The Networking Question That Caught Me Off Guard

“If you could meet one person from the past, who would it be?”

It’s one of those light questions meant to pass the time at a networking event, just small talk to keep the energy moving.

But when someone tossed it out casually across the table, I found myself… stumped.

Some people had ready answers:
— A beloved grandparent.
— A revolutionary leader.
— A favorite author who left us too soon.

Me? I blanked.
Not because I didn’t have anyone in mind, but because I’d never really sat with the question before.

Later that evening, though, it lingered. And the longer I thought about it, the clearer my answer became.

David Bowie.

Of course.

Not just because of the music—though Let’s Dance and Under Pressure will forever live on my playlist.

But because of who he was beyond the music.

There was always something about Bowie that felt a little otherworldly—but also incredibly grounded.
He came across as a quiet genius.

🎧 In interviews, he was never loud. He didn’t need to be. There was a stillness to him—a self-assured curiosity that made him the most interesting person in the room without ever raising his voice.

📚 He was a voracious reader. Did you know he once shared his top 100 books? It’s still one of my favorite corners of the internet. He reportedly carried books with him everywhere—on tour, in transit, in those quiet in-between spaces.

🎭 And then there was the reinvention.
Ziggy Stardust.
The Thin White Duke.
The elder statesman of cool.

Bowie shape-shifted through decades of culture without ever chasing relevance.
In a world obsessed with being louder and doing more, he showed us what quiet evolution looks like.

I’ve always admired that kind of transformation—the kind that doesn’t announce itself but leaves a mark anyway.

And then there’s his relationship with Iman.
Graceful. Grounded. Built on mutual admiration.
I’ve admired Iman for years—so much so that I named my daughter after her.

So what would I ask Bowie if I had the chance to meet him?

Not about fame.
Not even about music.

I’d ask:
“Can I spend a day in your personal library and just talk books with you?”

Because I truly believe that what we read reveals more than what we say.

And behind all the personas and glitter and genius, I suspect I’d find David Jones—the deeply curious mind behind it all.

The Magic Of Physical Books vs An E-Reader

Why sometimes the old way is still the best way.

Credit: Unsplash

I own four e-readers.

A Kindle, two Kobos, and a Boox Palma—each with its own perks. Yes, I know. I'm flexing a little. 😅

But here’s the truth: as efficient as e-readers are, sometimes nothing compares to the quiet, unexpected magic of reading a real, physical book.

And a few weeks ago, I was reminded just how true that is.

I was at the hospital for a routine follow-up, already bracing for a long wait.

Normally, I’d bring my Kindle. But that day, I grabbed the book I was reading at the time, Throne of Glass by Sarah J. Maas—a chunky fantasy novel in paperback that had been sitting on my shelf for years.

(𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳, 𝘐’𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘵 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘢𝘭 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘶𝘯𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘱𝘩𝘺𝘴𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭 𝘣𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘴, 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘶𝘴𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘸𝘦’𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘐’𝘮 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘺 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘪𝘨𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘭.)

While flipping through the pages, I noticed one of the staff members stealing glances at the cover. She looked intrigued, but didn’t say anything until later, by pure coincidence, when she ended up processing my payment.

As she keyed in my bill, she asked quietly, “Are you enjoying Throne of Glass?”

She was a fellow fantasy fan. Had seen Sarah J. Maas’s books around but hadn’t picked one up yet. That one question turned into a five-minute chat about favorite series, strong female leads, and book recs. 

(Naturally, I told her to start with A Court of Thorns and Roses. I mean c'mon, you gotta read this series if you haven't people.)

Two strangers, connected through the story in my hands.

This isn’t a rare event. It’s happened so many times, in the most ordinary places:
💅 Nail salons
🛫 Airport lounges
🏥 Waiting rooms

Every time, someone sees the cover of a book I’m reading and says:
“Oh, I’ve read that!” or “I’ve been meaning to start this. Is it any good?”

And I tend to do the same when I see a fellow book reader with an interesting book. 

These small, spontaneous connections? They don’t happen with e-readers.

