My Top Ten Reads of 2015

Whew!

Call this the blog that almost didn't happen.

 I kept track of all the books I read last year like a dutiful book blogger (I read 36 by-the-by), noting which could be candidates for my Top Ten list along the way. Then in late December I actually compiled the Top Ten list, intending to write and publish this post either just before or just after the New Year.

Heh. Heh.

Best intentions, right?

Oh well. Let's get down to it, shall we? I have the same rules as I had in previous years: all styles of books are fair game because I'm not a pretentious bitch, and only one book by any given author can make the list, because I like to make equal opportunity Top Ten lists. I already reviewed some of the books that made the cut this year, and when relevant I will link to those reviews. In years past I linked to each book's kindle page but I think I will cut that part out with this end-of-year literary list. I read both electronic and dead tree books (aka paperback) and I feel like linking to ebooks only might come across as preferential. 

I don't want to tell you how or what or why to read. That's not my business, so long as you actually fucking read. This is a literary world, after all. 

And now the Top Ten list:

(10) Farewell, My Lovely by Raymond Chandler

Raymond Chandler was one of the founding fathers of noir fiction. Phillip Marlowe, the fictional PI he created is the literary godfather to all who followed him. If you've never given noir a try, give THIS one a try. If you love modern hardboiled fiction but have never explored its predecessors, fucking do so now.

(Also, if you have an hour or so to kill and are possessed of a sense of humor and a love of a well-turned line, go look at @chandlerisms on twitter. The account tweets only lines from the master's books. Lots of fun.)

(9) Mr. Penumbra's 24-Hour Bookstore by Robin Sloan

This book was so, so, so much fun. It managed to somehow be both in love with technology and Luddite-ish at the same time. I don't want to say much else, except: read this fun, fun, fun book! And check out @penumbra on twitter.

(8) The Corrections by Jonathan Franzen

I didn't want to like this book, but I did. And I wrote about it here. 

(7) Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn

My boyfriend Brandon and I both read this book early last year. It was phenomenal! Then we watched the movie. It was ok. Not phenomenal, but not horrible.

(6) The 8 by Katherine Neville

This was one of a short stack of paperbacks that Brandon pulled off one of his shelves and handed to me because he thought I might like them. And my fucking god was he right!! Holy intrigue! Reading this felt like reading one of Agatha Christie's political intrigue novels.

(5) Warning Signs by Stephen White

This was another book from Brandon's short stack. It was the last book I read in 2015 and I loved it so much that so far this year I've read three more books from the same series, and I am currently reading a fourth. Yep. Love me Stephen White.

(4) The Fault in Our Stars by John Green

Please believe me when I say that I am done fangirling all over John Green. But I couldn't honestly leave this book off my list. I didn't so much READ this book as I INHALED it, in a few short hours (spread over 2 days) after which I sobbed like a little bitch. 

Reading John Green novels turns me into an emo 17-year-old. Check out an old post I wrote about how John Green writes about young girls. 

(3) The Last Call by George Wier

George Wier is an author I discovered in 2015. I started with this book, The Last Call, which is the first in a series of noir mysteries set in my town: Austin Texas! I loved it so much that I went on to read three more books in the series, and I plan to read them all!

(2) To Kill a Mockingbird and Go Set a Watchman by Harper Lee

Okay, so maybe I'm cheating a little by bundling both of Lee's books into one slot on my Top Ten list. Maybe, but I don't think so. If you buy the argument (and I do) that Watchman was the rediscovered first draft of Mockingbird, they can really be taken as different versions of the same story. Even if you don't buy that argument, Watchman is best appreciated in connection with Mockingbird.

I blogged about the pairing last summer. Take a look here. 

(1) The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald

Full disclosure: my reading of The Great Gatsby in 2015 was my second read-through of this novel. Like most Americans it was required reading for me in high school. But high school me HATED this book. I found it by turns boring and pretentious. I walked away from Gatsby with the impression that in it Fitzgerald celebrated the excesses of the leisured elite. That really pissed me off.

Boy was high school me thick. I completely missed the point of Gatsby. This time around, with a number of years and a TON of life experience under my belt, I found I could not merely appreciate, but actually LOVE this book. I'm so glad I gave it a second try.

Reading Jonathan Franzen, a Sort-Of Review of The Corrections

I'm always incredibly late to the party.

This year (2015) I finally read The Corrections by Jonathan Franzen, a book that came out in 2001 and immediately took the Literary world by storm.

