2018 round up

As anyone who’s read this blog for any time will have noticed, my updates took rather a dip in the second half of the year. That was due to my change of job, and indeed change of career. Happily I’ve not had any health issues or life crises.

Still, while I tend to have more predictable hours in the Civil Service, those hours I do have tend to be fairly densely packed which gives less downtime than I used to have. I’ll give some thought as to what that means for updates, but I doubt reviewing every book I read will be realistic any more.

Anyway, enough about the future, what about the past? Here, without further ado and in no particular order, are my books of 2018:

Best Western that’s not a hotel chain: Paulette Jiles’ News of the World.

I wrote this up way back in March and it’s stayed with me. I don’t read much fiction set in the Old West (though I do love Westerns). This somehow captures the sweep of the genre, but in a surprisingly slim volume. Despite it’s brevity it still packs in character growth, exciting set pieces and a lovely sense of the frontier. Really surprisingly good, and it’s held up very well in memory.

Best novel about a Bollywood-inspired computer virus: Transmission, by Hari Kunzru

This was Kunzru’s second novel and, as far as I understand, quite a disappointment to those who loved his first and wanted more like it. I’ve never read his first so can’t compare, but this certainly wasn’t a disappointment for me. I wrote it up here.

It is a bit slighter than some of the later Kunzru’s I’ve read, but I thoroughly enjoyed this tale of disparate lives brought together by a computer virus and a lonely geek’s love of a beautiful Bollywood film star.

It’s very Gibsonian, which I noted in my review comparing it to Gibson’s Pattern Recognition of a year earlier. They both capture something of their moment, but in Kunzru’s case with a definite sense of fun and with a certain romance to it all.

Best opening paragraph: The Haunting of Hill House, by Shirley Jackson

NO LIVE organism can continue for long to exist sanely under conditions of absolute reality; even larks and katydids are supposed, by some, to dream. Hill House, not sane, stood by itself against its hills, holding darkness within; it had stood so for eighty years and might stand for eighty more. Within, walls continued upright, bricks met neatly, floors were firm, and doors were sensibly shut; silence lay steadily against the wood and stone of Hill House, and whatever walked there, walked alone.

I really don’t think I need to say more than that quote. Just superb. The rest of the book’s pretty good too… Here‘s my full review.

Best novel with hidden depths: Ghachar Ghochar, by Vivek Shanbagh

(No full review of this one, but I wrote some thoughts in a monthly roundup here).

This seemed a bit slight when I read it. Slight even. It’s stayed with me though. I can remember the characters, the story such as it is, even some of the writing. It’s a lovely little tale of corruption and choices we may not notice ourselves making but are no less irrevocable for all that. This was actually a fair contender for my novel of the year just because it’s been such a stayer in memory.

Best SF/crime genre crossover: The City and the City, by China Miéville

Slightly reductive title there, as this is rather it’s own thing and arguably contains no SF elements other than the sense of strangeness and the other which is central to SF. I wrote a bit about it in my May writeup, here.

For those not familiar with it, it’s a crime novel of sorts, but set in a pair of spatially coterminous cities. As a matter of culture, tradition and strictly enforced law the inhabitants of each city must choose not to see the other, not to hear its sounds or take any part in its life. It’s a rule that’s threatened when a murder happens and it’s unclear which city the corpse is in.

What follows is both a murder inquiry and a sort of conspiracy thriller, but where there may be no conspiracy. It’s a comment on the Balkans in part, but also on everywhere where the citizenry are told what to believe, and believe the absurd because it’s safer than seeing the reality around them. It’s a novel about divisions of ethnicity, class, and all those barriers we erect which are all the more powerful for not being actually physically real.

It’s a high concept novel, but Miéville is a high concept writer so no surprise there. I loved the concept, and more importantly I loved how Miéville pulled all this off within the structure of a fairly standard crime novel (particularly the early chapters which are almost, but clearly intentionally, clichéd).

Best description of home decor in a novel: Care of Wooden Floors, by Will Wiles

This was also in my May writeup, but I then managed to get back to it and do a full post here. It’s held up well in memory, particularly for the skill with which Wiles captures space and light but also for the underlying humour and humanity of it – how our fallibility compromises, perhaps for the better, our dreams of perfection.

It does have far too many similes, as I note in my original review, and it almost got bumped from this list for that. Still, better a good novel with faults than a consistently average one. 

Novel with the most surprising staying power: A Quiet Place, by Seichi Matsumoto and translated by Louise Heal Kawai

Wow but May was a good month. This is in my May writeup too, and came closest to being bumped from this list (in fact, I initially cut it on my first pass over my list of books I’d read this year).

