February is the month of love, apparently, which means I’ve decided to lean fully into sad love. Devastating love. Love that ruins you a little and then politely leaves you staring at the wall afterward. For February 2026, the theme is sad love stories, and honestly? I’m emotionally prepared. (I think.) This month, I’m diving into heartbreak, impossible choices, and love that sticks with you long after the last page.
First up is Giovanni’s Room by James Baldwin, which is a reread for me, though I can’t even remember the last time I read it. Baldwin writes longing like it’s a physical space, raw and aching, and the story still manages to hit hard. David’s struggle with identity, desire, and societal expectations makes every choice feel heavy, and every moment with Giovanni feels electric and tragic. Returning to it now, it’s impossible not to feel both grief and awe at how Baldwin captures love as something beautiful and impossible all at once.
Next is The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller, another reread, and I honestly can’t believe it’s been over three years since I last opened it. The story of Achilles and Patroclus is epic in every sense: love that’s tender, doomed, and heroic. Re-reading it during the season of hearts and roses feels especially cruel, because you know the ending, but the journey is breathtaking—the humor, the small kindnesses, the slow-burning intimacy—and Miller’s writing just pierces straight to the chest every single time.
And finally, I’m finishing Lessons in Chemistry by Bonnie Garmus. This one got pushed back from December/January, but I’m ready now. Elizabeth Zott’s story isn’t a traditional sad love story—it’s heartbreaking, funny, and inspiring all at once. Where my book club left off is such a sad part that I can’t wait to see how she continues to navigate love, life, and the impossible expectations placed on her. I might finish it with the book club… or without them. Either way, I’m ready to keep going.
On top of these reads, I’m setting a big goal for 2026: 30 books. Totally doable, right? Last year I ended up with 20—15 on Kindle, 5 physical—and this year I’ve got my library card back, which means more physical books, and I’m excited to finally include audiobooks too. I’m ready to mix it up, try new formats, and maybe cry a little on walks while listening to heartbreaks instead of just reading them.
So that’s February: rereads, heartbreak, and stories about loving deeply—even when it hurts, even when it’s complicated, even when you know exactly what’s coming. Join me if you want. Or don’t. I’ll be over here crying quietly, turning pages, and letting the books do the heartbreaking for me.
