Tag: Bloggers

Possibly, Maybe

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Let’s be honest, it’s been a while.

Late in 2024, I had every intention of turning over a new leaf and blasting into 2025 with a blog filled with lots of gorgeous and wonderful book reviews, and all the possibilities that a New Year should bring.

Then, in his usual, don’t worry, I’m fine and it’s probably nothing way, my Dad told me that there were a couple of health things he was dealing with. Except this time, things weren’t ok, and he wasn’t fine. He was diagnosed with kidney cancer in February this year, and passed away in April.

Inbetween the diagnosis and Dad’s death, my sister and I were flung into the unknown territories of looking after someone who is terminally ill. We split our weeks in half so that we could both travel to stay with him and look after him, dealing with medication, and doctors, and hospice nurses, and district nurses, and the realisation that in the midst of all this, our Dad was slipping away from us into a world where his lucidity hinged on where he was in his pain medication cycle.

When he died in April, with the grief came the knowledge that at least Dad wasn’t suffering with the excruciating pain he had endured, and as we then fell into the whirl of admin that comes when someone passes away (which made me realise how I need to get my own things sorted!), the only thing that counted was getting through the days however I could.

My sister and I were now, as someone tactfully told us at the funeral, real life orphans, so we settled back into our lives and are still dealing with everything Dad related at a distance. There is that awful realisation that keeps coming in waves, that your Dad isn’t at the end of a phone, or at the house just off the M4 in Wales, and I didn’t know what to do.

My Mum died in 2019, and blindsided by grief I fell back into and consumed books like a woman on a mission to absorb stories as a way to navigate my loss.

In 2025, I felt differently.

Since 2017, I had been calling myself a book blogger, and with it, came the excitement and thrill of reading and reviewing new books, making bookish connections with authors, publishing people, and best of all, a whole world of people who loved reading and books just as much as I did.

When I started, your ‘portfolio’ was your blog – it was a way for publishers to see what you were writing about, and books were being sent to me faster than I could read and review them. Yet I worked really hard at reading and reviewing them for publication day, shouting about them, telling people to read them, and nothing made me happier than an author thanking me for my review or someone telling me they had got a copy of the book because they trusted my recommendation.

By 2025, the blogging landscape had changed so much. BookTok is huge, talking about books on X is like shouting into the void, and the Instagram algorithm is all about the reels and the videos. It feels like a world where I am sat on the bench at the side of the playground, still writing reviews (admittedly on instagram) and shouting about books, but that everyone is looking the other way at the new kids.

Now, sitting with the quietness of not being seen so much, I realised that again, I had lost my joy of reading because I was getting frustrated by feeling that my efforts to read and review books were not being heard. We are always aware as bloggers how we can help and support authors, but I think we need that support too. Anyway, that’s a post for another time.

My Dad was a bookworm like me, and was always asking me how the book blogging was going, and whether there were any books I had read he would like – there usually weren’t, but we had so many brilliant discussions about reading and what different books meant to us at different points in our lives. Now, realising that we wouldn’t have those chats any more and feeling lost, I turned to my bookshelves for comfort. I read books that I wanted to read, books that had been on my shelves for the longest time, and books that I would never have picked up (hello Lonesome Dove, and thank you Amanda for telling me I needed to read it, you were of course right!).

I decided to take the book blogging pressure off myself, because when you put all that effort in, and you feel like no one is listening, or you start to get frustrated that you are missing out on proofs and seeing people with them and your own requests not being seen, I knew it was time to take a step back and take a long hard look at myself.

I guess this post is a long winded way of me telling you that I am still here, still reading, and am trying to get back to reading without the background noise of feeling I should be reading and reviewing all the new books.

When I wrote a post about my Mum, I ended it by saying that the greatest tribute to my Mum would be for me to just keep reading selfishly, because life is too short to read books you don’t love. Now as I navigate my world without Dad too, I have come to realise that one of the best gifts they gave me was my love of reading, and although it’s heartbreaking that neither of them are here with me, for them, I am trying to find that love again in the best way I can.

The Final Chapter or The Start of a New One?

