Books Read in 2019: Five-Star Fiction, Non-Fiction and Short Stories

Monday mornings are always a little painful because I stay up way too late and never sleep well and Monday is my early work day. It's a bit of a pleasant surprise, though, that they're only a little painful. I don't love dragging myself out of bed, but by the time I'm in the library booting up my computer I am perfectly happy to be there. I don't have any classes I don't like, but my favourite on Monday is the last of the day, which is nice because I always go out on a good note. The kids are engaged and ask about books a lot and are very sweet and grateful. Everyone has trouble pronouncing my name, which is both weird and not when I look at it, and this teacher has made her students practice it until they say thank-you perfectly.

Also, if you want to feel powerful and work in a kids' library? Choose books to face out at the end of the shelves. It's like they can't resist anything with a full cover showing. Almost every single book I face out will be checked out by the end of the day. I have to work not to get too caught up in it, in a 'with great power comes great responsibility' way, or I spend way too long deliberating about what gets put out this week.

Last book round-up post, wherein I feel a fairly immense sense of accomplishment and a bit at loose ends about what I will blog about now.

Fiction

The Magic Mountain by Thomas Mann. Synopsis from Goodreads: In this dizzyingly rich novel of ideas, Mann uses a sanatorium in the Swiss Alps, a community devoted exclusively to sickness, as a microcosm for Europe, which in the years before 1914 was already exhibiting the first symptoms of its own terminal irrationality. The Magic Mountain is a monumental work of erudition and irony, sexual tension and intellectual ferment, a book that pulses with life in the midst of death.

Whew. This was the first Big Classic I attacked this year. As with Middlemarch, I started it with dogged determination and took a bit before I fell into the rhythm. I found it quite a bit less accessible than Middlemarch, though. It's a Novel of Ideas, and some of those ideas were a bit beyond me. There were characters that stood in for certain ideologies - humanism, radicalism, the Dionysian principle etc. - which doesn't really float my boat overly, and not just because I would read their long-winded musings over and over again without quite comprehending them. At one point the narrative lapses into French for several pages without any translation. I limped along gamely for most of it, but it really brought home that this book is kind of a "can't get there from here" thing for me. 

I gave this five-stars not in the more traditional (for me) meaning of "I loved it beyond all words", but in the literal "it was amazing" sense. It's amazing to me that Mann plotted this all out and wrangled it (over some twelve years) into a cohesive whole - what an enormous accomplishment. 

Because I was so unfamiliar with the traditions of this kind of novel-writing, I was sort of confused by what was happening - Hans Castorp goes to visit his cousin at a tuberculosis sanatorium before beginning his work, but just as he's about to leave it's discovered that he also needs treatment, in a manner that seemed slightly sinister, but I don't think it was. 

Then there's the fact that the novel makes sanatorium life sound positively blissful. There are sumptuous meals. There is mountain walking. There are hours of reading in the world's most comfortable chairs on balconies for hours in the evening, with fur blankets when the weather is cold (sign me the fuck up!) It sounds like resort living with a touch of fever. But I've had the flu twice and I know this isn't really true - it's not possible to enjoy this kind of thing when you feel like your lungs are shredding themselves in your chest. I understand that the realities of t.b. are not really the point, but it irritates me that Mann makes it sound so idyllic.

I don't have it in me to do the extensive quote pull-out for this one, but I really have to give you this one on how much Hans Castorp's bewilderingly extreme - one might even say unseemly - fondness for his Maria Mancini cigars. This follows his cousin Joachim's declaration that he's never smoked. 

"'I don't understand it,' Hans Castorp said. 'I never understand how anybody can not smoke -- it deprives a man of the best part of life, so to speak -- or at least of a first-class pleasure. When I wake in the morning, I feel glad at the thought of being able to smoke all day, and when I eat, I look forward to smoking afterwards; I might almost say I only eat for the sake of being able to smoke -- though of course that is more or less of an exaggeration. But a day without tobacco would be flat, stale, and unprofitable, as far as I am concerned. If I had to say to myself tomorrow: 'No smoke to-day' -- I believe I shouldn't find the courage to get up -- on my honour, I'd stop in bed. But when a man has a good cigar in his mouth -- of course it mustn't have a side draught or not draw well, that is extremely irritating -- but with a good cigar in his mouth a man is perfectly safe, nothing can touch him -- literally. It's just like lying on the beach: when you lie on the beach, why you life on the beach, don't you? -- you don't require anything else, in the line of work or amusement either. --People smoke all over the world, thank goodness; there is nowhere one could get to, so far as I know, where the habit hasn't penetrated. Even polar expeditions fit themselves out with supplies of tobacco to help them carry on. I've always felt a thrill of sympathy when I read that. You can be very miserable: I might be feeling perfectly wretched, for instance; but I could always stand it if I had my smoke.'"

Whew. All I could think (besides "seriously, are we going with 'a cigar is just a cigar' here?") is thank goodness the man never married.

Salvage the Bones by Jesmyn Ward. Synopsis from Goodreads: Winner of the 2011 National Book Award for Fiction
A hurricane is building over the Gulf of Mexico, threatening the coastal town of Bois Sauvage, Mississippi, and Esch's father is growing concerned. A hard drinker, largely absent, he doesn't show concern for much else. Esch and her three brothers are stocking food, but there isn't much to save. Lately, Esch can't keep down what food she gets; she's fourteen and pregnant. Her brother Skeetah is sneaking scraps for his prized pitbull's new litter, dying one by one in the dirt, while brothers Randall and Junior try to stake their claim in a family long on child's play and short on parenting. As the twelve days that comprise the novel's framework yield to the final day and Hurricane Katrina, the unforgettable family at the novel's heart—motherless children sacrificing for each other as they can, protecting and nurturing where love is scarce—pulls itself up to struggle for another day. A wrenching look at the lonesome, brutal, and restrictive realities of rural poverty, "Salvage the Bones" is muscled with poetry, revelatory, and real.

I swear I don't only give five stars to books that are overwhelmingly sad. I just happened to have read a few books this year that are both luminously gorgeously written and, incidentally, about horrifyingly sorrowful circumstances. This happened to be one of them. It's not tragedy porn, it's just an incredibly evocative slice of life that makes personal something that is often only understood in general terms. 