I didn't wait 14 years to read the book because I hadn't heard of it. I was aware of it. Books that are as successful and highly praised as The Corrections are difficult to ignore.

In fact, I thought about The Corrections a little too much for a book I intended never to read. I picked it up countless times at book stores and libraries, fingering the pages, eyes roaming the cover, thinking "Maybe? No." Before putting it back down.

I just couldn't bring myself to read it. Why? Because of 2 things I had read about the book and its author: (1) The Corrections is a literary masterpiece, and (2) Jonathan Franzen is a pompous windbag.

I have no idea if Mr. Franzen is as much of a douchebag as twitter asserts. Just for fun, I suggest you google "why the internet hates Jonathan Franzen" and read some of the articles that come up.

What follows is a review of sorts. It's not so much a review of The Corrections itself as it is a review of my experience of reading a Jonathan Franzen novel. (Oh yes, I'm that self-involved.) In list form, because lists.

(1) The cover of The Corrections is a case study in the culture war between literary fiction and genre fiction.

You might think that the book's cover art is fairly simple and innocuous, but you would be wrong. The picture is of an American family sitting down to what is presumably a holiday meal. The family is white and probably at least middle class, as evidenced by the Sunday best that the two young boys you can see are reluctantly wearing.

(I'm comfortable assuming that this is a holiday meal because of the gorgeous turkey that is proudly presented by the matriarch of the depicted family. Turkeys are understood as the cultural centerpiece of American holiday meals, despite the fact that not every family chooses to have one.)

Book covers are designed to entice readers to buy the book. In order to do so, they attempt to create a feeling of kinship between the readers and the book, as well as the book's author. The symbolism used in the cover art, therefore, is not accidental.

JONATHAN FRANZEN is emblazoned across the top third of the cover, in larger typeface than The Corrections. The picture of the family-at-holiday-mealtime takes up less than 25% of the cover space, and is pushed down to the bottom of the cover.

Between the title of the novel and the picture is a blurb from the New York Review of Books:

"You will laugh, wince, groan, weep, leave the table and maybe the country, promise to never go home again, and be reminded of why you read serious fiction in the first place."

Where to begin?
Setting the author's name in larger typeface than the book title suggests that the author is a larger draw than the book itself, and thus more important. So, from the outset the reader is being told that Jonathan Franzen is a Super Important Dude.

Mr. Franzen's  name is so large on the cover that it dwarfs the picture beneath it. But that's not all. The position of his name in relation to the picture, as well as the size of his name in relation to the picture, are both meaningful and problematic:  unless you're white, middle class, and exclusively read literary fiction, in which case this cover just reinforces your pre-existing world views.

But I'm not talking to those people.

This cover associates Jonathan Franzen, as an author and public figure, with the middle class, middle class culture, and middle class ideals. But, since his name lords it over the rest of the cover art, it also elevates him above those very people and ideals. He is both of the privileged class and better than the privileged class, and from his vaunted position, he is qualified to judge the rest of the people in it.

The blurb from the New York Review of Books serves to assure the reader that he/she has a place at the holiday table. He/she is being told explicitly that "yes. You are one of us." The reader is acknowledged to have a background similar to those in the picture (and, presumably, to that of Jonathan Franzen himself). The holiday meal depicted on the cover is referred to as Home. This book, therefore, is being presented as a shared experience.

But it's not just The Corrections that is being shared. Also implied as shared between the readers of the novel and the book's author is the middle class American experience, and all that that includes: material comfort, stability, an above-average education that includes college, parents that probably don't love each other but probably also don't beat you, and boredom.

Oh, and Serious Fiction. Mr. Franzen writes Serious Fiction and his readers and cohorts exclusively read it.

There are others, of course, who aren't invited to Mr. Franzen's shared literary experience. Those who are too poor, maybe, or too uneducated, to read Serious Fiction. Who are they? Readers of genre fiction, of course. And I am one of those people.

Hence my long-time reluctance to pick up and actually read The Corrections.

(2) I absolutely fucking loved The Corrections

I so hate to admit this, after having so thoroughly dissected the book's disgustingly elitist cover art. But it's true. It will likely end up on my end-of-year top ten list.

(3) I will likely read Mr. Franzen's newest and even more controversial novel Purity. 

BOOK REVIEW: Go Set a Watchman AND To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee

All right, my literary-minded friends, it's time. Not only am I about to throw down my thoughts on one of the most beloved American novels of all time, I'm also going to weigh in on what was probably the most anticipated literary release since the seventh installment of the Harry Potter series.

