Main site homepage
Showing 3 of 3 Results

The Book Blog

decorative-image
02/19/2025
profile-icon Victoria Slaughter

As a reader (and a librarian), you’d think I’d have my bookish life together—neatly organized shelves, a perfectly curated TBR, maybe even a color-coded reading plan. But let’s be honest, my TBR (To Be Read) list is pure, unhinged chaos. No matter how many books I read, the list refuses to shrink. In fact, it only grows at an alarming rate. At this point, it feels less like a list and more like a hydra—finish one book, and three more take its place.

There’s something both thrilling and mildly terrifying about an ever-growing TBR. On the one hand, I love knowing I’ll never run out of amazing books to read. On the other, my shelves (both physical and digital) are starting to resemble a small-scale library, and my Kindle is judging me.

My Biggest TBR Weaknesses

📚 ARCs (Advanced Reader Copies) – I love getting early access to books. But let’s be real, my digital TBR pile is now a structural hazard.

📚 Impulse Bookstore Purchases – Walk into a bookstore just to browse? Never.

📚 Book Club Recommendations – One great recommendation leads to another and another and another…..

What’s Actually on My TBR Right Now?

Currently, my TBR is a mix of books I’ve been meaning to read forever, buzzy new releases, and books I added on a whim but don’t quite remember why. Here are a few titles near the top of my never-ending list:

📖 The Listeners by Maggie Stiefvater | June 3, 2025 – I have loved this author since the early 2000s when she wrote the Shiver trilogy about werewolves (it was never just a phase). This will be her first book that is not YA. Knowing Stiefvater’s writing, it’ll be weird, magical, and I’m SO pumped. 

📖 The Secret History by Donna Tartt | September 16, 1992 – The dark academia Bible. People praise this book to the heavens, and yet, I can’t seem to get past the 100-page mark. At some point in my life, I will persevere and read all 559 pages of this novel that has left such a powerful impact on so many. (It’s me. Hi.  I’m the problem. It’s me.)

📖 Three Bags Full by Leonie Swann | August 1, 2005 – I found this while mindlessly scrolling Goodreads Giveaways and only clicked on it because of the cute cover and fun title. Then I saw the description: a herd of sheep solving their shepherd’s murder? Sign me up. Cozy mystery meets farm animals? Yes, please. Now, I just have to wait my turn in the reserve line at the library. Because of course this fun titled mystery book would also happen to being turned into a movie here soon.

TBR Management: Do We Even Try?

I’d love to say I have a plan when it comes to tackling my TBR, but let’s be honest—I mostly just read whatever I’m in the mood for. Honestly? I wouldn’t have it any other way. Having too many books to read is the best kind of problem.

Can a reader ever have too many books? Eh. Am I going to stop buying/adding to my TBR anytime soon? Absolutely not.

What does your TBR look like? Do you have a system, or are you also just riding the chaos wave with me?

No Subjects
decorative-image
02/10/2025

This week, our blog post comes from Lisa Mahoney, an English Professor (and avid library user)!

Humans are natural-born storytellers. We move from home to work to social activities and back again all the while communicating with others via story: “Guess what happened on the way to work?” “Let me tell what so-and-so did today.” “A funny thing happened when I went…” We weave in and out of different situations using narrative to entertain, explain, persuade, and ultimately be seen. Stories are easy to understand. Stories foster empathy. Stories elucidate values and worldviews. In short, stories are powerful. My favorite is fiction. The best illuminate deep insights that have broader reach beyond just what happened. They speak about not just the main character but about all individuals. 

While I’m not opposed to true stories, it’s not my go-to, and even when a memoir stirs up enormous buzz, and everyone I know recommends it, the engagement and motivation to actually finish the book lack purchase. I guess I just get a little bored, truth be told. My imagination isn’t sparked, my feelings aren’t triggered, my empathy teeters on the brink of apathy. One book changed all of this for me: The Beggar King and the Secret of Happiness by Joel ben Izzy. I first read it twenty-two years ago and have since re-read it close to a dozen times. I have gifted numerous copies and recommended it innumerable times. Before this book, I had a hard time with a lot of the Me-ness in memoir and, to use the old cliché, was a little over the navel-gazing. And maybe I have a hard time with newer titles because this little gem stands as the litmus test for them all. None so far have passed the test.  

Izzy’s story is at its base about loss, finding meaning in that loss, and not fighting against what your own story is that needs to play out. Izzy is a professional storyteller hired to perform at schools, weddings, festivals, etc. At thirty-seven, in otherwise good health, Izzy was diagnosed with thyroid cancer. During the procedure, his vocal nerve was affected. What a bum deal: a storyteller who loses his voice. Not only was the loss a physical one but because it was tied so intricately to his vocation it was a complete loss of self. He embarks on a journey to get his voice back and inexplicably comes face to face with his old mentor-turned-curmudgeon Lenny.

