A few of my favorite reads…
CONTEMPORARY & CANONICAL ǁ NEW & OLD.
Fiction ※ Poetry ※ Nonfiction ※ Drama
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All in Contemporary Fiction
Nevil Shute’s novel, A Town Like Alice (originally published 1950), leads its readers through the years before, during, and after WWII on both the British home front and the colonial outposts of British Malaya. Eventually, readers wander as a far as Queensland, Australia in this classically mid-century novel about a resourceful (we might call her entrepreneurial in the 21st century) young woman (Jean Paget) whose grit and good sense make her a natural leader and a wildly likeable character.
Some books sweep the reader away to a specific place and time within the first lines. In the case of Australian writer, Tea Cooper’s novel, The Naturalist’s Daughter (2024), this certainly holds true. Cooper’s newest historical fiction opens amid the many oddities of a naturalist’s workroom in the backwaters of New South Wales, Australia. The year is 1808 and readers immediately meet the child Rose. She is a delightful young heroine who assists her father’s work which focuses on observing and documenting the curious creature now known as platypus (known by many names in the nineteenth century including Aboriginal mallangong).
Muriel Barbery’s The Elegance of the Hedgehog (2006, translated to English 2008) brims with internal rumination and philosophy. It is also the tale of human connection and the small moments that transform individuals existing in close proximity to others without ever really seeing one another into kindred spirits. Set almost entirely in the disconnected community of an upper class residential building in central Paris, The Elegance of the Hedgehog’s cast centers around the building fifty-four-year-old concierge; aloof and prickly, she is clearly an outlier living under the building’s glitzy roof. Readers meet a second integral character early on who calls the building home: the twelve-year-old younger daughter of one of the families. Perspective alternates between these characters through out the novel and the reader spends considerable time in both their internal thoughts.
I realized I had never read her Pulitzer winner, The Shipping News (1993). So this year I did. I found myself slowly pulled in by an unlikely hero, Quoyle, a gentle giant in a cruel world full of betrayal, disappointment, and heartbreak. The precocious characters multiply as Proulx’s award-winning novel progresses and her hero returns to his family’s ancestral home in Newfoundland. He finds himself in an unlikely Eden, but in time it becomes clear it is the home he has always sought. Ultimately, The Shipping News is a testament to the power of place in great writing as well as the magic of human connection to heal us; Proulx transports her readers to the bitter cold and hard living of Newfoundland where small acts of kindness and community serve as palliatives to the landscape’s harshness.
Ann Patchett’s Tom Lake (2023) is a slight novel (page count just over 300) that explores storytelling and story-receiving, innocence and experience, memory and truth. Set during the long, slow days of pandemic lockdown, Tom Lake follows a mother unwinding the tale of her youth to her now young adult daughters.
Madeline Miller’s short work, Galatea (originally published 2013), is a satisfyingly tiny book. Bound in hardcover with petite dimensions (roughly 4” x 6”), this little book is only 56 pages (including a six-page afterword). The story itself, like Miller’s novel-length Circe (previously reviewed—the first on LitReaderNotes— here) and The Song of Achilles (previously reviewed here), is a feminist retelling of classical myth. Miller fleshes out Galatea’s story from the story of Pygmalion in Ovid’s Metamorphosis.
Many people have spoken of the power in Jesmyn Ward’s novel Sing, Unburied, Sing (2017), but nothing can prepare its reader for the heart-wrenching narrative held within its pages. This story, told in alternating, first-person perspective, is a story of place. A native of the Mississippi Delta, Ward knows Sing, Unburied, Sing’s setting intimately. The delta, and its many unburied spirits, come to life in this moving coming-of-age story rich with themes of belonging, loss, addiction, and so much more.
So often writers tease out an elaborate story by asking a series of compelling what-ifs. In the case of Percival Everett’s most recent novel, James (2024), this is certainly the case. Everett spins an alternate history of American slavery that draws the reader in and provokes readers to reconsider certain narratives. Because, what if? James is the tale of the enslaved man readers met a century ago in Mark Twain’s Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, but Everett’s Jim is far more complicated and dynamic than his literary debut (à la Twain) depicted.
