Books I Read in February, 2025

I’m pleased to be getting this bookpost out before the middle of the month — it’s been a while since I managed that. But hunkering down to put it together has been a way to anchor myself these last few mornings. So much for a Canadian to feel sad and angry and fearful about at the moment; I’d like to release those feelings temporarily in the interest of emotional and physical health (which we all need to conserve for “the resistance,” whatever that may mean to each of us). And chatting with you about books seems a hopeful way to do that. I’ve read some good ones over the past weeks, and I’m sure some of you have as well. . .

Most of what I read in February was light enough — popular fiction — or, if more “literary,” was escapist in the sense of taking me “away from all this,” even if it took me to other challenges faced by humanity at different times, in different places. Let me tell you what I read, and then perhaps you’ll return the favour and we can enjoy the distraction of a good ol’ book chat!

I say this every book post now, for those who are new here and as a reminder to regular readers: As usual, the numbering comes from my annual handwritten reading journal, and the italicized text below is directly transcribed from that journal’s pages (once upon a time, I simply included photographs of those pages, but too many of you found my handwriting tough to decipher, especially in the photographed format). Notes to myself, that is, so that I can remember a book and remember my response to it, rather than any attempt at a more polished, edited review.

I’ve used regular font for any additions to my journal notes and included references to any posts from my Instagram Reading account.

Here’s my February 2025 list:

8. The Dentist. Tim Sullivan. Mystery/crime novel; Police Procedural; Detective George Cross series; Autistic detective; Set in Bristol, England.

Thanks to “Wendy of York” for recommending this series. Given that Sullivan’s books are apparently so popular, I was surprised I couldn’t find them in the Vancouver Public Libreary catalogue, but got this one specially priced on Kobo for only $1.99!

I’m looking forward to reading more in this series. Detective George Cross’s autism makes his methodology, perspective, behaviour within a hierarchy, and uncompromising commitment to truth especially pertinent to the genre of police procedural. And while his persistence, his inability to be dishonest, and his general oddness irritate many — his work partner and his direct superior alike — his work ethic and his unique mix of intuition and logic win over enough supporters to allow him to resolve a difficult cold case.

My Instagram post is here.

9. Steal Like an Artist. Austin Kleon. Art/Creativity; Self-help.

Encouragement, inspiration, and exhortation from an unconventional (and very successful) Influencer/Creative. A Zine-style book, catchy poster-like illustrations throughout with generally pithy advice.

Steal Like an Artist: Find artists/creatives whose work you admire and copy enough to find your way, gradually, to your own style. Spiral from there to follow other artists, or read books about this artists, what music they like, etc. Inspiration is everywhere.

I borrowed this from the library, but I could see owning a copy to keep above my desk so as to have it at hand when I need a boost of energy and/or inspiration.

10. Light a Penny Candle. Maeve Binchy. Popular fiction; Domestic Fiction; Romance; Friendship; Historical Fiction; Irish history; mid-20th Century; Ireland; London; Feminist.

I was reluctant at first to reread this, but did because it was the choice for a meeting of the Book Club at the Irish Consulate here (and thanks to Joanne for letting me know about the book club). But I was pleasantly surprised to discover this 1982 “chicklit cozy” from a new perspective — some 40 years after I’d first turned its pages. For all the Romance genre tropes and the expectations of an exoticized old-country Ireland, Binchy’s done something subversive, especially considering the role of the Catholic Church in Ireland at the time it was written.

The restrictions against birth control — never mind abortion! — the expectation that a good wife would stay loyal to an alcoholic husband, tolerate domestic abuse, etc. Binchy exposes all of this and above all, she writes about the power of female friendship and the strength of women in supporting each other. Made me think it would be interesting to read it alongside Marilyn French’s The Women’s Room (published 5 years earlier) — French’s is obviously the more literary novel, but albeit the different cultures within which each was writing, the books do some similar work.

11. The House of Doors. Tan Twan Eng. Literary fiction; Historical fiction; Colonial history; Malaysian history; Somerset Maugham; Sun Yat Sen; Domestic fiction.

Beautifully written novel pivoting around a 1921 visit to colonial Penang by William Somerset Maugham and his secretary/companion/lover Gerald Hoxton where they were hosted at the well-appointed colonial estate of an old friend of Maugham’s, Robert, and Robert’s wife, Lesley.

