Happy December, everyone! I’m taking the month to tackle Dickens’s David Copperfield. Maybe because of Scrooge et al, I can’t help associating Dickens’s style with Christmas, and Copperfield is putting me in high holiday spirits. I have a feeling it will be one of my favorite reads of the year, but as I’m a long way off from finishing the book, here are my other favorite reads of 2023:
Accidents in the Home by Tessa Hadley. I’m planning an Ode to Tessa Hadley post soon. But just know that this woman is a genius and I’m hoping to model my novel-in-progress on the structure here. A domestic tale told from several viewpoints. It’s her debut novel and she’s only gained in powers with time, but this burst onto the scene is the energetic winner of her canon, IMO.
My Name is Lucy Barton by Elizabeth Strout. My love for Strout is well-documented. I’d read every book in this series but this one (the first!) Why? I think I thought it would be a heavy recounting of Lucy’s abusive childhood and never felt able to bear it. But it turns out, it was something entirely different. So, well—Lucy. It was honestly magical. I can see myself re-reading it many times over.
Angels by Denis Johnson. Another book of firsts! As in, Johnson’s debut. It was mentioned on LitHub as one of the most underrated novels of all time and of course, I was intrigued. After all, Train Dreams is one of my all-time favorites! This novel felt received by the author, rather than written. The best comparison I have is to Lynda Barry’s Cruddy: jolting and dark and fueled by raw creative magic. An underworldly experience.
The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson. I’ve long held an aversion to Shirley Jackson. Maybe because I’m a baby and can tolerate very little that is “scary.” Maybe because my previewed glimpses of Netflix remakes of her work only reinforced the belief that Hill House was “scary.” But then I listened to a talk by Benjamin Dreyer (incidentally Elizabeth Strout’s editor!), where he extolled the brilliance of Shirley Jackson. I thought it would be a perfect summer read-aloud with my teen daughters, who have much more interest in scary things than their mother. I’m happy to report that I grossly miscategorized her. The book was more thrill than horror, marked by masterful characterization and storytelling and wit. In short, it was an absolute treat, and I look forward to reading more of her.
Small Things Like These by Clare Keegan. A deeply moving story about a man who discovers a severely neglected girl locked in the convent coal shed in 1980s Ireland. Side note: There’s a beautiful film adaptation of Keegan’s other beautiful novella, Foster, that you should definitely queue up.
Clever Girl by Tessa Hadley. Hadley strikes again! Told in the first person and skipping ahead years with each chapter, we watch Stella’s life unfold in post-war England. It may not sound gripping, but it is.
The Transit of Venus by Shirley Hazzard. The classic you may never have heard of in which two Australian orphan sisters make their way in the world of mid-century England. It’s a book with an underground cult-like devotion (not unlike the one surrounding John William’s Stoner) and I am happy to add my name to the membership roster. The writing is so brilliant you’ll despair of ever trying again yourself.
We Were the Mulvaneys by Joyce Carol Oates. More devastation! The charming, quirky, loving Mulvaneys fall into emotional (and financial) ruin after their beloved daughter is raped. Why would you want to read such a thing, you ask? Because it’s also beautiful and piercing and full of redemption. I’m on a mission to backfill my shelves with Oates's backlist.
The Postcard by Anne Berest. Autofiction focused on Berest’s great-grandparents and great-aunt and uncle, Jewish immigrants living in Paris who were murdered in the Holocaust. A gripping and devastating story.
August Blue by Deborah Levy. This novel (about a concert pianist who walks off stage in the middle of a performance to sort out her inner life) was short and beautiful and felt like poetry. I’m listing it last but it may as well be first in terms of enjoyment. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.
What were your favorite books this year?
Cheers,
Lacy
P.S. One last book that hugely impacted me this year (and was not a novel): The Art of Possibility by Rosamund and Benjamin Zander. A truckload of optimism delivered right to the heart. Watch Philharmonic conductor Ben Zander’s TED Talk on The Transformative Power of Classical Music to get a small taste.