Month: January 2026

The Love Haters

Posted on by Wendy Kennar

I am a Katherine Center fan.

(In case you missed any of them, I’m including links to the posts I have written, featuring some of her other novels including The Rom-Commers, Hello Stranger, The Bodyguard, and What You Wish For.)

I have heard Katherine Center describe her own books as somewhat of a crossover of genres — women’s fiction and a rom-com. Readers will absolutely get their HEA (happily ever after) at the end of the story. But until we get there, readers will spend about 300 pages with characters that seem like real people. Characters we root for. Characters that are relatable. Characters that face challenges, that may get knocked down, but will always get back up.

(Side note – I’m not a fan of the “women’s fiction” label. I don’t remember hearing or seeing anything called “men’s fiction.”)

I finished reading Katherine Center’s 2025 novel, The Love Haters, and I loved it. Let me put it this way — I finished reading, and thought about starting the book all over again. (I didn’t.) But it’s like when you hear a favorite song, and once it stops, you just want to play it again. That’s how good this book was.

The book is so pretty!

Here are some of my favorite passages, some of the passages that made me pause and take note:

“She paged through to the right spot and started rereading: ‘The main strategy is just to notice what your partner is getting right.’ She peered at me, thinking. ‘Maybe you can just work on noticing what your body is getting right. Things you like about it. You do have some of those, right?’
“Things I liked about my body? What an odd thought.” 

“‘Don’t be one of those women who insists on thinking she’s ugly,’ she said.
“‘I don’t think I’m ugly,’ I stated. Then, much quieter and possibly hoping not even to be heard, I followed that with: ‘But other people might?’
“Beanie was incredulous. ‘What?!’
“I wasn’t passing her feminist muster.”
(This conversation between our main character, Katie, and her cousin and best friend, Beanie, goes on for a few pages. Honestly, their whole conversation was so very relatable, but you really just have to read it yourself. It starts on page 47.)

“If I’m really honest … if I truly think about it… I think it was just the idea that he — or, honestly, anybody — might see me the way my stepmother had. That he might encounter me out in the open, so exposed, with so little left to the imagination… and find me…unappealing. 
“Or any of a whole tasting plate of other words starting with un: Unattractive. Uninviting. Unsalvageable. Unpleasant. Unacceptable. Unloveable.
“This was it. This was the phobia.
“Being exposed, in plain daylight, with nowhere to hide — and then being … rejected. By anyone. Even a stranger.”

“The helicopters really were shiny — and so much bigger than when you see them motoring across the sky in the distance. The hangar really was spotlessly clean. And the rotors really were enormous — almost prehistoric in scale. I felt an actual, honest-to-god feeling of awe as I beheld them in that hangar.
“It was unexpectedly moving.
“It felt like a shrine to all the best parts of humanity.” 

“‘No one’s born fearless,’ Rue said. ‘You have to earn it.’ Then she added, gesturing at the swimsuit dangling from my hand, ‘Every time you have to be brave, you get to be a little braver next time. That’s what life is for.’
“‘I don’t think I want to be brave,’ I said.
“‘I know.’ Her face was all sympathy. ‘That’s why you keep hiding.’
“What can I say? She had me.
“‘But I’ll tell you a secret,’ she said. ‘It doesn’t matter what anybody thinks if you’re having fun. And all the fun is in color.’
“I tried that idea on for size.
“‘My wish for you,’ Rue went on, ‘is a vibrant, bright, glorious life. That’s why I keep bringing you these vibrant, bright, glorious swimsuits.’” 

“And then she would insist, very gently, that I wasn’t stuck inside of my body. It wasn’t some prison my soul was caged in. The two things were — and only ever had been — one thing. I was it, and it was me. We were the same.
“It was a simple truth: I couldn’t abandon myself.
“And as much as that was a curse, it was also a blessing.” 

“He paused, just inches away now, and took in the sight of me. ‘It’s just a fact. It’s just reality. You’re just … You’re like a human hot-fudge sundae or something.’” 


“I just suddenly understood in a whole new, sun-breaking-through-the-clouds way that even if we do eternally need and long and want to be seen … maybe the most important eyes doing the looking are our own.”

“‘You’re not not forgettable,’ Hutch said then, like I was being obtuse. ‘You’re unforgettable.’
“I held my breath at that.
“Hutch went on. ‘You’re a TV jingle you never wanted to learn, but can’t erase. You’re a puzzle that can’t be solved — or a question that can’t be answered — or a dream you wake up from that feels like it really happened. But it didn’t happen. And it can’t happen. Because that’s not how dreams work.’” 

“But that didn’t change the fact that I was in love with him.
“The way I was missing him. The way I couldn’t stop longing for him. The way my thoughts, and my heart, and my entire body were completely capsized by everything that had just happened … there was no other explanation. Based on misery alone, it just had to be love.”

