cannot tell at this point, well, then I’ve really done a lousy job. You might want to just go by what I’ve said already because I may start overhyping it here.

This book wrecked me. It dominated my thinking and conversation at the end of November. I became obsessed with it—my friends and family surely got tired of me talking about it as I read on. I started compiling lists of who to recommend it to, who I should just buy it for (the publisher will be happy to know that I have purchased multiple copies already and I’m probably not done). I also have a list of people I’m going to warn away from this book, because, my friends, According to Mark is not for everyone. But the right people are going to love this book.

I’m not sure if I gave too much away above—I don’t think I did. And I tell you truly, I could’ve easily kept going on and on. This is me showing restraint.

It’s hard to put into written form what I want to say about this book. There’s part of Fridland’s Like, Literally, Dude where she shows all the way “Dude” can be used in a conversation with its various shades of meaning. I can see having a conversation with someone who’s read the book largely consisting of those shades.

“So where he makes her a bikini? Oh, dude!”

“And then with the lady at the library? Duuuude.”

“Oh, Dude! The poor dog with the swans!”

“Dude…” (laughter)

and so on. There’s an infamous scene from The Wire with a different four-letter word that would also work as an example of the conversation I could have with someone who’s read it.

But for you, the people that I’m trying to convince to read it? I don’t know how to convey exactly what I want to say.

Trust me. You want to read this. The writing is exquisite. These characters are wonderfully drawn and brought to life by O’Neill. According to Mark entertained me. It horrified me. It moved me. It disturbed me. It rattled me. It broke my heart. It gave me some odd hope. I loathed some of these characters, and loved others to a degree that’s unsettling. It’s been 64 days since I finished this book, and I’ve likely thought about this book on at least 53 of them (and not just because it took me this long to write this post). It’s one of the best books I’ve read in ages, and one I see myself talking about for years to come.

Disclaimer: I was given this eARC from Fahrenheit Press—with no expectation that I’d write anything. But there’s no way I could not say something. Thanks to them for this gift.

This prompt was submitted by Billy @ Coffee Addicted Writer:

What’s the quirkiest or most unexpected place you’ve ever read a book, and why?

I’m going to appropriate things I wrote in Book Blogger Hop: Favorite Reading Nook back in 2022 for this one (which, in turn, appropriated something I’d written even earlier). But there is some non-recycled material here, too.

I can—and do—read anywhere: in a house, with a mouse, in a (or on a) box, with a fox, in a car, in a (or under a) tree, on a train (theoretically, never been), in the dark, in the rain (assuming I have some sort of cover—can’t let the pages get wet), with a goat, but definitely not in a boat (I get seasick quicker than Toby Daye gets new clothes blood-stained.

I’ve read in hotel rooms, Airbnbs, a beach, tire shop waiting rooms, hospital waiting rooms, hospital rooms, DMV waiting rooms, restaurants, waiting for a Metal concert to start, during a High School (or lower) orchestra/band concert, during intermission or before a High School play, between bouts at FIRST Robotics competitions, at family gatherings…really anywhere where I have a couple of minutes without much to pay attention to. Thanks to eBook apps on my phone I can do it anywhere. I’ve forgotten them all. I don’t know about unusual or quirky. I’m sure there’s something there.

This question, like the one I mentioned above, made me think of a post from a few years ago, and I figured I’d copy and paste it here. It seems sort of appropriate. I’m not sure it’s the most unusual or quirkiest, but it’s as close as I can remember.

Where the Magic Happens…or something

Three years ago when I switched to a day job, my reading habits had to change—among other things. It took almost no time at all to realize that reading in the break room just wasn’t going to work—it was too loud, there were too many things going on, you couldn’t sit by yourself, really. And then there were all these nice people wanting to talk.

Actually, people, in general, being around was something to get used to, but that’s another story.

Then I realized that there were perfectly good stairs a lot closer to my workspace than the break room was. So I started hanging out there and reading—sometimes, sitting on the stairs, other times leaning against the railing—it’s at a decent height for that. Nowadays, that’s where 40-60% of my weekday reading happens while on break.

