In 2022 I decided to read fifty-seven books for my fifty-seventh year. That went better than expected and I slipped over the arbitrary line I had drawn for myself (here’s The List from 2022).
In 2023, I randomly picked ‘23’ as my target. A slower reading year so I could ramp up my writing. There were some re-reads, light reads, and a belated celebration of Cormac McCarthy in the year that he died. In total, I read 25 books, finishing with ‘Prophet Song’, a hard-hitting dystopian novel by Paul Lynch winner of the 2023 Booker Prize.
So, what of 2024?
I’m on a bit of a roll with the leisurely reading; first up I am joining
and a whole community of readers for a slow read of Wolf Hall. As an avowed ‘non-joiner-in’ of things, I’m genuinely excited at this new approach for me.In this final update of my reading year I have tagged authors who are also
"When I think of all the books still left for me to read, I am certain of further happiness"
Jules Renard
#24Books - The List
Slim and the Beast (
) - A really enjoyable start to the reading year with a tale of dark secrets, complex characters, and, ultimately, the redeeming power of friendship. At the heart of this story is the dialogue between two young men, as it explores what they are about, what life is about, and what it means to be a man. Beautifully written with what feels like an insider’s knowledge, which takes the reader to the eye of the storm.Cacophony of Bone (
) - There’s a risk that predetermined reading targets urge you forward, always reaching for the next book. Is there a word for wanting to slow it down; a word that says ‘I don’t want this to end’? I need that word more than ever. This is a stunning book that defies categorisation. There are nature notes, utterly beguiling observations on flora and fauna and ever-present moths, alongside a new life in rural Ireland at a time when our worlds were locked down into tight localities. It is also a memoir, viscerally raw at times, dreamlike at others. This is a book of hope and love, a story of recovery. As a reader, you cannot fail to be drawn into the emotion of the writing, generously - astonishingly - shared by an author whose soaring prose is like long-hand poetry. I just love the way it is structured. Beautiful words I expected. Brilliantly conceived white spaces, the thoughtful pauses they provide, and the lyricism they offer, are a delightful surprise. I wanted it to unfurl forever.A Thousand Mornings (Mary Oliver) - I always had a bit of a blocker on poetry. Is that a ‘school thing’? Dusty old English teachers forcing dusty old poetry upon recalcitrant youths. Maybe, Coleridge and Wordsworth defined poetry and so poetry wasn’t for me. But Mary Oliver. Now this is joy—words strung like fairy lights, in beautiful order and cadence. Simple moments are reflected in simple words. Gentle descriptions of life. Perfectly in tune with the author’s Instructions for Living a Life - “Pay Attention. Be Astonished. Tell About It”.
Landlines (Raynor Winn) - This is the third book by the celebrated author of ‘The Salt Path’. At the heart of Raynor Winn’s storytelling is a tale of hope as she and her husband Moth cling to improvements that appear in his health when they walk long distances. This is a touching story of the healing power of nature and the resolve it takes to (quite literally) put one foot in front of another. What simmers under the surface are the changes in landscapes and people wrought by the climate emergency and the post-pandemic mood. Raynor Winn finds words to reflect the changes they witness but also ideas that fuel hope and optimism.
A Year of Marvellous Ways (Sarah Winman) - This is a book of the stories within the story, a tale of the healing power of storytelling. Gentle, richly written, ‘Marvellous Ways’ intertwines Nature and human nature and the love in both. A book to slowly meander through, like the tidal waters around the Cornish community it celebrates.