We Are All Completely Beside Ourselves by Karen Joy Fowler. Synopsis from Goodreads: Meet the Cooke family. Our narrator is Rosemary Cooke. As a child, she never stopped talking; now that she's started college, she has wrapped herself in silence: the silence of intentional forgetting, of protective cover. Rosemary is now an only child, but she used to have a sister the same age as her, and an older brother. Both are now gone—vanished from her life. Her once lively mother is a shell of her former self, her clever and imperious father now a distant, brooding man. And there was something unique about Rosemary's sister, Fern.
You'll have to find out for yourself what it is that makes her unhappy family unlike any other. 

I had read about this years ago, which sort of spoiled one of the main surprises, but that didn't really matter. I loved this. It's rare to find such a riveting story coupled with such beautiful writing - if I read with a highlighter, I would have been highlighting every second sentence. Family dynamics, the ethics of scientific research, all manner of dysfunction, quirky characters, dark screwball comedy and inconsolable grief - it's all in here. It made me wonder why I haven't read everything Fowler has written. 

Freak the Mighty by Rodman Philbrick. Synopsis from Goodreads: Two boys – a slow learner stuck in the body of a teenage giant and a tiny Einstein in leg braces – forge a unique friendship when they pair up to create one formidable human force. A wonderful story of triumph over imperfection, shame, and loss.

This may be the best book as far as impact-to-page-number-ratio I've ever read. It's so slight, and so packed with insight and revelation. Every character gets their due, even ones that seem like they might just be types upon first introduction - Grim, Gram, Iggy, Loretta. Max's description of how he is imprisoned by his oversized body and his family history is wonderful, and the way he describes Kevin is perfect. I cried a lot. Non-Fiction

Love Lives Here: a Story of Thriving in a Transgender Family by Amanda Jette Knox. Synopsis from Goodreads: An inspirational story of accepting and embracing two trans people in a family--a family who shows what's possible when you "lead with love."
All Amanda Jett� Knox ever wanted was to enjoy a stable life. She never knew her biological father, and while her mother and stepfather were loving parents, the situation was sometimes chaotic. At school, she was bullied mercilessly, and at the age of fourteen, she entered a counselling program for alcohol addiction and was successful.
While still a teenager, she met the love of her life. They were wed at 20, and the first of three children followed shortly. Jett� Knox finally had the stability she craved--or so it seemed. Their middle child struggled with depression and avoided school. The author was unprepared when the child she knew as her son came out as transgender at the age of eleven. Shocked, but knowing how important it was to support her daughter, Jett� Knox became an ardent advocate for trans rights.
But the story wasn't over. For many years, the author had coped with her spouse's moodiness, but that chronic unhappiness was taking a toll on their marriage. A little over a year after their child came out, her partner also came out as transgender. Knowing better than most what would lie ahead, Jett� Knox searched for positive examples of marriages surviving transition. When she found no role models, she determined that her family would become one.
The shift was challenging, but slowly the family members noticed that they were becoming happier and more united. Told with remarkable candour and humour, and full of insight into the challenges faced by trans people, Love Lives Here is a beautiful story of transition, frustration, support, acceptance, and, of course, love.

This kept me up until four in the morning even though I know how it ends - if that's not the hallmark of a great book, I don't know what is. If you know Amanda, it can be easy to forget that she has, not to put too fine a point on it, Gone Through Some Shit, even before her daughter and her wife came out as trans. This is an unflinchingly honest, unapologetic, hilarious, heartwrenching, clear-eyed account of a bunch of that shit. I guess coming through the fires of horrific bullying, adolescent addiction, sexual trauma, then finding out two of your family members were assigned the wrong gender at birth must really season the soul. As a long-time reader of Amanda's blog, I knew that she could write. As a fairly long-time friend, I knew that she was a big-hearted, generous woman. This book roundly confirms both of those things. She's neither naive nor cowed in the face of all the hate that is out there, much of it directed at her and her family daily. She just realizes that, for the most part, living well - and having the wittiest quips on social media - is the best revenge.

A Good Wife: Escaping the Life I Never Chose by Samra Zafar. Synopsis from Goodreads: She faced years of abuse after arriving in Canada as a teenage bride in a hastily arranged marriage, but nothing could stop Samra Zafar from pursuing her dreams
 At 15, Samra Zafar had big dreams for herself. She was going to go to university, and forge her own path. Then with almost no warning, those dreams were pulled away from her when she was suddenly married to a stranger at 17 and had to leave behind her family in Pakistan to move to Canada. Her new husband and his family promised that the marriage and the move would be a fulfillment of her dream, not a betrayal of it. But as the walls of their home slowly became a prison, Samra realized the promises were empty ones.
In the years that followed she suffered her husband’s emotional and physical abuse that left her feeling isolated, humiliated and assaulted. Desperate to get out, and refusing to give up, she hatched an escape plan for herself and her two daughters. Somehow she found the strength to not only build a new future, but to walk away from her past, ignoring the pleas of her family and risking cultural isolation by divorcing her husband.
But that end was only the beginning for Samra. Through her academic and career achievements, she has gone on to become a mentor and public speaker, connecting with people around the world from isolated women in situations similar to her own, to young schoolgirls in Kenya who never allowed themselves to dream to men making the decisions to save for their daughters’ educations instead of their dowries.  A Good Wife tell her harrowing and inspiring story, following her from a young girl with big dreams, through finding strength in the face of oppression and then finally battling through to empowerment.

I'm sort of embarrassed to admit that I had heard about this book and felt a little dismissive, partly because it was so "popular" (that was snobby) and partly because it would most likely be difficult to read. Then I realized that I should freaking well make myself read it, because reading it wouldn't be a millionth as difficult as living it, and having a reminder that this kind of thing still goes on far too often is no bad thing. It is hard to read, of course - you go from being gutted with sadness to shaking with anger, all while reading breathlessly to see how she did "escape". She writes so insightfully and intelligently about how she became trapped in a horrible situation, even coming from a progressive family. It's a wonderful, important book, and I'm glad I got over myself enough to read it.

