Before I get to the main topic of today’s newsletter, check out this gorgeous Advance Uncorrected Proof that winged its way across the Atlantic earlier this week. The photo is, in fact, A Place of Our Own right next to our place. (Sadly, not our own.)
I submitted my proofreading tweaks earlier this week, so I’ve officially done what I can for the book itself, and now the focus shifts to letting the world know of its existence. A few people are reading for blurbing purposes, and soon it will be going out to reviewers. I’m both relieved to be done with this phase and (very) anxious to see what readers will think of it.
And speaking of reading … One of my favorite parts of this time of year is getting to learn about the reading habits of complete strangers. And since I often learn about fabulous-sounding books from these lists, the end of the year tends to be full of good reads. I figured I might as well get in on the act.
So far this year, I’ve read 90 books. That doesn’t include books I consulted (usually when doing research for my own book) but didn’t read in full, or books that I used as sleep aids. I know how awful that last term sounds, but there is a category of audiobook that I use as the equivalent of a white-noise machine, something to discourage my mind from cycling in the middle of the night. I can’t use bad books for this purpose—that would aggravate me, so I have to find books that are interesting enough. Some are even good. I spent a month or so falling asleep to Gore Vidal’s United States: Essays 1952-1992, a 1,200-page book that is a 60-hour listen. A few of those essays were stonking, but that book is too long to read/listen to in earnest. (In the introduction to The Selected Essays of Gore Vidal, which runs a mere 480 pages/20 hours, the editor apologizes for issuing such an enormous tome the first time around.)
I’m still working on a few books, including a couple I had to return before I was done (Gary J. Bass’ Judgment at Tokyo, which is fantastic but was messing with my dreams, Felix Salmon’s The Phoenix Economy, which was delightful but hasn’t come back to me yet, and Henry Grabar’s Paved Paradise), so obviously they’re not on the list. I also don’t count adaptations that I listen to on Radio 4’s Book at Bedtime, which was how I experienced R.F. Kuang’s Yellowface and Naoise Dolan’s The Happy Couple, which I really enjoyed.
You can see the whole list here, but I wanted to call out a few for particular mention. These are in the order in which I read them, rather than a ranking.
1 Trailed: One Woman's Quest to Solve the Shenandoah Murders, by Kathryn Miles. I read this almost a year ago, but what sticks with me is the author’s determination to tell the story of two women who were murdered in the Shenandoah National Park as completely as possible. There was once a trend of podcasts demanding everything and every minute of their narrator—effectively the host exchanged their private life for their listeners’ attention and trust. I don’t think journalists should have to burn their boundaries to be listened to. Miles is open about having incinerated her own work-life balance to write this book. I don’t want to celebrate that sacrifice, but … this was such a great book. (The audiobook narration by Gabra Zackman is A++.)
2 Moby Dyke: An Obsessive Quest to Track Down the Last Remaining Lesbian Bars in America, by Krista Burton. OK, I concede a trend is emerging. This book is very funny and full of love for queer institutions, but what set it apart for me was Burton’s willingness to show what was going on behind the scenes. She has a job that she needs to hold onto, so she can’t just go on a madcap jaunt around the country in order to visit the bars, no matter how much she would like to. Instead, she has to group trips in geographic chunks and schedule them when she can get PTO. That lends an element of peril to the narrative—will she get to them all in time?—that only added to my reading pleasure.
3 Portrait of a Thief, by Grace D. Li. A heist novel, a diasporic novel, a campus novel, an art novel. A great read!
4 Prairie Fires: The American Dreams of Laura Ingalls Wilder, by Caroline Fraser. I recommended this book back in August. One of the best books I’ve ever read! (There was a fun moment in a recent episode of Working, when Kristen Meinzer and I spontaneously bonded on our love of Prairie Fires.)
5 Vintage Contemporaries, by Dan Kois. Yes, Dan is a Slate colleague and a pal, but trust me, this is an excellent novel.
6 A Thread of Violence: A Story of Truth, Invention, and Murder, by Mark O’Connell. I have a soft spot for biographies of bad people. O’Connell doesn’t avoid the question of why he’s spending so much time with a murderer—indeed he returns to it again and again—and the answers are fascinating.
7 The Sean Duffy thrillers by Adrian McKinty. There are seven of them, and they’re all great. The audiobooks have the same narrator as the Mick Herron books, which have a similar vibe, which can be a bit discombobulating. (Gerard Doyle’s Northern Irish accent isn’t what you might call audio-realist, but he at least maintains it throughout!)
8 The Fall: The End of Fox News, by Michael Wolff. I read a bunch of books about the press this year—from Ben Smith’s Traffic to Unscripted: The Epic Battle for a Hollywood Media Company, by James B. Stewart and Rachel Abrams. I know that some people question Wolff’s accuracy—and, Jack Shafer please note, I’m not saying I don’t care about that—but it sure made for a wild read!
9 We Were Once a Family: A Story of Love, Death, and Child Removal in America, by Roxanna Asgarian. What an AMAZING book. It is about (but not only about) the case of Jennifer and Sarah Hart, who drove off a cliff, killing themselves and their six adopted children. It could so easily have been exploitative, instead it is a patient and exquisitely researched look at the fostering and adoption system in America, with a special focus on how easily children are removed from Black families. Spectacular.
10 Nine is a weird number, so I’ll add a short book I read last week. For whatever reason, I’ve been on a bit of a John le Carré biography jag—actually, it may have begun with one of those insomnia cures; I figured his letters would be soporific, but they were shockingly interesting and beautifully read by David Harewood and Florence Pugh. This fantastic Australian magazine story led me to Adam Sisman’s The Secret Life of John le Carré, the post-mortem “secret annex” to Sisman’s first JlC biography, which covers the things le Carré manipulated Sisman into omitting from the first one, most of which involve his many affairs.
One last note about my reading list: I have to admit, I’m a smidge embarrassed by some of the books on the list. Not the romance novels—if I’m not embarrassed to read mysteries or thrillers, why would another genre make me blush. No, it’s the self-help/productivity books. I mostly read them for Working Overtime purposes—I’m not a natural advice-giver, so I’m always looking for productivity hacks. Some of the books in that genre are outstanding—for example, Oliver Burkeman’s Four Thousand Weeks—but this year’s crop was a bit of a bust. At least most of them are short!
RECOMMENDATIONS: Look up, people! Well, OK, one suggestion: The Radio 4 Book at Bedtime version of Naoise Dolan’s The Happy Couple blew my mind! The world is so incredibly queer these days!
LISTEN TO ME: On Working, I spoke with reality TV casting director Logan Clark and with the great mystery writer and generally awesome Scot Val McDermid. On Working Overtime, Isaac Butler and I talked about something no creative person should ignore, the impact of all that time at the desk/easel/musical instrument on the body.
Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed this newsletter and want to share it, or were forwarded this edition and want to subscribe, the link is https://buttondown.email/WhereAre. The archives are here. Info on pre-ordering A PLACE OF OUR OWN can be found here.Reply to this email to share any thoughts or ideas.