Every January, I read a George Saunders book to start the year off right. This year I chose Liberation Day, a collection of short fiction.

Saunders may be the best of the contemporary American writers. Not the main point, but because he’s so good, he gets standout voice actors for his audiobooks. If you enjoy listening to books or are merely audiobook-curious, let yourself enjoy this book aloud. The biggest name is probably Tina Fey, but everyone is superb.

Saunders is hailed as a master of literary fiction, which is true, though I wish more people would recognize him as a master of science fiction, because that’s what half these stories are. Not the kind with pew-pew-pew space lasers, more the kind with mind-wiping technology that never gets explained in detail, for which fact I am grateful.

In trying to pick my favorite element of his stories in this book, I landed on this: Saunders is so good at writing normal people failing. Bitchy colleagues, idealists who choose complicity over courage, mediocre writers and their underwhelming husbands who make a halfass attempt at vengeful masculinity: None of these characters are straight-up villains. They are ordinary people who make disappointing choices.

No, I take that back, the parents in “Mother’s Day” are villains, and so are the parents in “Liberation Day.” They just lack the introspection to see it.

If this is your first George Saunders rodeo, this is a fine place to start, though my favorite collection is Tenth of December. His novel Lincoln in the Bardo is one of those astonishing books that can change your life. And A Swim in a Pond in the Rain is the best way I know to introduce yourself to Russian literature.

Fairy Tale is one of the most satisfying books Stephen King has written in ages. If you haven’t read him in a long time, or ever, you probably think of him as a horror writer. That is accurate but incomplete. The man’s been writing professionally for over fifty years. He’s written fantasy, science fiction, Westerns, thrillers, literary fiction, historical fiction, mysteries, and probably some other fiction genres I’m forgetting, to say nothing of his nonfiction cultural criticism. Or On Writing, which endures as one of the best books for writers and would-be writers.

Fairy Tale presents us with Charlie, a boy whose mother dies young and whose father responds by diving into a bottle. Despite growing up under these difficult circumstances, by the time he’s a teenager, Charlie is a decent kid—the sort of kid who stops to help when he discovers an old man in distress, even if that old man has a reputation for being an asshole, even if his dog is rumored to be vicious.

I don’t want to spoil the plot, but this is an adventure story with a magical realm and a princess and a great evil that Charlie must defeat. And I am only slightly ashamed to say I cheated and looked to the last few pages to find out if the dog survived.

I read A Practical Guide to Conquering the World, a nominally fantasy novel by K. J. Parker, pseudonym of Tom Holt.

I love K. J. Parker to an unreasonable extent. I’m not really capable of objective criticism with his books. Sorry if you were looking for that here.

As is typical, this book is fantasy in that there geography and the cultures are made up, but there’s no magic. It’s about people in an approaching-Industrial society who make war on one another.

After something like fifteen years of my intense Parker fanhood, I think I’ve figured out why I like him so well. It’s his prose style. It’s witty and droll. Every sentence, every paragraph is an exercise in deadpan delivery. I would give my left kidney to write like he does.

The hero of this book, if that’s what you’d prefer to call him, is a professional translator. It’s not that he has political aspirations, but when he realizes a young woman is slated for execution due to a mistake in translation, he intervenes. And the young woman happens to be a princess from one of the distant, savage tribes.

Parker excels at world-building. He’ll happily go on a tangent chock full of details about the intricacies of bow design or the how the clearing of a forest affected a region’s agriculture and economy.  It ought to be tedious but isn’t.

This was a delight as an audiobook. Ray Sawyer isn’t great at female voices, but one, no one will ever accuse Parker of passing the Bechdel test, and two, the characters aren’t the main point of Parker’s novels. Sawyer’s the perfect narrator for the book because his reading is bony dry. He deadpans his way through the whole novel.

Right, so, I only read 19 books for pleasure this year, the lowest count since I started tracking my reading more than twenty years ago. I edited 22 books, but that’s work reading, not pleasure reading.

