My reading really dropped off this month apparently, and this whole year so far is off to a relatively slow start, but the books below were all *chef’s kiss*, so I guess I can’t be too upset about it. I also am like partway through a bunch of books right now, so my prediction is a bumper crop next month.
Anyway, below is the list of the scant 6 books I finished in March, a microview of each, and reviews of my 3 favorites.
Also, looking ahead to next month’s newsletter, be prepared for a lot of poetry, since April is National Poetry Month, and y’all should consider picking up a collection or two to celebrate!
*Note: starred entries below are reviewed in more detail later
The Books, in the order I read them:
When We Were Sisters (2022) by Fatimah Asghar - Novel (Literary Fiction)
Complex depiction of Muslim immigrant female experiences, family dynamics, and how people cope to get through difficult situations: I loved the portraits of three very different sisters.
Dinosaurs (2022) by Lydia Millet - Novel (Literary Fiction)
I wasn’t quite sure what to expect from this, but I loved the previous novel I read by Millet (A Children’s Bible [2020]) so I was on board even before it began. My favorite part was perhaps how Millet depicts a solitary independently wealthy male protagonist who is NOT being creepy (it’s possible!), and the complicated relationships he builds with the family that moves in next door (lots of fascinating bird stuff as well, as the cover might suggest).
*Heaven (2023) by Mieko Kawakami, translated from the Japanese by Sam Bett and David Boyd - Novel (Literary Fiction)
Whew, this is a novel that will knock your socks into a whole new dimension: beautiful and harrowing exploration of bullying and difference and philosophy and friendship and betrayal and identity (probably missed some stuff in that list as well) told by a compelling 14-year-old narrator.
*Manhunt (2022) by Gretchen Felker-Martin - Novel (Literary Horror)
A fascinating what-if: a virus based around testosterone levels turns all men into raving, rapacious beasts, leading to a society at odds with itself (the haves vs. have-nots, the TERFs [trans-exclusionary radical feminists] vs. trans/non-binary folks and their allies, survivors vs. ravaging men, etc.).
Trust the Plan: The Rise of QAnon and the Conspiracy That Unhinged America (2023) by Will Sommer - Nonfiction
Some incredible on-the-ground reporting and analysis by one of my favorite Daily Beast reporters and podcasters, Will Sommer (arguably, one of the reasons I’ve gotten through fewer books this year so far is my Very Healthy obsession with podcasts dissecting the far right movements and ideologies in the U.S., curses on Will Sommer and his Fever Dreams podcast!). One of my favorite parts deals with the real world fallout of a family member going full QAnon (which is excerpted here, if you’re interested), but there is also a ton of stuff I, who have immersed myself rather substantially, had never heard before—quite the feat.
*Remarkably Bright Creatures (2022) by Shelby Van Pelt - Novel (Literary Fiction)
Lovely tale about love and loss and redemption, as well as an aquarium, with sections featuring a wry, witty eight-limbed narrator: charming and uplifting novel, and a delightful palate cleanser after some fairly intense reads this month.
My Top 3 (in no particular order):
Heaven (2023) by Mieko Kawakami, translated from the Japanese by Sam Bett and David Boyd - Novel (Literary Fiction)
I’ve looked at a bunch of lists and posts and blurbs featuring this novel, and pretty much all of them proclaim Kawakami to be a genius. All I’ll add to that is: yup! Can’t think of a better word for it myself, and now I’ve added all her other translated work to my to-read pile. The novel’s protagonist is a 14-year-old boy with a “lazy” eye who is bullied mercilessly by his classmates. Eventually, he and another bullied classmate, a girl, become secret friends, writing each other notes, having clandestine meetings, and finding solace where they can while rarely acknowledging their shared trauma. Eventually, they are found out by their tormentors, and things come to a chaotic and fracturing climax. The things that happen throughout the novel are bracing: the cruelty, the way the narrator (referred to as “Eyes”) seemingly accepts his treatment without fighting back, the silence he and his only friend, Kojima, wreathe around the subject of their treatment by their classmates, etc. And yet, they are rendered in such compelling and gorgeous prose that I could not put it down (pretty sure I finished it the same day I started it). One of the most affecting scenes is when the narrator finally faces one of his tormentors and asks him why he bullies: the conversation will leave you cold and introspective and reevaluating what you think of human nature. There is also an incredible exploration of what it means to be bonded by trauma, how difference impacts identity, what it might mean if that difference could be “fixed," and much more.
