My Favourite Books from 2018

The year is coming to an end and it was frankly a wonderful year in books. So here it goes. Just a caveat, I will be only listing books that were actually published in 2018, so leaving out amazing books like Arundhati Roy's The Ministry of Utmost Happiness and Helen Ann Thompson's epic history of the Attica Prison uprising, Blood in the Water. Go read those too!

But here is the Top 10 Books I have read this year:

10. Richard Powers, The Overstory (W.W. Norton and Company)

I am not quite done this but I am confident that this will be on my top ten and could very well be near the top. Powers book has made many top ten lists and was shortlisted for the Man Booker and maybe would have won if not for the fact that Americans had won the previous two years. The story is structured like a tree, with 8 stories (roots) introduced separately to merge (trunk). An homage to the great lifeforms that are trees, Powers prose is elegant and rich and entrancing. By the time I finish, I may claim the work is a masterpiece.

9.  Nafissa Thompson-Spires, Heads of Colored People (Atria)

The best short story collection I read this year, Thompson-Spires dives deep into the contemporary African American experience, with a strong grasp of politics, pop culture, history. Funny and engaging, each story leaves one chuckling or astonished. Looking forward to future work of hers.

8. Esi Edugyan, Washington Black (Serpent's Tale)

Edugyan won herself a second Giller Prize for this story of an escaped slave who sets of on a fantastical journey that forces him to confront the price freedom brings as well as the limits it presents to a black man, even one incredibly talented. Edugyan's story is told in spell binding prose and paints rich characters, even if the story at times the story is a bit too apocryphal. Nonetheless, its an adventure story like no other, a powerful retelling of the slave narrative, that will have longevity as a text for many years to come.

7. Sigrid Nunez, The Friend (Riverhead)

The Friend follows a woman dealing with the death of her good friend who has left her an aging Great Dane to take care of. Emotionally wrecked, she quickly finds solace in the dogs embrace and restructures her entire life to meet the needs of him. This slim book packs so much as it offers a powerful lamentation about death, grief, and how we process the most difficult moments in our life. A pleasant surprise winner of the National Book Award last month.

6. Ottessa  Moshfegh, My Year of Rest and Relaxation  (Penguin Press)

Moshfegh is the master of writing the most engaging characters who are simultaneously disgusting and offputting. Here she gives us an unnamed narrator, lost and bewildered as her parents have died, who decides to confront her existential anxiety by sleeping for the year. Filling herself with drugs prescribed by a hilariously frightening psychiatrist, she tries to sleep away her sorrows only to find herself doing things while she is out. Funny and sharp, Moshfegh delivers her best work yet.

5. Julian Barnes, The Only Story (Vintage)

Barnes tells an emotionally devastating novel about a young man who begins an affair with a much older married woman and tells the story of their relationship as it descends into chaos as addiction and depression overtakes all feelings of lust and love. Beautifully told and executed perfectly, Barnes' only story is one of sadness but also one that speaks to many truths about love and loss.

4. Nick Drasdo, Sabrina (Drawn and Quarterly)

The first ever graphic novel longlisted for the Man Booker Prize, Sabrina tells the story of the aftermath of a young woman's murder, following her sister, her boyfriend and her boyfriend's childhood friend as they try to process what has happened while the lunatic world of conspiracy theories shows its fangs in response to the death. The drawing is stunning, flat and cold but fitting of the chilling story being told. Panels are allowed to convey silence and loneliness, capturing perfectly the world that has left so many vulnerable to violence and pain. Graphic novels are expensive so if out of your budget get it from the library!

3. Rebecca Makkai, The Great Believers (Viking)

Also did a full review here. Makkai delivers the big social novel of the year about the AIDS crisis in the mid 1980s, taking place in the heart of Chicago's gay community, where Yale, a young donations solicitor for a university affiliated art gallery is watching his friends die off. Flash thirty years into the future, Fiona, one of Yale's friends, who was a caregiver for many of the dying, deals with consequences of death and loss in her early life as she searches for her missing daughter. This book is a punch in the gut and a faithful retelling of a shameful period in American history, where an entire community was ostracized and left alone in their most vulnerable moment. Already shortlisted for the National Book Award and the Carnegie Medal in Fiction, don't be surprised to hear this one winning the Pulitzer Prize in April.