“We’re here to be alive. To keep going. To find all kinds of ways to thrive anyway. We’re here to feel it all. To love and cry and love some more.
“We’re here to rescue ourselves — and everybody else — in every way that we can.”

And from the Author’s Note at the end of the book:

“What I’m saying is, we can train our own eyes to look with kindness, and pay attention to what’s beautiful, and focus on what’s right instead of what’s wrong.
“That’s how you fall in love — and stay in love — with anyone, including yourself: see the best in that person and enjoy the hell out of it as often as you can.” 

Friends, have you read The Love Haters? Or, any of Katherine Center’s novels? By the way, her 2026 novel, The Shippers, sounds completely delightful and will be published in May.

Please note: I am including a link to buy the book that I’m highlighting this week. If you use my link, I do make a small commission on your purchase at no additional cost to you. I am working with Bookshop.org which also sends a portion of the profit to support local, independent bookstores.

Sharing

Posted on by Wendy Kennar
Many people live with invisible illness(es). Many people look "fine" on the outside.

Last week, an acquaintance asked me about my chronic illness. We had recently started following each other on Instagram, and a few days after she started liking my posts, we bumped into each other in person. 

(Side note – You do follow me on Instagram. Right? I hope you do!
@wendykennar
You follow me, and then I will follow you back. Let’s support each other!)

Back to last week. 

J told me she had seen some of my posts. 

“You talk about pain, but what is it? What do you have?” she asked.

“It’s an autoimmune disease,” I began.

“Which one?” she asked. 

So I told J about my UCTD (Undifferentiated Connective Tissue Disease). I told her some days, and some parts of days, are much worse than others. I told her it was difficult to diagnose. 

“And that makes it hard to treat,” she said.

I looked at her. “Exactly,” I said.

“My sister has chronic fatigue syndrome,” J told me. 

“Oh my goodness, that’s awful,” I said. And it is. (If you don’t know about CFS, you can click here to read an article from the Mayo Clinic.)

“When my sister is in a flare, she says her bones hurt,” J said.

“But I would have never known you had anything. I couldn’t tell,” she said.

“That’s the way it works, right? I’m sure it’s the same for your sister,” I said. “I’m sure most of the time no one would suspect she lives with a condition that sometimes makes it impossible to leave her bed.”

J seemed surprised when I told her I own a wheelchair and use it from time to time. She seemed shocked when I told her I first became ill when my now-almost-eighteen-year-old son was two years old. But how would she have known? I don’t just go up to people and start talking about my autoimmune disease. And as those of you living with invisible illnesses know too well, spoonies have a lot of practice looking “fine,” as we’re out in the world, doing our best to go about our days and live our lives the best we can. 

Now here’s the part I’m most proud of, I didn’t end the conversation there. Friends, I then did something I don’t ordinarily do. I shared something else, something super important to me.

“I’m actually writing a book about living with an invisible illness,” I told J.

J nodded. “To explain about your experience?” 

“Yes, and more than that, to help others see that you can’t always tell what someone is going through simply by looking at them. Being sick has taught me that everyone is dealing with something. Everyone lives with some sort of pain.”

It might not seem like a lot, but for me, that was a big step. I’m not great at self-promotion, of talking about myself, my writing, and my writing goals. But I’m trying to improve on that and get more comfortable talking and sharing about my writing. After all, my writing is a huge part of who I am and what I do. And the truth is I don’t just want to write. And I don’t just want to be published. I also, most definitely, want to be read.

How about you, friends? Do you find it difficult to talk with others about your creative work? How do you go about sharing your writing (or whatever it is that you create)?

The Eight Heartbreaks of Hanukkah

Posted on by Wendy Kennar

The last novel I read in 2025 was The Eight Heartbreaks of Hanukkah by Jean Meltzer. If you have been reading my blog for a while, you may remember I have written about each of Jean Meltzer’s four previous novels. (Click here to read my post about Ms. Meltzer’s fourth novel, Magical Meet Cute. That post includes links to my posts on each of Ms. Meltzer’s other novels.)

The Eight Heartbreaks of Hanukkah definitely has A Christmas Carol-feeling to it. And, it’s a rom-com. But, it’s so much more. 

Ms. Meltzer has a wonderful way of writing fun-to-read novels that also include serious, heavy topics. In fact, the letter to the reader at the beginning of the book acts as a gentle warning:

“This book contains depictions of chronic illness and disability, including migraines, as well as discussions on divorce, grief, infertility, pregnancy loss, termination for medical reasons, abortion, and fetal anomalies.”

I applaud Ms. Meltzer and the mindful way she goes about making sure her books offer diverse representation. Our main character, Evelyn Schwartz, is a Jewish woman who lives with chronic migraines. And, Evelyn’s sister-in-law (her husband’s sister) lives with Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome (EDS). Near the end of the letter to the reader, she wrote: “I always say that there is no greater honor as an author than being a voice for the voiceless.”

