20(23) Books for 2024

Recommendations from last year's reading

Recommending books to people is one of my primary love languages. There is a special satisfaction that comes from a family member, friend, or acquaintance falling in love with a book I recommended. And there is a good reason for this. After all, according to C.S. Lewis, few things in life draw people closer together than a shared love. In his book, The Four Loves, Lewis points out that, “friendship must be about something, even if it were only an enthusiasm for dominoes or white mice. Those who have nothing can share nothing; those who are going nowhere can have no fellow-travelers.” Books, or more broadly stories, were, of course, one of the key “somethings” Lewis’ own friendships were about; particularly his friendship with J.R.R. Tolkien. So, to try and foster some online friendship, I share with you 20 books from my 2023 reading journey that I believe to be worth exploring. As much as my own reading preferences and tastes allow, I’ve tried to provide some variety to this list. Enjoy!

1. A Little Princess (Frances Hodgson Burnett): This book was a reread I began on a whim. I was in need of some lighter fare, and remembered with fondness the beautiful illustrations of the copy I own, a childhood birthday gift from my parents. According to C.S. Lewis, a children’s story that can only be enjoyed by adults is not a particularly good children’s book. Thankfully, A Little Princess is one of those special children’s books that even adults can find charming. Sarah Crewe’s determination to act “like a princess” despite the cruelty she endures after the loss of her father, and her fortune, is admirable. Despite her suffering, she refuses to let her tormentors degrade her sense of self-worth or her belief in doing the right thing. Finally, A Little Princess does what so few modern stories will do; it offers a happy ending. While not shying away from “realism” in its portrayal of poverty, classism, and servant abuse, Burnett refuses to let darkness and despair have the final word.

2. A Canticle for Leibowitz (Walter Miller Jr): I have the Close Reads podcast to thank for finally motivating me to pick this gem off of my “Too Read” pile(s). It is one of the best science fiction novels I have ever read. It looks at the importance of preserving knowledge and tradition in a world devastated by the self-destructive tendencies of our human race. In addition, it represents a nuanced vision of the relationship between faith and science, rather than the simplistic (and false) antagonistic narrative our society so often sells us. Finally, the structure of the novel (three parts with enormous time jumps in between) is an unusual one and raises questions about how we make sense out of the past, and whether or not we can learn from the past in order to create a better future.

3. Becoming Jane Austen (Jon Spence): It was a special treat to learn more about one of my favorite authors. Spence’s biography is very readable and is a good choice for anyone who, like me, knows very little about Austen as an individual. I really appreciated the way in which Spence explored Austen’s life through her extended family’s personal and financial history, as well as her relationship with key individuals like Tom Lefroy and Elizabeth de Feuillide. Occasionally, I didn’t buy some of the connections Spence drew between specific elements of Austen’s work and her life circumstances, but his speculations were nevertheless intriguing to consider.

4. Omeros (Derek Wolcott): This was arguably the most “brain stretching” read of 2023 for me. This modern epic poem is simultaneously a riff off of the Iliad, an autobiography, and a history of the island of Saint Lucia (the poem’s setting). The poem constantly shifts between different narratives, narrators, time periods, and places. It is a work that requires serious attention and serious patience from the reader. I found it helpful to read section summaries of the poem after I first read them myself. Yet, it was worth putting in the extra effort to read a poem that explores colonialism and its effects in such a unique way, and that plays with the western canon to do so.

5. Interpreter of Maladies (Jhumpa Lahiri): As with Omeros I originally purchased this book in order to expand my ‘reading horizons.’ I rarely read short stories, though that might very well change after having finished Lahiri’s work. Interpreter of Maladies is rife with unhappy endings, unhappy marriages, and unlikeable individuals. On the surface, therefore, it is not a book I would have expected to like. Yet, the beauty of Lahiri’s prose, and poignant moments of hope and connection amidst the many sorrows, kept me feverishly reading until the end.

6. A Tree Grows in Brooklyn (Betty Smith): As was the case with A Little Princess, I hadn’t read A Tree Grows in Brooklyn since I was a kid. The story is a classic coming of age tale centering on Francie Nolan. A budding writer and voracious reader, Francie is the daughter of impoverished parents who are themselves the children of immigrants. Smith does not shy away from portraying the ‘dark sides’ of Francie’s life. Alcoholism, sexual assault, discrimination, and religious doubt are all problems Francie must confront. Yet, Francie maintains her ability to find beauty and hope in the midst of her difficulties. Furthermore, there is something incredibly touching in the way Francie and her family (both immediate and extended) continue to love and stick with each another, despite their imperfections.