It’s not perfectly quiet, but it’s close enough. Except when the flautist practices every couple of months. There are people who pass through—and some of them talk to me, but the conversations are short—because they’re on their way to somewhere else. Sometimes it’s just a “hi,” and occasionally I workshop ideas for posts here when someone asks about what I’m reading. I’ve even been given a couple of good recommendations.

Now, the keen-eyed among you might have noticed a couple of post-its on the wall (circled below).

So, for a couple of years, people would joke about putting up a sign where I read with my name on it or something (more than one person has suggested getting me a chair). But last December, I moved to a different floor, and within a month, someone had put up the larger post-it reading “[H. C.]’s Reading Spot.” This would be in the larger circle.

A couple of weeks later, that person asked if I liked my sign. I had to confess that I had no clue what she was talking about and apologized profusely. Who pays attention to the walls along the stairs? Especially when you’re not climbing the stairs, but are focused on the book/eReader in your hand. So when I went out for my next break, I went looking for it—and she’d added another post-it (the smaller one), “<– This is the sign.”

Very helpful.

So, yeah, that’s where I read and recharge from all the interaction with people so I have enough energy to get back to work and interact with more people.

Sure, it’s not as snazzy as some of the reading nooks you see on Instagram, Bookstr, etc. It could be more comfortable, that’s for sure. But I’ve gotta say, when the book is halfway decent, I don’t notice. That’s where the magic happens.

What’s your quirkiest place?

Hemingway talked about writing drunk and editing sober. I wrote and edited this sober, and then revised and added to it feverish and sleep-deprived. I think Hemingway’s strategy was better. I hope this is coherent.

This prompt was submitted by Billy @ Coffee Addicted Writer:

If you had to, would you pass your book collection on to someone special? If not, what would you prefer your family or friends do with your books after you’re gone?

So I had this drafted last week, and then the minister at church reminded us all during the sermon that we are going to die. And it felt a little strange to have this scheduled to go given the tone of this post and that reminder. Humans have a tendency to form outsized attachments to possessions. I am fully aware that my books are just ink, paper, and glue (with a little stitching and leather thrown in for good measure). Yes, I can admit that my attachments to them are frequently outsized–and I (almost) as frequently realize that.

Still, I can have some fun with it.

I’ve ended up getting many books from family members after they’re gone (mostly before that happened). For example, I received many Nero Wolfe books from the aunt who’d introduced them to me in Middle School. Sure, most were duplicates of books I got for myself–but a lot of these were the first copies I read, and that’s kind of special. So I get the impulse behind that passing them on–and appreciate it.

There are individual books that I’d like to pass on to friends/family. I can’t imagine anyone would like them all. I wish they would. I mean, I like to think my children picked up on my impeccable taste, but sadly, they insist on possessing their own (potentially peccable) taste. Still, Son #2 will likely get my Adams collection. My daughter and Son #1 will get parts of my graphic novels/manga collections, and so on. Most likely only ones that I think they’d appreciate having (but I might sneak some posthumous recommendations/nagging in, too–I’m not giving away my last shot).

Assuming she survives me, I’ll leave the bulk of my library to my beloved spouse—with the strict instruction that she is not to dispose of them in a manner I’d find untoward. Primarily by finding them a loving home. I’m not entirely sure she’ll follow that instruction—I know she’s not into library maintenance. But I (have to) assume what she’ll do with them is right.

Maybe she can send them to a farm upstate, where they’ll have room to run around and have fun with other beloved books…

At the same time…I can’t help but think of this meme I saw at the Goodwill Librarian’s page:

or this bit of gold from Jonathan Edward Durham (although I’m not sure what you’re supposed to do with that reading/lending paperback in his scenario…maybe that’s the one that my wife had to deal with)

Have you started making plans?

This prompt was submitted by Billy @ Coffee Addicted Writer:

Which book pairs perfectly with a certain snack in your opinion?

I’ve talked about drinking while reading before, and attempted to come up with some pairings of drinks and books. But if I’ve done snacks/foods before, I’ve forgotten it.

