Fall Apart, Again : Chapter One
Pairing: Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x OFC!Genevieve
WC: 5k
Warnings: 18+ Blog; Heavy on the Angst, post-outbreak world, no specific age mentioned but reader is close in age to Joel, minor character death, Ellie and her smart mouth, leaving the rest to read at your own risk to not spoil things, reader has a name but there are zero references to her appearance/she’s a blank slate character, 2nd POV, this is way AU so can be read as Game Joel or TV Joel
A/N: I’ve been so excited and nervous for this series. I don’t have a timeline for posting with this one, just going to take my time with it. Big thank you to @gnpwdrnwhiskey for listening to me wrack my brain over this series and for being my second set of eyes!! Please go check out her new Dieter Series!!!
Series Masterlist / Playlist / Inspo Board
Next
Spring was slowly transitioning into the next season.
Bright fragrant blooms wilting away into the dry soil from where they were born— a poetic reminder of the time.
21 Summers.
21 years of surviving.
Enduring.
Remembering— the normal life before the outbreak that you mourn daily.
A giant Bur Oak lends itself to you, branches providing ample shade as you sit resting against its sturdy trunk, the ground cool beneath where you sit.
The harsh sunlight filters through the tree’s canopy, a warm dapple light speckled all around you.
There’s a gentle flicker to your left that catches your attention, a single light-ray hits the small diamond on your dainty gold band where it sits heavy on your ring finger. You hold your hand up, remembering back to when you both had found it, he had immediately dropped to his knee— it wasn’t much, but it was perfect.
“I give you this ring as a reminder that we face this world together. We’re an unbreakable team.”
Even after all these years and the circumstances of the world around you, it’s a vow you stand by.
Branches above rustle and crack as a breeze sweeps through, the edges of the paper that is resting on a book in your lap fold over with each small gust, drawing your attention back to the words you’ve written.
…We passed what looked like it was a small farm at one point. It made me yearn for normalcy. Where we could settle into the small farmhouse, drink our morning coffee on the wraparound porch while we watch the sun rise. Have all the animals that would give a homestead atmosphere. A coup of chickens where we would gather eggs daily, a flock of sheep and goats for milk, and a small herd of cows— because what’s a farm without some cows I can give silly names to.
We’d raise a family in that farmhouse— lots of babies running around to wrangle. Breakfast of pancakes and fresh eggs, all of us together around our table, then tucking them all in at night after we’ve read them several stories.
We’d lay in each other’s arms as the crickets sing their chirping songs. A breeze washing over us through the open windows, the evening air lighter and crisp as the night fades and our worn bodies succumb to sleep.
There wouldn’t be heartache or sadness. No fighting or stressing over jobs. We’d be happy. We’d be together…
“Eve! Let’s get goin’— we only got a few more hours of light left. Should be at the cabin before sundown.” The thick Texas twang breaks through your thoughts.
Steve standing off in the distance, his blonde hair disheveled and wind blown as he looks back to where you’re tucked under the tree.
He’s handsome in his own right, not someone you would have ever found yourself with in different circumstances, but now you wouldn’t know how to function without him.
A chance meeting the day of the outbreak had brought the two of you together.
You were working as a traveling nurse at a hospital 4 hours from where you lived, instantly going into crisis mode as lead of the trauma response team, the ER quickly overwhelmed with patients seeking treatment for bites or flu-like symptoms— it was unlike anything you had ever seen before in all your years as a nurse.
Steve, a retired detective, was on vacation with his wife visiting a friend before the initial outbreak happened. The morning of, he’d gone on a duck hunting trip, while his wife went to breakfast with some girlfriends at a local Waffle House. He had brought her into your ER when he noticed she was acting strangely, similar to the symptoms the news was reporting as a widespread epidemic. Her outcome was not hopeful as you did your best to administer vials of antibiotics and fluids, the infection moving through her was beyond anything you could treat.
It was Steve who made the call to abandon his wife and the hospital and the realization hit fairly quickly that there was less you could actually do to help others.
Fleeing the area, seeking solace in one another as you both navigated through quarantine zones— searching for familiarity in your former hometown, only to be met with decimation and nothingness.