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The irony of writing a blog post about the difficulties of getting your blog posts and reviews seen is not lost on me at all, and as with every time that I write something personal, as always, please note that what follows are solely my opinions.

2024 has been quite a bit of a year for me personally (you just have to trust me on that one), and also I think it has been the worst “professional”year since I started blogging.

Coupled with this, as I enter my fourth year of full time caring, I can honestly say that I have never felt more lonely and isolated, and one idea I had to combat that was passionately pitched by me and kindly and gently turned down by someone else, so my confidence has really taken a knock this year.

I have hit major reading slumps around three times this year, and like I suspect a lot of bloggers, have been wondering how on earth to keep shouting about books I love when it feels like no one is listening.

I admire the people who are fine with the hope that their writing brings one reader to the book they are talking about, but I find accepting that hard. I want to talk about books, I want conversations that lead to a feeling that someone gets you and that both your reading lists have grown. It all just feels disconnected and I hate it. I also know that I am not the only person feeling like this, judging by the conversations I have had with many other bloggers this year.

Reading and talking about books for me has always been about connections. With readers who you know will love the book too, with the author so that you can tell them how much you love their work, and on a more general level with the world at large, so that you don’t feel so alone – now more than ever.

It is so disheartening to feel that you read a book maybe for publication day, writing a review, telling everyone how brilliant it is, and knowing so strongly that there are so many people who would love it too. When you get absolutely no feedback or interaction – especially on social media, and sometimes from the publisher or author too, I wonder why on earth I bothered. Is it more important that a book is simply ‘seen’ as opposed to being reviewed?

In 2024, I have realised that book blogging isn’t what it used to be, and although everyone will deny it, as a 54 year old woman, I honestly feel less and less visible as a book blogger. I don’t do TikTok or Reels, no longer feel confident doing videos anymore, and what I feel is that my written words are being lost amongst a sea of brilliantly creative and other ways of talking about books that don’t necessarily mean written reviews.

That then makes me think why I am doing this. Is it purely because I want to share my love of books, in which case engagement and likes and being able to have proofs shouldn’t be important, but the book blogging world is a connected one. The more engagement and more that people connect with you, the more likely you are to be able to ask for proofs to shout about books before they are published. Yet that is not how I started book blogging, I didn’t even know what a proof was, which now makes me feel that being so aware of them is not what book blogging should be either.

To take the pressure off myself this year I have tried mixing up reading books from the library, books from my own shelves and proofs that I have been sent, and reviewing when I can. It’s ridiculous to even say that it feels freeing to do this, because at the end of the day, reading should be a joyful thing, not a chore or feel like a bookish test you are trying to pass.

Of course the rational thing to do if I am bothered by all this is to hang my book blogging hat up, and instead let other people carry on, but then what? Being at home as much as I am, without talking to other people for much of my day is honestly really hard – blogging gives me a purpose, something where I can be Clare, not Mum or Mrs Reynolds or a carer. It gives me a purpose, a feeling that there is something I think I am good at and love talking about. Books and blogging have been such an important part of my world for so long that the thought of walking away from this brilliant community is hard.

2025 is very nearly here, and I think I need to make some decisions. Either to carry on and not get upset by the fact that I feel no one is listening anymore, to understand that fighting against the social media algorithms is pointless, and to just think stuff it and give it everything without worrying! Or maybe it’s time for me to step back and appreciate I have had a brilliant time, but that Years Of Reading has run its course.

My love for reading and books hasn’t changed, it just feels like everything else in the book blogging world has. I have to work out how and if I want to fit in, and that’s the part I’m finding difficult.

Love,

Clare

Xx

Thank Goodness for Books

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Ever since I decided last year not to do a Best Books of the Year thing, I have been thinking a lot about what I wanted my final blog post of 2023 to look like. I am genuinely too knackered to think of anything witty and erudite to say (that’s the joy of full time unpaid caring for you), but I am just awake enough to say that this year I felt like there was some undefinable shift for book bloggers.

