Reading and writing in 2022

I blew my personal reading record out of the water last year, topping out at 212 books in 2022 – far exceeding the 147 I read in 2021 (mostly thanks to 3+ months of COVID recovery and a lot of sleepless nights).

Fave reads and recommendations

Continuing the non-fiction theme that has led my reading recs for the past several years, my favourite book of 2022 was Living on Stolen Land by Ambelin Kwaymullina, an extraordinary poetic manifesto and practical guidebook to living on unceded First Nations land, which I think should be compulsory reading for every non-Indigenous Australian.

My other fave was This is Not a Book About Benedict Cumberbatch by Tabitha Carvan – a funny, thoughtful and nurturing non-memoiry memoir about the importance (particularly for women) of resisting the loss of and/or re-finding the joy in the things we love.

Aus Women Writers

My reading list included 52 books by Australian women writers (25% of my reading total), with corresponding micro-reviews on Instagram and TikTok for the #AWW2022 challenge.

My top 2022 recs are almost all poetry, starting with In Bed with Animals by my pal Bronwyn Lovell: a transcendently powerful collection that is a gift of generosity, activism and insight. Beautifully wrought feminist poems about the everyday horrors of gender discrimination and patriarchy’s bludgeoning of women, animals, the planet, and beyond into space. (I loved it so much, I made a book promo to celebrate.)

I dog-eared nearly every page of How Decent People Behave by Maxine Beneba Clarke (an powerful and political collection of right-now poetry) and the Stella Prize winning Dropbear by Evelyn Araluen (a fierce, tender, playful and stark debut that uses Australiana as a tool to cut through colonial fantasy).

I also adored Kindred by Kirli Saunders (an intimate and accessible collection about connection, culture and country) and Do You Have Anything Less Domestic by Emilie Collyer (thoughtful, feminist poetry about navigating step-parenting, gendered violence, cancer treatment and everyday life).

We Need Diverse Books

Joining BookTok inspired me to double-down on the #WeNeedDiverseBooks / #DiversifyYourBookshelves challenge, with 105 books that made up 50% of my reading total.

This includes book in which: “people of colour can be first-page HEROES rather than second-class citizens. Books in which LGBTQIA characters can represent social CHANGE rather than social problems. And books where disabled people can be just… people.”

Highlights not already listed above include: The Boy from the Mish by Gary Lonesborough (the first coming of age / young MM romance between two Aboriginal boys I’ve ever come across) and Legendborn by Tracy Deon (a reimagining of the King Arthur legend as a secret (and magical, and very, very white) college campus society, as told by a strong, smart, politically aware Black teen on her journey through grief, strangeness, first romance and a mysterious family legacy).

In similar magical-YA-with-kickarse-POC-protagonists, I loved Liselle Sambury’s Blood like Magic and Blood like Fate duology (about Canada’s Black witch community), and Cemetery Boys by Aidan Thomas (wonderful queer Latinx YA about navigating gendered roles, family expectations and paranormal powers, and a uniquely complicated first love).

Mackenzi Lee’s Montague Siblings series delivered a substantial amount of much-needed joy during another difficult year. The three rollicking 18th Century queer YA adventures (plus bonus novella) are based around delightful MM, FF and MF young romances that take readers on a grand tour of mishaps, hijinks and awkwardly (un?)requited love – tackling sexuality, race and gender stereotypes with sensitivity and hilarity on their way.

Finally, I was particularly grateful to be able to read Maya Kobabe’s stunning graphic memoir, Gender Queer, which (ridiculously, unbelievably) became one of the most banned books in the US in its first year of release. Check out Book Riot’s anti-censorship tool kit for tips on helping to fight book bans and challenges, or PEN’s list of 10 most banned books for 2021-22 to add a few more to your TBRs.

Love Oz YA

I LoveOzYA and read 11 books for young adults by Australian writers last year (5% of my reading total).

My stand-out fave was Stars in their Eyes by Jessica Walton and Aska – a sweet graphic novel about access and representation, pop culture, owning your identity and finding your tribe.

Their book also sat at the centre of my reading Venn diagram, along with four others that satisfied all three of the above reading challenges: Jen Wilde’s Going Off Script, Alice Pung’s One Hundred Days, Road Tripping with Pearl Nash by Poppy Nwosu, and The Coconut Children by Vivian Pham.

