Over the last couple of years I’ve been invited to give talks at libraries and to readers’ groups about creative choices and how I work. At the end of the talks, during the Q&A, I’m usually asked what I like to read. Because it’s what I write, fiction is what I prefer. It’s important to see what others in the field are doing. As to genres, I explore them all.
Friends often push their favorites at me; and just as I often I wonder if it’s because misery wants company. For instance, several women over the years have told me that my literary education is incomplete until I’ve read (and blitheringly adored) Love in the Time of Cholera. So a year ago I picked it up. Oh dear God, what a slog; what a yawn. Because of course I wanted to be perceived as literate, I forced myself to stick it out ’til the end; but I don’t know a single person I dislike enough to recommend it to, which makes me question the affection of those who recommended it to me.
As to the books I’ve read and enjoyed in the last couple of years, I’m making a list, which I’m breaking into categories—literary, meaning relevant to the human condition; and entertaining, which is self-explanatory. The order is as they appear on my Kindle—it doesn’t have anything to do with level of liking. Honestly, I’ve enjoyed them all. Here it is:
LITERARY:
Valentine by Elizabeth Wetmore. The background is the oil boom in the Midland/Odessa area. The plot is based on women going through their dramas—death, unhappy marriages, abuse, alcoholism. While the connected stories aren’t unexpected, the writing is lyrical and evocative. I never thought I’d get shivers reading prose about the dry ground and barbed wire in West Texas. Thought-provoking, intense, not merry.
Trust Exercise by Susan Choi. Won the National Book Award. Of interest is that it’s centered around the School of the Performing Arts in Houston. Though the author doesn’t identify it by name, I recognized it, which was kind of fun. The premise is how, in pursuit of “art,” the social and ethical lines between instructors and students are likely to become blurred. Another one that’s thought-provoking and not merry.
Nothing to See Here by Kevin Wilson. Well, this was unusual. The story about a young woman who’s hired to be the nanny to a couple of rich children who occasionally burst into flames. Not long, easy to read, humorous with an applicable life lesson.
The World that We Knew by Alice Hoffman. I love her writing and have read everything she’s ever written. I would’ve thought twice, though, if I’d read the blurb. I guess she felt she wouldn’t be taken seriously until she conquered the Holocaust novel. I’ve read so many books about the Holocaust that I assumed there simply wasn’t anything left to be said—however, it’s Hoffman’s style to veer from reality, and the misery of the Holocaust takes a backseat when golems and heartbroken storks come in to play.
Milkman by Anna Burns. Booker Prize 2018. Told in first person, spunky character, narrated in an odd dialect that’s meant to indicate “elsewhere.” Set in an oppressive society where factions are constantly fighting, friends rat on friends, beauty is elusive, and suspicion is the primary emotion. Depressing but ultimately uplifting. The writing stunned me. Wow.
There There by Tommy Orange. The subject is Native Americans. It explores the backgrounds of several characters before and during a national powwow. The quality of the writing is superb, but I was sad for days after finishing it. It will, however, make you think about the current lives and mindsets of our native population, which is definitely worth consideration.
A Gentleman in Moscow by Amor Towles. After the Bolshevik revolution a young count is arrested for writing a seditious poem. Receiving special treatment because of his aristocratic background, he’s sentenced to never setting foot outside of a luxurious hotel for the remainder of his life. The novel is about his adventures, his friends, and his loves, all set in the closed-off environment. Easy to read, skillfully written, uplifting.
Lincoln in the Bardo by George Saunders. This is not easy. In fact, an interpreter would help. But it’s intriguing enough to make it worth the effort. In a nutshell: Lincoln’s son has died and is hanging out in purgatory with a bunch of bizarre souls while Lincoln mourns tombside.
LaRose by Louise Erdrich. Anything by Erdrich is worth reading, but she doesn’t tell lighthearted stories. Her subject is always the Ojibwa Indians. LaRose is based on the accidental shooting of a child and the tribal tradition of the man who took the life offering his own son as a replacement. It was painful.
ENTERTAINMENT:
The Extraordinary Life of Sam Hell by Robert Dugoni. Actually not fiction, but enjoyable and inspirational. Based on the life of a kid who’s born with no pigment in his irises, which causes his eyes to look red and prompts others to call him Devil Boy. His mother was a hero. If you’re down, this is the book for you.
City of Girls by Elizabeth Gilbert. Sometimes it’s just fun to read a story. This is about the experiences of a seamstress/costumer during the early days of Broadway. Salacious, compelling, well written. I guess you could find depth if that’s your goal.
Sacrifice by Sharon Bolton. Thriller with a twist. I have four of her novels on my Kindle and they’re all thrillers with a twist. I’ve enjoyed each of them, so if you like the genre and you’re looking for a new author to follow, give her a try. British, so her writing is, you know, from “over there.”
Before the Fall by Noah Hawley. A definitively human story about the aftermath of a plane crash and the resulting relationship between the two survivors—a good man and the child he manages to rescue. Easy to read, not insultingly shallow, satisfying ending.
Pretty Things by Janelle Brown. For a tale about a thief, her con-artist boyfriend, and their victim, this was surprisingly stylishly written. Set primarily in a mansion on Lake Tahoe, it deals with the inherent angst between haves and have-nots. Until the last few chapters I honestly had no idea where it was going. A triumphant ending and an endearing main character.
We Need to Talk About Kevin by Lionel Shriver. This one will stay with me forever. Over the years I’ve waffled between blaming and feeling compassion for the parents of mass murdering minors. Well, this gives an intriguing slant. A harrowing page-turner. I was all “Make it stop!” through the whole thing. But it made me think.
You by Caroline Kepnes. What’s most interesting to me, as a writer, is that the whole novel is written in second person. Very accusatory, like it’s the victim’s fault that the guy went crazy and locked her in a cage in the basement. A fast easy read.
Circe by Madeline Miller. A fresh and sympathetic retelling of an old tale. The inspired quality of the writing was unexpected. Turning those pigs into pigs—good for you, Circe, good for you.
Beartown by Fredrik Backman. If ever a writer set out to write a US bestseller, it’s this guy, who’s actually Swedish. He deliberately included every current hot American issue—local politics, sports, rape, coming out gay in a town dominated by manly men. Oh, it’s absolutely contrived. But it worked and I loved it. If you haven’t read it I guarantee you’ll enjoy it.
So, there it is. This is less than a tenth of what I’ve read in the last two years, but I also read a lot of crap that I’ll never admit to. Each of these books have added to my life in one way or another and that’s why I’ve recommended them. Happy reading!
A few of my favorites. As a humorist, my own writing has been heavily influenced by these authors. If you like them you’ll like me.