Possibly it is because Twitter has felt very different over the past year – a lot like shouting into the void as you endlessly try and tell people that the books you are trying to shout about are really good and you know that so many of you would love it – if only you were able to reach them. Instagram has me baffled constantly, and at 53 I am not enthusiastic enough to do reels and feel too embarrassed to start lip syncing to songs while remembering to hold my book the right way round, so I guess posting pictures of my books against the white of my dining room wall will have to do.

There is absolutely no doubt that the bookish community is as strong and supportive as ever, but I know that lots of us are all having conversations about how different it feels at the moment – something we can’t quite put our fingers on, but I know lots of us feel it.

As always, this is just my opinion, and as always for me writing about how I am feeling helps me to process and understand it – well at least a little. I have been blogging since 2017, and this is the first year, as I have said before that I found this the most personally challenging in terms of caring and book blogging yet.

Not only have I been trying to juggle full time caring, dealing with all the stresses and pressures that brings – no sick days, no breaks and loneliness and isolation like I have never experienced, but also trying to not let down the publicists and publishers by making sure I read and reviewed the books I had promised to do, as well as keeping Years Of Caring going. This proved to be really challenging because ironically I was so busy caring for Eldest Years of Reading that I found it really hard to make the time to read the books and ask authors to be involved!

Anyway, I think what I am trying to say (not very well, so thank you for sticking with me so far!) is that 2023 has made me realise many things, and perhaps most of all how you have to be kind to yourself and accept that sometimes life means that you can’t read lots of books, or as much as you like, and that you absolutely shouldn’t feel guilty about it.

Reading should be a pleasure, a joy, something that gives you that real physical sensation of connection to a book and the words on the pages. Whatever you read, whenever you read, whether it be one page, one chapter or one hundred pages it is your chance to be somewhere else, on your own, even for just a little while. This year, this has meant more to me than I can explain, and having to accept that reading has to fit into my life rather that my life has to fit into my reading schedule has felt like an enormous weight has been lifted off my shoulders.

So I think the one piece of advice I am trying pass on is to remember how much you love reading. Why out of all the things you could be doing, that picking up a book is what you choose to do. How much you love finding yourself in new worlds, losing yourself for a while, that amazing feeling of joy and wonder that comes when you love a book and want everyone you know to read it too. We all read, loved and recommmended books way before we used social media to tell everyone about them, and I know I need to remind myself of that too.

Reading is a way to start conversations, to make friends, to read books that you never would have picked up, to find solace, comfort and joy. The right book at the right time can make you look at the world in a whole new way, and there is nothing like it when you find an author you love with a whole backlist for you to devour. Don’t ever feel embarrassed about telling an author how much you love their writing either, because it means the world to them to know how much their words mean to you.

It can be very easy to feel at times that your bookish worth is measured by how many books you have read, or how fast you can get through them, but honestly, maybe the best judge of it is being able to simply say – do you know what, I read some brilliant books this year, and it doesn’t matter if it is two or two hundred.

I guess what I am trying to say is that no matter how challenging 2023 has been, there have been two constants that have helped make it better – brilliant books and truly brilliant bookish friends, and for that I am and will always be forever grateful to all of you.

Wishing you all a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year,

Lots of love,

Clare

xxx

Keep Caring and Carry On

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Reading Aloud Margery and the Boys by William Hutchison

It’s funny how time runs away with you when you are completely unaware and before you know it, it’s November, and Christmas and the New Year are in view.

I have noticed this year that for me, there have been massive changes both personally – the caring element has really taken over my life to be honest, and also I guess professionally – although I don’t know if I can really call my blogging that.

All I know as we come to the end of the year that things ain’t what they used to be, and I was feeling kind of confused about it all.

I have been shouting about books for a long time, and I love reading and talking about books, and it’s still the best feeling when someone contacts you to say that they read a book you recommended and they loved it. It’s really hard not to recommend another twenty to them, but you feel that you must be doing something right!

This year more than ever, there has been a wide range and numerous discussions and posts about book blogging, and with Twitter (still won’t call it X) changing all the time and Instagram having a fine old time monkeying around with that wonderful algorithm, lots of us are scratching our heads about how we can best get the word out about books we love to fellow readers.

