Today, I bring you my ten favorite books of 2010. The list includes one short story collection, four works of literary fiction, an essay collection, a graphic novel and a dystopian young adult series. The majority of the entries came easily (only number 10 had to fight for its spot). Numbers 6-4 might as well be grouped all together; my thoughts on their ordering change moment to moment. My complete 2010 reading list can be found in the sidebar, but click below for more specific remarks on the year's best.
#10. The Hours (Michael Cunningham)
The first FSG published, Pulitzer Prize winner to make the list, The Hours propelled me into the psyches of its three leading ladies. Over a quick 240 pages, Virginia, Laura and Clarissa become startlingly real; Michael Cunningham envelopes you in their thoughts until you lose sight of your own. It's a short, tight book written in a deft, elegant style. The individual narratives flow together like streams joining a mighty river; the consciousness of each woman strengthening the larger work.
#9. The House of the Spirits (Isabel Allende)
Isabel Allende's celebrated account of the fictional Trueba family unfolds over three generations like a series of Russian dolls. As the focus shifts from matriarch Clara to her daughter, Blanca, and finally, to her granddaughter, Alba, the weight of the past and the sins of the father grow heavier on the characters' shoulders. Allende tackles everything from political turmoil and upheaval, forbidden love, magical realism and family dysfunction in her examination of the larger than life Truebas. It's a full novel with many moving pieces, but the way they fit together brings the story full circle, while simultaneously ushering the family into the modern world.
#8. Y: The Last Man, Vol. 3 (Brian K. Vaughan)
The third deluxe edition of Brian K. Vaughan's Y: The Last Man continues the journey of Yorick Brown, seemingly the last man on Earth. After two volumes of slow build, Vaughan begins to point the series toward its conclusion, as characters and subplots come crashing together with great affect. Yorick reconnects with his sister, Hero, a ninja named Toyota proves a dangerous adversary, the relationship between Yorick and his protector, 355, grows more complicated, and Dr. Mann potentially unlocks the mystery of Yorick's continued survival. In the midst of sword fights, shoot-outs, and great escapes, Vaughan envisions a society free of the male influence, thus asking us to reconsider the gender dynamics of today.
#7. Changing My Mind (Zadie Smith)
Zadie Smith's first foray into the world of collected essays proves as insightful, intellectual and fun as any of her beloved novels. Changing My Mind features a wide range of subjects and forms from classic literary analysis (on Kafka, Forster and Nabokov), to contemporary film review (perhaps the funniest pieces included), to personal essays (the entry on novel writing is a personal favorite) and odes to some of her favorite people (Katharine Hepburn, Zora Neale Hurston, her father). There's also an excellent piece on Oscar weekend in Los Angeles that includes a chance encounter with Bret Easton Ellis (a friend of the author's), proving once and for all that Zadie Smith has an awesome life.
#6. The Blind Assassin (Margaret Atwood)
About halfway through 2010, I realized I had never read any Margaret Atwood, and decided to do something about it. Maybe it was the glowing recommendations of friends, maybe it was the fact that I read The Blind Assassin on the beach in Bermuda or maybe (most likely) it was Atwood's brilliant writing, but damn, did I love this book. I devoured it. You know almost immediately that things are not what they seem - the circumstances of Laura's death and Iris' situation scream cover story, cover up, false. The dual narratives (Iris' first person account of her life and the book Laura wrote) wind tighter and tighter until it feels as though they will snap at a moment's notice. It's a fantastic book that finishes with a string of explosive revelations that recast the story in an entirely new light.
#5. Middlesex (Jeffrey Eugenides)
#5. Middlesex (Jeffrey Eugenides)
For years, I stared at the cover of Middlesex, emblazoned with Oprah's approval, staring up at me from the front table of countless Barnes & Nobles. Why, I wondered, did people love that book so much? I only began reading the novel because a friend gave me a copy. It didn't grab me right away; my interest lay with Cal, while he spent chapter after chapter retelling his family history, beginning with a set of grandparents to whom I couldn't relate. About halfway through, however, Calliope emerged as the subject of Cal's recollections, and suddenly, I understood what all the fuss was about. Here was a story about adolescent awkwardness, first love, sexual and emotional confusion, and generational misunderstanding. Here was a story about the search for identity, told by a voice as wise as Tiresias and as brave as Antigone. Here was the story everyone I knew celebrated and praised and treasured. Count me among the converted.
