February Reading Recap

The Artist's Wife 1933 by Henry Lamb 1883-1960
“The Artist’s Wife” by Henry Lamb. 1933. Courtesy of the Tate Modern Museum.

I’m a little embarrassed to say that my goal of writing about every book I read this year crumbled about a month and a half into 2019. Instead of trying to catch up with everything I’ve missed (which was the original plan. Yikes), I’m going to write up a brief recap of everything I read in February and the beginning of this month. I might delve a little deeper into a few of them in separate posts, but until then–this foothold:

Home Fire by Kamila Shamsie

Kamila Shamsie’s latest novel–winner of the 2018 Women’s Prize for Fiction–is the most well-crafted book I’ve read this year. As a retelling of Sophocles’ Antigone, Shamsie builds her novel around the play’s central plot device: the repatriation of a body. We don’t know who it will be, or how the events will unfold, but we have five locations and five narrators leading the reader to one of the best endings in fiction I’ve read in many years.

Shamsie breathes life into fully formed characters–molding them from the bones of an ancient narrative that carries just as much weight today as it did thousands of years ago. The five perspectives of Shamsie’s characters create a complex image of Muslim identity in the West, and, in turn, render, discover, and reject the notion of “home” as events unfold. Her retelling shows us that these constructions of identity remain the same, whether they rest on nationality, ethnicity, or religion.

“Mr. Salary” by Sally Rooney

I’ve made it known far and wide that I love Sally Rooney’s work. The way she renders emotion and the minutiae of relationships with inimitable precision will earn her a place among the greatest writers of my generation. Her short story, “Mr Salary,”–first published in Granta in 2016–functions as a skeleton for her first novel Conversations With Friends. More than anything else, I was intrigued to see the matter of her brilliant first novel as it was in its earliest iterations.

The Friend Sigrid Nunez

Sigrid Nunez’s latest novel is not one I would have read of my own accord. It appeared on several “best of” lists at the end of last year, and I’m not ashamed to admit I’m a sucker for those. I actively try to read books I’ve never heard of or ones I would not normally read. When it comes to literature, I am easily persuaded.

In this instance, I wish I’d spent time reading something else. The Friend wasn’t a bad book, but it lost focus early on. Ostensibly, this novel is about the narrator’s loss of a close friend who has committed suicide. After his death, she ends up taking ownership of the friend’s Great Dane. Had the narrative focused on the loss of the friend and the narrator’s subsequent care of the dog, the book might have made a better case for itself. Even better if it had focused on one of those two things more than the other. In my opinion, the narrator’s exploits with the dog are the book’s strongest elements.

Unfortunately, Nunez ends up weaving three distinct narrative threads–the narrator’s contemplation of the friend’s death, the narrator’s reflection on man’s relationship with animals, and the narrator’s thoughts on the changing nature of those who become writers–much to the books detriment. To her credit, Nunez moves between these three elements fairly well, but it’s too much to tackle in a book that’s just over 200 pages.

Crazy Rich Asians by Kevin Kwan

This was my go-to gym read during the early weeks of February. Kwan transports readers to the wealthiest places on earth in this novel, which is not something I would typically care to read about, but I heard a lot of positive things, and I was looking for something light to read. Nothing about the main romantic plot line is original in any way, which is fine. The novel’s appeal, I thought, stemmed from its intimate knowledge of how the ultra-wealthy of Southeast Asia live their lives. More than that, it was entertaining and funny–a solidly enjoyable read.

The Vanishing Stair by Maureen Johnson

I loved the first installment of Maureen Johnson’s Truly Devious series, so this was a highly anticipated follow-up for me. The Vanishing Stair showcases Johnson’s great technical ability as a writer, but it lacked some of the first book’s polished shine. And as with so many second books in a trilogy, the plot of this one spends a lot of time setting things up for the final installment. Johnson did do a great job of lacing a lot of dark elements throughout the book without them becoming overwhelming, and overall, I think it was well done.

Cherry by Nico Walker

Much has been made of the fact that the author of this book is currently serving an eleven year sentence for bank robbery. Buzzfeed’s profile of Walker, published in 2013, details his horrific experiences in Iraq and his descent into PTSD. Obviously, a lot of autobiographical content went into Cherry, but it is ultimately fiction–brilliant, fucked-up, devastating, earth-shattering fiction.