A wise woman (thank you @bookishchat!) told me that when you have read and reviewed a book that you should feel that your part is done and that you should move on to the next book. I was getting really caught up in worrying about no one seeing or liking or sharing my posts, but honestly. I think you will never beat the algorithms and you have to post and move on, and hope that someone picks up a book that you have recommended.

For me, this year, this has been brought even more into focus by the fact that the demands on myself as a carer have increased massively. It has been hard, but I have had to admit that I can’t spend so much time writing reviews and thinking of lots of different ways to talk about books. Being involved with the Curae prize and being fortunate enough to meet the incredible writers who have contributed to it has made me really think about what I am doing and where to go from here.

My day is probably different to many of yours, and in fact my life is too. If you had told me twenty two years ago that I would be looking full time after my adult son, that I would have to give up my career, lots of things I took for granted that I would be doing, lots of my dreams, some friends, some family, holidays, nights out with my husband, having friends over, having weekends away, being able to just walk out of the house to go for a walk, or even be able to go into another room and have five minutes to myself, having a lie in, and all the other things that many people do without a second thought – I wouldn’t have believed you.

Yet here I am.

There are currently around 10 million unpaid carers in the U.K. according to Carers UK 2022 Research Data. You may be one, have been one, you may know one – or lots, and honestly – one day it’s likely you may find yourself as one. You may have known the day was coming, or it could come completely out of the blue, but one thing is certain. Your life will be very different, and for me, this year especially, I knew that in order to keep going, I needed to have something to let me be me – even if for only ten minutes.

Reading is always and has always been the very thing that I turn to, but this year has been hectic and full on, and trying to read and blog alongside trying to do everything else has made me feel that 2023 should really be my last year of Years of Reading Selfishly.

Yet something kept me from deleting my accounts and stopping reviewing.

Quite simply, it was the realisation that without that focus, that part of my life that I don’t know what I would do with my days, apart from look after my son and do housework and watch telly, and that’s not enough for me. It never was.

Starting my Years Of Caring project may be a very small fish in a huge pond, but knowing that I am making sure unpaid carers voices are heard, and that people are realising they are carers as a result of hearing others talk about it has just been incredible for me, and I have made some brilliant friends as a result.

It has also made me realise and acknowledge that reading and blogging is not, and should never be a competition. It’s about finding that joy and peace in those moments, be they languishing or snatched, that for that time it’s just you and the words on the page, and that you are transported away from your world if only for a little while. We all started our bookish accounts because we loved reading and shouting about books, and it’s too easy to get caught up in the misconception that if your posts aren’t liked or shared that it somehow means you have failed. We all read and talked and recommended books long before we dipped our toes in the social media sea, and sometimes I think I forget that.

Life is too short to read books you don’t love – and for me I have realised that life is also too short to believe that likes and shares somehow validate you as a reader or blogger. Once I realised that, suddenly all that matters is knowing that I am going to keep talking about and recommending books – however and whenever that works for me.

The End of One Chapter – and the Start of a New One?

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Like thousands of families across the UK this week, Thursday 17th August was a really important date for us. Not only because it was our 27th Wedding Anniversary (I can’t believe it either), but also because it was A level results day for Youngest Years of Reading.

When he found out his results, and he knew that he was finally going to study Sociology at Uni, which is what he had wanted for such a long time, for all of us, there was a mixture of happiness, relief, pride and exhaustion that all seemed to collide at the same time.

Now as we are organising and getting ready for him to go to University, it was only yesterday that another emotion settled into place – sadness. For nearly eighteen years he has been here, and now (quite rightly!) he is getting ready to experience the world without us. It is his time to find his way, and I want him to do it so much, but honestly, I don’t know how I feel about not having him here every day to talk with, to laugh with, to see his eyes rolling at my bad jokes or the embarrassing things I apparently do. My husband calls him my wingman, which he absolutely is. With everything we have gone through as a family, and all the kindness and resilience he has shown, I am so proud of the compassionate and incredible young man he has become, and hope his University finds out how very lucky they are to have him.