The Requisitions (
) - Mighty writing. Powerful thinking and astonishing storytelling. Any book about the Nazi occupation of Poland must explore the depths of human cruelty but the necessarily hard-hitting sections are countered by hope and human kindness, as life is. The way historic and contemporary tales weave in and around one other is compelling; such an imaginative approach. Apart from a short pause at one stage to ‘take stock’, I raced through this outstanding book.Wolf Hall (Hilary Mantel) - A guided read with Simon Haisell. So, for a handful of weeks, I managed to stay disciplined, matching the slow-paced schedule set out by
and then the reality bit. This is a very tricky book to amble through. Thomas Cromwell, in Hilary Mantel’s hands, is a fascinating character, brought to vivid life as he manoeuvres into a position of influence in the Court of Henry VIII. I am no historian and I spent my school years railing against stale history lessons. If only there had been teaching like this; stories, intrigues, and beliefs all adding colour to a period that shaped England’s religious and international relationships for the centuries that followed. A beautifully written book, a compelling page-turner. It is a wonder that it has taken so long for me to give it a go.Auschwitz (Laurence Rees) - Not an easy read, but nor should it be. Inspired by ‘The Requisitions’, I was compelled to learn more about how human cruelty can somehow be woven into administrative normality. Rees weaves intellectual rigour around the toughest of stories. The individual episodes are necessary micro-examinations of the human impact of large-scale macro behaviours. Chilling reminders of a past we must fear becoming our present.
Nemesis (Jo Nesbo) - Hard-drinking police inspector Harry Hole is good at his job and increasingly troubled by life. When he finds himself implicated in a crime, he has to dig deep to try and claw his way out of trouble, using whatever means possible to prove his innocence.
In The Blink of an Eye (Jo Callaghan) - Crime novels often pair up investigators whose approaches differ; the challenges of police work are ramped up by the friction this creates. In this case, as young men begin to disappear and the links between the crimes look flimsy, an experienced police officer and her AI counterpart seek ways to work together. At stake is the future of policing. But right now, this crime is getting too close to home.
Not The End of the World (Christopher Brookmyre) - Brookmyre is a Scottish crime writer whose books lean heavily on dark humour and strong plot lines. This, his third novel, was the first to be set wholly outside Scotland, though a central character, Steff Kennedy, offers some familiarity for the writer and readers to lean on. Los Angeles becomes a melting pot of B-movie pedlars of low-grade filth, Christian fundamentalists, and a world-weary cop trying to solve a series of seemingly unrelated mysteries. A slow burner that gathered pace as the plot unfolded until it became quite the page-turner.
The Other Half (Charlotte Vassell) - there’s always a slight risk that these reading lists can turn into a collection of what the reader feels they should read; worthy tomes, literary classics, books that deal with the great modern dilemmas of the age. But what about curling up in bed at the end of the day with a cast of vacuous souls from the modern age of influencers and the over-wealthy? What about slicing in an interesting collection of police officers and several shady plotlines? This debut novel is a highly readable canter through a world we see as we doom scroll through our chosen social media feed, with a highly plausible ‘whodunnit’ at the heart of it. Great fun.
Past Lying (Val McDermid) - A ‘Tartan Noir’ offering from the so-called ‘Queen of Crime’, this is the first book set in COVID lockdown that I’ve read. The plot is clever enough; two writers, a manuscript that implicates a murderer, a family ripped apart by the disappearance of their daughter, an aspiring novelist. For the Historic Crimes Unit, all the clues are laid out for them, but is everything as it appears, or as it is meant to appear? The lockdown elements jar a little, as though the author was trying a little too hard to catalogue them. Overall, pretty standard fare.
Killing Moon (Jo Nesbo) - The latest Harry Hole thriller ramps up the gruesomeness of the plot and the darkness of the character at the heart of it. Hole is no longer in the police force but he is brought in as a private investigator by a wealthy man with dark secrets he would rather keep buried. This is such a well-written tale with plotlines twisting here, there and everywhere but the threads are always woven around Harry Hole, who is one drink away from tumbling into the abyss, one misstep away from failing in his desperate race against time.
To Have and Have Not (Ernest Hemingway) - This is my first taste of Hemingway. It feels to me that his writing is a lot like Harry Morgan, the hard-drinking, risk-taking protagonist at the heart of this tale. The writing is raw, uncompromising, straight-to-the-point, and very much ‘of the time’. This is rum-soaked Cuba, with more than a hint of revolution in the onshore breeze. Money talks and every chancer is aiming to get their cut, Harry too. To make the big bucks, you’ve got to risk that little bit more. All or nothing.