The Art of Travel by Alain de Botton. Synopsis from Goodreads: Any Baedeker will tell us where we ought to travel, but only Alain de Botton will tell us how and why. With the same intelligence and insouciant charm he brought to How Proust Can Save Your Life, de Botton considers the pleasures of anticipation; the allure of the exotic, and the value of noticing everything from a seascape in Barbados to the takeoffs at Heathrow.
Even as de Botton takes the reader along on his own peregrinations, he also cites such distinguished fellow-travelers as Baudelaire, Wordsworth, Van Gogh, the biologist Alexander von Humboldt, and the 18th-century eccentric Xavier de Maistre, who catalogued the wonders of his bedroom. The Art of Travel is a wise and utterly original book. Don’t leave home without it.

Oh my freaking god I loved this. It's on our book club list so I borrowed it from my friend who recommended it, but I've already ordered my own copy. I don't for a moment think that everyone will love it this much, but it's amazing to me because he's captured so many of the things I've thought about travel but articulated them brilliantly. He soars from the most minute of details to the most expansive conclusions, without arrogance or mawkishness. He synthesizes a large body of examples and illustrations into a series of tightly focused yet expansively expressed reflections. I couldn't stop reading it, which almost never happens for me with non-fiction.

Short Stories

Exhalation: Stories by Ted Chiang. Synopsis from Goodreads: From an award-winning science fiction writer (whose short story "The Story of Your Life" was the basis for the Academy Award-nominated movie Arrival), the long-awaited new collection of stunningly original, humane, and already celebrated short stories
This much-anticipated second collection of stories is signature Ted Chiang, full of revelatory ideas and deeply sympathetic characters. In "The Merchant and the Alchemist's Gate," a portal through time forces a fabric seller in ancient Baghdad to grapple with past mistakes and the temptation of second chances. In the epistolary "Exhalation," an alien scientist makes a shocking discovery with ramifications not just for his own people, but for all of reality. And in "The Lifecycle of Software Objects," a woman cares for an artificial intelligence over twenty years, elevating a faddish digital pet into what might be a true living being. Also included are two brand-new stories: "Omphalos" and "Anxiety Is the Dizziness of Freedom."
In this fantastical and elegant collection, Ted Chiang wrestles with the oldest questions on earth—What is the nature of the universe? What does it mean to be human?—and ones that no one else has even imagined. And, each in its own way, the stories prove that complex and thoughtful science fiction can rise to new heights of beauty, meaning, and compassion.

I discovered Ted Chiang when I read The Story of Your Life (several times), which was then made into the movie Arrival. I then resolved to read all the Ted Chiang stories I could find. A lot of them are harder sci-fi than I usually like, but somehow he strikes the perfect balance between cerebral and soul-stirring.


Laughter at the Academy by Seanan McGuire. Synopsis from Goodreads: From fairy tale forest to gloomy gothic moor, from gleaming epidemiologist’s lab to the sandy shores of Neverland, Seanan McGuire’s short fiction has been surprising, delighting, confusing, and transporting her readers since 2009. Now, for the first time, that fiction has been gathered together in one place, ready to be enjoyed one twisting, tangled tale at a time. Her work crosses genres and subverts expectations.
Meet the mad scientists of “Laughter at the Academy” and “The Tolling of Pavlov’s Bells.” Glory in the potential of a Halloween that never ends. Follow two very different alphabets in “Frontier ABCs” and “From A to Z in the Book of Changes.” Get “Lost,” dress yourself “In Skeleton Leaves,” and remember how to fly. All this and more is waiting for you within the pages of this decade-spanning collection, including several pieces that have never before been reprinted. Stories about mermaids, robots, dolls, and Deep Ones are all here, ready for you to dive in.
This is a box of strange surprises dredged up from the depths of the sea, each one polished and prepared for your enjoyment. So take a chance, and allow yourself to be surprised.

Yes, that is five Seanan McGuire (writing as herself or Mira Grant) this year, and three of them in the five-star lineup - unapologetic fangirl, get used to it. I was excited to see this anthology, but I've read so many McGuire stories in so many mixed anthologies that I expected I would have seen many of them before. Then I discovered that I hadn't seen the majority of them, and remembered that McGuire is one of the most insanely prolific writers ever. There is a marvellous range of weirdness here - dark urban legends, twisted fairy tales, sinister science stuff - all with the usual sharp and haunting prose. 

Six Months, Three Days, Five Others by Charlie Jane Anders. Synopsis from Goodreads: -A master absurdist...Highly recommended.- --The New York Times
Before the success of her debut SF-and-fantasy novel All the Birds in the Sky, Charlie Jane Anders was a rising star in SF and fantasy short fiction. Collected in a mini-book format, here--for the first time in print--are six of her quirky, wry, engaging best:
In -The Fermi Paradox Is Our Business Model, - aliens reveal the terrible truth about how humans were created--and why we'll never discover aliens.
-As Good as New- is a brilliant twist on the tale of three wishes, set after the end of the world.
-Intestate- is about a family reunion in which some attendees aren't quite human anymore--but they're still family.
-The Cartography of Sudden Death- demonstrates that when you try to solve a problem with time travel, you now have two problems.
-Six Months, Three Days- is the story of the love affair between a man who can see the one true foreordained future, and a woman who can see all the possible futures. They're both right, and the story won the 2012 Hugo Award for Best Novelette.
And -Clover, - exclusively written for this collection, is a coda to All the Birds in the Sky, answering the burning question of what happened to Patricia's cat.

I've read this multiple times, and I love it more than I can say (especially now when I am reviewing book 98 of 99, I'm sorry friends, my adjective tank is on fumes). It's an amazing combination of shockingly original ideas and fantastic writing. I loved all the stories, but As Good As New -- a funny, quirky, moving version of the genie in a bottle story - is my favourite. 

