Top Ten Books of 2013

Because a few things got in the way, I was only able to read 82 books this year, 19 shy of my goal of 101 books each year. But I made up for it by reading what are probably some of my favorite books of all time, and a lot of them were released this year! I’ve split it up into two lists, with authors I’ve read before and authors I haven’t. Here’s to another 101 in 2014.

New authors:

10. A Moment in the Sun by John Sayles: This 950 page monstrosity about a disparate group of people living in and around the time of the Yukon gold rush is as rich as it gets. It gets violent, introspective and epic, and there is a lot for a bibliophile to chew on as you plow through McSweeny’s thick paperback. Be sure to pick this one up with both hands.

9. A Hologram for the King by Dave Eggers: A mixture of Waiting for Godot and Death of a Salesman create what is easily Dave Eggers’ most accessible, and probably best work, having only read a few short works. There are moments of great truth in this book, where Eggers gets right to the heart of human desire, no matter the age of the person. And it’s entertaining as well. 

8. What I Loved by Siri Hustvedt: Because she is married to Paul Auster, it’s unavoidable to compare to him, but I don’t feel like that is a bad thing. This book about two men whose relationship with each other perverts itself through each of their sons feels like a long-lost Auster novel. It has the same sense mystery, twists and emotional revelation as his early period. And even though the events are dark, I still feel great warmth when I read it.

7. All Souls by Javier Marias: A new international author to love in the way that I love Bolano. He takes a tired subject, the campus novel, and injects it with the same kind of oddball, scatter-shot storytelling that made Bolano’s thick novels so great. It’s a short read, barely a hair over 200 pages, and they go by quick.

6. The Yellow Birds by Kevin Powers: The best war novel I have ever read. It’s a deeply poetic and viscerally violent look at war through the eyes of a young man filled with regret. But not regret at the people he has killed, but the people he has let down. It is a personal story that shines a light on bigger issues, which is what literature is supposed to do.

5. The Man in My Basement by Walter Mosley: Leave it to an author like Mosley to give readers the most unique look at race relation in the past quarter century. It takes hot button topics and places them in a narrative that would be at home in a Rod Serling show. It manages to be creepy yet never lets go of the gravity of what it is trying to say about guilt.

4. The Dinner by Herman Koch: This is the most gleefully cynical book I read all year. Over the course of one dinner and 300 pages, we find out the levels that people will go to protect their own, even when they deserve to be tossed to the wolves. With a cool twist about who is really telling the story (which I won’t reveal), this book deserved to be a bestseller and the subject to many water-cooler conversations.

3. Big Breasts and Wide Hips by Mo Yan: Despite the goofy title, this novel is a near masterpiece in epic storytelling. Through the misfortunes of one woman and her unfortunate offspring, who fall victim to the tides of violent change, Yan captures a certain kind of Japanese identity that exists in his country. But I really don’t care about that. It’s just an old-fashioned, long patient kind of storytelling reminiscent of the best of John Irving that makes this book, and his author, so important.

2. The Sound of Things Falling by Juan Gabriel Vasquez: To compare someone to Bolano again, this is a horror novel of the highest order, but a more cerebral one, with real-life atrocities taking the place of the supernatural, which is all the more frightening. Vasquez captures a culture of fear that infected Columbia under the iron rule of drug kingpin Pablo Escobar. It wasn’t just a war on drugs, it was a war on people, and it is no less scary than Bolano’s Santa Theresa or Stephen King’s Derry, Maine.

1. Rivers by Michael Farris Smith: The best new author I’ve read in awhile, as well ad the best debut I have come across in years. A unique kind of post-apocalyptic setting is presented here, one that is filled with epic weather changes in the Gulf of Mexico and an ocean of rain falling from the sky. In it is one lone man who must trek to the border somewhere near Tennessee. On the way he becomes a savior to a group of captured, pregnant women, which only bring up memories of his tragic past. A suitcase full of money, and plenty of bloodthirsty men willing to kill for their own salvation fill this epic tale of redemption. It comes with my full seal of approval.

Old authors:

10. Donnybrook by Frank Bill: Indiana’s own Frank Bill presents a damned wild ride into heartland of America where violence is a form of communication and depravity is a way of life. It is hard to find any moral center in this novel, but it is there if you look for it behind the piles of dead bodies and broken teeth. With the promise of a sequel, I’m in!

9. Clockers by Richard Price: After reading a few unimpressive novels by Price, this was the first one that was a homerun. The story is long, but simple, and focus on two men trying to navigate the hellish landscape of a crime-ridden New York City. The dialogue pops with double entendres and loose metaphors that are music to the reading ears, and a twist near the end forces the reader to ask questions about violence and where it really comes from.

8. Gone, Baby Gone by Dennis Lehane: Another transcendent crime thriller from the best one working today. Unlike his more mature books, like Mystic River and The Given Day, this book is probably his darkest one as well as his most ambiguous, with an ending that questions whether the right thing was done.

