2023: A Year in Books

How do you measure a year? Sunsets? Midnights? Cups of coffee? … Books?

2023 was an excellent year in books.

Given the state of the world (two concurrent wars, political extremism, countless mass shootings, etc. etc.) it’s no wonder most of my favorite reads were works of fiction.

Below are my favorite reads of 2023 (in no particular order):

Happiness Falls by Angie Kim

“Happiness” is one of those books where the pacing is choppy (on purpose, though it never ventures into overzealous literary territory) but you get tidbits of information at just the right time that develop not only the main narrative but a greater, social narrative. The larger narrative is centered on autism, own voices, & what it means to truly communicate (both verbally and non-verbally).

Eugene, our brilliant protagonist, has Angelman syndrome (a non-verbal autism diagnosis). What does this mean? It means Eugene is on the spectrum, able to function in normal life with assistance from parents and trained professionals, but is unable to communicate verbally. But, despite his diagnosis, Eugene has thoughts… many, many cogent, impressive thoughts.

Kim’s author’s note sums it up best: “Whether you’re an immigrant, you stutter, or you have autism, aphasia, apraxia/dyspraxia, or Angelman syndrome — there are so many reasons why you might have trouble speaking, unrelated to the quality of your thoughts.”

A couple of times I questioned whether or not Kim had the credentials to write “Happiness” given that the idea for the story started as she was researching ways to ameliorate her son’s ulcerative colitis. “Happiness” is far from an own-voices read yet Kim infuses characters like Eugene with such intense emotion that I think readers alike will question why there aren’t more neurodivergent characters AND authors in today’s literary world.

Scorched Grace by Margot Douaihy

“Holy Mary, Mother of God. Let the afterlife have central air and hot women.”

Maybe it’s the tortured Catholic high schooler (sorry, Malden Catholic), but “Scorched Grace” is everything I wished it to be when I first read its jacket. A queer, sleuthing nun that smokes and cusses? Sign me up!

Sister Holiday is broken just like the stained glass work mentioned throughout the novel. The fractured pieces fit together perfectly to form a murder mystery that is equal parts savvy and haunting. Holiday fits somewhere between Lisbeth Salander and Velma Dinkley.

Initially, some of the flowery prose slowed me down, but as I got a feel for the voice of Sister Holiday (and our omniscient narrator), I realized it was pushing me to see the world through a new lens. There’s a certain raunchiness mixed with effervescent metaphors that got me to think- not necessarily to solve the central who-dun-it but to see the value of religion in a society that so quickly shuns the sinner, the drunk, the addict, the mentally unwell, the “other.”

The setting is transportive. I don’t think I’ve ever felt more immersed in the heart of New Orleans or the sacred space of a convent. Did I just take a trip down memory lane and revisit the cloisters of my Xaverian Brother-imbued youth? Yup. And guess what, it was scary as fuck. But with Sister Holiday at the helm, I knew my inner Judith (of Biblical importance) could slay any and all demons, especially those with two legs, a crucifix, and a bully pulpit.

“That’s how it was to live two lives. In the convent, in the classroom, on stage, you are the flawless avatar, the saint, the superhero. But inside we’re all the same. Hearts that want to belong. Some people would do anything to feel less alone. Haze. Praise. Hate. Decapitate. Whatever.”

All The Sinners Bleed by S.A. Cosby

Fast-paced and action around every corner, “Sinners” is S.A. Cosby at his best.

Titus, the titular character, is a compassionate sheriff who is trying to come to terms with his previous work in the FBI.

Cosby takes from the real world and crafts a stunning, compact Southern cop drama. Some events in the book are lifted straight from the news (the Charlottesville riot, White Lives Matter protests, & Confederate statue debates amongst them). Then there are others (like the surprise twist) that are wholly Cosby.

“Under the mournful pine trees that stood sentry over his mother’s grave he’d sworn that he’d change things. Change himself. He’d seen what the width of the thin blue line could hide, and it sickened him. Almost as much as what he’d done, no matter the provocation, sickened him. He’d run for sheriff with the weight of a promise to a spirit on his shoulders.”

I love that Cosby doesn’t waste time at the end buttoning things up to give readers a happy ending. Heck, it’s up to the reader to piece together the puzzle of the central killings. There’s a much larger story about community that serves as the bedrock for “Sinners,” but it’s the National Sin, and our collective efforts to brush the past aside, that takes center stage and urges readers to think about their privilege- after all, we all bleed the same color.

The Wager by David Grann

With the theatrical debut of “Killers of the Flower Moon” around the corner, “The Wager” is another proof-point of Grann’s knack for bringing oft-forgotten tales of history to life. “The Wager” ranks up there with any of Erik Larson’s books and yet, Grann maintains his flair for bringing voice to marginalized indigenous communities across the globe (in this case, indigenous tribes off the coast of Patagonia in the early 18th century).

One look at the book’s bibliography and you’ll see how much effort Grann put into getting the fabled story of “The Wager Affair” just right. He lets muster books, Admiralty reports, sea ballads, and court-martial testimony paint their own sketch of the stormy seas sailed by the HMS Wager.

“Empires preserve their power with the stories that they tell, but just as critical are the stories they don’t — the dark silences they impose, the pages they tear out.”

The purpose of the British ship’s sailing to find Spanish “galleon” in the Pacific Ocean near Chile was set in motion by a squabble over a pickled ear (no joke). A few preposterous accounts of a merchant captain being assaulted by the Spanish in 1731 spawned a war with the British that killed hundreds of thousands. Even the sheer cost of the Wager’s voyage (some 43 million pounds at the time) couldn’t be justified by the return of the “galleon” treasure (a booty worth 400,000 pounds at the time). In the end, the British Empire wanted control of what the Spaniards had- and they would stop at no amount of subjugation to get it.