The Starlit Wood: New Fairy Tales edited by Dominik Parisien. Synopsis from Goodreads: An all-new anthology of cross-genre fairy tale retellings, featuring an all-star lineup of award-winning and critically acclaimed writers.
Once upon a time. It’s how so many of our most beloved stories start.
Fairy tales have dominated our cultural imagination for centuries. From the Brothers Grimm to the Countess d’Aulnoy, from Charles Perrault to Hans Christian Anderson, storytellers have crafted all sorts of tales that have always found a place in our hearts.
Now a new generation of storytellers have taken up the mantle that the masters created and shaped their stories into something startling and electrifying.
Packed with award-winning authors, this anthology explores an array of fairy tales in startling and innovative ways, in genres and settings both traditional and unusual, including science fiction, western, and post-apocalyptic as well as traditional fantasy and contemporary horror.
From the woods to the stars, The Starlit Wood: New Fairy Tales takes readers on a journey at once unexpected and familiar, as a diverse group of writers explore some of our most beloved tales in new ways across genres and styles.

I am endlessly fascinated by fractured fairy tales - I've made multiple displays of them in my school libraries and they're always a big hit - and I've read a lot of them. I feel like this is THE definitive anthology of modernized fairy-tales retellings. The twisted Western feminist version of Little Red Riding Hood. The horrifying retelling of The Pied Piper. The awesome super-dark super-gay Sleeping Beauty. The science-y Snow Queen. The flat-out hilariously amazing stoner version of Hansel and Gretel (love love love). I had read Naomi Novik's Spinning Silver before, but hugely enjoyed reading it again. Then there were a couple where I didn't know the source material and I enjoyed the author's notes about it. I've given multiple copies of it away already. It is magical. 

Books Read in 2019: Five-Star Fantasy and Magic Realism

I meant to have this up sooner, but I got it ninety-five percent done and then stalled. My daughter is having anxiety-related insomnia and stomach issues and I'm having perimenopause-related insomnia, and sometimes they overlap, but even if they don't I don't feel good going to bed when she's awake, so I... am tired. I actually forgot the dog in the car for an uncomfortable number of minutes after picking her up at my mom and dad's after work today - happily she's not holding a grudge. 

My husband was due to leave for San Diego on Saturday, just as our twenty centimetres of snow started falling, which is par for the freaking course most of the time. Fate intervened on my behalf and delayed his flight until Sunday - he left for the airport just after the plow finally went by and he shoveled the plow ridge. Looks like my sacrifices to the snow gods paid off - *furtively hides chicken guts under pizza box*. 

Monday the elementary teachers were on strike, so the elementary schools were closed. I work in elementary schools but I'm in the secondary school union (I don't know why, the ways of unions are inscrutable to me), so I went to work but had no classes. It was a fine balance between relaxing and creepy. I got a ton of shelving and cataloguing done. I missed the kids. Today I had kids and I kind of missed the strike - just kidding. Right after my last class, the class stays in the library and gets taught dance by another teacher, so I always finish my shelving with a little bop and it's a nice way to end the day, even when you're a sleep-deprived zombie. Have I mentioned that my husband has restless legs, so often he gets up around four or five a.m. and goes down to finish the night on the couch? And now Eve wanders around trying to walk off her nausea and sometimes ends up on the couch? What I'm saying is, we need some anxiety medication or more couches. 

Okay, books. 

Fantasy

In Other Lands by Sarah Rees Brennan. Synopsis from Goodreads: “What’s your name?”
“Serene.”
“Serena?” Elliot asked.
“Serene,” said Serene. “My full name is Serene-Heart-in-the-Chaos-of-Battle.”
Elliot’s mouth fell open. “That is badass.”
The Borderlands aren’t like anywhere else. Don’t try to smuggle a phone or any other piece of technology over the wall that marks the Border—unless you enjoy a fireworks display in your backpack. (Ballpoint pens are okay.) There are elves, harpies, and—best of all as far as Elliot is concerned—mermaids.
Elliot? Who’s Elliot? Elliot is thirteen years old. He’s smart and just a tiny bit obnoxious. Sometimes more than a tiny bit. When his class goes on a field trip and he can see a wall that no one else can see, he is given the chance to go to school in the Borderlands.
It turns out that on the other side of the wall, classes involve a lot more weaponry and fitness training and fewer mermaids than he expected. On the other hand, there’s Serene-Heart-in-the-Chaos-of-Battle, an elven warrior who is more beautiful than anyone Elliot has ever seen, and then there’s her human friend Luke: sunny, blond, and annoyingly likeable. There are lots of interesting books. There’s even the chance Elliot might be able to change the world.

My first read of 2019. I ordered this as soon as it came out because I adore everything Sarah Rees Brennan has ever written, including tweets. Then for some reason I kept not picking it up. I couldn't figure out why, until I realized that I was just saving myself a perfect book to begin the new year with. I think this is my favourite of all of her books, which are all my favourite books, so it's, you know, my favourite favourite. She has such an effortlessly smooth writing style, the dialogue is sparkling and spiky, and the characters are so real. There is so much in this story - coming-of-age stuff, political and diplomatic stuff, gender and sexual politics (at times flipped hilariously and enragingly on their head), family dynamics, relationship stuff - all handled gracefully. Sure, Elliot is a tiny bit dense at times, but the reasons for said density are understandable. I love it. I love her. I love this. My daughter stole it and started reading when I was only half done, so for the rest of my read there were two bookmarks and we kept stealing it back and forth.

Muse of Nightmares (Strange the Dreamer #2) by Laini Taylor. Synopsis from Goodreads: Sarai has lived and breathed nightmares since she was six years old.
She believed she knew every horror and was beyond surprise.
She was wrong.
In the wake of tragedy, neither Lazlo nor Sarai are who they were before. One a god, the other a ghost, they struggle to grasp the new boundaries of their selves as dark-minded Minya holds them hostage, intent on vengeance against Weep.
Lazlo faces an unthinkable choice—save the woman he loves, or everyone else?—while Sarai feels more helpless than ever. But is she? Sometimes, only the direst need can teach us our own depths, and Sarai, the Muse of Nightmares, has not yet discovered what she's capable of.
As humans and godspawn reel in the aftermath of the citadel's near fall, a new foe shatters their fragile hopes, and the mysteries of the Mesarthim are resurrected: Where did the gods come from, and why? What was done with thousands of children born in the citadel nursery? And most important of all, as forgotten doors are opened and new worlds revealed: Must heroes always slay monsters, or is it possible to save them instead?
Love and hate, revenge and redemption, destruction and salvation all clash in this astonishing and heart-stopping sequel to the New York Times bestseller, Strange the Dreamer.

