This list of my favorite books of 2015 is not necessary books that were published this year; some were from previous years that I only this year got around to reading. In any case, I had a Goodreads challenge of reading 85 books in 2015 - and succeeding in that goal - and of those 85 books, these were my absolute favorites.
Some of these reviews are reposts from my previous "Feminist Books" entry.
In alphabetical order by author's last name:
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Me and Earl and the Dying Girl
by Jesse Andrews [YA]
My husband and I read this book and watched the movie this year; both were fantastic and the movie stayed very true to the book. I don't often laugh out loud when I'm reading, but this one totally had me laughing. It doesn't seem like a topic that would be funny - and the topic itself is not - but the voice is so authentic, refusing to shy away from teenage emotion and awkwardness, and the teenage boy narrater is often funny in an attempt to deal with the tragedy of a cancer-stricken friend.
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Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can't Stop Talking
by Susan Cain [Non-fiction]
This was a really interesting read, not least because I am incredibly introverted (as are most of my family, friends, and people I know and love). I especially appreciated Cain's acknowledgment that modern America is made for extroverts, and that being introverted can often be difficult and harrowing - in relationships, in business, in careers, in society - not because it reflects a deficiency in character but only because our society values extroversion more. Indeed, introverts have a lot to offer, and this book makes the case for why.
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My Education
by Susan Choi [Fiction]
Here's the review of this book I wrote for Goodreads:
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The Circle
by Dave Eggers [Dystopian/Satire]
This book was satire at its finest. If you think any part of our contemporary social-media-loving, surveillance-accepting, terms-and-conditions-ignoring, "like"-obsessed world is amusing, absurd, or potentially dangerous, this book is for you. It isn't hard to imagine Eggers's America, because we're practically already living it. Are there any downsides to a lack of privacy? Will social media go to far? Are people entitled to know everything?
What I thought was most interesting, actually, is that a "lack of privacy" is really nothing new - it's just compounded by the Internet, making even privileged people feel its effects. I feel like women, and people of color, and other minorities or disadvantaged groups throughout history often are refused privacy because people with privilege feel entitled to taking it. How many pregnant women have been asked by a stranger how far along she is, what the baby's gender is, if the stranger can touch her stomach? How many black people with natural hair have had their hair touched by strangers without even asking for permission, just because white people are amused by their "exoticness" and want to fetishize it? How many people with visible physical handicaps or birthmarks or skin conditions have been asked "what happened?" How many transgender individuals have been asked what genitals they have or don't have? How many gay people have been asked how they have sex, and what position they use, and "who wears the pants" in their relationship? How many women accusing a man of rape have been questioned about their own sexual history, and what clothes they were wearing, and how much they'd had to drink? How many women are asked if they have children or are planning to have children soon or how they balance families and careers?
Sure, some of those questions might fall into the category of "small talk" - but the fact is that for oppressed groups of people, "small talk" is often more intrusive than it is for privileged groups. Perhaps the better question is - how many white cisgendered heterosexual men have been asked such questions or similar ones? The answer is - not many, at least not until the Internet and social media became what it is. The Internet is "the Great Equalizer" because it gives everyone the same access to information and communication (assuming one has the Internet connection) regardless of location, race, ethnicity, gender, sexuality, and so many other factors. But with that, more and more people feel entitled to all of that information, from anyone they might connect with. When we're all equal (or more equal anyway - let's not pretend Internet bullying doesn't happen), we all start to demand transparency from everyone, and not just the underprivileged.
This book is sort of a case-study for what might happen if everyone (white cisgendered heterosexual men included) were treated as if their lives were available for monetizing, objectifying, and reclaiming by strangers and cooperations. Guess what happens? Some people put up with it and try to adapt; some make it work to their advantage as best as possible; and some fucking hate it - especially the white cisgendered heterosexual men unused to such treatment. (I'm thinking of one character in particular, who would rather commit suicide than be forced to adopt the social media platforms in this book.) A fascinating read, to be sure.
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Big Magic: Creative Living Beyond Fear
by Elizabeth Gilbert [Non-fiction/Advice]
There is so much I could say about this book. In fact, if I have the time some day I plan to write a longer post about this book specifically - so I won't get into all of the goodies it has now. Suffice it to say, if you ever find yourself struggling with following a passion, investing in a hobby, indulging your creativity, or taking on a big project that you're excited about but anxious about attempt, you'll find some good advice in this book.
