I called this site “A Study of Reading Habits,” but really I don’t write about my reading habits much. I can describe my habits, though. I think I’ll describe them according to why I read them.

Comfort

Mainly, I read in bed, just before I go to sleep. If I read something too troubling or thought-provoking or scary at that time, then either I won’t fall asleep or I’ll fall asleep and have terrible dreams. So before bed, I tend to read genre novels–because I know sort of what to expect. And I especially like to read genre novels (mysteries and fantasy novels, with some science fiction) that are part of a series, because then I really, really know what to expect and can judge whether I should be reading it before bed. And in addition to that, I tend to re-read a lot of my series novels.

In the past few months, for example, I’ve re-read for bajillionth time all the Lindsey Davis/Didius Falco Roman mystery novels. Plus I read the most recent two of those for the first time. That’s 18 novels.

I also re-read four old Barbara Hambly novels (the Dark books, plus A Stranger at the Wedding) and two newer ones (the Raven sisters books). I re-read an old Tanya Huff book (The Fire’s Stone) and the sixth Harry Potter and all the Vimes books by Terry Pratchett.

I’m sure I re-read more than that, but that’s all I can think of right now.

Entertainment

In the past few months, I read some books I hadn’t read before: the new Harry Potter and a young adult novel called Haters. Those were both entertaining. I read Haters because I went to a writing conference and my workshop teacher was the author, Alisa Valdes-Rodriguez. (She was a hilarious and attentive teacher, and she’s a great writer.)

And I got the new Tanya Huff book in the her space opera series, which rocks (both the series and the new book). I listened to two new Charlaine Harris books in series I’ve been reading (the one about the vampires and the one about the chick who feels dead people).

Then a blog entry within a blog entry got me interested in Nicola Griffith, so I tracked down her first two Aud Torvingen books, The Blue Place and Stay, which are pretty cool noirish kind of books. I like them a lot, though in the second one, Aud is recovering from the death of someone close to her, and I kept being annoyed because that character never felt to me like a fully developed character, so I can’t figure out why Aud is so fucked up over it. But aside from that, these books are good, and I’m planning to get ahold of the third one.

Finally, I read Michael Chabon’s new novel, The Yiddish Policeman’s Union, which was so good I can’t even write about it.

Sports/Fitness

I like to read books and magazines about the physical activities I enjoy, so I read a lot of stuff about yoga and running and occasionally some stuff about bicycling. I . . . somehow never end up reading a whole book, though, because I skip over the stuff I already know and troll the index for things I’m interested in.

A few months back, though, I got re-interested in skating, so I read most of Rollergirl (about Austin’s recent roller derby resurgence) and skimmed Inline! (a how-to guide). I read only part of these books not because they’re bad or anything. I got more interested in doing some actual skating, so my non-bedtime reading time was limited. (No nonfiction at bedtime. I don’t know why. This is just a rule.) And then I hurt my stupid hip, so I had to lay off skating altogether, and I certainly didn’t want to read about it.

I skimmed through Chi Running, Body, Mind, and Sport, and Yoga for Depression. I’ve just started Jeff Davis’s book about yoga and writing, called The Journey from the Center to the Page (also because of the writing conference).

Influence of Other People

My brother has gotten interested in chef-ing and recommended some audiobooks about it, so I listened to Kitchen Confidential (I know, a decade after everyone else read it) and I’m now listening to Bill Buford’s Heat. My conclusion so far is that restaurant kitchens are just like I remember them, even though the ones I worked in were all crappy franchises and not at all like the starred restaurants described in those books. And also, chefs are a bunch of nutty motherfuckers.

I guess there are other reasons I read, too, but these have been the ones influencing my reading this year.

I listened to the final Lemony Snicket book, and it was all right. I kind of got burned out on those books, but this one got me interested again. I . . . would like to say something smart, but it was a few months ago and now I forgot all the smart stuff I thought at the time. Beth wrote a lot about it, so go read that.

I’ve been in a mood for a few months now that causes me to need comedy around me at all times. So I’ve been downloading all the Terry Pratchett books that Audible has to offer and having little binges. I went on a Vimes binge, then a Granny Weatherwax binge, and now I’m on a Susan/Death binge. I never go on a Rincewind binge; Rincewind is boring. But if you like Pratchett and you need some funny, you can’t go wrong with any of those other main characters. I particularly enjoyed Hogfather, which is a good Christmasy sort of thing to listen to. Both the readers on the Audible recordings are good, too—fun to hear.

Ooo, I also read the third book in Pratchett’s Tiffany Aching series, Wintersmith. It’s enjoyable. I like Tiffany, and of course Granny Weatherwax was in this one, too. And the Nac Mac Feegle. I listened to the previous two books in this series, read by Stephen Briggs, and he does the Feegles really well.

