Emilybooks of the year

It’s that time again, when evenings are filled with too many drinks, days with too many mince pies, and all energy is summoned for the final push before collapsing in the heavenly Christmas holidays.

I wonder if I’m quite ready to reflect upon the reading year that has past, all those pages that have been turned, worlds that have been entered. My mind is awhirr with bookshop thoughts, for now is a wildly busy time for us. I sit here worrying, do we have enough of X in stock? did I remember to order Y her book?, and feel dizzy with the exhaustion of being polite and helpful to hundreds of people stressed out beyond belief with the Sisyphean task of Christmas shopping. My fingers itch to fold wrapping paper into neat corners around a book, and feel peculiar spread to tap across a keyboard. But this is the year’s final Emilybooks post and, every bit as traditional as a Christmas tree, is the round-up of the books I’ve read this year and a reminder of some of 2013’s reading delights. So which are my Emilybooks of the year?

The Living Mountain by Nan ShepherdThe year began on a high with Nan Shepherd’s very special memoir of living in the Cairngorms, The Living Mountain. It’s a book which haunted me all the year, filled with mind-boggling reflections written in the best sort of poetic prose. I am still floored by the thought of the tiny alpine flora there which predates the Ice Age. It was a good year for nature writing, with also Edward Thomas’s The Icknield Way, The Silt Road by Charles Rangeley-Wilson, and Olivia Laing’s enchanting To the River, which I re-read with delight.

There was, in fact, rather a lot of re-reading this year, often thanks to Emily’s Walking Book Club, for which I re-read one of my very favourite London books, Iris Under the NetMurdoch’s Under the Net. Actually, that’s probably one of my favourite books full stop. Other re-reads for the book club, were Beryl Markham’s poetic gung-ho memoir of colonial Kenya, West with the Night, and Laurie Lee’s lyrical As I Walked Out One Midsummer Morning. I re-read The Turn of the Screw for the Southbank Bookclub, and it was much better and more complex than I remembered, and I re-read Penelope Fitzgerald’s Offshore – twice! – because it is nigh on a perfect novel: slim, elegant, funny, well-observed, unexpected. All of these books stood up beautifully to a re-read, yielding just as many pleasures as they did first time round. I have renewed my resolution to re-read more, to treat a book with the love and respect accorded to a piece of music, listening to it time and again, rather than considering it finished after a single run-through.

Swann's WayOne book that I read for the first time this year, and which I am sure I will re-read is Swann’s Way. It was admittedly quite a high-risk book to take on holiday. All that languid prose, those serpentine sentences promised luxurious pleasure, but I was more than a little anxious Proust might prove too much for my feeble holiday brain. It was, however, completely heavenly. I particularly loved the way he wrote about the power of the little tune of music, and the clever things he did with his long twisting sentences. As Muriel Spark put it in A Far Cry from Kensington, Proust is ‘about everything in particular’. I am already looking forward to re-reading it. If I had to pick just one, then Swann’s Way must be my book of the year.

I also read Flaubert’s Three Tales, although without quite so much pleasure. I picked it up principally as it’s a very thin book, and I wanted something slight before embarking upon the gargantuan task of The Luminaries. Oh, The Luminaries. It took such a long time to read it and ended in such an unsatisfactorary, post-modern way that I have to remind myself that really, while I was reading it (for A MONTH, twice as long as I gave to Swann’s Way) I did actually really enjoy it.

Where'd you go BernadetteOther good new novels this year were Francesca Segal’s The Innocents and Sathnam Sanghera’s Marriage Material – two engaging ‘outsider fictions’, the one about the Jewish community and the other about the Sikh, and both also re-imaginings of classic novels. There was Idiopathy by Sam Byers, and also The Flamethrowers by Rachel Kushner, both very punchy, written in fizzing electric prose. The Last Runaway, Tracy Chevalier’s novel about a young Quaker woman going to America in the 1850s and getting involved in the Underground Railroad, was an engrossing pleasure. She is very good at giving us quiet but strong heroines, like Griet in Girl with a Pearl Earring, not new, but one I also read this year. Slightly disappointing was Jane Gardam’s Last Friends, only as it wasn’t quite up to the gold standard of Old Filth, yet it was still a pleasure to revisit her winning clutch of characters. My favourite new novel of the year is Where’d You Go Bernadette by Maria Semple. I laughed so much in this easy yet ingenious novel, which masquerades as a bit of fluff, but is really a powerfully feminist book, and, although not as beautifully written, it is just as postmodern and intelligent as The Luminaries, and rather a lot shorter.