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The Girl on the Train
by Paula Hawkins [Psychological Thriller]
The review I posted on Goodreads:
"The holes in your life are permanent. You have to grow around them, like tree roots around concrete; you mould yourself through the gaps."
"You can't step directly into a cold shower of water, it's too shocking, too brutal, but if you get there gradually, you hardly notice it; it's like boiling a frog in reverse."
Told from the point of view of three women - Rachel, the scorned ex-wife; Anna, the new wife; and Megan, the neighbor - "The Girl on the Train" raises familiar questions about the lives we live behind closed doors and the destructiveness of secrets. Rachel rides the train past her old house every day - the house where her husband now lives with his new wife and their child. She doesn't look at her old house; instead, she focuses all her attention on Megan, whom she imagines is named "Jess," and the seemingly loving relationship she has with the man Rachel silently names "Jason," because she wants what they have.
Of course, as readers we know that not all is what it seems. We see each of these women struggling with their lives and flailing in their relationships - some more than others. And then Megan goes missing, her face shown on every television set, her name in every newspaper. Rachel wants to figure out what happened, but she doesn't know who she can turn to, who she can trust. She's not even sure if she can trust herself. As readers, we are caught up in the same mystery, reading the different women's points of view for hints of the truth - the real truth - underneath their lies and secrets and doubts.
I don't often read "psychological thrillers" - or thrillers of any kind, really - so my endorsement might not mean much to true connoisseurs of the genre, but I present it here nonetheless. "The Girl on the Train" has everything you would expect from this type of book - intrigue, mystery, misdirection, characters that are simultaneously sympathetic and distasteful, and a fast-paced plot that keeps you turning the pages - and it does all of these things very well. I particularly liked the complex character of Rachel, a struggling depressive alcoholic who wants exactly what all of us want in life - to love and be loved in return, and to have a secure home and family.
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When We Wake & While We Run
by Karen Healey [YA, Dystopian]
These books have diversity, and the second book was even better than the first. I expected to relate most to Tegan (the white Australian female), but often found myself drawn to the staunch atheism, insightful mind, and deep empathy of Abdi (the African male). The first book is Tegan's POV; the second one is Abdi's. Watching Abdi's reaction to Tegan being appropriated for the mouthpiece of a rebel group was like getting to see The Hunger Game's Mockingjay installment from Peeta's POV - except that Katniss disagrees with how she is being used in The Hunger Games but lets them get away with it, and Tegan doesn't let anybody push her around. There is also a rape story line in the second book that was NOT used as a ploy to develop the female character, which was an interesting subversion of how it's typically utilized.
The general premise is a little out there (like any dystopian book), but the character's dialogue and reactions felt very authentic. I liked that they cared about religion and had existential discussions/arguments with each other, and weren't just stuck in love triangles and doing their makeup and other typical "teenage" fare. Kids are people too, and they're just as prone to existential crises as the rest of us.
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The Buried Giant
by Kazuo Ishiguro [Adult Fairy Tale]
My Goodreads review of this book:
I am frankly astonished that this doesn't have more 5-star ratings on here. This story captivated me. The plot was entertaining, the characters a pleasant band of familiar fairy tale stereotypes, and the premise thought-provoking. I finished this book at midnight - and I was still wide awake at 1:30 AM, internally debating profound questions.
- Can true love only exist long-term when couples learn to forget past quarrels? Or is a relationship without a remembered, shared past inherently dishonest and not "real" love at all?
- Are there times when memories are better forgotten?
- Is peace won by magical trickery and deceit unstable, undeserved, and intrinsically temporary? (Do the ends justify the means?)
- How do we rationalize hating an entire race of people even while acknowledging exceptions in those we've come to intimately know as friends, even while acknowledging that every race has blameless innocents?
- Is it possible to completely bridge the gap between those with different customs? Or do cultural differences and a history of antagonism prevent the possibility of harmony?
- Is vengeance ever an acceptable course of action, or is forgiveness always the better choice?
I was reminded at times of Harry Potter. (Just because something is in your head doesn't mean it's not real. It can be comforting to stay ignorant of the wrongs of the past or present, but near impossible to maintain this ignorance long-term and remain a good person. The world is not divided into good people and Death Eaters. Death is not something to be feared but something that welcomes us and reunites us with those we've already lost when it is our time to go.)
It also reminded me of The Hunger Games. (Particularly Katniss's decision to reinstate the Games with the children of the Capital, to make the Capital atone for their mistakes, to perpetuate the cycle.)
(And I don't compare The Buried Giant to these two series lightly; they are perhaps my favorite two book series of all time.)