The other thing this means is that when he leaves, it will be just my husband, myself and eldest Years of Reading, and although I have been a full time carer for a while, what it brings more sharply into focus is that now, when my husband is at work, it will be just the two of us (plus Jasper the Labrador!) all day every day.

When you look after someone as an unpaid carer, as I’ve explained before, it can be really lonely and isolating, but at least with Youngest Years Of Reading being here, there was a change in the dynamic, a new breath of energy when he burst through the doors at the end of the school day, or came back from a night out, hungry and wanting to tell us all about what had happened.

As there are probably only three of us that will read this post (including my Dad – hi Dad!), I think it’s ok to admit that I am finding being a full time carer really hard at the moment. When the person you care for doesn’t want to go outside the house, and has huge anxiety about everything, and they wake up before six every morning, it’s a long, Groundhog Day every day. I am talking about it because we don’t say it enough. We think as unpaid carers we have to carry on because that’s what we should do, but I want to tell you if you are finding it too much, it’s okay to say that – and at the moment I am.

Half of me also thinks that when Youngest Years Of Reading goes, that it’s the perfect time to stop blogging and focus more on my eldest son, but the other half of me thinks that this maybe could be a chance for me to put more time and energy into pursuing something I love so much, find a new direction, because without reading and blogging, I honestly don’t know what I would do.

Yet increasingly, I’m also feeling a sense of invisibility to the book world because I’m over fifty.

Just because I choose not to make reels or record a video, or be on booktok doesn’t mean I don’t know how to talk about books. I really do, and I think I’m quite good at it too. For the first time in seven years I am feeling left behind and have genuinely wondered whether it’s time for me to stop blogging.

It’s so frustrating when you know how many incredible older bloggers and reviewers there are who write so brilliantly and passionately about books. I feel that there just seems to be this disconnect I can’t work out, and it makes me wonder whether we can change it, or it’s just the way it is, and I just have to carry on and accept it, or stop blogging.

Maybe trying to make sure that those voices and those of carers are heard could be part of my new chapter, and it might just be the thing that makes Youngest Years of Reading leaving home a little easier to bear..

Lots of love,

Clare

Xxx

My Summer of Reading Selfishly

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A Woman Reading in the Woods, 1959 (Life magazine)

I had my Summer Reading all perfectly planned.

A stack of books, selected, piled, all ready for an introduction on Twitter (refuse to call it X), a lovely filtered picture on Instagram and a cheeky post on Threads. There is so much bookish stuff going on – the Booker Prize Longlist, the notabene prize Shortlist, the Diverse Book Awards, the fabulous Women In Translation month, not to mention the books that are coming out in August and all the ones I haven’t managed to read and review yet, and don’t get me started on the books sat on my bookshelf glaring at me..

I don’t know what happened, I sat looking at them all and I just felt completely overwhelmed.

I always feel when you announce to the world “These are the books I want to read this summer”, that there is an obligation to read them all – even if you don’t really love them, because you have put it out there, and as a book blogger, I always try to do what I say!

I ended up with a full on case of The Dreaded Book Slump, not wanting to read anything at all, and instead spent my days watching re-runs of Real Housewives and sat staring at my books.

So this Summer, I am trying to do something a bit different. It might not be for everyone, but for me, I know that with everything else I have going on (hello real life!), that I need to stay interested and feel that reading is a pleasure, not a bookish chore I need to get through – otherwise those Real Housewives are going to get watched a LOT.

This Summer is going to be my Summer Of Reading Selfishly, and if you have read this far, thank you, and you are probably (hopefully) wondering what it means, and whether you could do it too.

I have picked a new pile of books to read over the Summer – in fact, as I write this blog post, they are sat on the table in front of me, and I have decided that I am not going to share what they are.

I am not setting myself any deadlines, I might post a review if I feel like it – although am not quite sure where works anymore – but that’s a whole other blog post. If I love the book I have read – I will tell you about it, if it’s not for me, I won’t say a word, and move on to the next one.

For me, that’s the best bit – this is a win win for everyone! I shout about books I love, the authors know I love their books, and if I read a book from my stack that I don’t love, I just put it down and move onto the next one – and no one knows. More importantly, I don’t feel under any pressure to read and review everything I have in my pile – because I am the only one who knows what’s on there.

