Top Ten Tuesday has moved homes! You can now find it at That Artsy Reader Girl‘s blog. Since I did want to post something about this topic — “bookish resolutions/goals” — I thought I’d join in again, at least for this week!

1. Read for joy. I still keep on reading books I think I “ought” to read, or picking up something from my backlog just because I was interested in it once and I no longer am. There’s space for that, when it’s a topic I want to learn about or something I’d like to comment on, but this year my resolution is definitely to read primarily for joy.
2. Write reviews within 24 hours of finishing the book. I used to do this, and then I fell into bad habits. No more writing of vague reviews because the book didn’t leave much of an impression and it’s been three weeks…
3. Keep up my practice of commenting on at least one other blog per day. I’ve been doing this almost every day for two years now, and it might not be ideal for my reading list — argh, so many books I want — but it’s a great way to keep in touch with other bloggers.
4. Earn my book purchases. Me and my wife have a system we call “Adulting: The Game”. We get stars for stuff we do towards various goals like keeping up with chores, eating more healthily, keeping up with class, taking care of our finances… I get to buy one book per twenty stars I earn. (But it’s okay for me to use Amazon vouchers, etc; that counts as gifts.)
5. Read from my backlog. Last year’s goal was 200, and I didn’t make it. This year… we’ll see. But I’m doing well so far, with eight of the ten books I’ve read being from my backlog.
6. Catch up with ARCs. I’m going to try to stop looking at Netgalley and requesting stuff. Of course, that’s partly fuelled by the fact that I can only “wish for” books from a lot of publishers on Netgalley now, but it’s also because I have one heckuva backlog there.
7. Give up on Goodreads. I used Goodreads to catalogue my books for years, but now I’m just using it as a way to get some book recommendations from reviewers I’ve known for years and to post my own reviews for them. Gone are the days of making any obsessive searches to get all my lists to agree.
8. Reread when I want. This kind of goes with “read for joy” — I love to reread, but I haven’t been doing it as much as I’d like because I feel like I should only be providing “fresh” content for my readers. Pffft, half the time people don’t even know that I’ve posted a review for a particular book before; there’s no drop in interest for my reviews of books I’ve reread. I think enthusiasm is more valuable to readers anyway.
9. Go to bed a little earlier than necessary to get in some time to read. Or, as me and my wife put it, “bookbed”. We did that a lot before Christmas, and it was nice. Time to resurrect it, if only because it’s entertaining to watch Lisa gasp and cuss as she reads James S.A. Corey’s books.
10. Read things that scare me. Whether that’s reading books about bugs, physics that turns my brain inside out, or just massive fantasy tomes that would squash my bunnies flat if I dropped them, it’s always good to challenge yourself. There’s a big place for comfort and familiarity in my reading repertoire, but it’s also important to step into the unknown.

So what’re your resolutions?

It’s been a while since I participated in Top Ten Tuesday, but I always planned to do so again if any of the themes caught my attention and this one did. I’m not American, so Thanksgiving as a holiday isn’t my thing, but there’s always space for thanksgiving as far as I can see. Without further ado, here are the books I’m grateful for.

