Reading Year in Review & 2020 Goals

As we start to turn our attention to the year ahead, there’s one last opportunity to look back on 2019. I’m going to take stock of how I got on with my reading goals, reflect on my reading year in general, and set some new goals for 2020 accordingly.

• My first goal for 2019 was to read 100 books. Having read 124, this one gets a tick.
• My second goal was to read more non-fiction. I read 9 non-fiction books in 2018, and upped this to 10 in 2019 (12 if you count a couple of graphic memoirs). It’s a tentative success, but a step in the right direction nonetheless.
• My third goal was to read more plays. I did not read a single one. Epic fail.
• My fourth goal was to read more Daphne du Maurier. I read one of her novels in 2019, so we’ll call this one a very soft victory.
• My final goal was to keep mood reading. This one is hard to quantify. I’d say I managed it fairly well, though committing to a book prize longlist and a month’s worth of translated lit did throw a bit of a spanner in the works in terms of avoiding TBRs and going with the flow.

That brings me on to a couple of supplementary goals I added as the year went on. Alongside an excellent group of blogging friends, I decided to read the entire longlist for the Women’s Prize for Fiction. It was something that had been on my bookish bucket list for a while, and though we arguably didn’t pick the best year to do it, I’m really glad to say I managed to read and review the entire selection before the shortlist/winner was announced.

August is women in translation month. At the very last minute, I decided to read only books that would fall into that category for the whole of the month. Again, I’m glad I did this, and it pushed me to pick up some excellent reads I may otherwise not have prioritised.

Taking a more general look at my reading year, I would describe it as fairly… meh? It certainly wasn’t a bad year for books; I read 124 of them, gave an average rating of 3.5 stars, and certainly uncovered some gems – the best of which I talked about here. I suppose the reason I feel somewhat underwhelmed is that, despite reading lots of great books throughout the year, I didn’t find any new all-time favourites. I know we can’t expect to do so every year, but still, we can’t help but hope.

I never do or don’t read a book based on the author’s gender, but I decided to analyse my reading based on authorship purely out of interest. It showed that I’ve been reading far more books by women than men (which I’m more than happy with), but it also highlighted an obvious lack of books by non-binary authors on my shelves (recommendations to help with this are very welcome!).

I then decided to break down my 2019 reading based on form. I wasn’t at all surprised to see that novels are my book of choice, but I am sad to see that poetry largely fell by the wayside. That’s something I’d like to address moving forward.

As for 2020 goals, I’m going to keep it pretty simple:

• Read 100 books. It’s a solid number that will help me make a dent in my TBR without feeling too daunting.
• Read more poetry. I touched on this already, but I’d definitely like to start reaching for poetry more often again.
• Do more buddy reads. I read and chatted about a few past Women’s Prize winners with the same group of aforementioned friends in 2019, and I’m hoping we’ll pick up a few more this year.
• Keep reading translated lit. English language literature dominates the market, and it’s sad to think about how many amazing books fly under the radar as a result. I read 17 translated books in 2019 (2 of which made my top 10 of the year), and I’d love if I could match or better that number in 2020.
• Pick up my ‘Spotlight’ and ‘Let’s Recommend’ series. This is about blogging more than reading, but a bookish goal nonetheless. I’ve been reviewing everything I read on Goodreads for ages, but 2019 was the first time I reviewed everything in full on this blog, rather than just in monthly wrap ups. I’m so glad I made that switch, but it did mean a few of my previous blog series fell by the wayside a little. In particular, I’d like to do a few more spotlights and themed recommendation posts in 2020.

That’s it for specifics at the moment. I may commit to reading the Women’s Prize longlist again, and I may commit to reading only women in translation in August again. But in the spirit of embracing mood reading, I’ll see how I feel about both of those tentative goals nearer the time.

I’ll end this post as I always end my reading year in review; by bringing together every book I read throughout the past 12 months. If any covers/titles catch your eye, feel free to ask about them. In the meantime, happy reading, and all the best for 2020!