7. Ladies and Gentleman by Adam Ross: After the rather confusing Mr. Peanut, Ross gave readers a more straightforward look at dark modern life with this collection of stories. Things like honesty, kindness and good will are all negotiable in the world presented here, as long as something desired sits on the other side of these virtues.

6. Number9Dream by David Mitchell: Another book by an author I had almost written off, this novel balances the creativity with quality, presenting 9, almost spate narratives that build toward the rebirth of our damaged narrator. It will leave your mind racing as well as your heart aching.

5. The Post-Birthday World by Lionel Shriver: A more optimistic look at a subject matter than Shriver’s famous We Need to Talk About Kevin. Through alternating chapters, we see the cause-and-effect of one possible kiss, each of which lead to complications both good and bad, that are unavoidable. It makes a really touching point about the ups and downs of life, and really earns its heartwarming moments.

4. The Savage Detectives by Roberto Bolano: After talking about people who make me think of him, let me talk of the man’s books themselves. With this and 2666, Bolano made a permanent mark on the world that will last for generations. And while 2666 could be about the acceptance of death, The Savage Detectives could be about the celebration of life. But it’s all open to interpretation, but what isn’t are the little stories weaved throughout this epic tale. From a ghost in a mineshaft to an oral sex contest, it’s all crazy, intriguing and full of life, showing us that Bolano’s death in 2003 is one of our young century’s greatest losses.

3. The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt: I don’t think I can wait another 10 years for a new Tartt book Life is too short and she is too good to be so sparse in what she publishes. But I can rest easy knowing that this is her best work. Even at 778 pages, there is not a word wasted, and she provides the same kind of philosophical thriller that she did with The Secret History. It makes you think about the reasons people do things, and why certain objects contain an almost physical memory that the holder clings to even if it sinks them.

2. NOS4A2 by Joe Hill: Another epic 700-page book announces a change in a great writer. Here is the novel that will propel Hill out from under the shadow of his famous father and possibly make him the greatest genre writer of his generation. There is a real maturity in this story not seen in his other books; a real kind of summation of themes that he has been playing with and can now lay to rest and grow as a writer. This is a masterpiece of horror, and what’s better is that it doesn’t signal the end of a career, but a new beginning of one.

1. The Son by Philipp Meyer: The best book I have read since I have started reading seriously back in 2010. While I loved American Rust, Meyer is dealing with something better and grander here. This epic, which spans 150 years and three generations of oil tycoons, takes the idea of America’s founding and turns it on it’s head in a way I have not experienced before. The violence is gruesome, on both sides, and haunts the future generations in a breathtaking and ingenious way, as evidenced by the opening. A real set-in-stone masterpiece I hope gathers a huge following. I am still in awe of this book.  

Review: "The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle" by Haruki Murakami (2013 Re-Review)

This idea of re-reading a book at least once a year really paid off, and I plan to do it again with another book I felt needed a second look. This first time I have ever re-read anything, choosing Haruki Murakami’s second longest novel, The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle; it brought out new ideas and thoughts that didn’t really click with me when I read it back in 2010. I recall I breezed through it, not affording it the time it deserved and needed to be full digested. Now, without the burden of school, I put a lot more focus and energy into taking my time with it. And I’m glad to say that is one of the three pillars that hold up his reputation, the other two being Kafka on the Shore, and his masterpiece, 1Q84. Granted, this is a little more political than I am really comfortable with any writer getting, but no other book Murakami has written so creatively and eloquently addresses the ideas of loneliness, books like South of the Border, West of the Sun and Sputnik Sweetheart have similar themes, but here they are fully formed over the course of 600 pages. And I don’t know why nor can I explain it, but I found the structure this time around, the letters, computer text and newspaper articles, to offer a lot more than just mere fancy wallpaper. At best, they offer some of the books most memorable scenes (more on that), and at worst, they are harmless diversions that don’t cause too much of a headache. The story concerns Toru Okada, who has recently lost his job, as well as his wife’s beloved cat. His complacency is interrupted by the discovery of a well in the alleyway behind his house, and the sudden disappearance of his wife, leaving him alone to traverse a series of odd, sometimes violent occurrence that may not add up, but still act as important guideposts to the answers Toru wants. While it is frustrating at times, leaving these loose threads dangling out in the open even as the ending closes in, in a way he is showing us what is really important; not trying to solve life’s grand mysteries, but instead dwelling on said mysteries which offers up time and energy to make yourself the best kind of person you can be. To give up a certain amount of control and let things be. The same thing can be said about his other two great books, each filled with cool scenes where it doesn’t seem to matter that they don’t link up nicely, because that isn’t what is important. And in re-reading it, I had forgotten some of the things that happened, like the lounge singer whose obsessed with pain, the story of the Japanese Army trying to kill all the animals in the zoo, and the disquieting specter of Noboru Wataya, Toru’s wife’s brother, whose banal evil seems almost supernatural (because it is). But nothing compares to Boris and the scene where he skins a man alive, easily the most violent scene I have ever read. After a closer inspection as an older, wiser reader, I appreciate this novel a lot more, and will hold it more dearly to my heart from now on.