I'm about to review BOTH To Kill a Mockingbird AND Go Set a Watchman by Harper Lee.

I'm going to start with the book that I and most others read first, To Kill a Mockingbird. But before I dive in I'd like to say a few words about what my review will and will NOT do:

(1) My review will discuss the singular and comparative literary merits of both of Lee's novels,
(2) My review will discuss the positions of both novels within the cultural and socio-political landscape of the U.S. in general and the South in particular,
(3) My review will not speculate about the sudden emergence of Harper Lee's first novel, Go Set a Watchman, and what that might mean. In my opinion, far too much has already been written about how and why this book has suddenly come to light. (This is the most recent article I've read on the subject. It's also the one I find the most interesting.) Many of the 1000+ reviews on the novel's Amazon page touch on the controversy.

I'm not here to talk about the controversy. I don't have anything meaningful to add to that argument, and, more importantly, I feel it is irrelevant. To Kill a Mockingbird is more than just a literary masterpiece: it is an important American cultural artifact. And Go Set a Watchman, in addition to its own merits, adds to Mockingbird's legacy.

Here we go!
I didn't read Mockingbird--ever, in my life--until earlier this month. According to my running list of Books I Read in 2015 I finished the novel on July 7, and if my memory serves it took me about three days to read it. 

Before you ask, yes I read it in advance of the July 14 release of Go Set a Watchman.

I feel I was probably one of the last--if not THE last--Americans over the age of 30 who had not read Mockingbird. Unlike many I wasn't required to read the book in high school, and though I have always been an avid reader it just never occurred to me to read Harper Lee's book.

 I grew up in Silicon Valley in California in the 80s and 90s completely unaware that racism continued (and continues) to be a reality. As a child I was surrounded by people of every hue and ethnicity, and every linguistic and religious background imaginable. To me, people were people and that was that. If there were divisions to be drawn (and I felt that was mostly unnecessary) than I would have put those dividing lines between the Haves and the Have Nots. I grew up poor and the older I got the more keenly I felt the differences between me and the children of means. Other than that, though, why categorize people at all?

For those (and other) reasons, I simply wasn't interested in a book I knew to be about Southern racism set in the 50s. Southern racism wasn't my or California's problem, especially since I believed it to be, like slavery, a thing of the past.
 

Gregory Peck depicts Atticus Finch in the film adaptation of To Kill a Mockingbird

Boy was I wrong! I moved to Pennsylvania in 1994 at the age of 18. I settled in State College, which is the home of Penn State's Nittany Lions and was also the site, the week before I arrived, of a cross burning at the home of a local black family. 

A cross burning. In 1994. At first, I was too shocked to be horrified or angry. I said to my friends: "That still happens? That's so old school!"

And then came the anonymous death threats to the president of Penn State's Black Student's Union, which said something to the effect of: "This is a white school in a white state in a white nation and by God it will stay that way."

My naive world view was shattered. Many years later I moved to Tennessee, and it was there I realized that although the institutions of slavery and Jim Crow are over, when it comes to race relations in America, the more things change, the more they stay the same.

I lived in Middle Tennessee for about twelve year, first in Nashville and later in Murfreesboro, which is about an hour's drive from Pulaski, the birthplace of the Ku Klux Klan. The football team of Middle Tennessee State University, where I received a BS in sociology and an MS in mass communication, is called the Blue Raiders and many buildings on campus are named after Nathan Bedford Forrest, celebrated confederate general and founding KKK member. 

In fact, there is an infamous statue of Forrest off I-65 outside Nashville that is surrounded by U.S., Tennessee, and confederate flags. 

I could go on and on. The fact of the matter is, though much of the nation views slavery, the Civil War, Reconstruction, and Jim Crow as issues of our distant past, they remain right at the forefront of Southern memory. (By way of example, read this news article from Memphis about contentions surrounding his gravesite and a different commemorative statue.) And for the first time in my life, I was learning that there are very real divisions between people in our country. And there are still a whole lot of otherwise normal, well-mannered people who don't view all people the same.

So I'm glad that I waited until now to read To Kill a Mockingbird. Because a lot of it would have been lost on me if I read it before living in the South.

As a piece of literature, Mockingbird is genius. Told from the point of view of a young girl (Scout is poised to start school at the beginning of the novel), the tone manages to capture the innocence of childhood and yet remain mature enough to be accessible to readers. Jean Louise "Scout" Finch, the narrator of the book, thinks like a kid and speaks like a kid (as the excerpt below will show) but somehow Lee manages to impart the grander points of the book anyway.

