Randy's reads in 2024

Welcome. Here you will find a mix of literary fiction, a bit of non-fiction, and a few surprises. I’ve been part of the 75 Books Challenge for thirteen years.

I live in Waterloo, Ontario, Canada.

Books read in 2024

January
1. The Mysteries by Bill Watterson and John Kascht
2. Retirement Income for Life: Getting More Without Saving More by Frederick Vettese
3. A Terribly Serious Adventure: philosophy and war at Oxford, 1900-1960 by Nikhil Krishnan
4. The Whole Animal: stories by Corinna Chong
5. My Trade is Mystery: seven meditations from a life in writing by Carl Phillips
6. The English Understand Wool by Helen DeWitt
7. What About the Baby?: Some Thoughts on the Art of Fiction by Alice McDermott
8. The Book of Goose: a novel by Yiyun Li

March
9. Days at the Morisaki Bookshop by Satoshi Yagisawa
10. Life Ceremony: stories by Sayaka Murata
11. Some Trick: thirteen stories by Helen DeWitt
12. The Vulnerables: a novel by Sigrid Nunez
13. The Last Samurai Reread by Lee Konstantinou

April
14. I Remember by Joe Brainard

May
15. Poverty Creek Journal: On Life and Running by Thomas Gardner
16. Kingdom of Characters: A Tale of Language, Obsession, and Genius in Modern China by Jing Tsu

June
17. Clara Reads Proust by Stéphane Carlier
18. You Are Here: a novel by David Nicholls

July
19. Erasure by Percival Everett
20. The Last Song of Penelope by Claire North

August
21. Parade: a novel by Rachel Cusk
22. really good, actually by Monica Heisey
23. Honeybees and Distant Thunder by Riku Onda
24. Villa Triste by Patrick Modiano

September
25. Tell Me Everything: a novel by Elizabeth Strout

October
26. Golden Age by Wan Xiaobo
27. Tom Lake: a novel by Ann Patchett

November
28. The Three-Body Problem by Cixin Liu
29. Kairos by Jenny Erpenbeck

December
30. People We Meet On Vacation by Emily Henry
31. Your Guide to Not Getting Murdered in a Quaint English Village by Maureen Johnson

My top five reads of 2023:

The Last Samurai by Helen DeWitt
Sibylla, herself a rather dauntingly intelligent person, gives birth to Ludo, a boy capable of learning Ancient Greek at 4 (but who isn’t!) and, latterly, many other languages including Japanese. What he yearns for, however, is a father and with gritty focus he sets out on a quest to find one.

The Idiot: a novel by Elif Batuman
Selin is in her first year at Harvard. She’s frighteningly intelligent, but also naive, open to possibility, but at risk of being hurt. She doesn’t always make great choices. But she survives one scrape and then another. Her enthusiasm for life is infectious. If you don’t tire.

West: a novel by Carys Davies
Cy Bellman has been captured by an idea. An idea of giant beasts which just might exist beyond the horizon. The only way to find out is to head west, leaving behind his 10-year-old daughter, Bess. Will he keep his promise to return?

Telephone: a novel by Percival Everett
Zach Wells is nearly as rocky as the fossils he investigates. Only his 12-year-old daughter, Sarah, softens his heart. Her sudden aggressive decline due to Batten disease sends him into a tailspin from which he might not recover.

The Sleeping Car Porter by Suzette Mayr
Not everything that you see on a sleeping car of the fastest intercontinental train in 1929 ought to be seen. And after 48 hours with no sleep, a fair bit of what you see may not even be real. Baxter does his best to see what he ought, and to act in the best traditions of sleeping car porters.

1. The Mysteries by Bill Watterson and John Kascht

What are the mysteries? No one knows but the everyone fears them. So when the king sends out his knights in search of them, everyone is a bit let down when a captured mystery turns out to be so ordinary. And each further mystery revealed lessens the air of mystery further. And yet in the grand scheme of things, in the universe as a whole, over eons of time, the mysteries persisted and lived happily.

What does it all mean? I can’t say that I know. It’s as much a mystery as the curious technique that Watterson and Kascht employed to create their haunting images. Part etching, part photo-realism, part grotesquerie. The images hold one’s attention. And perhaps that’s enough.

Gently recommended.

If you can spare 15 minutes, I highly recommend this video in which Watterson and Kascht describe their method of collaboration. https://youtu.be/HHND7L1wUl0?si=hQJCaqFohxZk3Kvg

Welcome back, Randy! Your first sounds pretty interesting!

Happy reading in 2024, Randy!

