January Reads: A Slow Month

January reading happens under strange conditions. The light is thin. The nights are long. And when I’m deep in a manuscript, I read the way a witch reads signs—carefully, skeptically, looking for truth beneath the surface.

This was not a month of comfort reading. It was a month of assessment. Of watching how stories are built, where they falter, and whether they keep their promises. Some books offered momentum. Some offered meaning. One offered what can only be described as literary endurance training.

So while this list is shorter than usual, every book was weighed—not just as a reader, but as a writer asking the oldest question there is: Does the magic hold?

The Books

Moby Dick progress

In my January 15 post,  I declared reading Moby-Dick a 2026 goal. Despite being an English major, I somehow never managed to read it. I even took a class on Melville to force the issue—but alas, the professor focused on his shorter works that semester.

I’m not getting any younger. If I’m going to read Moby-Dick, 2026 is the year.

So, how am I doing at the end of January?

I've read 23 out of 135 chapters.

Am I convinced it’s The Great American Novel? Not yet. As my friend Muse so aptly put it, Moby-Dick often feels like “assigned trauma”—not challenging, but actively hostile to the reader.

And yet… I persevere.

Reading Moby-Dick as a writer is a fascinating exercise in endurance and intention. Melville is doing something very specific—world-building through obsession—but at the cost of real momentum. It’s a reminder that ambition alone doesn’t guarantee accessibility, and that even masterpieces ask something of their readers in return.

The House Maid

A woman takes a job as a maid in a wealthy family’s home, only to find herself entangled in dark secrets and dangerous games.

Confession: I bought—and devoured—this book after reading a review of the movie. I regret nothing.

While I may not agree with the 63% of readers who gave it five stars, it was a solid four for me. It’s an engaging, addictive psychological thriller. Fast-paced, compulsively readable, and twisty enough to keep me hooked, I finished it in two days. The plot twist genuinely surprised me, which is no small feat.

It's a perfect winter read for when it’s cold outside, and the world slows down for a week or two.

From a craft perspective, this book is a masterclass in pacing. Every chapter is engineered to pull you forward, even when the prose itself is workmanlike. It’s a useful reminder that momentum is a form of generosity to the reader.

Thirty, Flirty, and Forever Alone

27 Dresses meets Crazy Ex-Girlfriend in this rom-com with a magical twist. When your name literally means “forever alone,” it takes a lot of positive self-talk to stay optimistic in the hellscape that is modern dating. On the cusp of thirty, Rikki Romona is determined to find her person.

Unfortunately, determination alone doesn’t carry a book. As a writer, I’m always willing to give a book time to find its footing—but this one never made the implicit promise that the journey would be worth the investment.

I bowed out around the 25% mark. Life is short, and my TBR is long.

Change of Heart

Can we save ourselves, or do we rely on others to do it? Is what we believe always the truth? Would you give up vengeance against someone you hate if it meant saving someone you love?

A convicted murderer on death row learns that the sister of the young girl he was accused of murdering needs a heart transplant. He tells his spiritual advisor that he wants to donate his heart to her. Enter an ACLU attorney who sees the case as a potential stand against the death penalty.

This is a heart-wrenching, thought-provoking novel that grapples with religion, miracles, motherhood, friendship, and capital punishment—a tall order that Picoult pulls off with skill and emotional intelligence. These characters linger long after the final page.

Picoult excels at anchoring big moral questions in intimate human stakes, something I deeply admire as a novelist. This is the kind of book that reminds you why emotional authenticity matters more than cleverness.

Famous Once

Former supermodel Astrid Lane now lives a quiet life as a caterer, far removed from her past as the famous wife of rock star Callum Blake. When a retrospective on the 1970s music scene reignites interest in that era, a semi-estranged mother and daughter are drawn back together.

The best thing I can say about this story is that it was short—and conveniently available when I needed something to read before bed.

The premise intrigued me enough to select it as one of my January First Reads, but the execution never went deep. Short stories demand ruthless precision, and from a writer’s perspective, this one simply didn’t make enough use of its limited space. The emotional beats were sketched, not earned. Astrid is an interesting character, but after some obligatory name-dropping of people, places, and events, I never truly felt immersed in the era — despite having lived through it.

The ending felt rushed and unsatisfying, leaving the story shallow where it needed depth.

Until Next Time. . .

Reading and writing are not separate practices; they’re two ends of the same spell. What I read shapes what I write, and what I write sharpens how I read. Some books this month fed the fire. Some warned me where not to step. One simply tested my stamina and my will.

January may have been a quiet month on the page, but it was not an idle one. The work continues. The words are gathering. And like all good magic, what looks slow from the outside is often doing its most important work beneath the surface.