With a Kindle or Kobo, no one knows what you’re reading. It could be a Pulitzer Prize winner or a spicy dark romance, you’re basically holding a black mirror of mystery.

(Although... I do read my spicy dark romances on my e-reader specifically so I don't get judged in public. 😂 We all have our tricks.)

But here the deal:
✨ E-readers are convenient and great for privacy.
📚 Physical books are great for connection.

Reading a physical book in public is like quietly wearing your heart—or your reading taste—on your sleeve.

You’re giving the world a glimpse into your inner world. And sometimes, that glimpse is enough to spark a conversation, an exchange, even a brief sense of community with someone you’ve never met.

Sure, there’s a little vulnerability there. 

You might get judged for your book choice. But more often than not, you’ll find someone who lights up and says, “I love that book,” or “I’ve been meaning to read that too.”

And suddenly, the book becomes more than a story. It becomes a bridge.

Look, I’m not giving up on e-readers. They’re brilliant for travel, midnight reading, and saving space (and money) in the long run. I love mine. All four of them.

But that small hospital moment reminded me why physical books still matter.

Because sometimes, the best stories don’t just live on the page.

They begin when someone notices the story you're holding in your hands.

TikTok Made Me Do It: My TSITP Obsession.

How a mindless scroll led to a weekend binge (And why I'm not sorry.)

TikTok is dangerous, and I have the evidence to prove it. 

First, it convinced me to buy a stack of books that now serve as expensive bookends on my nightstand. Then, just when I thought I was safe, it did something far worse. 

It introduced me to The Summer I Turned Pretty. 

You know how it starts.

Those perfectly edited reels keep appearing on your FYP. Then suddenly you're thinking, "Let's just watch one episode. See what all the fuss is about." The algorithm knows exactly what it's doing, serving up those sun-drenched clips of beach houses and beautiful teenagers until your curiosity finally wins.

And win it did.

What began as innocent curiosity turned into a full-blown obsession.

Before I knew what hit me, I had devoured all three seasons, well, up to Season 3, Episode 3, because apparently, even Amazon Prime wants to torture us with weekly releases.

Here I am, a 50-year-old adult, suddenly transformed into a teenager again, passionately defending Team Conrad to absolutely no one while my chores were neglected and takeout containers accumulated on my dining table.

My kids got fed (thank goodness for delivery apps), but my weekend? Completely hijacked by Cousins Beach drama.

The most embarrassing part?

I regret nothing.

But, here's what surprised me most about falling down the TSITP rabbit hole: this show is so much more than the “Team Conrad vs. Team Jeremiah” debate that dominates social media.

Yes, the love triangle is there, and yes, it's compelling in that way that makes you want to shake your phone and yell at fictional characters.

Beneath all that romantic tension lies something much deeper.

Here's what I love about it (And why it hit so hard): If you want to avoid spoilers, this is your warning to stop here.

1. Soulmate friendship: An unbreakable bond

“Best friends are important. They're the closest thing to a sister you'll ever have.”

Watching Susannah and Laurel's relationship unfold on screen, I saw my own friendships reflected back at me.

At my age, I've come to deeply appreciate these connections. The way I can talk more openly with my girlfriends than I do with my husband sometimes. The bond is different. The connection runs deeper.

That devastating moment when they discovered Susannah's cancer had returned?
I cried buckets. Actual buckets.

The thought of losing my closest friends is unbearable, and the show captured that fear with brutal honesty.

2. Sibling dynamics that feel too real

As an eldest child, Conrad's character resonates with me on a visceral level.

Sometimes, as the eldest, we think we need to be the bigger person, make decisions that benefit everyone, only to have our sacrifices go unappreciated.

I see these same patterns playing out with my own children. My eldest carrying responsibility like Conrad, my second navigating their role like Jeremiah.

The show understands that birth order shapes us in ways we don’t even realise, and watching these dynamics play out feels both painful and validating.

3. Young love (And why we never get over it)

Who doesn't remember how everything felt monumental when you were young?

The part of me that appreciates a good story loves watching young love unfold in all its intensity. The way a simple gesture could make your entire day, how every emotion was turned up to eleven. Watching Belly navigate her feelings brought back that rush of first love, when everything mattered so intensely it hurt.

