Science Fiction-Free September 2023 wrap-up

This past September was my 20th Science Fiction-Free September, in which I declare a month-long moratorium on reading science-fiction books (whether I need to or not).

Before the month began, I decided on six novels that I wanted to read. Three of them had been on my to-read list for a very long time, and it was high time I actually read them. Two were consistent with my current reading projects. And one was a book that I had on reserve at the library, which I expected to become available early in the month.

I planned for six novels, and I completed all six. This was a first. Apparently the winning strategy is to choose shorter novels than I'm accustomed to. (But not too short.)

About two-thirds of the way through September, and near the start of the fifth (and longest) book, I caught a cold. Thanks to the COVID pandemic, it's been at least two years since I've been sick at all. Not only had I practically forgotten what it felt like, but it also completely drained my energy for three days—to the point that I didn't feel even like reading. I got my mojo back, though, and got the last book in just under the wire on Saturday afternoon.

My favourite novel of the six was the first: To Kill a Mockingbird, by Harper Lee. I'd never read it before (nor had I read any of them), and I'm glad I did. I can see why it frequently tops lists of the greatest novels of all time. Runner-up: Joyland, by Stephen King. I've already reviewed it, but to sum up, it's an enjoyable and light piece of crime fiction.

My least favourite was Revolutionary Road, by Richard Yates. It might be the most pessimistic novel I've ever read (though it may have some competition in John O'Hara's Appointment in Samarra). Runner-up: The House of Mirth by Edith Wharton. Neither is a bad novel by any stretch, and I might have thought more highly of each of them individually. I guess I'm not cut out for two highly tragic novels practically back to back.

Coming in in the middle were An Artist of the Floating World, by Kazuo Ishiguro, and Riders of the Purple Sage, by Zane Grey. Both of them are good novels, and An Artist of the Floating World in particular is beautifully written.

I said at the beginning of September that I would write at least 250 words on each of these books. So yes, I still owe a post on each of TKAM, The House of Mirth, and An Artist of the Floating World.

My annual goal is to read 50 books of any genre. An Artist of the Floating World was number 47. Between the end of September and writing this, I've also completed one more novel (Emily of New Moon, by L. M. Montgomery) and I'm halfway through number 49: Nemesis Games, the fifth book in the Expanse series by James S. A. Corey.

In the not-entirely-unlikely event that I ran out of books before running out of September, I had three additonal books lined up:

• The Cellist of Sarajevo, Steven Galloway
• A Confederacy of Dunces, John Kennedy Toole
• Rabbit, Run, John Updike

They also all have a long history on The List, so I'm eager to clear them off. Not too soon, though; I'm going to spend a little while reading some more blatantly commercial stuff.