Another year, another 140 books (or so) books read. Of these, 44% were non-fiction on topics from science to politics to history to biography to (of course) ‘how to write’ books. Because hope springs eternal on that front.
Here’s a quick summary of some of my favourites.
Climate (yes, it’s bad):
Arboreality, by Rebecca Campbell. Interconnected stories about how a B.C. community survives climate change. Winner of the 2023 Ursula K. Leguin Prize for Fiction.
Fire Weather: The Making of A Beast, by Jon Vaillant. The Tiger is one of my favorite books and Vaillant has done it again in this journey into the heart of the Fort McMurray Fire of 2016 and a exploration of how fire has shaped our past and our future.
Shipwrecks:
The Night Ship, by Jess Kidd. Fictionalized version of the aftermath of the wreck of the Batavia in 1629 intertwined with the modern story of a troubled boy on the remote island where the gruesome events played out. After this, I naturally had to read (or listen to)…
Batavia’s Graveyard: The True Story of the Mad Heretic Who Led History’s Bloodiest Mutiny, by Mike Dash.
The Sea (sans shipwrecks):
The Mountain in the Sea, by Ray Nayler. One of my top three books of the year. A dystopic future, greedy corporations, conflicted scientists, and intelligent octopuses.
The Soul of an Octopus, by Sy Montgomery. One of the books cited by Nayler. A readable, moving story of one naturalist and the octopuses that she befriended.
Below the Edge of Darkness: A Memoir of Exploring Light and Life in the Deep Sea, by Edith Widder. Science, life, bioluminescence, and more evidence that we should not be destroying the last mysterious biosphere on Earth.
Rediscovered (by me) Brilliance:
The Winged Histories and The White Mosque, by Sofia Samatar. The first book is one of the best things I read this year, hand’s down, no contest. Four viewpoints on a land on the cusp of upheaval, with incredible prose, absolutely control of narrative structure, and if I could ever write a fantasy novel half this good, I’d be so happy. Samatar herself has an unusual background – she’s the daughter of a Swiss-Mennonite and a Somali Muslim, raised in the US – and, in the second book, she explores the equally unlikely tale of a group of German Mennonites who travel from Russia to Central Asia in the nineteenth century. She doesn’t write a lot, but everything she puts out into the world is amazing.
Artists are Assholes (a perennial category):
Monsters, by Claire Dederer. This expansion of Dederer’s essay “What Do We Do With the Art of Monstrous Men?” looks at her complicated feelings towards artists such as Hemingway, Picasso, Miles Davis, Sylvia Path, and more. Part of my ongoing research for the book I keep trying to write.
Kiki May Ray: Art, Love, and Rivalry in 1920s Paris, by Mark Braude. A portrait of Kiki de Montparnasse – artist, cabaret star, muse – and the world of artists around her, including Man Ray, Jean Cocteau, Marcel Duchamp and more. And yes, a few ‘monsters’ show up.
Not all Artists
Ways of Seeing, by John Berger. Late to the party, as always, but I finally read this influential book based on the writer’s 1970s BBC series.
How to be An Artist, and Art is Life, by Jerry Saltz. Artist-turned-critic Saltz has useful thoughts about what it means to be an artist (of any sort), how to cope with the good bits and the bad, shares his appraisals of a surprising range of artists, and reveals his own failures and epiphanies.
It Girls (70s division):
Nanaimo Girl, by Prudence Emery. Small-town BC girl hits 70s London, Hollywood, and many points in between, committed to a life full of adventure, love, and the very best parties.
I Used to be Charming: The Best of Eve Babitz, by Eve Babitz & Molly Lambert. Hollywood’s Eve: Eve Babitz and the Secret History of L.A. by Lili Anolik. Eve Babitz chronicled growing up and getting into trouble in 60s and 70s Hollywood with a clever and honest eye, as life took her from hanging out with rock stars to playing chess (naked) with Marcel Duchamp to inadvertently setting herself on fire. A true original.
Series (which I mostly managed to read in one year):
The Poppy War Trilogy, by R.F. Kuang. Though the main character often annoyed me, this series is still a gripping story of war, magic, colonization, and survival.
Castles in Their Bones Series, by Laura Sebastian. The third of these comes out in early 2024 and I’m looking forward to wrapping up this YA series about three young women raised to achieve their mother’s dreams of conquest.
The American Fairy Trilogy, by Sarah Zettel. Dust bowl America and early Hollywood seem underused settings for fantasy (cue all the book recommendations) and I thoroughly enjoyed Zettel’s YA series (which starts with Red Dust Girl) about a young woman caught between warring fairy clans. For another book that looks at the intersection of early Hollywood and the fey, read Nghi Vo’s Siren Queen.
Miss Fisher Series, by Kerry Greenwood. Ok, I’m not even close to finishing this one, but the books are wonderful palate cleansers between grim fantasies and non-fiction books about the Partition of India or rising fascism in the US.
People are People, Past and Present (with some outliers shoved in here):
The Great Partition: The Making of India and Pakistan, by Yasmin Khan. I listen to the EMPIRE podcast by William Dalrymple and Anita Anand and realized I know very little about the Partition (beyond what I saw on Ms. Marvel, of course). This book provides an excellent overview and some definitely grim reading.
Orientalism, by Edward Said. Because I finally got around to reading yet another highly influential book decades after it was published, this one about about the West’s view of ‘the Orient’.
Doppelganger: A Trip into the Mirror World, by Naomi Klein. Klein was used to being confused with Naomi Wolff, whose career was not dissimilar to her own, but when her doppelganger’s views became diametrically opposed to hers, she struggled with how she should respond. This led to a thoughtful exploration of how we view reality in an increasingly digital and divided world.
The Fire is Upon Us: James Baldwin, William F. Buckley, and the Debate over Race in America, by Nicholas Buccola. I’d seen clips from the famous debate between Baldwin and Buckley but not much else. This book provides some background into how both men ended up on that stage and reproduces their speeches in full.
Riverman: An American Odyssey, by Ben McGrath. The author meets a man canoeing down the Hudson and months later receives a call from police in North Carolina who’ve found his card in a wrecked canoe. This sets McGrath on a hunt for the story of Dick Conant, whose unconventional life touched a web of people up and down the rivers of America.
Fiction, Dark and Bright:
Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, by Gabrielle Zevin. Fast-paced, funny, moving – and unsurprisingly optioned for film before it was even published. Made gaming sound interesting to me, which is quite a feat.
Bryony and Roses, by T. Kingfisher. I’m a sucker for a good Beauty and the Beast story (ya think?) and this one was lovely. A grumpy gardener, a baffled beast, and some truly nasty roses. And it was inspired by Robin McKinley’s Rose Daughter, which is another beautiful retelling.
Unraveller, by Frances Hardinge. The prose is gorgeous, the characters are compelling, and the story goes in unexpected, and sometimes tough, directions. All absolutely my jam.
The Custom of the Country, by Edith Wharton. Apparently, Sofia Coppola’s miniseries of this for Apple TV got nixed because “the idea of an unlikeable female lead is not their thing.” Social climber Undine Spragg is definitely unlikeable but the book is funny, satirical, and would probably make a great series.
Dark is Better, by Gemma Files. Because it’s Gemma Files! Ok, full disclosure, Gemma is a friend and writing date partner. She’s also a brilliant, award-winning, ‘name on the cover of the anthology’ horror writer. Read any collection by her and find a whole new set of things to fear.
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