But then there's the older, more grounded me, the one screaming at my screen for Belly to smarten up because, seriously, you're gorgeous and there are literally other men in the world. 

I find myself wanting to yell at Conrad, too: "It's okay, Connie baby, twenty years from now, you'll get over it and look back at this fondly. Life goes on!"

It's this constant internal conflict between my romantic heart and my practical brain that keeps me completely hooked.

I'm simultaneously swooning over the grand gestures and rolling my eyes at the drama — living vicariously through their intensity while wanting to shake some sense into them.

Maybe that's the real genius of the show. It lets us experience both the beautiful naivety of young love and the hard-earned wisdom that comes after.

4. I apparently have a thing for brotherly love triangles.

I've just realised something about myself that may be slightly concerning.

I have a definite pattern:

The Summer I Turned Pretty, 

The Brothers Hawthorne, 

The Vampire Diaries… 

Apparently, I'm drawn to love triangles involving brothers like a moth to a very dramatic flame.

Do I have a problem? Absolutely not.

Give me all the drama, all the complicated family dynamics, all the “choosing between brothers” angst.

This is peak fictional romance, and I'm here for every messy moment of it.

5. The soundtrack I'm enjoying (But making my kids cringe)

Can we talk about the music, please?

Red Hot Chili Peppers' "Can't Stop" when Conrad walks into therapy? Chef’s kiss.

Radiohead's "No Surprises" after that excruciating lunch scene? Perfect.

The show also introduced me to an array of new music that I'm now enthusiastically singing along to, much to my children's chagrin.

They're more embarrassed by me now more than ever because I'm "trying too hard to be young and cool."

Whatever.

If appreciating good music is a crime, lock me up.

But wait, it gets worst…

Want to know the ultimate sign of obsession though?

I've started reading the actual books.

No. I'm not kidding.

I've put aside Priory of the Orange Tree (for the fifth time. Seriously, does that plot ever pick up?) to dive into Jenny Han's trilogy.

Also, can we take a minute to appreciate how pretty the cover of this Penguin edition is, please?

My current read can wait. I need to cleanse TSITP out of my system properly, and apparently, that means consuming it in every possible format.

The verdict: TikTok wins again.

So yes, TikTok is dangerous.

It turned a 50-year-old, fairly responsible woman with mostly acceptable life choices into a TSITP addict, ordering pizza for lunch on a Sunday because I just could NOT pause for lunch until I finished one more episode.

It made me care deeply about the romantic choices of fictional teenagers.
It reminded me what it feels like to be completely absorbed in a story.

And honestly? 

I think that’s okay. Sometimes we need to be reminded that it's okay to get swept away. To feel things deeply. To root for Team Conrad with the passion of someone who’s forgotten she has bills to pay, kids to feed, and a back that now clicks when she stands up too fast.

The Summer I Turned Pretty might be marketed to teens, but its themes are timeless.

Love, loss, family, friendship, growing up. These experiences don't have age limits. Neither does the joy of finding a story that makes you forget everything else for a weekend.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to check when Episode 4 drops.

And maybe finally tackle the dishes.

But first, let me just read one more chapter...

What Ozzy's Final Bow Taught Me About Going Out On Our Own Terms.

Photo: Ozzy Osbourne

I’ve been thinking a lot about Ozzy Osbourne lately.

I'm not an Ozzy fan, if I'm being honest, but he was always there, blaring from someone’s stereo, showing up on MTV, or stumbling through the chaos of suburban life on The Osbournes. 

I didn’t seek him out, but I didn’t have to.

As a Gen-Xer, his music and persona were part of the background noise of my growing-up years.

So when I heard that he passed away just weeks after his final concert, it hit me in a way I didn’t expect. There was something heartbreakingly poetic about it, like an ending within an ending, wrapped in the kind of rock and roll mythology that defined so much of our generation’s cultural landscape.

What struck me even more was the fact that he performed that show in Birmingham, despite Parkinson’s, despite a body that no longer did what he wanted it to. He still showed up. Still chose to sing one last time. 