The reason this made it on to the list was that it suddenly occurred to me that nearly seven months later I can still remember pretty much all of it. I remember the characters, key scenes, the mood even. That’s impressive.

So, I can’t really say why it deserves a place on my list. It’s not the best thriller I read in the year, I liked it rather than loved it when I initially read it, but here it is still just as clear as the day after I finished it. I think that deserves some recognition, and speaks of some talent too.

Most expensive book of the year: The Great Fortune, by Olivia Manning

Most expensive in the sense that I started it in Kindle, but liked it so much I went out and bought all six volumes of the sequence it’s part of in hardcopy. 

I wrote about this at length here, and I’ve not much more to say in this post. The descriptions of a city under siege, and of a marriage equally under siege, were superb. I plan to return to Manning fairly early on in the New Year. Another contender for book of the year.

Best novel about goats: Goat Days, by Benyamin and translated by Joseph Koyippally

Translated from the Malayalam no less, a language I didn’t even know the name of before reading this (which is a comment on the limits of my education rather than the language).  I didn’t write it up and sadly I’ve lost the post which originally alerted me to it.

Goat Days is a novel about the treatment of migrant workers in the Gulf. Najeeb travels there from India hoping to make money to send home to his family. Instead he finds himself effectively enslaved on a remote goat farm. His only human company is the vicious overseer who is barely better off than he is, and of course the goats. It is a life of utter privation and misery with no easy prospect of escape.

It sounds horribly bleak, and the situation is, but it’s written in hindsight so we know Najeeb somehow does escape, though as the book opens he’s so desperate he’s trying to get himself arrested in the hope of being fed and deported. Najeeb’s humanity shines through though, as does his resourcefulness and his memories of his home. I found it a surprisingly light read for such a dark subject, a clever mixture of comedy and existentialism, and if you’ve not heard of it I’d suggest it’s at least worth taking a look at if you can find a copy.

Best romantic fiction with an SFnal twist: Exit West, by Mohsin Hamid

So by this point it’s fairly clear I’m a big fan of Hamid’s work. Exit West is his 2017 novel partly about the refugee crisis but also about a love story between two fairly ordinary teenagers. 

It opens in an unnamed city, likely in Pakistan though not necessarily so (it’s not the first time Hamid’s used that device). Saeed, a good natured and religious young man, falls in love with an intelligent and independent young woman Nadia and she with him.

Militant forces are encroaching on the city, so their love takes place in a time of impending (if local) apocalypse). They have dates, arguments, conversations deep into the night; meanwhile the bombings and news of atrocities gets ever closer. 

However, there is one wrinkle. Doorways are appearing across the world. Enter one and you come out somewhere else (the mechanics of this is never explained and isn’t remotely the focus of the story). That magical device means that people trapped as Saeed and Nadia are have the possibility if they can find the right door of stepping right across the world into a better life.

The decision to leave your home, even in the face of war, is difficult and you’ll be leaving behind everything you know for who know’s what? Reactions to these unasked for migrants are mixed, some compassionate, many hostile. The doors allow Hamid to ignore the logistics of emigration and instead focus on the experience. In the midst of all of this he paints a tender and persuasive love story, often unexpected and often touching too.

I loved it, and it was also one of the clear front-runners for my book of the year.

Best novel featuring overly precocious children: The Beginning of Spring, by Penelope Fitzgerald

Well, who but Fitzgerald could ever win the price for best novel featuring overly precocious children? The Beginning of Spring is Fitzgerald’s marvellous novel about an Englishman in Moscow in 1913 who is abandoned by his wife for no obvious reason and left to raise their children as best he can.

It’s funny, the description above is accurate, but it captures nothing of the book. It’s an elusive book (to borrow a description JacquiWine used of it) and it’s protagonist is notable mostly for his utter lack of understanding of himself and everyone around him. It’s a book in which more is left unsaid than is ever said, and perhaps a novel too of unbridgeable distances and miscommunications. 

There’s a full review of it by JacquiWine here, and a less positive review by Kaggsy here. Simon Lavery also wrote rather well about it here. Lastly, Sam Jordison wrote a rather good piece about it in the Guardian here.

And that takes me to, drumroll please:

My best book of the year 2018: Flights, by Olga Tokarczuk and translated by Jennifer Croft

It’s not ideal that I didn’t write at all about what’s turned out to be my favourite book of the year, but there you go. Fortunately, Tony of Tony’s Reading List did the honours here. 

