This week’s theme from That Artsy Reader Girl’s Top Ten Tuesday prompts is about the oldest books on your TBR: not the ones you’ve had the longest, but the ones which were published longest ago.

Mine’s not going to be 100% reflective of the oldest books I’m likely to read, because I only put books on my TBR on StoryGraph if I own them, and I’m likely to read old books through Serial Reader/Project Gutenberg and the library, on a whim, rather than add them to my backlog. A few years ago there’d have been a lot of works from, like, the 1500s or something, but that’s not really my field now and I read all the texts I was interested in back then. Sooo given my predilection for classic mysteries, my guess is that this entire list is going to be taken up with those…

Here we go; let’s see if I’m right!

1. Mr Pottermack’s Oversight, by R. Austin Freeman (1931). This is a classic mystery, reissued recently by the British Library Crime Classics series. I want to get around to it soon, because I rather liked Freeman’s The Eye of Osiris.
2. The Floating Admiral, by the Detection Club (1931). Also a classic mystery, this one written collaboratively by fourteen members of the famous Detection Club, a group of classic crime writers (which still exists today). The group includes Agatha Christie and Dorothy L. Sayers, so I’m definitely curious to read this one. It’s a bit gimmicky, though, so it’s not at the top of my list. I suspect it’ll be a bit of a mix in terms of quality/style.
3. Malice Aforethought, by Francis Iles (1931). I have a couple of others books by Iles/Anthony Berkeley hanging out among the oldest on my TBR, including Before the Fact (1932) and Jumping Jenny (1933). His books are huge classics of the genre and very influential, and I’ve really enjoyed some of them. That said, Iles/Berkeley could be rather misogynistic, and I haven’t felt like risking it yet with the ones that remain. It requires a certain mood and willingness to put up with it.
4. Death at Breakfast, by John Rhode (1935). John Rhode’s mysteries are always solid, workmanlike and enjoyable. They don’t generally have characters with huge personalities (even his series detective, Priestley, doesn’t really stand out in the way that, say, Christie’s Poirot does), and you basically know what you’re getting into, making them excellent comfort reading. I’ve been holding onto Death at Breakfast for the right moment for a while.
5. Murder in the Bookshop, by Carolyn Wells (1936). I really should get to this one, because I do love murder mysteries set in and around bookshops, libraries, museums, etc. I know very little about it or the author, as I don’t think I’ve read any of her other works.
6. Antidote to Venom, by Freeman Wills Crofts (1938). Crofts was really prolific, but I find his work kind of… unmemorable? And a little slow. Still, this one is in the British Library Crime Classics series, and I do want to get round to it.
7. Rocket to the Morgue, by Anthony Boucher (1942). This stands out from the group by being an American classic, and thus out of my usual wheelhouse. I spotted it in a local indie bookshop recently, though, and was curious about the title/cover. Once I read that it was based on Boucher’s experience of being a pulp sci-fi writer, the collision of genres I love made it seem like an excellent choice!
8. Death Knows No Calendar, by John Bude (1942). Bude is another of those classic mystery writers who will generally always write something solid and entertaining, without flair. You know what you’re getting into, and therein lies the pleasure.
9. The Sunday Pigeon Murders, by Craig Rice (1942). About this author and book I know virtually nothing; I got it as part of an “advent calendar” of classic mysteries, and haven’t got round to it yet.
10. Dramatic Murder, by Elizabeth Anthony (1948). This one’s a Christmas mystery, so I’m saving it for December — I actually only just got it last month, from my British Library Crime Classics subscription. As far as I know, the author is new to me, so I’m quite curious.

Aaand as predicted, it’s classic crime all the way down! I hadn’t realised I had so many hanging around unread, I’ll be honest. I tend to hoard them away from myself “for when I need them”, and then forget I have ’em stashed waiting for their moment.

Now might well be their moment, given my reading slump — where’s that copy of Death at Breakfast? When we move, I swear I’m designing the room layouts to include at least two entire floor-to-ceiling bookshelves for my classic crime collection, so I can keep them all in the same place…

Very curious to see everyone else’s lists!

Well folks, I’m writing from a hotel room at a friend’s wedding, and I haven’t talked enough about books yet (even though it was a very nerdy wedding). So, from my hotel room to all of you, here we go: this week’s theme is a Halloween freebie, and I’m here to tell you about books that have freaked me out…

