One of the unintended benefits of keeping a log of the books I read is, it provides a sort of chronicle of my life.

I can remember what happened in a year by seeing the number of books I consumed. The years I was in school, I did half as much reading for pleasure as usual. The years I moved houses, dismal reading totals. The years after I gave up TV, skyrocketing piles of books. The year I got married, clearly no time for evening reading. (I was busy planning a wedding, what’d you think I meant?)

This year was another busy one; I found myself caregiver to loved ones, and read below my usual pace. I find two competing forces in my psyche: one that is pissy about the 30-50 unread books, the missed vacations, the tiredness, and the unending string of cancelled plans; and one that is grateful for the time and closeness with said loved ones (human and canine!), my caring and supportive family and friends, the sense of purpose, and the infrequent-but-more-appreciated-than-ever chances I did have to escape into the pages of books. 

Here are my favourites of those. Stick around till the end of the blurbs, and you’ll find a little bonus. 

The Library Book, by Susan Orlean
(317 pages, first published 2018)

Reasons I love this book: 1) It’s set in one of my favourite cities. 2) It made me cry, or smile, or guffaw, or gasp or mutter “oh wow” on almost every page. My heart was screaming when books were burning. 3) It defies genre. It’s a love letter to books. A true crime mystery. A history of the LA public library. A primer on arson. A lesson in book restoration. An adventure in architecture. A dose of community spirit. A behind-the-scenes glimpse of the inner workings of a massive library system. A tribute to the good work of libraries and librarians and a glimpse into their future. A chronicle of larger-than-life characters, including one corduroy-suit-wearing dude who walked from Cincinnati to LA and several ground-breaking women. 4) Its lovely binding. 5) It made me very sorry not to be a librarian, or an Angeleno. (Well, nothing new there, I wish I was one of those every day.) 

The Mandela Plot, by Kenneth Bonert 
(480 pages, first published 2018)

You may recall seeing Bonert’s first book, The Lion Seeker, on my 2015 list. Here we are reunited with the Helger family, still making their way in South Africa, only instead of the first half of the 20th century, it’s the apartheid era of the ‘80s and the new South Africa of the ‘90s. The plot is so intense I think my blood pressure was elevated the entire time I was reading. And once again, Bonert captures the place and characters to perfection, sprinkling in a mix of Yiddish, Afrikaans and Zulu with his lofty English prose.

If Beale Street Could Talk, by James Baldwin
(197 pages, first published 1974)

A searing story of injustice, love, despair, family bonds, hopelessness and hope. If you didn’t know it’s from the 1970s, you’d think the book was written today. Sure, in that case fewer characters would smoke and more would have iPhones, but the racism – overt and institutional – is all too familiar. (See the movie, too – Barry Jenkins and the cast nail it.)

One Story, One Song, by Richard Wagamese
(216 pages, first published 2011)

This meandering collection of anecdotes, each only a few pages, touches on bears, nature, First Nations, the blue of a sunrise, teachers, kindness, homelessness, survival, alcoholism, writing, Obama, belonging, spouses, and one glorious-sounding mountainside cabin. Richard Wagamese was a light, and he is gone too soon. 

Stamped From the Beginning: The Definitive History of Racist Ideas in America, by Ibram X. Kendi
(592 pages, first published 2016)

I have so much to say about this one, I don’t even know where to start. It’s 500 pages and I dog-eared or underlined on most of them, and took notes besides. I want to sit down with this author and talk to him for hours. It’s a tough read. Bits of it are boring and overly detailed, and some of it’s esoteric. But mostly it describes things that are immensely upsetting. (Even when you know they’re coming.) Kendi posits very interesting and some new-to-me thoughts on racism and antiracism, through the lens of historical events, academia, (pseudo)science and pop culture. (The Rocky Balboa vs Apollo Creed thing again! Ok, I get it, it’s racist, my enjoyment is diminished.) Whether or not he’s right I’m not smart enough to know, but what he’s saying will continue to give me pause in the way I perceive events and public figures. For instance, Aristotle, Shakespeare, John Locke, Frederick Douglass, Sojourner Truth, Lincoln, W. E. B. Du Bois, MLK, the Clintons, Obama… all racist in some way – or at least, not entirely antiracist in every word and deed. On the other hand, George Wallace might have been… a little less racist than we thought??? Toldja, it’s interesting! 

Heavy: An American Memoir, by Kiese Laymon
(256 pages, first published 2018)

Walk a mile – or run six – in a Black Southern man’s shoes, and see the world through his eyes and feel it through his heart.

Always Another Country: A Memoir of Exile and of Home, by Sisonke Msimang
(368 pages, first published 2018)

A tale of exile, and of dreams. But what does one do when the dream is achieved, only to have it fail her? This tale of roaming the world and building South Africa examines that. Along the way it explores ideas of siblings, marriage and parenthood, feminism and class. 