1. The Goblin Emperor, by Katherine Addison. I bet everyone could’ve predicted this one would make my list. It’s just a piece of hope and goodness in a world all too full of grimdark fiction and grimdark politics. It makes me happy, and it’s so clever too with the use of language and worldbuilding.
2. The Dark is Rising, by Susan Cooper. I think I’ve actually finally got to the point where I know these books too well to read them again any time soon, but for the joy they’ve inspired, the bookish conversations, the gifts they’ve enabled me to give, and my fascination with Old English (from the simple line “liht mec heht gewyrcan”, inscribed on one of the Six Signs)… so many reasons to give thanks.
3. The Summer Tree, by Guy Gavriel Kay. Not only do I love this book and the rest of the trilogy, but everything by Guy Gavriel Kay I’ve read since. The friend who gave me it hasn’t spoken to me in years, but his influence lingers in my love of Guy Gavriel Kay and Firefly.
4. Tales of Bold Adventure, by Enid Blyton. I know, I know, Enid Blyton. But I inherited two copies of this, both obviously well-read — one from my mum, and one from my dad! Reading about Robin Hood and King Arthur was totally formative for me, as the course of my first degree demonstrated.
5. Cat and Mouse and the Dinosaurs, by Graham Round and Ray Gibson. Without these books, I wouldn’t be a reader. I was refusing to learn to read, until my mother brought these into my life…
6. Spillover, by David Quammen. For igniting my curiosity about infectious diseases at least as much as it scared me, all the thanks in the world. I probably wouldn’t be so fascinated by microbiology now if it weren’t for this book.
7. Tutankhamen, by Christiane Desroches-Noblecourt. As a kid, this was my gateway to wonder — an exhaustive description of everything found in Tutankhamen’s tomb. This too was formative for me.
8. Century Rain, by Alastair Reynolds. I rather enjoyed it, but this one I’m thankful to for another reason: it got my sister interested in reading again after years of disinterest. She sat on my floor for hours on end, captivated, when I first lent her a copy. Now she might not be quite as voracious a reader as me, but she’s pretty darn voracious, and Century Rain was the gateway.
9. A Wizard of Earthsea, by Ursula Le Guin. This book has been a source of enchantment for years and years, and my understanding and interpretation of it has grown with me. If I haven’t written up how I relate to Ged’s journey now as someone who suffers with anxiety, I really should.
10. The Lord of the Rings, by J.R.R. Tolkien. For simple hours of enjoyment alone, this book deserves thanks. But also for a really fascinating semester of my Master’s degree, studying it, and for time spent listening to the radioplay with my grandma and my sister, and all the discussions and thinky thoughts it opens the door to.

And that’s it for the list, though honestly all books get my earnest thanks for giving me another, safer world to live in at times.

This week’s Top Ten Tuesday is gleaned from the old prompts on the page. Here’s ten books I was forced to read — which I loved! I’ve a vague feeling I’ve done this before, but I can’t find it by searching back, so why not?

1. To Kill a Mockingbird, by Harper Lee. It’s a classic, of course.
2. War and Peace, by Leo Tolstoy. I even had to read it in a week, thanks to a dare with my dad.
3. Jane Eyre, by Charlotte Bronte. I didn’t get far with this when I tried to read this as a kid, but when I finally had to read it for school, I fell in love.
4. Troilus and Criseyde, by Geoffrey Chaucer. I didn’t have high hopes for this because I wasn’t a fan of The Canterbury Tales, in general. But I really got into dissecting it, in the end.
5. Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. Is this cheating? I read a translation, of course, but I had to read it in the Middle English for my BA, and that was revelatory. The playing with language is gorgeous.
6. The French Lieutenant’s Woman, by John Fowles. In style and content it’s not at all what you’d expect me to enjoy, but I really did.
7. Postcolonialism Revisited, by Kirsti Bohata. I was never much of a fan of actually reading theory, in my lit degrees, preferring to closely analyse the texts. But this was pretty revelatory, discussing Welsh fiction as postcolonial fiction — because in many ways, the Welsh experience was like that of colonialism.
8. Richard III, by William Shakespeare. I was never a fan of Shakespeare, but I ended up having to take a class on his history plays for lack of other modules that interested me. And I loved this one.
9. Country Dance, by Margiad Evans. Or indeed, all the other Welsh fiction I read for that particular class. I’d never even been fully aware there was Welsh fiction like this out there.
10. The Annotated Hobbit, by J.R.R. Tolkien et al. I love The Hobbit, of course, but I’m not really a fan of annotated texts. Still, the annotated version of The Hobbit was fascinating for its insights on Tolkien’s process.

There’s probably dozens of others I should think of — at one point, my mother bought me a whole bunch of classics she said I had to read before I went to university, for example! (She wasn’t wrong in suggesting they were important to know. Should’ve included more Oscar Wilde, though, Mum, and insisted I read more Shakespeare. Now you know!)

