For the most part, I wouldn’t say I’m a huge reader, but I’ve had a lot of spare time on my hands lately.
So, I made it a mission to read more books, and I wanted to give you all a round-up of the ones I’ve read in the first quarter of 2025. Note: there will be spoilers!
I also really loved the astrological elements woven throughout, and I’m always a fan of older female protagonists—we don’t see them nearly enough in media. Having a slightly odd, non-conforming older woman lead the narrative felt important and engaging. It ties into a broader conversation about how society devalues women as they age—their social currency, visibility, and the respect they receive all seem to dwindle over time. That’s why stories like this feel not only necessary but like an untapped market.
What didn’t sit right with me, though, was the film adaptation. Despite the novel winning a Nobel Prize, the adaptation is inexplicably bad—unnecessary nudity, random sex scene cutaways, and characters who look nothing like their book counterparts. I couldn’t even make it through the first 10 minutes. My partner, who also read the book, had the same reaction. I haven’t looked up the critical reception or what Tokarczuk herself thought, but I can’t imagine the feedback was glowing. It’s a shame because I was really looking forward to a rich, cinematic take on what is honestly an incredible book.
Interestingly, the beginning of the novel reminded me of Eileen by Ottessa Moshfegh—both books carry a whodunit vibe and centre on older, unconventional female protagonists who are often dismissed as “crazy.”
Overall, I’d give it a solid 3.8 or 4 out of 5. I can absolutely see why it won the Nobel.
The Ocean in our Blood by Tara Pyform
I read The Ocean in Our Blood in preparation for a potential interview with Tara Pyform. I’m hoping to speak with her about her writing journey, how memory weaves into her work, and how she approaches writing about trauma. If the interview does go ahead, I’ll go into more detail—but for now, I’ll just say this book is remarkable.
It honours the strength of both nature and the people who care for it—those who, despite experiencing the tragedies nature can bring, continue to care for and respect it. The book is set to be released in July 2025, so definitely keep an eye out. You can follow updates through AOS Publishing.
The Will to Change: Men, Masculinity, and Love by Bell Hooks
When I picked this up, I didn’t realise it was about encouraging readers to love men—which, in hindsight, I probably should have guessed from the title. But it caught me off guard. In one of the first chapters, bell hooks writes about how feminism shouldn’t veer into misandry. That was confronting for me. As someone who identifies as a feminist, I often feel pushed toward misandry—simply from witnessing the extremes of gender-based violence and how violently women are treated by men.
So, initially, I felt disappointed—like I wasn’t ready to be challenged on my feminism. I had assumed I was already quite radical. And since this book is several years old, I thought the ideas might feel outdated. But as I continued, one chapter really stood out: it discussed how boys often go through a developmental phase where they emotionally withdraw. Families and parents tend to brush it off as “just a phase” or “teenage angst,” when in reality, that’s the exact moment when boys need to be encouraged to express themselves—just as girls are allowed to do with friends or trusted adults.
This is definitely a book I need to revisit. After watching the newly released Netflix series Adolescent, I saw a lot of the same themes mirrored in the show—young men navigating emotional restriction, identity, and connection. It made me reflect on my brother’s upbringing compared to mine and how society shaped our emotional landscapes differently. The book opened up ideas I hadn’t considered, which only proves that my feminism still has room to grow. I need to keep feeding and questioning it—something I didn’t expect when I started the book.
I listened to the audiobook, but I’m planning to pick up a hard copy from Amplify Bookstore. Even as I write this, I feel the urge to revisit it, especially after watching Adolescence and feeling re-energised by the topic.
Love and Virtue by Diana Reid
This was another audiobook I listened to this year, and honestly, it ended up being one of my least favourite reads so far. The concept and themes were interesting—especially the discussions around memory and consent, which I think deserve more space and ongoing dialogue—but the writing just didn’t land for me. I didn’t feel connected to any of the characters, and I found them all a bit annoying.
