Welcome to the Book Side

I’ve always loved reading. One of my mom’s favorite things to do when my sister and I were kids was drop us off at the library and head to the grocery store in peace. We’d spend anywhere from forty-five minutes to two hours there—sometimes playing on the computers, but mostly reading. I started with the classic childhood books, but what truly pulled me in were the Nancy Drew books. That was it for me. I loved mysteries. I loved the idea of characters piecing things together, following clues, and solving crimes. That “inner sleuth” became the foundation of how I read.

Over time, I realized what I didn’t enjoy just as much. Romance and most contemporary books never really held my attention. I liked mystery—but not full-on thrillers. Detective stories were my sweet spot: people trying to solve something, not just reacting to chaos. For a long time, I also had a bit of a distaste for romance. Looking back, I think it came from immaturity and frustration with how often women were written as falling apart over a man. I didn’t give the genre enough credit, and it took years before I became more open to it. I also noticed that the people I talked to about books rarely shared my taste, which quietly made reading feel more isolating than I expected.

Like a lot of people, my reading life wasn’t consistent. I’d drift in and out. In 2017, when I moved to South Florida for school, my cousin—an avid reader—helped pull me back in. One of our favorite ways to unwind was wandering through Barnes & Noble and picking up books. I know I read more during that time, but I don’t remember all the titles, and I only logged a few on Goodreads. Still, it marked the beginning of returning to books in a real way. Even after that, though, I usually read fewer than ten books a year.

Eventually, I set a small goal: twelve books a year. Some years I hit it. Some years I barely read four. But no matter what, I knew I wanted reading to be part of my life again.

In 2023, I started reading more consistently. In 2024, I challenged myself to read at least two books per month. Once I passed that goal, I raised it—first to 28 books, then 30, then 32. I reached it, and it was genuinely exciting to watch it happen. I made an effort not to stick only to mysteries, even though by the end of the year, that’s what I found myself craving again.

In 2025, I set a goal of 52 books—and ended up reading 60. It felt less like chasing a number and more like finally finding a rhythm that worked for me. I leaned into my love of mysteries while still intentionally exploring other genres. My reading is still mostly mysteries, but I’ve been pushing myself to read more contemporary fiction, memoirs, and romance. It isn’t easy, but those brief detours are usually enough before I happily return to a mystery.

Now in 2026, I’m keeping that same goal of 52 books. Not because I doubt I can read more—but because I want reading to stay joyful, flexible, and pressure-free.

I don’t always write reviews. Sometimes I let myself skip them. But I’m trying to be more intentional—not just about how much I read, but about what I read. And that’s what this space is for.