The first November day that I walk outside and can’t feel my nose, I know that the year is almost over and that a new one will soon begin. (Maybe it’s also because people think it’s appropriate to start playing Christmas music the minute Halloween ends.) Today was that day in Philadelphia, and so I’m starting to reflect on the Year That Was and look forward to the Year That Will Be.
One of the major facets of 2019 for me was literature. My year’s resolution was to read at least 52 books throughout the year. I’ll talk another time about the salubrious effects the activity has had on my emotional and intellectual health… because this week, it’s time to categorize the 46 books I’ve read so far!
As with most things here, this is mostly for my own benefit, since I don’t want to forget the best books I read this year. But I’m also making this list before Thanksgiving intentionally, because the three people who read this might want to put one of these on their Christmas list or something. And even if no interest is piqued whatsoever by my reading list, I guarantee that my faux-award-show style will win over hearts and minds alike… because I hereby present the FIRST ANNUAL POLEY AWARDS!
Tonight’s first Poley Award goes to the books that should be read, even when reading feels like a chore. Drumroll, please…
The Poley for “Highest Quality-To-Page Ratio” goes to…
(Rolls right off the tongue, doesn’t it?) If I only had one day a week to read, I would read these. They’re succinct, engaging, and often profound.
- The Wandering Earth by Cixin Liu. Short stories by the East’s most prominent sci-fi writer, each of them as finely crafted as the Apollo 11. There’s even a story Liu writes featuring himself as a drunkard and a plagiarist who accidentally kills humanity (oops, spoiler). What’s not to like?
- How Long ‘Til Black Future Month? by N.K. Jemisin. Jemisin is to fantasy as Baldwin was to memoir; she is to short stories as duBois was to essays. Seriously. This collection of gems is really that good. And even better, everything Jemisin writes is pure gold, especially her first-series-in-history-to-win-the-Hugo-Award-for-each-entry Broken Earth trilogy. This is as good an entry point as any into the writings of Jemisin, who I suspect will prove the most influential fantasy author since Tolkien.
The Poley for “Oops, I haven’t showered and I’m three hours late to work” goes to…
This Poley goes to the books that are so totally engrossing that one’s spouse must employ physical force to get one to put it down. And forget about maintaining a regular sleep schedule, because the rising action of the plot begins with 400 pages to go… And somehow, I don’t mind at all the next day, because the book was so good that staying up ’til 3 AM was worth it.
- The Grace of Kings and The Wall of Storms: The Dandelion Dynasty by Ken Liu. Ken Liu is most famous for translating Cixin Liu’s Three-Body Problem into English, but don’t be fooled — Ken himself is a highly accomplished author, as these two books prove. Liu writes a world every bit as compelling as Hogwarts or Middle Earth, except he draws influence from Eastern myth instead of the well-trodden Norse/Germanic legends. And even better, his characters are themselves fully Eastern, every villain and protagonist equally full of tragic flaws and heroic virtue. The Dandelion Dynasty is a wholly original, entirely compelling delight for this hopelessly Western reader.
- Lethal White by Robert Galbraith. Turns out Galbraith is the pseudonym of none other than J.K. Rowling. Given that Harry Potter 1-5 are essentially detective stories, it makes total sense that Rowling would write complex mysteries for adult audiences, too. Lethal White is the newest in her Cormoran Strike series, and it’s by far the best yet.
- The Priory of the Orange Tree by Samantha Shannon. Whereas the prior two awardees are each multi-book series pushing 2,000 pages each, Priory is relatively lightweight, at a slim 800. And, because Priory is essentially what happens if the cast of Pride and Prejudice are trained in sorcery, given control of queendoms, and engaged in millennia-long wars with dragons… well, let’s just say those 800 pages go by quicker than I thought possible.
