2021 Books
16 Favourite Books of the Year:
Les Miserables, Victor Hugo: A justified masterpiece. No rock is left unturned in this unabridged classic, no alley unexplored, no digression un-digressed. It would be maddening were it not for the sheer delight in reading the details Hugo inserts, the unexpected comic moments, the profound or sometimes misplaced conclusions drawn about, for instance, the battle lines of Waterloo, the history of monasteries, the details of a young woman's bedroom, the routine and expenses of a good priest, or the failures of the Parisian sewer system. These are all part of the far-reaching narrative, familiar to many through the musical and movies, that concerns Jean Valjean, Javert, Fantine, Cosette, Marius, Gavroche, the Thenardiers, and the young revolutionaries. One gets an in-depth description of Paris and environs throughout the first third of the 19th century, encompassing revolutions and insurrections and restorations, the police and the poor. The characters are naturally far more rounded out than is possible in the musical production, and all the better for it. Jean Valjean is a challenging, convicting character, and his final scene - in the play, the movie, and now the novel - simply cannot fail to make me weep. An absolute triumph. (July)
The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms, N.K. Jemisin: Book one in the Inheritance Trilogy, Jemisin's inventive story of the gods at war and people as their playthings. The narrative focuses on Yeine, a woman from Darr who becomes one of three possible heirs to the throne of the world, because her mother was the disinherited daughter of the current ruler of the Arameri. Intrigue, murder and conspiracy abound, but of greatest interest is the Enefadi, the defeated gods who have been chained in human flesh and forced to slave for their Arameri prison-keepers. Originally there were Three gods - Sun (Itempi), Moon (Nahadoth) and Twilight (Enefa). They fought and loved each other but held a balance. Enefa created people though, and was eventually killed by the order-loving Itempi. Itempi then enslaved Nahadoth and the godling children for generations, and told the story - passed on by the priests - that Enefa had betrayed them all. At any rate, lots clearly going on there. What Jemisin really adds wonderfully to the fantasy genre, aside from her very descriptive and inventive writing, is an effort to draw from other mythological sources than just Western European medievalism. I will certainly read the rest of this trilogy. (Aug)
The Golem and the Jinni, Helene Wecker: This is a remarkable debut novel from Helene Wecker. Set in New York, 1899, she tells the tale of a Jinni set loose in Little Syria and a Golem who finds herself adrift in a Jewish community in New York. She had been created for a lonely Jewish tradesman in Germany who died whilst in transit to New York. These two are obviously out of place, one in an immigrant Syrian community, the other taken into the care of an elderly Rabbi in an Orthodox Jewish community. Wecker's story is fantastical, of course, but it is also an exploration of the lives of minority communities at the turn of the century, that feeling of being out of place, and especially the question of one's "true nature." Wonderfully written. (June)
Silence and Beauty: Hidden Faith Born of Suffering, Makoto Fujimura: A staggeringly beautiful book by acclaimed nihonga artist Fujimura. He weaves art, his life story, an in-depth exploration of Shusaku Endo’s novel Silence, and the history and culture of Japan together to speak truths about God, suffering, and faith. Best to have read Silence first (and perhaps to have watched the recent movie) so as to understand more of where the book is coming from. I love the description of Japan as a “Christ-hidden” culture, where Christ is shaping the negative spaces into deep beauty. (Jan)
Politics of God; Politics of Man, Jacques Ellul: Whoa, what a book. Ellul never fails to knock me off balance. In this strangely timely book, Ellul examines the prophetic career of Elisha and his interactions with the kings of the day and with the movements of God. His big point is that we are to be seized by the word of God, not to seize the word of God. Prophecy is not to be used for political ends, even well-intentioned politics. In depth, incisive, sometimes shocking, this is a must-read. (Jan)
What Comes From the Spirit, Richard Wagamese: Another beautiful and truthful offering from one of the best writers in Canada. Wagamese, who passed away a few years ago, was a prolific writer, and this book of shorter pieces was compiled from his blog and articles. He dives deep into his own story as an Ojibway man who was taken by the Children's Aid Society when he was two, and only re-discovered his family and culture later in life. He also delves into the things of the spirit, passing on the teachings he received from Elders throughout his life, as well as his own reflections on how to move towards the Creator. (Nov)
The Poisonwood Bible, Barbara Kingsolver: A beautiful, painful book about the disaster of a family led by a disaster of a father trying to bring his understanding of the Gospel to a village in the Congo. It is a novel that every aspiring “missionary” should read to see the damage that can be done, particularly through an ignorant allegiance to white supremacy. The characters are fully realised, and the story is set within the utterly tragic events of the Congo’s brief liberation from Belgium and then subsequent despoiling at the hands of America, mineral companies, and a corrupt despot. (Feb)
Half of a Yellow Sun, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie: Historical fiction centered around 1960’s Nigeria, the time when the Igbo people sought to form the independent republic of Biafra. I had no notion of this conflict at all, it never being even barely mentioned in any of my education, and Adichie does a masterful job of bringing it to light. What I especially appreciate is that she paints a picture – from multiple viewpoints – of life before and during the conflict (which killed millions, largely through starvation). The characters are fully formed, morally imperfect, not simply heroes or villains or noble or ignoble. The book certainly contains a stinging critique of White Western nations and the blame they carry for the disaster, but the sin Adichie highlights is not only systemic. This is a painful yet beautiful book. (Apr)
Between the World and Me, Ta-Nehisi Coates: A punch to the gut. This book, a long letter from Coates to his son about the state of the world, and in particular the threat to his son’s black body, is a must-read. If anyone is still somehow wondering why people are angry, this book will open a door to understanding for you. Coates exorcizes The Dream, the illusion fostered by “people who must believe they are white” that America is ok, just, and a land of equal opportunity. He similarly undermines “The Dream” of black people who believe God will save them, or that being “twice as good” and non-violent will convince anyone to lay down their privileged system. It is a heart-rending book, especially as he describes the death of his acquaintance Prince Jones at the hands of police. While I do not share Coates’ skepticism towards God (and at the end he confesses that perhaps he too is missing something) I receive and appreciate his conviction around the importance of the body now. (Apr)
The Reason You Walk, Wab Kinew: An autobiography by Kinew which focuses especially on his relationship with his father, Tobasonakwut, an Anishinaabe residential school survivor, political activist, spiritual leader and educator. His father’s long journey was wracked with tragedy and horror, but also hope, triumph and forgiveness. The book contains long passages which explain details and significance of the Sundance, naming ceremonies, adoption ceremonies, pipe rituals, and other aspects of Anishinaabe culture that were previously unknown to me. It also speaks meaningfully and at length about the power of language and culture to give meaning and purpose to Indigenous people. The book is full of grace, wisdom and humour. (July)
Planet Narnia: The Seven Heavens in the Imagination of C.S. Lewis, Michael Ward: An extraordinarily delightful and perceptive book, illuminating a synthesizing theme running through C.S. Lewis' Chronicles of Narnia. I have read and re-read the Narniad - and will again now - but Ward's thesis, that Lewis hid the foundational influence of the seven planets within the narrative of the seven books, did not occur to me. At least, not overtly. Yet as Ward lays out his case it seems like Lewis was indeed successful at hiding the planets in plain sight. I have long known one of Lewis' main ideas that it is one thing to look at a beam of light (Contemplation) and yet another thing to look along a beam of light (Enjoyment). For years, then, I have been enjoying the presence of this medieval cosmology within the Narniad, which Lewis baptized into Christian purposes as Spenser, Chaucer and Dante had done before him. Now, with Ward's book, I can also Contemplate this idea. I highly recommend the reading of this book, yet I would suggest a fairly thoroughgoing knowledge of Lewis' work first, especially Narnia and the Ransom trilogy. (Sept)
