I didn’t make it to 52 books this year, not even close. I’m not sure what to say other than my
commute got shorter and I was busier than ever.
Nevertheless, here’s what I read in 2018.
Radio Waves: Poems Celebrating the Wireless—ed. Seán Street
This is an amusing and interesting collection (all poets
necessarily writing after the invention of the radio, quite an oddity in poetry
anthologies). Sometimes it feels a
little narrow—so many poems about The
Shipping Forecast!—but the addition of some Brecht and song lyrics doesn’t
go amiss. Not many younger poets,
though.
Autumn – Ali Smith
After a slow and rather baffling start, I found Autumn had a great flow. It has a lot to say about the current state
of Britain in a rather understated, slightly mystified, humorous way. The more I learned about the main characters,
Elisabeth and Daniel, the more I liked them, and I ached for the unrequited
romance at the heart of the tale. I wasn’t
sure how well Christine Keeler and Pauline Boty fitted in, but Elisabeth’s
mother’s character was deftly and accurately filled in. It both comforted me about Brexit and made me
sigh.
Peace of Mind – Thich Nhat Hanh
Hanh’s openness, humor, and genuinely welcoming writerly
voice is convincing. I tried to practice
some of the Buddhist principles he outlines, with variable success, but I do
feel calmer just reading his steady, easy-to-read prose.
Pope Francis: Untying the Knots – Paul Vallely
I was a bit disappointed by this book at first, as Vallely’s
writing is not of the calibre of the sensitive, incisive, and
historically-minded John Thavis. It’s
also evident that this book was rushed into production and as such has some
quite appalling typos. It’s off to a
clunky start, but the Afterword is an excellent distillation of the entire
argument of the book, charting a young Jesuit, Jorge Mario Bergoglio, whose
mission and state of being were completely transformed after his actions during
Argentina’s Dirty War so that when he became Archbishop of Buenos Aires, he had
embraced humility as an intellectual stance and the commitment to the poor (and
Liberation Theology) that would ultimately make him Pope Francis.
How to Fight – Thic Nhat Hanh
I was expecting a book at least as thick as Fear or Peace of Mind; this was a tiny book. It fit in well with the
previous books without being unduly repetitive.
Call Me By Your Name – André Aciman
I’m not sure what I was expecting, but this was a very
well-written book that beautifully telescoped one summer and how it feels to be
a teenager and in love. Not least in
love with an older man in the early 1980s in a permissive household;
nevertheless, Elio and Oliver’s romance is doomed from the start due to the
fact they are Jewish and traditional.
The book is extremely sensual, about as sensual as a mainstream,
non-erotica book can be, and it’s a wonderful exercise in living inside
someone’s head, someone who is insecure, full of doubt, full of lust, and,
although talented, very, very young, indeed.
I was concerned how the movie would dramatize the many interior
monologues, and while it succeeded quite well in this, I was disappointed at
where it left off—to me, the most poignant part of the book was later in Elio
and Oliver’s lives when they met up again, still feeling much the same way for
each other that they had in Italy.
On Heaven and Earth: Pope Francis on Faith, Family, and the Church in the 21st Century – Jorge Mario Bergoglio and Abraham Skorka
I found this book very interesting indeed, a project
convened long before Bergoglio became Pope.
I learned a lot about (reasonably conservative) Judaism as well as
Bergoglio’s interesting take on Catholicism (both of them falling down, in my
opinion, in terms of sexist attitudes), but otherwise very open to
dialogue.
The How of Happiness: A Practical Guide to Getting the Life You Want – Sonja Lyubomirsky
I’m very glad that I read this book; I have been interested
in the “how” of happiness since at least when I read Stumbling on Happiness some ten years ago. It’s a well-written, humorous, honestly
helpful take on happiness from a scientific perspective. Stumbling
on Happiness was fascinating and provided scientific insights, but it was
also, ultimately, somewhat less positive than The How of Happiness and offered fewer practical suggestions for actually
increasing your day-to-day happiness. I
scoffed at reading “self-help” books in my youth, and while I guess this might
be considered an upscale version of a self-help book, I think what attracts me
to its message is how deeply rooted in empirical science it is.
