100 years of books
and solitude to read said books
This week, the (failing) New York Times Book Review is incrementally publishing their top 100 books of the 21st century. They’re also showing the “ballots” of cultural influencers like Stephen King (who, in a move I deeply respect, put one of his own books on his) and Sarah Jessica Parker (who I guess … has a say in the literary world?). Someone started a trend where bookstagrammers published their own ballots, and I couldn’t resist the opportunity to share mine.
Allow me some space to explain my choices. I swapped out several books and made a few decisions at the last moment. I felt it was important to acknowledge the immense cultural impact some of these books have made while also staying faithful to my own tastes.
In that sense, some were no-brainers, namely Conversations with Friends, Say Nothing, In The Dream House, and A Little Life. Sally Rooney and Hanya Yanagihara are polarizing authors, but they are brilliant writers, and regardless of your own opinion, you can’t deny the influence they’ve had on popular culture. Three Women probably falls into this as well, since it’s an acclaimed and amazing work of narrative nonfiction, but I know many people aren’t crazy about Lisa Taddeo.
I suspect that others might have different John Boyne and Fredrik Backman books in their lineup based on what’s most popular. But I had to adhere to my own faith here despite choosing popular authors. You know how I feel about The Heart’s Invisible Furies; it’s a brilliant work of fiction that just fell into my life at the exact right time and I firmly believe it’s one of the best books published this century even if I don’t always see it referenced as such. And I had a really hard time picking which Backman I wanted to place in here. Anxious People is simply phenomenal, and I love it exactly as much (maybe even an iota more if I was thinking about what I’d reread first) as Beartown, but Beartown is incredibly executed in its plot, subject matter, and tone, and feels deeply important.
I saw that most people putting their ballot together wrote My Brilliant Friend as a stand-in for the entire Neapolitan Novel series. I thought about doing this, and my thinking was also to pay homage to the series as a whole as it’s really just one massive, epic book, but The Story of the Lost Child just DID things to me and I would be disingenuous if I didn’t call it out specifically. And, in a twist I didn’t expect because I never agree with that fuckass rag on anything, the NYT agreed with me and Lost Child is on their list. Vindication!
Looking for Alaska and Bad Feminist weren’t on my radar at all until just before I finalized my list. I was trying to think of books that have stuck with me all my life. I knew both a young adult novel and book of essays absolutely had to be included. Looking for Alaska is a book I think about all the time, one that so brilliantly appeals to youth and adults and is written so sensationally yet simply, and it deserves its flowers. And while I’m partial to Roxane Gay’s short story collection Difficult Women — which I had in until the last minute — the cultural impact Bad Feminist had on the world and myself is pretty unmatched.
Anyway, those are my takes. There are plenty o’ books I almost included but didn’t (check out my newsletter on my favorite books and you’ll see what they were). Hooray! When the whole list comes out, I’ll give it a little looksee and analysis, but so far, I’m obviously very happy with their inclusion of Lost Child, as well as Detransition, Baby and Demon Copperhead. The Vegetarian and Small Things Like These are also very well written, even if they weren’t totally my cup of tea, so I was glad to see them there as well.
Incidentally, fuck the New York Times for their direct complicity in the murder of hundreds of thousands of Palestinians. If calling them the Failing New York Times became illegal, you’d have to throw me in jail (something I fear nears ever closer in this society in which we are becoming increasingly censored. uh oh). Linked here is a highlight on my instagram with all the donation links I’ve come across for Palestinians in dire need. From the river to the sea.
reads
reviews
I went into More with pretty low expectations. A rich white couple in Park Slope experimenting with sleeping with other people? I don’t know. Sounds like someone cashing in on the new age of a gentrified, faux-radical Brooklyn.
Somehow, however, this memoir is far, far more than that. More! The title. Get it? Yes, it is about a well-off couple experimenting with their marriage. But the book is really far-reaching, examining every nook and cranny of the good and the bad and the weird and the gross of polyamory. Winter doesn’t shy away from painting both herself and her husband in complicated and often pretty unflattering lights. It’s far from glamorous — there is an equal chance you’ll could come out of it thinking, huh, I get why open relationships are so appealing OR wow, this sounds awful and exhausting, let’s stick with monogamy. And I think that’s pretty cool!
One of my favorite works of fiction published in the past few years is Rachel Yoder’s Nightbitch, a surreal and hilarious novel where a stay-at-home mom’s angst at her circumstances manifests into her occasionally turning into a dog. Weirdly, More feels like the nonfiction version of that. At its core, it’s really about Winter’s discontent (winter of our discontent, ha ha ha) with her life, her deep insecurities and need to get validation from her relationships, and her deep resentment of her husband for not taking an equal role in raising their children. It gets really intense; scenes where the pair are in couple’s therapy are pretty raw. And Winter’s relationship with her husband mirrors her mother’s relationship with her father, which adds an extra element to the story.