So for this August, that’s my Summer Reading sorted, and honestly, for the first time in a long time I am looking forward to just reading for the sake of it. I might even start to remember a time when I used to read without thinking about how I would review it!

One thing is for sure, I promise to let you all know when I read a brilliant book – and here’s to my Summer of Reading Selfishly.

Is It Just Me?

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Here’s the thing.

I’ve been blogging about books since 2017 and have loved every single minute.

Honestly? For the last few years, I have felt that I am shouting into the void, along with eleventy billion other bloggers too. You know when you read a book that’s just so brilliant you want everyone to know about it – there’s only so ways you can say “Trust me, you will love this book, please read it!” How do you not lose heart or lose faith in your judgement when it feels like no one is listening?

I love reading, and I love talking to people about books, but thanks to the constant changes in the algorithm on Twitter and Instagram, I am starting to wonder why, and doubting myself as a reader and blogger.

Recently, I have found it sometimes difficult to be enthusiastic about books, and have been feeling overwhelmed by my reading pile – I can’t get through them fast enough to talk about them, and the reading slumps have been coming more and more frequently. At one point, I started to wonder what was the point of reading and posting about books for publication day, when it feels for me that the views and likes and retweets are less and less with every week.

People will tell you that it shouldn’t matter, that you do it because you love it, and that you are creating an online document of the books you have read and loved. I do love what I do, but I still want to feel that my words are reaching people. Having worked with quite a few authors now, I know how important it is to them that we talk about their books – especially when you find that special one that you want everyone to read.

Then you start to think it must be you – that you have done or said something to offend people, and that in a world of screens and scrolling your posts are whizzed past or ignored.

After some personal decisions were made this week, I realised I could sit around and feel sad – or I could do something about Years Of Reading and take the chance to shake things up and move in a direction that I want to go in.

So here we are.

The funny thing is, that once I had a chance to process everything, I realised that if I was brave enough, that this could actually be the chance for change, for me to sit back and think about what I love doing and what I don’t, and that now my bookish future is up to me.

Reader, I started to think of what I want Years Of Reading to be and have already done a few bookish things way out of my comfort zone – will they come off? I don’t know. The thing is I tried, and at least it’s made me realise that you don’t know unless you ask. For the first time in a while, I feel enthusiastic and inspired about Years Of Reading – because I know that it’s up to me what happens next – and do you know what?

That’s the most exciting thing of all.

And Just Like That, 2022 is done

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I’m not quite sure why I am writing this blog post on the last day of 2022. I haven’t read a huge number of books this year, I’ve been at times lackadaisical in posting on my blog, and have often felt like Twitter and Instagram have been changing the rules so often that I have no clue as to what the best way is to shout about books anymore!

Book blogging has been my thing for such a long time now, and while it’s introduced me to a world where I finally feel that I belong, has given me opportunities I could never have dreamed of, and has given me incredible friendships I now couldn’t be without, I am ending 2022 feeling a bit lost.

I am a firm believer in being honest about my blogging, and as 2022 comes to a close, and 2023 looms large, honestly, I have been feeling overwhelmed with it all at the moment. It’s hard to keep the energy and enthusiasm sometimes – I still love reading but by December (probably like lots of you!) I felt a bit like I was back on the bookish conveyor belt of reading books in a certain order so that I am ready to review them for publication date.

I have taken a complete break from social media over Christmas – and it’s been lovely. I’ve watched a lot of films, spent a lot of time with my family and put my phone down for days – which not surprisingly has meant I have read a lot more! It has been so refreshing to just sit and read without constantly thinking of what I am going to say in my review, and instead have just read for the sake of reading!

There are a few things I know I want to do now. I need to feel confident in my voice again, and find the joy in blogging. For me, it’s hard to keep posting when you feel like no one is listening – I know it shouldn’t matter, but when I read a brilliant book, I just want to make sure as many people as possible know, and honestly, I still get frustrated sometimes because I don’t know the most effective way to do it, and feel like I have let the authors down.