While there, Maugham receives bad news about a financial investment and despairs of finding a story to tell that will allow him to recoup his losses. Meanwhile, unhappy in her marriage, Lesley gradually overcomes her distaste — nearly revulsion, to be more precise — at her guest’s homosexuality and begins to confide in him. It’s a complex web of narratives, tying together Sun Yat Sen; one of his followers whom Lesley has befriended; a murder trial of an Englishwoman whose defense is that the man she killed was attempting to rape her; and Lesley’s discovery of duplicity in her marriage.

Years later, now a widow resettled in Doorfontein, South Africa, 1947, as the Prologue tells us, Lesley remembers the many nights over which she told her story to WSM — and she receives a copy of the book he has made from it. And is able to close a narrative on a personal story whose ending she’s always wondered about. . .

Romance, intrigue, gorgeous prose, a setting deftly evoked, and compelling characters. A novel of manners that peels back layers of race, class, gender, & sexuality. Easy to see why this was longlisted for the 2023 Booker prize.

12. Jane Eyre. Charlotte Brontë. Literary novel; Victorian literature; Gothic novel; bildungsroman; coming-of-age; Feminist; Romance; early 19th-century Northern England; orphan.

I reread this because S. mentioned she was teaching it to her Victorian Lit class; I was surprised how much I enjoyed it. Language so fresh and a narrative voice so strong. Jane’s sense of self, awareness of injustice, willingness to speak out at such a young age and in such a dependent, seemingly weak position most impressive. Her feminist thinking — but also the way that’s coupled with a firm, deeply rooted morality, especially as she’s exposed to more learning, people (her friend Helen; the teacher who eventually becomes a colleague and friend; the two sisters who shelter her when — but no, no spoilers.)

I kept being struck by the shift in voice when she speaks directly and frankly about her emotions as she realizes she loves Rochester, recognizes her love as futile because she knows he’s courting and planning to marry another — Present tense, very “in the moment,” detailed, psychological, etc. Almost stream-of-consciousness long before Virginia Woolf.

Not sure we all need to forgive her “dear Mr. Rochester,” and I’m thinking I should probably reread Jean Rhys’s The Wide Sargasso Sea to give some kind of voice to “the madwoman in the attic.”

13. Who By Fire: A Dame Polara Mystery. Greg Rhyno. Mystery; Dame Polara series; Female detective; Canadian writer/Canadian detective; Set in Toronto.

First in a new series featuring a Canadian amateur detective — a young woman who grew up accompanying and learning from her father, a retired licensed private investigator now living with Alzheimer’s.

Well-written, as might be expected from a writer with an MFA from U. of Guelph and a debut novel (To Me You Seem Giant) that was nominated for a couple of literary/publishing awards. Credibly (and compellingly) plotted and a female protagonist who is interesting and likeabale — if somewhat prone to rash decisions.

In this first volume, she’s working in Heritage Protection for the City of Toronto and concerned about a trio of suspicious fires in historic buildings that seem connected to a woman she’s been asked to follow. (Her landlord exerted some pressure to get her to investigate his ex-wife for possible infidelity.) Meanwhile, Dame is still grieving the break-up of her marriage and the continued failure of the IVF treatments she can barely afford. And she keeps having disturbing memories of a childhood event involving a burning heritage building. . .

Promising beginning to a series which is already projected to offer Volume 2 this Spring — Who by Water. I’ll admit I was partially attracted to the title when I saw the book in an independent bookstore recently. The reference to the Leonard Cohen lyrics immediately evoked the song as covered by PJ Harvey and Tim Phillips and played as the introduction to each episode of the excellent Apple TV series Bad Sisters. I hope Mr. Rhyno goes on to pen Who by Sunshine, Who in the Merry Merry Month of May, and perhaps Who by Barbituate, and Who in Her Lonely Slip. . .

That’s it for my February reading (and I must say that March is serving me some great reading as well. . . But I can always make room on my TBR list for some of your suggestions, and even if I don’t make it to ALL the books, I look forward to reading what you have to say about them. Comments welcome below — let the bookchat begin!

This weekend I’m packing for more travel, this time with a special companion or two (or three 😉 . . . My missives and postcards will likely be sent from my Substack account. I’ll try to post those links here occasionally and drop in to chat a bit, but I expect to find my Social Media and blogging patterns changing this trip. I very much hope, though, that we can maintain the community I so much enjoy here.

Happy Reading!

xo,

f