I’ve read 150 books this year (the image shows only a selection); according to Goodreads that’s 40,927 pages, with an average rating of 3.5. That’s slightly more books, but fewer pages, than last year. All but nine of this year’s reads were fiction, of which 19 (13% – slightly down on last year) are translations. An analysis of my first 100 reads found 71% were from independent publishers. Enough with the figures, let’s take a closer look at the year’s overall favourites. |
It’s no surprise there’s no non-fiction among my favourites, but plaudits to Ghachar Ghochar, about an ordinary Indian family that maintains its well-being through “selective acts of blindness and deafness”, for representing novels in translation. Another one-off is Leone Ross’s sizzling short story collection, Come Let Us Sing Anyway, one of only five short fiction anthologies I read this year. |
Equally quirky is Xan Brooks’ debut, The Clocks in This House All Tell Different Times, a mix of fairytale and nightmare, yet told with great compassion, set five years after the end of the First World War. John Boyne’s The Heart’s Invisible Furies also combines tenderness and comedy in a picaresque romp through the recent history of Catholic Ireland from the perspective of a gay man. |
The Trout also visits Ireland’s shameful secrets via the writer husband of one of the most credible fictional therapists I’ve encountered so far. The protagonist of In Extremis sees a therapist, but I appreciated this novel more for its close-up and personal depiction of life as it really is, in all its physical and mental messiness. |
Not generally a fan of the fast-paced thriller, I nevertheless loved Epiphany Jones, with its themes of mental health, sex trafficking and the emptiness of Hollywood. I suppose I do appreciate |
Racism is one of the minor themes of Johannesburg, Fiona Melrose’s homage to Mrs Dalloway via a portrait of contemporary South Africa on the day Nelson Mandela’s death is announced. |