There were so many good reads this year, it’s tough to pick favourites. Let me start by pointing out the missing parts. Not much of poetry in a year that deserved poetry, more than any other form, I think. Vijay Nambisan’s darkly humorous collection First Infinities was the only one I read. Not much of Indian writing in translation either - something I had sworn I would do more of. Qurattulain Hyder’s excellent Fireflies in the Mist was again the only one.
On the other hand, I discovered two delightful English writers I had never heard of before. Barbara Pym in her Excellent Women was wry and enchanting, and so was Elizabeth Taylor (no, not the actress) in Mrs Palfrey at the Claremont. I also managed to finish a big, big Russian book (on my journey to read big, big Russian books) - And Quiet Flows the Don. As usual, anything Russia intrigues me.
And so onto picking my favourites for the year, out of the 54 I read, in no particular order.
Non-fiction:
Languages of Truth: Essays (2003-2020). By Salman Rushdie
Very erudite, very opinionated, Rushdie is as usual, fabulous, making even the novels of Samuel Beckett sound interesting.
Priestdaddy. By Patricia Lockwood
I love memoirs, and this one is truly a great one about growing up Catholic with a priest for a father!! Lockwood’s brilliant writing was a revelation, and she can make even the most horrific scenes laugh-out-loud funny.
A Short History of Nearly Everything. By Bill Bryson
Bryson condenses centuries of scientific knowledge about our cosmos into a 600 pager, imbuing it with his characteristic sense of curiosity and awe, all embellished with that humour we all know him for.
Vesper Flights. By Helen McDonald
A wide ranging selection of essays showcasing the wonder of all things wild. The writing is absolutely exquisite - this is nature writing at its best
Under a White Sky: The Nature of the Future. By Elizabeth Kolbert
Kolbert follows up her The Sixth Extinction with this one, about people trying to heal the earth that is being destroyed by people. It’s not a pretty picture, there are no silver bullets and it is a scary read. But Kolbert is spellbinding, as usual.
At Large and at Small: Familiar Essays. By Anne Fadiman
A superbly eclectic collection of intimate, clever essays written with that incredibly difficult-to-achieve lightness of touch. Informs and delights in equal measure.
Fiction:
Writers and Lovers. By Lily King.
A coming-of-age tale of a late bloomer. There is sorrow and longing and passion and staying true to one’s self when all around you are taking the easy way out. A simple tale, lightly told.
The Vanishing Act of Esme Lennox. By Maggie O’Farrell
O’Farrell has become one of my favourite novelists of all time. This one has her trademark Gothic intensity and is about deep family secrets and tragic early twentieth century asylum horror. A bittersweet read.
Whereabouts. By Jhumpa Lahiri
A splendid little book about nothing and everything, Lahiri describes the rich inner monologue of a single, unmarried woman as she goes about her life in an Italian city.
Jorasanko. By Aruna Chakravarti
About the Tagore family and its women as they evolve from a generation of child brides in purdah to becoming social reformers, novelists, freedom fighters. A fascinating look at a way of life in an upper class Brahmin household during the Bengal Renaissance.
Asoca: A Sutra. By Irwin Allan Sealy
A first person fictional narrative of one of India’s greatest kings. Sealy creates some finely etched characters as he sticks to the broad narrative arc we all know. It is an intimate portrait he paints, of a man and the times he lived in.
There were many more books and writers I could go on about - Francis Cha’s If I Had Your Face, Girish Karnad’s memoir This Life at Play, Brian Dillon’s fabulous Suppose a Sentence, Colin Thubron’s travelogue To A Mountain in Tibet, Maggie O’Farrel’s The Hand That First Held Mine… but then this would no longer be a listicle.
And so we move onto 2022. What do I hope for? More poetry, more classics, more books in translation. Today is the first day of the rest of the year. Let’s start.
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