In which I finish a book and promptly fall apart (just a little)

Dear reader,

I finished a book last week — Whereabouts by Jhumpa Lahiri — and since then, I’ve been in a state of quiet (and slightly dramatic) unraveling.

Not because the book kept me inside its unnamed narrator’s state of mind (it did, gently).

But because the real challenge begins after the final page: What do you read next?

Do you stay with the comfort of memoirs or risk a poorly timed romance? Trust an old literary flame or court a new author you’ve only just discovered? Believe the internet’s five-star praise or go with your gut?

In my latest blog post, I try to map the chaos. There are digressions. There is indecision. There are half-read books, neglected piles, and even a suspicion of allergic reactions from a used copy (true story).

It’s a light, slightly ridiculous, and hopefully relatable ode to the strange limbo that exists between two reads.

You can read the full post here:

Between the last page and the first

If you’ve ever spiralled while choosing your next book — or have a towering TBR that watches you like a judgemental roommate — this one’s for you.

Till the next chapter,

Alok