There’s still no official theme from The Broke and the Bookish, so this TTT is again of my own devising. This time I’m going to look at bookshops I have loved!

1. Waterstones (Wakefield). I’ve had plenty of nice chats with the people working there, and some of the same people still work there from when I was a kid. They’ve held some great events — I attended a talk by Robin Hobb back when Fool’s Fate came out, for example — and though the shop is a little small for my tastes, the SF/F section has typically been good enough that I can find what I want.
2. Waterstones (Manchester). One of the biggest bookshops in the north of England, I think? Nice little cafe, and so many books. And they have baskets you can grab at convenient intervals, which is useful because I’ve never got out of there without needing a shopping basket. A really great non-fic selection as well as a good amount of SF/F.
3. Paramount Books (Manchester). When I last went, it was still tiny and inaccessible for someone in a wheelchair or possibly even on crutches, but it was a great place to browse, with all kinds of second hand books.
4. Hatchard’s St Pancras (London). I’m not a huge fan of their fiction section, which isn’t divided up into genres. They have some SF/F books, but it’s not always easy to pick them out. I love how convenient it is to drop in on my way to or from the Eurostar, though, and their non-fiction section has pretty much always been worth the browsing.
5. Forbidden Planet (London). Signed books, American books, new releases… I’m not sure what I haven’t been able to find there. And even though it’s Forbidden Planet, I don’t just mean comics. They have a great selection of SF/F books, and I’ve seen some really good bargains there as well.
6. Wellfield Bookshop (Cardiff). It might be small, but I always felt at home there and perfectly welcome to browse. They’re very helpful and would always offer to order in anything I wanted.
7. Sterling Books (Brussels). They’ve moved to a smaller location, which is a crime as far as I’m concerned, but they still have a reasonably good selection of English books, both fiction and non-fiction. Also, free bookmarks!
8. Chapters (Dublin). New and used books, and tons of them. The staff weren’t the friendliest, but the selection more than made up for it.
9. Fair’s Fair (Calgary). They have a couple of stores, and nearly all of them contained some delights for me. Seriously recommended, if you’re in Calgary.
10. Troutmark Books (Cardiff). A treasure trove to me when I was a student — and apparently served my grampy with bags of books before me. It’s conveniently in the centre of Cardiff, and too many people miss it because it’s tucked away in one of the arcades. Well worth going to — great selection and great pricing.

That’s not all of the bookshops I’ve ever loved, of course, but I thought I’d share a little bit of the joy!

There’s still no official theme, so this week I’m going to take a chance on being curmudgeonly. Here’s ten things that annoy me about being a book blogger!