Steve’s way around a gun helped keep you safe when evading FEDRA, the nursing kit you put together came in handy when stitching him up between shootouts and fighting off the infected— this was now your new normal.
As the years progressed, you both found contentment with each other. Security gave way to a sense of comfort and revival, falling into a deeper connection beyond two people surviving a post outbreak apocalypse— if you were going to be in each other’s lives, you might as well be fully committed.
“Eve! Pack your shit up— let’s go!” He spits out a little harsher, no real malice behind his tone— he likes to stick to his schedule.
You don't respond, folding your letter carefully then tucking all of your items into your canvas pack. Standing to your full height, you give your legs a minute to let the blood reacquaint fully, your hands brushing the bits of dust and weeds from your pants.
You hear Steve continue his huffing, as you make your way closer to where he’s standing.
“I thought I told you to knock it off with those pointless letters!” He gruffs, hands secure at his hips and his head cocked to the side, hoping to catch your gaze.
Your letters. They had become a loose journal, your stream of thoughts you needed to get out so you were not plagued by the pain and anxiety that came with them whirling around your brain.
Letters to your past, letters to a new life that awaits you and sometimes to no one at all— you wrote about your travels, things you missed or longed for now, hope for the future.
They were too much to keep, pages and pages filled with your words and stories, some containing memories too painful to read or share, a weight you didn’t want to carry, so you scattered them throughout your travels. In the last 21 years, you’ve written hundreds of them, dropping them in abandoned mailboxes, or tucked away in the abandoned spaces you’d settled into in passing, as if to send them to whomever you were writing to— leaving a trail of your life across cities and states.
“And I thought I told you to stop calling me Eve— guess we don’t always get what we want?” You had asked him multiple times over the years to not call you Eve, that was your former life and you hated the reminder, but you know he doesn’t do it out of spite.
The gravel crunches under your boots as you walk past, not looking to argue with him in the heat of the sun.
Steve’s hand reaches out clasping around yours, halting your movements, his eyes fixed on you, furrowed brows as if he wants to say something.
“Hey— Ya know I love you, right?” He sighs, his fingers toying with the gold band on your ring finger.
You look to where your hands are joined, the twisting of the gold band a small gesture of his when things get tough or tense, you smile when you meet his gaze again.
“I know.” You do know, and you feel it too. “Come on, we’ve only got a few hours of light left.” He shakes his head, but gives you a smile at the way you throw his comment back at him.
*
It had been close to 2 hours of walking, nearly dark, by the time you both made it to the cabin, nestled among dozens of other abandoned cabins on the hillside of an old ski resort.
You imagine it was a popular spot in its prime, filled with families taking their kids on their first snow trips, friends racing each other down the slopes, non-skiers enjoying warm beverages in the lodge while everyone else enjoyed the snowy weather.
Now desolate and forgotten, a stop for raiders on the hunt for supplies and hostages or survivors seeking refuge in search of a town just north of here, Jackson.
Steve had managed to trade for a hand-held CB radio early on, he kept tabs on chatter that happened among FEDRA, staying one step ahead of their whereabouts. At some point he had stumbled upon private channels used by other survivors, he didn’t talk much about what they discussed with you, it was his realm of expertise and a small thing that was just his, so you didn’t push him to share more than what he was willing to.
It was a year ago he had connected with someone and heard about Jackson. There was an offer for a place for a fresh start, a community of other survivors, somewhere to feel safe and comfortable without fear of being attacked, placed in solitary confinement, killed— or infected. Steve decided it was where you both were meant to be, hashing out a plan and specific route on his tattered map, making sure to stay in constant contact with this person in Jackson as you both traveled.
Venturing further into the resort, you both settled on the lesser marred of the dilapidated cabins.
“I’m gonna check the perimeter, you go on inside— check each room first, I’ll be right in. But remember, if I’m not back in ten minutes, you don’t come looking for me— you wait until morning and you head over that mountain, under no circumstances do you leave that cabin before sunrise.” Steve instructed, his hands on your shoulders reassuring the doubt he can see written all over your face.
“Steve— W-what if, there’s something inside—“ Your voice is barely a whisper, nervousness creeping in as your hands grip onto Steve’s wrists that have moved to cup your face, his thumbs smoothing across the apples of your cheeks.
