Last week I turned thirty, and whilst we know the numbers are rather arbitrary markers of life, it does feel like something to make a note of here in these (digital) pages. And in celebration, I thought I would put together a list of thirty books that I think have contributed to who I am and what I read.
This was an interesting list to make, because it is not a list of my favourite books. In fact, I actively dislike one of them. They’re listed for a whole range of reasons which we will get into, more than we will the content of the books I’m sure. But my overall feeling is that these are the books that have nudged me somehow, changed my trajectory. Their impact lies noticeably beyond the time spent amongst their pages.
Of course, on a different day I might choose a different list. I might re-read some of my childhood favourites when my daughter grows a little older and see other seedlings of my literary taste in amongst books I can barely remember but have nonetheless seeped into my subconscious. Naturally I’m looking forward to that day (probably a little too much).
The other interesting thing about making this list was that I found it hard to put more recently read books on here. Even though there are a few from the past year or so that I think have will have lasting impact on me, it’s hard to quantify until a bit more time has passed. I’ll get back to you in another thirty years (or perhaps five or ten might be more reasonable).
Without further ado, let’s get into the books. In no particular order…
1. A Brief History of Seven Killings by Marlon James
It sounds silly now but after years and years of reading for school and university—mostly classics and modern classics—this book felt like a revelation. I found it at the airport between my third and fourth years of my undergrad and ended up basing my first dissertation around it. It showed me that there were authors writing today that were doing fascinating, experimental and difficult work. I had taken a contemporary American course that I really liked in my third year and whilst that probably planted the seeds of my later specialisation in contemporary literature, I think this (and The Sellout, which I picked up at the same time) probably cemented that for me. This book was also the catalyst to reading other great writers from the Caribbean, including Jamaica Kincaid.
Jamaica, 1976. Seven gunmen storm Bob Marley’s house, machine guns blazing.
The reggae superstar survives, but the gunmen are never caught.
In A Brief History of Seven Killings, Marlon James reimagines the story behind this near-mythical event, chronicling the lives of a host of unforgettable characters from street kids, drug lords and journalists, to prostitutes and secret service agents.
2. In The Distance by Hernan Diaz
This is one of those books I think many people associate me with. I bought it when I was working my way through various prize lists after leaving university and having no real sense of what was out there, or what I really liked. When I finally got around to reading it, I loved it. I loved the idea of the anti-Western, the depiction of the landscape, the way Diaz circumvents and frustrates your expectations of this kind of narrative. I’ve sought out a lot more Westerns/anti-Westerns since. It was also part of a realisation I had that year that I liked these quiet, reflective narratives. In general I think 2019-2020 was an important couple of years for me in establishing my taste. Interestingly, I bought no books in 2019 (I know, actually amazed I managed this) but rather read what I had on my shelf.
Håkan Söderström is a man who has become a legend. Giant in size, rumoured to be bloodthirsty and fearless, he is known simply as ‘the Hawk’.
But behind this myth is a tale of loss and survival. As a young man Håkan is sent from Gothenburg with his brother Linus to seek their fortunes in New York. In the chaos of the port, he is separated from Linus and finds himself instead on a ship bound for California. He speaks no English and has no money but determined to find his brother, Håkan sets out on a journey east. As he travels on foot he moves against the tide of history, experiencing the Gold Rush and its effects, encountering capitalists and colonialists, explorers and early scientists, and witnessing the formation of America and the betrayal of its dream.
3. The Greenlanders by Jane Smiley
I read this book about eight months after In the Distance, but I often group them together in my mind as being two vitally important books that came out of that year. Probably because I felt similarly about both. Painful, heart wrenching, quiet novels that have a deep reverence for the landscape.
This one focuses on a group of Norse settlers in Greenland during the 14th and 15th centuries. It is told in the manner of an Icelandic saga, meaning it has an unusual distancing style to it. But I loved it. I loved how it didn’t offer up its beauty easily. You had to wade through a number of pages to begin to find its rhythms, the depth of its characters. I loved the mundanity and repetition of it all (it taught me I quite like ’boring’ books). I was amazed at how different it was from the Smiley I had already read, A Thousand Acres. This was an ambitious and strange novel for her to take on, and I was appropriately surprised and delighted by it. One I’d like to return to before the end of the year.
4. Cromwell Trilogy: Wolf Hall / Bring Up the Bodies / The Mirror and the Light by Hilary Mantel
This is where I begin to cheat by including whole trilogies as one ‘book’, so forgive me. These novels taught me what historical fiction could be (and unfortunately almost every historical fiction novel I’ve read since—especially from this kind of time period—has paled in comparison). Mantel is one of the best writers I’ve ever come across. There seems to be some actual magic in the way she manages to take you deep into Tudor England in these books, I don’t think I’ve ever felt so transported by anything.
This trilogy naturally charts the rise and fall of Thomas Cromwell, a fairly ordinary man who came to prominence under Henry VIII (yes, the one with all the wives). Absolutely gobsmackingly good fiction that I will return to time and time again.
5. Meeting the Universe Halfway: Quantum Physics and the Entanglement of Matter and Meaning by Karen Barad
One of few nonfiction texts to make it onto this list, but this completely changed the way I see the world forever. Barad brings together quantum physics and theorists in the humanities and social studies to formulate a whole new accounting of power, being and knowledge. It is a challenging read, but not so challenging as to make it completely unreadable, even for those of us who aren’t scientists. I can’t overstate how much Barad’s thinking in this has infiltrated my brain.