Part two of my yearly look back on what I read this year
Chapter Books Total | 90 | Total Contributors | 106 or 108 | |||
Gender | Male | Female | Non-Binary | |||
60 | 42 | 6 | ||||
55.56% | 38.89% | 5.56% | ||||
Race | Black | White | Asian | Latine | Native | Mixed/Other |
14 | 62 | 25 | 2 | 1 | 2 | |
13.21% | 58.49% | 23.58% | 1.89% | 0.94% | 1.89% | |
Format | Audiobook | Graphic Novel | Traditional | Ebook | ||
14 | 22 | 40 | 14 | |||
15.56% | 24.44% | 44.44% | 15.56% |
Let’s start with the stats. I read 90 books this year, which is perhaps the most I’ve ever read. I read a lot as a child, so maybe when I was 11 or 12 I read more books, but even so I’m pretty pleased to have gotten so close to 100. The past two years have really been a reading renaissance for me (72 last year, up from 32 the year before that), and I’m glad to be rediscovering this childhood passion!
I’m not so excited about the racial tilt of the books I read. This is actually less books by Asian authors than I read last year, and about the same for Latine and Native authors. I about tripled the number of Black authors I read from last year, so that’s something to build on. I’m going to focus on finding more works by authors of color, particularly Latine and Native folks, this year.
I’m not as worried about the gender disparity in my reading this year. This year is a bit of an outlier compared to previous years, which tend to be a 60/40 split leaning toward women. I think there are a couple quirks of this year that tilted things toward male authors, one being the Year of Sanderson, and another being a quirk of how I count contributors. Since I consider the identity of everyone who contributed to a book, graphic novels with multiple illustrators have an outsized effect on my documentation system. So when I read all 6 volumes of Paper Girls, which has a male writer and two male artists, I suddenly have 18 male contributors from 6 books. This could be offset by reading graphic novels with all female teams, but Monstress had too much body horror for me. I think the system works well for picture books, but for longer works I might switch back to my old system of documenting each book only once regardless of how many contributors there are, and then marking it as male, female, non-binary, or mixed gender group depending on the composition of the team.
I also want to note an uptick in non-binary authors from years past. Although I am seeking out non-binary authors, and made a special mission to find YA and middle grade non-binary authors, I think this shift actually has more to do with more non-binary authors getting published over time, making the general pool more diverse.
And finally, looking at the format of the books I read, I feel I’ve finally found a distribution that feels natural. That feels funny to say since this was an immense jump for both ebooks and traditional books, but it’s true. Throughout the year I generally had one ebook, one audiobook, and one traditional book going at any given time, with graphic novels sprinkled through when I felt stuck in a rut or wanted to have the fun of zipping through something. This balance was nice because it meant I could also diversify what kinds of things I was reading. One could be my more serious book, one could be more for entertainment, and one could be something else to balance things out, like something nonfiction or with less viewpoints to keep track of. I’m hoping I can keep this rhythm going!
I think it’s interesting the way that certain life events can be seen in the shape of my reading. Last year, I read even more audiobooks than I did this year, In large part because of the large and relatively frequent car trips I was making early in the year when my paternal grandmother was dying. This year the life event was the birth of our first child, and the thing that kept me reading was novellas in ebook format on my phone. In particular, I have a very strong sense memory association between rocking Orion to sleep while reading Martha Wells’ stellar Murderbot Diaries series, to the point that recalling plot elements from the first book also call to mind images of his room and swaddled body.
Well that’s enough data, on to the books! It’s a messy top fifteen! I’m not beholden to anyone, no rules!
Uglies (and the first half of Pretties) by Scott Westerfeld
A friend of mine has been telling me that I would love these books for a long time, and he was right. There are only two ways problems get solved in this YA dystopia: sick aerial acrobatics and questioning the base assumptions of your society. I love it, and when I originally wrote this these were in my top ten (then a top eleven). Unfortunately Specials, the third book in the series, completely missed the mark for me, in part because of [spoilers], but in part because the main character is extremely passive throughout. As I sat with this disappointment I realized that the main character had actually been pretty passive throughout, it had just been well hidden by all the cool worldbuilding and kickflips that were happening. This realization has tarnished the shine somewhat, but not so much that my friend doesn’t still get to gloat about how good a fit these books are for my interests.
