A round up: my 5 star reads from 2023
And the unexpected joy of keeping a reading journal
For my birthday last year, my sister give me a reading journal. It was a beautiful gesture but as I flicked through its pages, the tables, sections, star ratings, and subheadings sent butterfly-wings of mild panic fluttering around my stomach.
A section titled ‘Quotes’ made me feel like there’s a ‘correct’ way to engage with what I’m reading and while the journal prescribed eight lines for my ‘Review and Thoughts’ about each book, I often want to free write two pages of loosely connected, stream-of-consciousness thoughts, opinions, and emotional responses.
The same amount of space - eight lines - is ring-fenced for a ‘Summary’ of the book, but that only made me wonder why I’d want to write a summary when the book itself is there, sitting on the shelf above my desk, with its own perfectly formed blurb. Was I supposed to copy out the blurb? That seemed weird. If I didn’t copy out the blurb, was I supposed to write my own summary? God, I really coudn’t be arsed to do that. But if I didn’t fill in the summary, was I getting it wrong, again? If there were no quotes I wanted to copy out, was I doing it wrong, again again? If I had no ‘Other notes’, was I doing it wrong, again again again?
Faced with such ambiguity, the nervous flutter in my stomach turned into a tsunami of really-fucking-unimportant-but-somehow-impossible-to-ignore questions that washed through my brain, carrying away any semblance of rationality and leaving only a swirl of overwhelm until I flung the journal aside.
My life is littered with similarly abandoned planners, notebooks, and diaries that have promised order, but only delivered restriction and panic. I genuinely expected this reading journal would join them but in fact, it’s been a revelation.
I discovered I can cross out the subheadings, ignore them, write over multiple pages when I want to, and use it however suits me because it’s my book journal. The subheadings and sections are suggestions not natural laws.
I’m laughing as I write this because it’s so bloody obvious and also happens to be the exact process I take writers through when they come to me for help with using social media. We identify what prescribed approaches are not working for them, and we bend them to suit who they are, or sometimes throw them in the bin and replace them with something else…
Since this totally-average-epiphany the ritual of writing the title and author at the top of a new entry, ticking the genre, and filling in the box that asks for the date I start reading, has added an extra layer of pleasure to my reading. I love coming back to add in my thoughts and reflections once I’ve finished.
And on a more practical note, the existence of this record has also made writing this round up a lot easier that it usually is ;-)
In order of reading, these are some of my 5 star reads of 2023:
The Seawomen by
I opened the year listening to this on audiobook and oh my god what a way to start. Pretty much all of my favourite themes make an appearance - think feminism, patriarchy, and rebellion - and the characters are complicated, flawed and heroic. It’s not a cheerful read - the plot is as brutal as the weather and landscape it takes place in - but the ending is hopeful enough, without being too neat. It’s one I want to read again.
Twelve Moons by
Caro’s descriptions of the Northumberland coastline and skies are heart-splittingly beautiful and explain why Twelve Moons is often positioned as nature writing, but I found something else amidst its pages. The tempestuous landscapes that surround where she lives felt allegorical at times for the more domestic obstacles and elements that she must battle in order to secure the care her daughers needed during a year that cleaved apart our already broken public services. I marvelled at the painterly quality of Caro’s prose, cried at the multiple injustices her family have endured, and raged against the systems that deny Caro and her family their rightful places in society.
Things We Do Not Tell The People We Love by
This collection of deceptively simple short stories examines the unsaid in intimate relationships, in the complex dynamics that can exist between mothers and daughters, romanic partners, or husbands and wives. Several of the stories have stayed with me, despite it being many months since I last read them - the ending of Summer still haunts me (I literally screamed); the mother in Waterlogged could have been written for me; the tensions between cultures explored in Foreign Parts felt relevant to my own family; the lack of awareness of the mother in Too Much was familiar and tragic; and the devastating emotional landscape of The Wishes still lingers.
