What do you think?
Rate this book
Today I Ate a Biscuit
It began with a biscuit. Not a grand biscuit, nor a terrible one—simply a biscuit, unremarkable in every way but the one that mattered it was there.
From the first bite to the final crumb, this is the saga of that biscuit, told with the seriousness it never asked for and the depth it could never deserve. Along the way, hunger wrestles with hesitation, distractions arrive in the form of a knock at the door and phantom phone calls, and the great philosophical questions of our time are asked—such as whether regret tastes different when it is edible, and why the fridge is always worth checking at least three times.
What unfolds is a journey of persistence, doubt, distraction, redemption, and peace—a reflection not just on food, but on the act of continuing when there’s no clear reason to. It is an ode to imperfection, an examination of patience, and, somehow, a quiet celebration of knowing when something is enough.
The biscuit is long gone now, but its story remains.
From the first bite to the final crumb, this is the saga of that biscuit, told with the seriousness it never asked for and the depth it could never deserve. Along the way, hunger wrestles with hesitation, distractions arrive in the form of a knock at the door and phantom phone calls, and the great philosophical questions of our time are asked—such as whether regret tastes different when it is edible, and why the fridge is always worth checking at least three times.
What unfolds is a journey of persistence, doubt, distraction, redemption, and peace—a reflection not just on food, but on the act of continuing when there’s no clear reason to. It is an ode to imperfection, an examination of patience, and, somehow, a quiet celebration of knowing when something is enough.
The biscuit is long gone now, but its story remains.
196 pages, Kindle Edition
Published March 1, 2026
About the author
Justin M. Davis
2 booksJustin M. Davis writes stories shaped by humor, heart, and the shadows we try to outrun.
From an early age, he found joy in creating stories filled with emotion, imaginative worlds, and introspective moments. Writing became more than creative expression. It became a way to explore the deeper corners of thought, feeling, and human experience. What began as childhood storytelling grew into a lifelong pursuit of understanding life through narrative.
Justin writes across genres, choosing the form that best serves each story rather than limiting himself to a single category. His work spans literary absurdism, psychological suspense, fantasy, and beyond, exploring everything from the quiet absurdities of everyday life to obsession, identity, hope, grief, and wonder. Across those very different stories, his work is united by immersive settings, memorable characters, philosophical undercurrents, and a reflective voice focused on the human experiences beneath the plot.
When he isn’t writing, Justin enjoys spending time with his family, composing music, developing video games, and practicing light nature photography. These creative pursuits often find their way back into his storytelling, shaping the imagination, emotion, and perspective he brings to his work.
From an early age, he found joy in creating stories filled with emotion, imaginative worlds, and introspective moments. Writing became more than creative expression. It became a way to explore the deeper corners of thought, feeling, and human experience. What began as childhood storytelling grew into a lifelong pursuit of understanding life through narrative.
Justin writes across genres, choosing the form that best serves each story rather than limiting himself to a single category. His work spans literary absurdism, psychological suspense, fantasy, and beyond, exploring everything from the quiet absurdities of everyday life to obsession, identity, hope, grief, and wonder. Across those very different stories, his work is united by immersive settings, memorable characters, philosophical undercurrents, and a reflective voice focused on the human experiences beneath the plot.
When he isn’t writing, Justin enjoys spending time with his family, composing music, developing video games, and practicing light nature photography. These creative pursuits often find their way back into his storytelling, shaping the imagination, emotion, and perspective he brings to his work.
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 2 of 2 reviews
March 9, 2026
An Honest Catholic Review of Today I Ate a Biscuit
I read this book as a Catholic, and as someone who personally knows the author. My review is a Catholic review. No, the author did not ask me to read it and no the author certainly didn't ask me to leave a review. At least not directly.
Today I Ate a Biscuit (published in 2026 by Justin M. Davis) is a slim, quirky debut novel, or more accurately, a meditative novella. It takes an ordinary event—eating a plain biscuit—and stretches it into a 194-page reflection on hesitation, persistence, doubt, distractions, and eventual peace. The unnamed narrator thinks about, prepares, butters, bites into, and finishes the biscuit while also debating a second one. Throughout, there are philosophical thoughts on regret, imperfection, patience, and the significant weight of small moments.