2. Lisa Halliday, Asymmetry (Simon & Schuster)

I did a full review for this already here and it is one of the most contested and talked about books to have been released this year. Told in three seemingly unconnected parts, loosely depicting a relationship a young Halliday had with a much older Phillip Roth in the early 2000s, an Iraqi American being held in London on his way to visit his brother in Iraq, and the Roth character's appearance on a famous BBC radio show, this book is both tender and poignant but also revealing of so much, whether the nature of power dynamics of a relationship like the one depicted but also the disjointed world the early 2000s produced. Not for everyone, but if you connect with it, totally rewarding.

1. Sally Rooney, Normal People (Faber & Faber)

Rooney introduced herself with Conversation With Friends but she confirmed herself as the next big thing with this amazing delve into modern romance, which was criminally not shortlisted for the Man Booker Prize. It is so simply written but don't let that fool you for how deep and profound Rooney's prose is. You will power through this novel and fall in love with both Connell and Marianne and come feeling rejuvenated at the end. Won't be released in Canada and the US until April 2019 but do not hesitate when it does.

2019 Reading Goals

The year is coming to an end and it is time not just to reflect on what I have accomplished as a reader this year, but also what I hope to accomplish next year. So here are some of my 2019 reading goals.

Although 2018 was likely my most productive year reading wise, I found myself compelled to read things I wasn't super interested in, having signed up for some challenge or trying desperately to finish an awards longlist. Toward the end of the year, I tried to focus on what I wanted to read rather than trying to check off books from some list. I don't think I'll get away from that completely (see below) but I definitely want to focus on some diversifying what I read and what determines what I read next.

Firstly, I will not be doing the Book Riot READ HARDER challenge. Every year the folks at the website put together a list of 24 categories aimed at encouraging people to go beyond their comfort zone. Every year I commit to do it, every year I fall short of reading from each of the specific categories. Frankly I don't think the challenge (which this year feels way too specific) encourages me to do what it wants. I already read quite diversely, reading more female authors than male, consciously aiming to read more writer's of colour, queer authors, works in translation etc. I will continue to do so and consciously think about reading diversely when I decide what is next for my eyes.

Secondly, I really want to explore some new genres more aggressively. I am a lover of literary fiction and will continue to gobble it up but I really want to read more crime/mystery, fantasy and science fiction. I am committing to read Kate Atkinson's Jackson Brodie series as well as a bunch of others from the genre on my Kobo. In terms of fantasy, a genre I am totally uncomfortable with, I'll start with Marlon James' much anticipated Black Leopard, Red Wolf, which has been described as the African Game of Thrones. For Science Fiction, we'll see what comes out, but I do hope to finish the Three Body Problem trilogy and maybe tackle some classics like Ursala K. LeGuin.

Another hope is to follow more closely the New York Times Book Review Podcast. I was so impressed with their Top Ten this year and if I had paid closer attention to their weekly show I may have opened these books up sooner. I know, this kind of goes against my no lists goal but maybe if I catch good stuff earlier on I won't be beholden to lists at the end of the year.

One place where I know lists will remain a burden will be for awards. This year I read long and short listed books from the Women's Prize for Fiction, the Man Booker International Prize, the Man Booker Prize, the Giller Prize and the National Book Award. I never pressured myself to read the entire list before the award was handed out and I liked that more relaxed approach. I'll try to repeat this method in 2019.

In terms of this page, I'll try to keep on reviewing the books that really impress me and make regular booktube videos about a variety of topics. We'll see how that works out.

Anyways, here is to another great year in reading!!