1. Feed, by Mira Grant. When I first read it, it was before the point where I began to try to get curious about my fear of infectious disease, so it was a bit of an unexpected choice for me in many ways. When I initially read it, I didn’t love it — but I later read it again and again, liking it a bit more each time. I don’t think it still freaks me out in the same way, but the fear of infection which drives the story really got under my skin.
2. What Moves The Dead, by T. Kingfisher. This was a much more recent read, of course (just last week!), and I’m a lot more comfortable taking about diseases in general now than I was back then. Still, the fear of contamination drips off this story, and it was probably only Kingfisher’s skill as a writer that kept me reading this one.
3. Spillover, by David Quammen. I know, you probably weren’t expecting non-fiction on this list, but you might be recognising a theme about the things that scare me. I read this book when I was just beginning to see that my fears lessened if I got curious about the subject. It still freaked me out, but it also put me on the path I’m on now (final year of my MSc in Infectious Diseases!).
4. Heaven Official’s Blessing, by Mo Xiang Tong Xiu. Horror isn’t the primary genre of this book, for sure, and it’s not even one that I’d necessarily mention in talking about the book. But there are some genuinely freaky, gross and gory things here, like the buried head in Banyue (I’ll avoid describing anything too graphic and leave it at that: if you know, you know). The main character, Xie Lian, suffers some really horrendous things throughout, as well, some of which is horrifying to contemplate (for example being staked into a coffin, unable to die, for a century or two).
5. Leviathan’s Wake, by James S.A. Corey. This is more sci-fi than horror, especially the later books, but the first book in particular includes a lot of body horror.
6. Sleeping Giants, by Sylvain Neuvel. This one isn’t horror at all, but the moment where a guy has an accident and they use the excuse to turn his knees around so he can better pilot a massive alien mech is quite shocking, and it’s stuck with me ever since.
7. Catching Breath, by Kathryn Lougheed. Another non-fiction for you! I don’t think I was specifically interested in tuberculosis before I read this book, but ultimately I wrote my undergrad dissertation about tuberculosis, because Lougheed convinced me that we don’t pay it enough attention at all — and we should. Drug resistant tuberculosis is scarily hard to cure.
8. Brain on Fire, by Susannah Cahalan. Cahalan experienced a bizarre illness that appeared to be a mental breakdown, and turned out to be an infection. The idea of such a misdiagnosis is terrifying, and some of her early symptoms matched with some of my genuine anxiety symptoms, which was a whole weird thing. There’s a good chance inflammation (not necessarily triggered by infection, but sometimes — and probably more than we think) is actually causing mental illness in some cases (who knows how many). The things we don’t know about our brains definitely freak me out!
9. The End of Everything, by Katie Mack. Non-fiction about physics breaks my brain sometimes — contemplating the massive size of the universe makes me think a lot of stuff about my own significance, what I think happens when we die, etc, that is anxiety-fuelled in the worst way. Is this an obvious choice for a list of books that freaked me out? Nope, but you weren’t asking me to jumpscare you, just what jumpscared me. This was a good book in general — but a bad one for me.
10. He Who Whispers, by John Dickson Carr. There’s a particular scene in this one where I remember thinking, “dang, that’s actually creepy.” It’s a classic mystery — but a particular character is just twisted, in a way that surprised me very much as a first-time reader!

It’s an idiosyncratic list, but it’s mine!

This week’s Top Ten Tuesday prompt is about how your reading habits have changed over time, which is interesting to ponder.

1. I read a lot more non-fiction. It’s a shift I never expected, because I wasn’t that interested in non-fiction when I was younger, but year by year the percentage inches up. At the moment about a third of what I read is non-fiction.
2. I don’t really enjoy YA anymore. There’s a lot of good stuff out there and I might still give it a shot here and there, but many themes just don’t speak to me as much. And that’s fine: at this stage in my life, it’s definitely not aimed at me!
3. I don’t believe in “guilty pleasures”. I try not to value-judge any genre. Reading is meant to be fun, for me, not some kind of moral duty to read “improving” literature — or even stuff that is necessarily “good”.
4. I used to read straight through books more than I do now. Same with series. Part of that is the shift in genres: non-fiction, for example, can really benefit from taking a step back to let yourself sort through the information.
5. I used to reread books even more than I do now. These days I try not to read books too often, because then the gaps can start to show, or it just becomes too familiar-the same way you can autopilot through a familiar area when walking or driving.
6. I think I’m more influenced by other reviewers’ opinions than I used to be. If I loved a book that someone I trust hated, or vice versa, I worry that I’m being weird! I try to notice that feeling, but I’m sure it still affects me at times. Sometimes that’s a good thing, because it prompts me to think something through… but sometimes I don’t feel very in touch with what I enjoyed.
7. I probably read less than I did. In a way it’s not surprising — I’m not studying for a degree in English Lit anymore, and I’m both studying and have a full-time job. But it might be surprising to hear given how many books I do read!
8. I used to be quite picky about where I stopped reading: it had to be the end of a chapter, or at least a scene break. I know, this one’s a bit more niche and precise! But I really used to find it impossible to put down a book unless I was at a “good” stopping-point. I’m a lot more flexible now.
9. I don’t read in bed anymore. It’s bad sleep hygiene and also it’s not that comfy! I like to be sat upright, with my feet on something to bring my knees up closer to my chest.
10. I probably read shorter books these days. It’s an attention span thing, and also — no matter now I try to avoid this happening — a sense of pressure about completing reading goals, having reviews to post, etc.

Alright, that’s it for me for now — how about you?