Best Books I Read in 2015

It is the last day of 2015, and I finally feel ready to actually post what I think are the best books I read in 2015. I read a lot of amazing books this year, many of which I loved and thought were extremely well-written, but these books listed below specifically are ones that always seem to pop into my mind, that frame my thinking of other books, and whose images, characters and words keep me thinking/guessing. I'm also going to include a quote from each to entice you to read them, of course! They are in the order in which I read them.

Aside from these amazing books, peep my new bedsheets as the backdrop,
where were a gift from one of my best friends. Who wouldn't want
lovely bedsheets for Christmas?!

The City in Which I Love You by Li-Young Lee

But the boy is packing his shirts,
he is looking for his keys. Are you a god,the man screams, that I sit mute before you?
Am I a god that I should never disappoint? ('A Story' 15-18)

Li-Young Lee is one of my absolute favorite poets of all time. I want to say that Lee's poetry deals with a lot of big issues, such as being a refugee (he and his family fled from Indonesia when he was a baby, and knocked around a few countries in East Asia before settling in the US), religion, love, etc. But to just say that, to say Lee is a political poet, is not enough. All of his poetry are grounded in specific moments, images, and relationships, that when I think of what 'humane' means, I think of Lee's poetry. The City in Which I Love You exhibits, I think, Lee at his best. With stunning poems such as 'My Father in Heaven is Reading Out Loud,' which conflates the image of his own father with a Heavenly Father, Lee teases out the complexity of his relationship with his father, religion, and the legacy of his family's history.

The Luminaries by Eleanor Catton

'That is a good beginning; I am glad it is yours. Tonight shall be mine.'
'Ought we to have different ones?'
'Different beginnings? I think we must.'
'Will there be more of them?'
'A great many more' (832)

I read this book at the very beginning of 2015, and have not forgotten about it - images, characters, themes, and sentences recur in my mind, and connect with other things I've read in the past year. This novel has truly stayed with me. I don't think more than two days go by without me thinking about it. The Luminaries is an intricately plotted novel, that follows a sprawling cast of characters - there is a character list in the front of the novel! - in the gold-mining town of Hokitika, New Zealand in 1866. Catton uses the zodiac and astrology as the bones of her novel - each character is associated with a zodiac sign, for example - in order to showcase how they interact, collide, and circle one another in the events of the novel. The basic plot is there is a missing rich, young man named Emery Staines, and the other main characters are invested in him being alive or dead for whatever reason. The use of the zodiac and astrology is brilliant, and makes you think about the connections between the characters in new ways (although, do not be mistaken, this is not about horoscopes), and I think propels the basic narrative of the missing persons case in interesting ways. This novel is an odyssey, and by the end, I believe all the traveling you will have done with these characters is well worth it. 

Mariana by Monica Dickens

'At first she had thought that her heart was dead. She told herself that she had been through a searing experience which had left her as a woman set apart from love - a tragic figure. This sustaining vision had tided her over the misery of the end of last summer' (189).

This is the first novel published by Persephone Books I have ever read. I found it randomly in The Strand when I was looking for a Charles Dickens book - Monica is his great, great granddaughter! If you don't already know, Persephone Books publishes forgotten novels by (mostly) women. I am all for supporting women, and not letting women's contributions to literature be forgotten. This book was simply lovely. There is nothing like reading a satisfying romantic book that is not condescending towards its heroine (the titular character, Mariana), nor its audience, and it does so because it acknowledges and beautifully portrays the flaws and desires of its characters. We follow Mariana through ups and downs as she desperately tries to gain independence, and find a man she can truly love and who truly loves her. It's a well-written story about wanting a man, but not needing a man, which is a distinction too rarely made in novels about women, or in women's lives in general.

The Stone Gods by Jeanette Winterson

'Some religions call life a dream, or a dreaming, but what if it is a memory? What is this new world isn't new at all but a memory of a new world?' (87).

This is a bit of an odd one. A post-apocalyptic novel that jumps back and forth in time, between worlds (or maybe the same world? Never quite sure). For the most part, the novel follows Billie Crusoe, who falls in with a 'Robo sapien,' Spike, as they embark on a mission to find a new inhabitable planet, since Earth is dying after being ravaged by war and greed. In this novel, we basically get a queer android love story that investigates the nature of war, time, and humanity, itself. Really everything is in this novel.