The novel’s narrator is a dirtbag, but he’s likable–more and more so as the novel progresses. The book’s latter half, from the section called “Cherry” forward, is so gut-wrenchingly well-written that I had a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that Walker had never before written fiction because what he’s produced says more about the futility and stupidity of war, and the pain of drug addiction, than any book I’ve read.

Cherry is now nominated for the PEN Hemingway Award, and it was (allegedly) Hemingway (though it probably wasn’t) who said, “There’s nothing to writing. All you do is sit a typewriter and bleed.” And that’s what Walker did.

The Real Lolita: The Kidnapping of Sally Horner and the Novel that Scandalized the World by Sarah Weinman

I was really looking forward to this book, but it fell far short of my expectations. Sarah Weinman published an article in 2014 linking Sally Horner’s kidnapping to Vladimir Nabokov’s classic controversial novel, Lolita. She adapted her article into this book, which was a huge mistake. There’s simply not enough information for a manuscript of this length. What you end up with is a lot of filler and very little substance.

I have no particular feelings about Lolita other than that–on a technical level–it is brilliant and deserves “classic” status. I did not know that Nabokov actively opposed the discussion of real life influences on his fiction, and I don’t really care that he felt that way because fiction is not real life and vice versa.

Weinman draws a lot from the fact that Nabokov briefly mentions Sally Horner’s kidnapping in the book (which makes it obvious that he knew about her, so I don’t understand why she felt the need to justify her argument with tenuous evidence?) to support her claim that Nabokov could not have written the book had he not mined Horner’s case for inspiration. I understand the concept of wanting to tell Sally’s story and return agency to a life that was filled with horror and tragedy, but to what end? Do we vilify Nabokov for writing his book? Weinman toes a weird line between respect and condemnation when writing about the Nabokovs, and it was unclear what she wanted the purpose of this book to be other than as a means for readers to bear witness to Sally Horner’s life.

Ninety-Nine Glimpses of Princess Margaret by Craig Brown

I just watched both seasons of The Crown and thought this would be a fun book to read in tandem. It is meant to be funny but I didn’t find it so because of my age and deeply ingrained American-ness. As a whole, it gives readers a fairly comprehensive look at an improbable life. She was kind of an asshole, but also a bit of a legend. A little tragic, and almost entirely ridiculous.

Night Sky With Exit Wounds by Ocean Vuong

Ocean Vuong has an upcoming collection that Jia Tolentino–one of my favorite humans–recommended. I thought it would be prudent to read his debut collection Night Sky With Exit Wounds to learn more about his work. Some of his poems are very good. In general, specific lines and images stand out as exemplary elements rather than whole poems taking on the quality of greatness. He draws on visions of water and night and dreamscapes to build his poems, and it becomes repetitive by the end. I can only imagine he’s developed over time. I liked this collection enough to be optimistic about his new one.

Convenience Store Woman by Sayaka Murata

I read that Sally Rooney, Lisa McInerney, Harriett Gilbert, and a bevy of other writers/readers whose opinions I respect loved this book. It’s a slim novel, but it packs a lot of commentary about alienation, solitude, capitalism, and societal obligation into just 160 pages. The narrator–a thirty-six-year old convenience store worker named Keiko–is neurologically atypical in some undefined way. For eighteen years, she’s remained a part-time worker at this store because she’s found within its aquarium-like environment a microcosm of “normalcy” where she becomes a cog in a well-oiled machine.

A lot of Keiko’s observations are astute and genuinely funny, but I felt a little something might have been lost in translation, particularly as it pertains to the style of Murata’s sentences. Overall, it was really enjoyable and only slightly unnerving.

Things I Loved This Week

kacey
Photo courtesy of royalalberthall.com.

From Harriett Gilbert and Jia Tolentino (again) to my beloved Kacey Musgraves, here are the things I loved this week:

  • Harriett Gilbert’s presentations on BBC Radio 4’s A Good Read accompany me on my drive to and from work. This week, her guests chose Milkman by Anna Burns and The Argonauts by Maggie Nelson–a book I’ve written about in the past.
  • Claire Mullen writes about Nahui Olin: “Poet, Artist, Erotic Muse of Mexico’s Avant Garde.”
  • Jia Tolentino’s profile of and interview with Marlon James.
  • Fifty writers, from George Saunders to Hilary Mantel, choose some of their favorite short stories for the Guardian’s compilation “Bite-sized: 50 great short stories.”
  • I discovered Kacey Musgraves’ full performance at the Royal Albert Hall in London about a year ago. It made me cry because it is perfect. I revisited her iconic show this past week.

