My Top 10 Books of 2023
Or the story of how I stopped improving myself to death.
It’s 2024!
Am I late? Every content machine and the people that run them have been coming out with their Best Of 2023s since November. Anyone actually living in November knows that the end of the year could still be many feasts, heartbreaks, and millions of dull seconds away.
But we made it, we’re on the other side in the slow throes of January.
To start, I have a confession: I didn’t really read until three years ago.
Don’t get me wrong. I love reading. I used to read voraciously as a kid, anything I could get my hands on.
But even though I’ve always been creative and have tried sometimes aimlessly to continue that thread into adulthood, I’ve mostly oriented my life heavily towards utility. Is this a kid-of-immigrants thing? Eldest daughter thing? I don’t know. Maybe just me subconsciously trying to make up for picking the impractical, “useless” degree. (Fashion design.) Or trying to hack my way out of the starving artist trope before I get too deep without a financial net.
Thus: my reading palate was almost entirely made up of wisdom from magnates, girlbosses, and gurus. So I guess technically I read, but almost exclusively business and self-help and productivity books.
And a lot of it worked. I reached max productivity and “hacked” my way into tech and up and up I went, life got good and that was the end of that. Right? Right?
It never felt like enough. I tried every system, played with every tool, deep worked and tidied up. I was still hungry for more, and at a certain point, I began to suspect that I was looking for “more” in the wrong direction.
My first year after quitting the startup world and going freelance, people were baking bread and dancing on TikTok. Everyone was discovering new parts of themselves in the forced container of a pandemic. Streets empty, calendars emptier, and for better or for worse, we explored in both big, life-changing ways and tiny acts of pleasure and resistance, this question: What do you want to do?
Sometimes what we want most when we’re looking for something new is just to rediscover parts of ourselves that are old and buried, dusty under our useful and productive and shiny lives.
I wanted to read more books. It couldn’t have been simpler, or cheaper, or more convenient. (I live next to a public library.)
It felt like a now or never moment. I mean that in the sense that I never made time now because I thought there would always be later. But later so easily became never. There were so many things I wanted to read but they always got pushed down to make room for yet another productivity book that promised a secret I didn’t know, or a trap I wasn’t aware I was in. I had a growing list of topics I wanted to learn about that I never had the time for.
In a year, not having the time for something doesn’t seem like that big of a deal. We all have priorities, busy seasons, times of hustle. But in five or ten? It starts to feel less like a time issue and more like outright avoidance.
I still love the feeling of thinking about the new year as blank slate and all the ways we can dream up to make ourselves better for the next twelve months, casting every failure of the past year aside—but there is also this growing heaviness each year I get older, a fear that I’m going around and around in circles. And it goes into red alert at the beginning of the year when I look at everything I didn’t do.
Every time I feel this I get off my phone, grab a book and read. It’s not just a temporary fix though it does give me a temporary escape. Each book, just like every piece of clothing in my closet, becomes a part of me. Sometimes I learn something. But I’m also transformed in other ways. I feel like I become more possible. I see more clearly what I like. I know more ardently who I am.
For anyone who feels stuck, there are a few things I can recommend, and since I’ve read all the self-help books, I should probably know. Changing your environment, getting fresh air, connecting with someone, taking a break from the endless distraction of social media. Sure, give them all a try.
Or go the January way.
Easy, lazy, no big resolutions, just all-of-the-above in one shot: Read a book. And more specifically, read a book for pleasure, adventure, something, anything. Stop if you don’t like it. There’s so much more out there.
Since 2021, I’ve been reading 100ish books a year every year and just finished 2023 with 107: 46 nonfiction, 29 poetry, 28 fiction, 4 memoir.
Below are my top 10 and a few honourable mentions.
The Beauty of the Husband by Anne Carson (2001) is somewhere between fiction and poetry; the author calls it “a fictional essay in 29 tangos”. The premise/plot: a woman goes through the breakdown of her marriage with absolute vulnerability and honesty, reflecting on his spell over her. I think what I love about it is that it’s very much plot-driven—things happen—but written as a series of poems, it makes use of that medium to full effect, adding density of feeling to a compact experience. I breezed right through it but found myself stopping a lot to digest. I keep thinking about how good this was and how I wish more books dared to be like this.