7. The Memory of Old Jack (Wendell Berry): My second Wendell Berry novel of the year focuses on the life of Jack Beechum, a key character in the fictional world of Port William that is the setting for most of Berry’s works. Old and on the verge of entering into the life to come, Jack spends a day remembering the joys and sorrows of his ordinary extraordinary life in Port William. Despite his serious character flaws, it is impossible to grow fond of Old Jack. He has made mistakes, suffered, and has learned to love others better as a result. He mourns the changes wrought by industrialization, from the breakdown of localized and life-giving communities to the emergence of television and atomic bombs. Yet, despite the melancholy of much of the book, it ends on a hopeful note, with those who loved Jack knowing they will keep his “memory” alive.

8. The Language of God: A Scientist Presents Evidence for Belief (Francis Collins): In this easy to read book, Francis Collins, former director of the National Human Genome Research Institute and appointee to the Pontifical Academy of Sciences, recounts the ways in which his Christian faith is complementary to, rather than in opposition to, his vocation as a scientist. I found the discussion of different evolutionary theories especially fascinating, and Collins’ personal story of confrontation with “the problem of evil” extremely moving. Collins is a salutary reminder that Christians need not massage or ignore scientific facts in defending their faith, and that secularists should not assume scientific truth has somehow replaced the Truths of faith.

9. The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie (Muriel Sparks): Sparks’ novel explores the profound (and pernicious) affect that the titular Miss Brodie, a Scottish schoolteacher, has on the girls she chooses to make part of her “set.” One of my favorite elements of Sparks’ masterpiece is how adroitly she switches between past and present in her novel. Few authors can pull off this sort of shifting narrative, and she absolutely nails it. I’m also a sucker for any novel set in Scotland, where my husband and I went on our honeymoon (and where we would 100% be living if it weren’t for the whole living across the ocean from our family).

10. Delta Wedding (Eudora Welty): I wrote my first Substack piece on this for a reason. It’s complex, beautifully written, thought-provoking, and fully immerses you in a particular culture and time period.

11. Wives and Daughters (Elizabeth Gaskell): If you haven’t read any of Gaskell’s novels, you need to remedy that immediately. Gaskell is one of those authors I wish I’d discovered much earlier in life, because then I would have had more time to read her work. A Victorian writer whose social conscience is reminiscent of Dickens, and whose talent for writing satisfying romances could give Austen a run for her money, Gaskell deserves far more recognition than she gets. Wives and Daughters centers on Molly Gibson, whose life is upended when her widowed father remarries a rather foolish and selfish woman; herself a widow with a daughter (Cynthia) near Molly’s age. Despite serious differences in their moral outlook and life experiences, Molly and Cynthia form a close bond. Gaskell uses their contrasting personalities to explore female education, the importance of parental role models, the 19th century marriage market, and more. Throughout the novel, Gaskell has fun riffing on the basic Cinderella narrative while creating incredibly complex characters and exploring their role in the larger community. Note-this novel was left just unfinished by Gaskell’s untimely death, so the last ‘chapter’ is a summary of her intentions as related by her editor, Frederick Greenwood. It’s tragic, but a very well done BBC adaptation can provide the romantic denouement readers (like myself) long for.

12. The Overstory (Richard Powers): There are some people who might dislike this book because of its unequivocal, and often condemnatory, environmental message. Those people should give it another chance. Because this book has so much to offer readers in the way of superb characterization, intricate plotting, and beautiful prose. My heart broke many times reading this book, but I also caught glimmers of a cautious hopefulness, a belief that we, as humans, can shake off our selfishness and reach out in compassion and gratitude towards both the natural world and our fellow human beings.

13. One Corpse Too Many (Ellis Peters): Yet another book about monks that I read this year (in this case a reread). This time, rather than a group of monks trying to save civilization in a post-apocalytpic world, we have one monk trying to save a young couple from capture in the midst of the English Anarchy. Our hero is Brother Cadfael, a herbalist and former crusader who came to his religious vocation late in life. Attending to the bodies of those who have been executed in the wake of King Stephen’s attack on Shrewsbury (adjacent to Cadfael’s abbey), he discovers that there is an extra corpse. Cadfael sets himself the task of solving this extra-judicial murder while helping the aforementioned couple (partisans of King Stephen’s political rival) escape Stephen’s clutches. While any murder mystery lover will find much to enjoy in Cadfael’s sleuthing, it is the meticulously created world of medieval England (both its joys and its sorrows) and the sincere faith of Brother Cadfael that drew me into this book, and the others in the series.

14. Quicksand (Nella Larsen): I wrote a longer post about this harrowing work and can’t recommend it enough. It is probably the most emotionally taxing book I read last year, but it is also one of the most powerful. Larsen’s novel, a work of the Harlem Renaissance, centers on the efforts of Helga Crane, a mixed-race woman based on Larsen herself, to find happiness and belonging in a hostile world. It is not a book with a happy ending, but it is a book that realistically portrays the ways in which a lack of community, prejudice, loss, and religious disillusionment can break a person down.

