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.