Soundings by
When I picked up Doreen’s book I thought I going to learn about whales. To be fair I did (!) but I also heard a battle cry for climate justice, and was stirred by a tender love story. Cunningham’s love for the landscapes she describes, the culture she finds herself welcomed into and its people, the whales, her son, and (perhaps) even herself uplifted and energised me. My heart felt full to overflowing every time I picked it up and I dragged out the last few pages, reading some passages more than once because I didn’t want to let it go. I wrote a longer review on Instagram - tap on the pic below to read it.
I am, I am, I am by Maggie O’Farrell
I know, I know, I know ;-) I’m extremely late to this party, but oh my god. If you’re not familiar with O’Farrell’s memoir, it takes the shape of a series of discreet stories from throughout her lifetime, all of which describe various brushes with death the writer has experienced. The first story made me gasp and physically recoil; the last story -Daughter - made me cry in a deep, fleshy way, leaving my stomach aching and lungs scoured.
Station Eleven by Emily St John Mantel
It’s a long time since I’ve read an entire book in 24 hours but this book had me in a chokehold. When I posted about it on Instagram I found out it was a smash hit in 2014, something that completely passed me by. My excuse is I was deep in early parenthood, and pregnant with my son; apocalyptic dystopian fiction was not top of my agenda. The story is fast-paced and punchy, but does not neglect it’s characters, or world-building. It also has a satisfactory ending, something I’ve noticed is often neglected in dystopian fiction, as though the writers run out of steam and can’t quite deliver on the promises made in the first half of their stories. I’ve been reading a lot of dystopian fiction as research for my own novel, and this really is a Best In Class example of the genre.
A Girl Is A Half-Formed Thing by Eimear McBride
Form-bending, sentence-melting, brutal, astonishing are the words I’ve written in my journal. It’s been on my bookshelf, unread, for years as when I bought it I found its style intimidating and overwhelming. I’m so glad I came back to it when my mind had more space to fall into its rhythms, to be carried away by its momentum, because it’s absolutely incredible. If you enjoyed Anna Burns’ Milkman, I think you’ll enjoy this, not because they’re both Irish, but because they both explore the lives of teenage girls who’re willing to try anything to impose some order on the chaos they find themselves surrounded by and subjected to.
The Marriage Portrait by Maggie O’Farrell
I find historical fiction a difficult genre that often does not ‘speak’ to me so it was with a little trepidation that I picked up this hugely hyped book. My interest was piqued because I used to teach the Browning poem, My Last Duchess to reluctant GCSE students without really ever considering the subject of the portrait - an imbalance O’Farrell seeks to - and imho, succeeds in - redressing. The historical setting is not over-bearing and O’Farrell’s skillful handling of the ‘feminism’ in the story does not heavy-handedly impose modern standards onto this fictional history.
My BOOK OF THE YEAR, Dreamland by
Since I read this book I’ve been recommending it to anyone who will listen. A class-critical, queer love story, set in a dystopian climate-crisis hit corner of Kent I’m familiar with? Take. My. Money. The world it describes is ugly and brutal, but Rankin-Gee’s explorations of love, and the strength of family ties and friendship, stop it sliding into despair. It’s utterly, terribly plausible and yet also absolutely stunning.
Politics on the Edge by Rory Stewart
I am not and will never (EVER) be a Tory, but I’m also uncomfortable with tribalism. I want to at least try to understand what makes those I disagree with think the way they do; I want to engage in dialogue and find out where we meet, rather than constantly seeking to widen the gap. It was in this spirit that I listened to Rory Stewart’s political memoir, and it was actually very good. Lol. Not because I agree with him anymore than I did when it started, but because he did not actually seek to convince me. Instead he lifts the veil on how Parliament runs - a reality as terrifying as it is vindicating - and in the telling maintained at least a pretence of humility and honesty.
Demon Copperhead by Barbara Kingsolver
What is there to say about Demon Copperhead that hasn’t already been said? When I was halfway through reading it a friend asked what I thought. I replied, I’m scared because it’s all going so well. I want to stop reading before it all goes wrong. She said, Trust Barbara and I’m so glad I listened…
Have you read any of these books? What did you think? Have I convinced you to give any of them a try?
So many shared favourites here, and some others to add to my list - thank you! I read a snippet from Station Eleven in a writing exercise the other day and was hooked so I’m now on the hunt for a copy before Christmas!