A few months ago, I was trying to remember the title of a book I’d read while researching my memoir. I asked at the library circulation desk if they could look up a record of the books I’d checked out recently, only to learn that as soon as a book is returned to their system, it disappears from the patron’s record. This is certainly nice if you have a history of reading The Anarchist Cookbook, or the Communist Manifesto, and don’t want to encourage a visit from the local FBI if there’s been a rash of mysterious, politically-motivated vandalisms in your neighborhood. However, if you’re simply a person who reads too much and has no memory, the fact that the library isn’t helping out by keeping A List of Books You’ve Read, well then, when it comes time to find that book on death and dying that has an incongruous subtitle involving a mythical sea creature, you’re kind of lost. “But I can remember the cover, just not the author or the publisher or the title.” Precisely.
I decided to start January with the intention of keeping a list of all the books I’ve read, so as to avoid these amnesiac pitfalls in the future. I’m not one to count fingernail parings or bowel movements the way some infamous diarists might be wont, but it has been interesting to watch the record accumulate, to see what I started and didn’t finish, what I liked and didn’t, what took me to new places and what hidden gems I finally picked up and read to completion. There’s always a list of “books to be read” in my mind, on my nightstand, in my library queue, and, well, all over the house. But the list of Books Read is pithy and interesting. So, in the spirit of Nick Hornby’s The Polysyllabic Spree (and with apologies in advance to the authors) I give you Books Read In January:
Sam Lipsyte – The Ask – if you are a fan of self-hating narrators, this one’s for you. A friend of mine who lives in NYC loved this book, which makes me wonder if it’s essentially a New York book? I will say that there is a set piece towards the end about a reality TV show involving death row inmates, chefs and last suppers that would be worthy to teach to a writing class. Even so, if we’re talking New York books, Joshua Ferris’ The Unnamed (best book I read in 2010) is where I put my money.
Christie Hodgen – Elegies for the Brokenhearted. Really lovely structure and style, and a voice consistent with her previous book, Hello, I Must Be Going. A fine example of a very contemporary voice and subject with a very old-fashioned (and sophisticated) way of telling a story.
Kevin Canty – Everything. I found this book to be strange, troubling, sad–all the things I love in good writing. If you haven’t read Canty, you should. Fantastic use of empty spaces.
Ann Beattie – Walks With Men. I have read almost everything Ann Beattie has written, including, now, this very slim and fairly slight novel(la). If you like Beattie, you’ll find the familiar bohemian New York, a little spruced up for the 80′s with designer labels and fancy restaurants. What was missing for me here was the sense of dread I have come to expect in a Beattie novel. Eventually, always, something really awful happens to someone you’ve come to love. Not so here. I guess that makes for a happy ending?
Patti Smith – Just Kids. I’m going to reserve judgment. I haven’t quite finished, and I’m not quite in love. I know: blasphemy.
Doug Dorst – The Surf Guru and Other Stories. Great stories. Weird, wild, mad. Sort of futuristic in a way, but also very much grounded in our contemporary times.
Kris Carr – Crazy Sexy Diet. Dean Ornish’s “Reverse and Prevent Heart Disease” with a few extra tips and a lot of fancy photos. This would make the perfect book for someone you know who wants and needs to eat a more balanced, healthier diet, and could benefit from a highly-motivational approach. I read this to reinforce my belief that diet is everything when it comes to disease.
Deborah Eisenberg – Under the 82nd Airborne. Another story collection, equally as weird and disturbing at Dorst’s, but very different. Disaffected New Yorkers, the world falling apart around them. Kind of like Didion if Didion chose to meander. I read Eisenberg a lot in the New Yorker many years ago, and in discovering this collection had forgotten how strange and unsettling her characters were, how complicated her style. Great inspiration if you’re working on stories–makes you want to write better ones.
Michelle Latiolais – Widow. This is a gem. A collection of seventeen very short pieces (essays? involutions? stories?) told with intricacy, intelligence, style and grace. Latiolais is very smart, and very funny, and if I explain that this is also the book that emerged from the grief over her husband’s untimely death, then I will also be telling you that she is saying something very true and necessary about love, grief and what it means to be alive.
Because I loved Widow the most of all these books, I am giving away a copy to share the pleasure of its words. Leave a comment about the books you’ve read so far, what you’ve liked (and not) and in a week or so I will have The Girl pick a winner at random.
On to February!