Someone You Can Build a Nest In by John Wiswell. Surprisingly cozy and romantic for a monster story. All I wanted to do while reading it was wrap myself in blankets and consume hot liquids like Shesheshen emerging from winter hibernation.
Exile and Pride: Disability, Queerness, and Liberation by Eli Clare is an older book–it came out in 1999, and has been reissued a few times with additional author notes and material from contributors. It is a lovely and reflective read, weaving together the author’s lived experience of disability, queerness, and environmental connection as well as disconnection.
I have not quite finished Saltcrop by Yume Kitasei, which isn’t absorbing my attention as well as the author’s locked room mystery The Deep Sky. This book takes place in a possible climate future where crop blight is barely held in bay by an ag-tech product that causes mutations and illness from prolonged exposure; there’s a weeks-long sea voyage, corporate espionage, and pirates, so it possibly suffers from too much going on. Still, the story has been worth a bit of slogging here and there.
Some short prose and poems I liked:
Ledge (ars poetica) (love poem) (true story) by Amorak Huey
Puzzle by Randall Mann
Elsewhere
Some tough questions to help you reflect on the year
I love critical reviews. I wish there weren’t so many desperately awful political memoirs this year, but there’s still pleasure in reading a well-crafted takedown.
I also love mess: As a legal battle looms, Philadelphia Art Museum staffers head into the new year with tentative hope
The Americans Who Saw All This Coming—but Were Ignored and Maligned
AI in the news:
Microsoft’s Nadella: AI needs ‘social permission’ to consume so much energy (Politico, December 1, 2025)
AI makes farming more accessible; it’s also ruining everything (Men Yell At Me, December 11, 2025)
Trump Signs Executive Order That Threatens to Punish States for Passing AI Laws (Wired, December 11, 2025)
AI “Companion Bots” Actually Run by Exploited Kenyans, Worker Claims (Futurusm, December 12, 2025)
You’re Thinking About AI and Water All Wrong (Wired, December 12, 2025)
Generative AI hype distracts us from AI’s more important breakthroughs (MIT Technology Review, December 15, 2025)
How Your Private ChatGPT And Gemini Chats Are ‘Sold For Profit’ (Forbes, December 15, 2025)
In 2026, America needs an anti-AI party (Philadelphia Inquirer/Will Bunch Newsletter, December 16, 2025)
AI Is Inventing Academic Papers That Don’t Exist — And They’re Being Cited in Real Journals (Rolling Stone, December 17, 2025)
This is a longer but particularly juicy and incisive read from Cory Doctorow: The Reverse-Centaur’s Guide to Criticizing AI (Pluralistic, December 5, 2025)
Minutiae
December can so often be measured in social gatherings. One weekend, I went to New Jersey and watched my college BFF and his young daughter perform in a rather good adaptation of A Christmas Carol. I got home, set down my bags, and went out to cackle through Wake Up Dead Man in theaters. The next weekend, I went to see the Surrealists exhibition at the art museum. My friends had a Powerpoint party and gave one another presentations on things like Animorphs and how k-pop groups are formed. It snowed so much that that the literary fundraiser I planned to volunteer at was cancelled, so I enjoyed one quiet night in. The following week, I went to campus for my work’s holiday party one day and to the dance studio for our annual Nutcracker party the next. The latter stressed me out–I didn’t feel that I knew the choreography well–but in the end, it was obviously fine, and then we all opened white elephant gifts and made each other laugh. Then it was time to fly to Memphis for Christmas. I spent almost a week there, getting conveyor belt sushi and visiting the lantern festival at the zoo and playing games. When I came home, I had a couple of days to clean my house before having friends over for New Year’s Day. We snuck in a movie outing to see Hamnet, which made us all cry our faces off. By the end, I felt wrung out like a tea towel, and the early evening New Year’s fireworks were going off over Old City as we left the theater.
It has been busy and joyful and exhausting, and at the same time, I’ve been seeing some strides in my personal projects. I finally lined up two readers for my thesis and began making a plan for spring. I met with several prospective partners for the environmental writing project I am collaborating on, and we have started filling out our schedule for the fall, and we have a website now, so you can see how things develop.
Buried Creek Collective
For 2025, I set no intention as I had done in past years. Instead, I had lots of resolutions. Some of them I was able to realize: I paid off a lingering debt, went on a writing retreat. Some of them I abandoned; the tumultuous political and economic climate suggested hunkering down rather than seeking out a new residence or new job. Others will need a little more time to develop–namely, my thesis. But despite all the anxiety and sadness, 2025 brought surprising moments of joy and connection. I adopted a fantastically friendly little orange cat. I did things that scared me–went on 10-mile-long walks along the city’s perimeter, where there is unpredictable access to plumbing; began learning to go en pointe in ballet.
I had no plans to set an intention for 2026; I have many plans, many projects, and much to look forward to even with all the uncertainty. But as I type this, a word came to me: trust. I can trust myself to follow through. I can trust the partnerships and friendships I’ve made. I can trust the process and not rush myself through my creative work. And when I am not sure what to do next, I can look toward people and sources I trust for guidance. That’s as good a place to start as any.
Sara Davis 