Well, shit. I go willingly anywhere Laini Taylor leads, and once again she has delivered many times over. This was pretty much a wholly satisfying sequel/ending to Strange the Dreamer. Again with the wondrous, entrancing world-building. Again with the beautiful prose and the fabulous characters and the tense, thought-provoking moral dilemmas. I mean, the heroine is literally dead at the beginning of the novel - talk about setting yourself a challenge as an author.

Down Among the Sticks and Bones (Wayward Children #2) by Seanan McGuire. Synopsis from Goodreads: Twin sisters Jack and Jill were seventeen when they found their way home and were packed off to Eleanor West’s Home for Wayward Children.
This is the story of what happened first…
Jacqueline was her mother’s perfect daughter—polite and quiet, always dressed as a princess. If her mother was sometimes a little strict, it’s because crafting the perfect daughter takes discipline.
Jillian was her father’s perfect daughter—adventurous, thrill-seeking, and a bit of a tom-boy. He really would have preferred a son, but you work with what you've got.
They were five when they learned that grown-ups can’t be trusted.
They were twelve when they walked down the impossible staircase and discovered that the pretense of love can never be enough to prepare you a life filled with magic in a land filled with mad scientists and death and choices.

Oh my goodness I adored this. I don't know if it was the archetypal twins and thus the stark and astonishing duality, or the world-building that was so vivid I could almost taste the air, but this seemed like an instant classic to me. The preamble with the horrible parents is brilliant. The story of the girls finding the portal is brilliant. The story of the girls on The Moors is brilliant, as is the tracing of the ways parental mistakes and gender expectations are worked out through the actions of younger generations. It's dark and melancholy and sad and strange and wonderful.

Into the Drowning Deep (Rolling in the Deep #1) by Mira Grant. Synopsis from Goodreads: Seven years ago, the Atargatis set off on a voyage to the Mariana Trench to film a “mockumentary” bringing to life ancient sea creatures of legend. It was lost at sea with all hands. Some have called it a hoax; others have called it a maritime tragedy.
Now, a new crew has been assembled. But this time they’re not out to entertain. Some seek to validate their life’s work. Some seek the greatest hunt of all. Some seek the truth. But for the ambitious young scientist Victoria Stewart this is a voyage to uncover the fate of the sister she lost.
Whatever the truth may be, it will only be found below the waves. But the secrets of the deep come with a price.

I really just want to give it five. I started out with four. Fuck it, giving it five. How the hell does she do it? Grant/McGuire is like about ten years younger than me and she's written like thirty full-length novels in different series, plus standalones, plus a bunch of short stories, and many of these are among the best example of their genre that I've read - and I read a lot. I had just finished The Magic Mountain and a couple of other dense tomes and I needed something a little less heavy, but this was not light reading, or a fun beach read, or anything else that implies that it is slight or unimportant. First of all, the science research is solid and must have been fairly time-consuming. Rolling in the Deep was more of a confection, and I wasn't sure if this was going to be an expansion or a sequel, and I absolutely love what she did with it. Like in her Wayward Children series which has been suffusing my little beating heart with love and annihilating sorrow recently, this is a real story with complex, nuanced characters (except maybe Jason), which makes the mounting sense of suffocating dread that much harder to bear. And the sign language. And the dolphins, oh my god, the dolphins. Seriously. She must have a twin that she locks in the basement and forces to write all the time. Or she doesn't sleep. Magic Realism

Son of a Trickster by Eden Robinson. Synopsis from Goodreads: With striking originality and precision, Eden Robinson, the Giller-shortlisted author of the classic Monkey Beach and winner of the Writers Trust Engel/Findley Award, blends humour with heartbreak in this compelling coming-of-age novel. Everyday teen existence meets indigenous beliefs, crazy family dynamics, and cannibalistic river otter . . . The exciting first novel in her trickster trilogy.
Everyone knows a guy like Jared: the burnout kid in high school who sells weed cookies and has a scary mom who's often wasted and wielding some kind of weapon. Jared does smoke and drink too much, and he does make the best cookies in town, and his mom is a mess, but he's also a kid who has an immense capacity for compassion and an impulse to watch over people more than twice his age, and he can't rely on anyone for consistent love and support, except for his flatulent pit bull, Baby Killer (he calls her Baby)--and now she's dead.
Jared can't count on his mom to stay sober and stick around to take care of him. He can't rely on his dad to pay the bills and support his new wife and step-daughter. Jared is only sixteen but feels like he is the one who must stabilize his family's life, even look out for his elderly neighbours. But he struggles to keep everything afloat...and sometimes he blacks out. And he puzzles over why his maternal grandmother has never liked him, why she says he's the son of a trickster, that he isn't human. Mind you, ravens speak to him--even when he's not stoned.
You think you know Jared, but you don't.

Another dark and brilliant book. Jared is the most wonderful, heart-breaking, layered, nuanced character, caught in the most horribly unfair circumstances. His story without any magical realism would be compelling enough, but the extra shading of indigenous mythology takes it to the next level. It was sad and terrifying and I couldn't stop reading. 

Whatever This Is

Slaughterhouse-Five by Kurt Vonnegut Jr. Synopsis from Goodreads: Selected by the Modern Library as one of the 100 best novels of all time, Slaughterhouse-Five, an American classic, is one of the world's great antiwar books. Centering on the infamous firebombing of Dresden, Billy Pilgrim's odyssey through time reflects the mythic journey of our own fractured lives as we search for meaning in what we fear most.

I think I first read this in university. I found it even more poignant read at this age - the half-cracked, hysterical, laugh-until-you-cry maelstrom of events untethered by linearity or consistency. It makes complete sense that some events are so hugely tragic that they render time itself meaningless, and yet every life eventually ends in the same way. So it goes. 

