Reading Room

Books that changed the furniture of my mind

Not reviews — notes from someone still learning how to read.

A well-loved corner bookshelf with stacked novels and reading notebooks
The studio shelf — one book at a time, always.
Reading chair with open novel and afternoon light

Fiction · Second read

A novel that waited for me to grow up

I first read this slim novel at twenty-two, admired the sentences, and missed the point entirely. The plot follows a daughter caring for an ageing parent — material I filed under "later life problems" and set aside without empathy.

Read full post
Book resting on a park bench after a reading walk

Essays · In progress

On walking as a form of reading

Collection of essays by a writer who measures cities in kilometres walked rather than landmarks checked off. I am working through it slowly — one essay per week, usually after circling Ann Siang Hill.

Read full post
Stack of books with one spine facing out on a wooden table

Honesty shelf

Books I abandoned without guilt

Life is short; pretence is tiring. I stopped three books this month — one because the prose performed cleverness without warmth, one because the subject deserved better research, one because I recognised my own argument and grew bored hearing it echoed.

Read full post

Journal entries about reading days live in the journal. Longer thoughts arrive as letters.