This might just be the best thing I've yet read in 2015; it's certainly a book I want to own, so that I can read it again and again.
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The Disreputable History of Frankie Landau-Banks
by E. Lockhart [YA]
In this fun Young Adult novel, sixteen-year-old boarding school student Frankie is absolutely unwilling to act "appropriately" for her gender. She hates being excluded from her boyfriend's all-male secret society - especially when she knows she's smarter than any of them - and uses both her intellect/creativity and the boy's utter dismissal of her to her advantage to plan a series of pranks with socio-political commentary right under their noses.
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A Tale for the Time Being
by Ruth Ozeki [Historical Fiction/Contemporary/Philosophical]
This book is about strong women spanning generations: an elderly Buddhist Japanese nun, her Japanese-American granddaughter Nao, and a Japanese-Canadian novelist named Ruth (very meta) who finds Nao's diary washed up on the shore of her Vancouver island residence and believes it's an artifact carried across the Pacific by the 2004 tsunami. But what really makes it feminist is the struggles Nao goes through at her Japanese high school, where she is mercilessly bullied.
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Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe
by Benjamin Alire Saenz [YA]
From my Goodreads review:
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Station Eleven
by Emily St. John Mandel [Dystopian]
From my Goodreads review of this book:
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Golden Boy
by Abigail Tarttelin [YA]
From my Goodreads review:
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All My Puny Sorrows
by Miriam Toews [Fiction]
From my Goodreads review:
"She wanted to die and I wanted her to live and we were enemies who loved each other."
This book is about sisters. The older one, a well-known concert pianist with a loving husband, is trapped in a cycle of failed suicide attempts. The younger one, a struggling author with two children from two different divorces, doesn't understand how the sister with the seemingly-perfect, easy life could be so intent to end it. And so begins this important book - a book that doesn't shy away from difficult questions, a book that proves mental illness can't be cured from will alone, a book that proves depression doesn't discriminate between the beautiful and plain, the talented and mediocre, the well-loved and the abandoned.
The way it's written is almost as important as the subject matter. Like Etta and Otto and Russell and James (which is also from this year and also Canadian), the lack of quotation marks gives it a sort of lyrical, "stream of consciousness" feel and equalizes the dialogue and inner thoughts and action so that every part of the story is treated with the same weight and respect. Furthermore, for a book about a suicidal sister, there's a surprising amount of humor, of life in these pages. Life goes on, even around tragedies and heartbreak.
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Dietland
by Sarai Walker [Satire, Revenge Fantasy]
Plum Kettle has always believed her weight is an abomination - until she meets an underground community of women who live life on their own terms, and realizes she's been living the life others expect of her. Meanwhile, a dangerous guerrilla group called "Jennifer" is terrorizing a world that mistreats women, slicing this fast-paced and often funny satire with delicious moments of revenge fantasy.
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My Sunshine Away
by M.O. Walsh [Fiction]
From my Goodreads review:
I was concerned (both before starting this book, knowing what it was about, and while actually reading, worrying where it was going to go, worrying what we might find out about our narrator in the end) that this topic might be dealt with too insensitively or problematically. I was worried that a male author using a male narrator (a grown man, looking back on his years as a preteen/teen growing up in Louisiana) would not be able to discuss the rape of a teenage girl (the narrator's neighbor and childhood crush) without pissing me off. I am pleased to say that I needn't have worried.
The rape was NOT used to sexualize violent sex or to simply give the female character flaws or an emotion-wrought backstory. She was a well-fleshed-out character despite (not because of) her rape; she was a person in the present, not just a woman with a trauma in her past. Furthermore, it was clear that the greatest suspects in the crime (for most of the book addresses the neighborhood trying to figure out who her rapist was, even as the girl herself tried to put it all behind her) were men who had forgotten how to be people in their desperation to be men, to fulfill the gender role they had been assigned, to use their privilege and power to manipulate and frighten - and maybe even attack - those with less privilege and power. That is to say, by showing just how many men living on their street could have feasibly committed the crime, the narrator (and author) demonstrates how much rape is perpetuated by our culture as a whole, how we are all - to different degrees, but all of us nonetheless - partly responsible, because this is a culture we have all created. There are those of us who see things or hear things but don't report what we've seen or heard; those of who don't even realize there was anything bad in what we'd seen or heard, because it's something that so many people do or say; those of us who believe our need to grieve the loss of innocence is more poignant than the girl's need to deal with the trauma in her own way, even if that means pretending that it never happened; those of us who gossip about rape victims, or blame them. Men are mostly the ones at fault here - in this book, and in the real world at large - partly just because they are the ones with the power, with the privilege, and so whatever they do, right or wrong, has greater consequence than what women do. But women aren't blameless either; there is woman-on-women hate and slut-shaming, and we perpetuate our own oppression. We see this in the book too, most notably when the rape survivor loses her popularity when the school finds out the truth.
