Oh, hi there! Yes, it’s been a year since I’ve posted anything, although I’ve continued sending out the monthly newsletter (check out back issues here). Writing has not been a priority this year. It simmers gently on the back burner, and every once in a while I give it a stir. Sometimes it looks like something’s about to happen, but it just keeps simmering away, and I turn my attention elsewhere.

But I’m here to report on my 2021 in reading. I read 110 books, a little fewer than I did the last few years. I stopped updating my Goodreads account in the fall and have been using StoryGraph instead. (You can be my friend although the social aspects are minimal so far.) I do miss Goodreads but it did prompt me to track some reading stats on my own.

Here are a few of those stats: 94 of the books I read were fiction, 16 nonfiction; 88 written by women, 22 by men; 37 published before 1999, 44 between 2000 and 2019, and 29 in 2020 or 2021. I think that’s a good balance: I read a lot of newly or recently published books, but I’m also getting to the backlog of books I’ve been meaning to read for ages and taking time to reread favourites. Fifteen of the 110 were rereads, notably Persuasion by Jane Austen, The Pursuit of Love and Love in a Cold Climate by Nancy Mitford, the first five Harry Potter books (read along with the Harry Potter and the Sacred Text podcast), Jane and Prudence by Barbara Pym, and two Dorothy L. Sayers books: Busman’s Honeymoon and Thrones, Dominations.

It’s always hard making this list, let alone deciding how many to include. I’m not judging what books are good or expecting that others will enjoy them too. These are the books that gave me the best reading experience, that stuck with me afterwards, that are worth remembering. (Links below mostly go to bookshop.org, where you can choose an independent bookstore to support with your purchase. Only available in the US, UK, and Spain for now.)

Lonesome Dove by Larry McMurtry, a Western epic about two former Texas Rangers and their crew driving cattle from the Rio Grande to Montana in the 1870s. The characters are wonderful, their adventures are exciting and horrifying, and the prose rides along at a friendly, steady clip, like a trusty horse. I could hardly stop reading once I started and always looked forward to picking it back up. I’ve continued the series with the first prequel, Dead Man’s Walk.

Mating by Norman Rush is the kind of experience where it’s hard to articulate what’s so great about it. A female anthropology student follows a male anthropologist to a remote village where he has created a sort of matriarchal experiment in the Kalahari desert. There is a lot of talking, a lot of insistence on intimacy, a lot of things that went over my head. It was so good I’ll be reading it again.

The Sentence by Louise Erdrich includes some very recent events although it was published just this fall. It features a version of the author’s bookstore in Minneapolis (and, briefly, the author herself). The second half of the book takes place during the early days of the pandemic and during the George Floyd protests. It’s about ghosts and trauma and identity and books.

In Craft in the Real World, Matthew Salesses shows how the usual method of teaching writing limits the potential of writers. It focuses mostly on the writing workshop specifically, but it’s a refreshing contrast to other writing craft books. It includes some great ideas and exercises to steer the teacher and the writer in productive directions.

Binstead’s Safari by Rachel Ingalls is a wonderful novel about a woman who travels with her husband first to London and then to Africa and is completely transformed, in more ways than one. It’s bizarre and unnerving but funny and engaging too.

Reading Second Place by Rachel Cusk was such a delight, but not at first. I read the first page a few times when it arrived from the library, but couldn’t get into it. Only when faced with the impending due date did I get drawn in, and then I was hooked. (This is a great benefit of library books. I’m more likely to give a book a chance when faced with returning it than when I buy a copy of my own and can read it whenever, which might mean never.)

The Secret to Superhuman Strength by Alison Bechdel is her third graphic memoir, this time about her obsession with fitness trends, about the flow state and enlightenment, about her relationships, and about the process of writing. I loved it.

A few other notables: Beautiful World, Where Are You by Sally Rooney, Beloved by Toni Morrison, The Portable Veblen by Elizabeth McKenzie, The Book of Form and Emptiness by Ruth Ozeki, the Wayfarers series by Becky Chambers, the Farseer Trilogy by Robin Hobb, Ghosts of the Tsunami by Richard Lloyd Parry, Detransition, Baby by Torrey Peters, and Open Secrets by Alice Munro.

I have no reading goals for 2022 other than to keep doing what I’m doing. Reading whatever feels right, multiple books at a time, returning to favourites when I start feeling stuck. Maybe I’ll read less to make more time for writing, but I hope to make that time in other ways.