Baumgartner (Paul Auster) - I found this to be a perplexing read. It was one of those books that I wanted to be so much better than it turned out to be (for me). The opening chapter had been published as a short story in Harper’s and it lured me in with the richness of its language and the brilliantly observed details brought to life through the eye of the central protagonist (Baumgartner). Central themes of grief and memory are - at times - gently explored but elsewhere it feels clunky, and some sections are plain clumsy in the way they conveniently move the plot on. I say ‘plot’ but it is all a bit meandering for me, and the ending was especially unsatisfactory. Glimpses of extraordinary writing wrapped in a confusingly ordinary tale.
A Heart Full of Headstones (Ian Rankin) - A lucky find in a French boit des livre, one of the lovely community touches you find in small villages, I am a sucker for John Rebus and his dark, complex policing. Though, strictly speaking, not ‘policing’ as he is retired and subject to internal investigation as the past catches up with those who sailed close to the wind. Reassuringly character-led writing by the master of Scottish crime.
Icebreaker - A Journey Far North (Horatio Clare) - at one level, this is a fun travelogue, brimful of fascinating Finnish characters and life aboard an icebreaker that keeps the shipping channels open. But dig deeper and this is a book about a proud nation forming a modern identity and purpose. More than that, it is a warning about environmental disaster as changing ice conditions offer stark reminders of irreversible change.
Bones of the Hills (Conn Iggulden) - A secondhand copy that could be passed on when finished, a page-turner of a novel with a sweeping narrative and all the brutality of life among Genghis Khan’s all-conquering hordes. The perfect choice for a road trip by bike.
Demon Copperhead (Barbara Kingsolver) - I avowedly ignore books that catch the critics’ eye, or which make it to celebrity book club lists. Until I cannot. And then I wonder what took me so long. The richness of the language and plausibility of the storytelling draws you in as you follow young Demon on life’s path, one that feels peppered with potholes. And yet you keep following, a few steps behind. This is a compelling insight into the dark underbelly of poverty and addiction in the neglected communities of the US. Dark, yet hopeful. Unbearable but uplifting. Astonishing writing.
Me Talk Pretty One Day (David Sedaris) - I hadn’t come across the wit and sharp observations of David Sedaris until we were gifted this book by a house guest. Perhaps that’s the best way to discover new (to us) writers. Several laugh-out-loud moments in every chapter as the author navigates life through wry, self-deprecating observations. His new life in France, especially learning French with an unforgiving teacher, his hilariously rich ground to harvest.
Eating Eternity (
) - The author very kindly gifted us a copy of this fascinating collection of short readable chapters weaving food history with art and literature references to paint vivid pictures of the role of food in French life (and the lives of visitors to France). The perfect book to snack on through the day.More Than This (Patrick Ness) - Genres and categories of books can often exclude potential readers. An inner voice might say ‘That’s not for me’ or the gatekeepers decide what is what. So what to make of (so-called) ‘young adult’ book ‘More Than This’? I judge it as I find it. Brilliantly conceived, imaginative, and superbly written, it is a book for all readers. And writers. The pacing is perfect. The spareness of the language makes the characters believable and the dialogue feels natural and unforced. The underlying sense of threat is tangible. The imagined world feels all too plausible. A master craftsman at the top of his game, writing highly readable books.
Toast (Nigel Slater) - British food writer Nigel Slater is a borderline National Treasure. This is a revelatory biography, at times whimsical and witty, at others dark and disturbing. But the quality of the author’s writing shines through, especially in the childish glee in the descriptions of favourite dishes and the relish with which he devours them. He spares no one and nothing the sharpness of his observations. The little vignettes make it the perfect bedside table read to ‘snack on’. Like a pile of buttered toast slices.
10 Minutes 38 Seconds in This Strange World (
) - After my first taste, I am already seeking out my next Elif Shafak novel. This is a hugely imaginative, stunningly beautiful, and touchingly emotional tale. From the harsh and brutal consequences of life in a culture where women are chattels, love and friendship are the threads that weave sense into societal constraints and prejudices. This is writing so good it makes you question your command of language. Amidst a cast of distinctive, relatable characters, the complex city of Istanbul is the star of the show. You are plunged headlong into its labyrinthine heart.When God Was A Rabbit (Sarah Winman) - Shared memories bind the lives of brother and sister - Joe and Elly - together, lives intertwined even when distance separates. This is beautifully written, with characters sliding off the page and into your life as their lives unfold. Emotions, surfaced and suppressed, add deep layers to the events that shape the journey from childhood to messy adulthood. Touching, poignant, tear-inducing.
