Books I will not finish in 2025 (or 2026, for that matter)

 

.

I think about doing this every December, but I’m a-gonna hold myself to it in 2026 and not check out any books from the library. I’m going to stick with the books I own—which includes literal thousands of volumes I’ve never read. I’m overdue in my own house and that needs to change.

Because of that, I’m returning all the library books I currently have, finished or not. But this declaration of bankruptcy requires some itemization. So lets get to it.

Tomato Cain and Other Stories by Nigel Kneale

I was turned on to this author by a Bulwark essay and while I don’t usually make it through short-story collections I really wanted to this time. The ones I did read were varied and intriguing. I didn’t get to all the stories I had been warned were most sticky but the opening story, the title story, one he said was an outlier, is seeming like one I will never forget. It’s about a religious man in a small town were tomatoes have never been seen before and how his conviction re his own righteousness leads to his being brought low. It may not be anything akin to traditional horror but it’s playing by the same rules in a completely different field. Like playing hockey on a tennis court.

Cat Ninja: Cat’s Claw by Matthew Cody et al.

This is a kids book in the worst way. It has dumb charm, sure, but . . . I don’t need to finish it. One-point-two of the stories and a skim of the rest was plenty sufficient.

Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass by Frederick Douglass

I had been reading this at school. I had a bookmark in one volume of a class set that had been sitting unused in a copyroom for most of a decade. But then someone decided to teach it, I guess, and removed all the copies?!?! But what about my clear plastic bookmark!?! Anyway, I checked out a new copy but I just don’t like it. I want my old copy back. So I guess I’m willing to wait.

Brother Brontë by Fernando A. Flores

I’ve checked this out twice. I’m fascinated by this dystopian Texas border town. I’ve read the first couple pages and know I want to finish it, but it keeps getting pushed aside. Let’s see if I’m still interested in 2027.

Why Fascists Fear Teachers: Public Education and the Future of Democracy by Randi Weingarten

This is a great little book for those who’ve never thought about what teachers actually do, but I have to say it feels a little redundant to me who lives it every day. The book covers four main things teachers do that fascists hate and they string together some quotations and old speeches (or so it feels). But it’s a quick and easy read and if you don’t recognize the disguised attacks on American public education, it’s an excellent introduction to our now. Here are the four things we teachers are up to in the bright lights of the classroom:

• TEACHERS TEACH CRITICAL THINKING

This is the thing that surprises me most about right-wing anti-teacher commentary, this idea that teachers are out to indoctrinate people. I suppose there’s some of that but really what most people who stick with the profession care about is kids thinking for themselves. And that itself is a concept many find dangerous. But if you’re ideas are so fragile and/or wrong that careful examination will destroy them, perhaps they deserve to be destroyed.

But then, I am a teacher.

•TEACHERS FOSTER SAFE AND WELCOMING COMMUNITIES

Not all teachers succeed at this but rare is the teacher for whom this is not a primary goal. No one can survive in this profession without caring about humans. And once you start caring about humans, it’s hard not to want to make things better for them. That starts with individuals in your classroom but as your eyes open it spreads to each student’s family and communities as well.

• TEACHERS CREATE OPPORTUNITIES

This is one of the hardest things about being a teacher because she’s right—we want to give our students opportunities. But this is one of the easiest things to take away. Visiting museums and historical sites and cultural events and competitive academics—these things take money! And money is the easiest thing for antiliberal culture warriors to take away. Even in California essentially limitless money, redirecting it from private pockets to a better future is a hard sell. But we do what we can. Most of my field trips have been walks to the cemetery....

• TEACHERS BUILD STRONG UNIONS

This one I think is perhaps the most understood and least appreciated. I grew up in red towns and know perfectly well that unions are the enemy of good people everywhere. This feeling is the result of concerted effort by powerful people with lots of money over decades and decades (and, to be fair, some bad behavior by some unions in years past). But when you listen to people’s complaints about unions, it’s generally a real crabs-in-the-bucket–type situation. Why should teachers have a thing I don’t have? is a fair question, but the answer isn’t take it away from teachers; the answer is you deserve that thing too. But it’s in capital’s best interest to push AI on you rather than give you fully covered health care. That’s why unions in the public space have to push the conversation forward. And you—whoever you are, whatever you do for a living—start imagining a world where you too have access to collective bargaining. We are the ants.

Uncle Silas by Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu

I’m so intrigued by this spooky Victorian mystery. But it’s long and a library book. So....

Art of Lying Down: A Guide to Horizontal Living by Bernd Brunner

Here’s a way to make a living! A bunch of short essays that have a fact or three so they count as educational but are so simple as to be difficult to neither write nor read.

I really like the book cover and if I owned the book I would finish it—nice short essays before bed (and on topic, to boot!). But with a due date, it’s just not worth it.

Cry When the Baby Cries by Becky Barnicoat

This little comic about motherhood is one of many from this best-comics-of-2025 list I tried to track down. Lady Steed’s currently reading it and if she recommends it to me, I probably will as well. But short her ringing endorsement, I’m afraid it will be a casualty of my good intentions.

And then? And then? What else? by Daniel Handler

I checked this writing memoir out the same day as one of my favorite books read of 2025 and I experienced a bit of whiplash simply because they are so entirely different.

I love David Handler and I like this book a lot. I actually have emailed me which essay I left off on so I can return to it some day.

But it’s not a book I need right now and so we’ll let it go.

Poems by Charles Baudelaire

I checked this out because Handler loves Baudelaire. I get why he does but this set wasn’t pulling me in. Let’s blame it on the translation.

So will I stick with this goal of mine?

Back in 2007, I decided to only read books I’d already started. That felt great, honestly, but I didn’t attempt to stick with it for an entire year. In 2016 I attempted only started books (with a couple planned exceptions) for the full year. I finished the year with only 66 books (the 66th a clear violation of the rules) and no mention of this plan.

BUT THIS IS DIFFERENT.

Sure, I’m four years into The Stand (enjoying it but it’s LONG book) and I still haven’t finished Don Quixote (lost my copy)—not to mention the dozens (probably) of other books that I’ve started but haven’t finished—and so could make that my goal again. But what I really want to do is start books I own. There is no limit to genre or time period sticking with my own books, but I do think the publication dates will skew longerago when I stay home.

But I don’t know! It’s an experiment!

I have already delayed all the arrival dates of books I have on hold at the library except this one (coming November) and comics from that list I mentioned that the library hasn’t purchased yet. I may give myself permission to continue reading Giant Days if my time in the high-school library encourages it (and if book three [in process] doesn’t annoy me as much as book two [review coming next week] did). The main thing is no big new commitments. Something that can be read in a couple hours, okay, maybe, but no Brother Brontë with it’s 352 pages.

I’m curious how disciplined you all are with your for-fun reading. Do you chase the newest butterflies? Are you religiously checking off a list you made your freshman year of college? Do tell!