Tag Archives: books

Silver Elite: Romantasy for Your Broken Attention Span

If you are concerned that you can no longer read a full book because your attention has been fragmented and blown apart by social media and the internet, you are not alone. The feeling that sitting and slowly absorbing a dense novel might be a kind of torture – or an impossibility akin to a couch to marathon pace – is shared. And you can make arguments about whether long form reading needs to be privileged over something like long form listening or watching (though if my experience is any guide, I don’t bring focused attention to those tasks either – I long form listen while I’m also running or cleaning, and I haven’t watched a full length movie without scrolling at the same time in years). But for me there is something particular about the long, deep read – distinct from audiobooks (and I know some of you will want to fight me on the hierarchy of physical book v audiobook – ‘it’s all a story!’ whatever whatever). Something to the mindfulness that requires (invites? encourages?) doing nothing but reading.

So if that’s a hard(er) experience for you than it used to be let me offer that you are not alone. And that for some, the answer to the challenge of concentration has been romantasy. The portmanteau genre bridging romance and fantasy first came to my attention with Fourth Wing (which I read but can’t find the review) and at the time I thought “this is ridiculous,” and also “I cannot put this down.” Is it the erotica? Maybe. Or the relentless plot pace of Something Is Always About To Happen That Is Very Dramatic? Maybe. It certainly isn’t the quality of the writing or the character development.

The same is absolutely true of Dani Francis’ Silver Elite a sort of hunger games meets fifty shades of grey meets harry potter (in that there are elements of near-children battling while at school while also having explicit sex). Though to my credit (*she said with some defensiveness*) I came to this book through the recommendation of the New York Times and so had some vague sense that it would be #literary and #worthy

If you are okay to free yourself from ideas that reading need be an entirely intellectual exercise – or that you need focused thematic development for something to be good – you might just find true enjoyment in Silver Elite. There’s a bit of work to get oriented to the world building and some gymnastics to sort out the character hierarchy, but once you’re through that it’s just a fun romp through plot and romance. A bodily exercise of enjoyment rather than a brain one.

And the strangest thing will happen. You’ll be standing in line, or waiting between meetings, or finished putting the kids to bed and instead of reaching for your phone to scroll as if there might be an answer to the abyss at the bottom of the feed, you instead want to reach for your book. And you start to read promising yourself just a few pages before you get on to doing X or Y and that beautiful, magical feeling of two hours disappearing happens and you return to this world reminded of what it is to be focused, absorbed and transported.

Now for suggestions for books that do the same without requiring me to blush deeply while reading it in public. Or better still, the things I need to do to finally, at last and fully break my phone addiction. Yes, I’m open to throwing it down a well and never using the internet again.

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Filed under Bestseller, Fiction

Saving Time: Read it before the new year?

I came to Jenny Odell’s Saving Time after reading Teaching Where You Are with my team. Teaching Where You Are had arguments about slow pedagogy and the relentless pace of post-secondary work that I found a useful reminder both of colonial efforts to organize time for Productivity and Efficiency. Around the same time I heard Odell on a podcast and so picked up Saving Time.

It is – perhaps with purpose – a slow read. There’s a lot of referencing other things and then referencing of the text itself and a sort of spiralling of the ideas on top of one another. I came away though having a renewed understanding that the constant experience of fast- short- not-enough time that I live in is a consequence of capital and gender, and that my temporal existence is eased by my race and class and that time, too, can be weaponized in arguments of more efficiency, more productivity, who gets to ‘afford’ leisure and under whose time crush that leisure comes.

The idea that women experience the press of time differently wasn’t a new idea to me – I could haven’t passed first year women’s studies without an awareness of the free domestic and emotional labour extracted – but there was a fresh pierce to it in my current reading moment, even as I reflected on the privilege I hold paying for childcare when I need it.

Perhaps the freshest idea for me – and in some ways the most terrifying and comforting – was the reminder of the excess boundaries of planetary time that are not concerned with the whisper of a moment of my life – and certainly not whether I get the laundry folded today, or a report filed that no one was going to read anyway. And with that length the existential angst and terror of our unfolding climate catastrophe a reminder from Odell that the future is long, too, and we might still write parts of it.