Rating: 5/5

Review: "The Man Who Cried I Am" by John A. Williams

This book, The Man Who Cried I Am, is probably one of the more obscure books I am ever going to review here, and I think that is saying something. I only found out about it through a DVD extra on the documentary Stone Reader, itself a forgotten documentary on lost books. It was always a curiosity to me, having had it in my collection, and after finally reading it I can’t help be a little disappointed in what I have read. The DVD extra had built it up as this great-unsung masterpiece of African-American literature that could stand alongside Native Son and Invisible Man, but it is more like a novel of the 60’s, and not a very good one at that. The ideas it presents are seem so trivial and unimportant that they simply cannot hold a candle to the dark, cynical spirit in Richard Wright’s Native Son. It comes off as more of a Beat Generation book, which isn’t a compliment. The novel follows Max Reddick, a writer who has found himself sitting in a café in Amsterdam waiting for someone. He is desolate and desperate, and we find out why he is such through his dealings with the kind of hardships that a black person has to deal with in a world run by white men. This is where the book succeeds, and, I have to admit, gives it a timeless quality. The racism here isn’t the snarling teeth behind a Klansman hood. It is a much more subtle kind that has seeped into the fabric of modern America, and it is a little harder to get out. But nothing really happens in this book, even when Max must go to Vietnam. I’m not asking for him to kill and cook a white girl, but I wanted to feel a sense of urgency that the book simply didn’t have. You may find something in this book I didn’t. That is, if you ever find yourself reading it.

Rating: 3/5

Review: "Blood Meridian" by Cormac McCarthy

Many times I have said that Cormac McCarthy is one of the most overrated writers in America, and after reading his book Blood Meridian, what many critics say is his best book and best example of his talent, I still stand by that conviction. If anything, this novel proves it. What should have been a simple yet effective story about violence as kind of baptismal sacrament gets overstuffed to the gills with so many archaic words and dry descriptions that it is no wonder that Harold Bloom loves this book so much. It practically reveals in its ancient quality and that it sometimes reads like the worst chapters in the bible. The only really good thing that I can take away from this book is its descriptions of violence, which are quite poetic as described by McCarthy’s prose. It just makes me wish the narrative wasn’t as silly as it. The narrative is very loose, dealing with a young man, referred to only as “the kid” as he runs away from his home life and joins a group of violent outlaws marauding through the Texas-Mexico boarder, with the dangerous and terrifying “judge” a few steps behind them. What the book reminded me most of was Daniel Woodrell’s Civil War novel, Woe to Live On, which contained a similar approach to violence, treating it as a way of life, as something that can happen in an instant and be over with even quicker, leaving no time to mourn. But while the prose in that novel is always delightful and unpretentious, this book feels like you are chewing on sand, using words no one would has heard in centuries to describe a landscape, making the unfortunate gap between dialogue and prose painfully noticeable. Some people, even friends I respect, like him. I simply do not.

Rating: 3/5

Review: "Fall on Your Knees" by Ann-Marie MacDonald

Fall on Your Knees by Ann-Marie Macdonald was a real wild card for me, and it didn’t really pay off. While it does move quickly despite its heft, it handles its heavier themes, such as incest, rape and family secrets in a rather boring way by not focusing all its energy on the narrative. It tries too hard to be fancy with its wording, and Macdonald is just not the writer for this kind heavy-handed themes, which makes me think twice about reading her next book, which is much longer at 800 pages. It really is when Macdonald takes the story outside of the confines of the family structure she has laid out for us that the book becomes rather plodding and tacked on. The characters that seem rather superfluous take on roles that are way to important in moving things along, and their lack of fascination simply can’t keep up with the reader’s attention span. The story focuses on the Piper family, beginning with the love affair of a Lebanese woman and a Canadian man, whose love for each other is violently opposed by the woman’s family, really setting the stage for the kinds of violence and debauchery that will become the legacy of the Piper family through their four daughters; Kathleen, the unloved one, Mercedes, the family martyr, Frances, the self-proclaimed “bad girl”, and Lily, the focus of everyone’s attention who also is the consequence of the darkest secret in the family. Anything involving the family is at least good, even great in the beginning when we see the rift between the mother and family, and the violent act that nearly cripples the father. But once we start getting into other families and the lovers the sisters take, the book completely lost me in how little control it had over the big cast of characters. I might like this book if it was shorter, but the 500 pages made this hard to get through.

Rating: 3/5