2. Retirement Income for Life: Getting More Without Saving More by Frederick Vettese

If you are at or near retirement age, then you will undoubtedly find this book helpful. It is aimed at a Canadian audience. It begins with a straightforward scenario of a couple at retirement age with a set of initial conditions, such as the amount they have in RRSPs, TFSAs, non-tax-sheltered investments, etc. Then it explores how much they can draw down these sources of retirement income and in what mix, including later sources of income such as CPP and OAS, in order to ensure that they continue to have funds throughout their retirement. Frighteningly, there are lots of ways they could end up falling short in their later life. Vettese then recommends enhancements that they could undertake to ensure that doesn’t happen.

I found it a clear-eyed view of retirement. The enhancements he recommends are sensible. But more important, I found my current anxiety around retirement somewhat eased.

Gently recommended. (Or just win the lottery; that works too!)

3. A Terribly Serious Adventure: philosophy and war at Oxford, 1900-1960 by Nikhil Krishnan

Between 1900 and 1960, academic philosophy underwent a significant transformation in the United Kingdom. This was a time when mathematical logic gained prominence. Sensible language itself was analyzed into its formal logical structure. The very possibility of truth-claims was given an appropriate logical basis. And then most of that was set aside, except for the careful attention placed on language and language games. So much, so Cambridge. What on earth was going on at Oxford while the centre of British philosophy had so clearly shifted to the fens? The answer, as laid out here by Nikhil Krishnan, is that a fair bit was happening, even if much of it was catching up to those people at the other place.

Oxford, like Cambridge, had to first throw off the yoke of 19th century British idealism. It probably did take something like logical positivism, as represented by A.J. Ayer’s youthful book, to sweep out the attic. Fortunately Ayer’s aggressive verification principle yielded the ground eventually to more subtle investigations of the language, both ordinary and philosophical, that held us all in its sway. First Gilbert Ryle reformed the philosophical treatment of mind and action, and then J.L. Austin showed how much could be learned simply by attending to what we actually do with words. Neither were exactly aping their Cambridge cousins. This was new and exciting stuff. Later, despite Ayer’s dismissal of ethical claims as nonsense or mere partisanship, a collection of fine women philosophers (Foot, Anscombe, Midgley, Murdoch) found that there was indeed a great deal that could be said about ethical claims. And that, perhaps more than anything else, gave Oxford the edge in the late running.

Krishnan tells his tale with enthusiasm and verve. He doesn’t gloss over the challenges of the philosophical positions being explored. And, for the most part, I think he presents them fairly. Of course there is a natural tendency in such an account to slip teleology into one’s description. Academic philosophy, no matter which 60 year period one examines, might just be a bit more non-linear. And failing teleology there is always the salacious anecdote. Not, I think, very illuminating about the philosophical ideas in play. But I suppose a bit of spice makes the meal more appealing.

Is there anything distinctive about philosophy at Oxford in those years? Yes and no. As ever, individuals such as Ryle or Austin or Anscombe have a huge influence on what counts as philosophy, at least locally. And in Ryle’s case, since he was instrumental in introducing the B.Phil. degree to Oxford, that influence went far beyond his philosophical ideas. Krishnan might wish there to be something else at play, such as the tutorial system of pedagogy, but that is not unique to philosophy at Oxford, nor to Oxford (in Cambridge a tutorial is called a session). Rather what holds this group of philosophers together is that they, more or less, were focussed on a small set of issues and that they, more or less, thought the only people worth responding to were other Oxford philosophers. Twas ever thus.

Gently recommended for those with a taste for such things.

4. The Whole Animal: stories by Corinna Chong

The thirteen stories collected here are never less than solid. I’m not sure any completely leapt out for me, but moments here and there are certainly memorable. There is a tentativeness perhaps, which may be deliberate, that makes them seem as though they aren’t saying all that they could. But that might be just a case of the reader looking for something specific rather than letting the stories speak for themselves. Indeed, now as I reread the list of story titles, I find that each story can be recalled vividly. Which must surely indicate that they have had a stronger impact on me than I suspected.

I will pick out “Thieves,” “Fixer,” and “Kids in Kindergarten” as perhaps my favourites, but I would probably pick three others tomorrow. They were all worthy of being picked as someone’s favourite. I look forward to reading what Corinna Chong writes next.

Recommended.

5. My Trade is Mystery: seven meditations from a life in writing by Carl Phillips

These brief essays canvas a range of topic surrounding the life of a writer. Carl Phillips is a poet, so the focus is his personal relationship with the writing of poetry. But the themes apply more widely, indeed very likely beyond the realm of writing altogether. And in any case, Phillips’ writing is a pleasure to read from any perspective, a form of belles-lettres I suppose.