The books I read in January

The books I read in February

The books I read in March

The books I read in April

The books I read in May

The books I read in June

The books I read in July

The books I read in August

The books I read in September

The books I read in October

The books I read in November

The books I read in December

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There we have it! Did you have a good reading year in 2019? What are your goals for 2020?

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December Wrap Up

The books I read in December

We’ve just got time to squeeze one more wrap up out of the year before we head into 2020. I read 9 books throughout December, bringing my total number of reads for 2019 up to 124. Here are some brief thoughts on each of them, with links to my full reviews if you’d like to know more.

Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead by Olga Tokarczuk

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] The thriller-esque framing of this unconventional novel about a woman at odds with her community – convinced that animals are murdering people – didn’t quite work for me. The obvious nature of whodunnit (and why) led to a climax and payoff that sadly underwhelmed. On the other hand, I very much enjoyed its strong evocation of setting and atmosphere, the singular narrative voice, and its themes of animal welfare, fate versus free will, the line between defiance and madness, the lamentations of life in an aging body, and society’s dismissal of women.

The Tiger’s Wife by Téa Obreht

[ ⭐ ⭐ ] I was left feeling frustratingly apathetic towards this. Whilst I enjoyed the striking imagery, decent prose, and interesting ideas, I was held at too much of a distance by the disjointed narrative structure, heavy use of magical realism, and lack of closure.

Twas the Nightshift Before Christmas by Adam Kay

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] The real-life diaries of a former doctor, kept during the 7 consecutive festive periods he worked within the NHS. Kay’s trademark sarcasm brings much-needed levity to what could otherwise be a very upsetting read. With equal poignancy and humour, he highlights the level of personal sacrifice required to work as a junior doctor in times of budget cuts and unfathomable hours; reminding us all why we cannot afford to take frontline staff for granted.

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire by J.K. Rowling (illustrated by Jim Kay)

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] It’s always a nostalgic delight to revisit the wizarding world, flaws and all – especially at this time of year. Kay’s stunning illustrations add another layer of immersion, making this re-read feel both fresh and familiar all at once. I’ve always loved that Prisoner of Azkaban represented a turning point in the overall tone of the series, whilst Voldemort’s return in Goblet of Fire served as an equivalent turning point in the narrative.

Miss Marley by Vanessa Lafaye

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] This prequel to Dickens’ A Christmas Carol chronicles the downfall of Scrooge’s business partner, Jacob Marley, told from the perspective of his sister, Clara. It builds on key themes from the original (like fate versus free will, and the trappings of poverty), whilst also touching on historical female agency. Poignant and charming, this is a very successful tie-in novel that pays homage to the source material, enhancing rather than diminishing its legacy.

The Christmasaurus and the Winter Witch by Tom Fletcher

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] As with its predecessor, this is full of fun, festive loveliness. It touches on some good themes without ever distracting from the magic or adventure of the narrative. Christmas joy for any age.

The Snow Queen by Hans Christian Andersen

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] This isn’t my favourite of Andersen’s fairy tales, but there is some memorable imagery, and I like that it’s the boy who is helpless and the girl who gets to save the day. This particular edition is greatly enhanced by Sanna Annukka’s gorgeous illustrations.

Wenceslas by Carol Ann Duffy

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] This festive poem from Duffy reminds us to extend the hand of human kindness to those less fortunate than ourselves. I love this sentiment, and think Stuart Kolakovic’s accompanying artwork is beautiful, but the poem itself (in terms of language, structure, flow, etc.) didn’t do a huge amount for me.

Waves by Ingrid Chabbert & Carole Maurel, translated from the French by Edward Gauvin

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] A suitably poignant look at parental grief, this graphic novel cleverly uses colour as a visual representation of loss and the journey to rekindle hope. It also has fantastic normalized queer representation, with the two women at the heart of the story never presented as anything other than a normal, loving couple.

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There we have it! My favourite new reads of the month were Miss Marley and Waves, but I also loved revisiting Harry Potter. What was your favourite pick for December?

Here’s hoping we all have a wonderful reading year in 2020.