Refuge Reimagined: Biblical Kinship in Global Politics, Mark and Luke Glanville: An extraordinarily helpful, and even beautiful, book. Brothers Mark and Luke Glanville discuss, from their extensive experiences in theology and political science, the realities of refugees in our current world. They speak to the Church, to nations, to the world, and to individuals and communities, making a plain and persuasive case that we not only can, but should rearrange the way we see and welcome refugees. This is not simply to be “good people” who help those who are in need, nor simply because the Lord commands it. The Glanvilles take the discussion away from the charity model, and even from the strict social justice model, and locate it instead within the understanding of “kinship.” This is a profound and important switch in the way we view our brothers and sisters from around the world. (June)
Caste: The Origins of our Discontents, Isabel Wilkerson: A journalistic journey through the story of Caste in America, as compared and contrasted to the caste system of India and the temporary caste system of Nazi Germany. It is a compelling and troubling picture of the pillars of casteism and the machinations used to keep it in place at all costs. (Apr)
Absence of Mind: The Dispelling of Inwardness From the Modern Myth of the Self, Marilynne Robinson: Marilynne Robinson, one of my favourite writers of both fiction and academic nonfiction, in this book picks up a familiar theme for her: the "para-scientific" diminishing of the human mind. Her complaint, when examining certain modern fields dedicated to strict materialism, is the denial of the mind's own record about itself. Culture, civilisation, philosophy, metaphysics, art, poetry, religion - all of these are swept away as mere delusions or worse self-delusions, and replaced by selfish genes and the pleasure principle - aspects only certain scientists are qualified to ascertain. None of this is an attack on science, which she describes as "not a final statement about reality but a highly fruitful mode of inquiry into it." It is a strident and effective questioning of the definition of terms which presume the non-existence of the mind before bothering to prove it. She cannot see why we should refuse to accept what the mind (soul/spirit) has always said about itself, or at least the questions it has asked of itself, and instead accept an ultimately dualistic view of human materiality which denies our capacity and self-knowledge at almost every turn. (July)
A Short History of Indians in Canada, Thomas King: King’s stories are often laugh out loud funny, which momentarily distracts you from the table-flipping point he is making. Whether he is describing migrating Natives who keep crashing into the sides of tall, glass buildings in Toronto, or a grandson discussing whether or not Europeans are the Borg, Klingons, Romulans, Ferengi, Vulcan, the Federation, or all of them altogether, King has a voice that allows him to cover really difficult topics in subversively acceptable ways. He also writes serious stories in this collection, not all of them centered around Indigenous characters, and many of them discussing the pain of broken families. This is a beautiful, funny and thought-provoking collection. (Sep)
The Analects, Confucius: The wisdom of Confucius on matters such as character, virtue, duty, good governance, learning, nobility and the pursuit of goodness. There is much here that resonates today and would serve any seeker after wisdom well. “A man (sic) without virtue cannot long abide adversity, nor can he (sic) long abide in happiness; but the virtuous man (sic) is at rest in virtue, and the wise man (sic) covets it.” (Dec)
Genres
Sci-Fi/Fantasy:
The Name of the Wind (The Kingkiller Chronicle, #1), Patrick Rothfuss: A very worthy entry in the fantasy genre. It is the story of Kvothe, told by himself to the Chronicler, focusing only on his early life with his family as a touring entertainer, his time homeless after a catastrophe, and his schooling at the Arcanum. It is well told, not simply a typical story of teenage wish fulfillment (though that is there) but with moral ambiguity, loss, mistakes, arrogance, and great ambition. It is a series I might carry on with, though I’m not completely sure yet. (Jan)
The Furthest Station, Ben Aaronovitch: This is part of a series of books, and I have not read the previous ones so it was a little confusing. But I had heard that Aaronovitch wrote in a similar vein to Terry Pratchett so I wanted to check it out. I would put him closer to Gaiman and Tom Holt, and this book (perhaps series) seems to cover some of the same ground as Gaiman’s Neverwhere novel. It is about policemen who specialise in the supernatural, in particular on the Underground lines in London. The writing is well done and comical, a first-person detective gumshoe style that I’m sure would make even more sense if I had read the earlier books. So far, though, I don’t see Aaronovitch using his comedy or horror elements to touch on deeper issues like Pratchett and Gaiman do, which is what sets them apart. (Jan)
The Haunting of Tram Car 015, P. Djeli Clark: Oddly, the second book I read this month about hauntings on public transportation. This one is set in an alternative Cairo in the early part of the 20th century. Egypt has thrown off the British Empire thanks to its relationship with the Djinn, supernatural creatures that have also created a magic-run tram system in the air. Two officers of the Ministry of Alchemy, Enchantments and Supernatural Entities are tasked with a seemingly routine case of a haunting in a tram. The case, predictably, is not so routine. The story is set against the women’s suffrage movement in Egypt, the first in this alternative universe. The two officers are male, but the story is primarily focused on the knowledge, spaces, power and ambitions of women. (Jan)
Rivers of London, Ben Aaronovitch: The first book in the Rivers of London series, and very much like a 21st century Neverwhere. Peter Grant is a rookie police officer and a new apprentice wizard, who has to sort out a sudden rash of murders and face-meltings. He interacts with vampires and personified rivers and actors in order to do so. What sets this book apart is not just the inventiveness but the attention to detail. Very fun reading, and I will certainly take in the rest of the series. (Feb)
The Killing Moon, NK Jemison: Historical, magical fiction based loosely upon the culture of Ancient Egypt, this is the first of Jemison’s Dream Moon series, and it is very good. She posits a world in which there are four dream humours that can essentially be harvested by priest-like characters. These humours can be use for healing, for peace, for prosperity and for magic. A complicated political relationship is established in the story between a nation that eschews such magic, and one that is entirely focused upon it. The Gatherers – those who harvest dream blood from people who are dying (or whom they kill in their sleep, though they do not call it such) also need to collect the dream blood for themselves, or they lose control and become Reapers, monsters who separate body from soul and eat both. The story is centered around one such Gatherer and his apprentice. It makes interesting use of Egyptian culture as well as of Jungian archetypes, particularly of the collective unconscious that we access in our dreams (and permanently, so it is suggested, in our death). (Feb)
The Archive of Alternate Endings, Lindsey Drager: A unique book, on the surface about the visit of Halley’s Comet every 75-79 years; the oral, written, illustrated and then coded version of the Hansel and Gretel story; the AIDS scourge that began killing gay men in the 1980’s; and the coiling shape of spider webs, nautilus shells, aloe plants, spiral galaxies and corneas. But really it is about the love and commitment that exists between siblings, and the way that stories work. The writing is beautiful, the narrative bounces around ten different time periods, and the message is thoroughly meta but also deeply personal. (Mar)
Authority, Jeff Vandermeer: Book #2 of The Southern Reach Trilogy, following after the marvelous and creepy Annihilation. The last expedition into the mysterious Area X has come back (mostly) but they are blank (mostly). Not truly themselves, with no real memories. A CIA op named “Control” is sent to The Southern Reach to sort out what went wrong and what can be done about the invasive area. The novel takes place entirely from Control’s vantage point, as the first novel was from the biologist’s POV. This lends itself to the technique of unreliable narration. Area X affects people’s perception of reality, and both of these books have played on that surrealism and distrust of one’s own senses wonderfully. Authority is a kind of detective novel, but one in which clues make no sense and in which the detective does not even know if he is doing his own thinking. It is not quite as good as Annihilation, but it does serve to carry the very disturbing narrative forward, and Vandermeer is a sublime storyteller. Very eager to read the last book of the trilogy. (Mar)
Children of God, Mary Doria Russell: The sequel to Russell’s groundbreaking novel, The Sparrow. Father Emilio Sandoz, fresh from his return from space and the brutal sharing of his horrific trauma, is beginning to put his life back together. He leaves the Jesuits and begins a relationship. But the Jesuits and the mafia have other plans for him. The story takes us back to Rakhat and goes far more deeply into the politics and social life of the alien society. The humans who were left or who return end up having a massive impact on the Rakhat civilisation. It is yet another powerful exploration of the impact – intentional or otherwise – of contact with new civilisations. (May)
