The year has turned once more, and with it comes the familiar ritual of tracing a finger down a sparsely lit shelf, deciding which stories will carry us through the months ahead. There is something quietly solemn about assembling a reading line-up for 2025. Each book chosen is a small承诺 to a future self, a promise that the darker hours will not be wasted. This year, the line-up leans deliberately into shadow: gothic fiction, dystopian prophecy, noir thrillers, and translated works heavy with melancholy. It is a list built not for comfort, but for communion with the gloom.
There is a strange irony in the imagery we choose to surround our darkest reads. My reading journal for 2025 opens against a hand-drawn tropical backdrop, all palm fronds and washed-out pastels, whilst the titles inscribed within it skew towards haunted houses and slow-burning dread. Perhaps this contrast is the point.