I’ve already shared a recap of my 2015 in books complete with nerdy pie-charts, but I thought I’d pull together a list of my ten favorite books from 2015. These books may not have received a five-star rating from me when I finished them. Yet these are the books that stuck with me in the days, weeks, and months since I finished reading them.
The list below includes three nonfiction titles, two graphic novels, an audiobook, two prize winners, and two “classics”. Quite the range in favorites this The list is arranged in alphabetical order by title with links to my full review, if available.
Betrayal by the Investigative Staff of the Boston Globe
As a resident of Boston and someone who briefly worked in journalism, I felt compelled to see “Spotlight”, a feature film that follows the Boston Globe‘s reporting of the Catholic Church child-abuse scandal in 2001-2002. The film certainly makes a compelling case for supporting the local paper and, more specifically, the investigative journalists who take months to develop a story rather than the click-bait headlines that seem to be at the forefront of journalism these days thanks to its focus on the reporters and the lead-up to publication.
Of course, the film opened up several questions for me about the fallout post-publication and the pervasiveness of the problem beyond the two priests focused on in the film. This book, which compiles the 600+ articles written on the scandal, provides a succinct overview of the cover-up and the subsequent scandal. It’s incredibly well-written and the complexities of the cover-up from the local parish level all the way to the archdiocese of Boston and Cardinal Bernard Law are easy to follow. I never once felt lost or confounded by the rapid pace of the reporters’ investigation, and am glad I decided to read it after seeing the film, despite the incredibly difficult topic at hand.
Beloved by Toni Morrison
Winner of the Pulitzer Prize for fiction in 1988, this tale focuses on Sethe, a young salve who escaped to Ohio to join her mother-in-law eighteen years ago, and her youngest daughter, Denver, as they live together in the house at 124 Bluestone Road in Cincinnati that is haunted by Sethe’s two-year-old daughter. The death of this daughter has marked every aspect of Denver’s life isolating her and her mother from the community at large and costing her a relationship with her brothers.
So much judgement is wrapped into Sethe’s decision, and it would be easy to recoil in horror like everyone else. Yet Morrison points out that while, slavery and murder are despicable evils in this world, given the choice between the two – given the only choice one has – how can one choose life in slavery over murder? I would not have picked this book up were it not for the Classics Club, and I am so nkful for the push the Club provided. I am still not enthralled with Morrison’s writing style, but I was (and remain) enthralled with the questions Morrison’s novel raised about choice and freedom.
A Bride’s Story by Kaoru Mori (Volumes One – Six)
I have been deeply remiss in not blog about a single one of the graphic novels in this series. Mori’s historical manga is set during the late nineteenth century and follows the arranged marriage between a young woman in her twenties named Amir and a boy eight years her junior named Karluk. Amir’s family fortune had declined, and the marriage was meant to save the family from the cost of supporting her. In one of the later volumes, Amir’s brother decides to come for Amir, and the young woman must decided between her family and her new husband. Other volumes are devoted to the women of Amir’s new family, including a very mischievous set of twins named Laila and Leyli who are determined to find wealthy men to marry.
It’s difficult for me to explain exactly what I love about this series — the historical setting, the exploration of a nomadic culture I’m unfamiliar with, the way Amir and Karluk’s relationship evolves across the six volumns (nothing gross, I promise), Mori’s elaborate drawings. Having discovered the series in March 2015, I’ve since reread the series twice now. And each time another volume in this series is published, I submit a purchase request at the public library and practically stalk its delivery date online so I can be first to read the book. The seventh volume needs to hurry up and make it’s way to the shelves!
One of the ideas generating a lot of buzz both within the publishing and the entertainment industries is this idea of “strong women”. This idea that women should be kick-ass, superhero leads with female friendship that transcend discussing boys. In other words, more representative of woman in real life. And, of course, I agree with this idea and long to see more of characters like this. Yet what I love about Hardy’s work is that Bathsheba — strong, independent, and level-headed Bathsheba — is allowed to be multifaceted.
With this novel, Hardy remains not only one of my favorite writers of the nineteenth-century but of all time. I adore his ability to capture the dialects of his rural settings, to paint such vivid and emotional pictures of where his characters live, and I continue to fall in love with the female characters he places at the forefront of his novels.