The Poley for “Most Novel Novel” goes to…
- Angelmaker and The Gone-Away World by Nick Harkaway. Athough I believe Qoheleth was mostly right that “there is nothing new under the sun”, I don’t think s/he ever imagined that Nick Harkaway would set pen to page. Here, my friends, is something new. These books are lavishly written yarns blending gangsters, kung fu, existential quandaries, anti-nuclear undertones, and laugh-out-loud humor (I brought Harkaway to jury duty and laughed so uncontrollably that the judge gave me lifelong exemption from jury service — try it!). One of Angelmaker‘s reviewers claims that Harkaway has invented the genre of “existential pulp”, and I couldn’t agree more.
- Uprooted and Spinning Silver by Naomi Novik. Who would have thought to combine the story of Rumpelstiltskin with demon-possession and Jötunn-like ice beings, all without leaving the cozily Jewish locales of Eastern Europe? Not me, that’s for sure. But Naomi Novik does, and it’s an utter delight. Her leading ladies (for both these novels follow young women) are headstrong, brave, foolish, and completely believable, and I love every minute of it.
The astute observer will by now notice a theme in my favorite fiction of the year: the best fiction of 2019 tells completely fresh stories of fantasy and sci-fi, without resorting to the patriarchal, Western-centric worldview that has dominated the genres ever since Tolkien and Wells. Simply put, the world has enough copy-cats of Tolkien (ooh, burn, Mr. Martin), enough male wish-fulfillment with pointy elf ears (ooh, burn, Eldest), enough chauvinistic re-tellings of The Age of Exploration (ooh, burn, Messrs. J.S.A. Corey), and enough poorly-written imaginings of the same (ooh, burn, Dune).
If one of fiction’s many functions is to teach us empathy, we simply need fiction told from the perspective of strong women, black mothers, infirm gay men, Eastern pantheons unconcerned with religion, and superspy octogenarians. Every bit as strongly as Grapes of Wrath or Go Set a Watchman or Guernica, these works remind me that my worldview is not the only one that matters. (And it helps that these books are also enthralling experiences of themselves!)
The “I’d like it better with pictures” Poley
These are the series for when I just can’t bear to read another complete sentence. (Hint: They’re comic books.)
- Star Wars: Doctor Aphra by Si Spurrier. Imagine if Indiana Jones were 1) female, 2) in Star Wars, and 3) had slightly edited lines, i.e. “This belongs in
a museuman armory!” The result is Doctor Aphra, rogue archaeologist of the Star Wars universe. She’s primarily out for profit, but (of course) her version of entrepreneurship tends to make a lot of enemies, including Darth Vader, a murderous 3PO unit, ex-lovers aplenty, and long-dead Jedi ghosts. It’s classic Star Wars fun, made poignant by Aphra’s tendency to be at once completely lovable and morally despicable. (It also doesn’t hurt that the legendary illustrator Kev Walker lends his talents to the series.) - Vader: Lord of the Sith by Charles Soule. This is an enfranchised enough title that I won’t recommend this for any but the most devoted Star Wars fans, but boy, does it reward those folks. I mean, where else does one see Jocasta Nu facing off against Darth Vader? How else could one learn why Vader’s fortress was built on Mustafar? It’s a very deep series, but immensely rewarding (I’ll say no more for fear of spoilers).
- Batman: White Knight by Sean Murphy and Matt Hollingsworth. Murphy and Hollingsworth are my favorite art team in all of comics, ever. It feels so… comic-y, with exacting pencilwork, dynamic motion, gorgeous scenery, and an overall vibrant pulpy cool that cannot be achieved in any other medium. Essentially, this team has seen the potential of comics as an art form, and actualized that potential to the utmost. I first saw their work in Tokyo Ghost, which is as beautiful in its first pages as it is ugly and depressing in the last (so I won’t wholeheartedly recommend that series), but White Knight offers the same art with a decidedly more upbeat take on the human condition. Boy, it is beautiful (and the story is good, too!). Look, just see for yourself:
The “Prop Your Furniture Up With This” Poley
Yeah, not all of my 46 books were joys this year. I read some that negatively and flagrantly violated my expectations, which is a surefire way in my home for a book to find itself acting as structural reinforcement for potted plants. (And, for the record, I’m firmly in the “quitting books is a good way to read books you actually like” camp, so I didn’t finish any of these, but I did push through my initial discomfort just to be sure it wasn’t just my imagination.)