The Mythology of Richard III – John Ashdown-Hill
This book was . . . something else. Ashdown-Hill is extraordinarily bitter about
the way the world has treated Richard III, and while his quarrel with the
University of Leicester, the Anglican Church of Leicester, and Leicester
Council seems to be justified, in part, he does himself no favors by harping on
it in an excessive fashion. Indeed, his
writing would be much more effective if he could state his point succinctly and
move on. And he has many fascinating
points! He systematically dismantles all
the myths and stories about Richard III, from significant to frivolous (is it
such a bad thing that Richard III may or may not have ridden a horse called
White Surrey? It can hardly make much
difference). I do agree with
Ashdown-Hill that Richard III most likely would have been appalled to have been
buried in a cathedral that isn’t Catholic, and I enjoyed that his take on
Richard and Anne left in the possibility of love (Josephine Wilkinson saw their
marriage as entirely pragmatic).
How to Stay Sane – Philippa Perry
An excellent and encouraging little book.
Appetite for America: Fred Harvey and the Business of Civilizing the Wild West—One Meal at a Time – Stephen Fried
This was a fantastic history book which told a huge
historical saga in a very accessible and engaging way. After finishing it and
observing the story from Fred Harvey’s emigration to the US in the 1850s to the
disintegration of the franchise by the 1970s, I was convinced the Harvey story
should be told all the way through, rather than just in the Hollywood treatment
given to it in the famous 1940s film.
Fried is an excellent historian, making his subjects both human and real
as well as linking them to movements in greater society. I am certain I will re-read this book.
Star Wars: Phasma - Delilah S. Dawson
I found this to be surprisingly entertaining and quite
well-written, generally. I can’t say, of
all the characters in Star Wars, that
I was really yearning to know more about Phasma, but I’ve always been intrigued
to know more about the day-to-day life of Stormtroopers. While these were First Order Stormtroopers
rather than the classic variety, it was still interesting. I liked the structure of the book, and how
there was no redemption for Phasma—but there was some for Cardinal.
Doctor Who: The Christmas Invasion – Jenny T Colgan
I thought this was going to be an enjoyable bit of fluff,
but it meant more to me than that: it
revived one of my favorite eras of Doctor
Who, elevating a pleasant but flawed Christmas Special into something with
more depth (as all good Targets should).
Adolf Hitler and My Part in His Downfall – Spike Milligan
Milligan was—perhaps not surprisingly, but
disappointingly—not as a PC as the recent Radio 4 drama made him out to be, if
this book is anything to go by. While
the book took awhile to get going for me, I did find many laugh-out-loud funny
moments. The absurdity of war made a
deep impression upon Milligan, and this sense of absurdity informs all of his
work, including this madcap history of his first years in the war. It ends as he arrives in North Africa.
The Life Project – Helen Pearson
Helen Pearson is an excellent writer—she makes complex
concepts easy to understand. There is
never a sense of her intruding as an author or puffing herself up to eclipse
the material. It must have taken a lot
of stamina to cover such a large subject as the British birth cohorts (which
have a history from 1946 to this day), but Pearson evidently fell under their
spell, like so many other people, scientists, laymen, and the babies themselves
(the 1946 cohort is still beating all others for sheer loyalty, but they are in
the 70s now). Having worked in a research
group that used some of the cohort studies and things of their ilk, I found the
book fascinating—what had perhaps appeared to me opaque in my previous admin
work now made a lot of sense.
Strandloper – Alan Garner
I can’t say I’ve read a book like Strandloper before. I have
to say, I found it very strange. The
class war is at the heart of this story, which sees mystic bricklayer William
Buckland wrongly transported to Australia for no crime at all (other than
wanting to read and write). He then
becomes an Aborigine for thirty years before returning to England, though what
he finds there is bittersweet. The
colloquial language was often impenetrable, and the sections set in Aboriginal
Australia I found almost incomprehensible.
But maybe that’s a sign of my parochial, Americentric mind. I did feel quite moved by the ending and felt
the story earned a degree of elegance by its conclusion.
Vita Brevis – Ruth Downie
I’ve evidently skipped a book or two, but ancient Roman
soldier-doctor Ruso and his wife Tilla of the Brigantes have moved to Rome
after following Ruso’s patron Accius.