Moon Tiger by Penelope LivelyIt was a year to discover some wonderful old classics too. The Millstone by Margaret Drabble, The Enchanted April by Elizabeth von Arnim, Moon Tiger by Penelope Lively. These three are some of the best books I’ve ever read, especially Moon Tiger – what a corker!! It managed to be dizzyingly original in its narrative, as well as so affecting that I cried when reading it in my lunchbreak. There were some wonderful treats from Persephone Books – Consequences by EM Delafield, which was brilliant psychologically, and absolutely devastating; The Exiles Return by Elisabeth de Waal (Edmund’s grandmother), which raised all sorts of questions about Vienna in the 1950s; and The Far Cry by Emma Smith, a very unsettling coming-of-age novel about going to India in the 1940s. There were other wonders too. Penelope Fitzgerald’s The Blue Flower – the woman’s a genius; the little-known Brigid Brophy’s picaresque, lesbian coming-of-age The King of a Rainy Country; Rumer Godden’s Breakfast with the Nikolides; Mary McCarthy’s The Group; Nancy Mitford’s silly, funny Christmas Pudding; Elizabeth Bowen’s The Death of the Heart – currently reading and loving – and, of course, The Bell Jar, up there with Consequences as one of the most distressing novels of all time.

The Pendragon LegendAll these seem rather feminine and rather Anglo-American, I admit. In my defence, I did also read some more “out-there” classics: thanks to Pushkin Press, I discovered Ryu Murakami’s magnificent dystopian Coin Locker Babies and Antal Szerb’s The Pendragon Legend, a kind of much darker Tintin. There was Christine Brooke-Rose’s bizarre and brilliant Textermination, which inspired me to write a short story, and Tove Jansson’s completely delightful The Summer Book. Other classics that are perhaps slightly more ‘male’ than you might expect from Emilybooks are: F Scott Fitzgerald’s messy, brilliant Tender is the Night (so much better than Gatsby) and the flawless-other-than-perhaps-too-neat Remains of the Day by Kashuo Ishiguro.

A brief mention of some short stories: John Cheever’s ‘The Swimmer’ was chilling and unnerving. Incidentally, my friend Katie tells me there is a ‘Swimmer’ thing in London named after this short story, where you literally swim from Hampstead Heath to Brockwell. Charlotte Gilman’s ‘The Yellow Wallpaper’ was also brilliantly unsettling. I read a few of Edith Pearlman’s in Binocular Vision, and Alice Munro’s in Dear Life – both elderly ladies, both writing staggeringly brilliant short stories, both at last receiving some long-deserved recognition. There is also Ali Smith’s beautifully produced, wonderfully inspiring collection Shire, in which Nan Shepherd pops up, and Deborah Levy’s excellent Black Vodka.

Things I Don't Want to KnowAlso by Deborah Levy is her memoir-essay Things I Don’t Want to Know, which is one of the best things I’ve ever read. Short and smartly produced by Notting Hill Editions, it is a feminine rejoinder to Orwell’s essay ‘Why I Write’, and so much more inspiring. It’s difficult to describe – more engaging than most essays, more political than most memoirs, more powerful, affecting imagery than in most novels. Read it.

I have only discovered over the past couple of years quite how much I love reading memoirs. This year has had some brilliant ones. As well as Deborah Levy’s, Nan Shepherd’s and Beryl Markham’s, all mentioned above, there was Island Summers by Matilde Culme-Seymour, containing so much delicious food-writing that I came out of it both hungrier and heavier. How to be a Heroine, to be published in January, is a very engaging reading-memoir in which Samantha Ellis looks at her reading life and weighs up her various fictional heroines through a tremendous tour of some dearly loved novels. As well as a great chance to revisit some favourites (Anne of Green Gables, Cold Comfort Farm, Jane Eyre and more), it is a tantalising introduction to what I’m sure will be some treats for 2014, such as Sylvia Townsend Warner’s Lolly Willowes. There was also Emma Smith’s As Green As Grass – wonderful memories of life around the Second World War by a very spritely ninety-year-old. Penelope Lively’s new Ammonites and Leaping Fish is another hard-to-define book. Part memoir, part reflections on being old, part thoughts on books read, objects collected and part history lesson, it is a box of delights. Perhaps most compelling of all these lives is Ysenda Maxtone Graham’s biography of her grandmother Jan Struther, The Real Mrs Miniver. What a life, and how beautifully written!

The Dark is RisingFitting for this time of year, I loved re-reading Susan Cooper’s series of children’s books ‘The Dark is Rising‘. The Dark is Rising is probably the best of the five, and begins on 20th December, Midwinter’s Eve. Chilling, powerful, exciting imaginative, transporting, how I do love to read a brilliant children’s book!