- An Examined Life by Stephen Grosz. Sounds like an awesome book about philosophy, right? It certainly evokes Socrates’ famous quote. But no, this is a book about a “doctor’s” psychoanalysis practice. Pass.
- Shadow of the Torturer by Gene Wolfe. I don’t dislike Wolfe categorically, but this is one of those derivative fantasy stories I mentioned before — lone male hero mysteriously attracting beautiful women whilst racking up an impressive body count, using SAT vocab like it’s going out of fashion, and overcoming impossible odds in a ubermensch-ian fashion. At least Ayn Rand had “classic literature” going for her.
- Black Leopard, Red Wolf by Marlon James. It looked like everything I wanted out of a novel — striking cover art (yes, I’m that simple), a fantasy story told in the tradition of African folklore, and the makings of an epic series. I was all in… until I got through the first two chapters, which involved vision quests and the sexual conquest of old crones. It reads like JD Salinger got hopped up on antifreeze and Sharpie fumes, and then channeled his inner Chinua Achebe to the max. I’m all for dark and shocking literature (Lord of the Flies is one of my all-time favorites), but a man’s got limits, and one of my limits involves drug-fueled, graphic gerontophilia, as I discovered to my dismay. This is the one I’m most likely to give another try, but I’ll have to hear excellent things about it first.
The “Superlative dinner party conversation” Poley
These are the books that won’t quite fit anywhere else, but I loved them so much I feel a need to talk about them, and I’m sure you will too. Buy them in case you need to annotate liberally.
- Satan: The Early Christian Tradition by Jeffrey Burton Russell. What is evil? (Easy question, right?) Russell gives a valiant attempt to answer this question by tracing the Western history of evil, specifically through its most famous personification, the Devil. It’s surprising how much the reflection on ancient evil can lead to benefits in everyday life. (Bonus points if you read it on public transit — you’ll draw more stares than when Fifty Shades was in vogue.)
- When Einstein Walked with Godel by J. Holt. This essay collection is a succinct, everyman’s primer to the most significant developments at the frontiers of science and math in the past century. It’s hard to describe simply because of its breadth and the dexterity with which Holt describes these broad topics. These essays can also be found on NY Times, but why not support your local library and rent it?
Okay, that was a lot of great Poleys (*applause*), but I’ve been saving the best for last. That’s right, ladies and gents, I’m presenting …
The “Dangerously likely to change my life” Poley
These are the books that I simultaneously dread and revere: the former, because I know that each page makes it more likely that the foundations of my life are shaken to the core, and the latter because I know that each page is vitally and completely essential.
And note that I didn’t agree with everything presented in these books — but grappling with these ideas, whether I end up agreeing or not, is the act that threatens to change my life.
- Just Mercy by Bryan Stevenson. Stevenson is a lawyer best known for arguing the Supreme Court case that ruled unconstitutional the mandatory sentencing of minors to life in prison without parole. This book tells that story, among others, and these stories are vitally important. I don’t want to say much more, because my words can’t do justice to the importance of these topics, so go watch the linked TED talk right now and then go read this book. “Our humanity depends on everybody’s humanity. Instead of asking whether the convict deserves to die, we should ask whether we deserve to kill.”
- What Matters? Economics for a Renewed Commonwealth by Wendell Berry. This is the most prophetic, most profound writing I have read this year, hands down. Berry exposes the potentially dehumanizing ideas implicit in capitalism, urbanism, scientific positivism, and integrates this into a communal morality, which he defines as “long-range practicality”. I’m still only half-way through this book, because each essay is incredibly and deeply thoughtful, incisively prophetic, and completely necessary for any deep thinker engaged with the contemporary world.
Let’s have a big round of applause for our winners. Thanks for coming to the 2019 Poleys. Stay tuned after the show for the season premiere of “Evening Calisthenics with Parker” to see if Warrior Pose is really as hard as it looks! See you next year.