I’ll say it: narratives can be over-rated.

In lesser hands it would’ve been a drag, possibly unreadable.

A welcome addition to the time travel catalogue of love (and insanely attractive book covers).

Math has a funny of generally being right, and in this case, comforting.

This book came out of nowhere for me from an author I’d never heard of, but I’m paying attention now.

Mayle sold us all a downright cozy dream.

“God, how we get our fingers in each other’s clay.”

Grief is a go-to emotion for a reason.

There’s something about reading “the best” of something that just feels exciting and as I dabble in my own writing, influential.

This is an excellent book for sympathizing with your child’s development struggles.

How do you fit this much inside one person’s head?

I kept a tiny human alive for a whole year! And this book helped with that.

The author taps into the current foreboding mood of today.

One half like reading a speculative sci-fi thriller, the other like reading a physics textbook. And in this case, it’s a combo that works.

In terms of parenting and babies, the advice inside has been priceless.

A timeless romance, aged up but young at heart.

I can’t tell if I loved this or found it frustrating. Maybe both by the end.

I have an overwhelming urgency to tell you not to read this on an airplane, for many reasons.

The writing is worth experiencing. Even if it makes you feel small, it knows you and you’ll know it.

Saramago is Portugal’s patron saint of Literature, and now I know why.