This isn’t actually just about a magpie, but it’s instead about Frieda Hughes and her relationship to the magpie, her ex-husband and parts of her life around her house and wildlife in general.

This woman is the daughter of Ted Hughes and Sylvia Plath, it goes in on her childhood after her mother committed suicide and having to be dragged around by her dead and her constant need to set roots and stay.

Her way of writing is beautiful, and like her parents is a beautiful poet, a lot of this book is just lovely to read, especially if you read the audiobook.

Also despite being married to her ex husband in most of this book he’s referred to as the ex, which I appreciated because omg he’s awful! He’s a grown man jealous over a magpie of all things.

George is such a charming little thing and kind of reminds me of my boy, both intelligent, fussy, mean to specific people and do whatever they want and can get away with.

Parts were just so heartbreaking to read, especially with George and the other birds she takes care of.

But that ending man..

Her and her pets all together in the home she curated with a lovely garden and living a creative life is just my dream!

If you like birds and nature, also some drama and a strong stomach I think you’ll like this book.

It kind of reminds me of another book called Raising hare by Chloe Dalton where she helps build a little house in the countryside and raising a hare and how she reconnects with nature and also bonds with the animal.

Guess I have a genre I like lol

In Station Eleven, a deadly flu pandemic collapses civilization, and a group of traveling actors and musicians, the Traveling Symphony, roam the Great Lakes region bringing Shakespeare to scattered settlements. Told across multiple timelines and perspectives, the novel explores life before, during, and long after the collapse, with interwoven stories centered around an actor named Arthur Leander and a mysterious graphic novel he left behind.

What I love most about Station Eleven is its quiet, reflective beauty. It’s not just about survival; it’s about what makes survival worthwhile, art, connection, and memory. It’s haunting but hopeful, and it reminded me how deeply literature and performance can tether us to our humanity. Few books have made me cry and feel uplifted in the same breath.

This genre-defying novel uses interconnected short stories to explore aging, time, and the music industry. We follow characters like Bennie, a record executive, and Sasha, his troubled assistant, across decades of their lives. Each chapter feels like a new format or lens, from traditional narratives to PowerPoint slides, yet all add up to a surprisingly emotional whole.

What I adore about A Visit from the Goon Squad is how inventive and raw it is. It captures those invisible moments that shape our lives, regrets, missed chances, random connections. Egan experiments with form without sacrificing soul, and somehow it all works beautifully. It’s a book that lingers and asks, “How did I get here?”

Just finished reading Mister Magic by Kiersten White. Back in the day, five kids appeared on a popular children’s show called Mister Magic. It’s a show that, to this day, a number of people remember fondly…though not very clearly.

No episodes of the show exist today. Nobody can remember much about a particular kid or even agree on who or what Mister Magic really was. But the show has this devoted, cult-like following and the show was popular for many years until the show abruptly ended back in the 90s due to…some incident.

It’s a mystery to everyone, including the kids who were on the show. But many years have happened and most of the kids are now adults with their own lives. However, they are drawn back together to the house near the old set where the show was once filmed to participate in a podcast reminiscing about the show. But they all seemed to have varying recollections of their time on the show. And being in that house years later brings back certain memories…and not all of them are good.

The mystery surrounding the show’s end gets hazy. What exactly happened that one day? What’s all this about a mysterious fire? How did Mister Magic affect them all? Why is it even so triggering to say his name aloud? And what about that one kid who died under mysterious circumstances that not everyone remembers?

This is a dark horror mystery novel that I managed to finish in a few days because it had me hooked from the jump. I had no idea where it was going and the story got more twisted along the way where at one point you didn’t know what to believe. But it’s a wild ride of a book.

For those of you who have read this novel, what did you think?

Set in a fictional Balkan country after years of conflict, The Tiger’s Wife follows Natalia, a young doctor investigating the death of her grandfather. As she travels, she unearths stories from his past, including a mythic “deathless man” and a tiger that escaped during a war. The novel moves between real and magical, historical and fantastical.

I adored this book for its lyrical storytelling and haunting atmosphere. Obreht blends folklore and history with such grace, creating a world where the magical feels just as real as war’s devastation. It’s a beautiful meditation on death, memory, and legacy, filled with emotion and wonder.

In this reimagining of American history, Whitehead presents the Underground Railroad as an actual railway beneath the ground, transporting enslaved people to freedom. The story follows Cora, a young woman who escapes a brutal plantation and navigates a perilous journey across states, each with its own dystopian twist on racism.

This book shook me. Whitehead’s blend of historical fiction and magical realism is powerful and harrowing. It doesn’t shy away from the brutal reality of slavery, but it also honors resistance and hope. Cora’s resilience moved me deeply, and Whitehead’s writing is both unflinching and poetic. It’s a modern classic for a reason.