Good quote: “But I wasn’t crying because I was sad. I guess I was crying because we had nowhere else to go, no choice but to go on living in this world. Crying because we had no other world to choose, and crying at everything before us, everything around us.”
Manhunt (2022) by Gretchen Felker-Martin - Novel (Literary Horror)
This one is definitely not going to be for everyone, and I am not usually one who seeks out horror, literary or otherwise. However, when I saw my friend Isle McElroy while Ally and I were in New York this past winter, and they told me about this novel, I was enthralled and immediately went to find it at the Strand. It’s a play on the zombie novel where all men have become monsters, so it definitely has gore and violence, perhaps a bit more center-focus than the average post-apocalyptic novel, but if you have watched or read Game of Thrones or watched or played The Last of Us (from what I understand, since I have done neither for The Last of Us), then I’d say you should be okay. I think I described the vibes as “28 Days Later meets Jordan Peele’s recent movies” to Ally. And the Jordan Peele-ishness of it all is where this novel really shines. Felker-Martin sets up the perfect world to do a deep-dive into the roles of gender in society, rape culture, and the intricacies of trans-experience, not to mention the self-harming effects of reactionary TERF-iness (among other more traditional apocalyptic themes). This is not new, but one of the things sci-fi and apocalyptic fiction can do is show the absurdity and pettiness of the prejudices people carry for one another when set against a threat to the entire species, and here that lens is focused on the absolute vitriol a large portion of the human population seems to direct at trans people. Hating trans people so much that you would try to destroy part of the fraction of humanity that survives is objectively unhinged. And the nature of the virus does a lot to elucidate the vast variations in biological sex and gender presentation: our two protagonists are two very different trans women for one. There are also trans men who were at relatively low testosterone at the moment when the virus hit, meaning they did not become unthinking beasts that just want to rape and harm. And the economy now runs on substances that can reduce or block testosterone. And a rich woman has a bunker and has instituted serfdom. It’s absolutely fascinating and thought-provoking and if you can get past some goriness and violence, I would urge you to pick it up and see for yourself. Also: sex. There’s a good amount of sex.
Good quote: “The women who looked at each other in a way Beth didn’t understand, a way sealed forever within the cold and rigid bounds of cis-ness but which nonetheless told her without room for doubt that they couldn’t leave too soon. That was what scared her. The women who stayed silent.”
Remarkably Bright Creatures (2022) by Shelby Van Pelt - Novel (Literary Fiction)
If you are not a fan of literary horror, on the other hand, then this is absolutely the book for you. In fact, I can’t think of anyone I wouldn’t recommend this novel to. It is lovely and heart-warming while still dealing with the messiness and pain that life can throw at you: losing first your high-school-aged son, then, many years later, your husband, then your brother. Having an absent mother who’s struggling with addiction. And just trying to talk to someone you have romantic feelings for without driving them away. Not to mention being a Giant Pacific Octopus held in captivity, approaching your final days. One of the things that I am sometime wary of is the use of non-human narrators in novels, but Marcellus the octopus, whose voice we hear briefly throughout the more human-centric chapters is a delight: super smart and with a dry humor that had me in stitches. A non-human character like this, when done well, allows for an outsiders perspective on the absurdities of human behavior and relationships (the fact that most people seem not to be able to tell a blood relative based solely on gait is absolutely baffling to Marcellus for instance). And it also allows for me as reader to text the person who recommended the book to me (shout out to Maura) that I was getting emotional over the friendship between Marcellus and one of the other main protagonists, Tova—an aging and grief-weary woman who cleans the aquarium at night. The final perspective we get is a young screwup named Cameron who can’t seem to hold down a job or keep a girlfriend, and who in a fit of desperation, buys a beat up camper to get to a fictional small town on Puget Sound. The intersections between these characters come about naturally, and I found the revelations, when they come, well-earned. The cast of secondary characters is also a delight. Just good vibes all around, in my head similar to those I got from Eleanor Oliphant Is Completely Fine (2017) by Gail Honeyman, which I also loved. Highly recommend!
Good quote: “It seems to be a hallmark of the human species: abysmal communication skills. Not that any other species are much better, mind you, but even a herring can tell which way the school it belongs to is turning and follow accordingly. Why can humans not use their millions of words to simply tell one another what they desire?”
In Case You Missed It:
Sometimes I find myself terribly amusing, so I did an April Fools post, which you can find here:
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Hey! Have you read any Marie-Helene Bertino? The last description you gave made me think you'd like 2 A.M. at the Cat's Pajamas, which is somewhere on my list of all time favorite feel-good books.