“We’ve done this a million times before, I know you can do it— I wouldn’t send you in there if I didn’t think you were capable, you’ll be fine. Just think, this is the last time we have to do this. Then it’s you and me, in Jackson, together and safe— ‘kay?” His direct eye contact really drives home the message— together and safe.
“Okay.”
“I love you, go be brave.” Romantic and encouraging as he presses a kiss to your forehead.
“I love you— be safe, please.”
“Always.” He shoots a wink with his mustached smile, a few slow steps backwards then turning to make his way up the backside of the cabin, pulling the butt of his rifle close to his chest, hunched and scanning every inch of the surrounding area.
The cabin would seem warm and inviting if the possibility of a Clicker behind the door wasn’t a high probability.
Armed with the knife Steve insisted you keep on you at all times, your refusal at his request for you to carry a gun, you make your way up the front steps.
Each move was slow and calculated, the wood beneath your boots wobbled and creaked the closer you got to the front door. The handle is cold to the touch as you twist it open, pushing the door with a little extra effort to unstick it from the doorframe.
It’s dark and musty, uninhabited by the living and anything beyond that at first glance. Dust and cobwebs cover every surface, pictures still mounted on the walls slightly hanging uneven. A floral couch with two side chairs still arranged in an inviting way, waiting to be enjoyed during a long conversation. The kitchen was small but large enough that it still would have been possible to whip up a hearty meal over the stove, then gather at the tiny table to enjoy the meal and dessert.
You’re grateful the floor plan is an open space, no immediate threat to you upon entering.
There’s only two doors, which you assume hide a bathroom and a bedroom.
The first door reveals nothing but a sink, toilet and shower-tub combo— you’re looking forward to a hot shower when you get to Jackson.
You stare at the closed remaining door, the handle of the knife twisting in your hand as you prepare yourself, not really feeling like you have it in you to take out anything that might be waiting for you on the other side.
A deep breath in, reaching for the the handle you give it a quick jiggle announcing your presence, twist and a quick swing open— a queen size bed draped in outdated sheets, bedside tables with lamps covered in a layer of dust, a dresser opposite the bed with a giant mirror hanging above it.
Empty.
Relief washing away the dread.
Stepping into the room, you toss your pack and knife onto the dresser before finding a seat at the end of the bed, the mattress shifting under you, the springs groan as you settle into a comfortable spot.
You’re not sure how much time has passed since you entered the house, noting it’s been a while since you had heard or seen anything from Steve, but knowing he likes to be thorough, you’re hoping he makes his way through the front door soon.
The moon has crept into the night sky, shining through the small bedroom window, illuminating the reflection staring back at you.
Sometimes you forget how long it’s been since you’ve seen what you really look like. While it’s you that you’re staring at in the mirror, you feel slightly unrecognizable to yourself— aged by 21 years in every sense, tired and worn down by the state of the world and lack of sleep.
Your fingers lightly trace over your skin, taking in every detail, rediscovering every angle of your appearance— the old characteristics blending into the new ones.
A yawn escapes you, remembering what Steve had said about not leaving, you decide to get yourself comfortable in bed and wait for him.
Kicking your boots off, you crawl up the length of the bed, plopping your head down onto the stack of lumpy pillows, your mind wandering as you run through all the scenarios as to why Steve hasn’t returned yet, debating whether you should go take a look outside or listen and wait for morning— scared of what you might find waiting for you.
Your eyelids begin a heavy blink, struggling to remain open and alert, your breathing evening out as your body relaxes into the mattress, sleep consuming your mind.
Warmth surrounds you, the bed dipping and creaking pulls you from your sleep, immediate panic bursts in your chest as your eyes shoot open, your vision blurred as you seek out the movement of a shadowy figure behind you.
“Hey, hey it’s okay— it’s just me.”
“Steve?!” Turning your body to lay facing him, your hands fisting his shirt, scanning his face for any sign of distress or discomfort. “What took you so long?”
“I’m fine.” Placing a hand over one of yours that’s settled on his chest. “Decided to wait a bit, just to be sure nothin’ was out there— I’m sorry.” His hand moves to the base of your neck, his forehead resting against yours.
“S’okay.”
