Over the last few days, I’ve been making my way, slowly and intermittently, through Rick Rubin’s incredible book “The Creative Act”. A gorgeous, well-crafted, and thoughtful object in and of itself and a collection of short essays, even sometimes just a few paragraphs in length, all exploring the nature of creativity, the life of the creative person, and the act of creation itself. It’s been a deep pleasure to drop in on the book at different times and in different places and meander through these delicate, reflective passages. 

This year, much of my reading has been led by a desire for comfort, reassurance, and escape as, I suspect, is the case for many avid readers. I have been revisiting favourite authors such as Ursula Le Guin, John Scalzi, and Stanislaw Lem, as well as particular books like The Lord of the Rings, The Tao Te Ching, and The Odyssey. Much of this is well-trodden territory for me and the familiarity offers consolation as well as the usual pleasures of reading. Alongside these favourites, there have been many books new to me, or newly released from authors I already know well, that have particularly struck a chord over the last 12 months.