The World for World is Forest, Ursula Le Guin: Part of LeGuin’s celebrated and far-ranging Hainish series. The universe is composed of humans who began millions of years ago on the planet of Hain, and slowly but inexorably seeded planets around the galaxies with humans who developed in their own unique ways. After countless years these worlds began to discover one another across the vast reaches of space and time, still confined though to Not as Fast as Light travel. Leguin uses this construction to examine the different ways human civilisation, culture and biology might develop, and the conflicts and opportunities that might arise when these cultures meet. In The Word for World is Forest, humans from Earth have begun colonizing a previously unreached planet, which has a native species almost unrecognisable as human (at least to humans from Earth). The technological difference is significant, but even more significant is the ability of Athseseans (whom the earthlings call Creetchies and exploit for slave-labour) to dream while asleep and awake. After horrific provocation towards themselves and towards their forests, the native population finds a way to strike back at the Terrans. An excellent exploration of the dangers of colonialism. (June)
The Shobies’ Story, Ursula Le Guin: Another in the Hainish series, this story is LeGuin’s introduction of churten, the idea of instantaneous travel based upon perception. A crew on the spaceship Shobie are tasked with trying the first churten journey. They represent multiple human species and work hard at becoming one familial unit before they travel - something considered essential for churten to work. It does seem to work and they move instantly to a far away planet. But it becomes immediately apparent that their perception of what has happened, and what is happening, is disastrously out of sync. A fascinating idea of interstellar travel that relies on human interaction and perception. Very quantum. (June)
Dancing to Ganam, Ursula Le Guin: Another exploration of the perils involved with the churten experience. Believing that the problems in perception stemmed from having too large and too diverse a community in the first attempt, one lone adventurer - something of a stereotypical “hero” character from Earth - churtens on his own and has no difficulties with perception, at least according to his own story. He then takes a small crew - all from Earth, and each with deep connections - in an attempt to show that the more uniform the crew the more in sync their perceptions will be. What follows is yet another demonstration of the problems of group perception, especially in the face of cultural expectations. (June)
Dead Astronauts, Jeff Vandermeer: One of the strangest stories I have ever read, more to be experienced than understood. It is part of the Borne series by Vandermeer, and it is helpful to have read Borne and The Strange Bird first. The story begins with three astronauts, one of whom is human, the other who used to be human but is now more made up of equations and salamanders, and the third who appears human but is really sentient Moss, kind of. They travel from timeline to timeline, reality to reality, trying to destroy The Company, the organisation responsible for destroying the earth’s ecosystem and loosing bio-engineered horrors into the world. Theirs is a mission doomed to failure, and they know it, but they love one another and this love seems to perhaps be able to carry on past ever their deaths. That is one part of the story, but it gets way stranger, and includes a leviathan, a homeless woman, a murderous duck, messianic/genocidal foxes, a giant flying bear, and the mysterious Charlie X who is the primary victim and then primary villain of The Company. The narrative is not at all clear, sometimes verging on incomprehensible, but the writing is beautiful and it is hard to put down. (Jun)
Unchosen Love, Ursula Le Guin: A smaller story within the grand planet-sweeping stories of the Hainish Chronicles. Taking place on just one planet, and in one coastline village upon that planet, Le Guin explores the differing marital structure practiced there and the opportunities and complications therein. She also allows for more mysticism in this story (including the appearance of a long-dead ghostly woman) than is usual for her science fiction. (June)
The Hidden Palace, Helene Wecker: Not as good as The Golem and the Jinni, but that is not faint praise as the first book in this series is superb. This story continues the account of Chava and Ahmad, the Golem and the Jinni who came ashore in the Jewish and Syrian communities respectively at the turn of the 20th century. The best part of the stories are how Wecker weaves in accurate and mundane facts of life for these diasporic communities while also imagining how various supernatural entities would get on within them. New characters are introduced, notably Kreindel and her Rabbi father and Yossele, the new Golem they create as a weapon against the Tsar; and Dima the Jinneyeh who is unafraid of iron. It feels at times like the story gets lost or muddled within the complexity of the numerous character storylines, especially near the end as they all converge, but there is a beauty and emotional truth to the relationships that really win through. (Sep)
The Matter of Seggri, Ursula Le Guin: Another story in the Hainish chronicles, wherein Le Guin gets to explore the widely different possibilities of human development on different planets. On this planet the Hainish colonists had seeded humans who were genetically predisposed to have a large overbalance of women. This led to a world where woman hold the power, and men are sequestered at age 11 into Castles where they learned to play games, dance, compete, and sire children. They are treated as valuable objects by the female-dominant society, and education, work, freedom, agency and marriage is deemed impossible. The story mainly takes the form of multiple outside observers over several hundred years reporting on this world, and eventually making themselves known to the Seggri. The knowledge that gender roles can play out differently has a predictably revolutionary effect on the Seggri society, though rolling out the implications of the changes takes some time. Le Guin is at her best when she explores these different kinds of possibilities, but not when she is preaching or trying to hammer points home (however good the points may be). This is a good story, thought-provoking, but verges at times on preaching. (June)
A Strange Country, Muriel Barbery: This one is very difficult to rate or to review. Like The Life of Elves before it, the sequel A Strange Country doesn't so much tell a story as insinuate some events through the use of florid, poetic language. It is a book about a war, but it is far more focused on evocations of flowers, wine, tea (especially tea), poetry, art, snow, lakes, bridges and mists. The narrative barely moves, except when jumping through time and alluding to characters and events that may or may not be explained. It is like someone distractedly, yet poetically, explaining a dream they once had. As such it can be fascinating, but also incredibly frustrating. The heart of the idea - mirrored realms of Elves and Humans, occasionally interacting through poetry, drink, art, music and war - is creatively manifested. But the characters, aside from the elf Petrus, are extraordinarily under-realized, and the plot barely explained. The novel is surely trying to communicate a feeling more than an understanding. If that is what you are looking for, read and enjoy. If you want to understand everything that is going on, stay far away. (July)
Broken Homes, Ben Aaronovitch: This series (Rivers of London) is awfully fun, a combination of magic and police procedural, with a lot of detail in both respects. In this book Peter Grant continues to hunt down The Faceless Man - a kind of wizard Moriarty, through a series of twists and turns involving Russian Night Witches, a Southwark council estate, river and tree spirits, Goblin Festivals, demon traps, and a woman who just wants her face back. Should definitely be read in sequence. (Aug)
Foxglove Summer, Ben Aaronovitch: The first of the Rivers of the London series to take place outside of London, in the country area of Rushford. We get deeper into the parallel world of the fae in this story, which centres around the disappearance of two 11 year old girls. We also get more of Peter’s relationship with Beverly Brook (who is kind of a river) and some follow up on his former police partner Lesley. Also, bees. (Aug)
Whispers Underground, Ben Aaronovitch: Another very fun, very well-written book in the Peter Grant/Rivers of London series. This one, the third in the series, features magical pottery, goblin markets, The Quiet People, sewers, Underground raves, Irish artists, pig crap, FBI agents, and Peter Grant's growing ability as a detective and magical apprentice. What is so endearing about this series is the hard-science type description of police procedures mixed with the matter-of-fact weaving in of the fantastical elements. It is our world plus all the stuff that most people kind of suspect is true anyways. (Aug)