1. When people don’t comment back, ever. Sometimes, there just isn’t something that they want to comment on, or they’re too busy for a week or two. I totally get that. But if they never drop by in return, it feels totally one-sided — like I’m a number that helps them get ARCs or whatever, but they’re not willing to put in any effort to make a real link between us.
2. When people comment without reading. I know that when it’s a big link-up like Stacking the Shelves or whatever, people mostly drop by to get visits in return, so they often copy/paste “looks like a great haul!” and a link to their own post. Or “looks like you got a ton of books!” I can get that, but I wish people would put at least a little effort in — don’t tell me I got a ton of books when the text of the post says clearly that those are the books I read this week. I always try to say something about the books they’ve got, or the life updates in their post!
3. Snobbery. It’s okay to have reading preferences, obviously, and even to comment about why you don’t enjoy x or y. But if you’re only coming by to link your blog, and you say things like “I never read fantasy, it’s all too childish”… well, it doesn’t sound good (and you look silly, since there’s a ton of adult fantasy).
4. Spam. Why do I get so much spam?! The number one target review seems to be one of my Susanna Kearsley reviews, and I don’t get it at all.
5. When I get spammed by my own copy. I mean, I’m a copywriter. It makes sense that sometimes I might run into stuff I wrote the advertising for. But it just feels beyond rude when it shows up in the comment spam on my WordPress. One, hey! I didn’t write that for you to spam with! And two, oi, spam filter — are you saying my writing looks like spam?! And three, this is a book blog, so why are you targeting it with copy about picture frames and saving whales?
6. People making assumptions. When a blogger assumes I’m not a writer, or I don’t read x genre, or that I’m a certain age… Don’t assume, guys, you know who it makes an ass out of.
7. “I prefer real books.” Ebooks are real. They’re different, and maybe they don’t work for you, but hey. Ereaders help all kinds of people for all kinds of reasons.
8. People who openly tell authors they’ve pirated their books. Why? Why would you do that? Authors have a right to earn a living, and “exposure” doesn’t pay for food.
9. People tagging authors in bad reviews. Unless there’s some prior relationship there or the critique is something they might benefit from, why would you do that? And don’t do that even given that if the person who wrote the review doesn’t say it’s okay. Some people don’t want to interact with the author.
10. Authors commenting on my reviews of their book to argue with me. Most often, it’s male science writers who feel the desperate need to tell me I’m wrong about their book, so you’ll have to excuse the sinking feeling I get when I realise a given comment is from an author. I’ve had some great interactions with authors I’ve critiqued — Tony Hays, author of The Killing Way and the rest of that series, would be one example. But mostly it just doesn’t work out.

I’m sure that I could be hoist by my own petard for some of these, because I can be a cranky snob as much as anyone. I try and keep a lid on it, though.

What’re your pet peeves?

There’s still no official themes from The Broke and the Bookish, so this week I’m going to cover rereads — the books that, for me, have been tested to destruction. Not all of them are books I love right now; some are books I read to bits as a kid (and which I should maybe look at reading again?).

1. The Eagle of the Ninth, by Rosemary Sutcliff. This used to be a favourite. It’s still a book I love very much, if not a favourite exactly. I just love the way Sutcliff took a real weird event (the discovery of a Roman Eagle) and wove a story around it.
2. The Lord of the Rings, by J.R.R. Tolkien. Well, of course. What else did you expect, from me?
3. Strong Poison, by Dorothy L. Sayers. If Sayers’ writing ever gets old for me, that’s when I’m done living, I think.
4. The Goblin Emperor, by Katherine Addison. The most recent addition to the list, but one I’m confident will stick around. I just… I love pretty much everything about it.
5. The Winter King, by Bernard Cornwell. This is probably the only portrayal of Galahad I’ve ever loved, and sadly you don’t see many Galahads like him. Arthur’s pretty great, too, and it all feels… real and possible. A great interpretation of the Arthurian myth, even if sometimes it stretches.
6. The Dark is Rising, by Susan Cooper. I didn’t actually read this as a child — I was probably 16 when I finally read it. But the BBC audio adaptation was seriously formative.
7. The Positronic Man, by Isaac Asimov and Robert Silverberg. I think my copy has vanished again, but when I was about nine or ten, I had a copy out of the library (on my mother’s library card, because they wouldn’t let me borrow adult books). I think the fine I ran up with this book alone had to be the worst I’ve ever incurred — and I got some pretty steep ones as a student.
8. The Secret Garden, by Frances Hodgson Burnett. Oh my goodness, I read at least two copies to death.
9. The Railway Children, by Edith Nesbit. Also this one. It made me briefly consider watching trains as a child, one boring summer. Of course, the lack of train tracks anywhere too nearby put a damper on that.
10. The Summer Tree, by Guy Gavriel Kay. In fact, pretty much everything by Guy Gavriel Kay, since I’m a glutton for punishment, apparently.

So what about you? What do you read and read and reread?

There’s no official Top Ten Tuesday theme this week, but I thought I’d post something anyway. Here’s ten things I need to know about people I like (and their books).