I’m not sure that the essays have much practical guidance for the young writer, other than perhaps the chapters on stamina and practice, for surely it will take stamina and a lot of practice to embark upon a life in writing. But it is delightful to follow Phillips’ own exploration of his personal relationship with writing. And perhaps that is enough.

Gently recommended.

6. The English Understand Wool by Helen DeWitt

Marguerite’s maman is a woman of high standards. She goes to Scotland to purchase a bolt of fine tweed. But she takes that tweed to London to have it made into clothes. Linen is purchased in Ireland but is cut for clothes in Paris. There are other strictures to her routine and Marguerite has taken all of them on board. So the sudden disappearance of Marguerite’s “parents” is less traumatic than might be expected. Even that these characters had made off with $100 million dollars of Marguerite’s real inheritance is not troublesome for her. She had, after all, been given a perfectly splendid education, and expressing dismay now would certainly display mauvais ton.

Helen DeWitt’s creation is an absolute delight. So measured and controlled. And, despite her youth, so wise. Even the brevity of the book is not distressing. An excess would, in Marguerite’s understanding, be mauvais ton.

Definitely recommended. Enjoy!

>11 RandyMetcalfe: I loved that book too. Marguerite was indeed very wise. I also read and loved another book by Helen DeWitt, The Last Samurai. I read it a fair number of years ago, and highly recommend it if you haven't read it.

>12 arubabookwoman: Yes, I did read The Last Samurai just last year. I agree with you. It’s an excellent book.

Good thread. Thank you for taking the time out to provide your thoughtful views on the books. I have added The Last Samurai and The English Understand Wool to my purchase list. Will give one of them a go.

7. What About the Baby?: Some Thoughts on the Art of Fiction by Alice McDermott

In the sixteen short pieces collected here, Alice McDermott touches upon a variety of themes relevant to the writing life. Or, more simply, life. Not strictly a self-help book for writers, it nevertheless reveals numerous lessons she has learned both as an accomplished novelist and as a teacher of would-be novelists.

She writes in an engaging fashion that is always readable, full of insight and wit. And in passing it is often highly illuminating. I especially liked the essays, “What About the Baby?,” and “Only Connect (Eventually)”.

Gently recommended for the would-be novelist in all of us.

8. The Book of Goose: a novel by Yiyun Li

Agnés and Fabienne were wild children, outcasts by choice, daring all, at least in their own minds. Years later, Agnés reflects on what made Fabienne so special and how their hopes and dreams, which were really Fabienne’s hopes and dreams, got tangled in the grasping aspirations of adults in the “real” world. Even the lovely idea of writing a book together gets corrupted. Though perhaps Fabienne could see what might be coming when she chose to insist that no one know of her involvement in Agnés’ stories.

Most of this novel is a linear remembrance by Agnés of those few years of their youth when she catapulted to fame as a supposed child prodigy author. But her greatest regret was that their game ended up separating these two bosom friends. Agnés endures mistreatment and worse at the hands of adults in Paris and later in England. Always though she longs to return to her friend, Fabienne.

This is wonderful writing by Yiyun Li. Fresh and alive, yet as might be expected, full of insight into the very nature of composition and creativity and more. I found Agnés’ story to be fully captivating, though I wished there were more of Fabienne especially in the latter half of the novel. Her driving force, once removed, cuts both Agnés and the novel adrift, at the mercy of a thoroughly unpleasant character in Mrs Townsend. And this probably contributes to the feeling that the ending is less than what one might hope. Even you can’t put your finger on exactly what it is you were hoping for.

Easily recommended, though with slight reservations.

9. Days at the Morisaki Bookshop by Satoshi Yagisaw

This is a book of two halves. The first half follows the disappointment of Takako as her apparent love-life disintegrates before her eyes. She abandons her job and eventually takes refuge at the Morisaki Bookshop owned by her uncle. There she lives in a room above the shop and slowly recharges her batteries under the care of her very kind uncle and his eclectic set of devoted customers. Once she is able to confront her deceitful “boyfriend” she is well on her way to recovery.

The second half of the book is centred on Takako’s uncle, Satoru, whose wife Momoko had left him five years earlier. Her sudden reappearance sends shockwaves through the whole used-bookstore community. Satoru enlists his niece’s help in ferreting out both why Momoko left and why she came back, and, more important, whether she is back for good.