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Top Reads of 2019

Having read 123 books so far in 2019, and loving many of them, it wouldn’t be fair to say I had a bad reading year. On the other hand, putting together a list of favourites didn’t come as naturally as in previous years. That said, I still want to highlight those that did eventually rise to the top of the pile. Some stood out as contenders very quickly, whilst others quietly improved the more time I took to mull them over. I’ll give a quick shout-out to some honourable mentions – A Spell of Winter by Helen Dunmore, A Girl is a Half-formed Thing by Eimear McBride, What Red Was by Rosie Price, The Pisces by Melissa Broder, and The Best Awful by Carrie Fisher. But without further ado, here are my top 10 reads of 2019:

10. The White Book by Han Kang

I’m kicking the list off with a fairly unexpected pick. The White Book is a little more experimental than my usual favourites, but something about its singular pathos and stunning prose has really stayed with me. Masterfully translated from the Korean by Deborah Smith, the book is part novel, part memoir, part prose poetry collection; presented as a series of vignettes that ruminate on the role language plays in navigating grief and pain. I was moved and compelled as I read it, and it has continued to haunt my thoughts ever since, more than earning a place within my top 10.

Find out more or pick up a copy here.

9. Liar by Ayelet Gundar-Goshen

At once a searing social commentary and a gripping page-turner, Liar explores the ease with which our words can take on a life of their own, and our moral responsibility to honour the truth, when a 17-year-old girl falsely accuses a celebrity of sexual assault. The strength of the book is in its characters, all of which are complex, flawed, and believable. The heady atmosphere and genuine stress-inducing tension are palpable, with Gundar-Goshen able to explore a hugely controversial topic without ever undermining the validity of genuine assault accusations. It’s as intelligent as it is readable, and it made me incredibly excited to explore more of the author’s work.

Find out more or pick up a copy here.

8. Frankissstein by Jeanette Winterson

Anything with intelligent thematic and narrative parallels with one of my favourite novels is always going to get me excited, and I’m so pleased that this riff on Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein did not disappoint. The book follows the real-life creation of Shelley’s masterpiece in 1818, and a group of fictional characters in modern-day Brexit Britain; the contrast between past and present allowing Winterson to comment on our timeless obsession with the nature of life and death, as well as changing attitudes towards gender roles, sexuality, identity, and the relationship between AI and human beings. At once a biting political satire and a love letter to a creative genius, this offers a truly singular reading experience.

Find out more or pick up a copy here.

7. The Chrysalids by John Wyndham

Congratulations to John Wyndham for bring the only man you will find on this list. That wasn’t deliberate, but I’m not mad about it either. The Chrysalids is at once a gripping post-apocalyptic tale about society’s struggle to deal with the genetic fallout of a nuclear disaster, and a skilfully crafted allegory about the hypocrisy of intolerance and othering. Written well over 60 years ago, it’s remarkable how strongly its themes still resonate; nor has the narrative lost its ability to thrill and captivate.

Find out more or pick up a copy here.

6. Normal People by Sally Rooney

This is a quiet powerhouse of a novel. Shrewdly observant to the point of feeling almost voyeuristic, we follow Connell and Marianne as they attempt to navigate the complexities of life, and to make sense of their feelings for one another. The anxiety of young love, the reality of modern-day class divides, the bewilderment of trying to move between social circles, and the pain of miscommunication are all skilfully explored in understated prose that belies Rooney’s keen perception of human nature.

Find out more or pick up a copy here.

5. The Last by Hanna Jameson

On paper, an apocalyptic-nuclear-survival-story-meets-murder-mystery-meets-social-and-political-commentary shouldn’t work. Somehow, Hanna Jameson pulls it off, resulting in one of the most enjoyable reading experiences I had in 2019. The reason this book can be so many things at once and still work as a cohesive whole is that Jameson gives equal attention to each aspect of the complex narrative. Though this is an utterly engrossing, page-turning read, there is so much depth to examine. I was floored that a book this gripping and fun to read could also have so much to say, with Jameson commenting on everything from women’s reproductive rights to racial tensions, and from victim blaming to political unrest, all within the framing of a thrilling survival story that against all the odds, also manages to pay homage to the golden era of crime.