1. Can you name a favourite? It doesn’t matter if you can or can’t, but one hopes you know the answer! I can’t, but if I was pressed I’d name The Goblin Emperor as one of my favourite recent books, and The Lord of the Rings or The Grey King for an older one.
2. Do you dog-ear pages, use a bookmark, or just remember the page number? I’m not a fan of dog-earing, myself. I use bookmarks — more than one, usually. (Where I’ve read up to, and where I’d like to get to before I put the book down next.)
3. Do you bend the spines, or keep your books pristine? Honestly, there’s arguments on both sides. I keep a lot of my books pristine, but there are some old beloved copies that aren’t.
4. Do you buy second-hand books? Possibly you’d think I don’t, given that I do like to keep many of my books pristine. But actually, I don’t care as long as it’s consistent. Don’t bend just half the spine, ugh.
5. What genre do you read? I’m pretty eclectic, myself, so I’ll often know at least some books in common with anybody. This just gives me a direction!
6. Do you use the library? I love libraries, having volunteered in one myself and used them as a lifeline at times.
7. Do you buy books at all? Some people only use libraries, and I don’t get that. I’m too impatient for new books!
8. Do you believe that there are books everyone should read? Not actually sure where I stand on that; we could have a good chat about it. I think there are books that help you understand the world better — the Bible is so influential, for example; Shakespeare, too, in a different way — and it’s a good idea to read them. But then I don’t necessarily think it’s a must.
9. Do you reread? I reread books a lot, and nearly always find something new to enjoy in them (or I find the familiarity comforting), but some people think there isn’t enough time in the world. I can get that, but I love to reread.
10. Comics? I didn’t get into comics myself until a few years ago, really, and I get that they just aren’t for some people. But I do like to know if I can ramble about Marvel’s latest direction with someone or not…

Honestly, if I know all those things about someone, I feel like we’re already pretty close! Books are pretty darn important, yo.

This week’s theme from The Broke and the Bookish is pretty much about taking stock, now we’re almost halfway through 2017. What’re the best books I’ve read so far this year? Hmm…

1. The Tyrannosaur Chronicles, by David Hone. A Christmas present from my sister, and an awesome one. It’s just come out in paperback, I think, so I definitely recommend it if you’re interested in dinosaurs and palaeontology. It’s pretty exhaustive, though; not for those who don’t like non-fiction.
2. Within the Sanctuary of Wings, by Marie Brennan. The final volume of the Lady Trent books, this was really worth it. I wish there were a ton more of Isabella’s adventures, but it’s a great ending.
3. The Worm at the Core, by Sheldon Solomon, Jeff Greenberg, and Tom Pyszczynski. Very worth reading, all about how humans react to the knowledge we’re going to die, and how that sets us apart. It sounds depressing, but it’s really not.
4. Outer Space, Inner Lands, by Ursula Le Guin. Amazing, of course — a collection of her best short stories, focusing in this volume on her SF.
5. An Artificial Night, by Seanan McGuire. I’ve been reading quite a bit of Seanan McGuire’s work this year, and this volume of the Toby Daye series sticks in my head because of all the awesome references to myth and legend.
6. Miranda and Caliban, by Jacqueline Carey. I didn’t expect to get so involved with the story of Miranda and of Caliban, but Carey got me hooked. I think I read it all in one go.
7. The Burning Page, by Genevieve Cogman. The Invisible Library books continue to be a heck of a lot of fun, and I’m glad there are more to come.
8. Passing Strange, by Ellen Klages. The first time I read anything by Ellen Klages, and it won’t be the last.
9. On the Origin of Species, by Charles Darwin. I know I’m dreadfully late to the party in reading this, but at least it’s stood the test of time. Darwin didn’t know a lot of key information about heredity, but he got so much right — and he was so willing to look exhaustively for evidence.
10. Summer in Orcus, by T. Kingfisher. It’d be easy to get tired of portal fantasy, but this is so charming and full of ideas and characters I’d love to explore more.

What about you? What’re your greatest hits so far this year?