Lenny leads him on a story-journey to truly see his situation and not fight it. He reminds him of the timeless ancient tales that he tells in his professional life, and the treat for readers is that each chapter is introduced with an aligning parable and its origin. The book’s prologue is “The Beggar King,” a classic from Jerusalem. Others like “The Lost Horse” from China and “Optimism and Pessimism” from the Czech Republic and “The Happy Man’s Shirt” from Italy (among so many others) preface each prong in Izzy’s own chronology of this life-altering event. Through his sometimes-harsh interactions with Lenny, Izzy is slowly brought into his reality of not having a voice. He works toward acceptance and forgiveness in search of happiness. 

Ultimately, stories are the crux of life. At a pivotal point in the story, Lenny goads Izzy into telling stories again. Izzy resists because he can’t talk. Lenny says, “Telling stories is not about the words you say. When you have a story inside you, and an open heart, you become a conduit—the story flows through you. As for the words…they’re merely commentary.” Shortly after, what becomes the one true theme for me, Lenny tries to shake the self-pity out of Izzy by pushing him into the reality of his new life. He says, “You walked out of my door twenty years ago and set off to seek adventure. And now here you are, back again, in the middle of a grand adventure. What more do you want?” Izzy responds, “Out.” Lenny explains, “It doesn’t work that way. What would happen if a character tried to escape from a story you were telling?” explaining that they stay put or they’d ruin the story. They can’t leave; they are the story. And here Lenny lays the epiphany out for Izzy: “That’s your problem. For months now, you’ve been trying to scrape and claw your way out of your own story…. But that’s not the way it works. You’re in a story. I’m in a story. Everyone is inside a story, whether they like it or not.” 

Like it or not, we’re all in our own stories. If you want a heartwarming, bittersweet, honest odyssey, read Joel ben Izzy’s story. 

 

 

No Subjects
02/05/2025

I grew up between the pages of Youssef El-Sebai's novels. Khalil Gibran’s short stories haunted my teenage mind for weeks. I couldn’t put down Taha Hussein’s El-Ayam (The Days) or Naguib Mahfouz’s Bidaya wa Nihaya (A Beginning and an End). In high school, puzzled, I perused the works of some of the greatest Arab poets, such as Al-Mutanabbi and Antarah Ibn Shaddad. 

At the same time, I was learning how to order at a restaurant in English, struggling with tenses and past participles, and confusing “so” with “too.” 

Now, years, hundreds of flashcards, and a continent later, my English grammar and vocabulary notebooks have been superseded by Western classics from 19th- and 20th-century authors. 

While I still underline new words and annotate complex structures, I now have the chance to directly absorb the thoughts, experiences, and stories of people from a different culture and time—in their own voices, through their own writing. 

When I find myself in a library or bookstore, I almost absentmindedly gravitate toward the classics section. Sometimes crouched down, sometimes on tiptoes, but always overwhelmed and grateful, I browse the novels of increasingly familiar authors. 

I picked up Sylvia Plath’s The Collected Poems. Although I have only read The Bell Jar and some of her poems, I can now recognize her unique style instantly. Plath has patterns. She employs the same words repeatedly throughout her work—brood, rook, fen, and marauder. Climactic questions end many of her stanzas, and counterintuitively, these inquiries tend to provide the final answer, painting the full picture. It is easy to see that Plath is a fan of alliteration. Her words often flow seamlessly, as in her titles “Tale of a Tub” and “Southern Sunrise.” 

One poem I keep going back to is Winter Landscape, with Rooks. It is hard to articulate why I connect with one poem more than another, but I will try anyway. The first time I read it was the best time I read it. Oblivious to what lay ahead, I took in the description of the dark, hibernal landscape and the out-of-place, snow-white swan—only to realize, in the final lines, that the narrator is the rook and the bleak landscape mirrors her cold, broken heart. The enjambment (the continuation of a phrase from one line to another) makes reading this poem effortless and satisfying. 

I am still working my way through The Collected Poems. In the meantime, I’ve picked up other classics such as Giovanni’s Room, Maurice, and The Woman in White, quenching my thirst for ideas and words written more than a century ago in a language I did not speak a decade ago. 

New flashcards—this time of Italian words—are accumulating in my room. I still cannot confidently order in a restaurant or conjugate in all tenses, but I dream of the day I can pick up a classic Italian novel, because now, I learn a language for literature.

by Mohamed Chawki Mhadhab

No Subjects