My January in reading

I thought December was ridiculous—and then I read TEN BOOKS in January. The pages are a nice place to hibernate for the winter.

Bliss Montage by Ling Ma

I was a big fan of Ling Ma’s capitalism-is-the-real-zombie novel Severance when I read it a few years ago, so I was excited to dive into her latest short story collection, which I received as a Christmas gift. These stories are like sharp facets in a strangely-cut diamond. They’re wonderfully surreal—and often address misogyny. My favorites were “Returning,” where a woman writer travels with her husband—also a writer—to his home country of Garboza for the transformative Morning Festival; “Office Hours,” in which a professor finds a very special kind of escape from the pressures of life; and “Tomorrow,” which follows a woman carrying an unusual pregnancy on her first visit back to the country of her birth.

[insert] boy by Danez Smith

I’ve had this poetry collection sitting on my shelf for ages—I was happy to finally dig into it. Smith is ubiquitous now, so it’s interesting to read their earlier work—the poems are physical, ferocious. They take big juicy bites out of their subjects, whether those subjects are extremely personal or broadly sociological (or both). It’s the sort of collection that makes you sigh and hold your breath in equal measure. I recommend it.

Annie John by Jamaica Kincaid

This was my first time reading anything by Kincaid, and I didn’t know what to expect. Had I known the novel was essentially a collection of linked stories about a young girl growing up in Antigua, I might have adjusted my headspace accordingly. Perhaps that’s why I didn’t enjoy the book—though it did have its moments, moments that I wish were more concretely connected to other moments. At the end, our heroine sails away to Europe to become a nurse—I would have liked to read that novel! The most compelling aspect was her antagonistic relationship with her mother, their love for each almost terrifying in its persistence.

Costalegre by Courtney Maum

Drop a 15-year-old girl into a remote Mexican resort with her selfish, ultra-wealthy mother and a bunch of famous surrealist artists on the eve of World War II—what could go wrong?! I loved this novel, inspired by the true story of Peggy Guggenheim and her daughter, Pegeen. Fifteen is such a perfect age for our protagonist in this story. Lara (the Pegeen character) is not quite a child, not quite an adult—old enough to understand that she’s not exactly safe around these artists, and certainly not loved by them; young enough to want to be loved and taken seriously by them. It is an immense relief that the worst that could happen doesn’t happen. Trust me, it’s not a spoiler! Definitely pick up this book if you enjoy historical fiction.

A Lamp Brighter than Foxfire by Andrew S. Nicholson

Andy was getting his PhD at UNLV while I was getting my MFA; I’d read a few of the poems in this collection before, but not the whole thing. I imagine Andy’s poems as rose petals scattered on the pages—tender and velvety, sweet-smelling, not yet dried, despite the book having been published 8 years ago. Lots of religion, lots of travel—especially to Italy. “Onion” is my favorite.

Boy, Snow, Bird by Helen Oyeyemi

I’ve heard nothing but universal praise for Oyeyemi’s work, so I couldn’t wait to read this 1950s retelling of Snow White involving race relations in America. And I loved it—it was enthralling, so well-written. I was prepared to shove a copy into the hands of literally every person I know—until I got to the wildly transphobic ending. I read the last 20 pages or so twice; I couldn’t believe I was reading what I was reading. And if it was that horrifying to me, a cis woman, I can only imagine how horrifying it must be to a trans or nonbinary person. I’m unsure how this transphobia has slipped through the cracks in Oyeyemi’s legacy, but I’m extremely reluctant to read anything else of hers.

The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo by Stieg Larsson (translated from the Swedish by Reg Keeland; narrated by Simon Vance)

I initially read The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo at the peak of its popularity in the U.S.—maybe around 2010 or 2011? I distinctly remember reading it on my commute to work at my first job out of college. But since I was planning a trip to Sweden (more on that in my future February reading post), I decided it was time for a re-read—or a re-listen, as it were. Overall it held up, though Simon Vance is not very good at doing female voices. I was more annoyed with Blomkvist this time around, but I think the book wanted me to be annoyed with him and I just didn’t notice as much when I was younger. I found the ending highly improbable. I was delighted by how many sandwiches the characters consumed. It’s a solid crime novel, if that’s what you’re looking for!

The Mercies by Kiran Millwood Hargrave

This novel takes place in 1600s Norway, as far north in the country as you can get. After all the small village’s men die in a tragic fishing accident, the king sends a Scottish witch hunter to investigate and punish the women—who have been surviving on their own—for nature’s cruelty. The Mercies is wonderfully atmospheric, and the dynamics of village life were interesting. The sapphic relationship between the witch hunter’s refined wife and one of the village women was less interesting. It might have been more believable if they’d had actual conversations. Despite this, I enjoyed the book, and would recommend it if you like historical fiction.

Earthly Delights and Other Apocalypses by Jen Julian

I picked up this collection at the 2020 AWP Conference—right before the pandemic—when I had the pleasure of reading with Jen Julian at an off-site event. I want to call this a science-fiction collection, but the characters’ relationships stand out to me more than the sci-fi. Yes, there are houses that shrink or expand depending on your perspective, and there are boy toys grown in gardens, and human-anglerfish marriages. But the dynamics between the human wife and her anglerfish husband—his determination to write a memoir, her resentment that he can only accomplish that feat through her—is what I remember. It was a more poignant story than it was silly. Julian is immensely talented, and I look forward to seeing what comes next for her.

Horrorstör by Grady Hendrix

Are you looking for a fun horror novel? Horrorstör is fun—and funny, and gross, and sad when it needs to be, but not too sad. This is the first of Hendrix’s books that I’ve read, and I can see why people like his work so much. The IKEA parody was pitch-perfect—and the fact that the book is designed as a knockoff IKEA catalog meant there were lots of spooky Easter eggs to find. I’m definitely going to check out his other stuff—and I’m never going to think of enormous roadside big-box stores the same way.