Everything I Read in January

On already being burnt out in January and reading barely anything...

I was hoping to start the year off strong with reading but to be honest as soon as I went back to work after Christmas I was burnt out. The past two weeks I have really been struggling to balance work, revision, writing, reading and just life. I leave my house at 7 each day and don’t really get home until 7 or sometimes 8 everyday. To be honest the problem is work and the commute. The communication in my team is dreadful at the moment and then feeling frustrated by sitting in 1+ hour traffic to and from work just makes the worst combination. I hope to feed this back to my manager but will I be listened to. Do managers ever listen?

For me the priority right now is revision as my exam is at the end of March and I don’t want to fail because it’ll look bad on me! And then it is writing. I want to stay consistent and I want to grow. So reading, despite being directly linked to my writing, falls to the back of the list. I slip into bed and try to read at like 10 pm but eyes are already closing after a busy day at work.

Anyway I am sure you are here to read about my January reads so I will not bore you with my sad life and corporate frustrations!

I did manage to read 5 books (most of them short) and a tiny bit of that one big classic. In total that was 1649 pages and on average 11 days for a book (which is too long for me!) And to reflect that mood, my most read theme was dark! If you want to see my reading journey throughout the month, be sure to add me on storygraph (a better alternative to goodreads!)

Myth of Sisphyus, Albert Camus

I picked this one up for my Camus article.I had read Camus’ fiction—The Outsider—a while back, but despite doing a philosophy degree, I had never really engaged with his actual philosophical ideas. I knew he was generally linked to Sartre, but The Myth of Sisyphus was my first real encounter with his existentialist (or, more accurately, absurdist) thought. I read this alongside a few critical pieces, and it was definitely enlightening.

Camus explores the idea of the absurd—how humans search for meaning in a world that offers none—and whether this realisation should lead to despair or something else. Using the Greek myth of Sisyphus, condemned to roll a boulder up a hill for eternity, he argues that acknowledging absurdity doesn’t have to result in nihilism but can instead be met with defiance and even joy. The key takeaway? One must imagine Sisyphus happy.

I liked Camus’ writing. It wasn’t obnoxious or deliberately dense like some philosophers (cough cough Kant and Hegel). It was repetitive at times, but in a way that reinforced his argument rather than dragging it down. What I appreciated most was how he took a stance on modernity and the search for meaning without outright discrediting religion or other belief systems—his argument feels expansive rather than dismissive.

It’s hard to review a non-fiction piece, and I don’t rate them, but if you’re interested in philosophy, this is absolutely worth a read. It’s accessible, thought-provoking, and has some great literary undertones that make it engaging beyond just the philosophy itself.

Some quotes I liked from this one include:

‘Solely the balance between evidence and lyricism can allow us to achieve simultaneously emotion and lucidity.’

‘It is confessing that life is too much for you or that you do not understand it.’

‘Living, naturally, is never easy.’

‘We get into the habit of living before acquiring the habit of thinking.’

‘But what is absurd is the confrontation of the irrational and the wild longing for clarity whose call echoes in the human heart.’

Post-Traumatic, Chantal V. Johnson (3.5/5.0)

I saw someone recommend this on Instagram (I think?), and I was intrigued by the title more than anything. I deal with health applications daily, and so many people disclose PTSD, but just using post-traumatic as a phrase felt different—almost stripped of its clinical weight. So I added it to my TBR, and it ended up being my first read of 2025 (oops, I just wrote 2024!).

The novel follows Vivian, a lawyer and survivor of childhood abuse, as she moves through the world with a mix of self-awareness, detachment, and dry humor. On paper, she’s successful, but internally, she’s constantly negotiating the effects of trauma, struggling with intimacy, and dissecting every social interaction. The book leans heavily on her inner monologue, which could have been exhausting in a different writer’s hands, but Johnson keeps it sharp, layered, and often darkly funny. Despite Vivian’s flaws and spiralling thought patterns, she never becomes irritating or overdone—she’s rational in her own way, and that’s what makes her compelling.

What lowered my rating was the ending. I don’t mind ambiguity or open-endedness, but I struggle when a book starts unraveling into absurdity. I need something to feel resolute—either a clear-cut ending or a well-done cliffhanger, but this felt like neither.

That being said, there are some great ideas here, and Johnson’s writing delivers. It’s undeniably postmodern in its approach—fragmented, self-aware, and unafraid to sit in the discomfort of its themes. A solid read, even if the ending didn’t quite land for me.

Here are some of the quotes I picked out from the novel and I’m going to do a quotation study on Post-Traumatic on Wednesday:

‘Vivian had always wanted to play an instrument but, due to poverty and caretakers who didn’t understand the value of a musical education, she’d been deprived of lessons.’

“I like being with an artist, someone who actually acts on her ideas.”

‘You can’t bake away the stresses of modern life.’

‘I am part of the civic fabric and do not reside on the internet, she thought’

“Medication is the new lobotomy!”

‘Everyone’s family drives them crazy—that’s why therapy is a multibillion-dollar industry.’

‘I’m very judgmental, you know, I don’t like it when people fail, mistakes embarrass me.’

The Trunk, Kim Ryeo-ryeong (3.0/5.0)

I had been seeing this one everywhere recently and had high expectations—it seemed like the kind of book that could become a new favourite. But in the end, I was left feeling a bit short-changed.

The Trunk is a South Korean novel centred around a narrator who works for a company that essentially rents out wives for a year. No more, no less—unless complications arise. The novel serves as a commentary on the state of marriage in South Korea today, blending feminist satire with a tone that sometimes veers into dystopian territory. On paper, this sounded like exactly the kind of thing I’d love, but something about it just didn’t land for me.