I saw a few clips of the concert online, and even though I’m not a fan, I found myself whispering, "Wow." 

There was a kind of grit to it. A sense of dignity in defiance.

The part that really got me, though, was when he sang “Mama, I’m Coming Home.” The irony wasn’t lost on me. This man, who spent decades as the Prince of Darkness, chose to go out with something soft. Something tender. Something that said: I’m done, and I’m at peace with that.

And then, just like that, he was gone.

Watching it all unfold, even from behind a screen, left me with one clear impression: Ozzy went out on his own terms, in his own legendary way.

And it got me thinking: What does it really mean to go out on your own terms?

For Ozzy, it was a final concert. One last bow in front of a crowd that had loved him for decades.

But for the rest of us, those without the stage or the spotlight, what does that look like?

I’ve started to realise that going out on your own terms doesn’t have to be dramatic. It doesn’t have to be public. It doesn’t even have to be big. It just has to be intentional.

Maybe it’s finishing that novel you’ve been meaning to write for the past twenty years.

Maybe it’s continuing to show up for your kids, even when they don’t need you in the same way anymore.

Maybe it’s keeping your sense of humour intact as your joints get louder every morning.

For me, it’s writing posts like this: trying to make sense of the moments that shape us, and leaving a trail of thoughts behind as a kind of legacy.

I think a lot about legacy these days. 

About what kind of trail I want to leave behind. 

As a Gen-Xer, I grew up with a quiet kind of rebellion. Learning not to expect too much, keeping my guard up, and figuring things out as I went along. 

That independent streak? I still have it. 

And maybe it’s what will help me age with some semblance of grace. Because I don’t want anyone else scripting my ending. I want to write it myself.

That’s why I’ve been thinking more seriously about living with intention. Not just floating through the days, but really asking myself the tough questions: What matters most? What would I regret not doing? How do I want to be remembered?

Sometimes that means uncomfortable conversations about ageing, death, and everything in between. Sometimes it means saying no to things that drain me, and yes to things that spark something in me, even if they scare me. And sometimes, it just means sitting down with a cup of coffee, opening my laptop, and writing it all down.

I think that’s what Ozzy did, in his own way. 

That final show felt almost choreographed: the hometown crowd, the original band, the songs that defined a generation. And then, a mic drop exit. 

Not everyone gets a finale like that. 

Most of us won’t. But we do get small choices, every day, that shape the ending we’ll one day have.

This past few weeks, we lost icons we grew up watching. 

Ozzy. Malcolm-Jamal Warner. Hulk Hogan. Icons who seemed larger than life. Their departures are starting to feel personal. 

They’re reminders that we’re entering a new season, whether we’re ready for it or not.

So I keep asking myself: How do I want to live this next chapter? What story am I still trying to tell?

Maybe the lesson isn’t about going out in a blaze of glory. 

Maybe it’s about going out as yourself, flawed, human, but still reaching for connection, for meaning, for presence.

Mama, I’m coming home indeed.

We all are, eventually.

The question is: what kind of journey do we want it to be?

10 Years Later… I'm Back (Sort Of)

Photo credit: Unsplash

So.

The last post on this blog was December 2015.

I know this because I just spent way too long scrolling through ten years of silence, and it's weird. It feels like a different person wrote all these posts so many years ago, someone with considerably more energy and an alarming number of exclamation points.

Despite feeling disconnected with my past self reading old posts on this site, I'm glad that one thing is constant: I never stopped reading. 

Thank god, because if I'd lost that too, this would be a very different (and much more depressing) comeback story.

I'm glad I've managed to keep up with my reading in the past decade. I may not read 100 novels a year like some kind of bookish hermit, but I read enough to keep my Goodreads account from looking completely abandoned. I've just... stopped talking about it.

Stopped writing about it.

Life got busy in that way it does when you're juggling everything at once, and somehow, sitting down to write a thoughtful blog post about books became a luxury I never quite had time for. Right up there with eight hours of sleep and eating lunch without someone asking me where their socks are.

But the books kept coming.

