Three For the Road

Still with roughly six-hundred pages left in Infinite Jest, I’m now fully-aware that I won’t be finishing any more books this year. So, before I get lost in the time-sucking insanity that is the next couple of weeks, I wanted to remark on the books that’ve made the most impact on me this year, and which chord they struck. I’m not one for year-end countdowns—I’m admittedly late to the game on a lot of stuff, and have a hard time picking “best”—but this year, being in the throes of Revisionsanity, I found what little unoccupied space is left in my head commandeered by these three books (in no particular order).

• The Evolution of Bruno Littlemore by Benjamin Hale: I picked this up out of the ARC paperback box on a whim, its mix of linguistic-nerd candy, literary fiction and a Brooklyn-based author luring me in. I took it off my desk one night to read on the train home, and barely put it down to eat and sleep until I was done twelve days and 578 pages later. Hale’s novel had a soul and bravery that grabbed me, and I loved indulging in its narrator’s bias. I finished feeling like, for the most part, though filtered through Bruno’s perspective, I’d been presented with a novel that was full, dimensional, and cared for by the writer from every angle. It’s an experience I rarely have, and my expectations of my own writing have been heightened as a result; I’m more cognizant of the 360-degree view of novel construction.


• Anthropology of an American Girl by Hilary Thayer Hamann: Once I’d finished this novel, quit sobbing and started to breathe again like a normal human, I still couldn’t find words for Hamann’s 2010 novel (also plucked from the ARC bin). In 608 pages, Hamann accomplished something on which I’d thrown in the towel: translating what love actually feels like. But not love as as its portrayed conventionally—the kind of love that few are even capable of feeling, and that one must be damaged to feel. The kind of love I’ve experienced, the kind of love that’s scared me and consumed me and fueled me so intensely that it’s evaded words. Hamann found them.


•  You Deserve Nothing by Alexander Maksik: That this novel is wrapped in controversy regarding truth and exploitation is irrelevant; regardless of its source material, Nothing’s feats in structure, pacing and voice stand on their own. I picked this up at Europa’s table at the Brooklyn Book Festival, and read it at the right time—one during which I was worried if my own writing was substantial or “about anything” when paired down. Maksik’s narrative, a relationship story (among souls and streets) at its core, reminded me to, well, believe that I was enough because I decided I was. And turns out I am.

That’s my (narcissistic) story. Now I’m dying to know which titles have left their mark on you this year.

MT