They now have an adopted daughter, Mara, and are living in a tenement
slum as Ruso has not found the work he was expecting to get as Accius’ attendant. Embroiled in Accius’ wooing exploits puts him
in the center of an illegal dissection ring and gets him nearly poisoned. I love Ruso, Tilla, and this whole series,
because of the wonderful characters, the effortless historical settings, and
the plots are pretty good, too. By the
book’s end, Ruso and Tilla have decided to move to Gaul with his family or
possibly back to Britannia.
The Etymologicon: A Circular Stroll through the Hidden Connections of the English Language – Mark Forsyth
I can imagine how Mark Forsyth would be very annoying to run
into in person, if his conversation is anything like this book (I mean, simply
because being a know-it-all is annoying).
However, the book was very interesting and an easy, enjoyable read
(though I did wonder why he referred to Boudicca as Boadicea given he was
talking all about the lack of words in English that come from Celtic, which is
mysteriously small). I’m a reasonably
well-informed person on the English language, with a vocabulary much more
florid and erudite that your average man-on-the-street, but I still learned a
great deal from the book. I suspect it
also makes a pretty good blog.
The Convert – Elizabeth Robins
This was a very serendipitous read. It reminded me a lot of Robins’ contemporary,
May Sinclair, and while Sinclair was never really an out-and-out suffragette,
she was a keen believer in gender
equality. The book feels very of its
time, but I enjoyed its main character, Vida, who reminded me a bit of Irene
Forsyte, and the way she had been seduced as a young woman by a man now entering
the highest corridors of power. It is
also an invaluable book for its from-life scenes of hectoring and speeches made
by suffragettes at Hyde Park and Trafalgar Square; these are easily the most
exciting scenes, and it is based on these scenes that I’d like to adapt this
book for radio.
Dr James Barry: A Woman Ahead of Her Time – Michael du Preez and Jeremy Dronfield
I think I had been vaguely conscious of Dr James Barry for a
long time, but in my young brain I think I got her a little mixed up with women
who masqueraded as men in the American Civil War (because Barry died during
that time period). Instead, her life as
a man began in the 1800s when she began studying medicine in Edinburgh. I think the reason Dr Barry is also not as
well-known as she should be is because there has been a lot of gaps and
misinformation about her life which this book now (2016) corrects. Her life is a mass of contradictions. Clearly, Margaret Bulkley from Cork, a niece
of once-famous painter James Barry, was ambitious and eager to leave the
poverty that her father and brother had dragged the family into. To do so, however, she had to live an
uncomfortable and dangerous lie for her entire life. She never had a chance to show her feminine
side, to have fulfilling romantic relationships (so far as we know, though
there is strong evidence she was in love with Lord Charles Somerset and the
feelings may have been reciprocated) or children, and she cut off complete
contact with her mother so that no one could discover her secret. A visionary doctor and a greater reformer
with compassion for the poor, Barry also had an explosive temper that rubbed
officialdom all the wrong ways. Yet,
during her life, she got to live in far-flung places that almost no woman of
her era would have had the opportunity to visit. I was a bit annoyed at the
beginning of the book by the speculation the authors indulged in, although as
the book proceeded and we were on firmer documentary ground, I was appreciative
of the work that went into the book.
Usually I get very sad by the end of biographies when the person’s life
ends, but the saddest moment of Barry’s life was when she was invalided out of
the service in Canada shortly after she was due to receive her pension. Without her work, her life was more or less
over.
The Help – Kathryn Stockett
I was, at first, disappointed to realize this was a novel,
not a memoir. Nevertheless, I found it
unputdownable and quite different from the (ever-so-slightly sanitized)
movie. The voices of the protagonists
were captured beautifully, with great verve, recreating in impressive
verisimilitude Mississippi of the early 1960s.
Storytelling Industries: Narrative Production in the 21st Century—Anthony Smith
I managed to read books by both of my theory colleagues at my
university and took a lot away from both of them. I admired the conciseness of this book as
well as its breadth of examples, from comics, film, television, and games.
Understanding Comics: The Invisible Art—Scott McCloud
This study was a revelation, and you wonder what took it so
long to get written. It may not be
flawless (as later criticism has revealed), but it’s a great, provocative
read.
