On the suggestion of Dublin Opinion, there follows a selection of some of the books I most enjoyed this year. They are in no particular order, and I jot them down only from memory, so I may have left out something amazing which has but briefly slipped my mind. I also have included books that are not quite recent, but merely recent-ish. Partly from a fondness for paperbacks and partly from parsimoniousness, I am not a big reader of hardbacks, and consequently am rarely fully up to date with what’s going on in the world of books. My apologies then if my books of the year are not, in fact, of the year at all.
Though none of it’s constituent volumes actually came out this year, I would be remiss if I didn’t mention Neal Stephenson’s Baroque Cycle. Though he’s best known as a science fiction writer, this vast trilogy is more a work of historical fiction about science, with Gottfried Leibniz and Isaac Newton amongst the more prominent characters. Funny, erudite and often thrilling (many nights I was kept up way past bedtime by a compulsion to know what happened next) it was a good friend to me for much of this year.
On the topic of swashbuckling, Arturo Perez-Reverte’s Captain Alatriste is a 17th Century Spanish swordsman with a taste for wine and poetry, and a character who will likely be around for some time to come. Volume two of his adventures came out in paperback not long ago. When not churning out plays, poetry, history and philosophy, Voltaire led a rather raffish life too, and Voltaire Almighty documents his trips in an out of prison, exile, royal favour and women’s beds with gusto.
Robin Lane Fox’s The Classical World, ideally for a relative newcomer like myself, is a one-volume history from Early Greece to Rome under Hadrian; Persian Fire by Tom Holland focuses in fine style on one of the turning points of that period, the Persian Wars.
I mentioned Al Alvarez’s The Writer’s Voice some time ago, and though it’s a slim volume, it told me much about reading and writing which will not be forgotten. I’ve already re-read it once, and will undoubtedly do so again.
Finally, I note that Dave Eggers’ short story collection “How We Are Hungry??? (the particular paperback edition in my posession at any rate) bears a 2006 publication date. What’s fascinating in all his work is the tension between cleverness and sincerity. On the one hand he displays that air of ironic detachment commonly associated (in the minds of the media at least) with his generation. On the other, he sees the dead end that such detachment can lead to, and searches, often awkwardly and naively for a sincere political or emotional voice. Still too clever by half, he’s nonetheless a fascinating and entertaining read.
That’ll do it for now. My music of the year to follow sometime between now and January.
4 Comments
If Diana Backseat comes over here and finds you’ve been reading Perez-Reverte, it won’t be pretty.
I’ve kind of hated Eggers in a very reactionary way, so your remarks above are very helpful. While I cordially dislike irony in art too, I still find his naif (enthused) tone grating as hell. I don’t think he has legs in the long run either even if he is doing his contemporaries a useful service.
But I guess that’s not the point.
Those McSweeney books are beautiful as fuck though.
I’m not above the reactionary anti-trendy dislike of Eggers either, but I suspect he has more legs than any of his imitators. How much (how many? Only two surely?) remains to be seen, but the voice that emerges from the ironic/naif stuggle seems to me one that defines the times. Whether that’s enough is a different matter
I’ve only read Egger’s Heartbreaking work of blah blah.. and didn’t like it. Far too clever and knowing. The whole feel of the book annoyed me.
Robin Lane Fox’s The Classical World, ideally for a relative newcomer like myself, is a one-volume history from Early Greece to Rome under Hadrian.
On reading that, I thought, “Oh! I’ll have a bit of that, if you don’t mind.” A trip into Waterstones was planned for today. The plan became redundant when, later last night, I found the book in a Hodges Figgis bag next to my bed, along with three other untouched books and a receipt dated September 21st.