Grocery List Poems by Rhiannon McGavin (2021) — Sometimes I feel like covers do a really great job at establishing the mood of its contents, but in this case, although it has a beautiful cover, the poetry in this collection seemed to want to burst out of its packaging. It’s hard to describe why these poems struck me so hard. They’re vivid, full of imagery, lush and contemporary. I just loved it.
When My Brother Was an Aztec by Natalie Diaz (2012) — This collection is split up into three distinct sections which are part of a connected narrative exploring family, drug addiction, culture, and myth. It was stark and magical and it pulled me in. Natalie won the Pulitzer Prize in 2021 for her second collection, Postcolonial Love Poem, which I can’t wait to read.
Closer Baby Closer by Savannah Brown (2023) — I consider Savannah’s previous poetry collection, Sweetdark, canon to my poetry education, the first contemporary poet who I happened to come across who did not have a formal literary education and could write with astounding vulnerability and precision. Closer Baby Closer is a tight collection of poems about modern intimacy, and isn’t afraid to play with contemporary fixations. I loved a lot of poetry collections this year but put this one on my list because of a particular poem I just can’t forget: Poet (derogatory).
This is How You Lose the Time War by Amal El-Mohtar and Max Gladstone (2019) — Red and Blue are the names of two time-travelling agents on opposing sides of a war. Think an enemies-into-lovers trope but set inside a sci-fi epic condensed into a novella. One half of the writing duo is a poet—and it shows—but the pacing is brisk, like an action film. So, so good. And apparently being adapted into a television show.
Piranesi by Susanna Clarke (2020) is mysterious and imaginative and if that’s what you’re looking for, I can’t recommend it enough. The narrator lives in a parallel-universe house made up of endless hallways and vestibules, where the top floor is filled with clouds and the bottom floor filled with the tide. You’re trying to figure out who they are and why they’re there. Kind of loopy, but a fantastic read.
The Employees by Olga Ravn (2018) has another strange but interesting premise (I’m sensing a pattern): the entire book is told in employee logs, and the employees in question are humans and humanoids on board a spaceship. I’ve seen this book categorized as psychological horror. There’s definitely a slow-burn thriller-esque vibe as you try to uncover what exactly is going on when a mysterious object shows up on board, interspersed through for-HR-eyes-only complaints that question the meaning of productivity. Imagine that and imagine it written by a poet.
Orwell’s Roses by Rebecca Solnit (2021) follows the author’s research as she studies the life of George Orwell, author of 1984, through his hobby of gardening. This follows a category of literature that has become of my favourites: meandering essays (I call them adventurous) that connect to speak to a greater point. In this case, how art and politics are profoundly shaped by what we find pleasure in and pay attention to.
Wonderworks by Angus Fletcher (2021) is about the history of literature seen through the lens of invention. I loved the premise: literature is so often seen as an art, something that doesn’t really move society forward like technology does, which of course couldn’t be further from the truth. I also loved the execution. You’ll learn so much.
Monsters: A Fan’s Dilemma by Claire Dederer (2023) — This is such a necessary topic to explore: how do we come to terms with loving and appreciating art when we can no longer love and appreciate the artist? The author is honest, vulnerable, and engaging in her approach, even as I got deeper and discovered more monsters that live among us. The ending really stuck with me and kind of blew me wide open.
*Note: I use affiliate links in this newsletter so get a small commission if you purchase any books using my links.
HONOURABLE MENTIONS
POETRY:
Alphabet by Inger Christensen (1981) — Often I feel like I don’t get abstract, experimental poetry and I think I’d consider this that, but the strong imagery and stark language made this so memorable.
Bless the Daughter Raised by a Voice in Her Head by Warsan Shire (2022) — Beyoncé’s favourite poet did not disappoint. Featured in my “review” here.
Dark Sparkler by Amber Tamblyn (2015) — When a celebrity poetry book comes out, a wave of Youtube videos follows with keywords involving some iteration of “terrible celebrity poetry”. Actress, writer, and Substacker
is one exception with this beautiful collection of poems about famous women.The World Keeps Ending, and the World Goes On by Franny Choi (2022) — A collection of dystopian poems, many of which I marked as favourites. Title poem here for a preview.
The Honey Month by Amal El-Mohtar (2010) — Already gave one spot to Amal on this list so her poetry collection shifted here. An absolute treat to read (or gift) for fans of honey and sensual delights.
FICTION:
The Road by Cormac McCarthy (2006) — I was haunted by the movie, and I was haunted by the book.
