Back when I was in Dallas, perusing shelves at Half Price Books, my eye landed on a random title. That title reminded me of a hyped book from this summer: Emmy & Oliver. I remembered wanting to read Emmy & Oliver, but also knew it was no longer on my TBR list. Though I didn’t remember previewing and rejecting it, I figured that must have been what happened.
Later, while reading Six of Crows, I remembered I’d read another heist book this summer, but couldn’t remember the title. While scrolling through my 2015 folder on GoodReads, I passed the cover of Emmy & Oliver (not the heist book). Turns out, I read the book barely two months before, and reviewed it. Kinda. What I actually did was write a single paragraph about how the book was just okay for me. I didn’t actually review it, and the book just didn’t stick in my brain. I didn’t remember a thing about it!
Would it have stuck, had I done a full review? I don’t know. There are a few books from over the years that I can’t remember even after reading my in-depth reviews. Mostly, though, my reviews help me to trigger some memory of a book, if I don’t already remember it, as well as my at-the-time experiences with it. It’s kinda like how scents can be deeply tied to memories and nostalgia.
It makes me sad to go back and see just how many books I didn’t review over the years, particularly in 2012 when I took an extended leave from blogging. Of course, I prefer for books to be so amazing that I don’t need reviews to jog my memory. Not all books are like that, though, and reviews are my way of solidifying my book thoughts and feelings.