Enjoying a summer twilight with their neighbor Miss Maudie, Scout asked her about the reclusive Boo Radley:

"'Miss Maudie,' I said one evening, 'do you think Boo Radley's still alive?'
"'His name's Arthur and he's alive,' she said. She was rocking slowly in her big oak chair. 'Do you smell my mimosa?' It's like angels' breath in the evening.'
"'Yessum. How do you know?'
"'Know what, child?'
"'That B--Mr. Arthur's still alive?'
"'What a morbid question. But I suppose it's a morbid subject. I know he's alive, Jean Louise, because I haven't seen him carried out yet.'
"'Maybe he died and they stuffed him up the chimney.
"'Where did you get such a notion?'
"'That's what Jem said he thought they did.'
"'S-ss-ss. He gets more like Jack Finch every day.'"

Can't you picture that scene? Can't you feel the sultry summer heat and smell Miss Maudie's mimosas? It's simply elegant prose.

Scout, Atticus, and Jem Finch from the film adaptation

But I chose to recount this scene for another reason: Scout Finch, as I have said, is the narrator of Mockingbird, and her central preoccupation throughout the story is Boo Radley. It's not racism. But ask anyone who has read the book what it's about, and they'll say "Racism." They might say Tom Robinson or the trial or Atticus Finch. The name Boo Radley may even be mentioned, but no one would claim that the story is about HIM. That is the genius of this book: the grand points, the themes that your English teachers yammer on and on about, are woven throughout an innocent and seemingly unrelated narrative. So what you end up with is a complete novel that manages to be BOTH a slice of Americana AND a politically charged tale. Nothing is lost, nothing is sacrificed, and nothing is rammed down the reader's throat.

And that, friends and book lovers, is why To Kill a Mockingbird will forever be known as a far greater work than Go Set a Watchman.

Assuming this "new" novel's provenance is true (though not everyone does. the July 27 2015 issue of the New Yorker makes an interesting argument for why it may not be) Watchman is the first draft of the first novel young Harper Lee ever wrote. It's the rough material out of which Mockingbird was forged. Given that, her writing is DAMN GOOD. Anyone who has ever written anything knows how bad first drafts typically are. First drafts are GARBAGE. In one of my own first drafts I killed the same character TWICE. I've read some pretty mean things said about the literary quality of Watchman, but it's not typical-first-draft bad. It's not kill-the-same-character-twice bad. It's simply not as good as Mockingbird. 

But you know what? Nothing but Mockingbird is as good as Mockingbird. So calm down, angry literary critics.

Even so, much of Harper Lee's famously artful prose is evident in Watchman, particularly in the first half. The novel opens with Scout (now the adult Jean Louise) on the train back to Maycomb County from her new home in New York:

"She had told the conductor not to forget to let her off, and because the conductor was an elderly man, she anticipated his joke: he would rush at Maycomb Junction like a bat out off hell and stop the train a quarter of a mile past the little station, then when he bade her goodbye he would say he was sorry, he almost forgot. Trains changed; conductors never did. Being funny at flag stops with young ladies was a mark of the profession, and Atticus, who predict the actions of every conductor from New Orleans to Cincinnati, would be waiting accordingly not six steps away from her point of debarkation."

Except, this time, Atticus was not there to meet her. Instead Hank, her childhood friend and sometime suitor, was waiting a quarter mile back, on the platform at the train station, and had to run to meet her. 

And there's your foreshadowing.

While Mockingbird was a Great American Novel that had a lot to say about Southern Racism, Watchman is a "novel" that seeks to make a point about racism. I put the word "novel" in quotes not to deride Watchman, because I enjoyed it and find it a worthy read, but because it simply cannot stand on its own.

In a very real sense, in order to understand and care about the events and characters in Go Set a Watchman, you must have first read To Kill a Mockingbird. I will link again here to the New Yorker article because they explain this better than I ever could. Suffice it to say, with the exception of Hank, who didn't appear in Mockingbird, the main players in Watchman aren't actually introduced to the reader. Rather, the text reads and feels like a return to Maycomb, which serves to place the reader firmly in Scout's shoes.

That is the strength of Watchman. The reader experiences the same shock and betrayal that Scout does. As her Uncle Jack says, Scout had deified her father, and so had we. She needed to see him as a man, and so did we. Atticus Finch IS a man: good, but flawed.