Small Things Like These (Claire Keegan) - What a stunner. Only 110 pages, lots of white space showing amidst the large typeface … and yet, dense, tightly written, atmospheric … claustrophobic. Suggestive, not explicit; show not tell. This is Ireland brimful of secrets and whispers, where there are things to be said and things to keep quiet about. But this is a place where things once seen cannot be unseen. Compelling. I don’t think I breathed all the time I was reading it.
Sorrow and Bliss (Meg Mason) - it seems to me that there is a special skill in being able to write a novel that is both touching and funny, sensitive but light of touch. ‘Sorrow and Bliss’ has, at its heart, mental illness - though the condition remains unnamed and unspecific so, I suspect, the reader can focus instead on the story of Martha. This is a love story but one where self-sabotage picks at the threads of it, dimming patience and exhausting the protagonists. The writing is sharply observed and full of wit, even (especially) when the moments are darker. Martha is a self-aware and funny narrator. The author’s observation skills are enviable. A fascinating, insightful read.
Into the Tangled Bank (
) - I sometimes struggle with ‘learny’ books, non-fiction that has something to teach. Imagine being 59 years old and still rebelling against actual learning?! How relieved I was, therefore, to discover that this is a book about fun … it is about immersion in nature; it is a book about curiosity and experience. Witty, accessible and also full of facts (fun facts, easy-to-absorb, interesting stuff). Lev Parikian is an enthusiast and the world needs as many of those as we can find. Perhaps it helps that we live a rural life, one that has immersed us at the heart of birdsong and close encounters with deer, moles and insects of every hue. But this book (re)taught me that it is okay to look closer, to pick up the details, and to relish the natural world.The Marriage Portrait (Maggie O’Farrell) - Renaissance Italy is the setting for more beautiful, heartrending writing from the author of ‘Hamnet’ (the only book I can remember that made me cry). Rich language, assiduous attention to the details of life and love, and fascinating characters draw you into a world of beauty and brutality, a world where a woman’s (a young girl’s) role is to produce an heir. This is a world where the individual is swallowed up by traditions, loyalty and family obligations. Touching, thrilling and tense to the last page.
Klara and the Sun (Kazuo Ishiguro) - I promised myself a (very rare) second go at this acclaimed novel because first-time-around it didn’t ‘sing’ to me. In a future world where genetic adjustments to promote academic prowess lead to isolation, a gap filled by artificial intelligence. I was struck by the gap between the information and data AI acquires with a corresponding (stark) lack of knowledge and worldliness. Ishiguro seems to have cut to the heart of a dilemma (in a book published in 2021 … a prescient work). At the heart of the tale, though, is the tenderness of love, a characteristic invested in the artificial friend as much as
more thanthe humans. Much more enjoyable on a second read.Slow Trains to Istanbul (Tom Chesshyre) - We have a long train journey planned. When I say ‘planned’, I mean that the interrail tickets are bought and a world of possibility unfolds before us. And when I say ‘journey’, I mean several journeys all strung together to make an adventure. This book is part inspiration and part homework. Tom Chesshyre travels for a living and writes about it for magazines and newspapers. His writing is super-accessible and his eye for detail is fantastic. I would have loved more reflections about travel and what he learned of the world as he roamed through it but this book is more focused on practicalities and the purposeful covering of miles. That doesn’t make it a bad book, far from it … it rattles along like trains on tracks and I shall be going back through it to note where the ticket booth is at a small Istanbul railway station and where to snack in Sofia. Travel writing for folk who are making their own plans.
Thanks Barrie. I can't get my head around how many people are joining us. But I love these books so much, and I hope you will too!
Oh many titles I’ve never heard of here! I’m currently also on the wolf hall train ✨ on the side I’m trying to read my way through my huge unread pile - it’s kinda of exciting discovering what is on my own shelves