
Riot Round-Up: The Best Books We Read in January
Belle Cora by Phillip Margulies
Bring Me The Rhinoceros: And Other Zen Koans That Will Save Your Life by John Tarrant
You all know the famous koan, “You know the sound of two hands clapping, but what is the sound of one hand?” I’ve puzzled over this Zen head-scratcher for years and will continue to do so for years. But that’s what’s great about koans, Tarrant suggests, they are little mind nuggets, and mind nuggets are, in my opinion, exactly what February calls for. Because late winter early spring as a season that is neither here nor there. Discuss. –Elizabeth Bastos
Creativity Inc. by Ed Catmull and Amy Wallace (Random House, April 8)
David & Goliath by Malcolm Gladwell
It seems as though January of 2014 has been the month for me to catch up on a slew of books published in 2013. David & Goliath was by far the best of the bunch. Anything by Gladwell is sure to get a lot of attention, but I was honestly surprised I didn’t hear more about this book before picking it up. It didn’t make the cut for many best-of lists last year, but surely should have. Gladwell is not scientific in the traditional sense, but he finds ways of weaving stories together that just make you consider new possibilities about the world around us. I’ve heard criticisms that he’s just a pop psychologist, but really he’s a master of observation. David & Goliath is all about how the little guy — the underdog in the story — often has certain advantages that aren’t necessarily readily apparent. That’s most compelling, to me, when he’s dissecting for us the biblical story of David and Goliath. He makes a convincing argument that how the whole episode went down is much different than what you may have been taught in Sunday school. And from that first chapter, he builds on the idea of the underdog being stronger than you think. This book will inspire you and motivate you and give you hope that being the little guy may actually put the odds in your favor. –Jeremy Anderberg
The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt
For some dumb reason, I tend to avoid books that receive an inordinate amount of hype unless I’m already a huge fan of the author. The utter idiocy of this habit has never been more apparent to me than during the couple of weeks it took me to read Donna Tartt’s sprawling, wonderful The Goldfinch. The traumatic loss of the Theodore Decker’s mother sets off a series of harrowing and often bizarre events involving stolen art, antique furniture, and one of the most memorable casts of characters I can remember in a novel. At about 800 pages, The Goldfinch is an experience as much as it is a book, but despite its potentially intimidating length, it has now been added to the very short list of books that I’ll recommend to anyone who tells me they’re looking for a new book to read (it’s happened twice already). Since you’re reading this, I’ll assume you need a book to read. Make it The Goldfinch. Like, now. Go. Seriously. – Josh Corman
Hild by Nicola Griffith
Little Failure by Gary Shteyngart
I’ve been crushing on Gary-Shteyngart-the-person since Day 1. How can you not be in love with a cheeky Soviet immigrant who blurbs a million books, writes about wearing Google Glass for the New Yorker, and has encyclopedic knowledge of old school hip hop and ghetto tech? With Little Failure, I’m now officially crushing on Gary-Shteyngart-the-writer, too.
In his most vulnerable project to date, Shteyngart finally lets down his guard to write about the Soviet immigrant experience. How does a 7-year-old boy go from living amongst exploding Soviet TVs and writing his first novel — Lenin and His Magical Goose — for one slice of cheese per page, to living in a tiny American apartment with his screaming parents and being the laughingstock of the Solomon Schechter Hebrew Day School in Queens? Not easily, it turns out. It helps that his American TV wasn’t the exploding variety. Little Failure is Gary Shteyngart’s best writing yet; a memoir that strives for truth and addresses that age-old question of how you can still love someone who had you circumcised at age 8. -Rachel Smalter HallA Life in Men by Gina Frangello (Algonquin Books, February 4)
The Luminaries by Eleanor Catton
The Liminal People by Ayize Jama-Everett
If you love Lauren Beukes, Jim Butcher, Ilona Andrews, and/or urban fantasy, heads-up! I recently read The Liminal People, after a recommendation from a friend, and it’s an absolute must-read. Much like Beukes’s excellent Zoo City, Jama-Everett envisions a world in which those on the fringes (and some more in the spotlight) have special powers. Rather than get caught up in their source, he’s written an action-packed adventure that spans Africa and London, takes on questions of identity and family, searches for a higher meaning, and creates a wise-ass narrator for the ages. –Jenn Northington
