There’s something about the first of October that makes me want to reorganise my entire reading life. The spring air does that—makes everything feel possible again, including that towering TBR pile I’ve been ignoring since March.

This year’s spring reading list leans heavily into renewal and transformation, which feels appropriate. I’m seeing a lot of books about second chances, fresh starts, and characters who finally get their act together. Whether that’s the zeitgeist or just my own wishful thinking, I’ll leave to the literary critics.

Australian Fiction

Let’s start close to home. Charlotte Wood’s latest novel continues her exploration of female friendship and ageing, but this time with more humour than her previous work. It’s still unflinching—Wood doesn’t do comfortable—but there’s genuine warmth here that makes the harder moments land even better.

Tony Birch has a new collection of short stories set in regional Victoria that’s been sitting on my bedside table for two weeks. I’m rationing them because once they’re gone, they’re gone. His writing about place and community is unmatched, and these stories capture something essential about Australian life that rarely makes it into the literary conversation.

For something lighter (relatively), Liane Moriarty’s new book delivers exactly what you’d expect: family secrets, multiple timelines, and that thing she does where you’re convinced you’ve figured it out and then she pulls the rug. It’s comfort reading for people who like their comfort with a side of domestic suspense.

International Voices

The Booker shortlist this year is genuinely exciting, which doesn’t always happen. I’m particularly drawn to Samantha Harvey’s novel about astronauts on the International Space Station, which sounds like it could be gimmicky but absolutely isn’t. It’s meditative and strange and beautiful in ways I wasn’t expecting.

There’s also a translated novel from Japanese that’s been getting attention—Mieko Kawakami’s work about three women in Tokyo navigating friendship and loneliness. The translation is exceptional, which matters more than people sometimes realise. A bad translation can kill a brilliant book; a good one makes you forget you’re reading across languages.

Poetry for People Who Think They Don’t Like Poetry

October is Australian Poetry Month, so I’m trying to read at least one collection that challenges me. This year it’s Ali Cobby Eckermann’s new work, which combines traditional storytelling with contemporary forms in ways that make my brain work differently. That’s the best thing poetry can do—shift your thinking just enough that you see things fresh.

If you’re poetry-curious but intimidated, start with Sarah Holland-Batt. Her work is accessible without being simplistic, and she writes about the natural world in ways that make you want to go outside immediately.

The Non-Fiction Corner

I’m a fiction person primarily, but spring always makes me want to read about real things. Helen Macdonald’s new essay collection about nature and loss is stunning—she’s the writer who did H is for Hawk, and this has the same emotional intelligence combined with scientific rigour.

There’s also a biography of Patrick White that’s been years in the making, and early reviews suggest it’s definitive without being hagiographic. I’m saving it for a long weekend when I can really sink in, because at 800 pages, it’s not a commute read.

What I’m Actually Reading Right Now

Confession: none of the above. I’m re-reading Shirley Hazzard’s The Transit of Venus for the fourth time because sometimes you just need to spend time with prose that perfect. It’s set partly in Sydney, partly in New York and London, and it’s about love and ambition and the ways we fail each other despite our best intentions.

Every time I read it, I find something new. That’s the mark of a truly great novel—it grows with you, reveals different facets depending on where you are in your own life.

Making Space for Reading

The practical question: how do we actually read all these books when life keeps happening? I’ve stopped feeling guilty about abandoned books. If something isn’t working after 50 pages, I move on. Life’s too short, and there are too many brilliant books waiting.

I’m also trying to read more intentionally—phone away, proper chunks of time, rather than five minutes here and there while waiting for the kettle to boil. It makes a difference to how deeply I engage with what I’m reading.

Spring feels like the right time to reset these habits. The days are getting longer, the weather’s better for sitting outside with a book, and there’s that sense of possibility in the air that makes starting something new feel natural.

What’s on your spring reading list? I’m always looking for recommendations, especially from Australian authors I might have missed. The joy of reading is partly the discovery, and partly the conversation afterward.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a Tony Birch story calling my name.