The Hanging Tree, Ben Aaronovitch: The sixth in the Rivers of London series. Peter Grant, police constable and magical apprentice to The Nightingale, continues his relationship with the personified London Rivers and his pursuit of The Faceless Man and his former partner, Lesley May. In this novel Grant causes more disaster, but this time in some of the posher neighbourhoods of London. Harrod's in particular gets messed up. We also learn more about the potential long-term difficulties of Grant's relationship with Beverly Brook, one of the Rivers. Very fun and easy read. (Aug)
The October Man, Ben Aaronovitch: Aaronovitch takes his urban magical cop-fantasy universe and plops it into the heart of Germany, where another young apprentice is filling the Peter Grant role for the Germans. Tobias Winter, who works for the German version of The Folly, is called upon to investigate a strange death in the wine country of Trier. Here he meets Vanessa Sommer, a local police officer and amateur harpist who is possibly too enthusiastic for her own good. They chase down river goddesses, revenants, and creepy old German dudes in a tale that is clearly setting the stage for a greater world expansion of The Rivers of London. Can't wait for the inevitable cross-overs, and hopefully the Canadian Folly. (Aug)
Acceptance, Jeff VanderMeer: The conclusion to the very creative, very weird Southern Reach trilogy (Annihilation, Authority). VanderMeer is an expert in crafting an uncertain reading experience. That is, you do not know if the narrators of different threads within the story can be trusted to be perceiving things correctly. What this does is immerse the reader within the confusion of the actors in the book. We don't know what they don't know, and if they are confused then so are we. The reality that this trilogy seems to be trying to convey is one of awe at the hugeness and alienness of nature and a kind of super-nature. We are confronted with an intelligence (perhaps) that is far too big for us to grasp in any meaningful way. Communication is essentially impossible, and when we think we have understood something that is the most dangerous moment of all. The book carries on as a type of ecological horror/suspense story, and it doesn't offer any easy answers. (Aug)
Ring Shout, P Djeli Clark: A delightfully dark and twisted, yet life-giving, story of an army of black women hunting demonic Ku Kluxes in Macon Country in the 1930’s. A certain number of women have the sight to see when members of the KKK get possessed by demons intent on taking over and eating humanity. The Birth of the Nation is being re-released at Stone Mountain, coinciding with the rise of the Klan, and the breaking-in of an eldritch monster. Against this evil is a young black woman whose family was butchered by the Klan and who has a mystical sword of vengeance in her keeping. She has been chosen as the champion of the Good, and is surrounded by former military, German communists, and elderly singers and shouters who create their own kind of magic. A great read. (Sept)
The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe, C.S. Lewis: re-read this classic after reading Planet Narnia, to read it in the light of that book's planetary revelations. It did not disappoint, but then, it never has. (Sep)
The Horse and His Boy, C.S. Lewis: I enjoyed the reading of this Narnia book more than I think I ever have. I had dismissed this story as relatively irrelevant, but I see more what Lewis was trying to do with it this time around, (in the vein of Mercury) and it is a really interesting and powerful tale. (Oct)
Lies Sleeping, Ben Aaronovitch: Book 7 of the Rivers of London series, in which The Faceless Man #2 attempts to complete his re-imagining of London. Peter Grant and the others at The Folly do everything magical and procedural in their power to thwart this attempt. It is again a love letter to London, its history, its rivers, its architecture, and even its Met Police. (Oct)
The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, C.S. Lewis: The Book of the Sun, where Caspian, two of the Pevensies, Reepicheep, and one interloping gas bag travel to where the water become light. This book contains one of my favourite-ever opening lines: "His name was Eustace Clarence Scrub, and he almost deserved it." Some of my favourite appearances of Aslan as well, especially in the dragon sequence. (Oct)
False Value, Ben Aaronovitch: Book 8 of Rivers to London, Peter Grant is now undercover at a giant tech firm, and also an expectant father of twins by his partner, Beverly Brook, who is actually the personification of a River. This story has to do with Ada Lovelace, Charles Babbage and their “Mary Engine”, the theoretical machine/magic hybrid that could do magic at an industrial rate, but which actually might open a portal into the darkness. Good fun, and lots of Hitchhiker’s references. (Oct)
The Silver Chair, C.S. Lewis: The Silver Chair, C.S. Lewis' homage to The Moon, tells the story of Eustace and Jill, two escapees from The Experimental House School in England, joining up with Puddlegum the Marsh-Wiggle (surely one of the great Narnia characters) to find and rescue Prince Rilian. This story always seemed very dark to me as a child, and Michael Ward's book has explained to me why. It is a book of enchantment, of lunacy, of part light and part darkness, like the moon. I thoroughly enjoyed the reading of it this time around. (Oct)
The Magician’s Nephew, C.S. Lewis: What a wonderful story! I have of course read it before, but this time I was struck more clearly by the great romance of it, and the horror (Charn and Jadis) and also the great rollicking humour. There are moments of pure comedy in this story, particularly with regards Uncle Andrew and the Talking Beasts in the newly-created Narnia. There is also deep pathos, as Diggory has to make a terrible sacrifice in the garden, dealing with the temptation to steal an apple to heal his mother. Phillip Pullman gets this entirely wrong, incidentally. He believes the choice - and the triumph - of Diggory is a monstrous lesson put forward by Lewis. But Lewis better understood the pain of the choice and the power of Diggory's faith in Aslan - the one whose tears for Diggory's mother outmatched Diggory's own. Pullman's critique in that light actually seems mean-hearted, a desire to turn something beautiful into something horrible because he has not experienced it for himself. (Oct)
Faith and Prayer:
On the Prayer of Jesus, Ignatius Brianchaninov: An introduction to the historical, Orthodox method of using the Jesus Prayer. The end goal is “mental prayer”, wherein you let God direct your mind into your heart and fill you with the grace of his name. But to begin you speak out the prayer slowly, with great intention and attention. Brianchaninov makes great use of various Church Fathers and monks to explain this method of prayer, the beauty of it, but also the great danger of trying to do it without guidance. This can lead to delusion, frustration, pride and even blasphemy. (Mar)
The Ninefold Path of Jesus: Hidden Wisdom in the Beatitudes, Mark Scandrette: This book is important. Mark Scandrette wrests the Beatitudes out of the realm of sentimentality and theoretical abstraction. He dares to propose that Jesus meant what he said, and that what he said was meant to change everything. Jesus’ invitation into the Beatitude Life is not a nice-sounding series of phrases, but something for us to receive and to practice. Scandrette gives us a sound curriculum to posture ourselves away from the world’s fear, despair, self-centeredness and apathy; and to posture ourselves towards Jesus’ offer of trust, humility, lament, justice, compassion, peacemaking, surrender and radical love. Following in this way seems to be our best hope for living a life that is free, hopeful, and blessed. (Mar)
Walking in Wonder: Eternal Wisdom for a Modern World, John O’Donohue: One of my favourite poets is found here in conversation with John Quinn. They range in location from office to mountain to dawn-lit ruined abbey to pub, and they range in topic from aging and death to absence, balance, wonder, and Meister Eckhart. O'Donohue died early, and this book forms a type of self-given eulogy, a poetic tribute to the themes that captured his prodigious imagination. There is good, wild depth here. "We were sent here to search for the light of Easter in our hearts, and when we find it we are meant to give it away generously." (July)
Liturgies from Below, 462 Acts of Worship, Praying with People at the Ends of the World, Claudio Carvalhaes (ed): This book contains 462 liturgical acts of worship that help us to pray with "people at the ends of the world." It is the result of a massive project of collating prayers, poems, songs, traditions and orders of service from a number of vulnerable and resisting poor communities in different parts of the world. This resource can be used as is, though many of the acts of worship are very specific to the contexts they spring from (as they should be), and include local languages, reference murders or arrests and victims and places by name. So the other way this resource could be used is to inspire worshippers to create their own liturgies based upon the people in their neighbourhoods, in particular the people who are indigenous to the area and/or who have faced injustice and exclusion. (Aug)
Common Prayer: A Liturgy for Ordinary Radicals: Our 8th time through this book as a household, and also used every morning during prayers in the park.