“No— I’m sorry for callin’ your letters pointless earlier. I know how much they mean to you. I just—“ He releases a heavy sigh, voice quivering as he avoids eye contact with you.
“What— what’s the matter?” You sense there’s something Steve’s not telling you.
“Nothin’s the matter. I just worry about what’s goin’ on in that pretty little head of yours— you shut down on me and I just wish you’d let me help you carry the burden.” His gaze moves back to yours. “Promise me, when we get to Jackson, you don’t let your thoughts weigh you down any longer— promise me you’ll let yourself be happy there.”
“I p-promise.” You say, brushing the blonde strands of hair off of his forehead. “I’m sorry for snapping at you earlier.”
“Nah, I was pushin’ your buttons— I deserved it.” You both laugh at his response.
Steve leans into your space, his lips slotting over yours, it’s angled and slow, his grip on your neck still steady as the kiss begins to deepen. Throwing your leg over his hip, canting against the sturdiness of his thigh, seeking out some sort of friction to relieve the building ache between your legs.
But before things are about progress, Steve’s pulling away from your mouth, slowing the roll of your hips with his hand.
“We should get some sleep— we’ve got close to a 3, maybe 4 hour walk tomorrow, we need to get all the rest we can get.”
“Y-yeah, of course.” Your response is breathy, a slight pang in your chest at his soft rejection, questioning whether you had been too harsh towards him earlier in the day— but your body could use the rest.
Adjusting yourself, you turn away from Steve, his large arm wrapping around and pulling you closer to him. Your back now against his firm chest, each one of your tense muscles slowly relaxing into him and his warmth.
Thoughts of a new start in Jackson flood your mind as you drift off into a deep sleep. A chance at a better life, where Steve and you can settle into normalcy together. Retire from the constant fear and panic of daily survival out in the open. The taste of prosperity and the sense of peace, an almost tangible reality for the two of you.
Steve senses sleep has set in for you, the ease of your regulated breathing paired with your gentle snores. He nestles himself into the crook of your neck, his fingers instinctively migrate to your ring smoothing over the cool metal, his thick whiskers tickle lightly at your skin as he whispers reserved confessions into the balmy. A gentle kiss to your shoulder before allowing himself to fully breathe easy, deciding to keep a watchful eye throughout the night.
“You’ll be happier Genevieve, I promise.”
*
The sun is in its full glory once you both set out on the last stretch of your journey over the mountain.
Steve had been rather short with you all morning, you chalked it up to his tossing and turning all night, his eyes bloodshot, evident in lacking sleep— he had promised everything was fine, so you believed him.
“How much longer do you think we have?” Not really knowing what to talk about with the uneasiness that’s been going on all morning.
“I don’t know, Eve— they guy said it was about a 3 hour walk from the resort. We’ve been walking close to 2 and a half, so we’re probably close.”
“Please don’t call me—“
“Jesus Christ Genevieve! I’m fucking sorry! But you don’t make it easy for me sometimes— I feel like I’m always at a fucking arms length away from you even after 21 fucking years.” Anger shoots from his mouth like bullets, you’re not sure you’ve ever seen him like this, at least never towards you. “It’s a goddamn name! Gen, Eve, Genevieve— they’re all the fucking same!”
“I-I’m sorry.” Tears prick at your eyes, you try your best to not let them fall— you’ll save them for when you’re alone in the safety of your new home.
“Fuck! No, I’m sorry— shit! C’mere.”
Steve pulls you into him, his face hot against your cheek as he holds you close, the button down he’s wearing is drenched in sweat, there’s a slight tremble to the grip he has on you.
“Are you okay?” You pull back to get a better look at him, beads of sweat glisten across his forehead, his cheeks flushed a bright red.
“Yeah, just really fucking tired.”
*CLICK*
“Hands where we can see them! Slowly, no fast movements!” A woman’s voice echoes through the air.
Steve releases you from his arms, both of you slowly turning, arms raised up as you were told.
There’s 5 of them, all on horses with their guns drawn in your direction. The woman seems to be in charge of the group, her horse placed a few feet in front of the others.
“We don’t mean no harm, we’re just trying to get to the settlement just over this mountain. You must be Maria? I was told you might greet us before we got there.” Steve says, keeping his tone even as explains himself.