I can’t end without mentioning the big change chez Emilybooks this year. Daphne! Oh my beloved literary tortoise. Which was her favourite book of the year? She is torn between beautifully slow-paced Proust, and Penelope Lively’s Ammonites and Leaping Fish, which features a tortoise or two.

Finally, thank YOU for giving me so much of your reading time and attention during the year. Perhaps you have an Emilybook of the year? In which case I would love to know it. And may I wish you a very happy, book-filled Christmas and New Year.

Daphnebooks of the year

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13 Responses to “Emilybooks of the year”

  1. The Northern Reader Says:

    Thank you, Emily: I can just print this out and send it up the chimney for Santa ….. We NorthernReaders send you every good wish for a very happy Christmas

  2. lynnpedersenpoetry Says:

    Many intriguing books here for my 2014 to-be-read list. Deborah Levy’s memoir looks particularly relevant for me, along with the nature writing. Thanks for the detailed summaries!

    • emilybooks Says:

      I’m thrilled that you’ve found some inspiration. I can’t recommend Things I Don’t Want To Know highly enough – enjoy!

  3. Sigrun Says:

    goodness gracious!

    I think the best thing for me to do – would be to call off Christmas and start READING!

    There are so many tempting books on your list. I am awaiting Deborah Levy is her memoir-essay, hoping it will find its way to my mailbox before the holidays.

    Merry Christmas!

    • emilybooks Says:

      Hi Sigrun, enjoy your reading christmas! I’ve so enjoyed your blog this year, thank you for such inspiring posts.

  4. Alice Says:

    Every time I visit your blog, Emily, I end up buying books; you make everything sound so appealing. I’ve just bookmarked Offshore and Tender is the Night for post-Christmas spending.

    Your year of reading sounds absolutely wondrous, I look forward to what you encounter in 2014.

    Merry Christmas 🙂

    • emilybooks Says:

      Thanks Alice – so pleased to hear you’ve found some good ones in there. Looking forward to reading about some of your great finds of 2014 too. Have a lovely christmas.

  5. juliamharrison Says:

    My book of the year was Call it Sleep: Henry Roth’s autobiographical novel set in New York in the 1900s where a Jewish family are trying to start a new life. Seen through the eyes of a young boy, a remarkable portrait of the city emerges, along with the fear and pain he experiences as he watches his adoring mother and angry, disappointed father’s daily struggles. The moment when he finds himself lost, and far from home is written in a stream of consciousness that is a pure adrenalin rush. Extraordinary. I also loved Charlotte Mendelson’s funny and moving Almost English, the hearbreaking Monsieur Linh and his Child, and The Way of the World, Nicholas Bouvier’s account of his journey across Europe to Afganistan in the 1960’s, with his friend Thierry Vernet – whose beautiful black and white illustrations light up this gorgeous Eland Press edition. Finally my Christmas read was the first of the Flavia de Luce mysteries, the Sweetness at the Bottom of the PIe by Alan Bradley. Flavia is 11 years old and lives in a crumbling mansion; her passion is chemistry, and when she is not carrying out experiments in her late Uncle Tarquin’s laboratory she undertaking criminal investigations. A cross between Nancy Mitford and Dodie Smith, I couldn’t put it down. Perfect by the fire at Christmas with a glass of ginger wine. Dodie Smith reminds me that i was fasinated by her novel Town in Bloom, set in the heart of London’s theatreland in the 1920s. Finally my children’s books of the year are Meg Rosoff’s Picture me Gone, Rebecca Stead’s Liar and Spy, David Almond’s The boy who Swam with Piranhas, David Levithan’s Everyday, Gillian Cross’s After Tomorrow and Marcus Sedgwick’s She is not Invisible… my resolution for 2014 is to do some children’s book reviews. I think i feel a blog coming on!

    • emilybooks Says:

      Julia – lovely to hear all your book news. The Flavia de Luce mysteries sound particularly wonderful! I can’t wait to read some of your reviews.

  6. Nicola Says:

    Oh, I loved the Maria Semple, too. Brilliant comic novel and rather nice cover!

  7. Ben D. Shiriak Says:

    I assume a press-up = an American push-up.

    You daily should do 2-handed set shots, as many as you can, from the foul line of the nearest basketball court. You could also try learning to walk on crutches; you will be amazed at how your upper body strength will increase.

    (Somehow, my computer lost your later posting.)

    • emilybooks Says:

      Thanks Ben – alas I’m not really a basketballer, but I shall keep an eye out in case I see any crutches lying around.

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