From a Catholic viewpoint, this book serves as an unexpected invitation to reflect on the virtue of prudence and the practice of mindfulness in daily life—ideas deeply rooted in Catholic tradition.
Gratitude for the Simple Gifts
Catholic spirituality, especially from the Ignatian tradition and the writings of St. Thérèse of Lisieux (the "Little Way"), encourages finding God in the everyday. The narrator’s intense focus on one humble biscuit reflects this: the biscuit is neither grand nor terrible; it simply exists, a created item provided by God. Now the narrator avoids God entirely. In fact, that will be my critique down below. Eating it slowly, paying attention to its texture, the butter's response, and the last crumb, becomes a small act of thanksgiving. In a culture filled with distractions, this book honors the created order—flour, salt, milk, butter—as gifts from the Creator. Again, no mention of the Creator. It is entirely secular in the question of God. One could almost picture St. Francis of Assisi smiling at this tribute to a single, ordinary piece of creation. However, this book doesn't go beyond the secular, and definitely, does not claim that the biscuit is only availble by God's gifts to mankind.
Themes of Hesitation, Regret, and Redemption
The narrator struggles with hunger versus hesitation, interruptions like knocks on the door or phantom phone calls, and whether regret "tastes different when it is edible." These conflicts reflect the human experience after the Fall. We tend to overthink simple pleasures, fear commitment even to small joys, and carry feelings of guilt or indecision. Yet the journey leads to persistence, redemption of the moment, and peace—understanding when something is enough.
This narrative fits well with Catholic moral teaching:
Prudence, or right reason in action, involves not rushing but carefully discerning our actions.
Temperance is shown through savoring without gluttony—the biscuit is one, and perhaps a second after reflection, rather than overindulgence.
The resolution of acceptance and the knowledge of "when something is enough" embodies detachment and contentment in God’s will, teachings emphasized by St. Ignatius or St. Teresa of Ávila.
The wistful tone—"the moment before something happens holds more power than the thing itself"—can evoke a sense of longing, a yearning for eternity, or the purification of attachments found in purgatory.
A Gentle Catholic Critique
However, the book maintains a secular tone—there are no explicit references to God, prayer, or sacraments. The "redemption" described is personal and close to home rather than explicitly centered on Christ. A Catholic reader might seek a deeper connection—perhaps linking the broken biscuit to the breaking of bread in the Eucharist or the act of eating to receiving grace in ordinary moments. The humor is delightful, dry, and self-aware, yet it doesn’t explore sin, grace, or the Cross as deeply as a Catholic might desire in a meditation on human actions.
This is not a flaw; it simply reflects the book’s scope. Like a modern fable or philosophical prose poem, it invites readers to draw theological depth from their own backgrounds. For a Catholic, it can serve as a gentle examination of conscience in daily life: How often do we forget to appreciate small joys? How do distractions draw us away from being present? When do we say "enough" instead of longing for more?
In short, Today I Ate a Biscuit isn’t overly religious, but it provides a rich ground for Catholic reflection. It humorously and poignantly reminds us that holiness can hide in the kitchen, in the pause before a bite, and in the quiet acceptance of what we have. It’s a great read for anyone who enjoys slow, thoughtful storytelling with a touch of whimsy—especially for those looking to practice being aware of God in the smallest of things. The biscuit may be gone, but the story and its quiet lessons linger.
I read this book as a Catholic, and as someone who personally knows the author. My review is a Catholic review. No, the author did not ask me to read it and no the author certainly didn't ask me to leave a review. At least not directly.
Today I Ate a Biscuit (published in 2026 by Justin M. Davis) is a slim, quirky debut novel, or more accurately, a meditative novella. It takes an ordinary event—eating a plain biscuit—and stretches it into a 194-page reflection on hesitation, persistence, doubt, distractions, and eventual peace. The unnamed narrator thinks about, prepares, butters, bites into, and finishes the biscuit while also debating a second one. Throughout, there are philosophical thoughts on regret, imperfection, patience, and the significant weight of small moments.
From a Catholic viewpoint, this book serves as an unexpected invitation to reflect on the virtue of prudence and the practice of mindfulness in daily life—ideas deeply rooted in Catholic tradition.