Things I Loved This Week

sylvia
Sylvia Plath. Photograph: Granger/REX/Shutterstock 

The list is sparse this week, but these articles are fascinating. Emily Van Duyne writes about a chance encounter at the grave of Sylvia Plath; David Treuer discusses the myth of the “New World”; and Emily Temple talks about Virginia Woolf as a child.

Things I Loved This Week

baldwin
Photograph by Jane Evelyn Atwood / Courtesy David Zwirner

This week has been a sad one. Mary Oliver died on Thursday aged 83. More than anything, I recommend people reread their favorite Oliver poems and relish her love for the natural world.

In other news, the government shutdown is still in full swing with no end in sight. To ease the burden, Chapo Trap House and Amber Frost provide comic reprieve and hope for the future, Vinson Cunningham talks about the landscape of hell, and we remember James Baldwin and Patrice Lumumba.

Things I Loved This Week

cortazar
Photo courtesy of LitHub

Here we are again. Another week, another roundup. Most of the articles I loved this week come straight from LitHub: the greatest lit website you or I will ever encounter. My keen interest in the work of Jia Tolentino led me to a review she wrote of the song “Rude” by Magic! It was published a few years ago, but never have I witnessed such sweet vivisection. Otherwise it’s a mixed bag of true crime, elegy, and writing about writing/writers.

Here are the things I loved this week:

 

Things I Loved This Week

turgenevblows
Photo courtesy of LitHub.com

Some of my favorite book bloggers publish weekly roundups of things they loved, and many of them contain links to articles, artists, or products that I end up really enjoying. I’ve decided to contribute my own weekly lists of things I love. This week, I’ll be sharing a handful of articles I found fascinating. Here goes!

  1. Sally Rooney Gets in Your Head” is a profile of the writer by Lauren Collins for the New Yorker. Anything Sally Rooney related is bound to grab my attention. This article in particular paints a portrait of Rooney as a wunderkind of literature.
  2. As much as I love year-end “best of” lists, compilations of books to look out for in the year to come are my favorite. The Guardian happens to publish some of my favorite lists, and I was excited to see the books its contributors highlighted for 2019.
  3. Every morning, I get emails from Anne Bogel’s blog “Modern Mrs. Darcy.” She compiles my favorite weekly lists because they often draw my attention to bookish articles I wouldn’t have known about otherwise. This past week, she highlighted “Jane Austen’s Subtly Subversive Linguistics” in which the author argues that Clueless is the most faithful Austen adaptation.
  4. LitHub is my absolute favorite. They publish fascinating pieces about writers and artists that are often forgotten by other book websites and bloggers. I tweeted last week, that if I had an aesthetic, it would be their article titled “Edward Gorey, Frank O’Hara and Harvard’s Gay Underground.”
  5. Also from LitHub, a hilarious rundown of “The Weirdos of Russian Literature.” The next time I break plans, I’ll just pull a Turgenev and tell people I couldn’t have possibly gone out because my thumbs are too small. What a legend.

2018 in Review / 2019 Resolutions

Image result for stock photo of books

2018 was a disappointing year for reviewing. I fell ten books short of my reading goal (80 books), which I’m not too upset about, but I regret that I didn’t have the self-discipline to write at least a few paragraphs about each book. Writing about everything I read was my vision for this website–a way for me to think critically about the words and stories I’m digesting. Otherwise I’m an overeager magpie with a stash of half-remembered sentences and nothing useful to say about any of them.

2019 will be a fresh start. In the last few months of 2018, I began keeping a reading journal in an attempt to make up for this lack of critical thought. My brain has always essentially been a hunk of Swiss cheese, so writing things down is my way of understanding what I think and a way for me to jump start a decent enough analysis. Though I admit, even then, sometimes what I write is garbage. I like to think it’s because I don’t focus enough. Since the beginning of time, writing has been like pulling teeth for me, so it’s damn near painful every time I approach it. But along with increasing the number of words I write, I would also like to suck less as a writer…another resolution.

Looking forward, I intend to publish something here at least once a week. I think that’s a decent enough start. I’ve already started planning some things–specifically reviews for My Year of Rest and Relaxation by Ottessa Moshfegh and The Immortalists by Chloe Benjamin.

Things are looking good. There’s so much I want to read, and the act of starting fresh each year with new goals and resolutions is always exciting. I can’t wait to dive in.