In my defense: I had to move, again, this time from Wisconsin to Minnesota. Moving is such a drain on time and energy. And here in Minnesota I don’t have a long country road to amble down with my dog, one of us listening to audiobooks, the other chasing deer.

Also in my defense, after I moved to the Twin Cities, I took up dance as a hobby. When I say dance I mean burlesque and pole dance. In November I danced on a stage, taking my clothes off for money.

Please note, my stage name is conveniently the same as my editing business: Blue Legend. Hire me for all your editing and/or erotic dance needs.

Somehow, some way, I’m going to make more time for pleasure reading this year. Pleasure writing, too. I’m itching to write a book. I resolve to find time for editing books, reading books, writing books, and stripping my clothes off.

Total books read:
19

Age levels:
All adult. No YA or children’s books this year.

Books that were published in 2024:
The Hunter, by Tana French

Total books read:
Nonfiction: 4
Fiction: 15

Genres (as some books have more than one genre, total exceeds 19):

Nonfiction

• Ecology – 1
• Feminism – 1
• History – 2
• Science – 1

Fiction

• Crime – 1
• Fantasy – 8
• Horror – 2
• Literary fiction – 3
• Romance – 1
• Science fiction – 5

Annual Russian novel:
The Death of Ivan Ilyich, by Leo Tolstoy
 
K. J. Parker: Is he still the best?
A thousand times yes. I love his writing so much. Normally, when I have a favorite writer, it’s because of their skill with character development and emotional resonance. With Parker, it’s a style thing. His prose is what I aspire to write.

Re-reads:
The Blacktongue Thief, by Christopher Buehlman
The Historian, by Elizabeth Kostova
The Color of Magic, by Terry Pratchett
 
 Best book of the year (two-way tie):

The Daughters’ War, by Christopher Buehlman, a prequel to The Blacktongue Thief. Buehlman is my favorite contemporary horror writer, though I believe this title was marketed as fantasy. The goblins have come again. They’re calling this the daughters’ war, because most of the men were killed or maimed in the earlier war. We follow the story through the eyes of Galva, a noble daughter who has signed on with an experimental fighting unit that matches soldiers with giant war corvids.

Buehlman’s prose craft is miles beyond most other writers. He’s got the world building, the character development, and the storytelling to keep you turning pages. Or to not hit pause on the audiobook. Narrator Nikki Garcia does a terrific job with the narration.

Rosewater, by Tade Thompson, a story of alien invasion in a future Nigeria. It’s science fiction plus thriller plus horror plus adventure. One scene features a carnivorous floating alien, and it was so terrifying I went back and listened again, immediately, something I have not done since reading the basement scene in The Road, by Cormac McCarthy. Narrator Bayo Gbadamosi was a pleasure to listen to.

Best audiobook narrator:
Christopher Buehlman. After reading The Daughters’ War, I headed immediately to reread its sequel, The Blacktongue Thief, both written and narrated by Buehlman. He was a stage performer for many years before shifting to writing, and his voice acting chops are superb. It’s unfair that one person can be so talented as a writer and actor too.

All the books I read, sorted by genre:

Nonfiction

Feminism
hooks, bell. Ain't I a Woman?, 1981

History
Cronon, William. Changes in the Land, 1983
Katz, William Loren. Black Indians, 1986

Science
Denworth, Lydia. Friendship, 2020

Fiction

Crime
French, Tana. The Hunter, 2024

Fantasy
Buehlman, Christopher. The Daughters’ War, 2021
Buehlman, Christopher. The Blacktongue Thief, 2024
King, Stephen. Fairy Tale, 2002
Parker, K. J. A Practical Guide to Conquering the World, 2022
Pratchett, Terry. The Color of Magic, 1983

Horror
Kostova, Elizabeth. The Historian, 2005

Literary fiction
North, Claire. Ithaca, 2022
Saunders, George. Pastoralia, 2000
Tolstoy, Leo. The Death of Ivan Ilyich, 1886

Science fiction
Butler, Octavia. Bloodchild and Other Stories, 1995
Klune, TJ. In the Lives of Puppets, 2023
Ravn, Olga. The Employees, 2022
Tchaikovsky, Adrian. Elder Race, 2021
Thompson, Tade. Rosewater, 2018

Seventeen years ago, I read The Historian, a literary horror novel by Elizabeth Kostova. It made a good impression on me back then, so I pulled it out again.