In the decades since Mockingbird was published, Atticus Finch has grown to eclipse superstar literary status. As a character, he has always been more than a man, but as a cultural artifact, he has become more than a character. He is a symbol for equality, for justice, and for a sort of quiet, respectable fairness held in the face of defiant opposition. Recall the way in which Atticus quietly held his ground when confronted by the mob that sought to kill Tom Robinson before his trial. He didn't shout at the mob, and he didn't threaten them, though they threatened HIM. All he did was hold his ground and the mob eventually thought better of its plan.

Cultural memory would have readers believe that it was the force of Atticus Finch's egalitarian personality that stopped the mob from killing Tom Robinson that night. But a re-read of Mockingbird will remind Atticus's apologists that the following morning he had this to say of an individual in the mob:

"'Mr. Cunningham's basically a good man,' he said, 'he just has his blind spots along with the rest of us.'
"Jem spoke. 'Don't call that a blind spot. He'da killed you last night when he first went there.'
"'He might have hurt me a little,' Atticus conceded, 'but son, you'll understand folks a little better when you're older. A mob's always made up of people, no matter what.'"

That scene curiously foreshadows an event in Watchman, when Scout discovers that he father and Hank have joined the Maycomb County Citizens' Council, a group composed of nearly every white man in Maycomb, and which existed entirely to oppose desegregation. Scout reeled when she discovered this, as did the rest of America upon the release of Watchman. (Read this People magazine article about the family who changed their infant son's name from Atticus to Luke after reading the book.)

Go Set a Watchman,  in my opinion, makes an even bigger and more nuanced point than To Kill a Mockingbird did. Where Mockingbird told Americans that racism exists and it's bad, Watchman asserts that racism not only exists--it's woven into the fabric of all of our lives. In Mockingbird, racism was something that existed outside of people who didn't agree with it. It could be fought against in court. In Watchman, racism is an integral part of the structure of our society. As Uncle Jack explains to an exasperated Scout, it has historical precedent in feudal England. It is foundational and cannot be changed without upsetting everything. 

When Scout argues that the time had come to do what's right by Negroes, Atticus counters that she doesn't know or mean what she says:

"'I mean every word of it.'
"'Then let's put this on a practical basis right now. Do you want Negroes by the carload in our schools and churches and theaters? Do you want them in our world?'
"'They're people aren't they? We were quite willing to import them when they made money for us.'"

I think that exchange is as good example as any to demonstrate that Watchman is a novel that exists to make a point. Harper Lee had something to say about Southern Racism, and she sort of wrapped a story around the thing. That's why Mockingbird is a better story.

But I'm glad that I read Watchman and I'm glad that it came out when it did. Within the literary universe of To Kill a Mockingbird and Go Set a Watchman, Jean Louise Finch had to grow up and realize that racism tainted every part of her life, her family, and her beloved Maycomb County. And within American culture, we all have had to grow up and realize that racism taints ALL of our history and ALL of our present. Whether or not individuals, like me, grew up naively assuming it was a thing of the past and Not Our Problems.

Atticus says something in Mockingbird that is curiously prescient. I read it in the breakroom of my workplace and cried out loud when I did. Decades after the book's publication, it could not be more relevant:

"Atticus was speaking so quietly his last word crashed on our ears. I looked up, and his face was vehement. 'There's nothing more sickening to me than a low-grade white man who'll take advantage of a Negro's ignorance. Don't fool yourselves--it's all adding up and one of these days we're going to pay the bill for it.'"

The Dog Days of Summer

"Calpurnia listened. 'I know it's February, Miss Eula May, but I know a mad dog when I see one. Please ma'am hurry!'"

-- To Kill a Mockingbird

A lot has been said, surmised, and written about the scene in Harper Lee's classic novel in which old Tim Johnson, beloved neighborhood dog, is found to have gone "mad" (rabid) and is shot dead by Atticus Finch in front of his shocked children. Atticus, once hailed as the best shot in the entire county, is not a gun owner and has never handled a firearm in front of his family. Atticus Finch is a gentleman.

Ahem. Well. That is a discussion for another time and place. Here we will focus on the interesting and unexplained insistence in the novel that dogs do not, as a rule, "go mad" in the winter time.

Having grown up in cities with generally well-funded animal control departments, I have been fortunate enough to have never seen a rabid dog. I do know that rabies is passed from one infected dog, bat, or human to another through contact with bodily fluids, usually via bites. So when I read this scene in Mockingbird my first thought was: "What the hell does the season have to do with the presence of a rabid dog?"

