I am obliged to say that if you'd like to read a serialised book about trailer parks and magic that is absolutely not a romance, then step right this way, please, there's swords

I was recently cleaning out my email inbox, which is a mix of the following:

• Unread emails
• Read emails marked "unread" so that I remember to return to them because they need steps
• Read emails that are some sort of self-loop link depository
• Read emails that are general reference I can so I can find them even on my ancient old phone
• Read emails that, at this point are a sort of weathered signpost of time past, left in there like initials scratched in bark

The concept of inbox zero is like, but the tagging systems aren't good enough for that and also what if you forget something when you're not looking at it??? Sorry, I need the story idea from 2019 I had my partner send me in an email within eye's reach. It's "clean" now, which means there are still a lot of unread emails but none are of the "come back and deal with this" kind, just regular ol' buildup of newsletters ¹. Not perfect, but better than it was, which is all I try to aim for.

The back half of October is often one of righting things, for me. Partly it is to bolster my regular autumnal week off, so I don't bury myself spending the entire time cleaning or fixing things. I also just always sort of feel like cleaning in autumn, not spring--maybe the result of having lived most of my life where, after a brief beautiful bloom of autumnal beauty, a wet and heavy curtain is drawn across the world. Fall cleaning is the chance to make the small place you're stuck a nicer retreat from the ice and wet, and to soothe how working hours mean you see sunlight less than that girl in the Bradbury story².

Anyway, it's a season of accounting and taking stock, and being honest about what one has left within the arbitrary date markers whose gravity controls so many orbits. What of my goals have I reached this year? Have I time left for this or that? What do I want to do next? And so on.

Recently, my pinky was hurting pretty badly. It's very easy for me to overextend parts of myself ³, so I was trying to figure out if it was some ergo thing, did I need to switch up my mouse or keyboard or ??? Then, I was out reading on a break, enjoying my nice new paper copy of Lute by Jennifer Thorne (a favourite spooky season read) and realised: yeah, my finger hurts because I am balancing the book open with one hand, a bunch of weight landing on little old pinky.

The lightbulb turned on. Flickering, but on.

The hefty weight of the average trade paperback had betrayed me. While wondering why this hadn't happened with previous books I'd been reading, I realised those were all the tidy little mass market paperback size⁴, the weight of which is no burden to the littlest finger.

I changed up my grip and my pinky has healed, but I am reconsidering what book to read next because I know I will forget to hold it right and probably jank up my finger again. I'd made the goal to read at least one physical book a month with easy confidence at the start of the year as my partner's librarian mom had sent me a gorgeous stack of '60s and '70s mass market paperback horror and sci-fi from a book sale. Turns out though! When you're picking based on cover and title, sometimes the interior is: not good. So, I'd stalled.

Image description: A stack of mid-century mass-marked paperback books: Tomorrow Times Seven, The Caves of Steel, The Purple Cloud, The Naked Sun, The Shores of Space, The Year's Best SF, Cry Horror!, Quiet Horror. Leaning against the stack is Martian Time-Slip by Phillip K. Dick, the cover showing a man hoeing a crop in an alien landscape, a futuristic looking house in the valley below him. End ID.

Then, I needed a comfort read and an old favourite I've had over half my life did what it always does and I was like "well, these new books can go hang for now." Things are back on track, and rereading is always like visiting old friends. I love reading new stuff but the old stuff reminds you why you got in the game, one might say.

Anyway, I'm only meeting my goal of physical books read because I recognised my initial concept hadn't properly fit what I was capable of. Sorry! Not got the brain currently for what turned out to be a 1963 pocket library reprint of a 1930 publication of a 1901 apocalyptic "last man" story⁵. How about a horse racing mystery set on a cross-continental Canadian train instead, thanks⁶.

You see, I've been doing these project-based "year goals" (they're NOT "new year resolutions" they're "things I want to get done this year") for a bit now, they've evolved as my various Planner Systems have evolved. I have had massive lists with too many things, not sorted by desire or effort, letting un-done projects roll over to the next year. Or I've misjudged things entirely and ended up with very pretty lists full of things that were achievable but didn't end up interesting me.

But this year I think I got it. I figured it out. I'm only meeting goals because I've been honest with myself about the scope of what I can or want to do. It's hard, you know? Because one wants to challenge oneself but also things that are too challenging can become something that one avoids because the reward just feels too far off.

So, you know, Goldilocks it. The kid didn't figure out what porridge or bed she liked until she gave 'em a go. It does mean you won't get it on the first try but goodness--who does? And dang, maybe you love cold porridge or a hard bed, or was there a third thing?...

Wait, theme of newsletter cancelled, sorry did you know that the little blonde girl version from picture books is not the original telling of The Three Bears? In the original work by Robert Southey they were just some guys (bears) and it was a rude older lady who busted in to poke around? Fascinating, etc, but really what is important here is wow, this is book design.