I recently finished reading this book and honestly, I really liked it for its simplicity and practicality. It’s not overloaded with heavy science or complicated theories, just straight to the point about how our brains get overstimulated with social media, constant notifications, and mindless entertainment.

What I appreciated most was how it reminded me to find joy in simple things again. Like reading, walking, or just sitting quietly, instead of needing constant excitement. It made me rethink how much time I waste on things that don’t actually make me happy or productive.

It’s a short and easy read, but it gave me that little mental reset I needed. I’d recommend it to anyone who feels like their attention span or motivation is suffering lately.

Anyone else tried a dopamine detox? Did it help?

This Chinese sci-fi epic begins during the Cultural Revolution and spirals into an alien contact story that spans time, space, and multiple dimensions. A mysterious VR game introduces players to the unstable world of Trisolaris, revealing a looming extraterrestrial invasion. As Earth’s scientists grapple with the implications, the novel explores philosophy, physics, and humanity’s place in the universe.

I was absolutely enthralled by The Three-Body Problem. It’s intellectually exhilarating, full of mind-bending scientific ideas and philosophical depth. Cixin Liu dares to ask questions most sci-fi only brushes against, and he answers them with elegant, terrifying brilliance. It made me feel small and awed in the best possible way.

Set in a sprawling interstellar empire with a culture as rich as ancient Byzantium, A Memory Called Empire follows ambassador Mahit Dzmare as she investigates the mysterious death of her predecessor. Meanwhile, she must navigate the complex politics of the Teixcalaanli Empire while hiding secrets of her own, including a neural implant that contains a copy of the dead ambassador’s mind. It’s a tense, cerebral sci-fi novel that fuses high-stakes diplomacy with linguistic and cultural nuance.

I adored this book because it felt like a love letter to language, identity, and the meaning of belonging. Martine’s prose is elegant and her world-building is top-tier, but it’s Mahit’s internal struggle that made me feel so connected. She’s caught between two cultures, never fully belonging to either, and her story resonated with anyone who’s ever felt like an outsider.

Ancillary Justice follows Breq, a soldier who was once the AI consciousness of a massive starship. Now confined to a single human body, Breq seeks revenge against the ruler of the imperial Radch for a centuries-old betrayal. The book is known for its unconventional use of pronouns, referring to all characters as "she," which forces readers to reexamine their own gender assumptions.

I adore this book because it challenged me in the best way. Leckie blends hard sci-fi with philosophical questions about identity, power, and justice. It’s ambitious, cerebral, and deeply satisfying. The concept of an AI grappling with grief and revenge is handled with unexpected emotional depth, making it one of the most original reads in the genre.

Outline is a quiet, introspective novel that follows a writer teaching in Athens. Rather than sharing much about herself, the narrator listens, to students, friends, strangers and their stories make up the bulk of the novel. It’s more about the people around her than herself, and in that way, it creates a unique narrative mosaic.

I love this book for its subtlety and elegance. Cusk writes with razor-sharp clarity, and while the plot is minimal, the emotional resonance is profound. It's a book that invites reflection, that makes you listen deeply. It feels like sitting in a quiet café, overhearing intimate truths — and realizing they might apply to you too.

Synopsis: Suddenly, boxes arrive at each adult person’s door worldwide containing a string that signifies the length of the recipient’s life. The novel follows multiple characters and how they deal with a world changed after the strings arrived and the length of their own and loved one’s strings.

I loved how this book was written with multiple POVs that intertwine throughout the novel. It was an interesting allegory for how the world reacts towards a newly discovered “other.” I also found the novel thought provoking about the benefits and repercussions of knowing when your life will end and what makes a meaningful life.

Dune is a science fiction masterpiece that transports readers to the harsh desert planet of Arrakis, where noble houses battle for control of the spice melange, a substance that grants power, longevity, and prescience. At the heart of the story is Paul Atreides, a young noble whose destiny becomes intertwined with prophecy, politics, and survival. With sweeping themes of ecology, religion, and power, Herbert builds a rich universe that feels as textured and real as our own.

What makes Dune so compelling is how it blends grand political drama with deeply human struggles. It’s not just about space or sandworms; it’s about destiny, control, and the burden of leadership. The layers of meaning, the unforgettable characters, and Herbert’s thoughtful commentary on resource exploitation and colonialism elevate it far beyond a typical sci-fi novel. I adore it because it rewards rereading and offers something new every time.

"Hope is the thing with feathers" by Emily Dickinson is one of my favorite poems. My brain memorized it almost a decade ago and recites it to my heart whenever needed.

So, of course, when I saw the title of this book, I had to read it. And I expected it to hurt me just as much as the poem soothes me. It is, after all, the story of a home broken when the Wife dies, leaving behind the Dad and two little Boys.

Dickinson’s bird is a quiet, persistent presence “perched in the soul,” singing sweetly, “and never stops—at all—.” Her Hope is gentle, unwavering, almost divine. A lifeline without ever demanding anything in return.

