It’s time to report on the books I read in the third quarter of 2025. A moment I knew would come — yet still dread — is finally here too: I only managed to read two books in the past three months...I have my excuses: new job, copious freelance work, inability to focus, inability to find something interesting, laziness...
Part of the problem is also the fact that I tend to enjoy non-fiction more, which doesn’t always make reading the most relaxing activity, regardless of how interesting or captivating it may be. Often, it feels burdensome when I’m delving deep into someone’s research of a woman’s life overshadowed by her husband, or into a murder case inspired by real-life events. As much as I decide to pick up this genre, it does make it harder to digest, especially if I try to do it quickly.
I enjoy non-fiction because it feels easier to grasp, and I’m sure some part of me finds it more “productive” than fiction. But then we end up with what we have here today — two books read in three months. Alas, I made my choice to report on my reading at the end of each quarter, and so here we are.
Penance by Eliza Clark
Clark’s ability to pull together so many threads, tangle them, and then untangle them again is remarkable. As someone who has tried (or is trying) to write a mystery/crime novel herself, I can really appreciate the timeline, pacing, and dot-connections that Penance rounds out. Not only are the characters well-defined, with traits and mannerisms grounded in reality and current pop culture, but the writing itself makes it difficult to remember that the story isn’t true, which, to me, is a great indicator of strong crime writing.
As a true-crime watcher, I felt exposed when the chapters began delving into Violet’s thinking. It became apparent to me that Clark must have shared some of those tendencies herself to be able to articulate Violet’s inner world so vividly. I also think her descriptions of teenage girls’ social lives are presented with scarily accurate dialogue, digging deep into that immaturity-ridden hatred that fuels their actions.
It’s also a book that, whenever I’ve spoken to anyone about it, has always been met with the same reaction: how great it was. And I think that’s because it truly is so difficult to come out of a crime book feeling satisfied — much like its parallels with real-life cases, where justice never feels achieved, only arrived at. With Penance, the reader leaves knowing that justice has not been fully achieved, but that what could be done has been. Additionally, the layer of the unreliable narrator/journalistic POV adds an interesting element of constructed truths and personal influences that shape the story being told.
Altogether, I think the book replicates the feeling of being a jury member, where you’re presented with facts (to some extent), but also the POVs of all involved parties. At the same time, you’re constantly aware of inaccuracies in reporting and personal influences, and so you’re left to make a decision, even if you don’t fully agree with it or believe there’s a simple outcome.
I think part of me doesn’t want to accept that her life turned out the way it did, because from all accounts (in the book), she seemed destined for so much more than being just a wife. Not that it’s a small feat, but it’s clear it wasn’t meant to be her defining trait. I think it scares me to know that possibility still lies out there for me, too. It feels all too easy, all too accessible, to give up on your dreams as a writer, as a woman. There’s always something else you could be doing with your life — having kids, getting married, taking care of a home. These things aren’t out of the question for me either, and so I can’t help but wonder: what factor(s) will it be that lead me to the same fate?
If a woman of such intelligence could make the choices Eileen did and still end up alone on her deathbed, what hope is there for the rest of us — women who fear her fate but are not so far from it? What one decision am I going to make that will continue me on a downward path of similar mistakes, until I’m buried under the names of those far greater than I, simply because of the inherent privileges they might benefit from — be it whiteness (not necessarily addressed in the book) or maleness?
This is far from a book review, but I cannot help becoming attached to the idea of Eileen, however inaccurately she may have been portrayed — and will continue to be portrayed — because that in itself speaks to the unimportance women are dealt with. I will continue to be haunted by the decisions she seemingly made, in the fear that one day my story could end up the same, or worse, reimagined in a way that couldn’t be further from the truth, yet still delivered.
It’s not so much a criticism of Funder — I think she did the extraordinary work of spending time and resources to uncover the life of Eileen as separate from Orwell as possible — but more a haunting reminder of the loose grasp we all have on our stories, and how easily they can be manipulated with time. Whether that’s because of lost resources and forgotten accounts, or invented and constructed ones, the result is the same: the truth becomes fragile, and our lives become stories told through someone else’s lens.
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That concludes my reads for July, August, and September. Can’t believe there is just one more to go — what a speedy year!
Also, I’ve been thinking about starting a bi-monthly newsletter...? Ideally, I’d love to do it bi-weekly and update subscribers with all the freelance work I’ve been doing, any media outings I’ve been on, etc. But I don’t know how consistent I can be with that when I keep flip-flopping between transparency and a mysterious persona, and over-productivity and laziness. We’ll see...
Until next time, for the final instalment of this quarterly series for 2025!
