Sometime back I wrote a post about the books I read in 2025…As much as I like to believe I’m an eclectic reader, 2025 made my patterns impossible to ignore. I kept circling back to the same genres — not out of habit, but out of need. Each one fed a different part of me.
Women authors, always.
If there was one constant across my reading list, it was women’s voices. Stories written by women — especially those that explored interior lives, relationships, grief, rage, resilience, and quiet rebellion — resonated deeply. There’s an honesty in how women write about longing and survival that feels intimate, almost conspiratorial. These books didn’t explain emotions to me; they understood them.
Psychology & the need to understand people (and myself).
I found myself repeatedly reaching for psychology and behaviour-focused books. Not the self-help, fix-yourself kind — but books that helped me observe patterns, motivations, trauma responses, and the why behind human behaviour. In a year of emotional processing, these reads felt like holding up a mirror. Sometimes uncomfortable. Often clarifying. Always useful.
General fiction — for the messiness of being human.
General fiction remained my anchor. Stories about ordinary lives, complicated families, small decisions with big consequences. These books reminded me that nothing dramatic has to happen for a story to matter. Often, the quietest narratives stayed with me the longest.
Mystery, murder & thrillers — when my mind needed distraction.
On days when I didn’t want to feel too deeply, I reached for mysteries and murder thrillers. Plot-driven, fast-paced, page-turners that kept my mind occupied and gave my emotions a temporary rest. They were palate cleansers, escape hatches, and sometimes guilty pleasures — and I make no apologies for that.
Food & cooking — comfort reading in its purest form.
Food writing has always felt like a warm blanket. Cookbooks, food memoirs, essays about kitchens, culture, memory, and meals — these reads nourished me in quieter ways. They reminded me that food is never just food; it’s identity, care, history, and home.
Travel — living other lives, briefly.
Travel writing helped me leave without leaving. Through other people’s journeys, cities, trains, and meals, I experienced movement during moments when I felt stuck. These books expanded my sense of possibility and reminded me that there are many ways to live a life — and none of them have to look the same.
Looking back, my genre choices tell a story of their own.
They map my curiosities, my comforts, my questions, and my coping mechanisms.
In 2025, I didn’t just read books.
I read what I needed.