It’s not an easy book to describe, as there’s no plot as such and no clear connective tissue. Instead there’s a series of vignettes, some returned to, some not about matters as disparate as a man who loses his wife and child on a tiny island while on holiday; an unnamed traveler (possibly the narrator) passing through airports and constantly in transit; the real life story of Angelo Soliman, an African-born Austrian Freemason and courtier of the 18th Century who on his death had his body mounted and stuffed by his friend the Austrian Emperor and displayed as an example of a savage. 

There’s much more than that though. As you read it themes emerge, about travel and about the body itself, the irreducibility of the physical self however much we hurl it about the planet. Stories are left hanging unresolved, sometimes returned to, sometimes not. You have to construct your own narrative from it, but Tokarczuk holds your hand as you do so.

I read it, appropriately enough, while travelling. I read it on planes and in Rome and Marrakech. I think that helped. It’s a book which merits a little transience on the reader’s part.

And that’s it! Hopefully some of what’s above was of interest, and apologies to all the highly deserving books which didn’t make the list but which might have on another day.

Happy New Year, one and all!



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15 responses to “2018 round up

  1. So many good books in here (although I personally was not quite as enamoured with Exit West – I thought it started well, and really liked the concept of the doors, but it lost its way a little halfway through).

  2. I must, must read Flights, but I doubt if I am up for reading a 6-volume Olivia Manning. Maybe one. I agree with you about both ‘New of the World’ and ‘Ghachar Chochar’. An excellent list.

  3. It’s great to see a round-up from you, especially one containing so many interesting books. So much so that I’ve bookmarked it for future reference during the months ahead.

    I’m so pleased to see that you enjoyed The Beginning of Spring, it really is a terrific book. I think I’m right in saying that Fitzgerald had never been to Russia in her life – amazing really considering the apparent authenticity she was able to bring to her evocation of the setting. Anyway, it’s lovely to see it listed here – and thanks for the link to my piece, much appreciated.

    Hill we’ve already chatted about as it’s on my list too. Do you think you’ll go on to read more Shirley Jackson? I have a collection of her short stories on the shelf, so that might be a good one for Halloween.

    A Quiet Place is definitely calling me. I recall making a note of it following Guy’s review a couple of years ago, so your inclusion of it here is a timely reminder. It sounds like the type of story I would enjoy.

    The Balkan trilogy is on my TBR, has been for a few years now, The only thing that’s holding me back is the prospect of holding such a massive brick-shaped book for hours on end! Anyway, it sounds marvellous, just my type of thing. Her ability to evoke the cultural ‘feel’ of a place is very impressive – certainly based on my experience of The Doves of Venus and School for Love.

    Happy New Year to you, Max. I hope you’ll get a chance to post more frequently in 2019. It’s always a pleasure to see your reviews.

  4. Agree with Jacqui: hope you have a chance to post more this year. I’ve missed them!
    Completely agree re: Quiet Place. At the time I was like: Well, that was satisfying but not earth-shattering, but then it too stayed with me all year. And in fact I still think of it occasionally (I read it two or three years ago–forget now).
    Anyway, great list. I’ve had City & the City for years. Really ought to get to that. Sounds like it would be my thing.
    So did you read Levant Trilogy too?

  5. News of the World sounds great. I read Jiles’ Enemy Women years ago and really loved it: it defied my preconception of not liking westerns! Happy New Year to you and good luck with the career change… I made one of them about two years ago and it seriously curtailed my blogging mojo.

  6. You’re not the only one to think that of Exit West Marina. I read a very good review in a Welsh arts journal (not sure how I came across it) which made a very similar point.

    Tony, I probably got Ghachar Ghochar and News of the World in part due to you, so not surprising we agree! I think the thing with the Mannings is that the first at least stands alone, though I admit it is a little daunting to know there’s five more after that…

    Hi Jacqui! I definitely liked Spring. I can see why Kaggsy was less taken, but I thought it very good indeed. Your word from a comment at Kaggsy’s, elusive, I did think was spot on. So much of what happens is unclear, or at least the motives are unclear.

    I understand the research is actually pretty rock solid in Spring too, which is impressive given Fitzgerald never went there. Kaggsy makes the point that the protagonist doesn’t, as he thinks he does, understand the Russians but I think that’s intentional.

    I have We Have Always Lived in the Castle to read, which I think I got after your review of it.

    The Manning would be very much you. I really do think you’d enjoy it.

    Dorian, interesting you had the same experience with Quiet Place. Remarkable.