Find out more or pick up a copy here.

4. The Wildlands by Abby Geni

For the second year running, Geni takes a spot in my top 5. In The Wildlands, we follow four orphaned siblings torn apart by the only brother’s involvement in an extreme act of eco-terrorism. The characters are all distinct and richly drawn; complex, flawed, and utterly believable. There is brilliantly nuanced commentary throughout on the pervasive quality of toxic masculinity, the dichotomy between action and intention, and the way we use storytelling to protect ourselves from the truth. The prose is lovely without ever feeling overdone, and I was consistently enthralled. It’s a powerful look at the bond of siblings; a searing critique of man’s false sense of power over nature; and an exploration of the animal instincts in all of us which can push us to lash out when we no longer understand our place in the world, but also to protect the ones we love.

Find out more or pick up a copy here.

3. Wilder Girls by Rory Power

My experience with Power’s feminist, sci-fi, horror debut was another prime example of picking up the right book at precisely the right time. Wilder Girls is set within an all-girls school on an isolated island which has been put under strict quarantine following the outbreak of a strange new disease that causes mutations within the resident flora and fauna – including the girls themselves. The imagery throughout is haunting, the girls’ fear about what’s happening to them mirrored in their struggles to survive day-to-day. Beyond its exhilarating narrative, the book is elevated by its look at sisterhood, its excellent implementation of normalised queer representation, and its references to society’s weaponization of girls’ bodies, and our assault on the planet. The critic in me can recognise that this book isn’t perfect, but I loved every second I spent with it, and in a reading year that felt largely mediocre, there’s a lot to be said for surrendering yourself to a damn good read.

Find out more or pick up a copy here.

2. My Name is Monster by Katie Hale

Katie Hale’s debut is a thematically complex take on post-apocalyptic fiction that explores the notions of survival, belonging, the enduring influence of societal roles, and the complexities of motherhood. Our heroine is a former research scientist who emerges from an arctic vault, believing herself to be the last human on Earth. Having reverted to animalistic instincts in order to get by, she is forced to redress the balance between surviving and truly living when she finds and takes in a feral young girl. As with another book on this list, My Name is Monster draws on themes and ideas established in Frankenstein. Chiefly, the dynamic between creator and creation, and the wonder of language. A more radical narrative departure than Winterson’s Frankissstein, however, the futuristic setting allows Hale to incorporate some fantastic worldbuilding, while the gender reversal leads to some fascinating commentary on the threat that motherhood poses to a woman’s individual identity, as well as the danger of trying to forge offspring in your own image.

Find out more or pick up a copy here.

1. House of Glass by Susan Fletcher

House of Glass is at once a beguiling gothic mystery, and a poignant piece of historical fiction that examines the devastating ways in which women’s lives were ruled by scandal, rumour, and reputation. In many ways, it’s a book about opposites; of truth versus lies, logic versus faith, and reality versus the supernatural, when a young woman is summoned to establish a glasshouse in the grounds of a manor gripped by whispers of a haunting. House of Glass takes my top spot as it easily embodies almost all of the qualities I look for in my perfect read: An immersive setting, a compelling heroine, brooding intrigue, well established supporting characters, a page-turning plot, nuanced themes, and rich, evocative prose. It was exactly what I needed when I picked it up, and I continue to look back on it with nothing but fondness.

Find out more or pick up a copy here.

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There we have it! If there’s a main takeaway from this list, it’s that I need to reach for post-apocalyptic fiction more often, as it’s the genre most strongly represented here, and therefore one that clearly works for me when it’s handled well. There are lots of books that I’m excited to get to in 2020, so here’s hoping we all discover lots of new favourites!

What was your top read of 2019?

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November Wrap Up

The books I read in November

There’s time for one more wrap up before the festivities hit full swing. Throughout November, I read 10 books, bringing my total for the year so far up to 115. Here are some brief thoughts on each of them, with links to my full reviews if you’d like to know more.