My second thought was: "Oh my God! Is the notion that dogs only go mad in the heat of the summer the meaning behind the phrase dog days of summer? If so, is To Kill a Mockingbird the origin of that phrase?"

Short answers: sort of, and no. According to Wikipedia, the phrase originated way before Harper Lee was even born and had more to do with astronomy than anything else. But the sentiment behind the saying remains the same, generations later. From an 1813 poem:

Dog Days were popularly believed to be an evil time "the Sea boiled, the Wine turned sour, Dogs grew mad...

Mad dogs just need to be loved.

My Top Ten Reads of 2014

Welcome to my Second Annual Top Ten Reading List!

This just might be the least important Top Ten Reading List you'll come across this holiday season. Unlike others, my list isn't comprised only of books that came out in 2014, nor is it a Top Ten List of books by HOT NEW AUTHORS. Theses aren't books of Earth-shattering importance, and they're not books written by self-published authors who are on the rise.

These are just books that I stumbled across this year, read, and fell in love with.

That's all that I want out of my books. I won't tell you how to read or who to read, but I want to highlight these books because I think that you may enjoy them. Okay?

First things first: I read 29 total books this year. More than some of you may have read, and definitely less than a lot of you read. I read self-published books and traditionally published books, fiction and non-fiction. When it comes to my Top Ten List I only have one rule: any given author may only have one book on the list. To do otherwise just seems to me unfair. That limited how I could shape my list, however, as I discovered and fell WAY in love with three authors this year: Donald Westlake (I read three of his books), John Green (I read three of his books as well), and Nelson DeMille (I read a whopping SEVEN of his books this year).

So you can probably understand my rule now, huh?

Here's your alert:

SPOILERS AHEAD!!

And away we go!!

Number Ten: The Ghost of Blackwood Hall by Carolyn Keene

If you've spent any time at all on this blog, then you already know of my affinity for the Nancy Drew Mystery stories. I've reviewed a few of them before. The character of Nancy Drew was an early feminist icon for young girls and her stories are chock full of adventure and spine-tingling moments. I love them. Has it been a decade (or more) since you spent an afternoon with Nancy? Pick one of her books up again. I guarantee you won't regret it.

Number Nine: Beyond Hades by Luke Romyn

Beyond Hades is an action-packed thrill ride based on one crazy notion: Greek mythology is real and someone has opened the gates to Hades, unleashing monsters of unspeakable ferocity. Pardon my pun, but what in the HADES would we do in that situation?

Call in the military, an academic, and a time-traveling Aussie to save the planet. 

Seriously. This book is just that crazy and just that fun. It also ends on kind of a cliffhanger, but don't worry: there's a part two.

Beyond Hades is available for the Kindle. Buy here!

Number Eight: 12 Years a Slave by Solomon Northup

In the late 1800s an African American man named Solomon Northup wrote a harrowing memoir that raised a few Victorian eyebrows before it slowly faded from the limelight until it was made into a movie of the same name earlier this year. I heard of the movie and decided I would rather read the book.

If you are an American I urge you to read this memoir. It will change the way you think of our history. Yes, we all know our nation was built on the backs of slaves. Yes, we all know that a war was fought that ultimately resulted in the freeing of those slaves and the simultaneous creation of a category of second-class citizenship, the echoes of which are still felt today. We all know this. 

But the real, lived experience of an American slave is something most of us have the good fortune to know nothing about. And shame on us for that. If we as a nation are ever to be able to move on from the continuing impact of our bloody heritage, we all must be made to face the truth of it.

Solomon Northup was a Northerner who was born free. His father, a lifelong slave to a man with--at the time--progressive views on the subject, was freed in his master's will. Solomon was taught to read and write, to farm, some basic carpentry, and also learned to play several musical instruments. When he became a man he married his sweetheart and started a family. And then he was kidnapped and sold into slavery. And because of all of the laws that governed slaves and their movements, he couldn't just go to the police and explain that he was a free man. So he spent twelve long years toiling under the yoke before he finally managed to prove his status and return to his family.

This is a gut-wrenching tale. I challenge you to make it all the way through without shedding a tear.