Notably, I did my re-read in print. I listened an hour before abandoning the audiobook, because I do not like ensemble casts. The only exception to this rule is the audio of Lincoln in the Bardo, by George Saunders, probably the best audiobook I’ve ever listened to. And one of the best books I’ve ever read.

And I’ve been trying to bring print reading back to my life. I’m happier when I dedicate part of my day to sitting in my recliner with a book.

The Historian is about scholars pursuing Vlad Tepes, aka Vlad the Impaler, aka Dracula. It is a page-turner, which is important when your book is 600+ pages long, though I am mystified at how this is possible, considering that most of the action is set in libraries and archives. And by action I mean “academics reading letters and historical documents.” Infrequently, a vampire will pop out of the library stacks to fang someone, but mostly the characters admire architecture and read solemnly by lamplight. It shouldn’t work but it does.

More than most writers, Kostova excels at atmosphere. She brings to life various settings in Europe in the 1950s and 1970s, including the communist chill of Romania, famous for a region called Transylvania. There’s not much graphic violence in the story, but Kostova lays on the atmospheric dread almost from page one.

For my annual Russian novel, I chose a Tolstoy novella, The Death of Ivan Ilyich. Of all the world’s literature, nineteenth century Russian is my favorite. Depressed people with patronyms and convoluted sentences. This is my happy place.

The title gives it away, but Ivan Ilyich dies in this book. He does so at the beginning of the story, leaving his family with not enough money to get by on. This sort of thing happens a lot in Russian literature.

Right after Tolstoy kills him off, we go back in time to see the course of his life as a living man. If this were twenty-five years ago and I were still an English undergraduate, I might care about this unconventional structure, but I’m middle aged and can’t be bothered.

Sometimes Tolstoy writes likeable characters, like dear sweet Pierre in War and Peace. This is your occasional reminder that I read War and Peace last year. I don’t want anyone forgetting. Other times Tolstoy writes assholes. You will not be terribly sad when Ivan Ilyich dies.

Ivan Ilyich cares more about wealth and power than he cares about, for instance, his wife. There’s one home decorating scene, where he’s deciding which furnishing and decorations will best show off his status, that calls to mind the vapid people on HGTV.

It’s while he’s hanging his wealth curtains that Ivan Ilyich stumbles and injures himself. It seems mild, but the injury turns into a chronic condition. Probably. Or perhaps something else causes the illness that slowly weakens Ivan Ilyich. The doctors aren’t sure, though they’re happy to take his money.

George Guidall is one of my favorite audiobook narrators, and he does a magnificent job here, as usual. If you’re curious about Russian literature, this is a fine starting point, especially since the book is fairly short, unlike War and Peace, which I read last year.

My other recommendation would be the George Saunders book A Swim in a Pond in the Rain, which combines Russian shorts stories with literary criticism. I know that sounds like homework but it isn’t. It’s delightful, especially as an audiobook.

Tana French remains my favorite crime novelist. The Hunter gives me what I’ve come to expect: Vibrant characters, strong Irish setting, prose that shines, and a plot that takes you unexpected places, but without rushing to get there.

Moving away from the police procedurals where she got her start, French takes us back to Ardnakelty, the small town where retired American detective Cal Hooper moved to a few years ago, in The Searcher. You don’t need to read that one to appreciate this sequel, though the first book introduces characters we see again in The Searcher.

Cal is resolutely not doing police work these days. He’s dating Lena, the young widow, and he’s teaching carpentry to Trey, the urchin from up the mountain. There’s a quiet sameness to the days, which is just how Cal likes it.

And then Trey’s absent father reappears, singing a song about gold buried in land, and carrying a posh Englishman in tow.

I especially liked this book because I correctly guessed who the murderer was, for a damn change.