I still have the occasional late-night reading sessions that turn into early-morning regrets (and even more regret when my alarm goes off). Lunch breaks spent in a hidden café, alone with a paperback in hand. That guilty pleasure of sneaking in "just one more chapter" when I should have been doing literally anything else productive, like feeding my children to make sure they stay alive. You know, basic parenting stuff.

I have a decade's worth of unreviewed books rattling around in my head.

Stories that made me cry in waiting areas (and immediately look around to see if anyone noticed), characters I'm still thinking about years later like they're distant relatives I worry about, plot twists that genuinely made me gasp and then immediately want to text someone about, except I'd stopped being the person who did that kind of thing. Apparently, I became too cool for enthusiastic book texting. What a loss.

And that's the thing I miss most.

Not the reading, I never lost that, thankfully. But the processing. 

The thinking out loud about why a book worked or didn't. The joy of finding someone who loved the same obscure romance series and could discuss the problematic love interest with equal passion. The satisfaction of writing a review that helped someone else discover their next favorite story (or saved them from a terrible one).

Do people still write long-form posts? Or has that become an archaic practice, like using a phone book or remembering phone numbers? Have we all moved to short tweets and 15-second videos where I'd have to explain Pride and Prejudice in the time it takes to sneeze?

At fifty, I've realized something:

I don't actually care.

I don't care if book blogging is "still a thing" or if Blogger is considered ancient technology (though if it is, please don't tell me, I'm perimenopausal and thus, a tad bit fragile).

I don't care if three people read this or three hundred.

I do enough audience-building and strategic content creation over on my professional blog and LinkedIn for my career. This space is purely for fun. No analytics to check, no engagement rates to worry about, no strategic posting schedules. Just me, rambling about books like it's 2010.

I'm not trying to build another platform or grow a following.

I just want a place to pen my thoughts freely, and maybe—just maybe—reconnect with other book bloggers who still love talking about stories and haven't been completely consumed by the algorithm gods.

I just want my thoughts about books to go somewhere other than the running commentary in my head or a tweet that disappears into the void faster than my motivation to exercise.

But here's the thing:

This blog name, Ulat Buku in the City, doesn't quite fit anymore.

That name belonged to a different version of me. One who was trying so hard to be clever and relevant. A single bookworm obsessed with Sex and the City (and, well, living in one). Now I'm more likely to be reading with a cup of tea than a cosmopolitan, and honestly? That suits me better.

After much brainstorming with ChatGPT, Claude, and every other AI assistant I mess around with for fun (yes, I'm that person now), I've decided to rename this space:

Stories I Keep.

Because that's what this blog will be—a place to keep the stories that matter. The books. The shows. The characters and plotlines and ideas that stick around long after the final page or the end credits, along with some personal stories that I hope might resonate with someone else out there (or at least provide mild entertainment).

I've got ten years of book opinions all in my head, and frankly, that feels like a waste.

Some of those books deserve to be talked about. Some of those stories are still living rent-free in my brain, years later, refusing to pay emotional rent.

And I don't just want to write book reviews, though you'll definitely see some five-star gushes and the occasional "why did I finish this?" disaster (because apparently, I hate myself enough to finish books I'm not enjoying).

I want to write about all the things that come with being someone who's made stories a central part of their life.

Like the never-ending battle between my Kobo and Kindle (spoiler: they both have their place, and yes, I will die on this hill, probably clutching both devices).

Or how I manage my ridiculous TBR without completely losing my mind (spoiler alert: I haven't figured this out yet, but I keep trying).

Or my love-hate relationship with book-to-screen adaptations that range from "this is perfection" to "what did they DO to my beloved characters?"

Honestly?

I want to talk about more than just books. I've been watching shows and movies all these years too and I have opinions. Strong ones. Probably too many. I've learned things from stories, both on the page and on screen, that have genuinely shaped how I see the world. Sometimes even a random concert (like Ozzy Osbourne's farewell show) teaches you something profound about endings you never expected and that's definitely something worth writing about.

Stories I Keep feels right.

Because it's about all of it: the books, the screens, the snacks (so many snacks), the thoughts that come from a life spent consuming stories in whatever form they take.