1.  Another Day in the Death of America by Gary Younge

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] Younge examines the epidemic of gun violence in America, particularly at the intersection of race and inequality. By humanising the victims normally reduced to mind-numbing statistics (by presenting us with case studies of 10 young casualties who were all killed on the same random day), he lays bare the extent of the problem and why drastic change is so necessary.

2. In the Cave of the Delicate Singers by Lucy Taylor

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] There’s some untapped potential in this unsettling story about a one-woman rescue mission in a mysterious cave, but the haunting imagery really lingers in the mind. The atmosphere is suitably claustrophobic, and I enjoyed the casual queer rep.

3. Blood Bath: The Bodies Issue, edited by Katy Lennon

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] Images and ideas throughout the works featured in this lit mag were suitably haunting, but with a strong emphasis on surrealism, I would have preferred a little more grounding to help drive home the thematic implications of the horrors on show. More than worth it for the couple of standout gems.

4. Mary Toft; or The Rabbit Queen by Dexter Palmer

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] Review to come for BookBrowse.

5. Exquisite Cadavers by Meena Kandasamy

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] This experimental novella is at once the story of a young couple attempting to navigate growing tensions within their home and across the globe, and a look at the wider context of the author’s life and musings throughout the book’s creation. The craftsmanship is fantastic, with stunning use of language, but I found the reading experience too fragmented to feel invested.

6. My Name is Monster by Katie Hale

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] The heroine of this post-apocalyptic survival story believes she is the last human on Earth, and so she must readjust her entire way of life when she finds and takes in a feral young girl. Riffing on many of the themes and ideas established in Frankenstein, the novel looks at identity, belonging, the enduring nature of societal roles, creator versus creation, and surviving versus truly living. The world-building is handled incredibly well, and I found the whole thing intelligent, nuanced, and compelling.

7. The Break by Katherena Vermette

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] When a teenage girl is brutally attacked, her extended family of Métis women rally to her side. An intergeneration domestic saga, I enjoyed its look at identity, community, inheritance, the shared process of healing, and the socioeconomic conditions that can push women to turn on each other. The many perspectives lacked enough definition, however, meaning I struggled to place the large cast of characters within the wider context of the family. Still, this is a solid novel, and I can see why it attracted such glowing reviews.

8. The Forester’s Daughter by Claire Keegan

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] Tension brews within an Irish family as long-held secrets rise to the fore. There’s a fable-esque quality to this brief tale which makes its inevitable tragedy and off-kilter semblance of hope all the more impactful.

9. A Keeper by Graham Norton

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] Though things became a little convoluted towards the end, Norton can certainly weave a good yarn. This story about a woman delving into her deceased mother’s past eked out twists at a great pace, and I enjoyed its look at the depth of parental love, the pressures of society, the pain of living with secrets, and the idea of inheritance across generations.

10. The Ghost, The Owl by Franco, illustrated by Sara Richard

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] The story in this whimsical graphic novel felt a little rushed, but I enjoyed the overall sentiment about overcoming our differences so we can stand together against injustice. Sara Richard’s accompanying artwork was stunning, and definitely the book’s highlight.

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There we have it! My favourite read of the month was My Name is Monster. What was yours?

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October Wrap Up

The books I read in October

Time for another wrap up! I finished 11 books throughout October, bringing my total for the year so far up to 105. This exceeds my 100 book target, so that’s nice. Here are some brief thoughts on each of the books I picked up this month (many of which had a spooky or gothic tone, per the season). I’ve linked to my full reviews if you’d like to know more about any of the books mentioned.

The Wall by John Lanchester

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] Solid and very readable, this dystopian book’s greatest flaw for me was simply how overly topical it was. By pitching its themes and narrative benchmarks so firmly in the present day (rising seas, closed borders, anti-immigration rhetoric, et al.), it fails to offer a new perspective on well worn themes. I can’t deny that I remained invested throughout, however, with interesting use of pacing and effective commentary on inter-generational tensions with regards to climate change and politics.