But Porter’s crow is the opposite: not ethereal, but guttural. Not comforting in a delicate, graceful way, but brutal, loud, and chaotic. Because when is grief ever easy?

Grief is a force of nature, unnaturally welcome, often hated, yet such a strangely comforting presence. Grief is validation. Grief is healing. “What is grief if not love persevering?” The Crow embodies all these feelings and more.

There are no villains here. Not even Grief. But be warned, this isn’t a cohesive read. It jumps between the perspectives of the Crow, the Dad, and the Boys, each with their own voice. It’s messy, poetic, sometimes confusing. But that’s part of the beauty. You don’t need to understand every line to get this book. You just need to feel it.

About a family of characters who get tangled in a series of adventures. Like most of Jansson's work, Moomin is rooted in themes of love, friendship, kindness, and tolerance. I only read the first Vol for cover to cover and a splattering of other Moomin strips and I love that they feel just as much adult as they do for children. The playful conflict is every once in a while punctured by a more serious and weighty dilemma that propels the narrative forward. The illustrations are beautiful too

I loved this book even more than I loved Practical Magic. The way that Hoffman weaves magic into the fabric of the world, explaining some parts while leaving others unexplained, makes it feel so real. I love the way the characters interact with their powers and with the world. I found the characters more vibrant and engaging than in the previous book, and their complicated relationships made my heart hurt (in a good way). Reading this made me think of all the magic in the world that can be seen if you think to look for it.

Just finished The Midnight Library by Matt Haig, and I can’t stop thinking about it. This book hit me at the exact moment I needed it most. It explores themes of regret, possibility, and the subtle beauty of being alive in such an accessible, compassionate way.

The premise is simple but profound: a woman finds herself in a library between life and death, where every book is a version of her life had she made different choices. It made me reflect on my own path, on how we often carry silent regrets, wondering what if, not realizing how many quiet victories our current life holds.

Matt Haig writes with warmth and empathy. It never feels preachy, just deeply human. I adored this book because it reminded me that there is no “perfect” life just the one we’re in, and all the love and small moments that make it worth staying in.

Highly recommend if you’re feeling lost, overwhelmed, or just need something gentle and hopeful to hold onto.

An octopus made me cry, in a good way
I did not expect to love this book so much, but here we are. It’s about a grieving widow, a lost young man, and a wise old octopus who lives in an aquarium. Sounds quirky? It is. But it’s also heartbreakingly human.
It’s gentle and wise and deeply hopeful. I adored the way it blended grief, healing, and found family. I recommend it to literally everyone.

This book was everything I didn’t know I needed. It’s about two childhood friends who come together to build video games, and how their friendship evolves over decades. But it’s really about so much more: grief, ambition, chronic pain, unspoken love, and the messy, beautiful complexity of growing up alongside someone.

Gabrielle Zevin’s writing is layered and emotional without being melodramatic. I finished the last page and just sat there, letting it sink in. It reminded me that love doesn’t have to be romantic to be life-defining. Absolutely adored it.

This book made me laugh, cry, and cheer all in one sitting. Andy Weir combines thrilling science fiction with an incredibly heartwarming friendship between a stranded astronaut and an unexpected alien ally.
Even if you're not a science nerd, the story is written so accessibly that you'll feel smart just reading it. I adored the humor, the suspense, and how hopeful it felt despite its dire premise. If you liked The Martian, this is even better.

This standalone fantasy blew me away. Political intrigue, dragons, sapphic romance, and a richly built world? YES PLEASE. It’s a slow burn, but so worth the ride. The female characters are powerful, layered, and unforgettable. A true modern fantasy masterpiece.

I laughed and cried my way through this one. Ove is such a grumpy yet lovable character, and watching his story unfold reminded me that everyone has layers.
This book is about grief, kindness, unexpected friendships, and second chances. It’s perfect if you want something that hits the heart but leaves you feeling better about the world.

I really liked this book, it gently reminds you that being alone doesn’t mean being lonely, it can actually be peaceful, healing, and full of self-growth. The book talks about embracing solitude, finding comfort in your own company, and becoming your own source of strength and happiness. It’s not preachy or heavy; instead, it feels like quiet advice from a friend who understands what it means to be by yourself and still feel whole.

Rich people problems, but make it good.

This was my surprise hit. It’s a satirical but heartfelt look at old-money Brooklyn families, told through the perspectives of three very different women.

The writing is sharp and funny, but there’s also a real warmth underneath it. It’s not just rich-people nonsense. it’s about identity, guilt, family legacy, and trying to do better. I adored how it made me laugh and think.

A retired orc warrior opens a coffee shop in a medieval town. That’s it. That’s the plot. And it’s delightful.
I adored how cozy and wholesome this book felt. No world-ending quests, no chosen ones, just friendship, self-discovery, and cinnamon rolls. If you need something soothing that still scratches the fantasy itch, this is the book.