My reading this year has a different rhythm. Some year-long projects require only a few pages of reading each week, a chapter maybe. In contrast, reading for work requires bursting through backlists in a week or two. In between, some books have sprawled in that territory between lackadaisical and fevered reading habits.
The single book which has taken me longer to read than any other this year (yet) is Jón Kalman Stefánsson’s Your Absence is Darkness (Philip Roughton’s 2024 translation of the 2020 Icelandic novel).
Some evenings I would put all the other books away, determined to spend hours with it, but after twenty pages I was full. The number of notes I took could have been a novel for another, shorter-winded author. The number of searches for songs, philosophers, maps, and poets unparalleled. (One character has a playlist, with dozens of songs!) The number of times I flipped to reread a section, to confirm a relationship or a timeline detail. It all added up to an amazing (but exhausting) reading experience.
Kierkegaard emerges early in this novel, when a character, who cannot remember who he is, searches for his identity, and Kierkegaard’s The Concept of Anxiety also surfaces in Walter Mosley’s third Leonid McGill mystery.
When the Thrill Is Gone (2011) I borrowed partly because last year I read more genre fiction than I had recently and really enjoyed it—here in 2010 is some discussion about how Mosley views this question of literary/genre fiction and his idea of an umbrella to cover both terms—and partly because it’s been awhile since I finished a series. McGill has a poet’s eye in a boxer’s body, so he’s entertaining and the story’s engaging. He’s also busy making up for wrong he’s done in the past, so there’s a sense of justice percolating.
I’ve also enjoyed Mosley’s short stories and his love of New York City; Amor Towles’ debut Rules of Civility (2011) captures intersections and routes, soundscapes and views in the city, too.
Whether on the subway or in fancy restaurants, whether past or present, his characters fully inhabit NYC. (Towles’ new collection of stories is published this week, with a novella that continues the story of one of the characters from Rules,) He does pay attention to class. “It seemed like very country in the world had stamps of statesmen and motorcars. Where were the stamps of the elevator boys and hapless housewives? Of the six-story walk-ups and soured wine?” He’s no Jess Walter, but I thoroughly enjoyed his debut for some of the same reasons I loved Walter’s Beautiful Ruins.
I also love lists, like that of appropriate behaviours and ethics in the back of Rules of Civility; it reminds me of the reproduction of handwritten documents in Staci Robinson’s authorized biography Tupac Shakur, like the opening with his handwritten biography, written in ink at 18.
There are songlists too, for demos and performances, and even if you’re not into rap or music history, Robinson’s biography brings the era to life and focuses on not only Tupac’s career, but his relationship with his mother and friendships that nourished him. (He and Jada Pinkett, for instance, were best friends from the time they were teenagers. There’s a handwritten copy of a poem he wrote for her back in the day too.) The commentary on his creative process and how his perspectives changed on political issues in the face of injustice all kept me interested throughout. But you know, from the start, he’s gunned down at twenty-five.
Another book that opens with the knowledge of a death, a story told in reverse, is Cynan Jones’ Stillicide (2019) which I borrowed to read for Paula’s 2024 Dewithon. He was born near Aberaeron, Ceredigion in western Wales and this is his seventh book. Unlike the other four volumes here, Jones’ is just a couple hundred pages, but it’s structured like a prose poem, and the setting and events quickly paralysed me. In an attempt to decipher my resistance, I browsed articles online (still fresh from Stefánsson’s research project) and read somewhere that his writing triggers a response without actually exposing the trigger, and that’s just how it felt. When I finally returned and reread, I found the tone not only sometimes funny (one character’s described “like he eats a lot of kale but not because he likes it”) but even inspiring: “A silverfish under a mat. A marigold established in the crack of a kerb. The belligerent will of a thing to exist. Give Nature space, and she will take it.”
Chris Turner’s How to Be a Climate Optimist (2022) lingered in my stack for weeks. Polarising optimism and pessimism as responses to the climate crisis is fruitless; Turner wants to present a perspective he views as underrepresented in the media, but let’s focus on action. In some ways, Turner does just that. And he does locate many instances of success, for instance the growing availability of solar power systems around the globe. Something he does very well is define and simplify technical terms and information, in single-page summaries interspersed through the book. And his tone is remarkably accessible, pulling readers through anecdotes in Australia and Germany, Silicon Valley and Fort Chipewyan, so that it feels like we’re travelling alongside, gradually accumulating an understanding that it’s clearly taken him years to acquire. His teardowns of other journalists’ approaches in this field is disappointing—there’s room for a variety of perspectives to problem-solving with the climate crisis—but it’s a worthwhile read.
Margaret Renkl’s The Comfort of Crows reminds me of the importance of looking and listening; it’s a balm for the soul and my current between-time read.
A lovely variety you have there. I’m behind with my reading of books, reading of blogs and writing of reviews!
It all takes time, the reading and the writing and the visiting and bookchatting: hard to manage the balance!
You take eclecticism to a whole new level — I’m sure Tupac Shakur has never before been seen alongside Amor Towles! My latest realistic climate read is Life After Doom by Brian McLaren, who I’ve often read on religious and spiritual matters but who takes a mostly secular approach here to developing resilience and community to cope with potential future scenarios.
Heheh It just happens! You know what these stacks are like! And Shakur was a big reader, actually. When he was young, one of his mother’s favourite punishments was that he had to sit and read the NYT aloud, and he maintained this habit voluntarily as an adult: with two papers, one still the Times and the second rotated through the major Cali newspapers.
Does the McLaren fit with Leroux’s The Future in an interesting way? My climate reading and learning was erratic last year, but I’m getting back on track.
I love your description of reading ‘territory between lackadaisical and fevered reading habits.’ I know that feeling and now I have a description for it!
I think it’s because I’ve often abandoned the year-long type of projects (usually for not having owned copies of the books), that this year the two extremes really make the middle-ground speed stand out!
I have fond memories of reading Rules of Civility not long after it came out, so it’s lovely to be reminded of it here. Your comment on Stillicide being structured like a prose poem is spot on. I recall listening to it on the radio (BBC Radio 4 serialised it a few years ago), and it worked well in that format!
There’s no good reason for having taken so long to read Rules; I enjoyed it all the way, but something about the prose style slowed me down. (And because I was slated to review the stories, I was looking ahead to reading his other two novels too, which should have been motivation to read more quickly.)
OOOooo, I might have sunk deep into the cushions if I’d been listening to that story; I bet it was even more haunting when performed. But I do want to read more of his work.
[…] Winter 2024, In My Reading Log – Buried in Print […]
Your reading overwhelms me. But I really don’t think it is possible to be a climate optimist, the melting of the Greenland and Antarctic ice sheets is underway and irreversible (even if the world wasn’t still increasing its production of CO2).
Four out of six of these are North American, so I can see where they’d be unfamiliar to most Australian readers and, as Rebecca mentions below, it’s an odd mix.
Sone aspects of his tone irk me too, but it’s interesting to have a different perspective on, say, the progress that China has made in certain areas (whereas western MSM regularly reports on the negative impact that some of their policies have environmentally) which is still part of the story.
I’ve yet to read Mosley’s McGill series, which is odd, because I continue to devour the Easy Rawlins ones as possible. I should check them out.
You’ve caught my attention with the Stefansson, who’s a new name for me.
He’s underread, don’t you think? It’s a pleasure to know you enjoy him too!
He seems right up your street! LMK when you’re ready to read and I will share the link to the Spotify playlist (I don’t subscribe to Spotify, so that’s not necessary for listening). It’s a real pleasure to have those songs as accompaniment…and what a diverse list it is!