Below, you'll find my favorite quotes from Tina Fey's funny, non-fiction book Bossypants (is it a memoir? I say no. It kind of reads like an episode of Saturday Night Live, if that makes any sense. It jumps around a lot both topically and chronologically, and is smart and funny*).
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.
I saw The Kids Are All Right, Inception and The Young Victoria. I loved Kids the most; Maree and I sat in the theater for a good ten minutes after the credits rolled, hugging each other and happy crying. Annette Bening's performance blew me away.
Covers by Scribner and Picador
Covers by Anchor, Harper Perennial,The Blind Assassin: Prior to reading this book, I had never read any Margaret Atwood (I know). I consumed her Booker Prize winning masterpiece in a frenzied four days; I can't remember the last time I so desperately needed to know what happened next, while simultaneously never wanting the book to end. The narrative-within-the-narrative keeps you guessing, dropping clues as to what's really happening, even as protagonist Iris Chase Griffen dances around the truth. Phrases like "tour de force," and "jaw-dropping" come to mind. The most satisfying novel I've read since starting this blog.
Love in Infant Monkeys: Strange, affecting short stories that examine the neurosis of celebrity, coupled with mankind's often ill-advised efforts to connect with the natural world (A).
Inglourious Basterds: Nazis, Nazi hunters, and a German actress turned double agent collide for a bloody massacre in Paris (plus, a lot of meta movie discussion [and scalping]) (B+).
I concluded my review of Y: The Last Man, Vol. 2 by saying that "the pace needs to quicken if I'm going to stick around any longer." With Vol. 3, Brian K. Vaughan resolves numerous lingering questions, while pointing the story in a new, international direction. The fantastic "Ring of Truth" arc (the best of the collection) features the return and reformation of Yorick's sister, Hero; a kidnapping; the proper introduction of Toyota (the mysterious ninja woman from previous issues); a sword fight in the rain on the Golden Gate Bridge; the unmasking of Agent 711's killers; two near-death experiences; and a potential explanation as to how and why Yorick survived the plague that ravaged mankind. Consider the pace quickened.
The Hills: You have to love an episode that begins with Stephanie noting that she's "twenty-three, and been to jail twice," ("Like, who does that?") features Lo (who finally makes the opening credits) calling Kristin a "crackhead" (behind her back, of course) and Heidi's step-father commenting that her newest face looks "frozen" (or as Heidi says, "plastic"). None of these moments would have occurred in prior seasons, when the producers kept an air-tight lid on the actually interesting parts of the girls' lives. If Kristin and company (which laughably includes Audrina, as if they would ever hang out in real life) can finally save Heidi from Spencer's sick machinations, acknowledging their various substance abuse scandals on-camera will have been worth it.
If Joshua Ferris' first book took a while to grab me (and ultimately, won me over), his second novel, The Unnamed, had me, and then lost me somewhere west of the Rocky Mountains. Initially, Ferris portrays Tim's disease as a tragic disruption of everyday life. A high-powered attorney, Tim walks out in the middle of trial. His wanderings force his wife, Jane, to scour area hospitals and police stations, searching for her wayward husband. He undergoes bizarre tests that leave him home alone watching TV with his overweight, distant daughter. The books begins as a portrait of privileged, suburban life, disrupted by the suddenness of illness. Tim's body does dangerous, unhealthy things he cannot understand; his condition throws his life into chaos.
The Best American Short Stories 2009: I already expressed my frustration with this series' continued recycling of its pet themes, and while that tradition unfortunately continues here, there is still plenty to celebrate. I usually like each volume just enough to read the next one (except for the fantastic Stephen King edited 2007 edition, which you should read for Richard Russo's "Horseman" at the very least), and that's the case here. I would give guest editor Alice Sebold a solid B+ for her efforts. My top five, in order of appearance: Sarah Shun-Lien Bynum's "Yurt," Adam Johnson's "Hurricanes Anonymous," Victoria Lancelotta's "The Anniversary Trip," (easily the best of the bunch) Annie Proulx's "Them Old Cowboy Songs," and Namwali Serpell's "Muzungu."
A little over a month ago, I finally saw Wicked. I am eternally grateful to my great friend, Cassie, who scored us third row seats, and patted my shoulder during both "Defying Gravity," and "For Good," (otherwise known as The Two Songs That Will Make You Cry, Or Else You Have No Feelings). We sat behind a lovely pair of women who sobbed for the entire second act, and exchanged kind words with us upon the show's completion.
I'm a third of the way through The Best American Short Stories 2009. I have had a love/hate relationship with this anthology since I began following the series in 2005. For every exquisite slice of original craft, you get the latest hollow iteration of the series' pet themes. You can guarantee that every year The Best American Short Stories will contain: a Jewish grandfather and grandson (the grandson grows up in New York or Chicago, does something vaguely creative professionally, and learns a lesson about his heritage from the foreign born older man he never understood), lower-class black girls (who discover the grim reality of their sexuality, most likely in the Bronx), upper-middle class white women (who hate their suburban existences), and the Third World (where good things can happen).
The Hurt Locker: Easily the best movie I've seen since starting this blog. Kathryn Bigelow refuses to direct to the cheap seats, vigilantly patrolling the borders of the story lest it trend toward the melodramatic. Her direction strips away any and all distraction, focusing your attention solely on the work these soldiers do. She has no sweeping political statement with which to slap you across the face, merely the reality of these men and this war. It's a spare film, yet Bigelow employs her tools with expertise; you don't need to know the back-story (the film's one weakness - Evangeline Lilly), or see a stream of tears, to know these characters daily walk a knife's edge. I love this movie the way I love Children of Men, which is to say, a lot.
Avatar: Beautiful pictures (Pandora at night in 3D? Yes, please). Cheesy dialogue ("I see you"). Unoriginal script occasionally bordering on the ridiculous (your Home-Tree is sitting on my Unobtainium!). About forty-five minutes too long (let's bond with another jungle creature). Glad I saw it, but I never need to see it again.
After finishing Zadie Smith's Changing My Mind this past Saturday, I can resolutely proclaim her my Favorite Living Writer. She rocks. She's smart, discerning, funny, careful in her choices but not afraid to dish out just desserts. I love her the most, and so I leave you with some of her (superior) words.
Below, you'll find my five favorite books of 2009 ("of 2009" meaning I read them this year; most of my recent reads were published previously). Choosing just five was painful, but I'm pleased with the final outcome.
"A moment later she found that she was standing in the middle of a wood at night-time with snow under her feet and snowflakes falling through the air. Lucy felt a little frightened, but she felt very inquisitive and excited as well. She looked back over her shoulder and there, between the dark tree-trunks, she could still see the open doorway of the wardrobe . . . 'I can always get back if anything goes wrong,' thought Lucy."