Educated—Tara Westover
I was extremely impressed and gripped by this harrowing
memoir. It’s just as well that Westover
notes at the beginning that her text is not meant to comment negatively or
positively on Mormonism. Her background
is childhood off the grid with deluded, demented Mormon extremists; yet, the
poor woman still loves her parents, even though she is angry with them, and of
course devastated that they have cut her off after she ended the cycle of
violence with one of her brothers.
Fortunately, she had the example of one of her other brothers, who
helped her see that there was a way out of what she had grown up her entire
life believing. First it was college at
Brigham Young University; eventually, it was England and her PhD. It’s wonderfully written and never
pretentious.
Medieval Women: A Social History of Women in England 450-1500—Henrietta Leyser
This was a little slow-going sometimes, but mostly it was
very interesting, full of all kinds of facts about medieval English women that
I didn’t know. It was well-organized and
well-written, with a generally lively voice that was never flippant.
The Incredulity of Father Brown—G.K. Chesterton
This had such a slow start, I was beginning to wonder if it
had been a good gamble after all. I
found I much more enjoyed the stories with a real Gothic flavor, particularly
“The Curse of the Golden Cross” and “The Doom of the Darnaways,” even if Father
Brown exploded all the dark romance and hauntings as mere corporeal murders
(you have to wonder at Chesterton’s skill for blood-and-daggers, even if he is
debunking all the fun stuff). The rest
of it is “ooh look how modern we are in 1926” and mostly set in America. While I won’t deny it’s shrewdly written
satire of Americans, by my own caveat, I didn’t really come to Father Brown for
satire on Americans, I came for locked room mysteries set in Middle
England. So, as I say, a rather uneven
bunch of stories, but quite ingenious.
The Sisters Brothers—Patrick DeWitt
I had been intrigued by this book ever since it was
published (mainly because of the striking cover). Now, having finished it, I have to confess I
don’t quite know why it was nominated for the Booker Prize. I enjoyed it, I found it entertaining (if
depressing) as I read it, but it felt completely mundane, despite the somewhat
fantastic turn of events. Eli and
Charlie Sisters are assassins in the West of the 1850s, who are maimed and
reduced to penury all for teaming up with one of their targets to try to pan
gold by using an alchemical substance.
I’m sure it probably has some great allegorical meaning, but it wasn’t
obvious to me.
Broken Homes—Ben Aaronovitch
I don’t think the Peter Grant mysteries will ever top the
debut novel, Rivers of London. I was looking forward to one of the
novels set, this time, sauf’ of the river in Elephant and Castle, but I didn’t feel
like it gave you a real sense of what that actually means. It was mainly set in a condemned estate, much
like there is/was at the heart of Elephant and Castle, but much of it made
little sense to me, and I found the first half to be rather doddering. Nevertheless, in the second half it really
got going, with some exciting twists and turns and the set pieces that have
characterized every volume in the series.
The Halloween Mask and Other Strange Tales—David Stuart Davies
It beggars belief that he arranged the weakest stories as
his first four stories—especially as they ALL HAVE THE SAME TWIST. I was really about to give up reading, but
I’m glad I stuck with it, as there were actually several well-written stories,
such as “Sherlock Holmes and the Ghost of Christmas Past,” “I Know What You
Did,” “The Stigmata Skull,” and “The Oldest Ghost-Story Writer in the
Land.” The worst stories sounded just
like fan fic.
The Changing Spaces of Television Acting—Richard Hewett
While in many ways this book was utterly different from Storytelling Industries, it was an
interesting, detailed analysis of British TV case studies across time, from the
live, technically primitive productions of the 1950s to the 2000s, when
rehearsal time has become almost a thing of the past. Most impressive are Richard’s in depth analyses
of performance styles and changes in acceptable standards of these styles.
The Exorcist—William Peter Blatty
This book seemed very dated, and yet the last third was
rather exciting. It was difficult to find
much depth in the characters.
The Mammoth Book of Modern Ghost Stories—Ed. Peter Haining
This was an excellent collection with considerable
range. I found very little cross over of
stories that I had read before, though perhaps inevitably it began with stories
that are very Edwardian in flavor, even if they are considered classics.