Having a chance to pause over Christmas has also given me time to think and reflect on Years Of Reading Selfishly and what I want it to be going forward next year. I am sure no one is really bothered, but for me I need to feel enthusiastic about it or I just won’t do anything! Perhaps in writing this blog post I am making myself accountable and can look back on it in 2023 to make sure I actually do what I say.

When the brilliant author Harriet Evans wrote her article for The Bookseller this year about how women over 45 love books, and that the book trade should love them back, I was lucky enough to be quoted in the article, and I also felt that Harriet perfectly articulated what I have been thinking for a long time too. As a 52 year old woman, at times I have felt invisible, at one point this year seriously contemplated stopping blogging – but do you know what – I don’t want to lose my voice or feel my thoughts about books don’t matter. There should be room for everyone to talk about the books they love, however they want to do it, and my voice and opinions count – I need to remember that, and make sure that we support each other too.

The other thing I have been thinking about a lot, is how to combine book blogging with being a carer for my adult son. I told you all this year that I am going to keep talking about the realities of caring, because as a society we don’t, and books have given me the perfect peace and space I have needed to recharge this year – because it’s hard and full on sometimes.

In 2023, I want to read and share books written by people who are carers like me, to use my blog as a way to amplify the voices of people whose stories you may not know but need to be heard. I am pulling together a reading pile of books, and am having a think about the best way to do it – more on that soon, but in the meantime I’d also really love it if the publishing industry didn’t do away with online events. Just because book lovers can’t physically be somewhere doesn’t mean we don’t want to take part…

Looking back on what I’ve written it seems like such a lot. It’s up to me now to practise what I have been preaching, but the one thing I know for sure is that while at times I do feel like I am done, that there is also something that keeps me here – and that’s the fact that sharing my love of books and reading brings me joy – and I know that I need that in my life now more than ever.

Here’s to 2023, and all the books we have waiting for us, the love of books that we want to share, and to you, the incredible bookish community who absolutely understand the joy of books, reading and shouting about them!

Lots of love,

Clare

Xxx

What To Do in 2022?

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Here we are in 2022, leaving behind another year of highs and lows, of things that we could never have foreseen happening, nor would have chosen to happen, and yet 2022 hurtled out of nowhere before I really had chance to take in everything that 2021 threw my way.

Last year, I felt that I did quite well in reading lots of books – many of which I loved, and putting together my end of year #MostSelfishReads2021 proved to be even harder as my reading had been in fits and starts according to who I had at home and when!

Still, as always happens at this time of year, I sit and think about book blogging – largely because I am feeling increasingly like I am not very good at it, and as always that I spend too much time reading and not enough time reviewing. I also hit December and felt overwhelmed with it all – not just reviewing, but setting up Two Fond of Books with Amanda (which I am so extraordinarily proud of) and a series of personal events I could not have foreseen last year knocked me for six, including Covid and becoming a full time carer to my adult son when I least expected it .

I think all the things that were happening to me at home meant that for a time I had to put my reading as my last priority rather than my first, and had to admit that I just couldn’t keep up with everyone else who seemed to be posting and blogging so frequently. Then I did that thing I guess lots of bloggers do, and started to question what the point of it all was – I don’t mean that to sound melodramatic, but when life means you can’t read as much as you think you should, you start to wonder what the point of it is. Then I just lost every creative impulse in my body and simply stared at the screen, attempting to write blogs so I could at least have something to show for my reading.

I couldn’t find the words. I can’t tell you how many draft and deleted posts I have on here, but all I know is that for a woman that could previously produce blogs at the drop of the hat, now I was completely lacking in confidence – they all sounded the same, and I felt I was just regurgitating all my previous posts. So I stopped writing reviews, and instead of picking the next book off my pile to make sure I could read and review it for publication day, I picked up a book that I wanted to read, and I can’t tell you how much better I felt as I finally lost myself in a book again without the slightest inclination to review it.

Why am I telling you all this? I guess it’s because I need somewhere to write down what I am feeling – and to let other people know that if you feel that too, it’s ok to admit it. I forget a lot of the time that I am doing all this for free, and sometimes my worry of letting publicists and publishers down (who by the way are the kindest and most supportive people ever) means that I forget this is and always should be a hobby.

