Some books that you may not have heard of or perhaps didn’t know were good book

10866233The second part of wrapping up my year’s reading is talking about all the books that were a surprise to me: the favorites that came out of nowhere. In many cases, these books were only a surprise to me, since some of them (most of them) were actually bestsellers within their categories. But still, you probably haven’t heard of lots of them, so whatevs, I will claim credit for discovering them.

Mentor by Tom Grimes – Fantastic book. One of the best writer memoirs I’ve ever read. It’s about a writing professor who made a big splash with his debut novel and then sold a much-hyped follow-up, but who never quite lived up to his initial promise. Here he charts both the decline of his career and the progression of his friendship with the famed director of the Iowa Writer’s Workshop: Frank Conroy. This book is honest and sad but also very alive. I’ve never read anything else like it.

Friendship by Emily Gould – The internet loves to hate on Emily Gould. In fact, this summer some dude published a twelve thousand word article about how terrible she is. And yes, I can sort of see how someone might be annoyed by her article about blowing through a 160k book advance or the blog post about negotiating down her credit card debt. But I thought this novel was fantastic. I stayed up all night reading it, and it made me feel emotions. It’s about two aspiring writers who live in Brooklyn and are best friends and are sort of getting to the place where they want more stability in their lives but they don’t have that stability and they’re having issues with their professions and their personal lives and those issues eventually start to damage their friendship. Great stuff. Very vivid. It’s also about people who’re a lot like me, and that’s part of what I like about it.

Angel by Elizabeth Taylor – A character study. Angel is a working-class girl in early 20th century Britain who decides, one day, that she’s going to write books. And then she does: horrible, schlocky, romance novels that horrify the literary world. And she also has a very brutish, nasty disposition and abuses everyone in her life. But I loved the book and, on some level, I also loved Angel herself. She has such an indomitable will to survive. I suppose she’s a lot like Scarlett O’Hara, but without that veil of flirtatiousness. The section where Angel falls in love is one of the subtlest and most remarkable performances in literature.

The List by Vivian Siobhan – I somehow thought that everyone in the YA world knew about this one, but I was at a lunch with a bunch of other YA writers and they hadn’t heard of it. This book is amazing. One of the two best YA novels I read this year (the other was Tim Tharp’s Spectacular Now). The book is about a school where an anonymous prankster releases an annual list of the most beautiful and ugliest girls in each grade. The novel is told from the point of view of the 8 girls named in this year’s list, and it’s a stunning performance. Eight points of view. Eight stories. Four different grades. And each voice is so distinct. I was captivated.

My Salinger Year by Joanna Rakoff – This was the year where I read a lot of really good literary memoirs. In this one, Rakoff describes her first year in New York, when she worked for JD Salinger’s literary agent. The ‘hook’ for the memoir is that Rakoff at some point started answering Salinger’s fan-mail. But that’s not what the book is about. It’s really just about being very young and still feeling entranced by the glamor of the literary life and the way that glamor contrasts with the squalid way you need to live if you’re part of that life. Everything in this book, from the agency to the character of Salinger himself, has that dualism: beautiful from one angle, but very lonely and wretched from another.

As I Crossed The Bridge of Dreams by the Sarashina woman – A memoir by an anonymous court lady in Heian Japan. Written a thousand years ago, but instantly captivating, from the very first paragraph. Also, a very interesting and calculated document. It is not a diary. It was written as a single, unitary document when the woman was nearing the end of her life. And it’s a sort of ode to the interstices of her life. To the quiet moments. To the romantic moments that never came. To the journeys she took between one place and another. To the times when she was shut up alone and all by herself. She spends maybe three sentences talking about her children and her husband, but goes on for pages upon pages about the man that she met on one rainy autumn day and how he asked her which was her favorite season.

Dept of Speculation by Jenny Ofill – In very short vignettes, this chronicles a young writer’s journey into marriage, success, domesticity, motherhood, and divorce. Loved it. Each little paragraph has so much voice. And the picture that develops is so careful and nuanced.

Truth and Beauty by Ann Patchett – The third literary memoir on this list. Novelist Ann Patchett writes about her lifelong friendship with Sarah Lawrence and University of Iowa classmate Lucy Grealey (Lucy was, in turn, famous for writing a memoir about the facial deformity that had rendered her mostly chinless). I loved the portrait of Lucy that develops in this novel. She’s capricious and bitchy, but you also see why Patchett loved her. Also interesting to see the ups and downs of a young writer’s life. Very honest look at the schooling, at the fellowships, and at the financial aspect of the writing life.

Angel, by Elizabeth Taylor

coverWhenever people pontificate on the schlock vs. art divide, they forget one thing: it all pretty much feels the same when you’re writing it. I mean, if you go and read an interview by anyone–Stephanie Meyer, John Grisham, Kenny G, Thomas Kinkade, or whichever other artist you particularly dislike–you’ll see that the emotional, spiritual, and mental process that they go through in making their bad art is pretty similar to the one that your favorite artist goes through in making his or her good art.

Furthermore, in terms of your life and your struggle, it’s also pretty much the same. Schlocky artists also have to struggle to practice their art. They’re also rejected by their families. They also have to endure rejection and years of failure. I think there’s this feeling (at least in literary circles) that schlocky artists somehow have everything handed to them on a platter and that the agony of literary writers comes from their high-minded refusal to compromise. That is not at all true. There are tons of people whose highest ambition–the height of their artistic dreams–is to write the next Twilight. And they are failing! They are spending years of their life on this effort. They are enduring hundreds of rejections. They are crying themselves to sleep at night and slowly drinking themselves to death…all because no one will recognize the genius of their vampire-werewolf-love-triangle novel.

You know who does get this? Elizabeth Taylor (the British author, not the recently-dead film actress). Her novel Angel is about a working-class British girl, growing up at the beginning of the 20th century, who starts to pen extremely popular romances. I highly recommend the book. You won’t necessarily like the protagonist (the author of this book certainly doesn’t), but there’s something so compelling about Angel Deverell. You can feel the immense force of will that she possesses and the vast reserves of feeling that are welling up inside her. Even though I knew that everything was going to turn out badly for her, I always hoped against hope that she’d get everything that she wanted.

The book also, I think, really gets at the class divide that separates popular art from high art. Angel clearly has talent. Why does she write bodice-ripper romances instead of well-observed studies of every-day life? It’s partly a question of education…and partly a question of need. She doesn’t value things that make her see the world around her. She already sees far too much of the world around her. What she values are things that take her to a different place. The book makes you see how difficult it is, if you’re an intelligent and sensitive young working-class person, to have such a strong desire for preeminence and to live in a world that will never give it to you.