So here I am, tentatively poking at this keyboard again, wondering if writing is like riding a bike (and hoping it's not, because I'm terrible at riding bikes).

Wondering if anyone else out there has ever taken a decade-long break from blogging but never stopped being a reader, a watcher, a person who thinks way too much about fictional people and their questionable life choices.

If you're reading this, whether you remember this little corner of the internet or you've just stumbled across it because the algorithm gods smiled upon you... hello 👋.

I've got some serious catching up to do.

And a lot of opinions to share.

Fair warning: I may have developed even stronger feelings about things in my old age. You've been warned.

2015 Reading Summary

I'm glad to say that I have completed all my reading challenges for 2015 successfully. I just wished I had more time to posts my review for all the books I've read this year and participate in the challenge discussions held by the hosts for each challenge.

Anyway, even though I've met my challenges, I felt that I kinda cheated cause most of the books are really books I read/listened together with the kids.

However, I did read a lot of series. I FINALLY finished reading the full installment of Sookie Stackhouse. I stopped reading Sookie Stackhouse when the TV series came out. I figured I had the complete books, so I should just get it over and done with. Slightly disappointed with the final outcome of the series but glad that I finished it nonetheless.

My favorite series for the year is The Incorrigible Children of Ashton Place. I love all the characters and absolutely love the storyline. The narration on audiobook is really excellent. I honestly can't wait for book six to be out sometime in 2016.

We Were Liars is my most memorable read for 2015. Hands down.

To sum up, I participated in three challenges this year and read/listened to a total of 39 books. Woohoo...

Here are my list of books for 2015:

1. Chasing Brooklyn by Lisa Schroeder

Format: E-book

Challenge: 2015 Ebook Reading Challenge | Goodreads 30 books in 2015

2. Eleanor & Park by Rainbow Rowell

Format: E-book

Challenge: 2015 Ebook Reading Challenge | Goodreads 30 books in 2015

3. Dead Reckoning by Charlaine Harris

Format: E-book

Challenge: 2015 E-book Reading Challenge | Goodreads 30 books in 2015

4. Deadlocked by Charlaine Harris

Format: E-book

Challenge: 2015 Ebook Reading Challenge | Goodreads 30 books in 2015

5. Dead Ever After by Charlaine Harris

Format: E-book

Challenge: 2015 E-book Reading Challenge | Goodreads 30 books in 2015

6. Hammered (The Iron Druid Chronicles) by Kevin Hearne

Format: Audiobook

Challenge: 2015 Audiobook Challenge | Goodreads 30 books in 2015

7. The Little Engine that Could by Watty Piper 

Format: Audiobook

Challenge: 2015 Audiobook Challenge | Goodreads 30 books in 2015

8. Jack & the Beanstalk by Richard Walker and Niamh Sharkey

Format: Audiobook

Challenge: 2015 Audiobook Challenge | Goodreads 30 books in 2015

9. The Twelve by Justin Cronin

Format: E-book

Challenge: 2015 E-book reading challenge | Goodreads 30 books in 2015

10. The Interrupted Tale (The Incorrigible Children of Ashton Place, #4) by Maryrose Wood

Format: Audiobook

Challenge: 2015 Audiobook Challenge | Goodreads 30 books in 2015

11. Usborne Very First Reading: Book 1 - Pirate Pat by Mairi Mackinnon

Format: Hardcover

Challenge: Goodreads 30 books in 2015

12. LegoStar Wars: A New Hope by Emma Grange

Format: Paperback

Challenge: Goodreads 30 books in 2015

13. LegoStar Wars: The Empire Strikes Back by Emma Grange

Format: Paperback

Challenge: Goodreads 30 books in 2015

14. Usborne Very First Reading: Book 2 - The Dressing-Up Box by Mairi Mackinnon

Format: Hardcover

Challenge: Goodreads 30 books in 2015

15. We Were Liars by E.Lockhart
Format: E-Book
Challenge: 2015 Ebook Reading Challenge | Goodreads 30 books in 2015

16. Going Gray by Briand Spangler
Format: E-Book
Challenge: 2015 Ebook Reading Challenge | Goodreads 30 books in 2015

17. The Gruffalo by Julia Donaldson
Format: Audiobook
Challenge: 2015 Audiobook Challenge | Goodreads 30 books in 2015

18. The Girl on the Train by Paula Hawkins
Format: Audiobook
Challenge: 2015 Audiobook Challenge | Goodreads 30 books in 2015