There’s a danger in pairing some things with books. Silence of the Dead pretty much makes you want pie—having some handy would probably lead to overindulgence. Brownies/cookies with a Mercy Thompson book would lead to that, too. A Dresden Files novel could make you want Burger King. Spenser novels will make you want Dunkin’.

Really, I could go on like that. Maybe it’s just a reflection of my self-control (or lack thereof)—a good pairing between book and snack is going to lead to problems.

Which isn’t to say I’m not a fan of snacking while reading—in moderation, of course*—but you’ve got to be careful. You don’t want anything too greasy, buttery, sticky, or that will otherwise damage the cover/pages. It should be something that you don’t need both hands for (you need one to hold the book/eReader, right?). It probably should be pretty simple—nothing you have to focus on, just mindlessly grab and move mouth-ward, without losing focus/taking your eyes off the book.

* In case my physician is reading this, I have to say this.

Of course, I could be wrong, and I’m looking forward to seeing what others are thinking/saying.

This prompt was submitted by Billy @ Coffee Addicted Writer:

Which genre are you eager to jump into more this year, and what draws you to it?

Well, I always feel like I should be reading more Non-Fiction than I do. Probably a hold-over from that “reading as self-improvement” model my teachers tried to drum into me. So maybe that?

I spent most of 2025 thinking it’s been too long since I read a good mystery/crime/detective novel. That’s pretty strange for me to say. But the stats I posted yesterday bear that out. So maybe that?

I have so, so many Fantasy books on my Bought and Unread Shelves that I’d love to tackle. I seem to really be getting into them lately, anyway. So maybe that?

I’ve been reading a lot of super-compelling SF books lately (and, yes, have a few of those on that same shelf) that it makes sense to try to keep that streak going. So maybe that?

I’ve nearly-unbelievably fallen behind on some of my favorite UF series (and just found a new one that I’m already behind on). So maybe that?

Cozy Fantasy would be good for my spirits to read more of (and I have more of those than I should on the too oft-mentioned Bought-and-Unread Shelf). So maybe that?

Classics? That’s a genre (of sorts) that I keep meaning to put more effort into—it wouldn’t take much, honestly, to make a huge impact on that front. So maybe that?

Similarly, there’s a reward of reading from the Non-Genre genre—“Contemporary” or “General” fiction (and it can often tap into the self-improvement thing I mentioned earlier). So maybe that?

I’ve been dabbling in Manga, too—and have more than one voice in my head suggesting other titles. So maybe that?

So, um…yeah. I really don’t know the answer to this question. Maybe I’m just eager to dive into everything?? Yeah, that sounds like an Irresponsible (or whim-based) Reader to say.

What about you? Is there a genre, topic, whatever that you’re looking to focus on in 2026?

This prompt was submitted by Billy @ Coffee Addicted Writer:

Are you more of a plot-driven reader or a character-driven reader?

That’s an interesting question. I’m not completely certain that it’s something I considered until I joined Storygraph and they started asking. I resist the distinction—it takes characters to drive a plot, and it takes a plot (or three) to drive characters.

And yet…

And yet…

It’s Character-driven novels. By a mile. Yes, there are some books where the characters aren’t that important—just the machinations of the plot (I’d offer a couple of Reacher novels or other thrillers as nominees—but would we care as much without ol’ Jack at the center?). And sometimes, even books featuring characters one likes/loves will sacrifice them because of plot (there are dozen of examples on the metaphorical tip of my metaphorical tongue, but they’re not making it past that point). I’m not talking sacrifice in terms of death there, just “there’s no way that X would do something like Y in a million years.”

But I’m far more willing to put up with an aimless, unfocused, or otherwise meandering novel if I like the characters than I am putting up with an intricate and well-paced plot with dull, flat, or unlikeable characters. I’ve read them both, I’ve enjoyed both. But the former will get me to come back to the author more eagerly.

Do you have a preference for what drives a book?

This prompt was submitted by Snapdragon @ Snapdragon Alcove:

Have you ever read a book with a character with the same name as you?