This second story is ultimately both very sad and heartwarming. So be prepared for tears and joy. Such sentimentality is perhaps not unusual in Japanese popular fiction and no doubt explains why this book was such a success in Japan.

Gently recommended.

10. Life Ceremony: stories by Sayaka Murata

Just no.

11. Some Trick: thirteen stories by Helen DeWitt

The stories in this collection remind you repeatedly that Helen DeWitt is fiercely intelligent. Many of her protagonists are also fiercely intelligent. And it would be fascinating to witness her sitting down with them at a dinner party, but rather too frightening for one to attend. Many of these stories are from her early days in Oxford and efficiently take that as their setting. Others are set about the world and unsurprisingly involve characters with a profusion of languages. The subjects of the stories range wildly but all involve some sort of intellectual problem that needs resolution or at least confrontation. You will either find such esoteric manias thrilling or distressing.

The writing is always crisp and sometimes pointed. It can border on the introspective but interiority of this form is typically also expressive in some fashion. Probably best not to worry too much about it; just go along with the story and it will work itself out.

Easy to recommend but probably not for everyone.

12. The Vulnerables: a novel by Sigrid Nunez

There are connections in life, even a life in the midst of a pandemic, that tie our personal joy and pain to those of others. The narrator of The Vulnerables is a writer trapped by circumstance (the circumstance of not owning a second house in the country as it appears most of her friends do) in New York City during COVID. If you recall those early months of 2020, you may also have had the sense that nothing was beyond strange. Even finding oneself in a friend’s palatial Manhattan apartment taking care of their parrot while one’s own apartment was being used by a doctor from Oregon volunteering her services in New York City. If a volatile youth joins you in the apartment — the former caretaker of the parrot — then that too is just one of those things that happen in life. And eventually, perhaps, one’s writer’s block will ease. Maybe.

Filled with beguiling discussions of art and life and seemingly random enthusiasms, Nunez’ novel takes its time to form a clear picture. Like the brain fog often identified as both a symptom of the illness and of isolation anxiety. But give it time and it will reward your patience. A gentle, thoughtful, very human take on vulnerability in uncertain times.

Recommended.

13. The Last Samurai Reread by Lee Konstantinou

Readers who were enthralled by or even bemused by Helen DeWitt’s The Last Samurai may be looking for some intelligent discussion of the novel. If so, Lee Konstantinou’s contribution to Columbia University Press’ “Rereadings” series may be just the ticket. He promises a fresh approach incorporating methodologies from sociology and anthropology which, he thinks, help to appreciate just what DeWitt has attempted and possibly accomplished with her novel. His account is supplemented with numerous interviews with key players in the publishing process for the novel as well as, especially, with DeWitt herself. It makes for an interesting yet engaging read.

Konstantinou’s thesis is that The Last Samurai, in effect, reflects its own troubled publishing history. The challenges DeWitt faced, some of which were self-generated, find analogy in Sibylla’s and Ludo’s story. It is a bold claim that may risk Konstantinou taking on the folly of Roemer, whose fallacious critical reasoning set Sibylla on her path to destruction (or salvation). Yet, I think he does enough to at least merit consideration for his comprehensive interpretation. Or at least it makes for diverting reading, whether or not you find it ultimately persuasive.

Recommended for those who have read The Last Samurai and are ready to think about it anew.

14. I Remember by Joe Brainard

As the afterward by Ron Padgett makes clear, Joe Brainard’s I Remember is a meticulously crafted set of remembrances that only have the superficial appearance of being off-the-cuff. Brainard worked on various sets of his “I remember…” selections over the course of years, painstakingly printing them out by hand. Perhaps this is why there seems to be so little that is superfluous. Even very small remembrances seem utterly apt. It is surely a difficult technique which must often produce fatuous results in the many writing schools where it has been adopted as an exercise.

I found that the collection both reveals a very particular Joe Brainard to the reader even as it seems to cast a veil over him. But maybe that’s because I’m a suspicious reader. And there really isn’t a need to be here. Perhaps. In any case, this makes for a sometimes pleasant and always interesting read.

Recommended.

15. Poverty Creek Journal: On Life and Running by Thomas Gardner

The fifty-two reflections gathered here mark the course of a year. They are knit out of the narrator's run that day and a particular poem or philosophical writing, sometimes the condition of the run foregrounded and at others the poet’s insight. They amount to meandering meditations. Sometimes the thoughts are broadly sweeping. But more typically they are very particular and personal. The narrator touches upon his life as a literature professor, his children, his parents, and his siblings, especially his younger brother who dies near the beginning of this year.