12 Years a Slave is available for the Kindle. Buy here!

Number Seven: Hyperbole and a Half by Allie Brosh

Hyperbole and a Half is a book that grew out of a blog of the same name. Check it out! But even though I have a blog of my own I tend of walk around woefully unaware of what's happening on the interwebs, so I bought the book without knowing anything of its predecessor. AND I FUCKING LOVED IT. If you know the blog, you know what to expect from the book: lots of super colorful illustrations and soulful venting. Buy it. Read it. And laugh until you cry or piss your pants or both.

Hyperbole and a Half is available for the Kindle. Buy here!

Number Six: The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky

I loved, loved, loved this book.

But I have an embarrassing confession to make: I watched the movie first. I know. That's completely backwards. You're always supposed to read the book first. That way, while you're watching the movie, you can fit together the pieces that don't make sense, and you'll know what was left out. You can read my review of the movie HERE.

The Perks of Being a Wallflower has everything I love about YA books. There's a protagonist who agonizes about not being "normal," fierce friendships that start in uncomfortable ways, and the roller coaster ride of adolescent self-discovery. There's so much Why am I this way? Why are we this way? How can we make the world better/happier/more peaceful/ more exciting?? But it's never too much. None of it is shoved down the reader's throat. In fact, the manner in which Mr. Chbosky wrote the novel allows for the reader to be made to feel uncomfortable in a natural, almost inevitable way. Sort of like reliving adolescence. It is a MASTERPIECE of storytelling.

Also, the story is set in State College, Pennsylvania. I once lived there. If you ever lived there, you will enjoy all the State College references. 

The Perks of Being a Wallflower is available for the Kindle. Buy here! 

Number Five: The Basic Eight by Daniel Handler, aka Lemony Snicket

For the record, I didn't know Daniel Handler was Lemony Snicket when I read this book. Nothing against Lemony Snicket or his Series of Unfortunate Events, but I picked up The Basic Eight because it--and it alone--enticed me.  

There's not much I can say about this book without giving away crucial plot points. I don't mind a spoiler or two in a review but these are Fight Club level twists and I want you to have the same level of enjoyment as I did when I read it. So I'll leave you with the Amazon blurb:

Flannery Culp wants you to know the whole story of her spectacularly awful senior year. Tyrants, perverts, tragic crushes, gossip, cruel jokes, and the hallucinatory effects of absinthe -- Flannery and the seven other friends in the Basic Eight have suffered through it all. But now, on tabloid television, they're calling Flannery a murderer, which is a total lie. It's true that high school can be so stressful sometimes. And it's true that sometimes a girl just has to kill someone. But Flannery wants you to know that she's not a murderer at all -- she's a murderess.

The Basic Eight is available for the Kindle. Buy here! 

Number Four, Truth in Advertising by John Kenney

I picked up Truth in Advertising at Half Price books. It was a pure impulse buy. I knew nothing of John Kenney and the cover art didn't tell me much about the story, but I had a feeling I would like it, and I was right. Buying Truth in Advertising was a damned good rash decision. Smart, funny, fresh, and almost unnervingly wise. I had so many "A-ha!" moments while reading. I highly suggest this read!

Truth in Advertising is available for the Kindle. Buy here! You could be reading in minutes!

Number Three: Plum Island by Nelson DeMille

I said in the introduction that I read seven books by Mr. Nelson DeMille this year. When it came time to compile this Top Ten list I knew that one of his books had to be included, but I wasn't entirely sure which one it would be.

I did know one thing, though: whatever book I chose was going to be a John Corey book. 

John Corey is a recurring character in Mr. DeMille's books. He's also my favorite literary alpha male. I dedicated a whole blog post just to him. Check it out! 

Plum Island is the very first in the series of books that feature Mr. Corey. And it's awesome. Unlike other books on this list, Plum Island isn't deep. There's no brooding, no angst, and no characters who agonize about who they are really. You know in their souls. Don't get me wrong. I love angsty characters. But every so often, a strong, gruff, no-nonsense alpha male is what a story (and I) need. You know, deep down. *wink* *wink*. 

Ha ha. Just kidding But seriously. This book is awesome.

Action. Adventure. Sarcasm. Laughs. This is what you're in for when you read Plum Island. So read it.

Plum Island is available for the Kindle. Buy here!

Number Two: The Cutie by Donald Westlake

The Cutie was the first book I ever bought solely because of its cover. Also, with the 50 cent price tag it had at Recycled Reads Austin, I knew there was no harm in trying it. The way I figured it, I'd peruse a few pages to get a feel for the story, and if it was no good, what had I lost? Fifty cents and a couple minutes of my time. 

No harm, no foul.