Winner of the 2015 Giller Prize, Alexis’ short novel involves the Greek gods Hermes and Apollo visiting a dog kennel near Toronto and gifting the fifteen dogs there with consciousness. Each of the fifteen dogs responds differently to this gift, and it was such a delight to imagine how my own dogs would have reacted to this gift. More over, though, the novel is a deeply philosophical tale most closely related to William Golding’s Lord of the Flies, and I was left with numerous questions from Alexis’ microcosms of aggression with the events of human society today. Is society doomed to turn violent, to reject expressions of love and compassion? Are we doomed to die unhappy because we are aware of the loves and lives we’ve lost and are capable of feeling futile in the face of dominant codes of conduct within society?
The parallels between the political climate of Israel in 1995 and today’s presidential election in the United States — the comparisons of politicians to Nazis, the demand for a whole group of people to deported based solely on religion — would be difficult to miss, although Ephron never explicitly calls them out. More importantly, though, I think the book helps to explain why the peace process died and why Israel has continued to elect such right-wing politicians in recent years.
Ephron says at the beginning of his book that it would be impossible to determine if peace would have come had Rabin lived. The escalating violence, including the capture and murder of several Israeli Defense Force members, damaged the public’s perception of the peace process. But the mounting rhetoric and the vacuum left by his death within his party and in the left-wing of Israeli politics brought the settlers’ perception to the forefront of Israeli politics.
Like many who read solely in English, the announcement that Modiano won the 2014 Nobel Prize for Literature left me a bit confounded. I have never heard of the author and never, to my recollection, seen a review for his work on one of the many book blogs I religiously read. This collection of three short stories was the only work by Modiano available at the public library, and I am so glad this is the book I started with in my exploration of Modiano’s work.
Each story features an unnamed, male narrator possessing the same voice as the previous story; each story concerns itself with how uncertain our memories can be. And as I moved from story to story, I felt as though the narrator was shedding his skin or donning a costume and asking me to decide on which version of his life is true. Which is probably why I stayed up so late reading this and why I’m thankful these three previously published novellas were compiled into a single volume. (If I had to rank the novellas, I would say their order of publication matches my ranking in terms of enjoyment.)
As the only member of his family born in the United States, Tran grew up largely indifferent to the experience of his immigrant family in Vietnam and how they came to the United States following the fall of Saigon in April 1975. Tran decides to return to Vietnam in April 2008 with his parents after much prodding on the part of the his mother and a decisive edict from his stereotypically stern and distant father, and this comic documents the experiences of his parents, grandparents, and uncle during decades of colonial rule and civil war.
One of the things this book has going for it is both the reader and the author are in the unknown, both are exploring Tran’s family history and the larger history of Vietnam together for the first time. The intrigue and the wonderment are shared emotions, and there were multiple times where I, too, wanted to yell at Tran’s parents to stop being so evasive with explaining their life stories. And I also appreciated how Tran’s comics exposed me to a region of the world and a portion of history I know very little about. I enjoyed the opportunity to linger over a particular panel and marvel over how perfectly Tran managed to capture such a dramatic moment through his use of color, shadows, and imagery.
I would not have expected a crime novel to have such a dreamy feeling to it. Creepy, yes, but the tone taken in this novel places in a rather odd position between crime novel and psychological thriller. On the very first page, Mary Katherine introduces herself, informs the reader that she is a fan of Amanita phalloides, and states in a matter of fact manner that everyone else in her family beside her sister is dead. She appears to be cold, distant coping with this loss and the marginalization of her family by created a new, more structured order.
Yet there is something innocent about her presentation of the villagers and her attachment to her cat, Jonas; something introspective and whimsical about the way she views her life and hammers expensive family heirlooms to trees. My book club spent nearly two hours discussing and dissecting this novel, which is a remarkable considering we usually spend thirty minutes on the book and an hour on everyone’s personal lives.
I was muffling my laughter on the flight back home as I listened to this book because Poehler is funny in a self-deprecating, I’m-a-nice-girl-until-you-piss-me-off kind of way that makes you really want to be her And she manages to sneak in these insights that are only really digestible when wrapped in humor.
I wasn’t expecting to have a personal revelation about my own life whilst listening to this book yet Poehler’s metaphor about treating your career like a bad boyfriend was surprisingly profound for me. She interjected just enough humor that I could laugh as I contemplated, that I could evaluate my own life without feeling as though I was being lectured to and that, ultimately, is what made listening to this book on audio such a great experience for me and why I’m glad I decided to say “yes please” to something I ordinarily would not pick up.