What I Did, What I Loved 2024
2024 was full of tricks. A tree limb fell on my car, my friends moved away, I got no-fault evicted, canceled a vacation, moved, hurt my knee, hurt my back, dodged layoffs, finally got Covid, canceled another vacation, and lived through that fucking election. It’s one of the worst years in recent memory, and my only solace has been that previous bad years equipped me with enough coping mechanisms to survive it.
But survive it I did. And there were bright spots. I saw the aurora borealis, my new apartment is nice, an old friend moved to town. My novelette, “Where the God-Knives Tread,” was longlisted for the Locus award, British Science Fiction Association award, and The Best American Science Fiction and Fantasy.
Also, I sold a new story. “Drosera regina,” about a woman whose body behaves like a carnivorous plant, will be out next year in Lightspeed. I’m really excited to share it with you.
Overall, however, this one was hard. I started writing this newsletter two days after the election, because I was done with the year, and there are challenging times ahead. But I’m still here. And so are you. That makes it all worth it.
Novels
Tender Is the Flesh by Agustina Bazterrica (translated by Sarah Moses)
This book would fit right into any high school English curriculum, except everyone’s parents would complain. Bazterrica’s tale of industrialized cannibalism is part horror story, part allegory; and while it is chiefly considered an examination of the meat packing industry, it is also a razor sharp commentary on the cultural acceptance of authoritarianism. The book is blessedly brief in both length and description, but the images will haunt you for some time.
Our Wives Under the Sea by Julia Armfield
A brief and beautiful debut about a woman whose wife returns from a deep sea scientific expedition physically and mentally changed. We bounce between the two wives’ perspectives, one on the fateful expedition, and the other awash in pre-grief as she watches her wife fade away in their bathtub. The story soon evolves into an extended metaphor about losing a loved one to prolonged illness. And while it stumbles on the landing, it is still a beautiful read that I highly recommend.
Swamplandia! by Karen Russell
Russell’s debut novel is a beautiful coming-of-age story about a young girl on a mission to save her family’s alligator wrestling show. I found the prose effortless and enjoyable and loved the snatches of Florida history woven throughout. My only critique, which is not a critique at all, is that the book’s cover copy stops purposefully short of the book’s actual story. There is a dark journey here, and it kept me on the edge of my seat with worry for several nights. The book more than earns its Pulitzer finalist status.
Six Four by Hideo Yokoyama (translated by Jonathan Lloyd-Davies)
Sometimes you read the right book at the right time. This Japanese noir takes place over one tense week starting on December 5, which happened to be a few days after I started it. What a delight to read such a dense and enjoyable book, and then get to map it to my own personal passage of time. Common criticism of this work is that it is too slow and weighed down in bureaucracy, but I find its tragedy of manners fascinating and endearing. I loved learning about the intricacies of the Japanese police department and the twist and turns of what felt like very real stakes.
Jonathan Abernathy You Are Kind by Molly McGhee
A man saddled with crushing debt takes a job as a dream cleaner at a predatory corporation. The conceit and prose are both relatively uncomplicated, and I might have found the novel overall unremarkable. But. But. There is a romance at the center of this book that I have thought about ever since I read it. McGee does a stunning job eliciting the feelings of two people afraid to show they are falling in love. A bittersweet intimacy that is so fully realized I am convinced she came up with the love story first and added the dream stuff after. Read it for that alone.
Collections
Cursed Bunny by Bora Chung (translated by Anton Hur)
Chung’s writing has a piquant voice and flavor that makes each story a delicious little bite. She has ghost stories, high fantasy, and some excellent K-horror. My particular favorites are “The Head,” “The Embodiment,” “Home Sweet Home,” and “The Reunion.” I hope to read more of her soon.
Orange World by Karen Russell
Russell’s prose is pretty and slides through the brain like silk, making each story a joy. However, the best stories were those that were upfront about their speculative elements from the get-go (“Black Corfu,” “Orange World”) and less those that revealed such elements later on. I was so content with the realistic situations she wove that I found the sudden appearance of supernatural somethings to be a let down that swerved the enjoyable tale onto a less smooth road. But when she’s good, she’s very good.
Stories
I spent more time with short story collections than individual works, but there were some standouts.
“Grottmata” by Thomas Ha. Another banger from Ha, as though he could ever write a bad one. He somehow fits a New Weird sci-fi noir detective story into about 6000 words, and I loved every bit of it.
“Nettle Tea” by Camilla Grudova. A lovely weird piece about women sent to an institution to expel the physical manifestations of their unrequited longing.
“The Shape of My Name” by Nino Cipri. A few years old, but I adored this time travel story about a trans man and the inheritance of his family’s traveling machine.
TBR
I don’t usually do this, but there were several books I did not get the chance to obtain or finish but wanted to include.
Rakesfall by Vajra Chandrasekera. Following the brilliant Saint of Bright Doors, this time-traveling mindfuck of a novel is high on my list.
Love/Aggression by June Martin. A surreal transfeminine novel about two best friends and rivals.
The Bog Wife by Kay Chronister. Appalachian folk horror about a family blessed/cursed to wed a woman born from their cranberry bog.
Absolution by Jeff VanderMeer. We return to Area X with three prequel novellas.