That said, I understand that’s kind of the point—they’re uni students, young and messy, making choices they’ll probably regret in their late twenties. But I just couldn’t get into it. Maybe I would've liked it a lot more if I was reading it in my early uni days, rather than someone who has been through years of it at this point.
Love and Virtue reminded me of the kinds of stories we’d workshop during my Master’s—decent ideas, but a bit lacklustre. I know this sounds a little harsh and maybe makes me come across like some pretentious critic, but that’s not my intention at all. I think I just felt frustrated reading something I didn't necessarily like but had been so hyped on social media and by my peers. I’ve heard Reid’s other work is stronger, so maybe down the line, I’ll give one of her other books a go and change my mind.
Yellowface by R.F. Kuang
That said, I do think it could’ve been about half the length. A friend who recommended it to me felt the same—there was a lot of repetition, and the ending had a bit of an “...and then she woke up” vibe. Still, I enjoyed the inner monologue of the white protagonist, especially her cognitive dissonance and the way she constantly tries to justify herself.
Maybe it's because I’ve read so much literature about voice appropriation and cultural theft, but parts of this book felt a bit outdated. And I suppose that’s actually a good thing—it shows how much the cultural conversation has moved forward. The idea of a white writer stealing a story from a writer of colour would be instantly scrutinised now, and for good reason. Because of that, some of the book’s points felt a little simplistic or even amateur—but again, maybe that’s just a reflection of how much more critically we engage with this stuff now.
All in all, I still really enjoyed Yellowface. It could’ve been trimmed by a couple hundred pages, but it was a decent read. Plus, when I looked up the author and saw how young and accomplished she is...? Genuinely inspiring. Go off, queen!
Intermezzo by Sally Rooney
There’s no way I could’ve read this one in physical form—no quotation marks, dense prose, and my dyslexia? Nope. The only reason I made it through was thanks to the audiobook. That said, I love Rooney’s writing. Her prose is beautiful, her world-building is rich, and she clearly knows her characters inside out.
But… did I find both protagonists annoying and kind of detestable? Yes. Did they feel unrealistic? Also yes. And I really didn’t love how the women were portrayed. Still, it was a good read. What stood out to me was the way Rooney explored feeling drawn to more than one person at once, the guilt that can come with that, and how disability intersects with intimacy and love. Those moments felt honest and underrepresented.
I think more stories should explore complicated relationship dynamics. Our society has such a rigid, heteronormative view of love, and polyamory is still seen as a punchline in memes and TikToks. But having feelings that don’t align with societal expectations is such a normal human thing, and I appreciated how this book opened space for that.
That said, I wasn’t convinced by the ending. Two brothers who’ve held a years-long grudge suddenly reconciling? Didn’t buy it. Naomi also didn’t feel realistic to me—though I get that we’re seeing her through Peter’s perspective, and to him, she’s this manic pixie dream girl chaos agent. Still, I don’t know if someone like her could exist in today’s world.
Also had a convo with friends about how this book has been everywhere, and not always for the writing itself. We joked about how many men we’ve seen carrying it, and it made me wonder: would just as many men read this book if the cover was pink instead of blue? Maybe that’s an unfair thought, and it says more about my own internal biases than anything else—but it was an interesting reflection.
Emotional Female by Yumiko Kadota
It’s not written in a super literary or poetic way, but it’s incredibly detailed and thorough. Yumiko takes the reader through her exhausting, intense journey of trying to become a plastic surgeon. At times, it was hard to read—I had to take breaks because the things she went through were genuinely shocking. But her strength in recounting those experiences is remarkable.
I also loved that she mentioned keeping a daily journal during her time as a trainee—that really stuck with me and made me want to start journaling again. To be able to recall such a taxing time in that much detail is a testament to her resilience and clarity.
I'm always trying to mix in a few non-fiction books throughout the year, and I’m glad I finally got to this one. Bonus points for the audiobook being narrated by the author herself—it added such a personal, grounded touch.
- - -
I plan to be back in late June with the second installment of books I've read this year. In the meantime, I hope you enjoyed my thoughts on some books, found a couple recommendations, and had a great Jan, Feb and March <3