In a shocking twist none of us could have ever expected, I read nearly the same number of books this year (130) as I did last year. A few were rereads (13). A handful were published before I was born (31). Some BIPOC authors (33) but most were white. Mostly fiction (84). Mostly lady authors (90).

The list below is in no way scientific, objective, or thorough. I no longer give star ratings on Goodreads, for reasons that are probably silly, which makes this process a bit more difficult. At this point in the year, I have a dim memory of how I felt upon finishing all those books, so all I have is imperfect recall to tell me which I loved the most. Honestly, looking at the whole list, there were a few books I’d totally forgotten. At the same time, I could’ve included in the list below many other books that were excellent, but these are the ones that at this moment in time stand out as the best.

Very few of the books on this list were actually published in 2020. If you’re looking for new books, NPR’s Book Concierge is a great place to start.

And a reminder: It’s okay if you didn’t read this year.

Here’s my list, in no particular order:

Middlemarch by George Eliot gets top billing here, naturally. An epic on small lives. Definitely one of my favourite books ever. I first read it sixteen years ago, so it was past time to reread from beginning to end.

The Queen’s Gambit by Walter Tevis. I read this after watching the Netflix series like everyone else, but the thing I love about the novel (other than the fact that it is a tight and beautiful work of fiction) is how Tevis makes all the chess bits so enjoyable to read even if you don’t know much about the game. I’m working on a novel that needs some of that (not about chess; a different game) and I needed to read this.

Parable of the Sower and Parable of the Talents by Octavia E. Butler were incredible reading this year in particular, although I’d read the first book just last year. The message of Earthseed is both a balm and a hearty slap to the face. Listening to the podcast Octavia’s Parables alongside reading was a blessing, and I can’t wait for them to begin on the second book next year.

All Quiet on the Orient Express by Magnus Mills is lean and absurd. A bloke on vacation in a tiny town gets roped into doing odd jobs when summer holidays end and somehow never leaves. It goes nowhere and is very repetitive and should be deeply frustrating but instead it’s just delightful.

Mrs. Bridge and Mr. Bridge by Evan Connell were amazing. Spare prose and a spare narrative, but with depth. Both wife and husband lead agonizingly empty lives without realizing it. Dreadful and beautiful.

My Name is Lucy Barton and Olive, Again by Elizabeth Strout. Strout is becoming one of my favourite writers. Clean, sharp prose with well-placed gut-punches.

True Grit by Charles Portis is a classic for a reason. Wonderful characters, wonderful language. Hilarious and heartbreaking.

The Last Draft by Sandra Scofield gave me so many tools for revising my novel. My copy is dog-eared and sticky-noted and not to blame for the fact that revision has been stagnant most of this year.

When Things Fall Apart by Pema Chödrön came at the perfect time this year, for multiple reasons. I’ve been hearing for years how good this book is, and everything they say is true.

A Religion of One’s Own by Thomas Moore got me thinking a lot about my attitude about religion, especially the one I was born into, and spirituality and what all that stuff means. This kind of book usually makes me feel icky, but I’m getting over it.

Vesper Flights by Helen MacDonald is about birds but also humans and borders and nations and history. Mostly short, engaging essays with a clear through-line and a wondering, seeking tone.

Gathering Moss by Robin Wall Kimmerer is a clear precursor to Braiding Sweetgrass, a favourite from last year, and is wonderful in many of the same ways. The meaning of life, the universe, and everything in tiny little plants.

I’ll mention a few other novels I really enjoyed: Flights by Olga Tokarczuk, What are You Going Through by Sigrid Nunez, Girl, Woman, Other by Bernardine Evaristo, Son of a Trickster by Eden Robinson, Invisible Man by Ralph Ellison, Writers & Lovers by Lily King, and Nothing to See Here by Kevin Wilson. Some comfort reads that were there for me when I needed them were Louise Penny’s Inspector Gamache series, Richard Stark’s Parker series, and Doomsday Book by Connie Willis. My favourite romance book this year was a tie between The Roommate by Rosie Danan and Bringing Down the Duke by Evie Dunmore. I could go on but I’ll just end up listing all the books I read this year.

Last year I intended to read fewer books more slowly, read more books I already owned, and read more books published before I was born. I did each of those things a little bit, but not much. I’m not going to set any intentions for 2021’s reading. I hope to be too busy writing to read. I hope to be too busy attending social events with vaccinated friends and family to read. Neither are likely, but something to hope for.