It’s really fascinating how through pursuing an open relationship, despite its difficulties and heartache, Winter goes on a path of true self-discovery entirely unrelated to gratifying her partner. Even though the men on her journey are key characters, the tale, is, at its core, about her.
Of course, the story has its limits. There are parts where you are exhausted by the couple. While many of the explicit sex scenes are necessary, they do eventually get a little tiresome and don’t add much to the story. It is, obviously, really heteronormative, and while I think it can speak to people of marginalized genders of all relationship situations, I don’t think Winter does as much as she could to acknowledge the particulars of her situation, though it is, obviously, a deeply personal and vulnerable story.
At the end of the day, this is a lot more of an interesting and well-written story than I thought it would be. It’s culturally relevant and speaks to a certain moment in society; but it’s also just a complex and fantastic portrait of its author and the world around her. I’d really recommend it. 4.4/5 stars.
My first jaunt into Ferrante’s works post-Neapolitan Novels was, I’m happy to report, a successful one. It’s been well over a year since I delved into her world since, as stated above, Lost Child did a real fucking number on me.
The Lying Life of Adults is a different story set in pretty much the same place with a lot of the same themes of the Neapolitan Novels. It follows the teenage years of Giovanna, who overhears her father calling her ugly and goes down a crazy spiral where she unravels her family history and secrets and bonds with her ostracized aunt and learns that … adults LIE!
I really enjoyed this one. It started off a little slow, but as is Ferrante’s MO, it ramps up pretty quickly, and I was quite absorbed. Like to the Neapolitan Novels, the plot is very grounded, trekking in the mundane, which makes it a perfect setting for the escalating tensions in Giovanna’s family. It all feels so beautifully and horrifyingly real.
The novel, of course, is beautifully written, and the plot is paced very well. I always close a Ferrante book in a bit of a daze. She lays out the intimacies of a young girl’s thoughts and insecurities and development pretty brilliantly. I loved watching Giovanna develop into an angsty teen; we tow the line of feeling empathy for her because her family’s mistakes clearly fucked her up while also being empathetic to her parents and their suffering. I think anyone could read this and be like, yeah, I grew up like that, too.
I did think some aspects of the story felt a little all over the place. Giovanna’s fascination and relationship with her aunt, in particular, never totally came together for me despite its purported importance to the tale. I understand why their connection is important; however, the aunt’s character felt a little too cartoony for the world in which this is set, if that makes sense. I kind of preferred when she wasn’t around and Giovanna was dealing with other stuff. I’d really love to know what you thought if you’ve read it because this was a real sticking point for me!!!
Despite this, I found this to be another stellar showing by Ferrante. The crushing realities associated with growing up balanced with the levity provided by our rebellious main character make for something very special. Next up to bat: The Lost Daughter. prayers! 4.4/5 stars.
I literally just, like, a few hours ago, finished Love Junkie, a classic novel by Robert Plunket (originally published in the early 90s, it was republished this year) taking place in New York at the onset of the AIDS crisis. It’s told through the perspective of a hysterical housewife who ingratiates herself with the gay male community and then falls in love with a porn star, which is a hilarious premise.
This was entertaining enough and certainly cleverly written. However, I was not invested in any of the characters nor the plot. To be fair, it wasn’t written for me. It certainly appeals more to someone with an appreciation for New York in the 80s and that general aesthetic, which I do not have. Many cultural references went over my head, which I’m sure I would have found funny had I understood them.
There is plenty of humor to be found throughout, especially in Mimi’s depiction as a clueless idiot in life and especially her naiveté among the gay male elite. There are pockets of the plot I was excited by. And the more I reflect on it, the funnier I think the commentary is, and I understand why we’re not really supposed to connect with anyone involved on a deeper level. But it also felt strangely paced, with no room for any real understanding of the characters or their relationships to each other. The book just never came together for me in a memorable or meaningful way.
I’d be interested in reading another Plunket, because he’s a sharp writer. And this is a classic for a reason, I’m sure — just not totally my cup of tea. Oh well. 3.3/5 stars.
currently
I’m about halfway through On Earth As It Is On Television and I simply cannot figure out where this story is going. The premise is that a bunch of alien spaceships show up and then disappear without warning and throws everyone into an existential tizzy of sorts. We’re following three different characters, and I’m generally invested in them and the book as a whole, but I just am not particularly wowed by anything yet. The stories feel very disparate from one another and haven’t really ramped up to a point where I understand why they’re being told simultaneously and what the entire concept of the novel is really supposed to be. I’m not bored by any means, and it’s good that I’m curious about where things are going, but I think we need more of a through-line. Right now, there’s a lot going on with not a lot of forward momentum. I will report back once finished.
Just books this week! Wow! Am I a good bookfluencer? Well, no, I don’t think I’ve read even twenty books this year and several of the ones I’ve read include the Eragon series. But you don’t follow me because I’m well-read, right? That’s not the whole point of this newsletter, right???? ha ha ha.