Rule for a New Brother, Brakkenstein Community of Blessed Sacrament Fathers: The Brakkenstein Community's instructions for how a new brother is to be received lovingly into their community. A phenomenal look at how to be hospitable and how to form community together.
Theology
Last of the Fathers, Saint Bernard of Clairvaux and the Encyclical Letter Doctor Mellifluus, Thomas Merton: A book focusing on Pope Pius XII’s encyclical letter about St Bernard of Clairvaux. It features the encyclical itself, and an introduction to Bernard’s life and work by Merton. The parts composed by Merton are the best of the book, as they place Bernard within his historical, ecclesiastical and intellectual context. Bernard was entranced by the love of God in Christ, but was also a man of the Church – capable of supporting actions that today we would consider extremely contrary to the love of Christ. Merton gives a complex and nuanced portrait of the Church Father, though a generally sympathetic one. There is much here that is worth studying, much that convicts towards a more dedicated reception and application of the love of Jesus. (Feb)
A History of Christian Thought, Vol 2: From Augustine to the Eve of the Reformation, by Justo L. Gonzalez: Another masterful and comprehensive portrait of the currents of theology, philosophy, ecclesiology, and political thought in Christian history. This volume begins with the epoch-defining work of Augustine, and details the growing apart of theology and politics between the Christian West and East. It also highlights the low points of the dark ages after the Fall of Rome and then the fall of the Carolingian period, but also the fascinating theological developments of the 12th and 13th centuries, which eventually paved the way for the Reformation. I will confess though, that reading this volume made me sad. So much of the history of thought was contentious and angry, and the more and more intricate hair-splitting around nature, essence, person, being, realism, nominalism, transubstantiation, filioque, and so on led to a greater and greater distance from the person of Jesus of Nazareth. I found hope, however, especially in the mystics and the development of such groups as the Brethren of the Common Life, who focused on simplicity, inner life, common confession, and work. (Mar)
Cry of the Earth, Cry of the Poor, Leonardo Boff: A very intriguing book by the Brazilian liberation theologian. It encompasses some pretty detailed science, incorporating the big bang, the development of the universe and solar system, and the evolution of life on earth and the intricacies of quantum physics as part of the revelation of God. But also it is part of the new spirituality we must develop, Boff argues, as our current Western understanding of subduing or dominating nature – based upon a notion that we are on the earth, and not of the earth, and somehow above the earth and the rest of creation – is leading to ecological disaster and injustice for the poor. Boff ends his argument with an extended history of St Francis and his unique way of treating everything in creation as brother or sister. It is a compelling vision. (May)
Five Biblical Portraits, Elie Weisel: This is a wonderful series of portraits of characters from the Hebrew Scriptures: Saul, Elijah, Jonah, Jeremiah and Joshua. Weisel’s great gift is in humanizing these people, filling in the nooks and crannies of fears, hopes, justifications, sins, insecurities, and prophetic powers. He refuses to dwell upon sentimentalities, cliches, or pedestals, but rather fleshes out individuals who can often be read as two dimensional. In the best tradition of Jewish argumentative exegesis, Weisel often portrays these characters in contrasting terms that can appear at first to be contradictory. But who among us contains no contradictions? No mixed motives? I can’t agree with everything Weisel suggests about them, but I don’t think I am meant to. Weisel challenges us to look at these characters - and at the story they are in, and indeed at Israel and at God - with fresh eyes. And he succeeds. (June)
The New Testament: A Translation, David Bentley Hart: An eye-opening translation, not really for devotional or liturgical use but for personal study. DBH attempts to translate as close to the available and original Greek as possible, cutting through the centuries of accumulated doctrinal layers and compromises. He explains many of his more surprising linguistic choices in a delightfully written and provocative Postscript. He pulls no punches, as he proclaims that the New Testament pulls no punches - it is later translators with agendas (and usually in committees) who interpret as they translate, and usually in ways to make the text more palatable. (July)
Unsettling the Word: Biblical Experiments in Decolonization, Steve Heinrichs, Sylvia Mcadam, various authors: This is a very challenging book. Compiled by Steve Heinrichs, numerous authors use various Scriptural passages to examine colonial theology and ways of "unsettlling" or "decolonizing" the Word. Many of these contributions are striking, shedding new and uncomfortable light on well-worn scripture passages. In several instances I was stunned by how powerfully the author connected the text to historical or current realties, and in ways that pushed the reader towards concrete action. Even those entries which seemed fairly remote from the text in question (and which on occasion angered me with what I thought was a very loose interpretation or connection), upon second reading and third thought often sparked contrition and a new appreciation. You likely won't agree or be happy with everything in this book, no matter what position you are coming from. But it is a very powerful, effective, and important exercise in decolonizing the Bible, a book which has enormous power for good and for ill. (Aug)
Reading While Black: African American Biblical Interpretation as an Exercise in Hope, Esau McCaulley: A truly excellent celebration of the Black exegetical tradition, one which takes the Scriptures seriously as liberative while also remaining alive to how the abuse of the Scriptures has led to the abuse of people. McCaulley plots a line that seeks to steer clear of traditional interpretations that support white supremacy, but also avoids the pitfalls of a liberal tradition (both Black and White) that denies the life and freedom-giving power of Scripture itself. He demonstrates this Black exegetical tradition through examining a Scriptural approach to the problem of policing, the legitimacy of protest, the reality of black rage, and the haunting spectre of slavery. In all of this McCaulley uses the text as the text, believing it to be both God's word and God's revelation of freedom and hope. McCaulley seeks to honour his ancestors who were present in the Scriptural story, and who saw the Bible as a testament to freedom when read and applied correctly. (Aug)
Finding God in The Lord of the Rings, Kurt Bruner and Jim Ware: This is a brief and relatively decent exploration of biblical themes within The Lord of the Rings. There is nothing especially new here, though this is perhaps only my perspective because I have thought extensively on this subject for a long time. But it is always good to delve into Tolkien's work and to see others drawing similar conclusions around grace, resistance, providence, fellowship and more. (Aug)
Christian Behaviour, C.S. Lewis: C.S. Lewis has an unparalleled way with words and expression. Even when you don't agree with him he has the ability to be both clear and beautiful (and often funny) in the way he gets his point across. This book is the written version of a series of talks he gave on the radio during the war, talks which also formed parts of his more well-known work, Mere Christianity. I had read some of these talks before and some I hadn't. Some hold up extremely well, others less so, though Lewis would probably suggest that these may be truths the culture has moved on from. He is at his best when taking cosmic-level statements and illustrating them with mundane, everyday level examples, in ways that you can see are deeply true and applicable. (Sep)
Conjectures of a Guilty Bystander, Thomas Merton: a long series of notes from Merton’s journals, covering several years in the 1960’s, and including his thoughts on Vatican II, Barth and Bonhoeffer, The Black Panthers, The Cuban Missile Crisis, Jacques Maritain, Sartre and St Anselm, the Kennedy Assassination, the music played to cows in the milking barn, the beginning rumblings of Vietnam, Communism, MLK Jr, and much more. There is much in here that is pure genius, evidence of a piercingly perceptive mind in deep contemplation and rumination. Merton takes especial care to think and write about "religionless religion" - the dangers of it, and yet also the need to "turn towards the world," while not becoming of it. (Oct)