Anyway, I think what I am trying to tell myself and anyone else feeling baffled by the world and not quite sure where their blogging is going, is to maybe know that you are not the only one who feels like it, and theres no shame in admitting you can’t find the words at the moment. The books will always be there, and I love the feeling of finding that book that sparks something in me that means I need to write a review all about it to tell the world. I know it will come back, and in the meantime am just enjoying reading for reading’s sake again – and it feels wonderful!

Here’s to 2022, and whatever and whenever you feel like reading, and know that blogging will always be there for you whenever you are ready to return to it.

Lots of love,

Clare

xxx

When Is A Book Blogger Not A Book Blogger?

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This is probably the blog post that I have started to write and delete more than any other. I have to tell you that what I am going to say is not pretty, and to be honest, am probably totally messing up any chance of ever having any proofs ever again, but I can’t sit by and say nothing.

Ready? Deep breath..

Please don’t call yourself a Book Blogger if you don’t read and review books or as has quite rightly been pointed out, if you don’t talk about books or authors on your social media.

Collecting all the books and posting pictures of them is not reviewing them.

I am usually a mild mannered, perfectly likeable 50 year old woman, who came late to book blogging. However, in the three years since I started, there has been an issue that has got me more and more frustrated, and I’m just putting it out there.

There is a whole army of hardworking bloggers out there, who read, review and post about books constantly. It doesn’t matter if it’s a tweet, on goodreads, Amazon, Instagram, your own blog, a podcast, a YouTube video or a witty poem. You have read and reviewed a book and that is all that matters. I am very lucky that some of the Book Blogging community have become my incredibly close friends, and they understand my frustrations and it is with them that I have chatted about not understanding the shift that has happened over the last year or so.

What really got me thinking about this, was a Twitter thread I saw a couple of weeks ago, where a man was saying that he had just finished A Little Life by Hanya Yanagihara, and wanting to know what people thought, had sought out some book blogger reviews. What I thought was really interesting, was that he found some reviews, which acknowledged how traumatic and challenging the book was, but that he also saw many artfully staged pictures, where the book was used as a prop, a cosy backdrop with a mug of coffee and arranged props, and he questioned if the person curating that picture actually understood what the book was about. That opened up a whole debate as to whether people were really reading and reviewing books, or whether it was more about getting likes for the aesthetic of the post. People were also discussing book bloggers generally, and whether they actually read the books they received, or whether it was a case of just being ‘seen’ with the latest books in order to boost their profiles.

This has been something that has been going round in my mind for a while, and I think as a genuine book blogger, it is always really important to step back and think about what I am doing, and how I am presenting myself to the Bookish Community. I have said it before, and I will say it again, it is so easy to get caught up in believing you NEED the latest releases, when in actual fact to be a Book Blogger all you need to do is pick a book, any book and talk about it – that’s it.

Why am I so agitated that I needed to write a blog post about it? Honestly because I think I don’t understand it. How can you call yourself a book blogger if you don’t review any books?

I know how much effort it takes to post about, read and review books. How annoying it is when you have worked really hard to write a review – then no one acknowledges it. What it feels like when you keep shouting about a book you want everyone to know about, and then worry that the author and publisher will get fed up of seeing you talk about it. How gutting it is to see people receiving a book you wanted to read and review, then never hearing them mention it again. The buzz you get when the author tells you they loved your review, the joy you get when they retweet or quote your review. The fact that sometimes the publisher or publicist you contact will agree to send you the book you ask for – because they know you will genuinely read and review it. The absolute best thing for me is when you have talked about a book, and someone contacts you to tell you that they bought a book you recommended – and loved it.

I guess what I’m trying to say is ask for and collect all the books you want, that’s brilliant that you love books just as much as I do. Fill your boots – take all the pictures you want, and get all the likes you can, and show them off however you want. Just please, for all our sakes, don’t call yourself a Book Blogger – because until you start reading and reviewing those books – I don’t think you can call yourself one.