Tag: Reading for pleasure

Ten Books, One Nervous Breakdown: Reckoning with the ABC Top 100

I am a reader. Not the “I’ll grab a paperback at the airport” kind. I mean the full-blown, emotionally-attached-to-fictional-characters, rearrange-my-bookshelves-for-fun kind. So when ABC Radio National asked Australians to nominate their top 10 books of the 21st century, I did what any sane book lover would do: I spiralled.

Coming up with this list was horrendously difficult. I probably agonised over it for longer than it took to name my children, and with far more existential dread.

What if I forgot a book that changed my life?

What if I picked something too obvious?

Too obscure? Too emotionally manipulative?

Eventually, after much soul-searching, tea-drinking, and dramatic sighing, I settled on ten. I will preface it and say they may not necessarily the “best” books of the century—but they’re the ten books I think are the ‘my‘ books. My literary lifeboats. And because I clearly enjoy suffering, I’ve explained why each one made the cut.

My Brilliant Friend (2011) by Elena Ferrante

A colleague recommended this one to me back in 2019. Book one of a four-part saga that nails the messy magic of female friendship. Elena and Lila are best mates, worst rivals, and emotional sparring partners. Ferrante helped me realise that friendship isn’t always soft—it’s sharp, complicated, and utterly formative.

A Man Called Ove (2012) by Fredrik Backman

My best read of 2018—and the gateway drug to all things Backman. Grumpy old man meets chaotic neighbours, and somehow it’s a masterclass in love, loss, and chosen family. Proof that sometimes, the best family isn’t the one you’re born into—it’s the one that barges in uninvited.

The Tattooist of Auschwitz (2018) by Heather Morris

Heart-wrenching and unforgettable. Based on interviews with Holocaust survivor Lale Sokolov, this novel brings humanity to horror. It’s a story of love, resilience, and survival in the darkest of places—and it left me absolutely gutted. Furthermore, for the non-readers in my life- there is a TV series.

Wolf Hall (2009) by Hilary Mantel

Book one of Mantel’s Tudor trilogy, starring the ever-scheming Thomas Cromwell. This was another recommendation from a colleague. Wolf Hall is lyrical, slyly funny, and so well written it makes other historical fiction feel like homework. A must for history buffs—and anyone who likes their politics bloody and their prose brilliant. TV series available for the non-readers. Different note – Alison Weir just released a title called “Cardinal” based on the life of Thomas Wolsey … so will need to pop that on my list to read soon.

A Thousand Splendid Suns (2007) by Khaled Hosseini

Heartbreaking and beautiful. Set in Taliban-era Afghanistan, it follows two women whose lives collide in tragedy—and transform through love. Their bond, almost mother-daughter, is a testament to resilience, sacrifice, and the fierce power of chosen family. This was an accidental read, I found this book on a plane, left by a forgetful passenger… I still have it on my bookshelf. It has been well read and is still much loved.

Circe (2018) by Madeline Miller

I’m a sucker for Greek mythology, and this feminist retelling hit all the right notes. Circe steps out of the shadows and into her own power—witch, exile, goddess, woman. Strong female themes, lyrical prose, and a fresh perspective on ancient tales. Loved every spellbinding page. This book is far better than Song of Achilles, also by Madeline Miller. I felt like slapping Achilles more times than I could count in that novel.

Go Tell the Bees That I Am Gone (2021) by Diana Gabaldon

Book nine of the Outlander saga, and a rich tapestry of time-travelling drama. Jamie, Claire, Brianna, Roger, Lord John Grey, and William Ransom all get their moment—and it’s beautifully woven together. Such emotion. Jamie and Claire at their best. A love story for the ages. I have included this in the list because it is one of my favourite series, as I couldn’t squeeze in Cross Stitch (wrong century!), but this one carries the torch. BTW – I am waiting desperately for Book 10. Hurry up Diana!!

Burial Rites (2013) by Hannah Kent

A beautifully written fictional take on the life of Agnes Magnúsdóttir, Iceland’s last execution. It forces you to confront 19th-century prejudice, gender roles, and how reputation can be shaped more by rumour than truth. Quietly devastating—and deeply human. This was a senior text when I was teaching in the ACT and I read it as part of my curriculum planning. An absolutely brilliant novel and quite frankly, should be taught more in schools.

Hallmarked Man (2025) by Robert Galbraith (aka J K Rowling)

This one was hard as I nearly shoehorned in Harry Potter, but alas, that was from last century. Then I dithered over Deathly Hallows, but it’s book seven, and I’ve got a “book one” theme going (see Wolf Hall, My Brilliant Friend). Therefore it seemed logical that Cuckoo’s Calling made the list. But in the end, as I selected Book 9 of the Outlander series, I felt that it was OK that Hallmarked Man won out over the other 7 books in the series. Additionally, it is the best book I’ve read this year. .So, it’s in. No regrets. (Okay, maybe a few – I agonised over this one the most).

The Nightingale (2015) by Kristin Hannah

I cried buckets. This heartfelt tale of a woman risking everything to save Jewish children under the Nazi occupation of France. First it was for her best friend’s son… then it was another woman’s son…. and daughter. This book is a gut-punch of love, loss, friendship, and motherhood. It broke me, then stitched me back together.

So there you have it…

Ten books. Ten emotional rollercoasters. And one very frazzled reader. If you’re brave enough to try making your own list, I salute you. Just stock up on tea, tissues, and a sturdy spreadsheet.