Books Read in 2019: Four-Star Fiction

Fiction Middlemarch by George Eliot. Synopsis from Goodreads: Taking place in the years leading up to the First Reform Bill of 1832, Middlemarch explores nearly every subject of concern to modern life: art, religion, science, politics, self, society, human relationships. Among her characters are some of the most remarkable portraits in English literature: Dorothea Brooke, the heroine, idealistic but naive; Rosamond Vincy, beautiful and egoistic: Edward Casaubon, the dry-as-dust scholar: Tertius Lydgate, the brilliant but morally-flawed physician: the passionate artist Will Ladislaw: and Fred Vincey and Mary Garth, childhood sweethearts whose charming courtship is one of the many humorous elements in the novel's rich comic vein.  I had only read The Mill on the Floss by George Eliot, in school. I didn't love it, exactly, but I liked it. I had resolved to tackle a couple of dense classics last year, and this one, widely regarded as one of the best novels in English, was the second one I read. I would be lying if I said I was instantly captivated - I went into it thinking of it as a sort of work, and I was working pretty hard for the first little bit. I've said before that I have a pretty modern sensibility as far as fiction goes, which I feel a little self-conscious about - I don't rapturously reread Pride and Prejudice every year, I loved the first few chapters of Moby Dick but the rest of it made me want to hurl myself to a watery death, I couldn't finish Ulysses. I tend to roll my eyes a little if the word "languid" is used a lot (it's used many, many times in Middlemarch), if many people say things "coldly", and if women tend to go "tripping" over to answer the door or summon a servant. I do love The Great Gatsby and A Tree Grows in Brooklyn and I adored reading Virginia Woolf's diaries. But the books I reread, the books that speak to me the most, tend to be modern, and fantastical somehow. That's fine, but if I consider myself a dedicated reader, I feel like I need to dip my toes into the well of the classics every now and then.  I was reading it on my Kindle, and I had as a goal that I would read at least three percent every day. At first I was checking my progress constantly, which was fairly demoralizing because of its great length - it took many pages to get to three percent. There were long descriptions of manor houses, fields, forests and I think maybe granges - what is a grange anyway? Oh, a country house with farm building attached, that makes sense. THEN, I stumbled on this little gem: "Sane people did what their neighbours did, so that if any lunatics were at large, one might know and avoid them." Nice one, Mary Ann.  Dorothea, basically the female lead, is intelligent enough for her age (around twenty), but so idealistic and self-abnegating that she can't help but be a little annoying. She is of the opinion that "a really delightful marriage must be that where your husband was a sort of father, and could teach you even Hebrew, if you wished it" (ew), and accordingly she marries a cold fish some thirty years older than she is, instead of young, lusty Sir James who is sure that a "man's mind has always the advantage of being masculine...and even his ignorance is of a sounder quality". No sweat, James decides to marry Dorothea's younger sister Celia, whose opinion on marriage is pretty well summed up by her saying "Oh, Mrs. Cadwallader, I don't think it can be nice to marry a man with a great soul" (Preach, Sister). Then there's poor Tertius Lydgate who marries Rosamond Vincy, thinking that they're in love enough that not having a lot of money will not matter. Poor, poor, stupid Tertius Lydgate. Lydgate is a doctor who wants to bring sounder scientific practices to treating the residents of Middlemarch, rather than giving them unproven and expensive medicines. Trouble is, unproven and expensive medicines are The Way Things Are Done, so this doesn't fly so well for Lydgate. There is talk of the "well known 'fac'" that he cuts up bodies, and various other things that basically add up to fake news. By this point I am quite enjoying Eliot's easy prose with its judicious sprinkling of what can only be termed snark. There is a lot of very clear-eyed musing about how money makes it easier to be "good", and about how difficult the lack of money makes all aspects of life: one character muses that ”It’s rather a strong check to one’s self-complacency to find how much of one’s right doing depends on not being in want of money”. Will Ladislaw is Mr. Casaubon's younger, hotter cousin, who meets Dorothea on her honeymoon and shortly inspires great regret over her marriage in both of them. Dorothea, of course, is too noble to do anything but suffer in silence, but Casaubon catches on anyway and makes sure that if she marries Will after he kicks the bucket she will be disinherited. Then, naturally, he dies, and Dorothea and Will flounce about being heartbroken and virtuous. My favourite quote regarding this period is: "Will did not know what to say, since it would not be useful for him to embrace her slippers, and tell her that he would die for her". And also, from the wedding art tour in Italy: "under Will's tutelage, Dorothea felt that she was getting quite new notions as to the significance of Madonnas seated under inexplicable canopied thrones with the simple country as a background, and of saints with architectural models in their hands, or knives accidentally wedged in their skulls." Then there's Mary Garth, my favourite character, the no-nonsense, down-to-earth nurse to a very unpleasant rich man, who is constantly described as 'plain', possibly because she doesn't kiss everyone's ass. When Rosamond asks her what she's been doing lately, she replies "I? Oh, minding the house -- pouring out syrup -- pretending to be amiable and contented -- learning to have a bad opinion of everybody." When Fred, who she's known since childhood and does love, causes her father to lose a fairly big sum of money, he feels terrible and begs her to forgive him, whereupon she points out that her forgiving him wouldn't really improve anything for anyone, it would just make him feel better, and that selfish people always think their own feelings are more important than other people's actual importance. This is the man she loves and will eventually marry, and he actually does get his ass in gear after this, which is kind of awesome. Anyway, Mary and Fred get married and Fred has to work at an actual job, Dorothea and Will get married and live in blissful poverty, and Rosamond and Tertius I think live unhappily ever after, and George Eliot is freaking funnier than I ever knew, and Middlemarch is quite wonderful. I'm just going to jam in the rest of my favourite quotes here because I'm tired of working up transitions and I'm not getting marked on this. "He had also reasons, deep rather than ostensible, for being satisfied with his own appearance. To superficial observers his chin had too vanishing an aspect, looking as if it were being gradually reabsorbed. And it did indeed cause him some difficulty about the fit of his satin stocks, for which chins were at that time useful." "'I know the sort', said Mr. Hawley: 'some emissary. He'll begin with flourishing about the Rights of Man and end with murdering a wench. That's the style.'" Rosamond, while Will was waxing rhapsodic about Dorothea: "She had no sense of chill" "SHE HAD NO SENSE OF CHILL". Okay, the full quote is "She had no sense of chill resolute repulsion, of reticent self-justification such as she had known under Lydgate's most stormy displeasure. But still. George Eliot said Dorothea had zero chill, and I am HERE for it.  