The Argonauts by Maggie Nelson

'The pleasure of ordinary devotion. The pleasure of recognizing that one may have to undergo the same realizations, write the same notes in the margin, return to the same themes in one's work, relearn the same emotional truths, write the same book over and over again - not because one is stupid or obstinate or incapable of change, but because such revisitations constitute a life' (112).

I knew this book would be one of my favorites. Last year, I read Nelson's Bluets - which if you haven't read YOU SHOULD - and absolutely fucking loved it. It's a brilliant book, which I will hopefully talk about on here soon, but haven't yet since I have so many thoughts on it that they are like an avalanche in my mind. Which is also my situation with The Argonauts. But anyway, this book is what Nelson calls a book of 'autotheory,' meaning it is an autobiography of sorts, in which she uses critical theory as a lens for her life, and as a way to shape her life. The autobiographical part deals in particular with Nelson's marriage to her partner, Harry, who is fluidly gendered, and their having a baby. Nelson is interested in what it means to make a family, and is interested in how the language shapes family relationships, and queer relationships. Nelson is brilliant at weaving her personal story with critical and literary texts, and the effect is a richer, and more comprehensive understanding of her life.

Nazi Literature in the Americas by Roberto Bolaño

'The stories simply happen, period - produced by the sovereign power of chance unleashed, operating outside time and space, at the dawn of a new age, as it were, in which spatio-temporal perception is undergoing transformation and even becoming obsolete' (123-124).

At least one Bolaño was going to be on this list, and this year, it's Nazi Literature in the Americas, a fictional encyclopedia of right-wing authors. Bolaño makes up entire histories, and creates a tapestry of a literary world that never existed. In this endeavor, Bolaño pushes the boundaries of fiction. What does it mean to have a made-up encyclopedia? Something that is meant to the record the world as it is, but made-up? There seems to be a paradox of fiction and reality. And I don't even know where to begin to unpack why he decided on right-wing authors - the role of politics, fascism, and the specter of WWII and the Holocaust are dissertation-worthy + ten books of criticism.

Cloud Atlas by David Mitchell

'"Catch you all next time.' Luisa is going. 'It's a small world. It keeps recrossing itself"' (418).

I've just finished this book last week, and it blew my mind. The construction of the story is brilliant: 6 stories-within-stories, spanning centuries, and the globe. Each story leads into the next, and we see how people are connected across time and space. It's a very lofty goal, and the execution is perfect: never clinical, and never a slave to its conceit, this novel is so rich in its characters, and so brilliant in the way it shows their connection. Many talk about this novel in terms of how it discusses the 'universality' of human beings, reincarnations, that there is some deep, mysterious connection between us all. I'm not sure about all of those things, but what I am sure of is that this novel discusses brilliantly how we all become stories, passed on, retold, and forgotten.

_____

I also want to say a thank you to those that have been reading along, as I post my thoughts and theories on this blog. I'm excited for the new year, and more books!

Also, some time in the next few days I'm going to post more of a statistical analysis of the books I read in 2015. And by 'statistical analysis' I mean tally marks. So get ready!

One Body, One Immunity: Eula Biss' ON IMMUNITY: AN INOCULATION

In my attempt to read more non-fiction, I picked up On Immunity: An Inoculation by Eula Biss, a book that I've been eyeing for about a year, but wanted to wait until it came out in paperback to buy.

If the cover is at all familiar, it is one of Rubens'
most famous paintings, Achilles Dipped into
the River Styx.

In general I have a hard time making myself read non-fiction. For reasons I have yet to figure out, fiction is just more compelling to me than non-fiction, but I want to keep learning about things I don't know about. One reason On Immunity particularly interested me was because it speaks to debates going on now. On Immunity details the history of vaccinations, and how that history involves how we as human beings have conceptualized our own bodies, others' bodies, others' bodies in relation to our own, disease, and health. Biss is especially concerned with the metaphors we use, such as the war metaphor, of our bodies battling against an invader or enemy. This project started when she was pregnant with her son, and wanted to know more about vaccinations, considering there is a growing number of people against vaccinations. Biss is pro-vaccinations, but she explores the anxieties behind those that are not, and clearly presents the overwhelming amount of evidence that vaccinations are in no way dangerous.

