I’m quite late to the party with this post. The internet tells me we are 55.75% through the year as of today, but I think that’s still close enough to talk about being halfway-ish through the year. And there are so many books I haven’t had a good opportunity to share with you yet. So here you go!
First, a few observations. Because I write about books (and talk a lot about books and spend a lot of time reading), people presume I’m a fast reader. But I’m actually a really slow reader. I imagine the voices. I daydream. I get distracted. And for years and years, there’s been a little voice in my head telling me to go back and read a line over and over again. I just spend a lot of time reading to balance this out.
Many of the books I read are library books, which is fortunate because Danish books are some of the most highly taxed in the world (boo, hopefully this is changing soon). Some are ebooks. And I’m listening to quite a few audiobooks at the moment, which makes things easier with a one-year-old in my care. (Although it’s still surprisingly tricky. She likes a lot of attention – rightly so – and also likes to pull my earbuds out.)
Grouped by type of book and ordered chronologically within each section, I hope you enjoy following my reading journey so far this year. I’d love to hear your favourites too!
The Correspondent* by Virginia Evans. It’s no secret how much I loved this. A celebration of writing letters! About a grumpy woman who finds hope, healing, and second chances! Since reading The Correspondent, I’ve been sending so many letters and postcards, which absolutely isn’t a coincidence. I was slow to pick this one up, but as my first book of the year, it was a truly excellent choice.
This, My Second Life by Patrick Charnley. Set in the Cornish countryside and narrating one man’s healing journey after a brain injury, this book is infused with such gentle kindness. I didn’t love the direction the plot went as pages turned (why can’t we just read about him eating home-cooked food and going on walks and gardening), but I get that most people prefer books in which things actually happen.
Still Life by Sarah Winman. This was a re-listen for me, and it was such a treat. Voyaging from an English pub to an Italian pensione, it’s packed with English humour, genuinely good people, second chances, and an adoration of art, craftsmanship, and love in all its forms. I know many of you love Still Life too, and I will never stop talking about it. Also, the audiobook is really special. Narrated by Sarah Winman herself, who has a background on the stage, it’s one of the best narrations I’ve ever listened to. I could listen to this on repeat quite happily.
Perfection by Vincenzo Latronico. It’s short. It’s scathing and satirical behind the shiny surface. And I wanted to know what everyone was reading on the train. My days of freelance work for tech clients are largely over (meaning much less money, much more contentment), but I could relate to an uncomfortable amount in here.
The Anthropologists by Ayşegül Savaş. Nothing much happens, but I liked this a lot more than Perfection. It also inspired this collection of peaceful slice-of-life films and books about everyday routines for nosy people like me.
Smith of Wootton Major by J.R.R. Tolkien. This lesser-known (and excellent) short story is shared in Tales from the Perilous Realm alongside other gems by Tolkien. Infused with magic, it’s perfect for bedtime reading.
The Offing* by Benjamin Myers. This book! Surely The Offing must be my book of the year, and if not, I can’t wait to see what takes the top spot. Benjamin Myers wrote this as a happy, sunshine-filled book to buoy his own spirits, and I am over the moon he did.
Tin Man by Sarah Winman. Considering my obsession with Still Life, I was long overdue a read of other Sarah Winman books. Tin Man will rip your heart out in the most beautiful and tender way.
Small Things Like These by Claire Keegan. I tried listening to this a year or so ago and couldn’t get into it. But I gave it another chance, and my goodness, it’s good. Full of kindness, it’s a stunning novella that I think is best savoured on paper.
The Things We Never Say by Elizabeth Strout. Although this wasn’t a book of the year for me, I will always love Elizabeth Strout. As usual, she crafts a stunningly perceptive look at being human and connecting with others.
“He had said something like, "why don't people ever say anything real?" And now he knew why. Because to say anything real was to say things that nobody wanted to know. Or if they wanted to know, they would not care in the right way. Or even understand. It was a private thing to be alive.”
– The Things We Never Say by Elizabeth Strout
A Wizard of Earthsea by Ursula K. Le Guin. After years of my husband imploring me to read the Earthsea books (and long admiring Le Guin’s poems and non-fiction), I finally read the first book of her classic fantasy series. And it’s glorious. My husband’s best advice is to constantly refer to the map, which Le Guin wonderfully created before she started writing the books. Here is said map, for your enjoyment and mine:
Go Gentle by Maria Semple. I started off loving this (Stoicism, goofiness, a non-witchy coven of middle-aged women in Manhattan who share dog walkers and theatre memberships), but it didn’t blow me away. The opening paragraph is an absolute delight, though:
“I slid the fried egg—extra crispy, embedded with cracked pink peppercorns—onto a nest of baby arugula centered atop a slice of toasted sourdough. I sharpened my paring knife with a few satisfying slashes and sliced four cornichons thin enough for light to pass through. Those I placed across the warm egg, chevron-style. I capped it all off with a second piece of toast, this one thick with lemon aioli. Or: I made a fried egg sandwich. But how you do anything is how you do everything, and one might say my life’s work has been chasing the Platonic ideal.”