15. A Wizard of Earthsea (Ursula K. LeGuin): I read this book for the first time as a result of my job as an online tutor. It is a fascinating work of fantasy. Like Tolkien, LeGuin employs ‘textual ruins’: references to, and glimpses of, the larger cultural and historical world (Earthsea) in which her particular story is set. Like traditional epics, the story is told by an omniscient narrator, with frequent references to the main character’s future deeds. Ged himself is a fascinating protagonist, an impetuous and ambitious magical prodigy who must suffer into truths about who he is and the limits of his powers. The story borrows heavily from Taoist philosophy, which I found to be a unique contrast to the usual Greek pagan/Christian philosophical underpinnings of the fantasy I read.

16. Sermons in Stone: The Stonewalls of New England and New York (Susan Allport): I bought this book because I’ve lived in New England my whole life, and last year was the first full year I spent in my own historic New England home. I adore the picturesque stone walls of my native land, and I was so excited to find this book at my local library. Learning about the history, uses, construction techniques, and types of the stone walls I drive by on a daily basis has added a little bit of enchantment to my everyday life. As I look at these remnants of the past, I am reminded over and over again that if I look closely, there are forgotten wonders all around me.

17. Death on a Friday Afternoon: Meditations on the Last Words of Jesus from the Cross (Richard John Neuhaus): This was a Lenten read last year, and a very rich read it was. Reflecting on the seven last words of Christ is a traditional Christian practice, though one I’d never really engaged with. Neuhaus offers very rich, and at times challenging, meditations on Christ’s words, and what they mean for our lives in this broken, suffering, and sinful world. Even when I didn’t agree with every theological point Neuhaus made, I found rich fruit for meditation and prayer, and admired the sincerity of Neuhaus’ faith.

18. How to Read and Why (Harold Bloom): Whether or not you were a fan of literary critic Harold Bloom, his love of literature is undeniable. In this book, Bloom provides a tour of his favorite works of literature. He discusses their themes, their characters, their structure, and most of all, what they have meant to him as a reader. I came away from this book with a whole bunch of ‘want to reads’ added to my list on goodreads, and a reminder of what I miss most about my Great Books major at Notre Dame: talking about great books with really intelligent people who love reading as much as I do. And that reminder pushed me to start my own virtual book club, and then join an absolutely incredible in-person one (specifically for moms!) when the virtual one fizzled out. So many thanks to Harold Bloom for this delightful book-lovers book (and may he rest in peace).

19. Pygmalion (George Bernard Shaw): I vividly remember watching My Fair Lady for the first time. My wonderful mother made it a priority to introduce my sisters and I to classic movie musicals, and My Fair Lady was one of my favorites. I loved its wit, its costumes, its music, and its characters. And yet, though I learned early on that it was based on Shaw’s play (and the play itself was based on Greek mythology-another love of mine) I never attempted to read the play. Thankfully, the Close Reads Podcast came to my rescue (again) and helped me get past my general aversion to reading plays. Shaw’s play is incredibly witty and really digs into questions of education, class, and the age old ‘battle of the sexes.’ I never realized the movie massively changes the ending of the play, and I, for one, find Shaw’s ending much truer to the characters he creates and the themes he explores. It’s also one of those delightful 'Great Books’ that is quick and easy to read.

20. Piranesi (Susanna Clarke): I saved my favorite book of 2023 for last. Piranesi is Clarke’s second novel. Her first, Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell, is my favorite work of fantasy after Tolkien’s legendarium and Lewis’ Narnia series. Clarke had planned a sequel (though the novel stands alone novel as is), but a diagnosis of chronic fatigue syndrome prevented her from doing so. Piranesi was a work that she began before her first novel, and that she knew wouldn’t require the research that a sequel to Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell (set in an alternative version of Napoleanic era England) would. Thank God (literally) that she pushed herself to write Piranesi, because it is a beautiful, wondrous, and moving work of literature. The novel centers on the titular Piranesi, a young man who lives in a strange ‘house’: an endless building whose walls are filled with countless unique statues and whose floors are subject to the tides of an indoor sea. Piranesi is alone in this strange world, aside from a man he calls the Other, who asks Piranesi to help him research “A Great and Secret Knowledge.” The gradual uncovering of who these two men really are, how they came to inhabit this strange world, and the disruptive presence of another person is absolutely mind-blowing. Do not peek at the end or look ahead; this is a book best experienced in ‘real time.’ But like Clarke’s first novel, it is also a book that will reward the re-reader again and again.

So what do you think? Any books you’ll add to your ‘To-Read’ list? Read any of these before and care to share your opinion?