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Looking forward to finding more great books to read in 2016! :) Bring on the New Year!
Some of these reviews are reposts from my previous "Feminist Books" entry.
In alphabetical order by author's last name:
-
Me and Earl and the Dying Girl
by Jesse Andrews [YA]
My husband and I read this book and watched the movie this year; both were fantastic and the movie stayed very true to the book. I don't often laugh out loud when I'm reading, but this one totally had me laughing. It doesn't seem like a topic that would be funny - and the topic itself is not - but the voice is so authentic, refusing to shy away from teenage emotion and awkwardness, and the teenage boy narrater is often funny in an attempt to deal with the tragedy of a cancer-stricken friend.
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Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can't Stop Talking
by Susan Cain [Non-fiction]
This was a really interesting read, not least because I am incredibly introverted (as are most of my family, friends, and people I know and love). I especially appreciated Cain's acknowledgment that modern America is made for extroverts, and that being introverted can often be difficult and harrowing - in relationships, in business, in careers, in society - not because it reflects a deficiency in character but only because our society values extroversion more. Indeed, introverts have a lot to offer, and this book makes the case for why.
-
My Education
by Susan Choi [Fiction]
Here's the review of this book I wrote for Goodreads:
| I loved this book. I didn't always love it when I was in the thick of it, and it wasn't an particularly fast or easy read, but both the language and the story itself have stayed with me long since returning it to the library - indeed, my ability to identify and sympathize with the protagonist, Regina, seems only to increase with added distance. She represents all young intellectuals, all self-assured college students, all those who have felt passionate about something or someone, all those who've fallen in love. The basic plot of the novel is a common one - Regina has fallen for a married professor, and soon the two embark on a lustful, life-changing affair. What's new is (view spoiler) Now, as for the writing itself - My first clue that I might simultaneously love and ridicule the prose came upon reading this beautiful and accurate blurb on the back cover: "She (Choi) has written lines that could be framed and displayed at a sentence festival." As expected, the language often walked a fine line between lovely linguistic calisthenics and ostentatious rhetoric. I especially laughed at the odd, formal descriptions of graphic sex scenes - but then when I read aloud some choice paragraphs to my husband to share its absurdity, I found myself defending her pretentious prose. "It makes sense, though," I said, suddenly believing every word, "because of who the characters are. They're professors and English majors." Regina is twenty-one, barely out of adolescence, yet desperate to be seen as older and wiser; of course she's going to adopt an attitude of self-righteousness, of course she's going to choose flowery narration in a misguided attempt to project worldliness. As soon as I interpreted the language through that lens - that it was the language of the character(s), not necessarily Choi herself, I loved it all. So what if there were days when I didn't read a word because I wasn't in the right mind set, wasn't awake enough or engaged enough to adequately slog through the page-long paragraphs? It was brilliant. Let it take readers longer to read. I didn't mind. |
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The Circle
by Dave Eggers [Dystopian/Satire]
This book was satire at its finest. If you think any part of our contemporary social-media-loving, surveillance-accepting, terms-and-conditions-ignoring, "like"-obsessed world is amusing, absurd, or potentially dangerous, this book is for you. It isn't hard to imagine Eggers's America, because we're practically already living it. Are there any downsides to a lack of privacy? Will social media go to far? Are people entitled to know everything?
What I thought was most interesting, actually, is that a "lack of privacy" is really nothing new - it's just compounded by the Internet, making even privileged people feel its effects. I feel like women, and people of color, and other minorities or disadvantaged groups throughout history often are refused privacy because people with privilege feel entitled to taking it. How many pregnant women have been asked by a stranger how far along she is, what the baby's gender is, if the stranger can touch her stomach? How many black people with natural hair have had their hair touched by strangers without even asking for permission, just because white people are amused by their "exoticness" and want to fetishize it? How many people with visible physical handicaps or birthmarks or skin conditions have been asked "what happened?" How many transgender individuals have been asked what genitals they have or don't have? How many gay people have been asked how they have sex, and what position they use, and "who wears the pants" in their relationship? How many women accusing a man of rape have been questioned about their own sexual history, and what clothes they were wearing, and how much they'd had to drink? How many women are asked if they have children or are planning to have children soon or how they balance families and careers?
