Putting the 爱 in A.I.: The A.I. Who Loved Me, by Alyssa Cole

Cross-posting this from Goodreads, because once you write a few hundred words on another website, you kind of feel like you should harvest it back to your own blog, no? That’s what the insecure hustle voice in my head says anyway, as racking up word counts here on my blog matter to me for some reason. And, to be perfectly honest, it’s been a long time since I actually finished a book, and that feels worth noteworthy in its own way. Call it pandemic blues and the Sisyphean nature of parenting toddlers everyday that combine to make one feel horribly…unproductive, as a person. Being a human is complicated, and with that I will transition to this human/AI love story review.

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Crime, crime, kids, comedy, repeat

I don’t know if other people line up their reading material thematically or order their TBR shelves with the conscientiousness of a college semester syllabus, but I definitely…do not. My next book just comes to me by way of my own emotional oujia board, which means sometimes it’s very similar books in a row and other times there’s intense tone and subject whiplash. So, take my last handful of reads going back to around Thanksgiving. This is a rambly catchup post, so you should probably know that before reading on.

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The to do list that never shortens. She said book reviews?

This actual website may not be very long in the tooth, but I’ve been off and on long-form blogging sites, whether my own domain or a Livejournal clone or somesuch, for decades. And yet this is something I’ve struggled with for years as my brain has spent many (formative?) years fitting itself into 120 or 240 characters on Twitter, or whatever the aesthetic seems to dictate on Facebook: what to write about and, by extension, what not to write about.

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