My year elsewhere, elsewhen

In real-life my 2024 felt mizzly; a gubber mud trudge with crows poking fun. But I’m lucky in many ways, so there was more to life than reality. This year, I’ve read wonders.

Did you know, I lived on the moon? I’ve hitched rides with hundreds of time travellers, got happily lost in non-linearity. I met a talking cat, swam with mermaid storytellers. I visited Japan several times, Sri Lanka, two speculated Londons, a couple of remembered New Yorks. Oh, and a labyrinth washed by tides and traversed by clouds.

I fell into a love story told fourfold, rode a name through the afterlife, crept through dark fairytales. I met Big Brother’s little sisters, mid-century space aliens, was welcomed by a lupine civilization. I learnt how realism is magic or marvellous, the beauty of numbers, the kindness of strangers, and so many wintery words. Just now, I’m attempting the South Pole.

Often stuck in that gubber mud, I’ve written little during 2024. But a little was perhaps good enough. In my Bluesky posts, I cleared mist from my specs with haiku, and wrote about my friends Starcat, Old Robot, and teasing corvids. In my (almost) secret novels, I unfolded a mystery in old photographs, roamed a far future folktale.

In other worlds, I’ve lived a magnificent year! That's to be celebrated, and I'm most grateful. Thank you, writers. Thanks if you’re still reading!

I wish you the 2025 you’re daydreaming about. (Unless you happen to be a billionaire.)

If you're curious about the books I loved, you can find them on Storygraph.

Photograph by Anastasia Zhenina