Looking back on my stack from last January, I see one of those books is in my stack of reading now (Kim Bo-Young’s stories, which were longer than I’d expected).
Typically, I notice that first, and overlook that I read all the rest: isn’t it hard to not let Thoughts of the Unread spiral?
Having just finished tidying up my log for the previous year, with thoughts of reading habits and patterns in mind, my stack of library loans fits: the emphasis on newer books and fiction, with recommendations from near (bookfriends) and far (literary events and interviews), and a satisfying blend of diverse stories and styles.
Claire Adam’s Golden Child is a recommendation—from Shivanee, I believe, but perhaps others also suggested it—and I’m looking forward to it. I’ve just finished Chistina Cooke’s debut novel Broughtupsy for review, which is set in Jamaica and Claire Adam’s Golden Child is set in Trinidad.
Another waterfront story is Carley Fortune’s Meet Me at the Lake, which is shortlisted for 2024’s Canada Reads. At this point, I’m kinda rooting for Catherline Leroux’s The Future (which I read in Susan Ouriou’s translation), set in a post-industrial Fort Détroit (which, in Leroux’s imagination, the French didn’t cede to the British when Montreal fell): clever and hopeful, but I’ve three more selections to read.
James McBride is in my stack because I fell hard for Good Lord Bird years ago, but I’m also thinking of Emma’s recent enthusiasm for it. The Weinersmith’s volume A City on Mars caught my interest via a podcast, but the cover could have caught me too: I hope it’s as fun as their interview (like the blurb promises).
Picking Up the Pieces: Residential School Memories and the Making of the Witness Blanket seems to contain more photography than narrative. This imagery, combined with the focus on personal history, makes it almost impossible to set aside the book once you’ve picked up a copy. Carey Newman and Kirstie Hudson include a reading list in the back, and there’s a documentary film.
I’m writing about my library books with Rebecca’s #LoveYourLibrary in mind, but there are plenty of books in the wings from my own shelves right now too. Most of them are related to plans for this year, but there are standalones too.
Recently I finally finished Colin McAdam’s Black Dove, which was a tough read for me, thematically; McAdam goes into dark places in his writing and he has a way of capturing his characters’ struggles which is both beautiful and painful; it’s often uncomfortable spending time with them, but you want to understand because you believe they’re real. (If there was an award for book-started-most-frequently in 2023, this one would win from my stacks, but it was worth the wait.)
Also equal parts challenge and reward is Jón Kalman Stefánsson’s Your Absence Is Darkness (in translation from the Icelandic by Philip Roughton, available in Canada in March). At the sentence level, his language is gorgeous. They vary in length and in style, and some of the sentences are sprawling and complex, and my own unfamilarity with Icelandic names (turns out you can’t learn everything from Trapped) slows me a little too, but even though the themes are heavy, there is a spark of playfulness and openness that keeps me turning the pages.
And I’m reading the Winter issue of Granta. I’m so unfamiliar with German literature that, for a time, I thought the piece I’m reading now was called Leif Randt by someone called Allegro Pastell–but those names should be reversed. It’s character-driven, the scenes are detailed and evocative, and there’s a quiet tension with two lovers meeting at a train station and leaving together.
Later this week, I’ll post my 2023 reflections and 2024 plans, which have been underway for long enough now that they’ve proven themselves reasonable.
Meet Me At the Lake is not a book I would normally prioritize (based on the cover and the very little I know of what type of book it is), but I have it on hold because of Canada Reads. When a book gets chosen for that event, I can’t help but be curious. I don’t know if all the holds will come in before the event itself. We’ll see! At this point, I am also rooting for The Future. I don’t think I told you, but child #1 went to see Leroux and Heather O’Neill talk about The Future and other things just the other night. So jealous! Should I move in with her? I’m thinking, maybe… lol
There doesn’t seem to be a huge demand for the Canada Reads books up here, but after I borrowed this copy, two people got onto the hold list, so I’ll have to read quickly now (not a problem with this kind of writing). In my feed, I think I saw a link to be able to view that discussion digitally, but maybe not? So maybe you will actually need to move farther west after all! heheh There’s been a lot of publicity for The Future so far, since its selection anyway. I’ve reviewed it for prism, so I hope it gets through production before the event airs.
Unfamiliar names – I’m thinking Icelandic and German here of course – are a challenge for readers aren’t they. Firstly, when you are reading them it’s often hard to remember who’s who, and then when you go to talk about the book you realise you can’t pronounce them because you haven’t really been hearing them in your head. I’m finding too now that for some reason I’m not concentrating so much on the spelling in the way I used to.
You have a lot of books here and I can’t comment on them all in this cooment but I’ve been surprised to see James Mc Bride starting to pop up. I read him before blogging and haven’t heard of him for years. Is he worth chasing?
That’s true, I often find myself almost slipping across the nouns and then I catch myself, force a finger to run beneath and sound out those clusters of consonants, mutter them a few times to myself. It’s harder to concentrate on spelling in other languages, too, I think, when they’re unfamiliar. We rely on repeating patterns with language and here we have to toss that comfort to the winds.
I’m not far enough in this one to comment, but Emma loved it and it’s been reviewed positively, maybe someone else will pipe up here. He’s a career writer and I think he strikes a remarkable balance between entertainment and political commentary, fuelled by deep compassion. I think his first book was a memoir about his mother and the language was quite striking even then; that might be the one you read early on. (Appreciate that you’ve born the brunt of digital finaggling to leave these comments: I know it’s annoying.)
I’ve a proof of Your Absence is Darkness sitting on my shelves but haven’t tackled it yet and I already have an eye on the McBride which sounds like it might be a much needed feel good read.
It lingered for awhile here, too: it just has a look of seriousness about it, eh?
I don’t think I’ve come across any of these, so it’s interesting to hear how you got to them. I’ve read Jón Kalman Stefánsson’s trilogy, the name of which escapes me, but it some of the individual books were in the running for the Independent Foreign Fiction Prize (before it joined forces with the Booker International). As you say, his prose is beautiful.
You might recognise the covers of the bottom two if these weren’t large print editions but, then again, one of those being Canadian suggests that might not help either. I really want to read that trilogy now, too; I’m not sure how it’s referred to here, either. Or, even, whether it’s linked by more than theme? I’ll have a look for your posts when I’m done reading this one.
I recommended Golden Child to you 🙂 But others may have as well! Thanks for featuring your library reads. I know they are always a major element of your stacks whether you specifically say so or not. I know what you mean about McAdam; I read his A Beautiful Truth and that was similarly challenging for the theme of scientific testing on chimps.
There is so much overlap between our voracious reading habits, that I should really just message you every time I’m in this situation of wondering and say “Was that you?” and it likely was. Hehehe We might have talked about it when we were each reading Love after Love? We’ll see if I can remember the last Monday of each month as the year unspools. Maybe. Ooof, that was a beautiful story. I think you’d find the echoes of it, in this new novel, curious to recognise-how they shift, how they remain intact-but it’s harder to read, IMO, too.