Part 2: The Year In (and out) Of Reading
I only did one 11 day house-sit in February, accompanied friends for two surgeries and follow-ups, one quite awful and scary, took a relative to the doctor, and saw two doctors multiple times on my own. And I read 11 books, three of which were five star reads, which was quite the change from January when I didn’t really get much thrill from anything.
First was THE FROZEN RIVER, by Ariel Lawhon, which was riveting and scary in that way only books about real events (though novelized here) can be. An 18th century midwife in Maine, in pursuit of justice, defies the legal system and the culture that discounts and denies women. Based on the diaries of real-life historical personage, Martha Ballard, this is a chilling reminder of what we were — and what, it seems, about half of the population of this country wants to be again. Well written, a compelling and fascinating read, and one you won’t soon forget.
Second of my five star reads was BEAUTYLAND, by Marie Helene-Bertino. I hardly need say anything about this as it has made it onto hundreds of lists of notable 2024 books, but damn. It was different in the most amazing way. Speculative literary fiction that was a hoot and just — wow, a woman who receives messages from her extraterrestrial relatives throughout her life and is then urged to share her differences and her messages with the rest of the world. Unique, original, all those words used to say “this doesn’t feel life the MFA approved novels we mostly get”, it explores loneliness, a sense of not belonging, and a longing to find a place and a way in a world in which you often feel out of place.
And finally, third, and one that broke my heart, SONGS ON ENDLESS REPEAT: ESSAYS AND OUTTAKES, by Anthony Veasna So, who died of an accidental drug overdose before his first book was published. This is a collection of his essays and portions of an unfinished novel on which he was working in which three cousins are going to inherit their aunt’s loansharking business. Again, I hardly need go into my raves about this collection as so many others already have done so but oh my, I loved it. He is one of those writers whose sentences are so alive, they make you vibrate with the feeling and the energy they contain. Lots of writing about him focuses on the way he died, or that he was a brilliant new Cambodian/Asian voice, or a new writer of queer perspective — but none of that matters (to me) as much as the beauty of his writing, the urgency of it, the way I felt the “well crap, I want so much more of this writer” as I read him. Argh. Huge loss.
March of 2024 was busy with driving great-nephews to and from work, friends to doctors, myself to doctors, and a housesit here and there. As far as reading went, one highlight, Deanna Raybourn’s delightful heroine, Veronica Speedwell returned for her sixth adventure in A GRAVE ROBBERY. Veronica and Stoker are at it again, and what a treat to have Deanna Raybourn’s signature erudition, wit, and erotic tension propelling a clever and tricky mystery. If you haven’t read this series, you must. It is like visiting a great friend you are in awe of and in love with in equal measure — sort of how I feel about Deanna Raybourn’s novels and her glorious BlueSky presence
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April of 2024 I turned 63. Good lord, even typing that feels like, “Really? I did?” And I did all the things I did every other month — let’s just assume without me boring you that I have done some housesitting and doctor appointments and chaufferring. April also saw visits from family from Florida and California.
As far as reading went, two super-disturbing books were five-star reads for me, but not ones I’d recommend to most people I know because the subject matter and character actions and interactions are disturbing to the point of discomfort.
The first was TAMPA, by Alissa Nutting, and it was brought to my attention by a writer I very much admire, Garth Greenwell, who cited it as a novel in which writing about sex was remarkable. True enough. Celeste Price is a middle-school teacher who is an ephebophile, and her pursuit and capture of young teen boys is explicit and unrelieved. This is sort of along the lines of AMERICAN PSYCHO in that it is well written (actually far better written than AP) and intentionally disturbing. It might be called satirical, it might be called an exploration of the American hypocrisy in which sex is both saturating the culture at every level, and, at the same time, decried and condemned. I have a lot of thoughts, most of which would require thousands of words to make clear, and even then, I might not be able to get across what I mean without offending, and so, like I said, I turned 63 and I’m not interested in those arguments.
Second in the loved it but hated it category was WOLF AT THE TABLE. In this it wasn’t sex, but violence, and the yearning for unconditional love, especially familial love, and its pages are one long sustained keening. Beautifully written and modulated, but it will leave you gutted. And who needs that right now?
In May I only read four books. But I saw Patti LuPone at the Kennedy Center and who needs to read when you have a Patti concert on the schedule? But I did, and one five-star read was YOUNG SKINS, a short story/novella collection that was Colin Barrett’s debut from 2013 (I think). Set in (mostly) the same Irish pub and exploring the loves and lives and troubles of (mostly) disaffected young people, this was pretty brilliant. I found myself sympathizing with, pitying, and lusting after characters. It was vibrantly in the moment with every word and breath of its sentences. Real. Powerful. And I am still thinking about some of the stories all these months later.
I also read LADY DERRING TAKES A LOVER, which is the first in The Palace of Rogues series by Julie Anne Long. There are 8. I have read 4. And intend to read them all. Delilah Swanpoole, Countess of Derring, learns her dead husband was having a long term affair with Angelique Breedlove, and the two ladies bond over his perfidy and start a boarding house together and — this is some delightful and happily ever after reading to which I go on the regular and will be sorry when I have no more. Luckily, there is no dearth of Regency Romance series which are well written, compellingly plotted, great reads, with characters you come to consider friends.
Okay, I’ve done it again. Gone over 1000 words. So, I’ll get to June through December in furture installments. And Happy Winter Holidays. And here I am, going.