“Am I supposed to know who you are?” She asks, her expression still unreadable as she waits for Steve to respond.
“No— you don’t, but I was told you would bring us the rest of the way in.”
Maria takes a minute to decide whether she wants to believe Steve or not.
“Scan them.” Looking back at one of the men behind her, nodding to where Steve and you are still standing with your arms raised. “I don’t care who you talked to, you get scanned before you come in.”
The man grabs a device from his saddle pack, then makes his way towards you, the other 3 men’s guns still aimed, fingers hovering over their triggers.
“Lady’s first.” The man states, placing the device on your neck, there’s a small zap to your skin when the scan is administered.
“Green!” He shouts, holding the device up to show the green screen in Maria’s direction.
You breathe a sigh of relief, even though you knew you were fine.
Turning towards Steve, the man places the scanner on Steve’s neck, Steve’s eyes locking with yours as the man presses the designated button to conduct the virus scan.
The man steps back quickly, a flash of red catches your attention.
“RED!” He holds the device up.
The other men direct their aim to Steve, his head hanging low and no sign of resistance to finding out he’s infected.
“Steve! No— Tell them you’re not infected!” Insisting he speak up. “He’s not infected! Scan him again! Please!” You scream at the group, your voice straining as you plead with them to scan Steve again, convinced it was a bad read.
“Please!! Scan him—“
“Genevieve— it’s not wrong.” Steve says.
You turn to him, chest heaving and your throat burning from yelling, confused by what he’s saying.
“What? What do you mean it’s not wrong? You’re not infected Steve— you’re just tired, they need to scan you again!”
“I was bit.”
You can feel the blood drain from your face as the words leave his mouth. Your brain takes a moment to register what he had said.
Bit.
Infected.
“No— no! No, no no!”
“Genevieve—“
“W-when?”
“Last night, there was a runner that came out of one of the other cabins—“
Steve’s confession hits you like a ton of bricks in slow motion. You hate it and don’t want to believe a single thing he’s saying, because the reality is that this is where it ends for him— for you.
The tears burn as they begin to stream down your face.
“You didn’t say anything though—“
“I needed to get you here— I needed you to be safe.”
Your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath, throwing yourself at him, anchoring your arms around his neck.
“No! I can’t do this without you— I can’t lose you too!”
“Yes, you can. You’re the bravest person I’ve known in a long time. You’re going to get there and you’re going to meet new people and you will be able to help out because that’s what you love— you love helping people and I love that about you. This is your chance to start over, to be happy— do that for me?” His hands cup your face so he can look at you, his eyes filled with tears as well. “Do me a favor, write me one of your letters— I want to know everything.”
You nod, unable to speak, the lump in your throat growing as your remaining time together dwindles away.
“I love you, Genevieve.” His words muffled against your skin, leaving one last kiss on your forehead.
“I love you, too.” You breathe out, your eyes closed savoring his soft touch one last time.
“How long?” Maria asks Steve.
“Probably ‘nother hour left, give or take.”
“Alright Genevieve— you’re riding with me, hand your pack to one of my men. Andrew, you hang back with Steve— you know what to do.” Maria orders everyone.
Wiping your tears before placing a kiss to Steve’s cheek, then turning to where Maria is waiting for you, handing your pack to one of her men. Maria leans down to grab onto your arm, as you hoist yourself up onto the backside of the horse.
“Let’s head back.” Maria says, pulling the reins up and to one side to signal the horse to turn around, a click of her tongue has the horse moving forward in the direction of the settlement.
You can’t bear to look back in Steve’s direction, not trusting yourself to not run back to him.
Leaving him and knowing his fate is like reliving the same pain you endured 21 years ago. The outbreak takes everything from you for a second time.
Your world shatters, crumbling as the horse carries you further and further from him.
*BANG*
The sound ricochets out over the valley, your heart sinks as a new wave of tears silently fall.
*
You don’t remember the entire ride to the settlement or how you ended up on the porch of a two story house.
Maria had mentioned putting you up in her brother-in-law's converted garage, a small studio bedroom where those new to the settlement would stay while their permanent residence were being cleaned and prepped. She said it wasn’t anything special and you’d have to use the main houses kitchen and bathroom, but you’d have your own space in a few days— so interacting with a few strangers was the least you could do for the hospitality.