My Year In Reading

This has been an eventful year for me. I became a father and introducing a child into life's equation
certainly shook things up. She is wonderful of course but quite dependent. Thankfully I have been able to take a full year off work, and that certainly resulted in more reading time in between naps and diaper changes.

In general this has been a fantastic year. I was introduced to fantastic up and coming authors like Sally Rooney (Normal People) and Lisa Halliday (Asymmetry), as well as blown away by Rebecca Makkai's amazing  social novel about the AIDS epidemic in 1980s Chicago, The Great Believers.

I tried to follow the big awards, the Booker, the Pulitzer, the Women's Prize for Fiction and the National Book Award. I didn't pressure myself to finish the long or shortlists, but was able to read enough to have my favourites or least favourites, as the case may be.

For the first time I decided to tackle the Giller Prize before the award was handed out. I read the entire shortlist and was happy to see Esi Edugyan win her second Giller for the epic Washington Black. It would have been nice to see Eric Dupont's work in translation Songs for the Cold of Heart win, but Eduyan was worthy winner.

I was lucky enough to continue with some great online reader communities (my Pulitzer group) and started making BookTube videos. I am taking a bit of a break from the latter but will hopefully get back to it in the new year, although I must say I prefer blogging. I also was invited to join a great Goodreads group of readers that share my passion and keep up a very intense schedule of group reads and award follows.

I'll try posting a 2019 Reading goals in the next few days. I really want to do somethings differently but we'll see.

Anyways, here are the stats for the year:

Total Books: 125
Fiction: 77
Non Fiction: 27
Graphic Novels: 7
Short Story Collections: 5
Women Authors: 71
POC Authors: 38
Canadian Lit: 15
Works in Translation: 5
Children's Books: 13
DNFs: 4

Asymmetry: A Rare Case of Experimental Fiction That Blew Me Away

I recognize that Lisa Halliday’s Asymmetry is a polarizing novel, that has received both significant praise (see NY Times Top 10 Books of 2018) as well as scorn from those who could not get into it for a variety reasons I understand. That said, there have been few books this year that have impressed me as much both in the quality in writing but the audacity in its choices in form and how these choices made the book’s thematic explorations that much more poignant for me as a reader.

Asymmetry is a book told in three parts.

The first follows Alice, a twenty-something editor who begins an affair with renowned author Ezra Blazer, who is loosely (maybe not so loosely) based on Philip Roth, who Halliday has admitted to having a romantic relationship with in the early 2000s. This is definitely the hook of the book and I imagine many rushed to read the section eager to get the dirt on Roth’s sexual escapades. But we get so much more. Halliday certainly presents a famous author able to use his power and wealth to engender romantic feelings from Alice and at times this power is exerted manipulatively and is expressed condescendingly, but she also presents a very tender, genuine relationship, where Blazer cares deeply for Alice and desperately fears losing her. Halliday is not interested in a hit job but offering an intimate insight into the author, both personally, but also his determination and single mindedness as an author, an insight Halliday stresses in her interviews.

The second part feels incongruous (asymmetrical one could say) and takes its time to catch the reader. Amar is an American-Iraqi travelling back to Iraq in the late 2000s to visit his brother and is held by authorities during a transfer in London. We quickly get taken back through Amar’s past, from being born over American airspace to his many returns to Iraq, witnessing first hand the destruction of the country as a result of the 2003 war that claimed to seek democracy but delivered chaos and death. We get grizzly accounts of the havoc as Amir recounts how he got to where he stood, suffering further indignity at the hands of the power that has destroyed his ancestral home and caused so much pain for his family. While the first section at first appears to be the more intimate and close to Halliday’s self, it is Amar’s story that is told in the first person, offering a depiction of pain and suffering that Alice’s romantic heart-break cannot.