The Lowland by Jhumpa Lahiri
The story of two inseparable brothers growing up in mid-century India. One leaves to go to school in America, one stays and becomes more and more deeply involved in political upheaval. Tragedy comes, families are torn apart and remade and then torn apart again. There’s an especially interesting examination of motherhood here- how can you possibly mother a child who is a living reminder of the worst day of your life? A deft yet steady exploration of human nature, with a solid dose of the unfamiliar-to-me history of another country that sent me scrambling to Wikipedia (which I appreciate). –Amanda Nelson
Maddie on Things by Theron Humphrey
This is one of those books I threw onto my Amazon wishlist in December on a whim, because I’d seen it in displays and it looked cute and, you know, doggies, and then someone actually bought it for me and HOLY CRAP, thank you, in-laws! Because the hour or two I sat in my favorite chair and just enjoyed this book were some of the happiest hours of my entire month. It’s exceedingly simple–a dog, on things–yet Maddie and Theron’s adventures also speak to the deepest of American dreams, a la Steinbeck and Charlie, of just heading out on the open road with no other purpose than to meet good, ordinary folks and see new things. Maddie’s skills are awesome, but so are Theron’s. The photographs are excellent, and all of them made me want to go adventuring. (And if you’re not following Maddie and Theron at thiswildidea on Instagram, you should be.) I read a whole lot of pretty good novels this month that had all received critical acclaim, but when I sat down and thought about it, Maddie put a permanent smile on my face the whole time I had her open in front of me, so Maddie wins. –Jill Guccini
May We Be Forgiven by A.M. Homes
To boil down May We Be Forgiven, the story of underachieving Nixon scholar Harry Silver and his highly dysfunctional family, to its plot would be to do it a disservice. Because, frankly, the storyline is a shambles. It veers from domestic tragedy and sad-sack campus comedy to international spy games and African voyages of discovery, and still manages to be home in time for tea. It’s like The Corrections but with the picaresque turned up to 11. This scattergun, highly-caffeinated approach to plotting should result in a mangled car crash of a novel, not dissimilar to the actual vehicular accident that kick starts proceedings. And yet Homes injects everything with an odd sense of humour that, while occasionally black, holds everything together in a blissed out, pseduo-medicated haze. If the Coen Brothers wrote novels about when Thanksgiving dinners go horribly wrong, May We Be Forgiven would be the result. –Edd McCracken
Minister Without Portfolio by Michael Winter
Oh, the incomparable Michael Winter. You, non-Canadian Riot fan who does not know the magic of Michael Winter: GET THEE TO A BOOKSHOP and purchase anything at all by Michael Winter immediately. DO IT.
Minister Without Portfolio tells the story of Henry, a Newfoundlander with fresh heartbreak and very few commitments in life, who after a traumatic experience as a contractor in Afghanistan finds himself, well, in search of a few good commitments. So, like many a good literary man on a mission to make sense of himself, he heads for rural life and sets about building himself a house. Along the way, he falls in an incinerator, falls into more knowledge of his new community than he thought he wanted, and certainly falls in love. The voice is charming and witty, the style literary in the best way, and the plot ambling and engaging. And it includes lines like this: “He spoke of Henry as if he were an old shed built with found wood. Which he was. Which we all are.” Tell me that’s not brain-ticklingly gorgeous prose? –Brenna Clarke Cray
The Night Gwen Stacy Died by Sarah Bruni
In addressing the phenomenon of the superhero, Alan Moore recently said that “this embracing of what were unambiguously children’s characters at their mid-20th century inception seems to indicate a retreat from the admittedly overwhelming complexities of modern existence.” Predictably, this elicited much whining from those recognised something of themselves in Moore’s remarks. Yet the fictional possibilities posed by such an escapist sense of arrested development are part of what makes Sarah Bruni’s debut novel so original.
