january, the trial month is over
welcome to 2025 (+ books i read in january)
December to January should feel like flipping another page in the calendar—as we’ve done it 11 times before. Instead, it feels more like we’re tiptoeing our way in, trying to find our bearings. Whether we set resolutions, goals, or intentions (or none of the above), this whole new year thing is hard to ignore. At least for me. Luckily, I’ve been feeling more motivated. 2024 dragged, and I was ready to turn the page and open a fresh one—metaphorically or not (more on that here).
I’ve been building new habits, focusing on one at a time to avoid feeling overwhelmed and figuring out what works for me. I work four days a week, and while these used to be set in stone, January threw me for a loop—my work schedule was all over the place. I’m not sure what happened. This month, I’ll have set days again, giving me more room to dedicate time to creativity, learning and resting. Organisation and clarity are grounding for me—they help me stay present, not get lost in overthinking the future, and enjoy the moment. January has felt like a free trial month, and February feels like the true start of 2025.
my word for 2025
If I had to pick a word—or rather two—for the year, it would be to be present.
This idea stood out to me while reading All About Love: New Visions by bell hooks. I’ve been savouring this book over the last two months, underlining sentences that resonated with me, nodding in agreement, and snarking when certain lines from 1999 still rang true two decades later. I’ll touch more on books in a moment, but this one was a clear favourite and will stay with me for a long time.
One section where bell hooks writes about fully living in the present struck a chord. Here’s a quote that feels especially relevant to all this resolution talk:
“To be here now does not mean that we do not make plans but that we learn to give the making of future plans only a small amount of energy. And once future plans are made, we release our attachment to them. Sometimes it helps to write down our plans for the future and put them away, out of sight and out of mind.”
I love the idea of setting intentions as a guiding thread for the year, but I also don’t want to let goals and plans overshadow the experience of actually living. Take this morning, for example, I skipped my usual plan of getting out of bed early and enjoying a slow routine. I stayed under the duvet for a bit longer because I needed it. I was on my period, had woken up with a migraine, and being present and listening to my body felt like the right thing to do. A warm shower afterwards also helped immensely.
In the spirit of being more present, I’ve also been more social this month—even with back-to-back outings. Working in hospitality and interacting with people for eight hours can be draining for an introvert like me. By the end of the day, my social battery is usually drained, and I need plenty of me-time to recharge—so I’m off the grid this weekend. But it still felt good to show up and be there.
Storm Éowyn hit Ireland, the Isle of Man, and the United Kingdom on 24 January 2025. Governments issued red warnings, advising people to stay inside as the storm brought winds up to 135 mph (217 km/h). Everything shut down—schools, shops, railroads, airports—and the gallery where I work closed for the day.
Having an unexpected “free day” off work felt odd at first, almost reminiscent of the first 2020 lockdown. We were stuck indoors on alert. Thankfully, the damages in Edinburgh were minor compared to other areas, though I kept nervously watching the tree outside my window, hoping it wouldn’t topple over as it had for one of my colleagues.
While staring at that tree stayed at the forefront of my mind, I took the opportunity to—yes—be present. This quiet day became a chance to read for a couple of hours, edit a vlog, write, and simply slow down—a much-needed break.
We often believe disasters won’t happen to us, but while the storm had little impact on my life, it served as a reminder to put things into perspective.
the january bookmarks
I must say, all the stunning book content on Substack rejuvenated my reading. I found myself browsing my bookshelf for hidden gems, heading to the library inspired by the gorgeous recommendations I discovered here, and treating myself to a few second-hand treasures. This January, I felt especially motivated to dive into new works and explore different worlds.
And the Stones Cry Out by Clara Dupont-Monod (tr. Ben Faccini)
It was such a great feeling to begin the year with a 5-star read.
And the Stones Cry Out tells the story of a maladapted boy with soft cheeks, dancing black eyes, always lying down, an eternal baby. Each part is narrated through the perspectives of his siblings but told through the eyes of ancient stones embedded in the family courtyard walls.
At first, the idea of a material object like stones narrating the story is unsettling, but it quickly becomes natural. The stones become silent, unwavering witnesses to the family’s love, struggles, and everyday life.
Though the pacing is slow, it never drags. Instead, it feels purposeful. It allowed me to stand beside the stones, quietly observing the family. Every page is a treasure. Thank you, Yaprak, for this stunning recommendation.
“To love was, in fact, to drown in the eyes of another, even if those eyes were blind.”
“Something in him has become stone, which doesn’t mean that he’s numb – more that he’s resilient, steady, unflinchingly the same, one day to the next.”
“No-one can guess that behind this besuited manager lies a strange little brother with dancing eyes.”
Gideon the Ninth by Tamsyn Muir
My next read was a sharp contrast to the calm serenity of And the Stones Cry Out. Charles Stross’ review on Gideon the Ninth’s cover says: “Lesbian necromancers explore a haunted gothic palace in space!” Honestly, that’s all you need to know.
I’d heard one of my favourite BookTubers, cari can read, rave about it repeatedly. At first, the whole “necromancer” thing didn’t appeal to me, but one day, I decided to give it a go. Within minutes of starting the audiobook, I was completely hooked.