Image description: A snippet of a scanned book page, recounting the "Somebody has been sitting in my chair" bit of Goldilocks, and the voice of each bear has been rendered in a different typeface, with the big bear in something big and calligraphic, the middle bear in clean serif larger than the text of the story, and the littlest bear in itty-bitty italics. End ID.

Southey, R. (1865). The doctor, &c. New ed., London: Longmans, Green, and co..

Okay wow, also people have put a lot of work into analysing the story, good job Southey for creating such an enduring work, however it has been changed over time.

Anyway, you got this. Whatever you feel like you're running out of time to do, maybe it's still doable in different form. Maybe you'll metaphorically strain your dang pinky finger because you forgot about the different weights of things, but you'll figure it out.

Here's two books that use stylistic framing to anchor their story concepts. Both also have lady protaganists who are mean and angry and tired and do stupid things like lash out or not communicate, but who have people there to support them, whether they like it or not. Links go to the Storygraph entries for each title, a great place to check out content warnings and find ways to read them.

• Adorably, when I mentioned I'd just read Horrorstör by Grady Hendrix in the family Discord, several folks said it was their favourite from Hendrix. I'd never heard of it until a random reading round up and was like "well, I have to give that a try." The story is framed between something like promotional site copy and catalogue pages from a Blatantly NOT-IKEA furniture and lifestyle megastore. I hesitate to say much more because I knew it was going to be creepy or some flavour of horror (in the title, isn't it), but wasn't sure what flavour it would be and really enjoyed how it unreeled.
• How to Survive Camping: The Man With No Shadow by Bonnie Quinn is the first of a series. It's interstitial framing is sections from the titular guide. The setup is really really interesting to me--a town that knows it has Beasts and Haunts and is more than happy to make it one specific family's problem (and to bite the hand the moment they're reminded of something they're all involved in).

Not so much here in Southern California, but in much of the Northern Hemisphere the bright colours are finding deeper tints, and the weather is gloomier, so here are some bright and sunny moments.

Image description: A photo taken looking down into dozens of mums, or something like them, in yellows, soft purples and green. The blossom heads are all sheathed in coloured netting that either contrasts or matches the petals, keeping the blooms mostly closed. End ID.

Image description: A photo of the back of temporary stadium seating, which has been covered by bright yellow banners with shapes and stars on it in greens and pinks. The seats are crowded, and after a moment the eye stops being distracted by the various criss-crossing powerlines overhead to spot a rider on a motocross bike hovering in the air before them, turned fully on their side, mid-trick. End ID.

Image description: A photograph taken between two pastel blue-painted rails of a metal fence, framing two riders in plate armour and helmets, holding jousting poles, a squire wandering toward them. The closest rider is in green brocade with a kitty rampant in yellow, the horse bored and patient while they wait in the clear sunlight. In movement behind them is a night in black and white motley, heraldry not visible as they turn to take the field. End ID.

Some cool links to browsing through:

• The Luminist archives include a staggeringly large collection of periodicals, the kind where it's almost best to just pick a direction and start clicking at random. Many of the titles are scanned (particularly wonderful when it's fanzines), but just scrolling through all the covers is a journey on its own.
• Speaking of archives, this collction of illustrations from a Commision on Federal Paperwork from the late 1970s are charming as heck and, even in the modern world of less paper-paperwork, a mood.
• A different kind of werewolf story, People Like Us by Grace F. Hopkins over at Gigantosaurus is already going to be a regular re-read for me, I think.
• Delighted to my toes by ApertureScience.Com: A Critical Edition. It won the 2026 Richard Deswarte Prize in Digital History (go look at the other entries linked there, some good ones). One of the small sorrows in this modern world is the loss of supplemental sites to larger projects--interactive websites supporting media, alternate reality games, flash games, etc. This project "uses the Twine platform to offer a playable reproduction of the now-defunct ApertureScience website, with added commentary and navigational tools." The world of digital archives is a fascinating one, and this is a really wonderful application of the practice.
• Speaking of format, maybe you've already seen this but if not, lucky you! [Delisted] is an "unfiction" by Suricrasia in the form of a web-archived forum thread, and be sure to really poke around in it. I read it twice before uncovering the reveal, lol. I am such a sucker for ingenious use of format and the credits are super interesting for any nerds out there.

The Sameer Project continues to do amazing mutual aid work in Palestine and they particularly have been in need lately.

If you've thought of donating eSims, this guide was very helpful, and Crips for eSims for Gaza is a good option if you can't easily manage topping them up. There are also more traditional donation targets like the Palestine Children's Relief Fund, UNRWA, and Doctors Without Borders. If you prefer giving directly to families, Gaza Funds is a nice resource that facilitates finding campaigns.