This week I’m sharing some of my favorite passages from The Eight Heartbreaks of Hanukkah:

“‘But that’s the funny thing about mistakes, right?’ she asked him directly. ‘Without them, we don’t grow. So you have to grow through it. All the good. All the bad. The blunder years. The heartbreaks. Because otherwise, how do you learn, how you do you change, how do you find the people and things worth your time … or not?’”

“And he was so patient. He didn’t tell her that she was being hysterical. He didn’t ask her to bottle it up so they could get back to the wedding ceremony and all the guests that were waiting. He let her cry. Somehow, he found a way to be both her rock and her security blanket, until finally, she found the wherewithal to go back inside.” 

“He reached over and took her hand. Grief was such a powerful force. It twisted your mind, filled you with sorrow. It made you desperate to believe that your memories could be turned back into reality. But there couldn’t be grief without love.” 

“He raised one eyebrow at his sister. ‘How did you get so wise?’
“She smirked. ‘Lifelong disability and pain, and because every cloud has a silver lining. My silver lining is you, being your big sister. Bossing you around, telling you what to do, sharing my knowledge as an elder. It’s hard to be this wise and beautiful.’”

“‘And maybe that’s my takeaway for this Hanukkah. For this entire experience. The world is filled with heartbreaks. We lose the people we love, we make mistakes, we hurt each other… sometimes we even do unforgivable things. But despite all the pain and grief of life, there can still be miracles. Magic can happen. Ghosts can show up, enemies can make amends —‘
“‘And two people who have fallen apart can fall in love again.’” 

“They returned to kissing. Their hands tore at each other, hungry and passionate, as they made their way to the bedroom. And it felt right. He felt right. Like past, present and future merging together — there was hope beyond the grand finale.
“For love, it turned out, was the greatest miracle of all.”

And from the author’s note at the back of the book: “I wrote this story because I have always written books where things that are not seen are made visible.”

Please note: I am including a link to buy the book that I’m highlighting this week. If you use my link, I do make a small commission on your purchase at no additional cost to you. I am working with Bookshop.org which also sends a portion of the profit to support local, independent bookstores.


My Year in Books

Posted on by Wendy Kennar

I didn’t achieve my Goodreads Reading Challenge for 2025. 

Actually, I didn’t achieve my Goodreads Reading Challenge for 2024, either. When I realized how far off the mark I was (in terms of the number of books I had hoped to read and the number of books I actually read), I lowered my goal for 2025. Lowered it a lot. 

The goal for 2025 was to read 24 books. And I missed it by 3 books.

I admit – on December 31st, I did think of going into my almost-eighteen-year-old son’s closet and finding some of our favorite picture books from when he was a little guy. I could have easily read three more books. I know I would have liked reading those books.

I could have read the 24 books and achieved my goal. But that felt like cheating. 

All this made me pause and wonder if I should bother signing up for the 2026 Goodreads Reading Challenge. Why did I voluntarily sign up for the Goodreads challenge each year? What did I hope to gain from it? 

Part of me really likes the end-of-the-year statistics, and the fact that I don’t have to keep track of the numbers. Goodreads does that for me. 

For example, in 2025:

– I read over 5,000 pages. 

– The shortest book was Kelly Esparza’s A Spoonie’s Guide to Self-Acceptance. 

– The longest book was Jean Meltzer’s Magical Meet Cute.

– I reviewed more books, recognizing me as a Top 15% Reviewer.

– My top genres included romance and memoir.

And I realized something. With or without the Goodreads Reading Challenge, I would continue to buy and read books. I would enjoy talking with friends about books. I would continue to blog about the books I read. 

Because that’s who I am. I’m a reader. 

Which is also the reason why I didn’t achieve my goal. I read much more than the books listed on Goodreads. I have three magazine subscriptions (Writer’s Digest, Poets & Writers, and Real Simple. My mom and I share the Real Simple). I have subscribed to many blogs and Substacks, and do my best to read and like and comment. And I actually read the books; I don’t listen to audio books. 

So this year, I have once again set my goal for 24 books. 

And whether or not I achieve my goal isn’t the point. For me, it’s the feeling of being in community with other booklovers. It’s the opportunity to discover new books and new authors. It’s the excitement that comes from finally reading a book I’ve been eagerly anticipating. And, it’s the belief that every book I read brings me a little bit closer to achieving my ultimate goal — being the author of my own book and getting my book into the hands of readers. 

Please note: I am including a link to buy the books mentioned this week. If you use my link, I do make a small commission on your purchase at no additional cost to you. I am working with Bookshop.org which also sends a portion of the profit to support local, independent bookstores.