The Mist by Stephen King

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] Despite this novella’s brevity in comparison to most of King’s other best-known works, he manages to create a tangible tension. As with my favourite works in this genre, the threat from fellow humans proves as deadly as that from the strange creatures that lurk within the eponymous mist. Leaving much of the horror to our imagination, it’s a taut, swift, and evocative read.

The Deathless Girls by Kiran Millwood Hargrave

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] Exploring the origins of the Brides of Dracula, this book pays heavy homage to the gothic genre. It Looks at the concepts of fear and othering, and I was pleased with the way the author handled the character of Dracula himself. Though it dipped into melodrama at times, it was a consistently gripping and atmospheric read.

Dark Warm Heart by Rich Larson

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] Decent tension and intrigue build towards an ending that is unsettling in its implications, if a little too understated to fully drive home the horror. There is, however, a good emphasis on the characters for such a brief tale, and a couple of moments that stand out visually.

Breaking and Mending by Joanna Cannon

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] This anecdotal memoir explores Cannon’s time as a junior doctor. Her style is gentle and approachable, but she never shies away from how devastating life as a doctor (and a patient) can be. The book’s purpose is to humanize the staff of the NHS, to encourage open dialogue about the burnout that comes with the job, and to highlight the importance of implementing better support systems for those that give so much in exchange for so little.

Things We Say in the Dark by Kirsty Logan

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] Some of the striking imagery throughout this collection of feminist horror stories is sure to linger in the mind for quite some time. Exploring domestic, contemporary fears by spinning them into hypnotically claustrophobic fever dreams, there are a few absolute gems in here, but many of the 20 stories began to blur together, meaning it’s a collection I’ll remember more for its overall tone than I will for its specific plots and characters.

You Should Have Left by Daniel Kehlmann

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] This unsettling and surprisingly provocative little tale takes many conventions of the haunted house narrative, throws in some genuinely chilling moments, and elevates it all by adding some clever though subtle allegory about artistic integrity and the pressures of parenthood.

The Greatcoat by Helen Dunmore

[ ⭐ ⭐ ] Though this is billed as a ghost story, it would be better described as a paranormal romance that explores the concept of the past haunting people and places. Though there was little directly wrong with the book, I found it all very inoffensive, and the shortfall between expectation and reality left me feeling largely apathetic.

Glass, Snow, Apples by Neil Gaiman & Colleen Doran

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] This graphic novel reimagines the story of Snow White, by posing the following questions: What if everything Snow White told us about the ‘wicked queen’ was a lie? What if she was the evil one all along, and the queen was only ever trying to rid the world of a terrible evil? I loved the balance of darkness and poignancy in this one, and Doran’s gorgeous, ornate artwork really enhanced its impact.

Wilder Girls by Rory Power

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] This feminist, queer, sci-fi, horror debut follows the students of an all-girls school that is quarantined following the breakout of a strange disease that causes painful mutations. The imagery throughout is visceral and truly haunting. At once an exhilarating story of survival and a commentary on both the perils of girlhood and the impending danger of climate change, this was just the read I was in the mood for.

Anya’s Ghost by Vera Brosgol

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] This graphic novel made for a great little reread during the spooky season. The setup requires a suspension of disbelief, but I liked Brosgol’s balance of fun and creepiness. I also appreciated the inclusion of wider themes surrounding self-acceptance, particularly concerning body image and the immigrant experience.

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There we have it! My favourites this month were Wilder Girls and Glass, Snow, Apples. What was your favourite read in October?

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September Wrap Up

The books I read in September

September was an odd month for me. For much of it, I felt as excited as ever about the many great books I want to get to, and yet strangely demotivated whenever I actually sat down to read. A mild slump, or a general feeling of apathy due to a succession of good but not fantastic reads throughout much of the year, who can say? I’m pleased to say the month ended on a high, however, and hope that some suitably gothic and creepy reads (which are right up my street) in October will get me back on track.

But in the meantime, here are some brief thoughts on each of the 10 books I read throughout September, with links to my full reviews if you’d like to know more.