I loved the inclusion of small anecdotes about “Grub Street hacks” and the genesis of sayings like “toe the line,” “pipe down,” and “turn a blind eye” (about an admiral’s use of his blind eye to peer through a telescope to avoid seeing the enemy’s surrender). Grann captures life aboard the Wager in such vivid detail, that it’s transportive. Scurvy, tethered hammocks, & the fine mist of the Pacific against the bow of a traveling village of dirty seamen is enough to thank your lucky stars that you’re onshore.

I Have Some Questions by Rebecca Makai

As someone who didn’t enjoy “Believers,” I was hesitant to even pick up “Questions.” I’m glad I did because it’s a complete 180 from “Believers” and cements Makkai’s writing style (for the better).

Bodie’s narrative voice is strong throughout the novel but it’s spiced up in certain scenes where her character reaches a point of influx or “character-defining” moment. For example, there are a couple of chapters where Bodie fumbles the ball on understanding Me Too culture (Should she stay her allegiance to her ex-husband amidst some murky grooming allegations thrown at him on Twitter?). She represents all of us trying to determine what it means to live in a post-Me Too society where our privilege(s) are laid bare.

I loved the setting. If I had to guess, the high school bears a striking resemblance to Tilton Academy in Tilton, NH. The neighborhood Hannaford’s, the short distance to the Manchester airport, the secluded woods vibe, & a history of bright, but not the bright(est) students attending.

There were a couple of times that “Questions” read like “Secret History,” but Makkai dodged full resemblance by not focusing solely on a select group of students and/or faculty (the book is written in a quasi-epistolary format aimed at the antagonist (who we know from the beginning is a teacher at the boarding school)). There’s a rich dark academia cloud over the entire book but it’s not as haunting or oppressive as “Secret.” Perhaps it’s because while the book takes place in 2022, most of the action (at least in Part I) is confined to the early to mid-1990s).

The ending is anything but satisfying and that’s why I love “Questions.” Makkai has no qualms about ending her book by throwing her readers over the cliff with no harness but a little rope.

The Many Daughters of Afong Moy by Jamie Ford

“There’s no going forward without going back.”

Afong May was the first Chinese woman to ever set foot in America. Unfortunately, she was brought from her hometown of Guangzhou to New York City to be exhibited in public as “The Chinese Lady.” Little is known about her life after her popularity waned in the 1840s and she became destitute.

Ford’s novel is a richly colored look at the role of inherited trauma across multiple generations. Epigenetics (or transgenerational epigenetic inheritance) is not an easy topic to tackle but Ford does so with pure craft. The progeny of Afong Moy are all beautifully brought to life and based either around historical events (like the Flying Tigers of WWII, and the Barbary Plague in San Francisco) or real people. At its heart, “Daughters” is a book about a woman trying to reconcile her past to show up better for her daughter in the present.

“Dorothy remembered what Dr. Shedhorn had said about scorecards and echoes. How each generation is built upon the genetic ruins of the past. That our lives are merely biological waypoints. We’re not individual flowers, annuals that bloom and then die. We’re perennials. A part of us comes back each new season, carrying a bit of the genus of the previous floret. If true, then Dorothy feared for what Annabel’s life might become without her, but also as hard as it was to admit-with her.”

Our past informs our future. If we take the time to digest our past in full, we will save a lot of heavy lifting for generations to come. The heavy work of making peace with our past only happens when a single familial offshoot decides to recognize it. The past is knocking, are you listening?

Remarkably Bright Creatures by Shelby Van Pelt

A giant Pacific orange octopus and a seventy-year-old widow meet. What could go wrong?

Van Pelt’s uncanny ability to bring life to Marcellus, a lovable orange octopus, is sublime. Marcellus’ observations from his aquarium tank deserve their own Netflix show. It’s “Finding Nemo” meets the best of “Backman.” The prose is well cut and the pacing is addictive. It’s also my favorite read of 2023.

“Thousands of genes mold an offspring’s physical presentation, and many of these pathways are as clear to me as letters on a page are to you. For one thousand, three hundred and twenty-nine days of this wretched captivity, I have honed my observations. In that particular case of the sporting son and his quarterback-cuckold guardian, the list of traits would be too long to name here, but: the shape of the nose, the shade of the eyes, the precise position of the earlobe. The inflection of the voice, the gait. Ah, the gait! That is always an easy tell. Humans walk alike (or, in this case, unlike) far more than they realize.

Our Wives Under the Sea by Julia Armfield

“Our Wives” is a truly unique and engrossing novel that builds tension methodically but with an ease that’s equal parts clever and terrifying.

Given the recent news of the Titanic submarine disaster, “Our Wives” offers a new take on these underworld missions by people who believe the ocean holds the secrets to humanity’s longevity. You won’t find billionaires on this oceanic voyage.

The dueling narrative structure was perfect- though the character acts didn’t match fully, I felt the pain of our sapphic lovers in a world where “their” love isn’t always fully recognized or appreciated. The submarine mission could easily be an allegory for the government’s (“the centre”) blasé attitude toward the lives of LGBTQ+ folks.

Armfield beautifully probes topics like PTSD, survivor’s guilt, and depression. These 200 pages are literary gold.

“To stamp a limit on even the most tedious of things — the number of times you have left to buy a coffee, the number of times you will defrost the fridge — is to acknowledge reality in a way that amounts to torture. In truth, we will only perform any action a certain number of times, and to know that can never be helpful. There is, in my opinion, no use in demanding to know the number, in demanding to know upon waking the number of boxes to be ticked off every single day.”