Book Review: Best of All Worlds by Kenneth Oppel

Kenneth Oppel’s Best of All Worlds is a young adult speculative fiction novel centred on Xavier Oak, a Canadian teenager trapped beneath an invisible dome with his father and stepmother. What begins as a short family retreat becomes years of unexplained isolation. The arrival of a second family three years later introduces ideological tension and a mild romantic subplot, consistent with genre expectations.

The narrative is straightforward, with hints of extraterrestrial involvement and surveillance. The prose is accessible, the pacing steady, and the themes—xenophobia, resilience, distrust—are presented in simplified form. The book is fairly true to the tone and structure of the Netflix adaptation it complements, though like most tie-ins, it reads as a diluted version of the original. It is an adequate read, but lacks literary substance.

Unlike Oppel’s other works, such as the Silverwing series, this novel lacks scope and is largely devoid of the symbolism that traditionally enriches his fiction. It trades allegorical depth for surface-level tension and interpersonal drama.

For readers who find classic dystopian texts too demanding, this may serve as a more approachable alternative. However, for those who do not generally enjoy young adult fiction, this novel is unlikely to change that view. It is readable, but ultimately all frosting and no cake—conceptually interesting, but light on depth.

The Whimsical Wonder of Readathons: Reading for Joy, for Fun, for Pleasure!

Normally, my annual fundraiser is Frocktober, where for the month of October, I celebrate the gloriousness of frocks whilst fundraising for the Ovarian Cancer Research Fund. But this year, I’m mixing it up with something equally delightful and just a bit more bookish: a readathon! And not just any readathon—The World’s Coolest Readathon, hosted by the Australian Book Foundation. I saw that another wonderful Teacher Librarian Barbara from Bourke High School had signed up and then I thought… why not do it myself?

And what better way to kick things off than with a mystery? My first book for this readathon is Diabolical Bones by Sue Ellis—a Brontë Girls Mystery, borrowed from the ever-wonderful Brisbane City Council libraries. Gothic Yorkshire, clever heroines, and a touch of the macabre? Yes please.

A readathon, I’ve decided, is the perfect sequel to Book Month—like the epilogue where the characters (aka readers) get to celebrate their love of stories with wild abandon. It’s the encore performance, the bonus chapter, the literary afterparty.

Once upon a time, in a land not so far away (okay, it was my bedroom in Brisbane’s Southside), I embarked on a noble quest: the MS Readathon. Armed with a stack of books taller than my bedside lamp and a sponsorship sheet that made me feel like a literary philanthropist, I read my way through mysteries, adventures, and magical lands—all while raising money for a good cause. It was glorious.

Fast forward to today, and I find myself whispering reminders like a mantra: Read for fun. Read for joy. Read for pleasure. Because somewhere between grown-up responsibilities and inbox avalanches, the simple delight of reading can slip through the cracks.

Why Readathons Are Brilliant (and Backed by Science!) 

Readathons aren’t just nostalgic—they’re powerful tools for literacy, wellbeing, and community. Here’s why they’re so magical:

They Spark a Love of Reading: Choosing your own books makes reading feel like breathing—natural and joyful.

“Until I feared I would lose it, I never loved to read. One does not love breathing.”

–Harper Lee, To Kill a Mockingbird

They Boost Brains and Wellbeing: Reading for pleasure improves mental health and cognitive skills.

“Reading gives us someplace to go when we have to stay where we are.”
— Mason Cooley

They Create Lifelong Readers: Even reluctant readers get swept up in the fun.

“A reader lives a thousand lives before he dies. The man who never reads lives only one.”
— George R.R. Martin

They Build Community: Fundraising through reading turns stories into shared kindness.

“No act of kindness, no matter how small, is ever wasted.”
— Aesop

A Readathon Renaissance

Whether you’re a teacher, parent, librarian, or just a book-loving human, readathons offer a delightful way to reconnect with the joy of reading. They’re flexible, inclusive, and can be tailored to any age or interest. Plus, they’re a fabulous excuse to wear pajamas all day and call it “literary immersion.”

So if you, like me, sometimes need a nudge to read for the sheer pleasure of it, consider joining or hosting a readathon. You’ll be part of a movement that’s not just fun—it’s transformative.

And if you’re ready to dive in, check out The World’s Coolest Readathon. It’s got all the charm of the MS Readathon days, with a modern twist and a mission to make reading joyful again.

References

Library vibes

I’ve always taken my kids to the library.  My eldest first visited when she was six days old. I was a new nursing mum and desperate for reading materials to keep me entertained through those numerous breastfeeds.  Throughout her infancy we visited different libraries on rotation.  Some had great books.  Others had great coffee nearby.  Some had social groups that I was interested in.  Either way the local library was where I felt relaxed and welcome.

Fast forward to mothering toddlers and then preschoolers, the library was where we did ‘Rhyme time’, ‘toddler time’, and ‘storytime’. Each session was eagerly awaited by mother and enjoyed whoheartedly by child and then, children.

Now as a mum of three, my library visits are less regulated mainly cos life is busy. But I do believe that my children are thriving, because of their lifetime access to books.

I just read this amazing article about Kids and libraries do mix. 

Local libraries are more than just a warehouse of books.  They are an escape from the mundane, a breath of fresh air, and most importantly, a welcoming space.

So I dare you.  Go to a local library.  Take the kids and watch the magic happen.