This is the first year I’ve done this, and I only started recording mid-way through year. In looking this list, I feel I’ve missed a handful.
How Insects Work is by no means a comprehensive work, but it is a fantastic introduction with enough breadth to give one the foundational knowledge they’ll need to go deeper. For a novice, she explores the technical sides of biomechanics and chemistry without drowning the reader in specifics, and while it contains much of the same content as a textbook, I found the pace and curious tidbits thrown it an easy read.
For Love of Insects is an absolute delight of a book, resting comfortably on the border of an academic paper and romantic naturalism. The content, which is as much chemistry as it is entomology, gave me insight into the stink bugs (shield bugs) I’ve come across on my hikes in the Taipei area—most particularly in one unfortunate encounter that left me with a highly irritated patch of skin that took well over a week to resolve. This book is something I will undoubtedly come back to in the near future, both as reference material and for pleasure.
Between Two Fires, a book by Christopher Buehlman, takes place in France during the mid-14th century, at the time of the Black Death. It follows a young girl who has lost her family, a knight who has lost his way, and a priest who has lost his flock due to desire. Forming an unlikely trio, they head across a country besieged by death, famine, and the underworld itself in order to save the world from a war in heaven that has spilled over onto Earth.
This book is by no means a masterpiece, but the writing is decent and the story tickles the same region of my brain that enjoys things like the paranormal detective work of John Constantine. It is a guilty pleasure, riddled with fights, demons, and heroics. The ending was somewhat stilted and difficult to follow, though in hindsight that was primarily due to the preceding bulk of the book being so straightforward. I can recommend it as an afternoon read, or something to tear through on a long international flight.
This book unfolds in such a way that any full review will come dangerously close to spoiling it. There is a steampunk undertone, well-crafted characters and just enough with each chapter to make you feel as if you’ve almost got it. I enjoyed the first two-thirds more than the last third, though that’s only because the Arctic exploration was so interesting. There’s a bit of a heartstring tug as well.
Christophe Chabouté says more with a few pages of drawings and a handful of words than most can say in a feature-length film. This is a short book, and you could probably finish it on a commute—if you don’t mind shedding a tear in front of your fellow passengers. Without giving away too much, this is a story about loneliness and connection. About a man who has lived his whole life in a lighthouse on a rocky outcropping, and another who has framed himself as he expects the world to see him. The illustrations do as much or more of the emotional lifting as the words, and while in a sense they are sparse and simple, they have a certain beauty to them. If you come across this book, I highly recommend giving it a read.
