🏆 = #1
⭐️ = top 5
🙅🏽♀️ = DNF
Started the year out so strong with this sweeping, epic 1980s-era portrait of queer men in Chicago during the start of the AIDS crisis. This book was about everything – so many layers, characters, stories, and impossibly sad, beautiful moments. Very different from her other book, which I also loved. Top 5 for the year all the way. Also, do not sleep on Makkai’s incredible Substack.
Recommended by my brother after he bought it off a staff picks shelf here in Savannah. This book completely blew my mind: a story about a woman raising four chickens. That’s it, that’s the story – and yet not at all. To me, this was a perfect book. Every word counted. I read an interview with Polzin after finishing in which she says it took her 8 years to write it, which made me love it even more. Came very, very close to 🏆 for this year.
Excellent, clever blend of personal essay/memoir and eviscerating cultural critique. It feels lucky to live on the planet at the same time as writers who are this smart and insightful. At times, I got lost in the political analysis but didn’t mind. I trusted Klein to pull me through to meaningful reflection of the whirligig moment we’ve been living in, and she delivered all the way.
My year in reading was basically downhill from here. It’s hard to explain how deeply I loved this book though I tried to in a fairly clumsy fashion.
This story’s unnamed narrator works as a government drone for a futuristic program that oversees time travelers, only to find herself falling in love with one. I laughed, I cried, I wrote down pages and pages of quotes as good as this one:
Forgiveness, which takes you back to the person you were and lets you reset them. Hope, which exists in a future in which you are new. Forgiveness and hope are miracles. They let you change your life. They are time travel.
Every human should read this book.
One of many epic family novels I read this year. The portrayal of 1980s Long Island and New York life felt so immersive and complete. The detail of all the characters’ inner turmoil completely drew me in though at times I struggled to connect emotionally. The sense of dread as everyone buried themselves further into holes was hard to sit with at times, which I’m sure is the point.
Grateful to Substack for introducing me to Nancy’s work via her terrific newsletter, Be Less Careful. This was a beautiful memoir-turned-exploration of attachment theory and the brutality of motherhood. An interesting pairing with one of my all-time faves, Strange Situation by Bethany Saltman. I recommended Nancy’s book to most of my clients this year.
I listened to this book for months. It seemed to never end. And though I couldn’t stand the main character and found myself at times rooting for her demise, the story surprised me in the end by becoming a larger reflection on the fun-house mirror experience of navigating maternal relationships while mothering.
Another lucky Substack find. Emily’s Substack was an early discovery here, and when I found it, I knew this was the place for me. This book was gorgeous, and also made me wish I had held on to some of the muscle of my English major brain. After reading Red Comet a few years ago, Loving Sylvia Plath was a brilliant alternate bio, impeccably researched, and full of so much heart it practically bled. This book also came along at the exact right moment for me.
I’d heard so much praise for this book, it’s possible my hopes were too high. It was an interesting, dark portrayal of a sisterhood in all its wildness. It also made me pine for the mythic, haunted cold of the Pacific Northwest. A quick weekend read, entertaining, but not super memorable.
I never would have read a book like this if a copy given by a friend hadn’t shown up exactly in between library books. Nothing about Vietnam nurses sounded remotely interesting, and for whatever reason, I thought I was above Kristin Hannah books. How excellent to be wrong! I couldn’t put this down. Frankie McGrath is a terrific character, and the story arc from youthful idealism through trauma to revolution truly swept me up. Planning to dive into more of Hannah’s opus next year.
I definitely enjoyed the hot French intellectualism of this one. It made me pine for another life in a Paris apartment with lots of Lacanian analysis and sex. The writing was beautiful and it was a quick, quiet book. At times, the characters ran dry and uninteresting for me though, and ultimately I didn’t miss it.
I did not love this memoir of sex, abuse, eating disorders, and exercise addiction though I appreciated the effort at radical vulnerability. It all felt a bit showy though, and ultimately I’ve been spoiled by the adjacent but superior work of writers like Melissa Febos and Leslie Jamison.
