11 Books I Read in April
The title sounds better than the actual reading results of April, as five of the books I finished were small Penguin Moderns. Then again, I read two books of 400+ pages, so it evens out.
1. Gio-Graphy: Serious Fun in the Wild World of Fasion by Giovanna Battaglia. I’m not a huge fan of style books, I think fashion and clothes can be better explored via other mediums. I am, however, a fan of Giovanna’s style and fortunately, her spirit is preserved in this colourful tome. Not a necessity, but a nice, visually appealing read.
2. Little Fires Everywhere by Celeste Ng. Little Fires was a big publishing successes last year and now that I’ve read it, it makes total sense. It is one of those “everything looks perfect on the surface, but is it?” books and has family drama, secrets and lies. I started off being rather sceptical, as I often find this type of novel somewhat cheap and manipulative, but Ng does her job well and I was won over. It’s gripping and well written and has substance, too.
3. Pachinko by Min Jin Lee. This family saga that takes place in Korea and Japan in the last century seems to be pretty universally loved. I liked it, but didn’t love it as much as I thought I would. Maybe because the topic of the treatment of Koreans in Japan (largely horrible) wasn’t entirely unfamiliar for me. Or maybe the style was slightly too traditional. Still, it’s a good and enlightening read.
4. The Stone Sky by N.K. Jemisin. The last instalment of Jemisin’s The Broken Earth series was my favourite read of the month. I’ve already written a long and rambly post on why exactly.
5. Rosie: Scenes From a Vanished Life by Rose Tremain. Rose Tremain’s memoir features a British upper class childhood, complete with country houses, servants, emotionally distant parents and boarding schools. I used to love this kind of stuff, but this turned out to be my least favourite read in April. All that privilege and the self-inflicted problems struck the wrong note with me. Not a bad book, but it annoying.
6. How to Break Up with Your Phone by Catherine Price. I’m suspicious of self-help books, but I liked this one. It’s realistic and balanced and I think can be genuinely helpful when you try to set some boundaries to your tech use. I’m planning to give her approach a go once the super busy weeks in the office are over.
7. The Master’s Tools Will Never Dismantle the Master’s House by Audre Lorde. Lorde is a black feminist whose texts from late 70s and early 80s feel unbelievably current. The essays are dense and intense and demand focus – partly because some of her concepts aren’t necessarily familiar to the reader; at least they weren’t for me. I hate the phrase “thought-provoking”, but this is what reading Lorde was for me (or maybe in her case, I should say “feeling-provoking”).
8. Notes on Camp by Susan Sontag. That was in fact a reread, as I remember reading this classic essay for a University course. It’s still insightful and fun.
9. The Custard Heart by Dorothy Parker. Three rather dark short stories from Parker that focus on women and what today would be called mental health. I think her specific genius works better in poems and epigrams, but the stories are good and well worth reading.
10. Why I Am Not Going to Buy a Computer by Wendell Berry. Actually, maybe my least favourite read was this one. It’s a polemic (in two parts) against unnecessary technology and in favour of simpler life. I admit I just don’t agree with much of this (although others might find it prophetic) and also thought Berry’s argumentation was full of holes.
11. New York in 1979 by Kathy Acker. This was a very interesting read. Acker isn’t a writer I’d naturally gravitate towards, she documents the harsh underworld of prostitutes, addicts and outcasts. She’s also experimental with her style, which fits her themes very well, but doesn’t make for easy reading. This is exactly why I like Penguin Moderns – it gives me a glimpse of writers whom I would otherwise maybe not discover or wouldn’t necessarily want to spend days reading. But 50 small pages I can do and they’ll broaden my horizons.
What about you? Any big favourites or disappointments recently?
I also read Pachinko and Little Fires Everywhere this month 🙂 Snap! Had a lot of hopes for Pachinko but didnt deliver I think because she didn’t explore the themes in any great depth. Also too many characters. I didn’t connect to any of them. Loved Little Fires Everywhere. Also rereading In Cold Blood (Truman Capote) which is just brilliant.
Thank you so much for this comment! I feel much better now🙂 And what you say relates very much to what I meant (but didn’t articulate very well): it’s a very traditional story in the sense that it just tells you what happens to a large cast of characters over a long period of time. And I think if the historical aspect is new to you, this will compensate for the lack of depth. But if it isn’t or one is more interested in psychology rather than the flow of history, the book might feel too shallow.
Aren’t the Penguin Moderns the best? Is it shallow of me to say they fit perfectly in just about any handbag? There are several in the series that to be honest I’ve completely overlooked until now. I’ve been reading James Baldwin’s “Dark Days.”
The size is a perfectly reasonable argument in their favour. I carry several around with me, for different moods, and I love it.
I just finished reading the Children of Jocasta by Natalie Haynes. It’s a rewrite of Oedipus and also Antigone from the female perspective by a former classicist and comedian. I admit that I started reading it because the writer points out that in the original text of Oedipus, Jocasta (his wife and mother) only has 120 paltry lines and this was her attempt to redress the wrong. I felt indignant and I thought it would be the literary equivalent of kale – wholesome and virtuous. What I wasn’t suspecting is to find it alternately gripping and touching. For me it was reworking of what Tragedy is and can be.
Thank you for mentioning this, I had not heard of Children of Jocasta. What I do have on my list, however, is Madeline Miller’s Circe, another rebalancing of Greek mythology from female perspective.
I just finished Circe and I’ll be interested to know what you think.