Sure, some of those questions might fall into the category of "small talk" - but the fact is that for oppressed groups of people, "small talk" is often more intrusive than it is for privileged groups. Perhaps the better question is - how many white cisgendered heterosexual men have been asked such questions or similar ones? The answer is - not many, at least not until the Internet and social media became what it is. The Internet is "the Great Equalizer" because it gives everyone the same access to information and communication (assuming one has the Internet connection) regardless of location, race, ethnicity, gender, sexuality, and so many other factors. But with that, more and more people feel entitled to all of that information, from anyone they might connect with. When we're all equal (or more equal anyway - let's not pretend Internet bullying doesn't happen), we all start to demand transparency from everyone, and not just the underprivileged.
This book is sort of a case-study for what might happen if everyone (white cisgendered heterosexual men included) were treated as if their lives were available for monetizing, objectifying, and reclaiming by strangers and cooperations. Guess what happens? Some people put up with it and try to adapt; some make it work to their advantage as best as possible; and some fucking hate it - especially the white cisgendered heterosexual men unused to such treatment. (I'm thinking of one character in particular, who would rather commit suicide than be forced to adopt the social media platforms in this book.) A fascinating read, to be sure.
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Big Magic: Creative Living Beyond Fear
by Elizabeth Gilbert [Non-fiction/Advice]
There is so much I could say about this book. In fact, if I have the time some day I plan to write a longer post about this book specifically - so I won't get into all of the goodies it has now. Suffice it to say, if you ever find yourself struggling with following a passion, investing in a hobby, indulging your creativity, or taking on a big project that you're excited about but anxious about attempt, you'll find some good advice in this book.
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The Girl on the Train
by Paula Hawkins [Psychological Thriller]
The review I posted on Goodreads:
"The holes in your life are permanent. You have to grow around them, like tree roots around concrete; you mould yourself through the gaps."
"You can't step directly into a cold shower of water, it's too shocking, too brutal, but if you get there gradually, you hardly notice it; it's like boiling a frog in reverse."
Told from the point of view of three women - Rachel, the scorned ex-wife; Anna, the new wife; and Megan, the neighbor - "The Girl on the Train" raises familiar questions about the lives we live behind closed doors and the destructiveness of secrets. Rachel rides the train past her old house every day - the house where her husband now lives with his new wife and their child. She doesn't look at her old house; instead, she focuses all her attention on Megan, whom she imagines is named "Jess," and the seemingly loving relationship she has with the man Rachel silently names "Jason," because she wants what they have.
Of course, as readers we know that not all is what it seems. We see each of these women struggling with their lives and flailing in their relationships - some more than others. And then Megan goes missing, her face shown on every television set, her name in every newspaper. Rachel wants to figure out what happened, but she doesn't know who she can turn to, who she can trust. She's not even sure if she can trust herself. As readers, we are caught up in the same mystery, reading the different women's points of view for hints of the truth - the real truth - underneath their lies and secrets and doubts.
I don't often read "psychological thrillers" - or thrillers of any kind, really - so my endorsement might not mean much to true connoisseurs of the genre, but I present it here nonetheless. "The Girl on the Train" has everything you would expect from this type of book - intrigue, mystery, misdirection, characters that are simultaneously sympathetic and distasteful, and a fast-paced plot that keeps you turning the pages - and it does all of these things very well. I particularly liked the complex character of Rachel, a struggling depressive alcoholic who wants exactly what all of us want in life - to love and be loved in return, and to have a secure home and family.
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When We Wake & While We Run
by Karen Healey [YA, Dystopian]
These books have diversity, and the second book was even better than the first. I expected to relate most to Tegan (the white Australian female), but often found myself drawn to the staunch atheism, insightful mind, and deep empathy of Abdi (the African male). The first book is Tegan's POV; the second one is Abdi's. Watching Abdi's reaction to Tegan being appropriated for the mouthpiece of a rebel group was like getting to see The Hunger Game's Mockingjay installment from Peeta's POV - except that Katniss disagrees with how she is being used in The Hunger Games but lets them get away with it, and Tegan doesn't let anybody push her around. There is also a rape story line in the second book that was NOT used as a ploy to develop the female character, which was an interesting subversion of how it's typically utilized.
The general premise is a little out there (like any dystopian book), but the character's dialogue and reactions felt very authentic. I liked that they cared about religion and had existential discussions/arguments with each other, and weren't just stuck in love triangles and doing their makeup and other typical "teenage" fare. Kids are people too, and they're just as prone to existential crises as the rest of us.