Grateful to Amanda Montei for sharing the Combahee River Collective Statement in her wonderful reading group this year. The book offered even more history, interviews, and stories from these inimitable women. It felt so good to get to know their voices.
Not sure I would have read or enjoyed this book much without a Brooklyn connection. It’s another sweeping family epic about one-percenters whose lives are all a mess. It was entertaining, easy to read, but ultimately forgettable.
I am so lucky to have read my sister’s third novel before it was published this fall. I am in a permanent state of awe at her steadfastness, true heart, and unending hard work.
Another entertaining, sprawling, multigenerational family drama. I enjoyed this one, and the various trauma-redemption arcs were interesting and complex. The added twist of fertility science drama was cool. It was long and meandered quite a bit toward the end but I was glad to hang in.
What a totally wild, captivating read. I found myself sitting in the car after parking, unable to stop listening to this audiobook. The writing was so spare, so exacting, it completely reflected the deprived/lonely world it portrayed. I couldn’t believe how much suspense was built into a story where not very much happened at all.
A re-read that could have been a first read since I had virtually no memory of it. I was surprised by how hard I had to work to understand this. Similar to my classic read from last year, Middlemarch, I got lost in the layers of each sentence easily, and could feel all my atrophied thinking muscles creaking back to life. It’s hard to imagine the power it must have taken to imagine and execute a work so brilliant.
I didn’t really get the hype for this book. There was definitely an allure to the high-school-romance, sexually charged, boarding-school drama of it all. But ultimately I found the characters boring and was totally unmoved by the writing.
This book read more like a poem – quick and fluid, all in first-person plural. This added such immediacy and intimacy to the writing. I read it in a flash, remember enjoying it, but now don’t recall much of the detail.
After totally loving Leave the World Behind, I was excited to read this but ultimately disappointed. I never could connect with the main character, Brooke, and found the focus on money and material gain tedious and uninteresting. The race element, too, felt hollow and forced.
I was surprised how captivated I was for the first half of this historical novel about an Indian woodcarver in the 19th century. The story was exciting, layered, and so creative. But ultimately it petered out and the last half of the adventure lost my interest.
This was a wild ride, if anything for the sheer amount of drugs consumed by the author in her memoir about dancing, raves, techno music, and Brooklyn in the early 2000s. It definitely satisfied a nostalgic craving, and I loved the juxtaposition of her night life with her day life as a writer and editor. By the end though I felt exhausted with and for her, and the exposition of the toxic relationship at the center of the story felt quite yucky by the end.
Such a total pleasure to read Bechdel again after her last two graphic memoirs (not to mention the gorgeous musical Fun Home) were a 100% delight. This story was less enticing but all the details of her life with her partner and their totally dreamy queer community were still completely terrific.
I’d looked forward to this for so long, and was completely moved by the opening essays about Hustvedt’s relationship with her mother. Ultimately though, I got lost in the later essays that were decidedly more academic. In another phase of life I would have eaten it up, but in this current phase, it was a struggle.
This book was strange. I struggled to stay engaged and actually stopped and started it several times. Another sweeping family epic: the story of siblings struggling to adjust to life after the death of their mother. The point of view was interesting – one of the siblings as omniscient narrator – but I never quite understood the purpose of it. At times it seemed forced and over-complicating. I know this was a beloved book by many, but it just didn’t hit for me.
I’ve seen this book pretty much everywhere and was definitely not going to miss a story of lesbians in space. It was entertaining, a quick read, and in many ways felt similar to The Women in terms of exploring a military-adjacent world that does not allow women full identities. It was cheesy though and ultimately made me want to just re-watch Gravity instead.
This book was such an amazingly enjoyable read. I am in complete admiration for the depth and detail of Lee’s writing and characters. This story of a Korean-American immigrant navigating life, work, money, fashion, and family in New York City in the 90s, totally won my heart. Casey Han is one of the most interesting and flawed characters I’ve read in a long time and I just completely adored her. I was so very sad when this book was over.