– Go Gentle by Maria Semple
Whistler* by Ann Patchett. This is exactly the sort of book the world needs right now. Kind people caring for others, families brought together, unanswered questions resolved… just an all-round heartwarming story to make us all feel a bit better.
A Month in the Country by J.L. Carr. I knew I was going to fall instantly in love with the plot: a man reflects on his time in the English countryside healing and recuperating from the trauma of war while restoring art and making new friends. This pairs marvellously with The Offing, mentioned a few paragraphs above.
The Odyssey by Homer, translated by Emily Wilson. I first read Robert Fagles’ translation at university and have regularly thought of its opening line since: Sing to me of the man, Muse, the man of twists and turns. But my husband gifted me Emily Wilson’s excellent translation for our Jólabókaflóð exchange on December 24th after I’d been talking about it for years (it was published in 2018), and what a perfect time to finally read it. I’m planning to see the Christopher Nolan adaptation at the weekend and am very excited.
Glowrushes by Roberto Piumini, translated by Leah Janeczko. I picked up this Italian modern children’s classic because Philip Pullman shared that he loved it, and I am so glad I did. Just a little over 100 pages, it’s the story of a boy confined by sickness to his windowless bedchambers. He can’t run through meadows, wade in the sea, or climb trees, so his father tasks a painter with bringing the beauty of the wider world to him with huge, detailed murals.
Murder by Memory by Olivia Waite. Describing itself as Becky Chambers meets Miss Marple, this was a fun short sci-fi listen. Although the murder mystery part was all over the place, I loved the setting: a luxuriously comfortable interstellar passenger liner with cosy cafes, yarn shops, and a beautiful garden throughout the ship’s centre.
Cry When the Baby Cries by Becky Barnicoat. This is a work of genius that should be hand-delivered to each new parent, ideally alongside the baby themselves.
This Woman’s Work by Julie Delporte. Soft and gorgeous pastel tones are blended with fierce and sometimes heartbreaking storytelling in this graphic memoir. I loved so much about this, especially how it follows in the footsteps of Tove Jansson.
Just So Happens by Fumio Obata. A Japanese woman returns home from her new life in London upon the death of her father. I’m not sure what I expected, but I was surprised by how much I loved this.
Miss Ruki by Fumiko Takano. Joy in a book. This unconventional manga classic is oozing with simple delights, from afternoon naps to browsing the children’s section of the library. More thoughts here.
The Wreck by Lizzy Stewart. Two couples pursue their dream of communal living in the English countryside in this stunning illustrated novel. Part one is mostly dreamy and blissful, part two is when it all comes crashing down. Lizzy’s art is such a treat – and the hardcover a thing of beauty. Also file this under: I wish the happy first half could continue forever.
Spring by Michael Morpurgo. A charmingly gentle and perceptive memoir of waiting for spring and rejoicing in its arrival, penned by the beloved English children’s author from his farm in Devon. Perfect to read at the very end of winter as snowdrops appear.
Two Women Living Together by Kim Hana and Hwang Sunwoo. In this breath of fresh air in memoir form, the observations of two Korean friends living together with four cats come together for a cosy reflection on unconventional living. More thoughts here.
If I listed every single picture book I’ve read this year, this would be a very ungainly piece of writing indeed. You don’t need to know that I’ve read the entire catalogue of Spot the Dog, enough That’s Not My… books for an eternity, or Rod Campbell’s Dear Zoo more than any other book I’ve probably read in my life until now. But some shining gems did come through! Including:
Who Will Comfort Toffle? by Tove Jansson. This lesser-known gem from the author of The Moomins and other treasures is a balm for loneliness in refreshingly exuberant colour.
Woods & Words: The Story of Poet Mary Oliver by Sara Holly Ackerman and Naoko Stoop. A celebration of the work of Mary Oliver in picture book form? Yes please. I haven’t read this to my daughter and am reminded just how much I love reading picture books for myself.
Goldfinches by Mary Oliver and Melissa Sweet. Gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous. “Have you heard them singing in the wind, above the final fields? / Have you ever been so happy in your life?”
The Wolf, The Duck & The Mouse by Mac Barnett. “I may have been swallowed,” says the duck, “but I have no intention of being eaten.” This picture book is a modern masterpiece.
Odds and Ends* by Maija Hurme, translated by Mia Spangenberg. This is such an incredibly special book. A collection of “lasts” instead of “firsts,” it’s extremely beautiful, equally wistful, and may well make you cry.
That’s all! I’ll see you on Sunday for the next Lookaftering installment (hopefully including thoughts on The Odyssey).
Love,
Lucy
P.S. My Bookshop.com links are affiliate links that help to support my writing, at no extra cost to you. You can also find your closest library copies on WorldCat (hurray for libraries!)
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