Peppered with factoids and historical references that dangle carrots over plenty of delightful rabbit holes, Elizabeth Gilbert’s novel, The Signature of All Things (2013), is a thoroughly researched historical fiction that quickly drew me in. Readers absorb all sorts of botanical and nineteenth-century truths— like ginseng is native to North America (Midwest to Maine)— and countless other little facts, references, and interwoven historical moments. Gilbert’s hefty historical fiction deftly interweaves scientific and historical research into the life of a nineteenth-century woman. Indeed, the novel centers on the life of one woman. Readers observe her, from birth to death, and the many scientific and social shifts witnessed over the century during which she lived. The novel opens with her birth, then takes a momentary pause in her story to tell that of her father’s youth. The Signature of All Things explores myriad themes, bold characters, and plenty of actual historical facts, but upon careful consideration, this is a story about adaptation in both scientific and human terms.
George Saunders’ first novel, Lincoln in the Bardo (2017), is an astonishingly genre-bending tale set primarily in the in-between space that follows death and precedes whatever comes after. As the novel’s dust jacket explains, “bardo” is a Tibetan Buddhist term for the place souls occupy between death and reincarnation. Saunders is a master of written word (called the greatest American short story writer of our time by many), but this is his first foray into longer form fiction; and he dazzles.
What if science could bring people back to life complete with memories created prior to premature death? Surely such abilities would be fraught with ethical questions and ramifications. What if a serially killer targeted young women alone in the dark? What would the tipping point be at which the public would rally for these women to be brought back? These are some of the questions from which Katie Williams’ novel My Murder (2023) stems. Williams’ novel takes readers to a not-so-distant future when technology—medical and otherwise—changes certain fundamental certainties in life. Most notably, My Murder is set during a time when death need not be forever.
Michiko Aoyama’s slender novel, What You Are Looking for is in the Library (2020, English translation 2023) connects a series of vignettes about largely disconnected individuals living in contemporary Tokyo. The central hub of the many spoked story is the community library with its large librarian who seems like a character who has stepped out of a Miyazaki film like My Neighbor Totoro.
Try as we may, all of us remember the feeling during Covid lockdowns and quarantines when we wanted to escape the confines, climb out of our skin, anything to escape the mindless numb of every day. Sarah Moss puts flesh on those feelings in her post-pandemic novella, The Fell (2021, first American edition 2022). Coming in just under 200 pages, Moss’s latest fiction will haunt readers just as much as our own memories of COVID’s darkest days.
Some books zoom in on a place and its local culture, bound to the setting both in terms of geography and time in ways that pull the reader in. Ash Davidson’s debut novel Damnation Spring (2021) does just that. Readers cozy up with the book firmly in the 21st-century, but within sentences Davidson’s prose transports them to 1977 amid the coastal redwoods and gritty logging families of Northern California. As anyone with knowledge of 1970s logging communities knows, this book deals with some very difficult themes (things like premature death, poverty, miscarriage, and adultery to name a few). Rural towns like the one readers come to know intimately in Damnation Spring, witnessed major cultural upheaval during the 1970s. Growing public environmentalist sentiment and dwindling old growth logging opportunities led to heated conflicts which often pitted neighbor against neighbor. It is a conflict that continues to play out in logging
Marilynne Robinson’s Home (2008) is the story of a family with a son whose sorted past and heavy heart, continue to define and limit him well into middle age. As his father—“Reverend” to even his sons— faces the final journey after a long and upstanding life, Jack returns home to the town of Gilead, Iowa to face his inner demons and the setting for his earliest shame. This novel tells the story of his return, reception, and renewal. Robinson writes this novel, the second of four in the Gilead series, alternating close third-person perspectives between Jack, the wayward son, and his youngest sister Glory.
Nathan Hill’s new novel, Wellness (2023), peals the onion of modern, middle-aged life. It nails so many truisms about contemporary life in terms of fitness, AI, health trends, Facebook wars, married life, love, polyamory, mindfulness groups, parenting in the digital age, careers in academia, and urban gentrification, to name a few. Many of the contemporary elements are laugh-out-loud funny, others are crushingly depressing. Woven into the pre-pandemic age of twenty-teens Chicago contemporary storyline are a number of backstory character-driven vignettes. These reach back in time to highlight traumas and generational family dysfunction with which the main characters live, whether they are conscious of that fact or not. Many read almost as stand-alone pieces, but together they create the patchwork of Hill’s characters’ lives. Wellness is witty and poignant, delightful and difficult
