I typically stay away from science fiction. I'm not deterred by science itself, rather the fact that the entire genre is based on the single question, "What if?" For me, pure speculation doesn't move me like realistic fiction does because characters tend to be less developed. After all, authors must focus on air-tight realities.

This is ultimately why I choose to review books I don't like: for honesty's sake. I'm not actively looking for books to hate on, I'm simply writing what I feel strongly about. It's unrealistic to think that you're going to enjoy every single book that you read. And my negative reviews are simply indicative of that.

My advice for anyone intimidated by the task of reading three-hundred pages is to start with a shorter length work. These books often have smaller page sizes, making one page easier to read and digest. Five pages a day would lead to one-hundred pages in twenty days – enough to finish at least half, if not more, of shorter length works. Now this seems like a much easier pill to swallow.

One of my favorite aspects of reading fiction is learning about history through a character's lense. History textbooks are often drab, and nonfiction, while informative, is designed to teach rather than to engage. But strong works of fiction that can captivate my attention while giving me a history lesson make are even more well-rounded than simply stories themselves.

In high school, I loved Alexandre Dumas's The Count of Monte Cristo. Ten years after high school, I decided to read the full unabridged version, since we hadn't read the full version in class. The unabridged version is close to 1,200 pages! And I'm starting to see why my tenth grade English teacher had us read the reduced word count.

I've read three books over the last three weeks. One was a Booker prize winner, one was written by a Pulitzer Prize-winning playright, and one has no major accolades. Ironically enough, the one with the least hardware was the best of the three.

Sometimes, we simply don't want to read. Whether it strains your eyes (or ears, if you prefer audiobooks) or expends too much mental energy, reading requires a lot of effort. We don't always want to give that effort. This week, I felt like turning my brain off and watching Netflix instead. What should've been a breezy three-hundred-page read turned into a laborious effort to get through each page.

Every now and then, I come across a book that piques my interest because of its setting in today's society. When I heard about Rosey Storey's debut novel Dandelion Is Dead set in present-day London, I was intrigued. It's not every day you read about a woman impersonating her dead sister on a dating app. I expected social commentary on modern dating and how it relates to singles in their late-thirties. What I got, however, was a contemporary mess.

I'm not a fan of religious allegory in books–I wasn't raised Christian, so Biblical references tend to go over my head. To me, religious allegory is a cop-out for actual writing. Unless writing a religious novel, why would an author allude to something that's not universally known? The best works tell stories that illustrate the depths of human emotion; they're classics because everyone can relate to them.

I know what you're thinking—it's obvious that reading a book at night is better than scrolling through your phone. But what all the book gurus fail to point out is that reading and scrolling are more related than you think. In this post, I'll explain how scrolling can actually help your reading—but only if done the right way.

A lot of you loved my post on getting back into reading, but now you’re curious about the next step: how do I pick what to read? I’ll dive into some ways you can choose among the millions of options. Then, I'll explain how I picked the books on my current reading list.

Have you wondered why a book doesn't flow in a sequential order? Perhaps the author switches between the past and present or jumps among different years. This isn't pure theatrics – it's an intenional literary device known as a non-linear timeline. In this post, I'll explain what it is, why some books use it, and when authors should avoid it, with examples along the way.

You've probably scrolled through BookTok before. Millions of people are talking about their recent read, which they stayed up all night to finish. You sit there and wish you could get to that point, to where you could contribute your own thoughts from the books you've read. The problem is simple - you can't get yourself to pick up the dusty novel that's been sitting on your bookshelf for years, which you tell yourself time and time again that you'll get to.