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The Buried Giant
by Kazuo Ishiguro [Adult Fairy Tale]
My Goodreads review of this book:
I am frankly astonished that this doesn't have more 5-star ratings on here. This story captivated me. The plot was entertaining, the characters a pleasant band of familiar fairy tale stereotypes, and the premise thought-provoking. I finished this book at midnight - and I was still wide awake at 1:30 AM, internally debating profound questions.
- Can true love only exist long-term when couples learn to forget past quarrels? Or is a relationship without a remembered, shared past inherently dishonest and not "real" love at all?
- Are there times when memories are better forgotten?
- Is peace won by magical trickery and deceit unstable, undeserved, and intrinsically temporary? (Do the ends justify the means?)
- How do we rationalize hating an entire race of people even while acknowledging exceptions in those we've come to intimately know as friends, even while acknowledging that every race has blameless innocents?
- Is it possible to completely bridge the gap between those with different customs? Or do cultural differences and a history of antagonism prevent the possibility of harmony?
- Is vengeance ever an acceptable course of action, or is forgiveness always the better choice?
I was reminded at times of Harry Potter. (Just because something is in your head doesn't mean it's not real. It can be comforting to stay ignorant of the wrongs of the past or present, but near impossible to maintain this ignorance long-term and remain a good person. The world is not divided into good people and Death Eaters. Death is not something to be feared but something that welcomes us and reunites us with those we've already lost when it is our time to go.)
It also reminded me of The Hunger Games. (Particularly Katniss's decision to reinstate the Games with the children of the Capital, to make the Capital atone for their mistakes, to perpetuate the cycle.)
(And I don't compare The Buried Giant to these two series lightly; they are perhaps my favorite two book series of all time.)
This might just be the best thing I've yet read in 2015; it's certainly a book I want to own, so that I can read it again and again.
-
The Disreputable History of Frankie Landau-Banks
by E. Lockhart [YA]
In this fun Young Adult novel, sixteen-year-old boarding school student Frankie is absolutely unwilling to act "appropriately" for her gender. She hates being excluded from her boyfriend's all-male secret society - especially when she knows she's smarter than any of them - and uses both her intellect/creativity and the boy's utter dismissal of her to her advantage to plan a series of pranks with socio-political commentary right under their noses.
-
A Tale for the Time Being
by Ruth Ozeki [Historical Fiction/Contemporary/Philosophical]
This book is about strong women spanning generations: an elderly Buddhist Japanese nun, her Japanese-American granddaughter Nao, and a Japanese-Canadian novelist named Ruth (very meta) who finds Nao's diary washed up on the shore of her Vancouver island residence and believes it's an artifact carried across the Pacific by the 2004 tsunami. But what really makes it feminist is the struggles Nao goes through at her Japanese high school, where she is mercilessly bullied.
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Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe
by Benjamin Alire Saenz [YA]
From my Goodreads review:
What this book does well: - Demonstrates healthy family dynamics and stresses the importance of familial physical affection. (I still can't get over how Dante's father actually kissed his son's cheek on the regular. We need more dads like that in the world.) - Demonstrates how family and friends can help you figure out who you are/who you want to be. I feel like so many YA books, especially those that are LGBT, treat LGBT teens like they're in some kind of vacuum, where they have to figure out who they are (and who they are attracted to) and come to terms with it all on their own, or with their closest friend/significant other and that's it. This book, on the other hand, shows how family relationships can play an important and POSITIVE role in helping adolescents figure out who they are. It can be so hard to understand ourselves from the inside; getting outside perspectives from a strong support system is so crucial - both for adolescents AND adults. - Demonstrates how the real significance of discovering one's sexuality is not the "coming out" to OTHER PEOPLE but the "coming out" to YOURSELF. It's about being true to yourself and comfortable with yourself. If you have that, it doesn't matter if you're an outcast at school or in your family or wherever (well, it does matter, of course it matters, but it's easier, I think, to deal with if you know that this stage of your life is temporary and you'll have further chances in life to make meaningful connections and friendships with those who accept you). What I'm trying to say is that it's called SELF-discovery. And I think a lot of books either focus on that too much (and leave off the important relationships that the kid DOES have, like relationships with family and friends, as discussed above), or not focus on that ENOUGH, and make the story more about how the kid fits into his world, instead of how his world fits in with HIM. This book strikes the perfect balance between those two extremes, succeeding where many stories fall short. - Demonstrates how to be the best possible parent Seriously, I think every adult should read this book and strive to act like Aristotle's parents and Dante's parents. Dante's parents seem to be the "better" set - but perhaps only because Aristotle is our narrator, and so he can't see all of what goes on in Dante's home when he's not around. And any faults that Aristotle's parents have are mitigated by the fact that when they become aware of these faults, they do their darndest to try to CHANGE and grow as people. So many adults/parents forget to be open-minded, forget that all relationships are two-way streets, including those with their children. Of course parents influence children, actively molding them, trying to make them good people, good human beings. But kids do that, too, or try to, and parents should listen to their kids, should accept that their kid might have some useful opinions and advice of their own that could help the PARENT be a better person. - And it does all this with a genuine, heartfelt voice. I realize that a lot of the reasons that I loved this book are from an adult's perspective - and I guess that means I'm actually an adult now, if it's the parents I am most influenced by and enamored with and relate to, rather than the kids - but there is so much good that can be said about this book from a teenager's point of view, as well, I am sure. This book was recommended to me by a friend who is a high school teacher, and she knows teenagers who have read and loved this book just as much as I do (and she does). It's all about the voice. Aristotle's voice is, as I said, completely genuine. My heart broke for him when he was feeling down; my heart leapt for him when he was happy. He read like a genuine teenager struggling with life and love and self-discovery. |
