Tag Archives: GoodReads

2017 in Books

Another year, another collection of books.

I missed putting together my 2016 year in books so here’s a quick round up courtesy of my Goodreads account:

  1. I read a lot of Deadpool comics.
  2. I read more women writers.
  3. I read two books of poetry (Czeslaw Milowsz and Leonard Cohen)
  4. I discovered a new (to me) mystery writer and series: Alan Bradley’s Flavia de Luce.
  5. I reread part of the Harry Potter series.
  6. In total I read 61 books, flying past my goal of 50. I credit the comics for a large part of that.

My goals were:

  • I would like to read more female writers. (24/61)
  • I’d also like to read more poetry. Poetry is like cake. It has to be savored. (Mmm, I guess I’m not very partial to cake? I read two books of poetry.)
  • I’d like to continue mining the classics, such as Edith Wharton, Jane Austen, and Charles Dickens. (Henry James, Robertson Davies, L.M. Montgomery, William Faulkner, Edith Wharton, Simone de Beauvoir, and Virginia Woolf all graced my 2016 shelves, so yes, I did that.)
  • I’d like to read more musical biographies/autobiographies. (3 – Patti Smith, Carole King, and Amanda Palmer.)
  • I’d like to read 50 books, surpassing my 44 of this year. (61/50!)

Since I did not have any new goals for 2017, I’m going to take the same lens I used for 2016 to review who and what I read in 2017.

  • I read 40/50 books in 2017. Less comics.
  • 6/40 I did not finish. Some I intend to return to because I own them.
  • 17/40 were written by women.
  • 24/40 were fiction.
  • 2 were classics.
  • 7 were memoirs or autobiographies, but zero were musical.
  • 0 poetry.

Most Notable

Although the memoirs I read were not musical, they were all fascinating in their own right. The one I’ve recommended most of all has been Hillary Rodham Clinton’s What Happened, which was written in a plain, beautiful language that points a lot of fingers and doesn’t fail to provide context to the craziest American election campaign ever.

I learned that if I’m going to review a book on the Internet, take the time to get the writer’s name right. Worst person’s name to mess up? Scaachi Koul, who’s One Day We’ll Be Dead and None of This Will Matter, was awesome. To be fair, I’m not the only one who has messed up her name. She’s even written about it on Buzzfeed.

I was loaned a copy of The Fifth Sacred Thing by Starhawk and I zipped through those 600+ pages of that post-apocalyptic utopian egrarian matriarchal universe and then wished it really did exist. Except for the part where there’s still societies that want to take all of that away.

Russell Brand’s Revolution is a great read, but he spoke to exactly one female expert. His entire thesis is based on the ideas of male thinkers and I think there’s a serious flaw in that. I like the idea that revolution can come from love, but how can you conceive of that idea and then completely ignore an entire section of humanity that bases almost all of their life choices on love? I mean, hello!

Finally, I think this thought that I tweeted out a few days ago sums up my experience of 2017 best:

To that end, I’m making a few new challenges for 2018.

2018 Reading Goals

  1. Read 50 books.
  2. Only women.
  3. Half pre-2000, half-post.
  4. Review them on the Punnery.

We’ll see how well this goes! Happy 2018, everyone! Wishing you all happiness, health, success, and joy, plus some time to read 🙂

Previous years: 2015, 2014, 2013, 2012

Advertisements

Book Review: Born a Crime by Trevor Noah

born a crime trevor noahTrevor Noah’s unlikely path from apartheid South Africa to the desk of The Daily Show began with a criminal act: his birth. Trevor was born to a white Swiss father and a black Xhosa mother at a time when such a union was punishable by five years in prison. Living proof of his parents’ indiscretion, Trevor was kept mostly indoors for the earliest years of his life, bound by the extreme and often absurd measures his mother took to hide him from a government that could, at any moment, steal him away. Finally liberated by the end of South Africa’s tyrannical white rule, Trevor and his mother set forth on a grand adventure, living openly and freely and embracing the opportunities won by a centuries-long struggle. –-penguinrandomhouse.com

I have to keep reminding myself that this memoir is written by someone the same age as me. Born in 1984, Trevor Noah’s only a year older than me. I’ve never read a memoir written by contemporary before. I guess I’d better get used to it because now is the time when these things start happening. We’re all old enough now to have a few stories under our belt.