You honestly didn’t care where she put you for the time being, the stables would have been enough, you just wanted to be alone.
Glancing over your shoulder you see others moving about freely, children running about in the open, a stark contrast between what you had been so used to.
There’s rows and rows of homes, a small town-like area, a community garden— this place was everything that Steve had described to you, he would have loved it.
The opening of the front door pulls you back to the front porch where you’re standing with Maria.
“We’ve got a newcomer, she’s going to stay here until we get a room ready down the street.” Maria explained to the young girl who is glaring at you.
“Why do you keep bringing them here? This isn’t a shelter— can’t she stay somewhere else?”
“No, she can’t. This is Ellie, her bark is worse than her bite— she’ll grow on you. Ellie, this is Genevieve let’s let her get comfortable and situated— she just lost whom I’m assuming was her husband, so please make her feel welcomed.” Maria coerses Ellie into letting you stay, but you don’t miss the eye rolling throw your way.
The home is spacious and inviting, you decide it’s far more comfortable than the stables would have been.
“Ellie, can you grab Genevieve a glass of water please.” It’s more of a demand than an ask. “Here Genevieve, have a seat here at the table. I’m sure Ellie can make you something to eat if you’re hungry too.”
“So now we’re a shelter and we have room service? Her legs don’t seem broken to me—.”
“Ellie, glass of water!”
The girl grunts something under her breath as she follows through with getting you water, you settle into a chair and try to not let the unwelcome feeling that’s been looming over you since you set foot in the house add to the pain that is still radiating through you.
You wipe a few tears you hadn’t realized had fallen, a new wave of emotions hitting you, another moment of realization of Steve not being here with you like you had both talked about.
“Is there anything else I can get you Genevieve?” Maria cautiously places a hand on your shoulder, you take it as her way of apologizing for your loss.
“Umm, just my bag would be great and a shower would be nice.” You sniffle, ready to lock yourself away for the day, not wanting to be forced to have unwanted conversations with a teenager who already hates your new presence.
“I’ll go grab your bag from the stables, then you can start getting settled.” She gives your shoulder a light squeeze before turning for the front door. “Ellie, be nice.”
A glass of water is placed in front of you, a few cubes of ice float around the clear liquid. You don’t even remember the last time you had enjoyed an ice cold drink.
Ellie situates herself in the chair across from you, looking as if she wants to say something.
“So— your husband is dead?” 14 years old and a great conversationalist.
“No— y-yes.” Your chest aches at the mention of ‘your husband.’
“Well, that’s not confusing. So, did you watch him die?”
“Hmm?”
“Your husband, did you watch your husband die?” She asks again.
“N-no.”
“I’m all out of questions then.” She slinks back into her chair.
You stare at the ice, almost half the size it was when it was placed in front of you. Wishing you could slowly melt away, become the nothingness you feel like.
The front door swings open and closes with a gentle click, the clunking sound of boots makes the presence of whoever stepped into the house known.
“Hey kid, sorry I’m late. Tommy wanted to get drinks after our patrol.”
A deep husky voice permeates the room, its thick syrupy tone seeps into every little crevice of your memory, its familiarity prompting the goosebumps to form across your body.
“I didn’t know we were having guests— this a new friend of yours?” He asks, his foot step getting closer to where you're still seated at the table, your back turned to him.
“Fuck no! It’s one of Maria’s strays. Said she has to stay here until her room is available— which is bullshit if you ask me!” She spouts off, her annoyance very apparent.
“Ellie, manners!” He grits out.
You lift yourself from the chair, steadying your weak state on the table and chair as you turn in his direction.
Your heart nearly stops the moment your eyes land on him— a ruggedness to him, his soft brown eyes filled with a darkness that comes with loss and sorrow, his dark locks and beard sprinkled with tuffs of gray, an overall hardness about him that hides his true self.
“Joel?” Your eyes wide and filled with more tears, the name is barely a whisper as it falls into the air.
“Eve?” A name he never thought he would say again.