The writing is measured and calm. Enthusiasm for his running life as much as for the poets whom he treasures is evident. And though collectively they can create a sort of blur, they are never less than patiently putting one idea after another, like a good run.

Gently recommended.

Nice to see you posting, Randy.

Your last book appeals to me.

16. Kingdom of Characters: A Tale of Language, Obsession, and Genius in Modern China by Jing Tsu

For those not already aware of its recent history, the development and transformation of written Chinese in the past 200 years will come across as breathtaking. I had no idea that the language that I’m in the very early stages of learning had so recently settled on its romanized form, PinYin, or that the elegant strokes of the characters are actually a simplified version of the more complex ancient characters. And of course I had no inkling of the many figures vital to this development. So this book, for me, was a definite eye-opener. That makes evaluating how well it told its tale somewhat problematic. If I knew more, perhaps I might be more critical. Certainly I learned a lot. And I have a much greater appreciation of the huge effort that has been undertaken to transform written Chinese.

So, certainly recommended for those, like me, who until now knew so little. And probably recommended as well for those who know more.

>25 RandyMetcalfe: Read that one too this year, Randy. As you say very helpful for those of us not familiar with the intricacies of the Chinese system of writing.

17. Clara Reads Proust by Stéphane Carlier

Perhaps not everyone who happens to read Proust’s great work will find their life transformed. (Though I rather hope they do!) For Clara, who works as a hairdresser in a provincial French town, it was rather like the spilling of a few pebbles that slowly turns into an avalanche. She didn’t even want her life to change when she picked up the copy of Swann’s Way that a customer had left behind. Or maybe she did. Because once she started reading the book, she soon came to see that her life left a lot to be desired. Which might explain why her desire turned towards reading this difficult, yet strangely engrossing, book. Soon she was stealing time to read more. And even talking about the book with clients (a mistake). And eventually finding someone else who had been equally overtaken by the work. By the time she notices, her life has already transformed. And reading Proust becomes reading Proust to others and that leads to…

This is a very light but charming book. Alas, the passages from Proust that Clara enthuses about are given in English translation, so the reader can’t fully appreciate why she might be so taken with their character when read aloud. You’ll just have to go with it, and if you’ve bothered to read a book about a young woman reading Proust, then you almost certainly will. Which leaves little need for me to provide a recommendation. But I will.

Gently recommended.

18. You Are Here: a novel by David Nicholls

Michael and Marnie have a mutual friend, Cleo, who loves them both but sees that they have become less than themselves as a result of relationships that went off, or perhaps were always a bit off. Marnie is practically a recluse, working from home as a copy-editor in London. Michael is Cleo’s colleague at a school in York but he is always just a step away from depression. It’s been this way for years for both of them. Cleo’s big idea is to convince Michael to join her and a group of others, a group that includes Marnie, for the coast to coast walk from St Bee’s to Robin Hood’s Bay. Well, very likely only Michael would complete the entire walk, but the others would walk along for a few days and in this way her friends would be forced, gently, to emerge. Of course Cleo has not planned that Michael and Marnie will fall for each other, indeed she had others in mind for each of them, but best laid plans and long distance walks gang aft agley.

This is a gentle book with likeable characters who stumble over the rough terrain of finding each other. It won’t challenge you, unless you find a 17 mile hike over moorland with full backpacks implausible. (Actually it might be!) Michael is charming though slightly damaged by life. Marnie, with a failed marriage behind her, has nearly given up on ever putting herself at emotional risk again. She is witty and urbane, though perhaps the less believable character (others might reverse those opinions). Like a long distance walk, you’ll be able to see the ending from a long way off. But you’ll still be glad when you get there.

Gently recommended.

I was somewhat bemused by You Are Here. David Nicholls is, I think, a popular novelist. His books are published and promoted by one of the largest presses in the world. When one of his books comes out, it gets prominent and prolonged exposure in a great many bookshops. Yet for some reason the publisher felt it necessary to include 33 blurbs from other popular novelists and non-fiction writers declaring that this was exactly the book you would expect it to be, i.e. a gentle romance (the kind of thing that will make a fine middle-of-the-road film or TV series).

19. Erasure by Percival Everett

Thelonius ‘Monk’ Ellison is a writer. Unfortunately he is a writer of high-brow serious experimental fiction. Which, in America, means that, unless you see his author photo on the dust jacket, you will assume that he is white. Not that Monk really minds since he doesn’t think in those terms. However, when an educated middle-class female black writer gains acclaim and substantial remuneration for a so-called “ghetto” novel, Monk is envious. Well, not envious, really. He is dismissive of such a crass exploitation that gets mistaken for “truth”. Plus all the money. Okay, maybe he is a bit envious. But when he pens an equally phoney true story, under a pseudonym, his goal is merely to show up the literary establishment for the fools that they are. But the money… It’s both tempting and, given his mother’s need for immediate long term care, actually necessary. Surely he won’t have to perpetrate this charade for long.