Frankissstein by Jeanette Winterson

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] Complaining about a lacklustre reading month, then kicking things off with a five-star review: I am a contradiction. Winterson combines past, present, and future to great effect in this thematically rich riff on Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. Gender and identity, the role of AI, and the intersection of consciousness and biological matter are all explored here in a truly singular reading experience that was as enthralling as it was thought-provoking.

Turbulence by David Szalay

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] Stronger in concept than in execution, this series of loosely interconnected short stories looks at the universal struggles of being human, as strangers cross paths in a succession of journeys across the globe. The prose and use of structure as a means of storytelling were solid, but the time spent with each character was so fleeting that the book suffered slightly from a repeated lack of resolution.

The Only Girl in the World by Maude Julien (translated from the French by Adriana Hunter)

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] This stranger than fiction memoir details Julien’s harrowing childhood under the tyrannical rule of her physically and emotionally abusive father, who sought to create a new kind of ‘superhuman’ via extreme training and conditioning. Morbidly compelling, the book is testament to human resilience, but I felt it could have been even more powerful had it offered greater insight into Julien’s adulthood, post-escape.

La beauté sans vertu by Genevieve Valentine

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] An unsettling, satirical swipe at beauty standards and the hidden cruelties of the fashion world. I loved the haunting concept of this brief offering that blends speculative sci-fi and body horror, but felt the ending needed a little more oomph.

The Inner Room by Robert Aickman

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] Drawing on horror conventions, this novella builds atmosphere well as we move towards the climax’s arresting tableau, with imagery that lingers in the mind to great effect. That said, I felt things fizzled out somewhat; that final twist or gut-punch sadly lacking. A worthwhile little read, nonetheless.

A Murder Is Announced by Agatha Christie

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] This is arguably one of Christie’s better-known titles, but certainly not one of her best based on my experience. The hallmarks of the golden era of crime are still present, it captures the tense atmosphere of post-war Britain well, and she remained one step ahead as per usual. However, there were a number of implausible coincidences that flirted with farce, leading to an unexpected but not wholly believable ending. Still, Christie is always fun!

No One Is Too Small to Make a Difference by Greta Thunberg

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] This book collects a number of speeches by Greta Thunberg, the 16-year-old, headline-grabbing climate activist. Since they were delivered over a span of months to a number of different audiences, there is an element of repetition in her phrasing and statistics, but the core of her arguments is always accessible, eloquent, and laudable. Long may she speak out, and long may the world listen.

The New Testament by Jericho Brown

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] This collection of poetry combines the deeply personal with the powerfully political to explore themes of queerness, race, masculinity, and family. Brown draws on mythology, fairy tale, and Bible stories to create striking imagery, his use of language bold yet beautiful. I’m excited to explore more of his work.

A Spell of Winter by Helen Dunmore

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] Dark, gothic, and incredibly evocative, this was just the read I was in the mood for. Dunmore creates a quietly sinister atmosphere, and I was greatly impressed by the balance of readability and deeper themes; the book making interesting commentary on the likes of forbidden love, female autonomy, and the struggle to escape familial inheritance. A slight shift away from the gothic in the final third was all that held me back from a 5 star rating, but I really did love this.

The Victim by P. D. James

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] Another of the Faber Stories range, this strangely serene yet disquieting insight into the mind of a scorned lover as he plots his revenge is a great little read. There’s a clever twist at the end that shines new light on the story’s title and true meaning, which in turn poses interesting questions about obsession and power.

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My total number of reads in 2019 now stands at 94, so I’m optimistic about hitting my 100 book goal for the year within the next month! What was your favourite read in September?

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August Wrap Up | Women in Translation Month

The books I read in August

I managed to commit to Women in Translation Month for the whole of August, meaning my wrap ups for both have dovetailed nicely into one post.

I finished 11 books by women in translation throughout August, representing authors from 9 countries, writing across 8 languages. I’m pretty happy with that overall. But of course, reading broadly is something we all could and should strive to do year-round, and there are definitely gaps in my intake of translated lit that need addressing. Here are some very brief thoughts on each of my picks, with links to my full reviews if you’d like to know more.