The third part, the coda, is the transcript of an interview on the BBC Desert Island Discs, where a famous person (Ezra Blazer reappearing) offers up their musical desires if they were stranded on a desert island while retelling their life story. While meant to tie things up, Halliday is quite subtle in doing so, allowing Blazer to only give passing insights into the writing process, extolling authors to not force their characters together if not realistic but let their individual stories follow their own destinies. Blazer remains audacious, still eager for romantic hook up, but Halliday does not punish Blazer (or Roth) too much for his lechery, having awarded him the Nobel Prize for Literature (that Roth never won despite coveting it for so long).

So the question then is does Halliday pull off this very ambitious novel that asks the reader to fill in so many blanks, to find the connections, to create the meanings that would allow Asymmetry to exist as a cohesive novel. For me it does and I believe that partly this has to do with the novel situating itself in a time period that was incredibly formative to me, the early to late 2000s. The moment that struck me most was when I was forced to contrast visceral reactions I had to two moments, one in each of the two parts.

The first was an account of Alice and Ezra watching the now infamous American League Championship Series between the Yankees and the Red Sox in 2004, where the Sox came back from three games to none down to upset the Bronx Bombers and eventually go on to win the World Series. Alice, a devout Red Sox fan, is intensely watching the late innings of Game 5 when Ezra asks her to fetch a series of things from the neighbourhood store to deal with some physical discomfort he was experiencing. Alice becomes bitter and when forced to converse with Blazer after she returns she loses her patience. Being a Red Sox fan, who also remembers these moments, I was vicariously angry along with Alice, furious at Blazer’s selfishness, his lack of consideration for what was important to Alice.

The second moment is when Amar is on one of his visits to Iraq between 2005 and 2007. He is surrounded by the bloodshed, the anger of a people boiling over, but also a people fearful to carry on with their lives, worried about kidnappings, bombs, living. I felt a moment of shame both because this dire moment contrasted so much with the triviality of missing a few innings of a playoff game but also because my visceral reaction was greater for Alice’s misfortune than Amar’s. As someone who was actively involved in the anti-war movement in 2003, organizing massive protests to try to stop the invasion, how was it that I felt so distanced from the bloodshed. If the war and its consequences felt like such an abstraction for me, how would others less involved weigh their feelings?  Was it just as Ezra insinuates in his interview that war for Americans (full disclosure I’m Canadian) is just a game, even for those opposed to the conflict?

For me this contrast perfectly encapsulates the asymmetry that Halliday is trying to depict, the stark incongruousness of the experiences that are nonetheless experiences that exist side by side in the current moment of humanity. There are likely several other asymmetry's to be explored here but for me this reading moment sunk me a little and made me appreciate what Halliday was trying to do.

A few more thoughts.

I imagine that if you have not read Philip Roth this book may not connect with you. I am hardly a Rothophile but I have read enough of his work, seen a few documentaries, that the hook of the first story drew me in immediately. I could hear Roth’s cadence in Blazer’s words. I could see his flaws (very much present in his work) in Blazer’s actions. Halliday’s portrayal is neither hitjob nor hagiography so maybe not the kind of hot gossip some hoped, but it is insightful into the mind of an author whose influence continued to permeate in American letters well after his star as a writer had begun to fade. If one does not have a relationship with Roth's work then maybe this fascination does not exist.

Secondly, I also understand why for some the structural choices made by Halliday does not work. I personally am not someone that impressed with experimental fiction, tending to prefer straightforward narratives with deep thematic explorations and emotional punch. Halliday manages to cover these as well as offer a formalistic choice that asks readers to work for meaning, to impose their own narrative structure. That may not work for everyone and maybe the time period the stories are set in helped me do so in ways others could not.

Lastly, the three books I enjoyed most this year (Sally Rooney’s Normal People, Rebecca Makkai’s The Great Believers, and Asymmetry) are fantastic examples of a stripped down writing styles that deliver a lot without being bogged down with overly ornate or descriptive prose. I do not know if this is a new trend, nor do I want to lessen the quality of writing from those with more verbose and adjective filled styles (like Chabon or Whitehead) but I find it refreshing and speaks to how powerful language can be without overdoing it.

Anyways, great work and looking forward to seeing what is next for Halliday.