The Power, by Naomi Alderman
(341 pages, first published 2017)

I would inhale speculative fiction if I could, especially when it turns the patriarchy on its head – or zaps it to smithereens. I’m being flippant, but it’s not all rah-rah fun – there are consequences, always consequences. The book also includes scenes of violence against men, and they are as horrible and upsetting and cringe-worthy as every depiction of violence against women that pop culture has thrown our way. (Correction: As horrible and upsetting and cringe-worthy as those SHOULD seem, if only our society hadn’t normalized and numbed us to such things.)

A Two-Spirit Journey: The Autobiography of a Lesbian Ojibwa-Cree Elder, by Ma-Nee Chacaby
(264 pages, first published 2016)

The most astounding aspect of this one is not its reminders that society has failed our First Nations again and again and again and AGAIN. It’s the resilience of Ma-Nee Chacaby. A survivor of violence, racism, homophobia and disability, she not only finds the strength to heal herself but to look after and raise up a never-ending stream of loved ones and strangers. 

Speak No Evil, by Uzodinma Iweala
(215 pages, first published 2018)

An immigrant narrative wrapped in a coming of age tale layered with a coming out story. It’s beautifully written and delivers a gut punch. (The ex-pat Nigerian literary scene is a powerhouse these days. Also read Chimamanda Ngozie Adichie, Chigozie Obioma, Teju Cole if you haven’t yet). 

The Neuroscientist Who Lost Her Mind: My Tale of Madness and Recovery, by Barbara K. Lipska
(208 pages, first published 2018)

The “they” that is medical science don’t provide a good prognosis for anyone with more than two tumors in her brain. Well, Lipska at one point had 18! She recovered to carry on her neuroscience work and to write this book, which is a fascinating tour of the brain. See which parts are injured, and see what it does to the rest of one’s body and whole personality. 

Where the Crawdads Sing, by Delia Owens
(384 pages, first published 2019)

Owens’s prose describing the North Carolina coast is resplendent – it made me want to get lost in those verdant marshes as much as I was lost in these pages. When the setting is paired with family heartbreak and a murder mystery, a true page turner results. 

Toronto 2033: 10 Short Stories About the City’s Future, by Jim Munroe (Editor), Matthew Borrett (Illustrator)
(104 pages, first published 2018)

This strikingly illustrated and cleverly conceived collection of spec fic bites is your guide to life in the 6ix in the year 2033. How sci fi writers and “professional futurists” come up with these ideas is beyond me. The book – and accompanying podcasts – is a project by the peeps at Spacing, they of the lovely store and magazine. Check out more at toronto2033.com or spacing.com. 

The Reality Bubble: Blind Spots, Hidden Truths, and the Dangerous Illusions That Shape Our World, by Ziya Tong
(366 pages, first published 2019)

Ninety-five per cent of all species are smaller than the human thumb. Your face is host to Demodex mites that feast on it every night. Solid objects aren’t really solid. Ninety-eight percent of the hydrogen atoms in our bodies date back to the Big Bang. Chimpanzees enjoy a beautiful sunset. Salmon isn’t really pink. North American eggs need to be refrigerated but European eggs don’t. Photographic film is made of slaughterhouse remains. Vehicles in Sweden are powered in part by booze; homes in rural France are powered in part by cheese. Colours don’t exist, they are interpreted inside our brains. Trees are social creatures. Physical currency accounts for only 16 per cent of all the money circulating in the world. We confuse our measurement of time with time itself. Our hunter-gatherer ancestors worked three to five hours per day. The richest 42 people in the world have as much money as half the population of the world. The five-second rule is a myth. The odds of any one of us being born is one in 10^45,000. This book is chock full of interesting facts, but it’s also a poignant take on what it means to be a human in our world.

On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous, by Ocean Vuong
(264 pages, first published 2019)

I can’t stand poetry, but somehow I am mesmerized when poets write novels. The words in this masterpiece of fleeing war, of immigrating, of coming out, are simply sublime. 

The Handmaid’s Tale, by Margaret Atwood
(311 pages, first published 1985)

Thirty-four years later, the original is still frightening, still nuanced, still a deep character dive, still delivering a feminist gut punch, still brilliant. We shall pretend its follow-up never happened. 

Don’t Label Me: An Incredible Conversation for Divided Times, by Irshad Manji
(320 pages, first published 2019)

Left vs. Right. Red vs. Blue. Us vs. Them. Manji’s conversation with her dog is a wonderfully silly, quite perceptive guide to extracting ourselves from the muck of tribalism. ALL of us. Yup, even those of us who know we’re right. (I kept this book in mind when hanging out with my staunchly Republican family last month, and that was great!) 