They Came for Freedom: The Forgotten, Epic Adventure of the Pilgrims—Jay Milbrandt
I was quite skeptical as I began this book, as the author
comes from a law background and is not a professional historian. I also found his bibliography slightly
troubling, as he relied somewhat more extensively on online sources than I
would have thought advisable for a serious (if popular) history book. Nevertheless, he did provide useful footnotes
to where he made self-admitted leaps into subjectivity and conducted some primary
research as well. Indeed, the idea
behind the book—an attempt to show that the founders of what became the United
States of America were escaping from religious intolerance and indeed what an
absolute risk they took at every step in their process from living marginalized
in England and Holland to the total unknown on a distant shore—carries through
beautifully. In fact, having read it (it’s
somewhat short), I would recommend this book to anyone. It provides an honest tally of why the
Pilgrims came to the east coast of North America to settle and what they had to
go through in order to make their community a success.
The Pickwick Papers—Charles Dickens
I began this book late in 2017 and then was unable to pick
it up again until late in 2018.
Nevertheless, I did finish it at last.
While, at over 700 pages, it is not a book to be attempted lightly, it
is an extremely rewarding read. You
cannot help but be bowled over at Dickens’ youthful exuberance, providing
comedic, picaresque incidents for his wonderful characters. Certainly, you could argue the sprawling,
serialized story lacks the cohesion and maturity of his later works, but, for
crying out loud, he was still in his early 20s when it was written. Therefore, I think it’s hats off to Dickens
for one of his funniest ever works.
Also, you can see many seeds for later works sown in Pickwick.
Little Women—Louisa May Alcott
I mistakenly only read the first novel in the series that
comprises “Little Women,” which continues on into Good Wives and Little
Men. I found it very charming, with
beautifully drawn characters and a strong sense of the seasonality of American
life mid-19th century. The
morality is a little bit more difficult to absorb, bald as it is, though in its
original function as a novel for young women to read, I’m sure it more than
succeeded in influencing generations of selfless, compassionate, loving, yet
morally upright and uncompromising girls.
I was surprised by how funny I found it.
Bad Santas and Other Creepy Christmas Characters—Paul Hawkins
I enjoyed this popular history book and cultural survey of
the multitude of wintertime figures who have, to some extent, coalesced into
the modern Santa Claus whom, Hawkins argues, is a bit of a palimpsest—though for
how much longer he will occupy this role is a matter for speculation. I thought I knew a lot about Santa Claus and
Christmas lore, but I hadn’t appreciated how little factual evidence we have
for St Nicholas himself, nor the many fascinating reminders of a savage past
that are extent in figures like not only the Krampus, but the Christmas Cat and
many others. I learned a lot about the
origins of Sinterklaas and figures like Christkindl. In short, I was rather impressed by this
book. Half-baked histories of Christmas
are a-dime a-dozen, but Bad Santas is
ahead of the crowd.
Wade in the Water—Tracy K. Smith
Having never before read anything by Tracy K. Smith (the
Poet Laureate of the United States), I was impressed with her range—not only in
subject matter, which is always politically and socially conscious, but in
form. This is an excellent collection of
modern poetry.
I read more graphic novels this year than I remembered.
Doctor Who: Weapons of Past Destruction—by Cavan Scott—art by Blair Shedd, Rachael Stott, Anang Setyawan (Titan, the Ninth Doctor, Vol. 1)
While I can easily slip back into the world of the Ninth
Doctor on TV, jumping back into the world of Captain Jack (pre-immortality) and
Rose Tyler (pre-Bad Wolf) is a bit harder than I expected. The Ninth Doctor is written consistently,
though his turn-on-the-edge-of-a-knife split between goofy humor and angst
seems somehow more labored in print than on screen. There was something about the story that
reminded me very much of the epic yet home-in-time-for-tea scope of The Tides of Time. The art is very good, the likenesses of
Rose in particular very faithful, though the tendency to use silhouettes
becomes noticeable after awhile.
Roller Girl—Victoria Jamieson
I really enjoyed this book and the story of Astrid Vasquez,
a non-gender-conforming pre-teen who decides to take up roller derby despite
being a terrible skater. At the same
time, her friendship with more typically girly-girl Nicole is failing due to
the pressures of growing up. Astrid has
to learn to manage her anger, not lie to her mother, be a true friend, and
accept that it takes all sorts to make a world.