This book has everything I want from fantasy: a strong plot, impeccable world-building, nuanced and well-crafted characters, a perfectly balanced pace, and razor-sharp banter. The narrative is wild—sometimes nonsensical—but in the most brilliant way. Tamsyn Muir’s writing is immersive. The world she’s created is rich, detailed, and yet surprisingly easy to follow. And the best part? This is only the first book in The Locked Tomb series. I can’t wait to dive into the next ones—they sound like the perfect read to break out of a reading slump.
As Young as This by Roxy Dunn
After the high of Gideon the Ninth, I turned to something less intense and delightfully deranged. I decided to try a contemporary read, As Young as This, but it turned out to be rather underwhelming.
The protagonist, Margot, felt two-dimensional. She wasn’t unlikeable, just unremarkable—lacking depth and personality. The first half of the book is about her twenties, drifting from one relationship to another, which felt tedious. Perhaps I’ve outgrown these kinds of narratives.
When Margot enters her thirties, there’s a glimmer of potential, but nothing substantial develops. In the end, it left me feeling indifferent.
I Who Have Never Known Men by Jacqueline Harpman (tr. Ros Schwartz)
Forty women live imprisoned in an underground cage, guarded and cut off from the world. They don’t know why they’re there, and their memories of life before captivity are hazy. One day, an alarm rings, and they escape into the strange, desolate world above ground.
I’m partial to dystopia. It often feels eerily close to reality. I Who Have Never Known Men stunned me. For such a short book, it’s incredibly powerful—quiet, contemplative, and deeply emotional. It made me feel like I was part of this group of women, following their journey and drawing strength from their quiet resilience.
To Shape a Dragon's Breath by Moniquill Blackgoose
My first DNF of 2025—but a soft DNF at 34%. This is very much a “it’s not the book, it’s me” situation. The story is intriguing, the writing is beautiful, and the Indigenous/coloniser background is brilliant. However, I don’t think I’m the target audience. It feels more suited to fans of younger YA fiction, so if that’s your thing, I’d recommend giving it a go.
All About Love: New Visions by bell hooks
As you can imagine from what I mentioned earlier, I loved All About Love. bell hooks’ words are magic. Divided into thirteen sections, the book is packed with insights, and I found myself underlining nearly every page. It’s astonishing (and disheartening) how relevant it remains, despite being first published in 1999. The fact that a certain man is president again is a stark reminder of how little progress society has made.
Despite this, All About Love doesn’t feel hopeless. It’s reflective, full of hope, and deeply inspiring—a book I know I’ll keep returning to, whether for a full reread or just to linger on specific passages. I’m looking forward to reading another bell hooks work from my shelves, Bone Black.
“The word ‘love’ is most often defined as a noun, yet all the more astute theorists of love acknowledge that we would all love better if we used it as a verb.”
“When we can be alone, we can be with others without using them as means of escape.”
“Choosing to love rather than falling in love.”
The Silence of Bones by June Hur
The Silence of Bones is a YA historical mystery set in 19th-century Joseon (Korea). As someone who loves historical fiction, I found the setting captivating. Fictional stories set against specific historical backdrops often grip me.
Sixteen-year-old Seol, an orphan, is indentured to the police bureau, where she assists a young inspector in investigating the murder of a noblewoman.
Thankfully, the story didn’t turn into a romance. The atmospheric writing transported me to the past, delving into themes of gender, religion, and class in 19th-century Korea. That said, the pacing felt uneven at times, and one subplot didn’t fully resonate with me. While the story overall kept me engaged, the execution of certain elements left me slightly confused. Still, I’m intrigued enough to explore more of June Hur’s work.
Evenings and Weekends by Oisín McKenna
“London, 2019. It’s the hottest June on record, and a whale is stuck in the Thames.” What better way to escape the winter chill than with a story set during a heatwave?
As someone who’s lived through London heatwaves, I can confirm that McKenna captures the experience perfectly—the suffocating humidity, sleepless nights with a fan buzzing, and the way the city feels unbearable, no matter where you go. I even remembered the real-life whale story, though it happened in 2021.
I love books where characters’ lives intertwine loosely, connected by threads like relationships, shared experiences, or even a building—like in Christodora by Tim Murphy, which will always remain one of my favourite books. Here, the Irish heritage of McKenna’s characters ties them together. Themes of belonging—feeling at home yet disconnected in multicultural London—resonated deeply with me.
While I didn’t root for any particular character, the book as a whole worked beautifully.
Overall, January—trial month or not—was a good one. There were ups and downs, as always, but I felt that fresh, motivating new year energy, and I’m holding onto it for as long as I can.
Did January feel like a ‘trial month’ for you as well? I’d love to hear what you’ve been up to—or if any book you read really stuck with you. I’m always up for more recommendations.
Until next time,
Amandine
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Aw I watch cari cakes too! thank you for sharing all your recommendations, I'm curious about And the Stones Cry Out. just signed up to your youtube, love the cosy vibe x