I also enjoyed Anything But Fine by Tobias Madden (a young MM romance about ambition, loss and rediscovery, moving through grief, internalised ableism and external prejudice, real vs fake friends, and dance).

More reads and re-reads

With 212 to choose from, there are so many other wonderful books I feel terrible for not mentioning. So here are a handful more for good measure…

From my pals… I loved MindWalker by Kate Dylan: fast paced, dark and snark-filled YA sci-fi set in a post-annihilation, cyberpunk dystopia about loyalty and betrayal, conspiracies and anarchy, friendships, first love and losing (control of) your mind. And I think Nigel Featherstone’s My Heart is a Little Wild Thing was the prettiest book of the year, as well as a beautifully lonely MM love story about connection, distance, obligation and letting go.

I fell just as much in love with Heartstopper as the rest of the planet, and inhaled Radio Silence and a bunch of other Alice Oseman novels. And I was glad to be pointed in the direction of Swordheart and T Kingfisher’s other magical middle-aged romances.

I also read some fantastic stand-alones, such as My Sister The Serial Killer by Oyinkan Braithwaite, Klara and the Sun by Kazuo Ishiguro, Bila Yarrudhanggalangdhuray by Anita Heiss AND SO MANY MORE.

Spice-wise, I inhaled J Bree’s Bonds that Tie series, took my first tentative steps into the Omegaverse, and enjoyed Emily Rath’s reimagining of the Regency Romance genre in her Second Sons queer poly romance series.

Normally, I’m a huge fan of re-reading, but it was my Libby app and Kindle Unlimited subscription that got me through last year’s sleepless nights. In fact, Kylie Scott’s Dirty (the first book in her Dive Bar series) and Takedown Twenty by Janet Evanovich were the only two books I re-read in 2022.

2022 in writing

My writing year began low and slow thanks to the remnants of my pandemic-brain, which I began to dig myself out of from January (with the aid of Beyond Blue’s fantastic NewAccess coaching program for small business owners – which includes writers and freelancers).

Unfortunately, by March, existential COVID-preoccupation was replaced with very real COVID symptoms: 10 days in bed and 11 weeks of brain fog, fatigue and non-negotiable nap schedule that were even less conducive to creativity. Thankfully, the month was redeemed by the wonderfully unexpected news that Fremantle Press will publish my debut collection of poetry, Public.Open.Space., in July 2023.

And so began the months of rewrites, new writing, anxious editing, awkward author promo, preparation, consideration, and nervous anticipation of beta and sensitivity reader feedback that go into (I have discovered) the slow process of making a book – an exhilarating journey I traversed while gripping the steady hand of my stalwart editor and leaning ever-so-gratefully on my writerly, readerly and cheerleadery pals. I still don’t quite believe this particular dream is coming true.

In May, I spent two weeks as artist in residence at Bundanon in regional NSW. Originally disappointed my longish COVID meant I couldn’t be as productive as hoped, my amazing pal Jen reminded me at just the right moment that residencies are gifts to artists, not to our work. If sleep and healing was what I needed, then my residency tasks were to sleep and to heal.

I also worked on the findings of my national survey into arts and non-profit governance, which informed a series of articles and events on that topic (with more to come this year).

After a second bout of COVID (PUT YOUR MASKS BACK ON, PLEASE), I launched my one-woman #LessIsNecessary campaign about our ‘post’-pandemic and post-burnout workforces and what we can do to support them (spoiler: it’s LESS). In hopes of a New Year creative reset, Clare Travis and I will return to this theme in our February webinar on coaching yourself and your teams through post-pandemic exhaustion.

I also wrote or spoke about cultural policy, managing a precarious freelance career, and The Relationship is the Project (which we also made available as a free online ebook). And I made my first awkward steps towards working less and writing more this year, with the launch of my first Patreon (where you can support my #RethinkingArtsGovernance research and other works in progress from just $2.50/month).

Finally, my 2022 writing year went out on the highest of notes, with Public.Open.Space. going to print (six months ahead of its July 2023 launch date), followed by its inclusion on The Age / Sydney Morning Herald’s list of standout titles you’re going to read in 2023.

Others to watch out for are Omar Sakr’s Non-essential Work (UQP, April); and Kate Larsen’s Public.Open.Space (Fremantle, July), her debut after a decade working as an insta poet.

Jane Sullivan, The Age/SMH, 20 December 2022

What more is there to say but: squeeeeeeeeee!

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