Hunt, Gather, Parent by Michaeleen Doucleff
My changing perceptions based on time and reflection is going to be a theme here. When I read this nonfiction book about parenting I was initially unimpressed. This well-to-do white lady has so little parenting support that she needed to travel to several continents and spend time with people in remote places to uncover the true secrets of parenting. Secrets no one in the Western world has any conception of, things like, encouraging your child’s autonomy, and setting boundaries in a matter-of-fact. As someone trained in the Montessori Method, I couldn’t help but roll my eyes and try to resist the temptation to send along a copy of the Absorbent Mind during these sections of dramatic pronouncement. On reflection though, this is arrogant and misguided of me. Although some of her pronouncements may still feel overblown, there were still new ideas here for me that were well explained and illustrated with evocative examples. The fact that many of the cultural ideas she identifies as obstacles to child development in western society are the same ones Dr. Montessori was pointing out the flaws in 100 years ago, and the fact that the strategies people around the world have found to aid child development align so well with Montessori practice, shouldn’t induce feelings of smug superiority, but excitement at their corroboration and extension. So while I hope the author has discovered the joy of Montessori (and many other child development experts) by now, I’m also glad to have discovered this book. I have thought about it often since reading it, and I’m sure I will refer to it in the future as well.
The Jasmine Throne by Tasha Suri
The last in the “I changed my mind” trilogy is The Jasmine Throne. This epic fantasy set in vaguely Medieval India was good, but didn’t feel particularly special. I slowly wound my way through, enjoying the main character’s hard work to build a better world for herself and her people despite the crushing weight of cruel empire, while also maintaining her strong moral convictions. Good, but not something I was going around recommending to everyone I knew… until I read Babel by R F Kuang. I also slowly wound through Babel until about the halfway point, when I then read the remaining 50% in about a day and a half. It is hard to say whether I consumed the book, or it consumed me. In the end I was left somewhat disappointed though. Babel’s full title is Babel: Or the Necessity of Violence: An Arcane History of the Oxford Translators’ Revolution, and I felt like the way the book was framed really left the question of the necessity of violence as a big question mark. This part of the subtitle is what had initially drawn me to the book, and now as I searched for a way to conceptualize what I wished I had read, I realized that the blueprint for what I wanted already existed. Where Babel leaves you at the precipice of resolution, wondering what the results of violent resistance will be, Jasmine Throne lets multiple forms of violence play out through several storylines, following them through to their aftermath and allowing us to compare how different character’s relationship to violence affects their quest for justice, social change, and their loved ones. Babel is good, but with time to reflect I’ve come around to the idea that Jasmine Throne is truly great, and I can’t wait to experience the further struggles, and consequences of struggle, in the rest of the series.
Whale Song, from Apsara Engine by Bishakh Som
Apsara Engine, a collection of comics by an Indian-American trans woman, was a bit of a mixed bag for me. Many of the comics felt like the written equivalent of a breakup song, and I like a good break up song now and again, but it’s not really where my heart is. Whale Song, a comic about two trans Indian Americans drawing utopian maps with their own blood as a form of romantic connection, is just about exactly where my heart is. The written equivalent of a punk song about hope, these two people who, in the act of imagining utopia, create their own utopia, fill me with a wild sense of joy and an ache of longing. Plus, I mean c’mon guys there’s maps! I’ll be thinking about this one for a long time, and may have to buy Apsara Engine just so I can re-read this story whenever I want.
How the Word is Passed by Clint Smith
I read this last year, but I reread it again for a book discussion with my family. It was my book of the year last year, and is one of my all time favorite books. Clint Smith’s nonfiction masterpiece explores the ways that society tells the story (or doesn’t tell the story when it really really ought to be) of slavery. I find that books that cover heavy, important topics like this can leave me weary, demoralized, and unsure of what to do next. Educating yourself is valuable, but difficult work. How the Word is Passed doesn’t sugarcoat the horrors of human slavery, but finds a way through centering humanness–of the slaves, of their descendents, of the people working to help them tell their own stories–to make me feel a wider range of emotions. Outrage, yes, but also wonder, compassion, and even hope. As an example, Clint Smith details an incredible chain of events: environmental and social groups pressure the government to require an oil company to compile a report about the land they are buying. The report includes information about the legacy of slavery in the area. When a rich white man buys the land looking to flip it for profit, he reads the report, and discovers a need to make things right, to pass on the story. Today this former plantation showing clearly a history that in many places is erased, denied, or minimized. All of this in a form of prose that perfectly combines an easy to understand informational style with poetic description and juxtaposition which so perfectly matches this telling of human stories.
