3.5 stars

Sankovitch commits to reading one book a day for a year in an effort to finally, fully, grieve the death of her sister three years before.

I enjoyed hearing the synopses of so many books, and there were many good quotes scattered throughout.

The author is clearly a fast reader and there's nothing wrong with her goal, but she treats books and reading as her god and guide in life. Sankovitch and I hold very different moral/spiritual beliefs, and so I just couldn't agree with many of her conclusions. She doesn't have true hope in an afterlife, and her musings on death and grief reflected this lack of hope. She states, "The only balm to sorrow is memory."

Sankovitch also believes that humans are inherently good, yet doesn't bother attempting to explain why, if we're so good, we act so selfish and even wickedly at times. She just says we should go read some other book to try and figure it out. (My personal recommendation would be the Bible!)

Though I enjoyed the book-talk, this is technically a memoir, and this side of the book felt disjointed, as if Sankovitch wanted to cram her whole life into this one book but wasn't sure how to do that.

There are some brief mentions of sex that I found in poor taste.

It was okay, overall, but I wouldn't recommend it.
( )

I would’ve liked either a book about Sankovitch’s sister or a book about her year long reading challenge. It didn’t work as both, for me. ( )

When I reached the second half of the book, I became fairly tired serving as the author's therapist. The premise of the book made perfect sense, but she started repeating herself and the whining seemed to worsen throughout the book. ( )

A great book for readers: everyone will find Sankovitch's thoughts on how books relate to one's life ring close to home. What was especially interesting here was her juxtaposition of her reading life with her mental life, as reading allowed her time to quiet down and process the death of her sister.

All readers who love literature will relate to Sankovitch's love for books; everyone will also come away from this wanting to read many books Sankovitch details and which may have passed one's radar or been long-forgotten in a pile somewhere. The one thing that permeated the entire book, and which I found especially classist (as if this book were directed only toward those privileged enough to be in circumstances like Sankovitch's), was that this is not a book for all people who love to read.

This is solely the story of one woman who can afford to live on her husband's income for an entire year to read a book each day, and to also relinquish her two children to her husband's care to not "disturb" her book-a-day project. For that alone—and this is an attitude and sentiment that runs throughout the book, this sense of privilege and socioeconomic stability—the book may feel alien and too much like an unlivable fantasy to many avid readers who are not as lucky and financially secure as Sankovitch. ( )

The Book-A-Day concept, while initially odd, was tempting reading the firs time through many years ago;
now, it is just too sad with so many intervening deaths. ( )