Novels:
Americanah, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie: I have been meaning to read this for some time. It is a wonderful book, not so much for an intricate story (the story of two Nigerians who take very different paths and have very different experiences in America and the UK respectively, and who both return to Lagos), but because of the honest beauty of the writing. The characterisation is very vulnerable and perceptive, with many conversations and observations about American (really Western) society from the perspective of a Nigerian woman (or as she puts it, a Non-American Black). It is fascinating and jarring to hear that the characters “discover” race once they come to America. Everything is affected and shaped by it, which was not their experience growing up in Nigeria. (Jan)
Include Me Out, Maria Sonia Cristoff: A story about a woman in Argentina who, after she unleashed an expose at her former job as an interpreter, relocates to a small town and attempts to be as silent and as uninvolved as she can in the life around her. She takes a job as a security guard at a local museum, but focuses on sitting well, and on the 10 different kinds of silence she has written down in her manual of rhetoric. Events conspire against her though, when she is promoted to assist a taxidermist in the restoration of two celebrated horses the museum is displaying, and she falls back into efforts to wreak vengeance on the overly verbose taxidermist. It is an interesting treatise on the possibility of silence and on the desire to remove oneself from the ins and outs of life. (Mar)
The Goldfinch, Donna Tartt: A huge, ranging story that is self-consciously Dickensian in tone, plot, themes (especially class themes) and characterisation. This is something of a compliment, because even though it is clearly derivative, it is derivative of genius. The main character is essentially orphaned at a young age in modern day New York through a terrorist act in an art museum. This loss of his beloved mother, and the painting that he takes in the midst of the calamity, sets the trajectory for the rest of his life. There are elements of David Copperfield in the story, in particular with the waxing and waning of his fortunes and with the tension in his love of two different women; there are elements of Oliver Twist in the description of his orphanhood and some of the disreputable characters he associates with; there are elements of Great Expectations in his sudden elevation and in some of the adult characters who seek to help him; and he even gets a ghostly visit on Christmas Eve! It is a good story, but there is a frustrating attention given to seemingly irrelevant details, and the dialogue – particularly with Boris – verges on the maddening at times. It also feels like a beautifully told story that has little substance in the end, aside from a notion tacked on at the end that good things can come from bad situations and actions. I would recommend Tartt’s other book, The Secret History, as a better place to start with this author. (Apr)
One Good Story, That One, Thomas King: Actually a series of short stories, each one funnier and more inventive than the last, all dealing in various ways with the Indigenous experience in North America. A number of them centre around Coyote and the making of things, and the coming of White People to the land. There is a very poignant story called Borders about a Blackfoot family trying to cross from Canada into the States and being denied entry because the mother insists she is Blackfoot and not anything else, She is then denied reentry into Canada for the same reason. I am definitely convinced to read more Thomas King after this. (June)
The Elegance of the Hedgehog, Muriel Barbery: An interesting one. The book takes the form of alternating journal entries, detailing the revelations and meditations of a concierge in her fifties and a twelve year old girl respectively. Both are remarkably intelligent, and both find they have the need to hide their true abilities and sensitivity from those around them, for different reasons. This hiddenness, which explains the title (Renee the concierge is prickly on the outside but surprisingly tender inside) feels forced, though some explanation is given later in the novel. The truth is, neither of these characters are especially laudable, and it helps to read the story as if they are meant to be portrayed as such. They are intelligent but broken, scared, arrogant, judgmental, and inconsistent. The point seems to be that beauty and truth can be found within the most banal moments and people. (July)
On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous, Ocean Vuong: Vuong's first novel takes the form of a long, disjointed letter to his illiterate mother. Vuong is a poet, and this leads to all the pros and cons of a poet-turned-novelist being present in this book. The writing is often deft and ethereal, but at other times seems self-indulgent and unbearably precious, the kind of writing that I suspect Vuong's writing peers would love because they "get it", even if there is nothing particular to "get". I come away with the sense that it believes it is saying (or at least communicating) more than it is. (One middle section of non sequiturs is especially egregious for this, in my opinion). The story is about a family, a son, a mother, and a grandmother who escaped from Vietnam and came to Hartford. The narrator - "Little Dog" - reflects upon being unseen; on the brief nature of life; on the perils of family. Animal imagery is frequently invoked. The most powerful theme running through the book is the narrator's love for a mother who is devastated by the cost of war and the cost of escaping war. It should be noted that this book is very explicit: explicit about race; about overdose; about war; about refugee realities; about sex; about Hartford; about death. Explicit is not bad, but it is also not for everyone. (July)
Just After Sunset, Stephen King: A series of short stories from the master of horror and things that creep through your subconscious. Some are a little obvious (Willa and the Cat From Hell); a number deal with natural rather than supernatural horror scenarios (The Gingerbread Woman, for instance); one is really gross (A Tight Space); and one, in my opinion, comes close to some of the very best Stephen King stories (N.) This last story takes you deep into a psychological mystery and nightmare, and draws on the horror trope of something trying to come through into our reality. But the way that something is discovered, and what must be done to keep it at bay, is the real kicker. Stephen King is the real deal, and while not for everyone he truly is a spinner of addictive tales. (Oct)
Midnight Sweatlodge, Waubgeshig Rice: A strange book. A number of mostly young Anishinaabe people visit a sweatlodge one night, where an Elder begins the ceremony and asks them each to share their stories. Most do, and they are sad stories of suicides, broken relationships, dashed dreams. One man, David, refuses to share. The rest of the book follows his life thereafter, starting with his alcoholic abuse of his wife, but then moving into an otherworldly tale of his discovery of the Aasinaabe, a perfectly round stone that Creator placed in a crevice after the previous time the Anishinaabe people lost their way. This time, when it falls into the water, judgment will come. The story is strange because the last story is so different in feel to the ones told in the sweatlodge. But the writing is sublime and raw. (Nov)
War in Heaven, Charles Williams: Another spiritual thriller from the master. This one involves the Graal; and Archdeacon; Prester John; a mysterious Greek owner of a mysterious apothecary shoppe in London that distributes mysterious ointment that pierces the veil between earth and hell (a common Williams’ trope); a Catholic Duke; poetry; an unsolved murder; prayer; and much more besides. Like most of Williams’ novels I found this one slow and slightly confusing to begin, but once the game is afoot I could hardly put it down. This is heady stuff, and it takes both Evil and Good entirely seriously. (Dec)
Non-Fiction:
Vincent Van Gogh, by Klaus Fussmann: A reading of Van Gogh which seeks to explain why his art was so offensive and rejected at the time, but so adored now. Fussmann argues that Van Gogh was the ultimate Expressionist, the first and greatest painter of interior mania. Because of Van Gogh we are accustomed to that now in all forms of media (and Fussmann, like myself, considers this as not an entirely welcome phenomenon), but we can also recognise it for what it is, and see that Van Gogh is still the unrivalled master of it. He saw the world from his own emotional centre, and was able to make us see it as well. Fussmann tries to play down or undermine the legends of Van Gogh’s life, the efforts to make him a misunderstood genius or saint. I have read and watched a lot of material on Van Gogh, and seek out his paintings wherever I can find them. They never fail to move me, and I have never fully understood why. (Jan)
Banker to the Poor: Micro-lending and the Battle Against World Poverty, Muhammed Yunus: A thoroughly inspirational – almost breathtaking – story of the advent of a micro-lending banking network for the poor. Yunus started this idea in Bangladesh with a personal loan of $27 to a number of desperately poor women. What became Grameen Bank has since loaned billions of dollars to the world’s poor since, mostly to poor women, and with a pay-back rate that exceeds that of “regular” banks. Yunus is a man who simply asked what was possible and would not accept bad or ignorant reasons for why people have to remain in extreme poverty. A beautiful vision and a beautiful book. (Jan)
Lessons From Lucy, The Simple Joys of an Old, Happy Dog, Dave Barry: Barry is a bit of a guilty pleasure, a hold-over from my youth when I used to read his newspaper column and books because they never failed to make me laugh out loud. They still do. They are silly and juvenile, filled with jokes about bodily gases, exploding mailboxes (or whales) and precision lawn machine marching (true), but I love them. This book is about Dave Barry’s dog, Lucy, and the genuine life lessons he is learning from her as they both grow old. The lessons are pretty obvious, but still good: Be present. Make new friends. Try not to be consumed by anger. Don’t lie. The epilogue has a very moving story of his daughter and a serious health crisis, in which Barry, a professed atheist, is moved to receive and offer prayers (though still an atheist, but why not try?) So, I like this book. (Feb)
The Beautiful Struggle: A Father, Two Sons, and an Unlikely Road to Manhood, Ta-Nehisi Coates: A beautifully lyrical memoir of life growing up in West Baltimore in the 70’s-90’s. This is the story of a father with seven children by four different women; a father who was a Black Nationalist and Black Panther before falling out; a father who was a stern disciplinarian with set ideas on becoming Conscious; a father who stayed around and, despite his mistakes, worked hard to keep his children from becoming more stray soldiers in the turf wars. Coates paints a picture of himself, his older brother Bill, his mom and his dad that is compelling and yet somewhat opaque to a cultural outsider like me. Still, he opens a door to a world I did and do not know, and honours those who pushed and pulled him towards life and hope. (Feb)
Did Someone Say Totalitarianism? Five Interventions in the (Mis)Use of a Notion, Slavoj Zizek: A work of dense but readable philosophy, centered loosely around the theme of totalitarianism. Zizek brings his vast breadth of interest and knowledge to bear on the idea that the notion of totalitarianism is used now as trump card to stop radical thinking and to reinforce the true modern hegemony of liberal democratic capitalism. I will be honest and admit that sometimes – even often – I had a hard time understanding the connections Zizek was seeking to draw. He waxes beautifully and at length on topics including Lacanian social theory; Marxist realities; the Holocaust; Stalinism and the gulag; the Bosnian-Serbian war; Antigone; deconstructionism; fundamentalism; reality television; and Nic Cage and John Travolta in the movie Face/Off. He also has a staggeringly perceptive and powerful section on Christianity and the atonement, which is better than many theology textbooks I have read. In the end he lands on technology and the invasion of privacy as possibly a greater threat of totalitarianism than the world has ever known. Yet even here suggests that we must not be ruled or manipulated by fear, or by the way the liberal-democratic hegemony seeks to limit thought through the specter of this totalitarianism. There are parts of this book that are extremely prescient for the Covid day and age. (Feb)
The Sleep Solution: Why Your Sleep is Broken and How to Fix It, W. Chris Winter: An accessible, sometimes humorous book about the realities of sleep, sleep disorders, and solutions to sleep problems. Very informative and straight forward, and I appreciate the warnings against sleeping pills and other supposed quick fixes. (Apr)
12 Rules for Life: An Antidote to Chaos, Jordan B Peterson: Some people dislike Mr Peterson, and some may even be upset with me that I read this book. But there is wisdom here, and more than that, there is compassion, grace, mercy and love. Peterson wants the world to be a better place, and he believes that he has to start with himself - as we all have to start with ourselves. He draws from deep wells of ancient wisdom and seeks to apply them towards people’s Good. In terms of writing style, he writes like he speaks, in short phrases with many (too many) rhetorical questions. But whatever may be thought or said about JP, I will say I think I am a better person - and want to be a better person - after reading his book. (Nov)
The Books That Changed My Life: Reflections by 100 Authors, Actors, Musicians and Other Remarkable People, Bethanne Patrick (ed): A book about books by people who love books, which obviously attracted me. I love reading about what people are drawn to in books, and was hoping to get some inspiration for some other books to read. I did jot down two of the suggested books (including the only one to be suggested twice), but by and large, though I enjoyed reading this, I was less impressed than I had hoped to be. I think it is because, though the title and the preface promise quite a lot of diversity in those offering up their favourite books, I did not find this to be the case. Perhaps this is inevitable - the editor can only really ask people she has contact with, and can only include the people who actually respond - but most of the entries reflected the thoughts of those within the American or sometimes British publishing world, mostly East Coast, mostly progressive. Nothing wrong with that perspective per se, just awfully repetitive in this book, and I got a little weary of what seemed like a very common and narrowly-focused mindset. I would really love to see this done with a much broader net thrown. (Dec)
Graphic Novels:
The Sandman Presents: Taller Tales, Bill Willingham: A series of riffs on the dream world, post the Sandman series. Many favourite characters and scenarios return, and it is pretty fun, but it is far more cartoonish than the Sandman series. Shows just how great a story-teller Neil Gaiman is. (Jan)
Only the End of the World Again, Neil Gaiman, adapted by P. Craig Russell: Another Gaiman adaptation that really doesn’t hold the same kind of oomph and gravitas as the original Gaiman work. Tells the story of a werewolf/reality adjustor who prevents the end of the world and the rise of the “Old Ones” along the New England coast. Obvious references to H.P. Lovecraft here. (Jan)
Moon Knight: The Bottom, Huston and Finch (May)
Moon Knight: Midnight Sun, (May)
Moon Knight: God and Country, (May)
Essential Moon Knight, Vol 3.: Moon Knight is my favourite comic character, and there are a number of different series runs I have followed. The Essentials volume is a compilation of the Fist of Khonshu run with a few others thrown in, and there is a much clearer sense of his supernatural powers than in other runs. The Huston and Finch run, on the other hand, primarily call his sanity into question. Is he really being guided by an ancient Egyptian god (or through a trio of ancient mystical priests)? Or is he dangerously delusional and unbalanced? He has no powers in this run aside from an incredible ability to take and dish out punishment. (May)