The most powerful aspect of the book is Biss' exploration of how there is this fallacy that we as individuals are self-contained, and that our bodies do not necessarily effect others, and they don't effect us, this fallacy that we can make our own choices (in terms of vaccinations) because we are individuals, when in reality we are a community of bodies, making up one body. In order to protect the health of many, we need to vaccinate, we 'owe our bodies to each other' (18). This issue intersects with race and economics, as those who tend to choose to not vaccinate their children are white, college-educated, and have annual income of upwards of $75,000 a year, which can then affect those who cannot afford to give their children all the recommended vaccinations, and they tend to be black, younger unmarried mothers, and live in poverty (27). Those that come from a place of privilege put those that do not have access to proper healthcare at risk. 

One reason people tend to be wary of vaccinations is their belief that it is a purely capitalistic venture, that 'Big Pharma' just wants to make money off of everyone by saying that vaccinations are absolutely necessary. Biss rejects this as a conspiracy theory, and actually talks about how pharmaceutical companies do not see huge profits from vaccinations (113). Vaccinations in fact, are in opposition to capitalism: receiving vaccinations is 'a system in which both the burdens and the benefits are shared across the entire population. Vaccination allows us to use products of capitalism [private pharmaceutical companies] for purposes that are counters to the pressures of capital' (96). 

This all makes think of a passage from World War Z by Max Brooks. Now now, hang in there with me for a second: be open to this. World War Z is a book that is actually very smart in its discussion of disease, health, humanity as a community, and democracy. Brief summary: World War Z is about a zombie outbreak that almost decimates the human population on earth. The story is told from the point of view of many survivors detailing the various aspects of the catastrophe. At the end of the novel, one character says that there isn't anyone to blame. Not the politicians or businessman that used the outbreak for their own ends, but that everyone is responsible: 'That's the price of living in a democracy; we all gotta take the rap' (334). That line has stuck with me for a long time, and often echoes in my mind. I'm reminded me of this because in my mind, democracy is on the opposite side of the spectrum from capitalism, but at the same time, it is democracy that allows capitalism to exist. (Also take note this is definitely through the lens of democracy in the U.S., as is Biss' book, which largely focuses on the vaccination debate in the U.S.). Through the lens of Brooks' quote, I think it is important to note that in the foundation of the U.S. is a responsibility for each other, to consider others in our decisions. One cannot just ask, 'what is best for my child?', but 'what is best for all children?' It also points to the fact that one cannot stand by and simply berate those that would choose not to vaccinate their children, but actually take responsibility and work toward mending the systems and conditions that would push them to make those decisions, i.e., SES inequality, racial inequality, education, medical-industrial complex, and so on and so on.

Backwards and Forwards to MAD MEN

Last night, I went to a talk at The Strand about Mad Men Carousel, critic Matt Zoller Seitz's new book, which is a critical companion to the television series Mad Men. The book contains recaps and analysis for each episode of the series, and provides extensive footnotes for each episode. Every episode of Mad Men is jam-packed with references and allusions - the footnotes begin that work of breaking those down, though one book is certainly not enough to do that.

 


Seitz spoke on a panel with fellow critics who love Mad Men and contributed to the book. They talked about when they first started to watch the show, what made them keep watching, spoke generally and specifically about themes in the series, and took audience questions. It was a really fantastic talk, and I just wanted to note a few interesting points made throughout the night. And if you haven't watched Mad Men, please do! Yes it is another show (mainly) about privileged sad white people problems, but the show is so humane and brilliant in that the characters in the show are so fully realized. The subjectivity of each is believable. And the structure and composition of the show is unparalleled, in my opinion. It is one of those few experiences where I have felt like I am watching a novel happen on the screen (if you couldn't already tell, novels are IT for me - there is no other medium as beautiful and profound to me). But Mad Men is also a very good example of what the medium of television can do.