Finally, for some impenetrable purpose, I highlighted "'oh, take a bit of jelly, my dear' said Mrs. Vincy to Fred. Huh. A Wall of Light (Tel Aviv Trilogy #3) by Edeet Ravel. Synopsis by Goodreads: “I am Sonya Vronsky, professor of mathematics at Tel Aviv University, and this is the story of a day in late August. On this remarkable day I kissed a student, pursued a lover, found my father, and left my brother.” So begins A Wall of Light, a novel which chronicles a single day in the life of Sonya, a thirty-two-year-old deaf woman about to break out of her predictable routine. Sonya lives in Tel Aviv with her protective half-brother, Kostya; their household has dwindled from five to two. Anna, their mother, is now in a nursing home and Noah, Kostya’s son, is living in Berlin. Kostya, wracked with guilt for the tragedies that have befallen Sonya, also grapples with the memory of his wife, Iris, a lawyer murdered in the course of a dangerous investigation seventeen years earlier. As we move through Sonya’s day, Noah and Anna narrate their stories as well. Noah’s journal entries cover the years 1980-1993, and Anna’s letters to Andrei, her married lover in Russia, are written in 1957, after Anna has emigrated to Israel to build a new life for herself and her son, Kostya. While Sonya’s story moves rapidly through the events of a single day, Noah and Anna’s voices take the reader back in time, filling in the circumstances that have led Sonya to this pivotal moment. We learn that Sonya has already endured two catastrophes. At age twelve, a medical mishap leaves her deaf, and at eighteen, while studying at university in Beersheba, Sonya is assaulted by two hoodlums. Throughout the novel, Sonya’s experiences, instigated by both human error and human evil, are echoed by the larger, political violence that haunts modern Israel. While Noah’s and Anna’s voices shed light on Sonya’s journey, they also provide insights into the political and cultural fabric of Israel from the mid 1950s to the present. Noah’s journal entries, starting with his tenth birthday and ending shortly after his army service, map his coming of age. We see him wrestling with his sexual identity and first sexual encounters, the fallout from his mother’s leftist politics, and his own conscription to the army. Anna’s secret letters to Andrei offer an outsider’s perspective on the new Israeli state. The remarkable events of Sonya’s day are set in motion when her brother gives her an antihistamine. Overcome with sleepiness, she dismisses her morning class early, asking only one student, Matar, to stay behind. She wants to understand what lies behind his unusual expression. He answers that he has been involved in war crimes, and surprises Sonya by kissing her. Sonya feels that she has been roused from a long slumber and as the novel progresses we see the ways in which her awakened desire shapes her choices. She decides to take a taxi home from the university and impulsively invites the taxi driver inside and seduces him. He complies, but when she tells him she’s deaf, he flees in confusion. Sonya is convinced that she has fallen in love with him, and decides to pursue him. She solicits her brother’s help and sets out to find her lover. Sonya’s search gains in intensity and purpose as she travels to East Jerusalem. There she encounters the walls that prevent Palestinians from moving freely through the West Bank. After an Alice in Wonderland-like journey past numerous obstacles, Sonya finally makes it to her lover’s house. This second encounter leads Sonya to a central revelation: the identity of her father. As this day of awakened desire and dispelled secrets closes, Sonya is able to step out from under the protective wing of her brother into a life that reflects both the ambiguity and uncertainty of contemporary Israel and her own personal possibilities. I adore Edeet Ravel's writing. It reminds me a bit of Miriam Toews, just in the way that she touches on the darkest of subjects with a somehow light and even humorous tone. This story is bizarre in many ways, but I was completely on board, mostly because Sonya is so open and hopeful. This is the third of Ravel's books that I've read. I haven't read the first two books in this trilogy because the library didn't have them, but I didn't feel like I'd missed anything. I love the way various aspects of Israeli life are woven inconspicuously into the narrative - sometimes when you want to visit someone you might have to figure out how to get over a wall.  Lost and Wanted by Nell Freudenberger. Synopsis from Goodreads: 'In the first few months after Charlie died, I began hearing from her much more frequently Helen Clapp is a physics professor. She doesn't believe in pseudo-science, or time travel and especially not in ghosts. So when she gets a missed call from Charlie, her closest friend from university with whom she hasn't spoken in over a year, Helen thinks there must be some mistake. Because Charlie died two days ago. Then when her young son, Jack, claims to have seen Charlie in their house just the other day, Helen begins to have doubts. Through the grief of the husband and daughter Charlie left behind, Helen is drawn into the orbit of Charlie's world, slotting in the missing pieces of her friend's past. And, as she delves into the web of their shared history, Helen finds herself entangled in the forgotten threads of her own life. Lost and Wanted is a searing novel from one of America's most exciting writers about the knottiness of female friendship, the forces which fuse us together and those which drive us apart. I remember, years ago, when I still thought I might pursue writing as a career, seeing Nell Freudenberger touted as an up-and-coming Next Big Thing. She was young and beautiful and talented and I think I read an article by someone who hated her, but I just felt wistful and a little envious and couldn't bring myself to read the story she was suddenly famous for. Fast forward many years, I have gotten over myself and I came across this ebook from the library and decided to see if I felt like the fuss was merited. Basically, I do. This wasn't the kind of thing I usually read, but I enjoyed reading it very much. The fact that she had to learn the science she wrote about is really impressive, because I felt like she wrote about it like someone who had years of familiarity. The family relationship dynamics were also well drawn. The story didn't quite go where I thought it was going, and sometimes I can't recover from that, but in this case it felt completely agreeable that it just went somewhere else. I really should track down the story from the article.  