Lust, Caution by Eileen Chang (China | Translated from the Chinese by Julia Lovell et al.)

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] Quiet slice of life stories that capture a period of societal transition in post war China, this collection was hampered by its use of numerous translators, which led to an uneven narrative voice. Still, I enjoyed Chang’s look at the role of women and the dramas of every day domesticity.

The Good Lover by Steinunn Sigurðardóttir (Iceland | Translated from the Icelandic by Philip Roughton)

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] This offbeat, contemplative novel is a rumination on various kinds of unrequited love, and the pain of yearning for the unattainable. Being driven by its themes more than its plot, characters speak and act in somewhat inexplicable ways, but it was an interesting, singular read nonetheless.

Liar by Ayelet Gundar-Goshen (Israel | Translated from the Hebrew by Sondra Silverston)

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] Very nearly a five-star read, I loved this stress-inducing and atmospheric look at the dangerous ripple effect of lies, and our moral obligation to honour the truth. The prose is stunning, and for all its page-turning readability, it poses a lot of big, thought-provoking questions via its complex, flawed, and very believable characters.

Blue is the Warmest Color by Julie Maroh (France | Translated from the French by Ivanka Hahnenberger)

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] I’m glad I decided to revisit this graphic novel. Though it doesn’t offer the most original narrative arc when it comes to queer coming of age lit, it’s told with a lot of heart and visual flair.

The Unit by Ninni Holmqvist (Sweden | Translated from the Swedish by Marlaine Delargy)

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] There’s an unexpected gentleness to this speculative dystopian tale. I loved its subtle critique of class snobbery and the role of women, as well as the flawed way that we as a society define success and value in life.

The Iliac Crest by Cristina Rivera Garza (Mexico | Translated from the Spanish by Sarah Booker)

[ ⭐ ⭐ ] Themes at play here include toxic masculinity, the way we use language to divide the sexes, and the concept of borders – both real and imagined. Fascinating though they are, the plot and characters are held at such a distance that I felt no emotional connection.

Alseep by Banana Yoshimoto (Japan | Translated from the Japanese by Michael Emmerich)

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] Three melancholic and quietly mystical novellas that look at grief and forbidden love, this is the kind of collection that is more successful in creating a certain mood than it is in crafting standout narrative moments.

Horizontal Collaboration by Navie & Carole Maurel (France | Translated from the French by Margaret Morrison)

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] This excellent graphic novel shows the everyday struggles that persisted in France during Occupation, with a particular focus on the forbidden love between French women and occupying German forces. Navie’s characters are believably flawed and complex, with Maurel’s striking art bringing their emotional struggles to life with real flair.

The White Book by Han Kang (South Korea | Translated from the Korean by Deborah Smith)

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] Part novel, part memoir, part poetry collection, this book is presented as a series of vignettes that muse on life and death. In stunning prose, it explores the role that language plays in navigating grief and pain, and the burden of living a life intended for another.

The True Deceiver by Tove Jansson (Finland | Translated from the Swedish by Thomas Teal)

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] This is a deceptively simple tale that ruminates on the likes of art, community, love, and change, whilst asking us to consider which is worse: lying to others, or lying to ourselves. I felt engaged at the time of reading, but the promise of tension and atmosphere never quite reached a fever pitch.

Snare by Lilja Sigurðardóttir (Iceland | Translated from the Icelandic by Quentin Bates)

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] Page-turning tension meets emotional complexity in this fantastic example of Nordic noir. We follow a tangled web of brilliantly well-realised characters, each as complex and morally ambiguous as the next, as they struggle with their own forms of obsession or addiction in this solidly written, well-paced, and seamlessly translated romp.

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There we have it! I had a lot of fun committing so fully to Women in Translation Month this year, and I discovered some great books along the way – the real standouts being Liar, The White Book, Snare, and Horizontal Collaboration. I also added lots of great sounding reads to my TBR based on other people’s posts, so it’s been a big success on that front too!

August took my total number of reads this year up to 84, and I look forward to seeing what books September will bring my way.

What was your favourite read in August? What’s your favourite book by a woman in translation?

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