Anyway! Here are some things from the talk:

• Seitz and Co. talked a lot about how many think Mad Men can be very 'on the nose' about its themes, about how it goes about connecting the lives of the characters to the various historic events of the 1960s. Seitz and crew disagreed, and Seitz said, 'Mad Men is smarter than anyone who thinks they're smarter than Mad Men.' I think at first glance, Mad Men can seem very on-the-nose, or it can be dismissed because come on, do we really need another show about white people? We really don't, but I think there is so much in Mad Men that is still valuable to consider, and can be revisited over and over again to mine for new meanings and connections.
• [Slight spoilers for the finale] Seitz and Co. were asked about how they felt about the ending of the finale, which, like any series finale, was contentious among fans. They specifically addressed the point as to whether or not the ending was meant to be read as highly cynical, suggesting that our protagonist Don Draper has made no progress. Seitz argued against this by pointing out the very first shot in the pilot vs. the very last shot of the finale. At the beginning of the pilot, we get a close-up of Don, but it is a close-up of the back of his head. When we first meet him, we do not actually see his face, meaning that he is closed off from us and others around him, as he is in a restaurant. While the last shot in the series finale is a close-up of his face; he is meditating with others, and smiling, suggesting a new openness. How much of a better person Don is, despite the fact that he goes back to McCann and commodifies the hippie movement for a Coca-Cola ad, there is still growth, or at least an awareness of who he is and what he's doing. Wow.

I really love going to talks, because they remind me a bit of college, in that you are with others who are (hopefully) just as excited about something as you are, and the conversation and insights that derive from that kind of enthusiasm are always so interesting. It's also nice to be in conversation with others because they will reveal things and spark thoughts that you could never have on your own, which is why it is so important to me to talk about books. And I haven't re-watched any Mad Men since the finale in April, but it might be time...

Signatures from MZS and contributors!

Quick Chat: ONGOINGNESS #2

I’m interested in things that seem impossible, that seem as if they can’t coexist, that are paradoxes, but I think the truest things are the ones that seem like they shouldn’t be able to coexist together. Take, for example, one of the major dilemmas in Sarah Manguso’s Ongoingness: do we arrive at ‘pure experience’ through language or in spite of it? I would say it’s both at the same time. 

First, let me unpack what ‘pure experience’ is referring to. In Ongoingness, ‘pure experience’ is used to mean making the most meaning out of one’s life by transcending one’s subjectivity in order to get at the essence of feelings, events, and memories. This is, of course, against the backdrop of death. Limited time compels maximum experience. 

Manguso kept detailed diary entries for 25 years because she felt that the days were too full, that she needed ‘extra days, buffer days, between the real days’ (11) in order to process what she had experienced, in order to be ready for what was next. What she wanted to achieve through her writing was ‘Language as pure experience, pure memory’ (16). The idea being that through meticulously going over the details of her experience, remembering and arranging what seems important, would make the most meaning out of her life. The fault with this, though, is that experiences never stop – one thing happens, and then another – so no one thing can be understood without the context of everything before and everything after. ‘Pure experience’ is not a collection of beginnings and ends, but of ongoingness. 

Now, let’s try to make this a little more concrete. After maintaining her meticulous diary entries, Manguso is forced to write significantly less because she has a baby. She needs to feed him, and simply watch him – these interactions are wordless. Through these wordless interactions, Manguso begins to remember things she did not even know she could. For example, on page 66, when feeding her son, she remembers a moment when food was dribbling down her face, and the food was scooped up back into her mouth. The implication is that the memory is deeply ingrained in her body, but inaccessible through language. Language is unable to encompass everything, so trying to use it to reach ‘pure experience’ is not enough, but it is something. We have this book. And for the most part, I think we read and write because we know it gets us closer to ‘pure experience.’

‘Ongoingness’ in the book as it relates to ‘pure experience’ involves language and no language. Working through language, while also allowing for the lack of language, and going against language. And in response to my previous post about this book, about whether or not having a baby is the solution to the existential crises one has about time and death, I think this paradox of language and no language helps. It seems that part of what having a baby made such an impact is the interaction of one who views things through this prism of language, and one who does not. There is a confrontation there of what language does and does not do, and what it means in that interaction. 