Sunburn by Laura Lippman. Synopsis from Goodreads: One is playing a long game. But which one? They meet at a local tavern in the small town of Belleville, Delaware. Polly is set on heading west. Adam says he’s also passing through. Yet she stays and he stays—drawn to this mysterious redhead whose quiet stillness both unnerves and excites him. Over the course of a punishing summer, Polly and Adam abandon themselves to a steamy, inexorable affair. Still, each holds something back from the other—dangerous, even lethal, secrets that begin to accumulate as autumn approaches, feeding the growing doubts they conceal. Then someone dies. Was it an accident, or part of a plan? By now, Adam and Polly are so ensnared in each other’s lives and lies that neither one knows how to get away—or even if they want to. Is their love strong enough to withstand the truth, or will it ultimately destroy them? Something—or someone—has to give. Which one will it be? I love Laura Lippman. This is not my favourite of her books, mostly because the sort-of noir kind of mystery where you know most things up front and the point isn't the mystery but the motivations behind it isn't my favourite kind of mystery (I'm too shallow, maybe). It's still a really good example of its kind, with incredibly complex characters and really good writing. I would recommend most of her Tess Monaghan series or Every Secret Thing or To the Power of Three first, just based on my own preference. Gold by Chris Cleave. Synopsis from Goodreads: Building on the tradition of Little Bee, Chris Cleave again writes with elegance, humor, and passion about friendship, marriage, parenthood, tragedy, and redemption. Gold is the story of Zoe and Kate, world-class athletes who have been friends and rivals since their first day of Elite training. They've loved, fought, betrayed, forgiven, consoled, gloried, and grown up together. Now on the eve of London 2012, their last Olympics, both women will be tested to their physical and emotional limits. They must confront each other and their own mortality to decide, when lives are at stake: What would you sacrifice for the people you love, if it meant giving up the thing that was most important to you in the world? I read Little Bee and it was incendiary. This was less so. "Building on the tradition of Little Bee" is a frankly incomprehensible statement. This was a well-written account of the incredible drive and self-punishing lengths it takes to maintain Olympic-level excellence, as well as some insight into how childhood trauma plays out in adulthood and leads to dysfunctional relationships. It's a little too neat, a little too Hollywood, even a little Lifetime movie-ish, maybe, especially compared to Little Bee. But I still really liked it. Sometimes that's how it goes.  The Bookish Life of Nina Hill by Abbi Waxman. Synopsis from Goodreads: The only child of a single mother, Nina has her life just as she wants it: a job in a bookstore, a kick-butt trivia team, a world-class planner and a cat named Phil. If she sometimes suspects there might be more to life than reading, she just shrugs and picks up a new book. When the father Nina never knew existed suddenly dies, leaving behind innumerable sisters, brothers, nieces, and nephews, Nina is horrified. They all live close by! They're all—or mostly all—excited to meet her! She'll have to Speak. To. Strangers. It's a disaster! And as if that wasn't enough, Tom, her trivia nemesis, has turned out to be cute, funny, and deeply interested in getting to know her. Doesn't he realize what a terrible idea that is? Nina considers her options. 1. Completely change her name and appearance. (Too drastic, plus she likes her hair.) 2. Flee to a deserted island. (Hard pass, see: coffee). 3. Hide in a corner of her apartment and rock back and forth. (Already doing it.) It's time for Nina to come out of her comfortable shell, but she isn't convinced real life could ever live up to fiction. It's going to take a brand-new family, a persistent suitor, and the combined effects of ice cream and trivia to make her turn her own fresh page. This was recommended to me by Kerry (HI KERRY) over lunch at Lone Star. I put it on hold at the library, and was promised that I would have access to it in sixteen short weeks. But then in the darkest dark of November, when I really, really needed a good book to convince me that I wouldn't actually work myself into unconsciousness and oblivion trying to prepare the perfect Christmas, lo and behold, this came available as a short-term loan. I LOVED THIS BOOK. I have an unattractive knee-jerk snobbery towards anything that could be called Romance or Chick Lit. It's dumb. It annoys me when people are biased against mystery or sci fi and fantasy, because basically a book is a book is a book, and I like books that are well written with well developed characters, clever writing, snappy dialogue, well drawn relationships and plots where either something happens or nothing happens in an interesting way. That should be possible in any genre. Nina Hill is a wonderful character, extremely relatable to anyone who sometimes feels like books are a better bet than an adventurous life (hello). The setting is detailed and lovely, the relationships are deep and wonderful, and the device of the daily mood boards works really well. The cast of characters is large and quirky in the best way, and people who start off as 'bad guys' are allowed room for growth, which is one of the very best things in a book, and always surprises and delights me. I would be lying if I said the romance wasn't a tiny bit formulaic, but the writing is good enough that it's okay.  Wait Til You See Me Dance by Deb Olin Unferth. Synopsis from Goodreads: For more than ten years, Deb Olin Unferth has been publishing startlingly askew, wickedly comic, cutting-edge fiction in magazines such as Granta, Harper’s Magazine, McSweeney’s, NOON, and The Paris Review. Her stories are revered by some of the best American writers of our day, but until now there has been no stand-alone collection of her short fiction. Wait Till You See Me Dance consists of several extraordinary longer stories as well as a selection of intoxicating very short stories. In the chilling “The First Full Thought of Her Life,” a shooter gets in position while a young girl climbs a sand dune. In “Voltaire Night,” students compete to tell a story about the worst thing that ever happened to them. In “Stay Where You Are,” two oblivious travelers in Central America are kidnapped by a gunman they assume to be an insurgent—but the gunman has his own problems. An Unferth story lures you in with a voice that seems amiable and lighthearted, but it swerves in sudden and surprising ways that reveal, in terrifying clarity, the rage, despair, and profound mournfulness that have taken up residence at the heart of the American dream. These stories often take place in an exaggerated or heightened reality, a quality that is reminiscent of the work of Donald Barthelme, Lorrie Moore, and George Saunders, but in Unferth’s unforgettable collection she carves out territory that is entirely her own. I bought this with a gift card as part of my effort to read and support more female authors. It's not often that I buy a pure fiction short story collection unless it's by Lorrie Moore, but this was amply worth it, although I have to take issue with the assertion that she "lures you in with a voice that seems amiable and lighthearted". Rage, despair and profound mournfulness is pretty accurate, though. There's a fine line between stories that allow messiness and uncertainty to take the place of closure, and stories that just take the lazy way out. For the most part, these stories, even the very short ones, fall on the right side of that line. Much of the title story, and its resonances of a sad, stifled, yearning existence with notes of bizarre hopefulness, is seared into my brain.