19. The Walk by Richard Paul Evans
Format: Audiobook
Challenge: 2015 Audiobook Challenge | Goodreads 30 books in 2015

20. Peter and the Wolf by Sergei Prokofiev
Format: Audiobook
Challenge: 2015 Audiobook Challenge | Goodreads 30 books in 2015

21. The Snow Queen by Hans Christian Anderson
Format: Audiobook
Challenge: 2015 Audiobook Challenge | Goodreads 30 books in 2015

22. The Dinosaur that Pooped a Planet by Tom Fletcher & Dougie Poynter
Format: Audiobook
Challenge: 2015 Audiobook Challenge | Goodreads 30 books in 2015

23. Off to Be the Wizard by Scott Meyer
Format: Audiobook
Challenge: 2015 Audiobook Challenge | Goodreads 30 books in 2015

24. The Very Busy Spider
Format: Audiobook
Challenge: 2015 Audiobook Challenge | Goodreads 30 books in 2015

25. The Gruffalo's Child by Julia Donaldson
Format: Audiobook
Challenge: 2015 Audiobook Challenge | Goodreads 30 books in 2015

26. Reasonable Doubt by Whitney G
Format: Audiobook
Challenge: 2015 Audiobook Challenge | Goodreads 30 books in 2015

27. Rot and Ruin by Jonathan Maberry
Format: Audiobook
Challenge: 2015 Audiobook Challenge | Goodreads 30 books in 2015

28. Dust and Decay by Jonathan Maberry
Format: Audiobook
Challenge: 2015 Audiobook Challenge | Goodreads 30 books in 2015

29. Flesh and Bone by Jonathan Maberry
Format: Audiobook
Challenge: 2015 Audiobook Challenge | Goodreads 30 books in 2015

30. The Unmapped Sea (The Incorrigible Children of Ashton Place #5)
Format: Audiobook
Challenge: 2015 Audiobook Challenge | Goodreads 30 books in 2015

31. Room on the Broom by Julia Donaldson
Format: Audiobook
Challenge : 2015 Audiobook Challenge | Goodreads 30 books in 2015

32. The Fold by Peter Clines
Format: Audiobook
Challenge: 2015 Audiobook Challenge | Goodreads 30 books in 2015

33. Odd Thomas by Dean Koontz
Format: Audiobook
Challenge: 2015 Audiobook Challenge | Goodreads 30 books in 2015

34. A Squash and a Squeeze by Julia Donaldson and Axel Scheffler
Format: Paperback
Challenge: Goodreads 30 books in 2015

35. The Little Shop of Monsters by R.L. Stine
Format: Audiobook
Challenge: 2015 Audiobook Challenge | Goodreads 30 books in 2015

36. Fire and Ash: A Rot and Ruin Series by Jonathan Mulberry
Format: Audiobook
Challenge: 2015 Audiobook Challenge | Goodreads 30 books in 2015

37. The Remaining by D.J. Molles
Format: Audiobook
Challenge: 2015 Audiobook Challenge | Goodreads 30 books in 2015

The Gray Series: Omnibus Edition by Brian Spangler
38. Book #2: Gray Skies
39. Book #3: Blinded by Sight
40. Book #4: Union
Format: E-Book
Challenge: 2015 E-Book Reading Challenge | Goodreads 30 books in 2015

Here are the total books read per challenge:

Listened: 24/15

Read: 11/10

Read: 39/30

So that's my reading list for 2015. I'm googling challenges for 2016 to see what I can participate in next year. I'll definitely repeat all three challenges again next year but will commit to more books.

If you know of any great book reading challenges that is going around right now, do drop me a note.

Hugs.