Purveyor of fine fantasy adventures

Author: Ellie (Page 1 of 83)

Project Read the TBR wrap-up

We’re down to the last few hours of December, so I’m wrapping up my project to read the TBR. Here’s my last few reads for the year, which includes a sort-of cheat: Empire in Black and Gold is my current read I just started on the 27th, and at 600+ pages there is very litle chance I’m going to finish it before we ring in the New Year – even at my best reading speed.

As you can see from the table above, my reading slowed right down over the last few weeks, due to my mum passing away in November.  Nonetheless, Project Read the TBR was a success. I had an informal goal of getting down to under 100 books in the queue, and according to Goodreads, my “Mount TBR” shelf is currently sitting at 98. Yay, me etc. Of course, since I *actually* read a total of 110 books in 2024, clearly I could have read a lot more. A few books also had to be added to/removed from the shelf mid-year because a) I read some series openers that I then decided not to continue with, and b) I am an idiot who cannot be relied upon to maintain my Goodreads shelves accurately.

But on the subject of series openers, in the course of this project I discovered some crackers, many of which I had been sleeping on for a number of years, including:

  • Eternal Sky – Elizabeth Bear
  • The Redwinter Chronicles – Ed McDonald
  • Rook & Rose – MA Carrick
  • The Tower and the Knife – Mazarkis Williams
  • The Divine Cities – Robert Jackson Bennett
  • Memoirs of Lady Trent – Marie Brennan
  • The Craft Sequence – Max Gladstone
  • Planetfall – Emma Newman
  • Shades of Magic – VE Schwab
  • Spellcrackers – Suzanne MacLeod
  • The Bone Season – Samantha Shannon
  • The Laundry Files – Charles Stross
  • Weather Warden – Rachel Caine
  • The Shadow Campaigns – Django Wexler
  • Wolfhound Century – Peter Higgins
  • Winternight Trilogy – Katherine Arden
  • The Greatcoats – Sebastien de Castell
  • Drowning Empire – Andrea Stewart
  • The Blackhart Legacy – Liz de Jager

These were all thoroughly enjoyable, all for different reasons, and I want to read on. As a result,  my list of ongoing series now numbers 48, so 2025’s TBR looks, to use a seasonally-appropriate phrase, somewhere between “Ouch” and “boi-oi-oi-oing”.

There goes my pocket money.

 

Though she be but little, she is fierce

It doesn’t seem fair that a life well-lived should end in a bunch of forms. Death certificate, green form, last will and testament. Bald facts that come nowhere near encompassing the colour and spark of the person we’ve lost, or the void she leaves behind.

Mum died on Friday. I’ve spent the last few days with Dad, grieving with him as he tries to adjust to the loss. It’s been hard, though, when we feel her everywhere around us. Her jacket is still on the chair, her boots in the hall. Every room in the house feels like she’s just stepped away, and will be back at any second.

A thin, grey-haired lady wearing glasses and a pale green jumper holds an iPhone. She is looking at the screen, not the camera, but it's the most recent photo I have to hand.

Joyce Ferguson
17 June 1934 – 29 November 2024

Today, I helped him make phone calls. Lots of calls, lots of reciting those bald facts. Hearing the same professional sympathies and saying thank you to them over and over and over again, until they’re just noise and we’re wrung out from it. There’s more to come, but those were the most pressing ones. The rest can keep for a bit.

At the end, there should be something more than a hyphen between two dates. There should be space for all that Joyce was to all of us: funny, warm, smart as a whip. In the 1960s she worked as an administrator for the College of Further Education in Newcastle. A young maths teacher applied for a job there; she typed the letter inviting him for an interview. When he arrived, she looked up from her 5ft 2in to his strapping 6ft 3 and asked him if it was cold up there.

I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that he got the job, and she got her guy. They were together for over sixty years, and he was with her at the last.

I’ll remember her most as Mum, obviously, but she was also a fierce advocate for her family, a wise counsellor, a tireless Writer of Letters. She travelled extensively but always preferred coming home. Loved flowers, but hated bouquets. She was a reader of books and solver of crosswords, tamer of blackbirds and befriender of dogs outside the newsagent. It’s thanks to her that I am the way I am.

Safe travels, Mum. I love you.

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