I've heard the name Donald Westlake before. And whenever I've heard it, it was spoken with reverence. Donald Westlake is one of the Big-big names in pulp fiction. However, The Cutie was my first foray into the pulpy arts. I've long been intrigued by the idea of pulp fiction, but never really prepared to take the plunge. I mean, yes, I read genre fiction, but pulp? Come on, I have a Master's degree.

Nevertheless, that cover intrigued me. And guess what? IT WAS A FUCKING LIE!! That woman appears NOWHERE in the novel. And she isn't the cutie referred to in the title! Who is the aforementioned cutie? Well, you think you know from the first chapter but the real identity of the cutie is one of the many twisty twists of this book! 

The Cutie was so much fun to read. Donald Westlake has a really hysterical way with words. Here's how chapter two starts, by way of example:

Outside was the city, and it had halitosis. The air was hot and damp, and breathing was a conscious matter.

That is just pure literary gold, pulp fiction style. Love it!

The Cutie is available for the Kindle. Buy here! 

And now, without further ado, we have...

Number One: Looking for Alaska by John Green

WARNING! Throughout the year, I have become something of a fangirl for John Green, and it all started with this book, Looking for Alaska, and the titular character, Alaska Young. Here's what Shmoop said about Alaska, and here's what I said about Alaska, and about the other heroines of John Green novels. 

Because, for me, the real treasures in John Green novels are the heroines he depicts. I discovered this when I read Looking for Alaska the first time, and rediscovered it when I read it again a few months later. (Yes I read this book twice this year. That is why it HAD to be number one.) I found myself falling in love with Alaska right alongside Miles, the main character. I could totally envision myself falling just as hard for a similar girl had I met one when I was Miles' age. 

Looking for Alaska is amazing. It's accessible for both teens and adults without being either overly simple or obtuse or preachy. It's wise and loving, and yes, angsty. But life is angsty, and sometimes we want our art to mirror the struggle of life. 

Looking for Alaska is available for the Kindle. For the love of god, drop everything and buy it!

John Corey: Two-Thirds Cop, One-Third Heartthrob

John Corey is a book character created by best-selling author Nelson DeMille. He stars in a series of books that begin with Plum Island and end with I'm not sure what, because I haven't gotten there yet. Hopefully they'll  never end. Hopefully Nelson DeMille will write John Corey novels until he dies.

John Corey is a retired NYC cop. He retired only reluctantly, after being gunned down in the street by a couple of toughs. He receives three-quarters disability pay but isn't ready to roll over yet, so is working a second career with the Anti-Terrorist Task Force. The ATTF is comprised of agents from both the FBI and CIA as well as contract agents from the NYPD, some retired, some not. The idea of the ATTF is cooperation and information sharing, although Corey will be the first to tell you that that doesn't always work in practice. Even his wife, FBI agent Kate Mayfield, has a higher security clearance and a broader "need-to-know" than he does.

John Corey isn't a hot young stud. He's middle-aged and cynical and sarcastic and more than a little misogynistic. When he meets a woman, he's more likely to notice her cup size than her intellect. But he's not interested in bombshell airheads. The women who turn him on are the ones who can match his quick wit.

Here's a sampling of John Corey-isms:

“Sometimes shit happens even if you have a shit shield” 

“…made me promise to cut down on the drinking and swearing, which I have. Unfortunately, this has left me dim-witted and nearly speechless.” 
― Nelson DeMille, The Lion

“Women need a reason to have sex; men need only a place.” 
― Nelson DeMille, Wild Fire

“Kate had never been married, so she had no way of knowing if I was a normal husband. This has been good for our marriage.” 
― Nelson DeMille, The Lion

“The air was so thick with testosterone that the wallpaper was getting soggy.” 
― Nelson DeMille, Plum Island

I love how Nelson DeMille doesn't give the reader too much information about John Corey's appearance. He tells us that he's middle-aged and physically fit, but that's really about it. We get far more of a feel for how John Corey thinks and speaks, which in the long run tells us more about what sort of person he is. I like to think of Corey as sort of a John McClane character: tough and foul-mouthed and world-weary. In the end, though, I think John Corey has more hope for the future. But maybe that's because he has a smart, take-no-shit wife beside him.

All that matters to me is that John Corey is the literary alpha male that has made me realize I can love literary alpha males. What sort of male characters do YOU like to read? Have you read any of DeMille's John  Corey books? Let me know! Leave a comment here or catch me on twitter. It's where I spend most of my time anyway. 

Check out Nelson DeMille's official website.