There is a lot going on in this novel. The surface drama set in the world of literary fiction may be a kind of red herring. The real drama, I think, is the one taking place in Ellison’s family of achievers. His doctor brother and doctor sister were slighted by his doctor father who felt only Monk had something special. The father was a very curious and, it turns out, secretive person. Other characters move in and out of Monk’s sphere of influence. But increasingly even Monk begins to worry that there may be no centre to his sphere, no there there. Has he ended up erasing himself?

As with everything I’ve read by Percival Everett, this novel is easy to recommend.

20. The Last Song of Penelope by Claire North

One way or another, Odysseus was always going to find his way home. Of course it might not be much of a homecoming, what with the 100-odd suitors in his palace, no cohort of loyal Ithacan warriors at his beck and call, and something odd about the women that he just can’t put his finger on. Ever the wily one, Odysseus puts on a disguise and bides his time. Or nearly. Events, especially those that will soon be part of poems and songs, do have a way of pressing one forward. The problem is that he just might not be the man he used to be. Which may be all that will save him in the end.

Claire North is more constrained in this last of her Penelope trilogy. Odysseus must return and he must enact his vengeance upon the suitors. The poems tie her hands. But just exactly what that means or how it gets played out in detail still provides sufficient leeway for her to breathe new life into this ancient tale of leadership and revenge. If you enjoyed North’s first two Penelope novels, then you are sure to find this one satisfying. Here Athena, goddess of wisdom and war, and sponsor of her favoured champion Odysseus is allowed to observe and critique the actions and thoughts of the mortals at her feet. And if all her stratagems over the many years have been successful, then Odysseus just might prove to be that unthought of thing, a new kind of hero, a new model for what is possible for a man. But first he’s going to have to learn to respect and show respect for his wife.

Easy to recommend.

21. Parade: a novel by Rachel Cusk

The four sections into which Rachel Cusk’s book is divided appear to stand alone. In some there are two narratives interweaving. But in each narrative of each of the sections there is a character identified as G. G is typically an artist of some sort. He or she may be a writer or painter or film maker. G might be the central point of view in the narrative or a more distant character against which the central character reacts. In each narrative or perhaps “narrative”, abstruse themes concerning art, representation, subjugation, identity, and more are considered. At times this blocks any narrative thrust, distancing the reader from both the characters and their situations. But at other times the “philosophical” discussions feel more integrated. And this may coincide with the waxing and waning interest the reader might experience.

Cusk is a celebrated writer who challenges narrative form in many of her works. Parade is squarely in that lineage. Whether or not it can hold your interest, or warrants doing so, is an open question. I think if you take up this book with an appropriate degree of willingness to engage in its more esoteric considerations, then you might find it well worth reading. However, I think this will be a small cohort of Cusk’s potential readership.

>30 RandyMetcalfe: I bought a copy of this after seeing the movie "American Fiction". I'm looking forward to reading it soon!

22. really good, actually by Monica Heisey

Maggie and Jon broke up. Not just broke up. They are getting divorced. Even though they have only been married a few years. Though they had been living together even more years before that. The thing was that Maggie thought her life was basically sorted out. And now she finds that she is still in her twenties and already divorcing and she had not planned on that. And now it’s all tears and emotional support from her friends and aberrant behaviour all the way down. And there just doesn’t seem to be any bottom. And definitely no future.

Maggie’s breakup and breakdown doesn’t break any new ground. The writing is full of gags and set pieces that are humorous even if predictable. But it feels like sketch comedy writing, if that is a definable thing. Since we catch Maggie already in the process of breaking (up and down), we never get a chance to see how it is even possible that she gathered this rather large cohort of amazingly tolerant (of her) and supportive friends. We are told that she had basically been in one long monogamous relationship for years but we mostly see her trying her hand at hookup apps and having various sexual encounters (she also seems to be experimenting with the possibility that she is bisexual). And always with the jokes, both aggressive and self-deprecating. You can’t help but worry for her, but you never feel as though you know who she is. On the other hand, I am probably too old for this novel. Maybe younger people find all of this completely perspicuous. I confess to just feeling a bit tired and queasy.

I’m sure it’s fine and that other people will enjoy it, but it’s not really good, actually, so I can’t recommend it.