My Body Created a Human: A Love Story by Emma Ahlqvist
This was very much a right-book, right-time situation for me. I read this small graphic non-fiction about pregnancy and having a child shortly after our baby was born. I felt very seen and this work captured a lot of the feelings, the big rushing feelings and the small humdrum ones, of this piece of life. I would very much like to go back and read it again to remind myself of all those feelings at some point in the future.
The Happy Sleeper: The Science-Backed Guide to Helping Your Baby Get a Good Night’s Sleep-Newborn to School Age, by Heather Turgeon MFT and Julie Wright MFT
Sticking with the baby theme, this book was the single most important baby book I read last year. As the subtitle says, it’s a book about helping your child sleep well (and, therefore, you the parent sleeping well). Aside from being an immensely useful practical resource written in clear and simple way such that even a sleep deprived goofus could get a clear sense of what they were saying, many of the ideas they use line up well with my own parenting philosophies and strategies. One piece in particular that stands out is the advice to “stay curious about what your child is capable of.” I think it pairs well with Montessori’s “unnecessary help is an obstacle to development.” A child may need a particular kind of help one day, but then want the chance to try on their own the next. They may even still need that help, but giving the chance to try will help them learn and grow. Pushing the idea beyond sleep, and even beyond children, it also feels like an idea laden with grace: people can change, stay curious.
Exit Strategy/The Murderbot Diaries, by Martha Wells
A series about an extremely competent murder machine that just wants idiot humans to leave it alone so it can watch soap operas, but said idiot humans are always putting themselves into dangerous situations that require our hero’s intervention. I read the first three this past year, and what started as “not-unmeaningful popcorn” in the first book had me crying by the third. The thing is, these are so fun and well paced that even as just particularly good popcorn books these would have been my best books of the year. I don’t want to spoil anything, but as more emotional connection got drizzled into these already great snack sized novellas they vaulted into my best of all time category. Beyond their superfluous merit, thinking about these books, and in particular the first one, will also always call to mind sense memories of rocking baby Orion to sleep. Personal time was limited, and I needed something I could pick up easily (my phone) and put down at a moment’s notice (not a game). The short length meant that I could feel I was making progress, even if I only had 3-5 minutes before the next baby need manifested. Fuzzy feelings all around for this one.
House on the Cerulean Sea, by TJ Klune
A feel good romance about gay men running an orphanage for magical children together, everyone who recommended this book to me was absolutely right, I loved it. While the arc of the story is sweet and tender, it is set against a backdrop of impersonal and oppressive forces at the bureau that runs the orphanages. The history of the orphanages calls to mind Native American boarding schools, and while the current orphanages in this world are not that, the book does an interesting job showing the adult characters grappling with how they make sense of their place as educators in an obviously flawed system with a painful history. Can these characters do right by the children within such a system? Should they even try? Spoilers, the answer here is yes and yes. The orphanage keeper also employs a method of experiential learning, giving the children as much freedom as they can handle, and pursuing their personal interests as a method to further their knowledge and self-concept simultaneously, which of course tickles my Montessorian heart.
The Sunlit Man, by Brandon Sanderson
Another well paced sci-fi adventure that falls into that “not-unmeaningful popcorn” zone. Sometimes you just need to have fun, and you want that fun to also be at least kinda in line with your feelings about what is right in the world. Fury Road versus James Bond. That kind of thing. Sunlit Man is a rollicking good time about rediscovering your sense of morality, taking down a despot, and finding ways to move beyond a scarcity mindset. The portrayal of the main character’s struggle and growth through action scenes is very well done, definitely one to read if you want to see how action scenes can drive forward the plot. Also, at one point the main character sat down to do some math and my true reaction was “wooo, hell yeah what incredible character growth.” If you want this experience as well, you should read this book.
