Every Book I Read in January

January is a weird month - half fresh start, half leftover from last year. The days are cold; everyone’s chasing some unrealistic “new year, new me” goal, and time feels both too fast and too slow. It’s a good month for books.

This past month, I bounced between the wild, the deeply personal, and the brutally honest. Some books made me want to escape into nature. Others made me question my role in the world’s problems. And one reminded me to take a deep breath and stop overthinking things. Here’s what I read.


The River - Peter Heller

A peaceful canoe trip gone wrong. Two friends, Wynn and Jack, paddle through the Canadian wilderness, enjoying nature and the river's silence—until the smoke from a distant wildfire turns their adventure into a survival story. But the fire isn’t their biggest problem. A couple is arguing at a campsite upriver. Then, the woman disappears. Then they hear someone coming after them.

Heller writes nature like it’s something you can hear and smell. The river isn’t just a setting—it’s alive, pulling the characters deeper into something they don’t understand. The tension builds slowly, like a storm in the distance, until everything unravels at once. It’s gripping, immersive, and full of quiet moments that make the chaos feel even sharper when it hits.

The only downside is the ending. It feels rushed. Like an intense campfire tale where the storyteller suddenly says, “Anyway, you get the point.” But even with that, it sticks with you.


Poverty, by America - Matthew Desmond

Desmond doesn’t just explain poverty in America—he shoves your face in it and asks why you’re not doing more about it. The book is direct, uncomfortable, and impossible to ignore. His argument is simple: poverty isn’t an accident. It’s created, maintained, and—whether we admit it or not—most of us benefit from it.

He breaks down how the wealthy and middle class take advantage of tax breaks, cheap labor, and government policies designed to protect those who already have money. But he doesn’t just blame politicians or billionaires; he asks the reader to examine their own role in the system. And that makes the book so powerful—it’s not a lecture from a mountaintop, it’s a call to look in the mirror.

It’s a book that changes how you see the world. After reading it, you start noticing things—who gets ignored, who profits, and how poverty is built into the everyday conveniences we don’t think twice about.


Gator Country - Rebecca Renner

Think Tiger King, but swap out tigers for alligators and make it less ridiculous (but only slightly). Gator Country is an undercover look at Florida’s illicit alligator trade, featuring conservationists, poachers, and people who seem to operate in the morally gray space between the two.

The heart of the book follows Jeff Babauta, an undercover wildlife officer who creates a fake alligator farm to bust illegal gator dealers. If that sounds like the plot of an HBO series, that’s because it absolutely should be. The book pulls you into the swamps, introduces you to people who see gators as either dollar signs or living relics that need protection, and makes you question whether “good guys” and “bad guys” even exist in this world.

It’s gritty, fascinating, and surprisingly funny at times. And it made me rethink the way humans interact with nature—not in some abstract, poetic way, but in a Wow, we screw up everything we touch kind of way.


Peace is Every Step - Thích Nhất Hạnh

If Gator Country is about the ways humans screw up nature, Peace Is Every Step is about how we screw up our minds. Written by Vietnamese Buddhist monk Thích Nhất Hạnh, this book is like a deep breath in the middle of a chaotic month. It’s short, simple, and full of reminders that most of what we stress about is unnecessary.

Here is the main idea: peace isn’t something you have to search for—it’s already there, buried under the noise of your thoughts. He writes about breathing, walking, eating, and doing the most mundane things with mindfulness. It sounds obvious, but it’s the kind of book that makes you realize how much of your life is spent distracted, anxious, or on autopilot.

Did it make me a Zen master overnight? No. But did it make me pause and take a deep breath instead of doomscrolling Instagram? Yeah, and that’s something.


The Overstory - Richard Powers

This book is about trees. But also, it’s not about trees. It’s about humans who are connected to trees in different ways—scientists, activists, artists, people who stumble into nature and never see the world the same way again.

Powers writes about trees like they’re ancient gods we’ve spent centuries ignoring. And by the end of the book, you start to believe it. The story weaves together different characters and timelines, showing how forests shape lives and how human short-sightedness keeps destroying things we don’t fully understand.

At times, it feels less like a novel and more like a wake-up call. It’s long, slow, and dense in places, but there are moments so beautifully written they stop you in your tracks. It’s the kind of book that changes how you look at a tree—not as background scenery, but as something alive, older than you, and probably smarter than you, too.


Final Thoughts

All of these books had something to say. The River made me want to get lost in the wilderness (but, like, safely). Poverty, by America made me uncomfortable in a way that felt necessary. Gator Country made me realize how little I know about Florida’s wildlife underworld. Peace Is Every Step made me stop and breathe, and The Overstory made me feel small in the best possible way.

If there’s a theme to this month, it’s awareness—of nature, of injustice, of my mind, of the things we ignore until they demand our attention. Books like these don’t just entertain you; they shift how you see the world, even if it’s just a little bit. And I’d say that’s time well spent.


What’s next?

I have no idea what I’ll read in February, but after this month, I might need something lighter. Maybe a good thriller. Or a book that doesn’t remind me how everything is connected and broken.

Or maybe I’ll just read Peace Is Every Step again and try to breathe a little more.


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The River: Beautiful Prose, Great Characters, and an Ending That Runs Aground