23. Honeybees and Distant Thunder by Riku Onda

An international piano competition, filled with anxious performers, a bit of ruthlessness, and a touch of envy, is perhaps an unlikely setting for exploring the transcendence that music makes possible. Well, possible under just the right conditions. Here those conditions include childhood playmates reconnecting after more than a decade, an older pianist who is married and has a child and who works for living but takes this last chance on his music and himself, and a boy-genius so gifted that his famous deceased teacher has offered him as a gift to the world. Over the four rounds of this competition, the original 90 competitors will be whittled down to just one. But it soon becomes clear that the real winner here is going to be music itself.

The overwhelming impression you will take away from this delightful novel is the author’s love of music and of those with the skill, determination, and bravery to perform it at the highest level. You do not need to be a classically trained pianist to enjoy Riku Onda’s descriptions of the pieces in the competition. But if that is your background, as it is mine, you will probably be thinking you’d like to settle down on your piano bench right now for an hour or two, or a month, or a year. Or failing that, to listen to some of those CDs in your collection that will rekindle the embers of your own love of music. By all means do so. I will!

Recommended for music lovers of all kinds.

24. Villa Triste by Patrick Modiano

A holiday town in Haute-Savoie, near Geneva. Victor Chmara recalls the time he spent there as a young man near the start of the war in Algiers. His memory is both precise and muddled. He can recall the clothes that people were wearing in great detail, street names, the lights across the lake, but he has forgotten faces and most names and perhaps even why he had come to that town or why he lingered. Back then he took up with a local girl named Yvonne and her friend Meinthe, who may or may not have been a doctor. Together they skimmed the edges of high society and low farce. But mostly the past, for Chmara, is like a dream, indistinct, full of portent, yet mostly likely meaningless. Except perhaps for the vivid realization that the future was slipping out of reach for he and his friends.

This early novel by Patrick Modiano perfectly captures his signature style. There is the untrustworthiness of memory, the juxtaposition of youth and lost-youth, the vagueness of desire, and the underlying threat of violence. To describe it as atmospheric would be an understatement. And why does Victor travel with a suitcase full of telephone directories? The unexplained here is ever unexplained. Classic Modiano.

Very easy to recommend.

25. Tell Me Everything: a novel by Elizabeth Strout

“It’s just life.” As Bob Burgess, Lucy Barton, Olive Kitteridge and others encounter the many stories of what Lucy calls “unrecorded lives”, they note the many sad incidents, some of which are horrific actually, and the fewer but more precious incidents of hope or kindness or love. What does it all amount to? It’s just life. Perhaps it has no further meaning than that. And yet we find ourselves captivated, as Olive, or Lucy, or Bob are, by these stories of unrecorded lives. What do we find so fascinating about stories that are no more meaningful (or less) than the stories in our own lives?

Elizabeth Strout weaves these stories through characters we have come to know well over the years. Perhaps “know well” overstates it. We’ve had so much contact with them that they’ve virtually become characters in our own lives. It makes it hard to even evaluate this novel as a novel. Because it would surely mean so much less if we hadn’t read all those other novels by Elizabeth Strout. And that itself raise challenges for the author. Challenges and opportunities which perhaps aren’t available to most other writers. I’m not sure finally what it all means. Perhaps it’s just life.

Easily recommended.

26. Golden Age by Wang Xiaobo

What is a man at 20, 30, or 40? In three novella-length stories, Wang Xiaobo answers this question with the example of his hero, Wang Er, who is rather self-reflective for a tearaway youth. At 20, Wang Er is irrepressibly focused on his sexual satisfaction. Enough so as to risk a considerable amount of punishment during China’s Cultural Revolution to attain his goals. At 30, he is a teacher at a college but, yes, still rather focused on his nether regions. And at 40? At 40, death, his own and that of others, comes to fore, almost wining out against his need for sexual fulfillment.

The writing style is very direct, even when it is written obliquely. Confession, which was a mandated ritual during the Cultural Revolution, dominates the style of the first book. The latter two are less directly confessional though perhaps more searching after the real import of events in Wang Er’s life. The author is intimately familiar with both Chinese literature and the western canon, so the allusions are often writ large. But that should probably be read with caution. For example, Wang Er’s disquisition on Descartes’ cogito inference is slyly self-serving and by no means a proof of his erudition (despite his claims). This suggests that the novellas are all perhaps considerably more layered than might be guessed on first reading. At least I think so.

Definitely worth reading but it probably doesn’t bear the comparisons you might find in the blurbs on the cover.

Just wanted to stop by and say hello. I am enjoying your reviews and book choices and have added a few to my list.