Sheila Gower, a teenager already afraid she’ll never leave her small, suffocating Iowa hometown, finds escape in the form of a taxi driver who calls himself ‘Peter Parker’. Together, they head for Chicago via a half-faked kidnapping, and as a bizarre romance develops, identities shift and reality becomes deeply uncertain. Just as her new boyfriend models himself on Spider-Man, Sheila becomes ‘Gwen’, Spider-Man’s perfect, doomed girlfriend. However, Peter is not merely a fantasist, and has dark reasons for bringing Sheila/Gwen into his life…
Bruni’s novel is far more than an interesting twist on a pop culture staple. The parallels she draws between the simple, four-colour world of comics and the far more complicated one we inhabit invests the book with a fascinating unpredictability, breathing new life into the trope of young lovers on the run. A beguiling exploration of human identity and fragility, Bruni is an author to keep an eye on. –Sean Bell
On Such a Full Sea by Chang-Rae Lee
The Painter by Peter Heller (Knopf, May 6)
The Salinger Contract by Adam Langer
This is the type of book I’d recommend to anyone who’s a bibliophile. Not only is it a great story and completely unputdownable (I may or may not have played hooky for a few days just so I could spend my afternoons reading it), it’s a book about books and how some books inspire people to make fiction their reality. The most infamous example is The Catcher in the Rye by JD Salinger, but lots of other books do this, too—think of travel guides based on The Da Vinci Code, or muggle quidditch. Why do some books resonate like this? It’s one of the great mysteries of reading and the question that really drives the novel. Not only is The Salinger Contract wry and fun and ever-so-slightly over the top (in the way all good thrillers are), it also makes you think. And on a side note, I’m totally drinking at the Coq d’Or the next time I’m in Chicago. –Tasha Brandstatter
A Second Mencken Chrestomathy by H.L. Mencken
The Secret Rooms by Catherine Bailey
Shovel Ready by Adam Sternbergh
The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie by Alan Bradley
Things I’ve Learned from Dying by David R. Dow
David R. Dow is a death row lawyer who doesn’t believe in the death penalty. It’s his life mission to save the lives of criminals in Texas, some he believes are innocent, some he believes are guilty. He has spent a lot of time thinking about death and dying, but this memoir takes place during three major events: Waterman, a death row inmate, and his last days alive, his father-in-law’s melanoma, and his beloved family dog’s sudden liver failure. It’s beautifully written and, yes, it is sad. You know from the beginning how each of these stories will play out, but it is a beautiful look at three lives and what they mean to one man and his family. -Leslie
Under the Wide and Starry Sky by Nancy Horan
You generally know the outcome of historical fictions before you read them, because by their nature, they’re written well after the subject is dead. And even then, you (or, ok, I) usually look up the person and know exactly when the person died, just to be sure. But when I got to the end of Under the Wide and Starry Sky, and Robert Louis Stevenson expired right on schedule, I still burst into tears – but they were tears of release for a story well told and a life lived really, inspiringly, fully. Full disclosure: I could not place RLS with a single book of his till the native Scott started traveling the world in search of the perfect climate to keep his weak lungs going, and his adventures turned into Treasure Island. And then Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, which may or may not have inadvertently been inspired by Stevenson’s own relationship with Fanny Van De Grift Osbourne, who is really the heroine of this love story about a gifted writer. Horan also wrote Loving Frank (Lloyd Wright), and seems to have found a perfect novel niche: extraordinarly spunky American woman, married, falls for struggling/troubled genius artist, who pursues the lucky woman halfway across the globe to secure her for his own – and the rest is literally history. From artist colonies in France to squatting in California to living like literal kings in Samoa, this rambling round-the-world adventure will leave you with two burning thoughts: first, I must read everything RLS has ever written, and second, how the hell does a struggling artist and a divorcee (with children in tow!) afford to travel continent to continent, and back? It’s a wild and crazy ride, well worth diving into. -Alison Peters
Unremarried Widow by Artis Henderson
I had a great month full of wonderful books. THREE were one day-ers, which rarely happens to me. Unremarried Widow hit all of my literary buttons: beautiful prose, real emotion, and connection. When she was five years old, Artis Henderson lost her father in a plane crash (she survived). Nearly twenty years later, she lost her husband in an Apache helicopter crash in Iraq. Her memoir is not just about her seemingly insurmountable loss, it is also a true testament to the strength of the human spirit. She knew both men for such a short amount of time but they had a profound impact on her life. As she reconciles with her own mother, their shared experience of young widowhood helps bond them together in ways they were never able to before. It will definitely make my “Best of 2014” list, even though it gave me major raccoon eyes. –Emily Gatlin
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