Station Eleven
by Emily St. John Mandel [Dystopian]
From my Goodreads review of this book:
| There is a lot that could be said about this book. In this review, I will stick to how it made me feel, because that's what has stayed with me most in the week or so since I finished it. "Survival is insufficient." For a book about the end of the world, there's a lot of hope to be found in these pages. It's apparent right from the book flap description - in a world whose population is drastically reduced by pandemic and roving bands of murderers and looters, there are still those who devote their lives to art, to theatre, to music, to entertainment, and to the preservation of the best accomplishments of the human mind. It's a romantic notion not unlike that presented by Robin Williams in "Dead Poet's Society": "We don't read and write poetry because it's cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for." Because this is the crux of the book, it reads differently than most post-apocalyptic tales. I found that even in moments of true danger - moments of separation from the company of others, moments of attack, moments of near-death - I never felt afraid or upset or lost, for myself or for the characters I'd grown to know. I felt reassured. Not that everything would "work out" for our protagonist, or that everyone whose names we'd learned might survive, but that it wouldn't really matter one way or the other. Humanity would continue. Humanity would persevere. Shakespeare would be read or recited or heard; music would be played and appreciated. Life would go on. "Hell is the absence of the people you long for." In a world like the one portrayed in this book, everyone has lost someone. Everyone has been displaced from their families or their homes (or both) and has to make a new life. Some succeed where others do not, but an overwhelming majority of them at least try. Humanity is resilient. It does not give up easily. In part, this book is about the way humans fail each other; the way humans fall and break and die. But more than that, it's about the way humans survive and thrive, the way humans overcome adversity, the way we love and care for each other, the way we look fondly back on our past, and the way we hope, always hope, even in the bleakest circumstances, for a better future. |
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Golden Boy
by Abigail Tarttelin [YA]
From my Goodreads review:
Max is a fifteen (soon to be sixteen) year old intersex kid growing up in an English suburb. He has a penis and a vagina. He identifies as male. His parents (lawyers both, and a father who's considering running for political office) don't like to talk to him about his intersexuality. **Trigger Warning: This book has a very graphic, heartbreaking rape scene. (This is not a spoiler. It happens in the first twenty pages or so.) There is a lot of fallout from this sexual assault. Because Max doesn't know much about his body. Because he has so little experience with sex. Because he doesn't know what to think about it, and himself, in the aftermath. He has to make a lot of important, adult decisions (not least of which is: Do I report my rapist to the police even though he's a family friend?) that no kid (and hell, no adults) should have to make. This book is told from many different perspectives. Max was my favorite voice. Daniel, his ten-year-old brother, was another great one. There's also a doctor (whose sections allow for important expositions), a girl Max likes, Max's mother, and (only toward the end of the book,) Max's father. Seeing what his parents are thinking is crucial to our full understanding of Max, but his mother's voice also creates some of the most aggravating chapters in the book. Do I understand why she does what she does? Yes. Does that mean I can forgive her? Well... Maybe not. I've been reading a lot of GREAT books recently, but this one stands out even among these great books as my current 2015 frontrunner. Here's why: First of all, I think the subject matter is Very Important. (Think Middlesex but more personal and less "sweeping family epic." Instead of decades upon decades of story to mine, there's just a single school year of Max's life.) There should be more books that raise these kinds of questions about identity and gender and trauma and love and society. Secondly, it made me sob. It reminded me of The Language of Flowers in this regard; both books have some beautiful, real moments about families and the way they communicate with each other and love each other that broke me (in the best way). There's a quote on the book jacket that describes this as a "read in one sitting" book. This is a lie. If you are anything like me, it is actually a book that you pick up and read in several smaller spurts. I did finish it in 24 hours. But I took breaks. I slept. I ate. I stepped away from it for an hour or two or three. I couldn't stay away long - the story haunted me until I picked the book up again - but I did need those breaks as I read, because it was too much to read straight through without taking the time to process, to distance myself, to breathe, and yes, to cry. I don't care who you are and what you normally like to read - if you're looking for your next book, pick this one. It's important. |
All My Puny Sorrows
by Miriam Toews [Fiction]
From my Goodreads review:
"She wanted to die and I wanted her to live and we were enemies who loved each other."