Gratitude for the Simple Gifts
Catholic spirituality, especially from the Ignatian tradition and the writings of St. Thérèse of Lisieux (the "Little Way"), encourages finding God in the everyday. The narrator’s intense focus on one humble biscuit reflects this: the biscuit is neither grand nor terrible; it simply exists, a created item provided by God. Now the narrator avoids God entirely. In fact, that will be my critique down below. Eating it slowly, paying attention to its texture, the butter's response, and the last crumb, becomes a small act of thanksgiving. In a culture filled with distractions, this book honors the created order—flour, salt, milk, butter—as gifts from the Creator. Again, no mention of the Creator. It is entirely secular in the question of God. One could almost picture St. Francis of Assisi smiling at this tribute to a single, ordinary piece of creation. However, this book doesn't go beyond the secular, and definitely, does not claim that the biscuit is only availble by God's gifts to mankind.
Themes of Hesitation, Regret, and Redemption
The narrator struggles with hunger versus hesitation, interruptions like knocks on the door or phantom phone calls, and whether regret "tastes different when it is edible." These conflicts reflect the human experience after the Fall. We tend to overthink simple pleasures, fear commitment even to small joys, and carry feelings of guilt or indecision. Yet the journey leads to persistence, redemption of the moment, and peace—understanding when something is enough.
This narrative fits well with Catholic moral teaching:
Prudence, or right reason in action, involves not rushing but carefully discerning our actions.
Temperance is shown through savoring without gluttony—the biscuit is one, and perhaps a second after reflection, rather than overindulgence.
The resolution of acceptance and the knowledge of "when something is enough" embodies detachment and contentment in God’s will, teachings emphasized by St. Ignatius or St. Teresa of Ávila.
The wistful tone—"the moment before something happens holds more power than the thing itself"—can evoke a sense of longing, a yearning for eternity, or the purification of attachments found in purgatory.
A Gentle Catholic Critique
However, the book maintains a secular tone—there are no explicit references to God, prayer, or sacraments. The "redemption" described is personal and close to home rather than explicitly centered on Christ. A Catholic reader might seek a deeper connection—perhaps linking the broken biscuit to the breaking of bread in the Eucharist or the act of eating to receiving grace in ordinary moments. The humor is delightful, dry, and self-aware, yet it doesn’t explore sin, grace, or the Cross as deeply as a Catholic might desire in a meditation on human actions.
This is not a flaw; it simply reflects the book’s scope. Like a modern fable or philosophical prose poem, it invites readers to draw theological depth from their own backgrounds. For a Catholic, it can serve as a gentle examination of conscience in daily life: How often do we forget to appreciate small joys? How do distractions draw us away from being present? When do we say "enough" instead of longing for more?
In short, Today I Ate a Biscuit isn’t overly religious, but it provides a rich ground for Catholic reflection. It humorously and poignantly reminds us that holiness can hide in the kitchen, in the pause before a bite, and in the quiet acceptance of what we have. It’s a great read for anyone who enjoys slow, thoughtful storytelling with a touch of whimsy—especially for those looking to practice being aware of God in the smallest of things. The biscuit may be gone, but the story and its quiet lessons linger.
April 18, 2026
“Perfection can be playful.” And playful it was, just as it was perfect. The most mundane of things, perhaps even dreadful (because biscuits are never someone’s FAVORITE baked goods. Ask anyone, seriously) written about in an absurdly but fabulously romantic way!
However, I would be remiss not to mention that it sounds like something ChatGPT would write if I said “I just had the best biscuit of my life, write about it in a way that makes me question my entire worth and existence, please and thank you.” Maybe that’s a compliment, though.
Some other quotes I enjoyed (quoted to the best of my short term memory‘s abilities):
“Joy should not erupt… joy expands”
“Humans want to keep trying” (or something like that)
However, I would be remiss not to mention that it sounds like something ChatGPT would write if I said “I just had the best biscuit of my life, write about it in a way that makes me question my entire worth and existence, please and thank you.” Maybe that’s a compliment, though.
Some other quotes I enjoyed (quoted to the best of my short term memory‘s abilities):
“Joy should not erupt… joy expands”
“Humans want to keep trying” (or something like that)
Displaying 1 - 2 of 2 reviews