All Things Consoled: A Daughter’s Memoir, by Elizabeth Hay
(272 pages, first published 2018)

Maybe you have had to care for elderly, declining loved ones, or maybe you haven’t yet – in which case someday you surely will. And then this book will hit so close to home, you’ll think Hay spied on you in your living room and wrote about your family. For everyone, not just caregivers, it’s a beautiful rumination on living, and living too long. 

The Innocents, by Michael Crummey
(304 pages, first published 2019)

I’ll let Crummey himself introduce his Giller Prize finalist: “Aside from the incest, cannibalism and pirates, it’s your typical coming of age story … Just kidding, there are no pirates.” 

Beloved, by Toni Morrison
(324 pages, first published 1987)

I just reread one of the many obituaries for this great lady that poured forth in early August. The NY Times used the words “towering,” “iconic” and “luminous” within just the first few lines. For anyone else these would be empty platitutes; for Toni Morrison, they are truth.

And No Birds Sang, by Farley Mowat
(248 pages, first published 1979)

At one point Adam looked at me askance as I was reading, since the cover clearly denotes a war memoir and yet I laughed out loud. Only later did I cry.

Had It Coming: What’s Fair in the Age of #metoo?, by Robyn Doolittle
(304 pages, first published 2019)

Doolittle faithfully presents both sides of many issues to do with feminism and rape culture – and I was nodding my agreement to ALL of it. Which doesn’t really make sense, but just goes to show – this shit’s complicated. Recent memory and historical perspective, both are here. And once again I’m SMDH at this society we’ve built. 

Girl, Woman, Other, by Bernardine Evaristo
(464 pages, first published 2019)

I suppose I should thank the boneheaded Booker Prize folks, if it wasn’t for their baffling, controversial, against-their-own-rules, and, IMO, extremely unfair and I hope to god not prejudiced idea to award a SHARED prize this year between this gem and a piece of drek that shall remain nameless, I wouldn’t have rushed to buy this so fast as a means of support (of the author, NOT the prize). And it’s wonderful – a harmony of voices in pages. 

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Since it’s the end of the “decade,” how about a round of up of my faves from 2010-2019? (I am one of those nerds who goes around preaching that the decade/century/millennium doesn’t really turn till year 1, but that’s a losing battle, I’m just gonna go with the flow on this.)

Here’s a bunch, not ranked (I read them in this time frame, they weren’t necessarily published then):

• A House in the Sky, by Amanda Lindhout
• Alex’s Wake: A Voyage of Betrayal and a Journey of Remembrance, by Martin Goldsmith
• All We Leave Behind: A Reporter’s Journey Into the Lives of Others, by Carol Off
• Being Mortal: Medicine and What Matters in the End, by Atul Gawande
• By Chance Alone: A Remarkable True Story of Courage and Survival at Auschwitz, by Max Eisen
• Cutting for Stone, by Abraham Verghese
• Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, by Jonathan Safran Foer
• Forgiveness, by Mark Sakamoto
• Indian Horse, by Richard Wagamese
• Last Night in Twisted River, by John Irving
• Lincoln in the Bardo, by George Saunders
• Matterhorn, by Karl Marlantes
• On the Shores of Darkness, There is Light, by Cordelia Strube
• Pachinko, by Min Jin Lee
• Sapiens: A Brief History of Humankind, by Yuval Noah Harari
• Slaughterhouse Five, by Kurt Vonnegut
• Thank You for Your Service, by David Finkel
• Team of Rivals: The Political Genius of Abraham Lincoln, by Doris Kearns Goodwin
• The Absolutist, by John Boyne
• The Book of Night Women, by Marlon James
• The End of Your Life Book Club, by Will Schwalbe
• The Far Pavillions, by M. M. Kaye
• The Fishermen, by Chigozie Obioma
• The Glass Castle, by Jeanette Walls
• The Library Book, by Susan Orlean
• The Lion Seeker, by Kenneth Bonert
• The Orenda, by Joseph Boyden
• The Way of Baseball: Finding Stillness at 95 mph, by Shawn Green
• Unbroken: A World War II Story of Survival, Resilience and Redemption, by Laura Hillenbrand
• Waiting for First Light: My Ongoing Battle with PTSD, by Roméo Dallaire

And these are the best of the best of the best. Never mind just the decade, you’ll see these someday on the best books of my life list:

• A Little Life, by Hanya Yanagihara
• Just Mercy: A Story of Justice and Redemption, by Bryan Stevenson
• Infinite Jest, by David Foster Wallace

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Happy new year, wishing you good things and good reads for 2020!