Skip to main content

A Decade of Angieville


I woke up this morning a bit flummoxed to realize that today marks my blog's ten year anniversary. How . . . how did that happen? The lovely thing is that the bemusement was almost immediately followed by a palpable thrill of wonder at the fact that I've been doing this thing—this thing that I have come to love, that has become an integral, limb-like part of me—for a decade. There are only a few other things I've been doing that long. I've been married to my husband for just a few years longer than that. I've been a mother for almost exactly two years more. In fact, ten years ago on this night I put my little boy (only had one then) down to bed after a satisfactory night of trick-or-treating, climbed into bed with my notebook, and Aaron sat down and started telling me about how he thought I should start a blog, how it would be a good place to . . . oh, you guys. Talking about this brings the emotions precariously close to the surface.

He told me he thought it would be a good place to talk about books. 


Is it odd that I'm crying as I'm typing this right now? It doesn't feel odd. It feels like these tears are because it turned out to be exactly that. And more. That what started out as simply listing the books I'd read and reread that month became an extension of home, when I needed that so much as I was adapting to being a mother and trying to balance so many new and old aspects of my life. It became a forum and an outlet and a marvelous stepping off point into the virtual world of . . . you. All of you. You magnificent community of people who are so varied and so colorful and so vital to me now. You read and you write and you think so much, and you laugh and cry and rage about what you read and write and think about. And you share it with me. And you tell me what books you couldn't imagine living without, and I read them and they become mine, too.

It was a revelation when it all began, and it continues to be one of the brightest elements of my life. To know that when I, as Yeats wrote, "bring you with reverent hands the books of my numberless dreams," that they will be safe. With you.

Comments

You Might Also Like

Angie's Best Books of 2022

  Somehow the end of the year is here. And we're all here. And I still feel like placing this post in this space. So I shall. With gratitude and a certain wistful hope. For us all. But especially for these books, the people that walk them, their words, and their creators. (listed in the order in which I read them) Hook, Line, and Sinker by Tessa Bailey The Perfect Crimes of Marian Hayes by Cat Sebastian You Were Made to Be Mine by Julie Anne Long Impossible by Sarah Lotz Book Lovers by Emily Henry Nettle & Bone by T. Kingfisher The Bodyguard by Katherine Center The Worst Guy by Kate Canterbary Fire Season by K.D. Casey Husband Material by Alexis Hall Love in the Time of Serial Killers by Alicia Thompson Heartbreaker by Sarah MacLean Love on the Brain by Ali Hazelwood Lore Olympus, Vol. 3 by Rachel Smythe Greywaren by Maggie Stiefvater The Unselected Journals of Emma M. Lion, Vol. 6 by Beth Brower Daniel Cabot Puts Down Roots by Cat Sebastian Scattered Showers

Angie's 2023 Must Be Mine

  Begin as you mean to go on, they say. And so here are my most anticipated titles of 2023: And no covers on these yet, but I'm looking forward to them every bit as much: The Unselected Journals of Emma M. Lion, Vol. 7 by Beth Brower Knockout by Sarah MacLean Ten Things That Never Happened by Alexis Hall Thornhedge by T. Kingfisher We Could Be So Good by Cat Sebastian Diamond Ring by K.D. Casey The Gentleman's Gambit by Evie Dunmore What titles are on your list?

Bibliocrack Review | The Love Hypothesis by Ali Hazelwood

 Hi. Hey. Hello there. It's been a . . . well, you know what it's been. We're all still living this together. So I will simply skip to the fact that I couldn't not review this book here. Because reading it was something special. I knew nothing about Ali Hazelwood 's debut novel except that it involved women in STEM and that the cover made me smile. I decided to set it aside for myself as a reward. Work has been . . . punishing . . . for the last year, and I have been so exhausted every hour of every day. And so I determined to buy The Love Hypothesis  on release day knowing nothing about it. But when I went to the bookstore to get my copy, none were available. In fact, none were available anywhere for love nor money, in store or online. At first I was moderately disappointed. Then I told myself maybe it's not that great after all and I didn't necessarily need to feel this preemptive sense of loss. But it kept gnawing at me. The loss. And so I paused work an