That doesn’t mean she has to give up her favorite color (black) or take
ballet lessons (like Nicole). It’s also very amusing that Astrid’s new friend Zoey
loves musicals and Hugh Jackman. I got
very personally involved in Astrid because of her gender-nonconformity, but I
felt a bit cheated because, to all intents and purposes, this is a fictional
story instead of a memoir (which somehow made it feel less real to me?).
Scalped Vol. 6 The Gnawing – by Jason Aaron, art by R.M. Guéra, Guilia Brusco
In 2018, I finally began my Scalped re-read/conclusion, after having acquired all 10 volumes in
2017. I was as astonished as ever at the
first four volumes, which were stunning in their assured approach to character
and narrative. The Gnawing is extremely violent.
I realize that may seem an oxymoronic thing to say when Scalped throughout is more violent than
your worst action films. However, I felt
this volume of TP took it beyond serving the needs of the story and was just
reveling in it . . . because Jason Aaron wanted to? I appreciate the insights it gave us into Red
Cloud, who I did think was fast becoming the most interesting character in Scalped (more so than Bad Horse, who as
a drug addict was not very interesting).
I was impressed with the way Bad Horse managed to extricate himself from
an impossible situation, showing that cleaned up he has what it takes to be a
double agent (which I was starting to wonder).
Scalped Vol. 7 Rez Blues – by Jason Aaron, art by R.M. Guéra, Danijel Zezelj, Davide Furnò, Guilia Brusco, Trish Mulvihill
Rez Blues picked
up a little for me, where The Gnawing had
been such a downer. First of all, we
finally got to the Shunka-is-gay storyline that I had accidentally spoilered
myself on, which gave us one of the greatest cliffhangers of the whole series
(and Scalped dazzles with its
cliffhangers) at the end of part 1 of “A Fine Action of an Honorable and
Catholic Spaniard.” This was an
interesting and clever storyline, playing with narrative, again, in a way that
showed Aaron was still at the top of his game.
“Family Tradition” dropped another bombshell, bringing in Wade, Dash’s
father, who had been absent from most of Scalped. It was a bit like Miss Saigon told from a slightly different point of view. I was harping on about wanting some
legitimate female characters in Scalped, and
while we didn’t really get any in Rez
Blues, Carol, at last, is developing beyond a nymphomaniac drug
addict. I am hoping that Granny Poor
Bear’s influence on her will help her to become an even more individualized
character rather than just a poster girl for abortions. Wade returns, further complicating everyone’s
lives. At the end of The Gnawing, Catcher had a bullet for
someone, but who?
Founding Fathers Funnies – by Peter Bagge
In honor of 4th of July, I picked up this short
and amusing collection by Peter Bagge, which tells (almost 100% historically
accurate) tales of George Washington, John Hancock, Benjamin Franklin, James
Madison, Thomas Jefferson, John Adams, and a host of other figures (including
several who are less well-known). I was
impressed with the level of historical accuracy as well as the goofy
style.
Scalped Vol. 8 You Gotta Sin to Be Saved—by Jason Aaron, art by R.M. Guéra, Jason LaTour, and Davide Furnò
I use the term “jumped the shark” advisedly, but I’m a
little concerned that Scalped jumped
the shark in volume 8. Nothing about the
tone or necessarily the characters changed; I just started to feel like the
situations were contrived, something I’ve not felt even a hint of before. I guess you can shrug everything Catcher has
done off as “well, he’s crazy,” but that doesn’t really satisfy here. I feel a bit like vol. 8 is treading water
instead of bringing us any new story.
Scalped Vol. 9 Knuckle Up—by Jason Aaron, art by R.M. Guéra, Igor Kordey, Tim Truman, Jill Thompson, Jordi Bernet, Denys Cowan, Dean Haspiel, Brendan McCarthy, Steve Dillon
Scalped Vol. 10 Trail’s End—by Jason Aaron, art by R.M. Guéra
I didn’t record my thoughts at the time on the final two
volumes of Scalped, but I do remember
feelings satisfied with the series’ conclusion.
Of the 45 books I read this year, 36% were fiction, 42% were
nonfiction, a paltry 4% were poetry, and 18% were graphic novels.