Yes. Which isn’t easy. I grew up as one of those kids who never found their name on the license plate souvenir, bracelet, Coke bottle, etc., etc. So, that I can think of three books that have a character with my name in it is pretty surprising (I want to say that I’ve read four, but I can’t think of the other one).

Except it appears that I’m mistaken. I was sure that Thomas Rockwell’s How to Eat Fried Worms featured a kid with my childhood nickname, but I can’t find proof of that (and don’t want to re-read the book for a passing reference just for this post). It must’ve been a book I read about the same time. And now it’s bugging me that I can’t think of it.

Sometime between writing that paragraph and scheduling this post, I remembered I had access to this thing called “The Internet”—perhaps you’ve heard of it? Typing “hobie juvenile books 1980s” into DuckDuckGo led me to Thirteen Ways to Sink a Sub, which is obviously it—and was the first of the Hobie Hanson series, of which I was previously unaware. I do think I remember reading 4B Goes Wild, the sequel. But there are 7 books in this series (most published after I was too old to read them, but not yet old enough to not care). I’d completely forgotten about this book’s existence—and while my memories of it aren’t full. I do have warm, fuzzy associations with it. I don’t remember Hobie being an incredibly great kid, but he had potential—and wasn’t as much of a snot as some of his classmates.

Last year, for our Science Fiction Book Club, we took on Robert R. Heinlein’s The Moon is a Harsh Mistress. If I didn’t know better*, I’d have assumed the leader, George picked the book to needle me, because it features a former Federated Nations Senator, Mortimer Hobart. Also known as “the Warden” and “Mort the Wort.” I’m just glad that the colonists didn’t use his surname as the source of their juvenile nickname (having survived Junior High School, it’s an easy mark). While I can’t say that the Warden is the worst villain in the novel—but he’s sure a convenient figurehead for everything wrong on the colony—and is one of the first targets of the revolution.

* And I really don’t.

The best is from Jeff Noon’s book Vurt. At a summer job while in college, a co-worker got a strange look on his face when we met. Once he found out I was a reader, too, he wanted to know if I’d read Vurt—I hadn’t, but it was absolutely up my alley. Turns out he reacted to my name because he remembered this passage:

Everybody knew about Hobart, but nobody knew anything. Just the hundreds of rumours that surrounded the name: Hobart invented Vurt. Hobart is alive, Hobart is dead. Hobart is a man, a woman, a child, an alien. Some have called her Queen Hobart, and they have worshipped her. To others Hobart is a dream or a myth, or just a good story that somebody made up, so good that it stuck around, became truth. Nobody knew anything.

Sure, the more you read in the book, the less you want to be associated with Hobart. But…c’mon, how often do you get to (mis-)appropriate a quote like this? “Hobart is a dream or a myth, or just a good story that somebody made up, so good that it stuck around, became truth.”

I still can’t remember if there is a fourth book—and that’s okay. Three is enough.

What about you, reader? Do you have a literary namesake or two? Are they more flattering than mine?

This prompt was submitted by Page @ Pages of Perfiction:

How do you strike a balance between providing enough information to pique readers’ interest without giving away too many spoilers in your reviews?

I’ll let you know as soon as I find the balance.

What, you want more? Yeah, I guess I should elaborate a bit since you took the time to click the link.

Okay, my approach has essentially always been: what would I tell a friend to get them to pick up the book? Sure, for many of them–like me–all I need to say is an author’s name, or maybe the series, and they’re sold. But sometimes they want a little more–and I have a friend or two in mind for each genre. I’m literally writing to them–what would I say to Paul/Nicole/Tony (there are others, I don’t want to give an exhaustive list, or I’ll leave someone off) to get them to bite?

That’s basically it–I don’t want to give away too much–sometimes I think the jacket copy does, and I just don’t get it. Sometimes I can’t figure out a way to talk about about it without ruining something, so I’ll just copy the jacket copy. I’m really sensitive to this–while I know you can appreciate some books while knowing parts of the plot ahead of time, for me, there’s nothing like discovery. So I try to preserve that.