Tress of the Emerald Sea, by Brandon Sanderson
This was a good one to start the year with, and has the feel of a family favorite for years to come. Tress is a classic tale of a young woman seeking her place in the world. That her world consists of rocky islands in a sea of churning magical spores is not immaterial. Funny, satisfying, and heartfelt, you can feel the stated influences of Princess Bride and Terry Pratchett within, as well as Brandon Sanderson’s calling cards of excellent pacing, compelling characters, and intriguing magical world. Although some aspects of the end don’t land quite the way I wanted them to, this feminist retelling of the Princess Bride was a fantastic journey that left me feeling warm with laughter and fuzzy with good feeling.
The Sentence, by Louise Erdrich
For some of these books I haven’t thought too hard about keeping things spoiler free, but I don’t want to give away too much about The Sentence. There’s a certain amount of cheekiness to this novel, and I’d like to help preserve some of the surprise aspect of that cheekiness. I listened to this one as an audiobook read by the author and can greatly recommend the experience. Forever locked in my memory is Louise Erdich’s exact intonation as she channels the main character’s wheedling friend as she cries, “Budgie my soullll!” This is maybe not enough to convince you that The Sentence is a must-read, so let me tell you this: through the main character you can feel exhaustion, get tangled up in community, make mistakes, celebrate life, argue about wild rice, read about a sexy sasquatch, and deliver books to someone who becomes your friend. Unless you are already living this intriguing life (in which case, why are you reading this?!) get in there and experience it!
Lessons in Chemistry, by Bonnie Garmus
Sometimes all the hype you hear about a book is true. I dragged my feet reading this because I am a hipster at heart. I’m glad my partner Wendy read it so that I had someone closer to home to assure me that it was, in fact, appropriately hyped. If you haven’t read it, read it. If you have read it, maybe you want to reread it together?
Superman Smashes the Klan, by Gene Luen Yang and illustrated by Gurihiru
I’m not much of a fan of superhero media. Aside from the big flaw that heroes often punish petty criminals while leaving destructive systems of power intact, the convoluted storylines, cashgrab reboots, toxic gatekeeping of hardcore fans, and the way every storyline needs to reset things to the status quo so the hero can keep doing hero things which prevents meaningful stakes all combine to generally keep me away. So when I saw the word “Superman” while looking at graphic novels my eyes were already half glazed over. But when I saw “Smashes the Klan,” my eyes widened again in interest. A meaningful storylines where the hero dismantles a destructive system of power? White supremacists getting dunked on? Seeing the author was Gene Luen Yang sealed the deal for me, as I deeply enjoyed Boxers and Saints. I was not disappointed. Superman Smashes the Klan is an excellent tale of the immigrant experience, told in parallel between a family recently moved to Metropolis and the titular Superman. Indeed, one of its key strengths in my opinion is the way that ordinary people get to be part of the struggle. You don’t need to be a superhero to work on dismantling racism, it turns out. I also enjoyed the complexity of the White perpetrators of racism: some are people whose minds can be changed; some might be willing to change their minds down the line, but need to be stopped now regardless because their actions are causing harm; some are cynically using racism to further their own greedy purposes. It was also exciting to see Superman’s immigrant origin story explored and unpacked as a metaphor for the way that celebrating and finding recognition for your home culture can help you find a greater sense of power and self worth. Celebrating where you’re from in the face of adversity probably won’t unlock laser beams from your eyes, but it’s worth a shot.
Ducks, by Kate Beaton
I knew of this author from my college and early post-college days from her time doing Hark, A Vagrant!, a very funny history webcomic from the webcomics heyday. I knew going in that her memoir Ducks would be a distinct tonal shift from her previous work, much like Hyperbole and a Half author Allie Brosh’s shift from goofy anecdotes to tales of personal struggle in Solutions and Other Problems. Like Alllie Brosh, Kate Beaton successfully makes the shift from comedy to somber reflection (with a bit of humor still sprinkled in of course), along the way demonstrating keen observation of humanity, and a well considered choice of vignettes to tell her story. What’s more, she clearly connects this personal tale to the wider context of our world, as we see the ways that sexism, corporate greed, and immense student debt combine to impact the lives of ordinary people, and the ways that ordinary people make choices within these systems to try and create a better future where they can.