Mary Ventura and the Ninth Kingdom by Sylvia Plath (1952) — A short story (possibly for children) that will stick with me forever. Only an honourable mention because I don’t know if it technically counts as a book.
Comfort Me With Apples by Catherynne M. Valente (2021) — Like Stepford Wives meets Mother! A thriller novella with a plot twist.
All-Night Pharmacy by Ruth Madievsky (2023) — Wins points for some of the most beautiful prose I’ve ever read in a contemporary, neon-addled setting. About sisters, drug addiction, and the trauma of the past.
Bunny by Mona Awad (2019) — The voice and distinct style of writing in Bunny really makes it come alive. Would describe as Mean Girls meets Jennifer’s Body meets Fight Club set in a MFA program. I’m telling you, it’s a fun time. Warning: also a bit gory, if you can stomach that.
NON-FICTION:
High Heel by (2019) — An ode to the high heel that floats beautifully around mythology, feminism, biology, and history.
Saving Time: Discovering a Life Beyond the Clock by Jenny Odell (2023) — I’d make this required reading for this newsletter if I could (and maybe I will). A “sequel” of sorts to the author’s bestseller, How to Do Nothing. Hopeful and contemplative. More than self-help. More like a deep dive to completely rewire your relationship to the most basic undercurrent of our lives.
How Music Works by David Byrne (2012) — One of those “I want to know more about x topic” recommendations—x in this case being music. I’d also recommend this if you’re interested or involved in the business of anything creative. Dense but easy to read.
The Botany of Desire by Michael Pollan (2001) — I love books that take you through a journey packaged to be easily digested through specific objects. In this case, we explore how intertwined our cultures and economies are with plants, as told through objects 1-4 (apples, tulips, cannabis, and potatoes) and their surprising histories.
Real Estate by Deborah Levy (2021) — My first encounter with Deborah Levy’s “living biographies” and it made me hunger for more.
Stoned: Jewelry, Obsession, and How Desire Shapes the World by Aja Raden (2015) — An entertaining, engaging, and adventurous romp through history with a lens on jewelry and desire. Bonus: Great for learning new facts and trivia to impress people with, if not the size of your rock which you might care way less about after reading this.
Further Reading
I wrote an essay on reading a couple years ago just as I was starting to get back into it. A few snippets as footnotes:
On becoming a better more honest writer:
I learned what grabs my attention, and even more important, what holds it. I've learned to simplify and expand. I learned through reading that I really love rhythm; static words then start to feel a bit more like music. I learned that I love contrast more than I do balance—sharp versus soft, easy-to-read versus enough complexity that it pulls you forward, out, and in. I love a little bit of fantasy, a hint of surrealism, a little bit of magic, but yes I do love it all to feel real and relevant and like a person, not the thing, robot or whatever, you think you should be. I made an active decision about the kind of writing I wanted to write. I decided to honour this: that just because someone writes it, and then someone else writes it, doesn’t make it the truth, just a truth.
On embracing fluff:
I learned that while many disregard certain things as fluff (mostly men on things associated with women), as if it’s a threat to all that is true and real and serious, I quite enjoy fluff. I’m convinced that we need more fluff to get away from the sterile, over-minimalist, monotony of almost everything else out there. Give me a pile of fluff over “the intersection of design and technology”, over “great user experiences”. If to fluff means to “make or become fuller, softer, lighter”, I want that. I want fullness. I want softness. I want to feel light and free again. These are things I discovered about myself through reading.
On reading as a way to get beyond what’s in front of us:
Reading allows us to see what’s possible so that we may write more truthfully according to what speaks to our souls, not simply what we’ve known because it was in front of us, because someone told us so.
On re-branding reading:
When we think of someone who is a reader, especially as children, we make an assumption that maybe they’re smart. Instead, I think someone who likes to read should be assumed to be adventurous. Just think of what could happen if we reposition reading so that it appeals to all the people who believe that things like intellect and IQ and genius are static and that they are not good enough or that it is too late for them to be any of these things, and instead position reading as an adventure anyone can have at any age.
And that ^ is the only reason I put any of this on record here when I could’ve saved myself the embarrassment. I am a reader now. I wasn’t before. I made the time, changed my mind, tried (and kept trying) something new.
Happy 2024! Here’s to poetry, pleasure, and the endless pursuit of the possible.
Guess I wasn’t too late after all.
P.S. I am taking book recommendations!
just finished "The Employees" and i absolutely loved it
Thank you for the mention of Dark Sparkler!