    The City and the City is interesting. It does start out with a fairly traditional police procedural approach which at first seems a bit obvious, then it throws in some potential SFnal elements and again it seems you can see exactly where it’s going, but all that’s intentional and it’s cleverer than it seems.

    Only the first of the Manning’s so far. I’ve your posts saved for when I eventually get to the later ones.

  7. News of the World is great. Enemy Women I don’t know, but I am in the market for more Jiles so I’ll look out for that.

  8. Happy new year to you too! No, I didn’t gel with the Fitzgerald, although I guess that could be the fault of my expectations and not actually the book! But Flights was remarkable, and it made my end of year list as well.

  9. Who knows Kaggsy? Sometimes books just don’t gel with us. I haven’t read your list yet, but glad to hear Flights is on it.

  10. Nice to see all the South Asian titles. I’m becoming more aware of the number of Indian languages, and watching for translations. I haven’t read any Benyamin yet but when I return to India next month I will be spending time in Kerala where it is the native language (with a friend for whom it is her first language). My base will be in Bangalore where the official language is Kannada, the language from which Ghachar Ghochar is translated. I agree that that little book is deceptively slight. It is actually a story with uncertain but very darkly unsettling undertones. I think that’s why it sticks.

    Happy new year and good luck in your new career!

  11. Nice selection! Happy New Year and congrats on the new job.

  12. Once again, I love your categories … must emulate this one year. You made me laugh more than once.

    Enjoyed your choices though I don’t know most of the books. However, I did love this statement from you: “This seemed a bit slight when I read it. Slight even. It’s stayed with me though.” It makes the point that, sometimes, the books that stick with us aren’t necessarily the ones we might “objectively” think are the best books but something about them – a tone, an idea or characters that resonates – makes them stick. Love that you have such a book in your tops of the year list.

  13. A very nice list. I also loved A Quiet Place. I reviewed maybe less than 30% of what I read. Unfortunately, not because of career changes but health issues.
    I wasn’t aware you changed jobs. I’m sure it was a good choice. I’m glad you liked Ghachar Ghochar, as it’s on my piles.

  14. Diana @ Thoughts on Papyrus

    Great list. I absolutely loved “News of the World” too, and I am now interested reading “A Quiet Place”. I cannot get used to the idea of Mohsin Hamid writing a story with a science-fiction element in it, maybe that is why I have not yet picked up “Exit West”. I am a huge fan of his “The Reluctant Fundamentalist”, and am currently reading his debut “Moth Smoke”, a very impressive debut too.

  15. Wow, I missed several comments here. I’m sorry about that.

    Rough, I think I’ve been missing out on South Asian literature, and I have more in the pipeline for this year. Any recommendations definitely appreciated and I’ll be looking at yours for tips too.

    Lollipop! Thank you! A belated thank you, but definitely meant.

    WG, it comes from my old days in the City where industry awards would be for things like Best Southern European Bond-Financed Road Project. The awards guys make their money by selling tables, people don’t like to attend if they don’t think they’ll win, so the awards get bizarrely specific (if you saw that particular award the odds would be there was only one Southern European bond-financed road project in that year …).

    Shame I used slight twice in that paragraph. Oh for an editor. But yes, I think you’re right. It’s incredibly hard to predict what will stick with time and what won’t, and when blogging we have a tendency to give fresh responses (which is fine) but the end of year post is a good time to think which of those books have actually unpacked in memory.

    Caroline, I’m sorry you’ve had health issues and I hope things improve. A Quiet Place is, perhaps fittingly, a quiet book as is Ghachar. Both though are remarkably memorable. Sometimes, with some authors, one just can’t see how they do it (or I can’t anyway).

    Diana, News of the World is I think really interesting, because it captures that widescreen John Ford feel but in a fairly small number of pages.

    I’m a massive Hamid fan (not that I’ve read Moth Smoke yet). Have you tried his How to Get Rich …? There’s a review here (also of Reluctant for that matter), and I thought it again very good.

    Exit is an interesting one. It’s an SF gimme in that it’s a clearly non-realistic element introduced into the world (really a fantasy element I suppose), but Hamid has no interest in how or why or anything like that. It’s a device to bring mass population movements into sharp focus. I would still therefore suggest you give it a try – I read a reasonable amount of SF and honestly until you said it I hadn’t thought to classify Exit as being in that genre. I’m still not sure I would. I’d say it’s more literary fiction with an incredible plot device put in without explanation so as to allow him to explore some really topical issues without getting bogged down in logistics.

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