One time an author labeled one of my posts as containing mild spoilers on their website–when I had gone out of my way to not give any. And frankly, anyone who picked up the book and didn’t assume the thing I think the author was alluding to was going to happen has never read a book before. (and yes, it’s still on their website saying that)

That said, I’m not sure how well I strike that balance, and I’m always trying to do better.

What about you, reader? How much do you want a blogger like me to say?

This prompt was submitted by Nicole @ The Christian Fiction Girl:

What are some of your favorite books to re-read?

I really don’t have–rather, don’t make–much time to re-read anymore. This is one of the biggest complaints I have about my reading, honestly. It’s also the thing I keep telling myself I’ll do better at, and then I’ll go months without re-reading a single thing. As great as it is to find a “new friend” or be blown away by a story you hadn’t imagined before, going back to an old favorite has a kind of comfort and familiarity that can’t be beat (and you get to know them so much better). Before I got into blogging–I’d re-read all the time. Especially when I was a kid, I’d usually come home from the library with a book I’d read before along with the new-to-me reads. Now, I might force myself to do some, but not that often. So these lists are not incredibly current, but they kind of are. And you’re not going to find something more current from me.

Non-Fiction

(there should be more here, but I’m drawing a blank)
The Pleasures of Reading in an Age of Distraction by Alan Jacobs
The Right Stuff by Tom Wolfe

Standalones

Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë
The Commitments by Roddy Doyle
The Snapper by Roddy Doyle (this is technically the second in a series, but it works better as a standalone)
The Phantom Tollbooth by Norton Juster
The Princess Bride by William Goldman
The Westing Game by Ellen Raskin
Cyrano de Bergerac by Edmond Rostand (I’ve told myself to read this “next month” at least 35 times since I finished Tom Jones in 2021)

Series

(sometimes I’d read them in order as a set, sometimes I’ll just pick up an individual installment)
Everyone’s favorite 5-part Trilogy, The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, by Douglas Adams (Towel Day is this weekend, readers beware)
Most Robert Crais books (nothing against the others, I just haven’t found the time for them yet)
The Fletch and Flynn series by Gregory Mcdonald–at least those written in the 1970s & 80s
The Spenser novels by Robert B. Parker–especially the first 20, but I’ve re-read them all.
Nero Wolfe/Archie Goodwin books by Rex  Stout (I’ve probably re-read portions of this series more than anything else on this list, actually, the whole response to this prompt should be about me talking about this series)

How about you, reader? Do you have favorites to revisit?

This prompt was submitted by Billy @ Coffee Addicted Writer:

Do you have enough shelves for all your books?

This is one of those very important questions that any book hoarder collector has to ask themselves regularly. Possibly frequently. As the meme says, it’s not a matter of too many books, it’s not enough shelves.

We have shelves in almost every room of the house–and one hallway. Some of these shelves could be replaced by taller versions. Some could be filled more efficiently/to greater capacity. Nevertheless, we’re running out of places for shelves. This is going to be a problem–possibly as soon as 2026.

But right now? I do happen to have enough space for my books and a little room to grow. This is not a phenomenon that I’m all that familiar with, honestly. But I’m enjoying it. There’s a bookcase that serves as my physical TBR stack (with a shelf of “you need to write about these soon”), a few Non-Fiction cases, more Fiction cases, a couple that are for my wife’s books, a little bench/shelf unit for the grandchildren’s books. The TBR unit is overflowing (sadly), the Non-Fiction has a little room for growth, the Fiction cases are really close to filling, but my wife’s cases are in real danger of hitting the limit. Oh, I’ve got a couple of those corner shelf units, too. They’re not bad, but not particularly large or helpful–I think I could fit a handful onto one of them. The grandchildren’s shelves are about half full–so that’s promising.

Okay, thinking about it in those terms make me think I have less breathing-room than I initially thought. 2026-me definitely has a problem, and had better start coming up with some solutions.

Remember, as the meme/tshirt/poster says:

How about you, reader? Do you have enough shelf space?