The concept itself was intriguing, but it didn’t feel entirely fresh. Maybe it’s because I’m not South Korean, and I don’t have firsthand experience of the cultural context that makes this premise hit harder. Marriage, relationships, and societal expectations develop differently across countries, and while I could appreciate what the book was doing, I didn’t feel deeply connected to it.

That said, I can see why it’s resonating with so many readers. It’s sharp in its critique, and there are definitely moments that stand out. It just didn’t have the impact I was hoping for.

That being said it was still enjoyable and there were some interesting quotes:

‘I had to report to her from time to time, in small doses, so that I could avoid being summoned too frequently.’

‘In our family, you could do nothing at all but still feel exhausted. I felt my eyes start to droop.’

“I like the cherry blossom Christmas tree. Did you decorate it yourself?”

Human Acts, Han Kang (4.0/5.0)

Although that being said, Human Acts was a South Korean novel I did feel strongly connected to.

The novel explores the aftermath of the 1980 Gwangju Uprising in South Korea, a pro-democracy protest that was brutally suppressed by the government. The novel is structured as a series of interconnected narratives, each told from a different perspective—ranging from a young boy searching for his friend’s body to an editor revisiting the trauma years later.

While I’m not from South Korea and haven’t experienced an uprising myself (I was too young to feel the impact of the riots here), I think the novel taps into some deeper, more universal themes that feel especially complex and nuanced. The way it captures grief and historical trauma is powerful, and the brief glimpses into each character’s perspective leave you wondering what became of them in the end.

This was my second novel by Kang, behind The Vegetarian (which I was underwhelmed by but wonder if I should try again). Since her Nobel prize earlier this year I am probably going to read a work of hers a month until I complete her discography.

Here are some quotes that stuck out for me:

‘No one had ever taught me how to address a person’s soul.’

‘It was then I realized that what had been binding us to this place was none other than that flesh, that hair, those muscles, those organs. The magnetic force holding us to our bodies rapidly began to lose its strength.’

‘Yet Eun-sook herself wanted nothing more than to speed up the aging process. She wanted this damned, dreary life not to drag on too long.’

‘She had no faith in humanity. The look in someone’s eyes, the beliefs they espoused, the eloquence with which they did so, were, she knew, no guarantee of anything. She knew that the only life left to her was one hemmed in by niggling doubts and cold questions.’

A Court of Mist and Fury, Sarah J Mass (4.0/5.0)

Okay, I love this series. I’m sorry. It’s enjoyable, it’s easy to read, and it’s exactly what I want right now. So I’ll be continuing with a book from the series each month just to escape from the world for a bit.

A Court of Mist and Fury picks up where A Court of Thorns and Roses left off, but it shifts the tone and stakes significantly. Feyre, now dealing with the trauma of what happened Under the Mountain, finds herself drawn into the politics and power struggles of the Night Court. The romance, the action, the drama—it’s all dialed up, and I get why this book is a fan favorite.

What I admire about fantasy—especially as someone who hasn’t read much of it—is the sheer level of world-building. The political dynamics, the histories, the layers of power at play—it takes real skill to craft something that feels immersive. I give full credit to authors who can build such intricate universes. I have a whole little world in my head, but it’s nowhere near as developed or structured as what’s on the page here.

This series is pure escapism, and I love that for me at the moment.

There were also some quotes I enjoyed this month:

‘Without magic, without power, money has become the only thing that matters.’

‘There is the darkness of lovers, and the darkness of assassins. It becomes what the bearer wishes it to be, needs it to be. It is not wholly bad or good.’

“So I’m your huntress and thief?” His hands slid down to cup the backs of my knees as he said with a roguish grin, “You are my salvation, Feyre.”

War and Peace, Leo Tolstoy

I started off strong, making decent progress through this absolute beast of a book, but by the 10th of January, I kind of just… forgot to pick it back up. So, as it stands, I’m on Chapter 5—a whopping 2% in! I’m hoping to read a lot more next month, maybe even set a page goal in my habit tracker to keep myself accountable.

That said, I’ve enjoyed every single word I’ve read so far. Tolstoy’s writing has a flow to it that made Anna Karenina feel surprisingly effortless, and War and Peace already has that same effect. The characters—despite the challenge of keeping track of similar names—are vivid, and the dialogue is exactly the kind of thing I love. So I know that if I actually carve out the time, I’ll get through this without much struggle.

I have no doubt that, once finished, this will be a high 4- or 5-star read. It’s just a matter of getting there!

Here’s the one quote I have plucked out from the novel so far:

‘How can one feel well when one if … suffering in a moral sense? Can any sensitive person find peace of mind?’

The books I did not get around to

Out of my ambitious TBR here are the books I did not get around to for no particular reason besides lacking time with my job and writing on here:

1. A Certain Hunger, Chelsea G. Summers

2. Earthlings, Sayaka, Murata

3. Ms Ice Sandwich, Mieko Kawakami

What I would like to read in February

Here is my unrealistic tbr for February:

1. War and Peace, Leo Tolstoy (continue to make my way through this!)

2. A Court of Wings and Ruin, Sarah. J. Maas

3. A Certain Hunger, Chelsea G. Summers

4. Earthlings, Sayaka, Murata

5. Ms Ice Sandwich, Mieko Kawakami

6. Salt Slow, Julia Armfield

7. The White Book, Hang Kang

8. Parade, Rachel Cusk

9. The City and It’s Uncertain Walls, Haruki Murakami

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