#4. Both Ways Is the Only Way I Want It (Maile Meloy)
When I've been reading a lot of big, dense novels, I like to clear my head with a collection of short stories. Short stories have a different rhythm; each piece stands alone, complete and compact. You can't grow tired of them (unless they're bad). I find something almost melancholy about the form - the good ones always end too soon. That aching feeling, that sense you've experienced something pure and beautiful that you can't immediately recapture, pervades Maile Meloy's Both Ways Is the Only Way I Want It. She stretches her characters between here and there, between opposing wants, desires and futures. She writes cleanly, crisply, each sentence so carefully placed, yet so quietly confident. She doesn't have a message, or an agenda, or Something Important to Say, she just knows people, often better than they know themselves. Each story is both a sucker punch and a soothing balm, a clear window into the essence of the human experience.
and Mockingjay (Suzanne Collins)
I read a lot of good books in 2010. I encountered a lot of complex characters and heartbreaking descriptive paragraphs. This list already includes two Pulitzer Prize winners, a Booker Prize winner and one of the New York Times' five best fiction books of 2009. Nevertheless, no book I read last year impacted me as greatly as Suzanne Collins' Hunger Games trilogy. Yes, these books are published by Scholastic and marketed almost exclusively to teenagers, but that doesn't mean they don't kick ass. Collins takes the essential framework of many young adult series (the love triangle) and smashes it to pieces. She does so by way of her narrator, Katniss Everdeen, perhaps my favorite fictional character of all time.
Katniss lives in the not-so-distant future, where North America has been annihilated by nuclear war. Pockets of humanity survive in the Twelve Districts, dominated by the Capitol. Every year, to remind the Districts of their subservience, the Capitol takes one boy and one girl from each District and forces them into a fight to the death. Footage of this event, the Hunger Games, is aired nightly as a reality show on national television. Already, Collins has drawn parallels to Greek mythology, the Roman Empire, the Iraq war, our country's own voyeur culture and the ethics of reality TV. She brilliantly addresses these issues (and more) from the perspective of a teenage girl forced to be many things to many people.
Everyone from Capitol politicians, to the audience at home, to her fellow competitors in the Arena have an idea as to who Katniss is and who they want her to be. She is poked and prodded, given extravagant makeovers and media training and asked to participate in political propaganda. She is made to serve as the symbol of a revolution, a voice of hope to a disenfranchised people, as well as a sister, daughter, friend and community member. When she gets even a moment to consider the triangle that is her love life, she usually tells both boys to go away and stop acting so immature. After all, she has more important games to play.
I love these books because Collins takes her characters seriously. Katniss is a smart girl who makes the occasional foolish decision, but she isn't passive. Things happen to her that are out of her control, but she remains in charge of her own thinking and behavior. This isn't the story of a girl forced to choose between two boyfriends. This is the story of a young woman forced to survive in a world that doesn't want her thinking for herself. That she continues to do so is a testament to her strength, and the genius of her author. Collins believes in the agency of young people, in the trauma of war, and in the ability of the human spirit to endure the most horrific of experiences. The Hunger Games encourages us to do the same.
Katniss lives in the not-so-distant future, where North America has been annihilated by nuclear war. Pockets of humanity survive in the Twelve Districts, dominated by the Capitol. Every year, to remind the Districts of their subservience, the Capitol takes one boy and one girl from each District and forces them into a fight to the death. Footage of this event, the Hunger Games, is aired nightly as a reality show on national television. Already, Collins has drawn parallels to Greek mythology, the Roman Empire, the Iraq war, our country's own voyeur culture and the ethics of reality TV. She brilliantly addresses these issues (and more) from the perspective of a teenage girl forced to be many things to many people.
Everyone from Capitol politicians, to the audience at home, to her fellow competitors in the Arena have an idea as to who Katniss is and who they want her to be. She is poked and prodded, given extravagant makeovers and media training and asked to participate in political propaganda. She is made to serve as the symbol of a revolution, a voice of hope to a disenfranchised people, as well as a sister, daughter, friend and community member. When she gets even a moment to consider the triangle that is her love life, she usually tells both boys to go away and stop acting so immature. After all, she has more important games to play.
I love these books because Collins takes her characters seriously. Katniss is a smart girl who makes the occasional foolish decision, but she isn't passive. Things happen to her that are out of her control, but she remains in charge of her own thinking and behavior. This isn't the story of a girl forced to choose between two boyfriends. This is the story of a young woman forced to survive in a world that doesn't want her thinking for herself. That she continues to do so is a testament to her strength, and the genius of her author. Collins believes in the agency of young people, in the trauma of war, and in the ability of the human spirit to endure the most horrific of experiences. The Hunger Games encourages us to do the same.
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