Okay that’s it for Ongoingness. I hope all of this made sense somehow. Let me know your thoughts!

Quick Chat: ONGOINGNESS #1

So I've already finished this lovely book to the left. I legit bought it last night, read it last night - which took me a whole 45 minutes to read. I've decided to make this a Quick Chat rather than a more long-form critical piece, because I want to reread this before I write anything too substantial, but I still needed to write something. I approached the book knowing I would love it, and oh, I did. 

Ongoingness: The End of a Diary by Sarah Manguso is a memoir*...of sorts. This book is about the diary Manguso meticulously kept for 25 years: why she started it, what kept her going, and made her stop, which is (spoilerz not rly): she had a baby. The book is comprised of short meditations on the nature of time, birth, death, the past, memory. Basically, all of the BIG. IDEAS. ABOUT. HUMANITY. In the book, Manguso tries to figure out 'ongoingness': a way of accounting for the present which immediately becomes the past, and a way of being present in her experiences. It's really fascinating, and I think could be an interesting lens through which to analyze our use of social media...but that is a conversation I do not feel like having. 

From my first fevered 1AM reading of this book, I love this book. I'm really interested in this kind of memoir writing: it's deeply personal introspection that is also very removed, because Manguso is really trying to get to the exact meaning of things, which is even more interesting because that's what she wanted to do with the diaries she kept. In a review from The Atlantic, the writer says Manguso's prose feels 'twice distilled; it is whiskey rather than beer,' which is perhaps the most accurate description I could read for this book.

For now, let me leave you with a line from the book that is haunting me - which is always a beautiful and daunting feeling from a book. Towards the end of the book, Manguso, who has frantically for the past 25 years been concerned with remembering the right things so that she could make sure she was experiencing life fully, gives in and says, 'the forgotten moments are the price of continued participation in life' (85). I mentioned before that what sparks the end of intense diary-writing is having a child. In order to more fully participate in the life of her child and be a mother, she needed to let go of the need to obsessively document and revise her life. I have a feeling it's a little more complicated than that, or at least I hope it is, because can it really be that all of the fears she held about dying, time, and living her life fully can only be alleviated because of a baby? Are children really the answer? I don't know. That's one of the things I'm trying to think about from this book, which really does have so much in it.



*Note: My tag for this post is difficult to figure out. This book is technically a memoir, but it is more than that. It's a book that resists strict genre definition, which is fine with me. For now, and for the purposes of this blog, I will simply tag it non-fiction. This may change. I'm still deciding.

BAD FEMINIST by Roxane Gay

Photo: Katie Chin

Just finished Roxane Gay's Bad Feminist, a book I have been wanting to read for quite some time, but it took me a while to get to because I always choose fiction over non-fiction, so it took time for me to finally make myself read this book. 

I generally enjoyed the book. Gay's writing is clear, and it's a pretty easy read, so I flew through this book, despite the fact that I am a bit of a slow reader. I wanted this book to be revolutionary for me, but it wasn't. I think because I am an 'internet' person and purposefully engage with feminism and issues around feminism, not much was new to me. Many of the essays relied on using television shows, movies and novels as examples or points of critique, which is all well and good, but it ended up being that 80% of what I was reading was recaps. I felt as if I should have just been given a reading list. 

Although, Bad Feminist still excels. With this collection of essays, Gay comprehensively conveys intersectional feminism. Her essays range from talking about the horrendous gender roles of books such as Twilight, to discussing how black bodies in films are too often depicted as being brutalized and therefore need more diverse narratives about the lives of black people. The book works toward a critical understanding of the necessary work and dismantling to be done toward equality in cultural, political and personal spheres. Furthermore, Gay is forward with her emotions, and allows empathy to guide her through the difficult issues and seemingly insurmountable problems presented. In the essay 'How We All Lose,' Gay references another writer Kate Zambreno, who said, 'For my criticism came out of, has always come out of, enormous feeling.' These essays do not run away from the enormous feeling associated with the struggle for equality, representation, and justice.