The West Coast Avengers, #21: A comic sent to me by a friend at a very opportune moment, because he knew I like Moon Knight. This episode shows the introduction of Moon Knight and Khonshu to the West Coast Avengers, a team up that really doesn’t make a ton of sense as Moon Knight is fundamentally a New York guy. Still, I loved it because of the intention of the gift, and it also contains a panel of Moon knight throwing everything in his arsenal at a bunch of art thieves, a panel that has now become a meme entitled “Random Bullsh*t Go!” And I love that very much. (June)
Moon Knight, Phases, Bemis, Davidson, Burrows, Templeton: A series that focuses almost exclusively on Marc Spector's Dissociative Disorder, where it came from (a fake rabbi "uncle" who was actually a murderous Nazi) and how he deals with it, now that he also has a child to care for. Spector's mental health issues are certainly part of what make Moon Knight a great character, and there are some interesting ideas in this volume. But it's a bit too gimmicky for my liking, not to mention very chaotic and confusing. And there is little in the way of Moon Knight actually getting down to business and fighting crime. I think the word I am looking for here is self-indulgent. Not my favourite series, in other words. (Oct)
Captain America, The Legend of Steve, Vol 3, Ta-Nehisi Coates: Steve Rogers (Cap) has been framed for the murder of General Ross, and has to get his reputation back. He is helped in this effort by the Daughters of Liberty, a group that goes back to the Enlightenment and is now being run by Sharon Carter, or possibly Peggy Carter, or maybe some others as well. At any rate they are trying to stop The Watchdogs, a group of would-be patriots capturing and trafficking immigrants coming across the border; the remnants of AIM; and a cop-killer named Scourge, whose M.O. is only to kill bad guys. Like the best of Cap Am stories, this one has America and her ideals in the crosshairs, and Coates brings his own unique perspective to the party. (Oct)
The Comic Book Story of Professional Wrestling: A Hardcore, High-Flying, No-Holds-Barred History of the One True Sport, Aubrey Sitterson, Chris Moreno: An exhaustively researched account of pro wrestling from its beginning as a carnival sideshow in the 19th century all the way through the British, Mexican, Japanese, Canadian, Puerto Rican and American versions. The authors make it clear that wrestling has been a con from or near the very beginning, with the primary aim being to get attention and to separate marks from their money. But they don’t consider that a negative thing. Wrestling truly is a pure form of entertainment, good versus evil, the myth of redemptive violence played out upon large men in spandex. The authors outline the differing wrestling traditions, lingo, territories and iterations. As a wrestling fan growing up, and as a graphic novel fan now, this was a great read. I reminisced but also learned a lot of inside baseball. (Oct)
The Intergalactic Empire of Wakanda, Parts 1-3, Ta-Nehisi Coates: Three volumes of Coates’ inventive space epic. Coates imagines an empire born of Wakandans who were sent to space by Black Panther to secure vibranium deposits from the hands of their enemies. This colony of Wakandans eventually turns to Imperial conquest, however, which T’Challa discovers when he travels to the stars in a presumptive rescue operation. This Empire is as bad or worse than anything we have seen on earth, as it enslaves the conquered, wipes their memories and mines their knowledge for greater conquest. (Nov)
Saga, Vol 8, Fiona Staples and Brian Vaughn: The ongoing epic story of two star-crossed lovers and their impossible mixed child, who has both horns and wings, both magic and science. (Nov)
Monk! Thelonious, Pannonica, and the Friendship Behind a Musical Revolution, Youssef Daoudi: A free-wheeling, jazz and be-bop inspired look at the life and music of Thelonius Monk, and especially his unlikely friendship with Pannonica Rothschild, the Jazz Baroness. The art is beautiful, the story feels improvised, and the whole thing makes you want to listen to Hackensack. (Nov)
Rivers of London: Body Work, Ben Aaronovitch, Cartmell, Sullivan, Guerrero: The first graphic novel that compliments the Rivers of London books series by Aaronovitch. About a series of haunted cars and a witch-ducking stool. (Nov)
Rivers of London: Cry Fox: Having to do with a real child abduction, aided by a fox and a fox-man, towards the end of rich people wanting to hunt humans for sport. (Nov)
Rivers of London: Night Witch: Having to do with a faked child abduction and the backstory of one of the famous Russian Night Witches from WW2. (Nov)
Rivers of London: Detective Stories: A series of stories from Peter Grant’s Folly and pre-Folly days, showing both the magical and police procedural part of his job. (Dec)
Rivers of London: Action at a Distance: Delving into Nightingale’s past work hunting down a fomer Nazi turned British nuclear “scientist” who is collecting young girls. (Dec)
Rivers of London: Water Weed: Grant and Beverly and the rest of the Folly chase down The Hoodette, a drug dealer pushing a new variety of Werelight Weed. (Dec)
Rivers of London: The Fey and the Furious: Street-racing and fairies and illegal unicorn horn trafficking feature in this one, as Grant finds himself back in the kingdom of the Fey. (Dec)
Strange Fruit II: More Uncelebrated Narratives From Black History, Joel Christian Gill: This is a great series, informative, entertaining, and important. Includes stories of unheralded sherriffs, war heroes, pianists, and my personal favourite, Jourdon Anderson, a former slave who wrote the greatest ever letter to the man who had “owned” him and his family. (Nov)
Slaughterhouse-Five, or The Children’s Crusade, a graphic novel adaptation, Kurt Vonnegut, Ryan North and Albert Montreys: A very faithful, funny and brutal rendering of this darkly comic and crazily horrific book. It is about the fire-bombing of Dresden (which Vonnegut experienced firsthand), and an optometrist who survives it and goes on to become unstuck in time, experiencing life as a series of moments rather than one long narrative. (Nov)
Andre the Giant: Closer to Heaven, Brandon Easton: Andre was my wrestling hero growing up. This graphic novel examines the tensions between Andre as a wrestler and Andre as a man, and includes a letter written to him by his estranged daughter. Andre lived a full life, but also a pained life, and a reckless, even harmful life. (Nov)
Poetry:
I Am Still Too Much, Brandi Bird: Bird, a Saulteaux and Cree poet from Treaty 1 Territory, now living Musqueam, Squamish and Tsleil-Waututh land, presents a book of poems that speak of Land, Water, Father and Mother, Creator, Language and Body. The poems combine a potent and sometimes startling mix of prairie imagery from time immemorial and internet imagery from image-obsessed websites. It seems that Bird is trying to find their place, and is displaced again and again from language, family, land, and body. (Apr)
A Timbered Choir: The Sabbath Poems, 1979-1997, Wendell Berry: A series of poems, most of them brief, on the nature of Sabbath, work, farming, love and death. They are beautiful mostly in atmosphere and language, and a few are transcendent. The most well-known poem from the collection is “On the Farm”, a long description of what one must do day to day on the farm and the beauty of this ordered life. (Apr)
Old Possum’s Book of Practical Cats, T.S. Eliot: A series of classic and very funny poems about Cats, by T.S Eliot. These poems formed the basis of the musical Cats, which is a great stage show and a horrifying movie that may have caused 2020. As my son Noah says, "British authors seem to love cats." (July)
American Melancholy, Joyce Carol Oates: Poems mostly about America, and digging into painful subjects like the scientific torture of animals and psychological torment of humans; the lost beauty and potential of Marlon Brando; the reasoning behind abortion; the brutal seeming necessity of pain in order to create beauty; and the hospice death of a husband. These poems are sad but beautiful. (Oct)
Bible:
• 1 John
• 2 John
• 3 John
• 1 Samuel
• Matthew
• Hebrews
• James
• 1 Peter
• 2 Peter
• Mark
• Jude
• 2 Samuel
• Daniel
• Luke
• Hosea
• Joel
• 1 Kings
• Amos
• Jonah
• Obadiah
• John
• Micah
• Nahum
• Habakkuk
• Haggai
• 2 Kings
• Zephaniah
• Zechariah
• Acts
• Malachi
• 1 Chronicles
• Romans
• Psalms
• 1 Corinthians
2 Corinthians
2 Chronicles
Galatians
Ezra
Ephesians
Philippians
Colossians
Ruth
Proverbs
Isaiah
Ecclesiastes
1 Thessalonians
2 Thessalonians
Nehemiah
1 Timothy
2 Timothy
Song of Solomon
Titus
Philemon
Esther
Revelation
Job
Genesis
Jeremiah
Lamentations
Exodus
Leviticus
Ezekiel
Numbers
Deuteronomy
Joshua
Judges