27. Tom Lake: a novel by Ann Patchett

During the cherry harvest on a farm in upper Michigan during the recent pandemic, Lara, at the insistence of her three adult daughters who are seeing out the emergency at home on the family farm, tells the story of how she came to know Peter Duke, a famous actor that the girls variously admire or adore. Lara’s story is lengthy but it starts in high school when she decides to try out for the part of Emily in a production of Wilder’s “Our Town.” It’s a history that Lara’s girls know in part, or think they do. But as she parcels out the story of her acting career and what became of it later during a season of summer stock at Tom Lake, the girls find that most of their assumptions have played them false.

Patchett’s drip-feed story telling has some benefits. But also some drawbacks. Some of the reveals are simply not plausible. They are not plausible because all of the characters present would simply have to know many of these details already. So when we, as readers, learn who Lara’s husband really is half way through the novel, it feels like we’ve simply been hoodwinked. There are other examples, but clearly Patchett sees this as a viable technique and perhaps we simply differ on that. The unrevealed (to the daughters) coda is equally narratively distressing though for different reasons. It’s impossible for me to recognize Lara in that situation.

There are many things to like about the novel and the writing, as would be expected from an Ann Patchett novel. But for me the negatives outweigh the positives.

And so, not recommended this time.

28. The Three-Body Problem by Cixin Liu

Revolutions in science and politics smash everything including our conceptions of what is possible. Ye Wenjie’s world is utterly overthrown when her scientist father is killed by fanatical Red Guard teenagers. Compared to his death, her ongoing life of struggle was as nothing. Since nothing in this world was either worth saving or could save itself, Ye was susceptible to the unthinkable — the very possibility of an external power that might come and judge and, more likely, punish those responsible for things here, i.e. humanity itself. Her cry for the destruction of humanity seems a fitting response to revolutionary insanity.

Cixin Liu sets his extraterrestrial fantasy in the very real history of China. It was horrific on so many levels. I almost didn’t need the extraterrestrial storyline at all. Indeed when that storyline becomes the focus of the novel, it seems to lose dimensions.

Gently recommended for SF fans.

29. Kairos by Jenny Erpenbeck

One day in 1986, Katharina catches the eye of Hans on the tram. When she gets off, he follows. She turns to meet his gaze. And that’s rather where you may wish this story had come to its end. Soon enough it is clear what Hans sees in her — she is young (19), beautiful, and full of life. But what does she in him? He is 34 years her senior and not especially attractive. He is, however, a published author, though how exactly that could transmit itself as an attractive feature via an eye caught on a tram is beyond me. At first their relationship seems exhilarating. But it isn’t long before Hans’ domineering and manipulative traits come to the fore. And you might, along with some of Katharina’s friends, think her continuing in the relationship is just stupid. It rather gets worse from there. So much so that even the seismic events of the late 80’s in East Berlin aren’t enough to distract one from the distastefulness of this relationship.

Jenny Erpenbeck is a fine writer whose previous works I have admired. But here she presents a young woman whose actions are, at least to me, utterly inexplicable. Hans is just straightforwardly creepy. Enough said. But what explains Katharina’s behaviour? Nothing that the novel reveals, sadly. And so I found myself just longing for it all to end. Unless, perhaps this is all meant as an allegory of East Germany’s infatuation with the creepy and creaking mass of state socialism…? No, I think I’m just grasping at straws.

Sadly, not recommended.

Thinking of you at this time, Randy.

>43 PaulCranswick: Thanks, Paul. Best of the season to you as well.

30. People We Meet On Vacation by Emily Henry

Poppy and Alex are from Linfield, Ohio. Poppy is ready to go…anywhere, so long as it is away. Alex is more of a home body because he has had to be. They meet for the first time in freshman year at college. There are sparks, certainly, but it might just be an electrical short because they are so very different. They have their first long conversation on a shared ride back to Linfield for Christmas that year. The bond is formed. Sparky repartee in a car, at a bar, by text, or by phone dominates their relationship. Will they ever get beyond it and stop talking? Or will they stop talking because they are too close to the edge of getting beyond themselves? Time will tell.

Emily Henry weaves another pleasurable tale of will they, won’t they as she follows Poppy and Alex across a decade of friendship.

Recommended for Emily Henry readers everywhere.

31. Your Guide to Not Getting Murdered in a Quaint English Village by Maureen Johnson

Some books are too silly for words. They are typically full of accompanying illustrations. Which are silly as well. The combination, however, is sometimes delightful. And fun.

As it is here.

Enjoy!