I barely missed a beat between these two, wanting so badly to stay in Min Jin Lee’s world. This heartbreaking, gorgeous multigenerational family epic was completely different from Free Food, taking place mostly in 19th and early 20th century Korea and Japan. Reading these two books has made me realize I know absolutely nothing about these cultures or histories. I can’t wait to read more from this author in the future. I mourned this book ending by watching the Apple TV series, which was also totally gorgeous.
This quick, electric book about a panel of Mennonite women responding to a series of sexual assaults in their community reads more like a play or a manifesto. The questions at the center are so profoundly cultivated, it felt like I could apply this book to any dilemma: Should we do nothing, stay and fight, or leave?
Still haven’t seen Sarah Polley’s movie adaptation but it’s on my list and I can’t wait for it.
Millet is such a gorgeous writer but this collection of interrelated short stories totally bored me. I couldn’t connect with any of the characters and the intrigue felt forced. Reading this made me wonder if I’m just out of practice with short-story form.
This book was fun, and definitely made me want to fall in love. The highly academic romance between the main character and her new paramour was a bit tedious to read but overall, it was a great portrait of a marriage outgrown and a woman becoming herself.
Happened upon this book because it was available on Libby and it was incredible! Super stressful to read but so imaginative, playful, complicated, and efficiently written. One of the best in the speculative fiction realm for me.
Fun and juicy, this felt like it was in an interesting conversation with books like Nightbitch, All Fours, and even Crush. Like reading those, it felt reviving and inspiring to read a story of a woman liberated from the confines of marriage but also from her own confining expectations of sexuality, power, and identity.
This formed a kind of trifecta with Crush and Animal Instinct, all taking place in a kind of fantasy land of women’s post-marriage evolution, so much so that I’m almost confusing them for each other. Still, the sense of lingering doom and hauntedness through Margaret’s narrative was so effective. The portrayal of how it feels having to be vigilant all the time, even while asleep, was deeply moving.
Tbh, I love everything Calhoun writes, and after reading Crush, it was great to be back in her nonfiction world. This memoir of her relationship with her dad is paired with something like a biography of Frank O’Hara, all of it set against the backdrop of East and West Village NYC life through the decades. Which is to say, it’s full of nostalgia that hit just right. The final section was so gorgeous and heartbreaking, it absolutely floored me. This book also inspired me to give a copy of Lunch Poems to my 11 year old for Christmas this year.
I’m a true Febos superfan and will always rush to read her every word, so this was an obvious win. It was my first time with one of her audio books though, and even though she narrates beautifully, I wish I’d read it instead. It felt harder to stay engaged while listening though I still found myself pulling over periodically to write down excerpts.
I started this really hoping for something like Brood, but I guess snails just don’t resonate as good as chickens? I was bored and completely annoyed by the narrator’s meandering reflection on life in a sick bed with a snail friend.
This was recommended by a good friend who’s a terrific reader but I read half and had to quit because I absolutely couldn’t stand it. The writing felt so lazy, so contrived, and the story was just uninteresting to me. I’d had high hopes for a nostalgic tale of 14-year-old love lost, trauma, etc. but I couldn’t wait to return this one to the library.
Just finished this morning because I couldn’t bear to bring this book into 2026 with me. Again, I don’t understand the hype. It started out fascinating – the world of retention centers was creative, creepy, and effective. But after the book’s first third or so, it totally ground to a halt. I never connected with the narrator, Sara, and found the intrigue of her prison world convoluted and uninteresting. This book was also so overshadowed by the brilliance of others from this year that occupied similar worlds (see: Hum, I Who Have Never Known Men). The ending recovered a bit and the resolution worked for the most part, but I’m not sad to return this one either.
Overall, my final 3 from 2025 were a super bummer, but I’m grateful for and proud of the time I spent in the worlds of others this year.
What did you read this year that you loved or hated? What were in your top 5? And if you read any of these here, please share your takes below!
No posts
Comments
Nothing yet. Say the first thing.
Sign in to join the conversation.