If you enjoy audiobooks, I implore you to listen to the narration of Roger Clark, who nails the American and Irish accents. It’s a pleasure to listen to him shape the cadences of French’s characters.  

Today is American Thanksgiving, a holiday mired in whitewashed politics and history. I’m trying to unlearn the propaganda I imbibed as a child, trying to teach myself indigenous history.

So here I am reading a book by a *checks notes* white man…?

It’s a classic in the field. The way our systems and education and history have shaped things, most classics in most fields are written by white men.

William Cronon’s Changes in the Land: Indians, Colonists and the Ecology of New England (1983) is a seminal work of ecological history. Cronon studies how natives interacted with the natural environment and compares it to European interactions.

It’s a short book, but dense. I listened to the audiobook, narrated by Bob Souer, and I will confess I zoned out at times. But the gist is: European-style, balls-to-the-wall exploitation of the land is not sustainable. Your crops will fail if you keep planting the same seeds on the same fields, year after year. Your multiplying sheep will trample the ground, compacting the soil so they have to graze further and further afield.

There is more subtlety in this book than “Natives good, Colonizers bad,” but I have to say, the Europeans don’t come out looking great. Also they were shit at honoring treaties.

I’m glad I read the book, since it is a foundational text of ecological history, but it was a slog. I used to have patience for academic writing. It was necessary when I was an undergraduate history major. I am losing that patience as an adult.

Apart from Stephen King, who is a category unto himself, my favorite horror writer is Christopher Buehlman. I read The Daughters’ War (2024) and immediately chased it with a reread of the sequel, The Blacktongue Thief (2021).

Both are sword-n-sorcery dark fantasy novels. The Daughters’ War follows Galva, a duke’s daughter marching into battle with the goblins. Most of the fighters in this war are women, since the goblins killed or maimed the men in previous wars. Her unit uses war corvids, an untested  new weapon concocted by wizards with a knack for experimental biology. Each woman fights with two of these giant murder birds.

Galva reappears in The Blacktongue Thief, set nine years after the events in The Daughters’ War, though now the point-of-view character is Kinch, a professional thief. They travel together, reluctantly, to find a missing princess. And this time the baddies are giants.

There’s no shortage of books with these familiar elements: goblins and giants, wizards and witches, quests to find missing princesses. But Buehlman’s novels are far better than most of what’s out there. His prose is what I aspire to. His characters become real people to the reader, and the plot takes you places you do not expect, with thoughtful world-building and vivid settings.

Nikki Garcia does a terrific job reading The Daughters’ War, particularly in some of the battle scenes. Her narration stirred my blood and made me want to hit something. And Buehlman narrates The Blacktongue Thief. In his other career, he is a stage performer, and it shows. His reading is incredible.

Since moving to Minnesota in May, my pleasure reading has dropped way off. Things have been bananas, especially with the ongoing mold problem in my basement. I don’t know when I’ll get back to weekly book talks. Occasional book talks, that’s more realistic.

Departing from her signature mind-bending science fiction novels, e.g., The First Fifteen Lives of Harry August, Claire North turns to Greek mythology in Ithaca.

This is the story of a city populated by women and old people and very few children, because the men have been absent for years, waging war against Troy and/or sleeping with island witches.

When skirmishers attack Ithaca, it falls to the women to save the city. This is difficult for Penelope, who must be quiet and empty-headed, lest she give the impression that she means to wrest power from her husband Odysseus, never mind that he’s been gone for years without so much as a postcard.

Complicating matters, Penelope’s cousin Clytemnestra just murdered her awful husband Agamemnon, and now she has arrived in secret in Ithaca, seeking refuge.

North has a gift for words. She writes characters who stay with me for years, and while battle and action and drama are plentiful, she is a contemplative writer, giving care to details and inner thoughts even as the raiders attack.

If you’ve enjoyed the outstanding Greek retellings by Natalie Haynes and Madeline Miller, Ithaca will be up your alley. And if you enjoy audiobooks, Catrin Walker-Booth is a captivating narrator.