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reading wrap up 2022 GO
ok so my goal this year was to read 100 books and then i went ahead and read 109. and if i read the locked tomb series three times through that's no one's business but mine <3
italics are queer, bold are amazing, bold italics are queer and amazing
jan:
middlesex - jeffrey eugenides
the mountains sing - nguyên phan qué mai
the vegetarian - han kang
the galaxy and the ground within - becky chambers
to be taught, if fortunate - becky chambers
when we were orphans - kazuo ishiguro
americanah - chimamanda ngozi adichie
h of h playbook - anne carson
klara and the sun - kazuo ishiguro
the space between worlds - micaiah johnson
feb:
normal people - sally rooney
circe - madeline miller
blood of elves - andrzej sapkowski
gideon the ninth - tamsyn muir
time of contempt - andrzej sapkowski
baptism of fire - andrzej sapkowski
march:
the tower of the swallow - andrzej sapkowski
lady of the lake - andrzej sapkowski
harrow the ninth - tamsyn muir
the last wish - andrzej sapkowski
we should all be feminists - chimamanda ngozi adichie
a memory called empire - arkady martine
burnt sugar - avni doshi
a psalm for the wild built - becky chambers
april:
the alchemist - paul coelho
sword of destiny - andrzej sapkowski
oranges are not the only fruit - jeanette winterson
the colour purple - alice walker
the midnight library - matt haig
where the crawdads sing - delia owens
10 minutes 38 seconds in this strange world - elif shafak
the discomfort of evening - marieke lucas rijneveld
crying in h mart - michelle zauner
my year of rest and relaxation - ottessa moshfegh
the shadow king - maaza mengiste
the virgin suicides - jeffrey eugenides
sapiens - yuval noah harari
the manningtree witches - a. k. blakemore
may:
parable of the sower - octavia butler
hot milk - deborah levy
an unkindness of ghosts - rivers solomon
the water dancer - ta-nehisi coates
pure colour - sheila heti
this is how you lose the time war - amal el-mohtar & max gladstone
five little indians - michelle good
june:
indian horse - richard wagamese
ducks, newburyport - lucy ellmann
the vanishing half - brit bennett
medicine walk - richard wagamese
crier's war - nina varela
a quality of light - richard wagamese
after the quake - haruki murakami
death in her hands - ottessa moshfegh
the school for good mothers - jessamine chan
bluets - maggie nelson
of women and salt - gabriela garcia
lapvona - ottessa moshfegh
mcglue - ottessa moshfegh
songbirds - christy lefteri
july:
to paradise - hanya yanagihara
sankofa - chibundu onuzo
the argonauts - maggie nelson
jane: a murder - maggie nelson
eileen - ottessa moshfegh
iron widow - xiran jay zhao
homesick for another world - ottessa moshfegh
a desolation called peace - arkady martine
the art of cruelty: a reckoning - maggie nelson
the witch's heart - genevieve gornichec
dune - frank herbert
aug:
never let me go - kazuo ishiguro
the island of missing trees - elif shafak
the marriage plot - jeffrey eugenides
almond - won-pyung sohn
all over creation - ruth ozeki
the water cure - sophie mackintosh
drive your plow over the bones of the dead - olga tokarczuk
sep:
the remains of the day - kazuo ishiguro
the blind assassin - margaret atwood
go set a watchman - harper lee
a pale view of hills - kazuo ishiguro
seven fallen feathers - tanya talaga
an artist of the floating world - kazuo ishiguro
the atlas six - olivie blake
the inconvenient indian - thomas king
a tale for the time being - ruth ozeki
ru - kim thuy
split tooth - tanya tagaq
wintering - katherine may
nomad century - gaia vince
dune messiah - frank herbert
the unbearable lightness of being - milan kundera
oct:
nona the ninth - tamsyn muir
indians on vacation - thomas king
severance - ling ma
nocturnes - kazuo ishiguro
nona the ninth - tamsyn muir
a prayer for the crown-shy - becky chambers
nov:
gideon the ninth - tamsyn muir
harrow the ninth - tamsyn muir
nona the ninth - tamsyn muir
embers - richard wagamese
dec:
starlight - richard wagamese
the buried giant - kazuo ishiguro
autobiography of red - anne carson
notes on grief - chimamanda ngozi adichie
cloud cuckoo land - anthony doerr
on fire: the burning case for a green new deal - naomi klein
sufferance - thomas king
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