Hell, I’ve filled the Punnery with enough stories now that I’m beginning to revisit them, picking through them to see what I can elaborate on, turn into bigger and better things. Much like this memoir. Many of the stories in Born a Crime started off as jokes in Trevor’s stand-up act, like recounting the tail of feeling like “a bag of weed” whenever his parents walked past police because his father would cross the street and his mother would drop his hand.

Trevor and I were listening to Montel Jordan at the same time together. I, too, wanted to wear a ankle-length leather duster like Neo from The Matrix. We were both set free by the Internet. He sold bootleg CDs. I learned how to build websites so I could write whatever, where ever, I wanted.

While he was running through the streets of Johannesburg, I was living in Toronto with my family, completely unaware of what life might be like in post-apartheid South Africa. I knew it existed, but had no idea what it was.

In 1998, when I was about twelve years old, Nelson Mandela visited Toronto. My class went to the Skydome to hear him speak. I don’t remember a single thing about that trip, other than I know I was there.

I didn’t know what the hell apartheid really was as twelve year old sitting in the nosebleed section of the Skydome, watching a golf cart inch through the crowds on the astroturf below. Much like the end of Communism it was messy and confusing and it left a vaccuum in its wake that created chaos. That’s what Trevor Noah lived in, while I lived in Canada. While I was in Canada, watching Nelson Mandela speak on a Jumbotron, my family in Poland was dealing with the economic fall-out of post-Communist life in Poland.

I’ve already mentioned this part of the book:

“People love to say, “Give a man a fish, and he’ll eat for a day. Teach a man to fish, and he’ll eat for a lifetime.” What they don’t say is, “And it would be nice if you gave him a fishing rod.” That’s the part of the analogy that’s missing.”

I often wonder what would have happened if my family stayed in Poland. My father’s love of language likely would have still been passed on to me and my sister and my curiousity for the world would have likely led me to move to England, like thousands of other Poles my generation. Brexit would have a bigger impact in my life. Instead I am here in Canada. Would I have received the same fishing poles in that life? Impossible to tell because that life doesn’t exist. And as someone quite recently told me, our souls learn things in the time that they are given to us. We can’t speculate on what could have been done differently, because it’s all been done as it should have been done. And I value the fishing poles I’ve already been given in my life.

I highly recommend this book for anyone interested in learning about life in South Africa post-apartheid, in the nineties and early oughts.

Book Review: A Thread of Grace by Mary Doria Russell

A Thread of GraceA Thread of Grace by Mary Doria Russell

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

When I first started reading this book, I was not expecting much. I picked it up randomly from my bookshelf after finishing WHAT WAS SHE THINKING? NOTES ON A SCANDAL, which I loved. The prose in this book was lovely, just lovely. The author used a combination of Italian and German phrases throughout the novel to emphasize the setting and the personalities of the characters. Cracking open the book I was surprised and somewhat disheartened to see a cast of characters as one of the first pages. Being a person who normally has quite a few books on the go, I knew that I would be frequently referencing back to the list as I would rarely remember who is who. I was surprised to find that I only looked back once or twice. Each character is so distinct–even when they’re playing a “double role”!–that they were easy to remember.

It’s a sad book. There are no winners in it, much like there weren’t any during the war. While the setting and characters are fictional, the author’s dedication to historical detail, her beautiful, easy prose, and the complex, characters that she creates–characters that you really mourn when they die–all of these factors coalesce into a really outstanding book about Jewish/Italian resistance in Italy during World War II. Can’t recommend it enough, but, fair warning, it will make you want to cry.