Fast Writing & Slow Reading

Taking 9 months to read a book... Twice.

I’ve been thinking a lot about reading and writing speed lately, as I am drafting something new while simultaneously reading slowly through MOST ELIGIBLE, my debut rom-com for one of the last times. I consider myself on the slower side as a reader, and try not to think about my writing speed too much. It is what it is, and everyone’s process is different! But lately, as I’ve been drafting a new project, I have felt a bit like a monkey at a typewriter, ferociously pounding my computer keyboard, probably writing something about as messy as monkey-typewriter-writing would be. This has all made me think about books I’ve sped through reading and books I’ve taken a loooooong time to read (and neither of these speeds is an indication of how much I enjoyed them!)

I know this is a cat and not a monkey.

My last newsletter post was about embracing a ‘year of yay,’ and trying to take time to enjoy the writing and reading process. This is an ongoing project for me, and so far in 2025 I have a good reading rhythm going, a bit like a snowball effect. The more I read, the more I want to read! But if I get stuck and don’t read for a while, it takes longer to get back into it.

Before I get into my story about reading The Goldfinch, I want to quickly shout out the lovely Nicole Barton, who had me as a guest on her podcast this week! I was very honored to be invited and had a great time talking with Nicole.

Link to episode on Spotify:

Link to episode on Apple Podcasts:

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My slowest read…

When I was a freshman in college, I read The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt for the first time. I got a copy from the university library, so it didn’t have the usual cover—it was brown and leathery and felt quite academic. I already knew most of the story because a few years earlier, my dad had read it and would recount bits to me whenever I saw him.

Here’s the blurb of The Goldfinch, if you’re not familiar:

Aged thirteen, Theo Decker, son of a devoted mother and a reckless, largely absent father, survives an accident that otherwise tears his life apart. Alone and rudderless in New York, he is taken in by the family of a wealthy friend. He is tormented by an unbearable longing for his mother, and down the years clings to the thing that most reminds him of her: a small, strangely captivating painting that ultimately draws him into the criminal underworld. As he grows up, Theo learns to glide between the drawing rooms of the rich and the dusty antiques store where he works. He is alienated and in love - and his talisman, the painting, places him at the centre of a narrowing, ever more dangerous circle.

Like Theo carries this painting around, I brought my library book to the dining hall every time I ate alone that year (which was often!) and as a result, it took me about 9 months to finish the book. Thankfully I was able to keep renewing the library loan. To be honest, it was the perfect way to experience this book, since it takes place over such a huge expanse of Theo’s life. Reading it was like diving back into a gritty but cozy world that I didn’t totally understand but never wanted to leave.

Last year, I decided to reread The Goldfinch. I didn’t remember too much of the plot and wanted to see if I would have the same visceral, blown away reaction that I did the first time.

The answer was yes and no. There were certain parts of the book that took me literal months to get through, and certain parts that hit me entirely differently than they had the first time. There were parts that I was less convinced by than my first read (Theo’s love for Pippa being one), and parts that I had to set aside for a few days because they were too heavy. All in all, it was a very different reading experience.

But just like the first time, it took me about 9 months to get through the whole book. Reading it so slowly had me forgetting some things along the way, but it was also a fantastic way to slow my brain down and focus on the beauty of the writing.

Spoilers in the following paragraph!
This second time around, I was extremely moved by Theo’s realization of his mother’s absence (this isn’t a big spoiler), as well as the moment later in the book when he is reconnected with the painting. It has some of the most beautiful ‘coming home’ language I’ve ever read.

From the beginning of the book, when Theo first sees the painting and is coming to terms with his mother’s death and absence.

Toward the end of the book, when Theo is reunited with the painting after many years.

I MEAN HOW GORGEOUS IS THIS?!?! Maybe it was the mood I was in, but I was moved to tears. “I was different, but it wasn’t.”

Writing this post felt like being an English major all over again (but really, do we ever stop being English majors?) and if you’ve gotten this far, thank you for reading! I love this book, and if you read it, I hope you do too.

What I’m reading… (more quickly than 9 months per book)

I just finished reading Ninth House by Leigh Bardugo with my boyfriend, and it was a darkly thrilling, engrossing, wild ride! For fans of dark academia, fantasy, secret societies, and secrets in general. I also read Flirting with Disaster by Naina Kumar, which takes the “snowed in” trope to a whole new level: “hurricaned-in-with-your-ex-husband.” It was delightful. Now I’m off to start an advanced copy of Backhanded Compliments by Katie Chandler, which is “a steamy sapphic romance with a fantastical twist about two bitter tennis rivals who realize they are reluctant soulmates” — sounds incredible!

I’m also watching the tv show The Pitt on HBO, which is like a grittier, less sexy Grey’s Anatomy. Highly recommend!

That’s all for now. Until next time!

~ Isabelle