So in a year when the argument of AI has been More, Faster, Efficient, More, Faster, Productivity – alongside the worrisome avoidance of any conversation about the environmental cost of doing so – I’d recommend Saving Time (and yes, read that both ways – both hoarding your time for later, and that it is time to save the planet) for your 2026 first read.

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Filed under Non-fiction, Prize Winner

Dream State: Strong start and then

I made a mistake in telling a few friends to read Eric Puchner’s Dream State when I was only a third of the way in. It’s such a strong start – evocative writing, a pulling theme (how does one major decision or one major event shape the rest of your life?), interesting characters. Set amid the present and near future of climate catastrophe to make the aging of the characters over the course of the novel vivid against what can feel in our incremental experience of time unnoticed in the sharp changes for the reader between decades for a glacier or a lake or an endangered species.

And it’s not like the writing changed – the scene on the mountain with Elias is haunting and beautiful – it’s more I lost conviction that I knew why any of the characters were making any of their decisions. I suspect it’s a form thing – with the big jumps in time (with the exception of one incredible passage where the two children age together over summers over the course of the passage and the reader feels the slipperiness of time in the verb tenses and the dialogue) happen between chapters the reader is given snapshot moments to make sense of Big character decisions, and honestly, so much happens ‘off stage’ that it’s hard to believe the impact of those decisions on the characters and how they behave next. We have to take it on the faith of third person narration that yes, indeed, Garret and Cece still love on another because that’s what a long marriage means? I guess?

So sorry to M. and K. for forcefully recommending this one before reaching the end. If you haven’t yet started it, I’d say it would be a fine beach read, but not something I’d interrupt a year of comic book reading to go out and get.

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Filed under American literature, Book I'll Forget I Read, Fiction

Wild Dark Shore: Eco-parenting-elegy

I’m trying to remember the name of the book I reviewed here that was about the near future, climate catastrophe, parenting, and some biblical themes. I really liked it. The bible part is what did it: A Children’s Bible.

Why am I trying to remember that one? Because Charlotte McConaghy’s Wild Dark Shore reminded me of it – similar theme of how to parent amid the climate collapse, of how to not only explain to our children the destruction and loss, but to prepare them for the present and future of suffering and inequality and grief.

Wild Dark Shore manages to keep you reading what might otherwise be too overwhelming an indictment of our inaction and paralysis of the scale of the problem by placing the themes amid a gentle mystery and a (albeit somewhat implausible) romance.

The mystery: a woman washes up on the shores of Shearwater island – a remote island where there is one family who are there to protect Earth’s last seed banks until the seeds can be moved to a safer location (the sea levels are rising, permafrost melting and the seed bank is no longer safe) (if such a location even exists). As she recovers and we learn why she is there, she begins to uncover suspicious things and witness strange behaviours from the family. What, the reader wonders along with her, happened here.

From there plenty of implausible plot points follow – and I enjoyed and liked the book too much to take much issue with them – but there is a host of things that just… didn’t seem likely (at all), but I allowed because the writing was beautiful and, perhaps, because I wanted them to be possible (the romance not the least of them).

But what the book does best (at least, I think) is make palpable the choices that climate catastrophe have forced on those parts of the world already most impacted and will – are – forcing on the privileged like me through the pressing decisions around the seeds, but also – and most evocatively – in the choices about what to do with/for/by our children. What sacrifices ought we have made already or should we be making to the future (and no, this isn’t an argument for effective altruism, more a practical question of what can one generation reasonably do to better the outcomes for the next).

The climactic scene – while perhaps too on the nose and overly layered with Symbol – brings this question to a head and the reader is left mourning not just the particular loss for the family, but through this synecdoche our greater loss as a planet.

Anyway. It’s not a perfect book by any stretch, but it will make you feel something about our planet and our connection to it – and that is no small feat.

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Filed under Fiction