And, finally, I read a bunch more C.J. Cherryh books. Since I’ve read all the Foreigner series currently published, I started on the Fortress series. I like it, but not as well as I like the Foreigner books. I think Cherryh is trying a little too hard to be deep and mysterious with this one, and really I got a little bogged down in Tristen’s endless self-doubt and everybody else’s endless faith in him. I have read all the books in this series except the newest one, Fortress of Ice. I think I’ll wait until I can get it from the library. Even though the last book ended on a cliffhanger, I’m kind of tired of all the earnest good wishes of everybody in these books. I need to take a break and read some meanness.

I found Frank Portman’s King Dork in my bookmarks one day a few weeks ago. This means that at some point, someone recommended it to me. I downloaded it from Audible, since I needed something entertaining after slogging through all the bad news about American agriculture in that Pollan book.

And it was very entertaining. The reader was good. The story was interesting–a 14-year-old boy reads his dead father’s old novels and tries to figure out how he died. It was kind of sad at times, but most of all, it was funny. I loved all the band names and plans for album art. The book is very male-focused in the sense that there’s a lot in there about tits and blow jobs, but still, it’s funny.

I was stalling for so long with moving my old book site over here that I have read approximately a bazillion books since my last update.

The ones I can remember:

Watchmen, by Alan Moore. I am almost certain I read this back in the early 90s. I knew who the characters were. But when I (re?)read it, I didn’t remember a single bit of the plot. I liked it better than I thought I did. And…I guess that’s all I have to say about it. I had smart ideas when I read it months ago–I swear I did!

Dead Beat, by Jim Butcher. Somehow, whenever there hasn’t been a new “Harry Dresden, Wizard” urban fantasy book in a while, I think I don’t really like them much. But then another one comes out and I get hold of it and ignore every man and cat in my life until I’ve gotten through it. So I guess I like these books. They are a lot like the Rachel Caine books I’ve written about before—nonstop action and lots of shit blowing up.

About a Boy, by Nick Hornby. On my quest to read all the Hornby books, I got this one and I really liked it. I’ve seen the movie a few times, so I couldn’t help comparing. Actually, I think I have seen all the Hornby movies, so whenever I read his books I guess I’m doomed to compare. He’s so good at making me like stupid, selfish, spoiled, bratty men. It’s like magic.

The 8:55 to Baghdad: From London to Iraq on the Trail of Agatha Christie and the Orient Express, by Andrew Eames. I read this for my book club, and I didn’t like it much. I almost never like travelogues, but I thought this one might be cool with the Agatha Christie theme (though I don’t really like her books, either). Somehow, even though Eames went through intriguing places like Iraq and Serbia, the book was just kind of limp.

Annnddd then I succumbed to more of my anxiety- and depression-fueled re-reading, wherein I reach for whatever is entertaining and, above all, comfortable. So I re-read the entire Benjamin January series by Barbara Hambly (they sort of fall off in entertainment value in the most recent few books) and all of the Vimes books by Terry Pratchett (they just get better and better).

I also listened to Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants (shut up—that was clearly comfort listening, man). And I heard abridged versions of David Rakoff’s Don’t Get Too Comfortable and Fraud (funny; the recordings are probably better than the print versions, because his voice is very important for the stories).

Probably there is more, but I can’t remember.

My friend and officemate, Ubereditor, got me a book called Sabriel, a young adult fantasy novel. I read it and loved it and discovered that it was the first in a trilogy, called the Abhorsen trilogy, by Garth Nix. So I got the other two books (Lirael and Abhorsen) and loved those, too.

Sabriel is a sort-of-typical fantasy novel, with a journey and swords and all that. But it’s not set in an entirely typical world. The world is kind of like the 1940s–the technology is like that, anyway. And there are no elves. The next two books also have Sabriel in them, but they take place about 20 years later, and one of the main characters is Sabriel’s son.

I wish I’d written about these books when I actually read them, which was almost two months ago. Now all I have left are vague pronouncements like “they’re really good books!” But they are. The story–especially in the last two books–is nice and complex, and, as I always say when I like a book, the character development is complex as well.

Filled with love for Mr. Nix, I got the first book of another series by him on audio. It’s Mister Monday, which I gather is not a young adult novel, but a novel more for kids in middle school. Mister Monday was a completely annoying book, and it was annoying in just the same way the Lemony Snicket books can be annoying. There’s an awful lot of clever language stuff and twisted concepts, but at base the plot is very simple and the characters have clockwork motivations. There is never any doubt that the main character is going to behave in a heroic fashion. Bleh.

So I highly recommend Nix’s young adult novels, but unless you are actually a middle schooler or even an elementary school student, skip the other stuff.