This book is about sisters. The older one, a well-known concert pianist with a loving husband, is trapped in a cycle of failed suicide attempts. The younger one, a struggling author with two children from two different divorces, doesn't understand how the sister with the seemingly-perfect, easy life could be so intent to end it. And so begins this important book - a book that doesn't shy away from difficult questions, a book that proves mental illness can't be cured from will alone, a book that proves depression doesn't discriminate between the beautiful and plain, the talented and mediocre, the well-loved and the abandoned.
The way it's written is almost as important as the subject matter. Like Etta and Otto and Russell and James (which is also from this year and also Canadian), the lack of quotation marks gives it a sort of lyrical, "stream of consciousness" feel and equalizes the dialogue and inner thoughts and action so that every part of the story is treated with the same weight and respect. Furthermore, for a book about a suicidal sister, there's a surprising amount of humor, of life in these pages. Life goes on, even around tragedies and heartbreak.
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Dietland
by Sarai Walker [Satire, Revenge Fantasy]
Plum Kettle has always believed her weight is an abomination - until she meets an underground community of women who live life on their own terms, and realizes she's been living the life others expect of her. Meanwhile, a dangerous guerrilla group called "Jennifer" is terrorizing a world that mistreats women, slicing this fast-paced and often funny satire with delicious moments of revenge fantasy.
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My Sunshine Away
by M.O. Walsh [Fiction]
From my Goodreads review:
I was concerned (both before starting this book, knowing what it was about, and while actually reading, worrying where it was going to go, worrying what we might find out about our narrator in the end) that this topic might be dealt with too insensitively or problematically. I was worried that a male author using a male narrator (a grown man, looking back on his years as a preteen/teen growing up in Louisiana) would not be able to discuss the rape of a teenage girl (the narrator's neighbor and childhood crush) without pissing me off. I am pleased to say that I needn't have worried.
The rape was NOT used to sexualize violent sex or to simply give the female character flaws or an emotion-wrought backstory. She was a well-fleshed-out character despite (not because of) her rape; she was a person in the present, not just a woman with a trauma in her past. Furthermore, it was clear that the greatest suspects in the crime (for most of the book addresses the neighborhood trying to figure out who her rapist was, even as the girl herself tried to put it all behind her) were men who had forgotten how to be people in their desperation to be men, to fulfill the gender role they had been assigned, to use their privilege and power to manipulate and frighten - and maybe even attack - those with less privilege and power. That is to say, by showing just how many men living on their street could have feasibly committed the crime, the narrator (and author) demonstrates how much rape is perpetuated by our culture as a whole, how we are all - to different degrees, but all of us nonetheless - partly responsible, because this is a culture we have all created. There are those of us who see things or hear things but don't report what we've seen or heard; those of who don't even realize there was anything bad in what we'd seen or heard, because it's something that so many people do or say; those of us who believe our need to grieve the loss of innocence is more poignant than the girl's need to deal with the trauma in her own way, even if that means pretending that it never happened; those of us who gossip about rape victims, or blame them. Men are mostly the ones at fault here - in this book, and in the real world at large - partly just because they are the ones with the power, with the privilege, and so whatever they do, right or wrong, has greater consequence than what women do. But women aren't blameless either; there is woman-on-women hate and slut-shaming, and we perpetuate our own oppression. We see this in the book too, most notably when the rape survivor loses her popularity when the school finds out the truth.
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Looking forward to finding more great books to read in 2016! :) Bring on the New Year!
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