I only read one book in January, and I read it twice.

The title is Three Rings: A Tale of Exile, Narrative, and Fate by Daniel Mendelsohn.

I read parts of other books in January, but I didn’t finish any of them.

Yes, I’m that kind of reader.

I hop around, reading anywhere from seven to ten books at once.

Sometimes, I start a book and never finish it.

One book that I started in January, Why Fish Don’t Exist: A Story of Loss, Love, and the Hidden Order of Life by Lulu Miller, I know I’ll finish, eventually.

How do I know?

Miller’s voice speaks to me, directly, strangely, vividly.

Also, the book is about finding meaning in life — a subject I’m interested in, while knowing it’s a treacherous journey to take.

One thing Mendelsohn and Miller have in common is melancholy.

The two writers fight melancholy in different ways.

Mendelsohn uses optimism.

Miller uses science.

They both fall prey to philosophy.

They are both thinkers who hope their intellect can save them from their incomprehensible mortality.

Life may be meaningless, but we know how to make it meaningful.

We tell tales and stories.

I like sad stories.

I like people who feel melancholy, but still choose to keep living and writing.

When I read a sad story, I don’t feel sad.

I feel seen.

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