So I’ve been an absentee blogger these last few months, mostly because of Rosewood Confidential, the guide to Pretty Little Liars I’ve been fortunate to write with the v. talented Crissy Calhoun. And I think after 3+ years of blogging I was a little burned out. But I’m not ready to say farewell yet: future posts may be more sporadic, but I hope to still dedicate some time and brainpower to this site, which has, like my garden, given me far more than I remember planting. The end of one year and the beginning of a new one is a natural time for this kind of reflection, and I didn’t want to miss out on sharing some of my end of year highlights. So let’s start there. Here are the books I couldn’t stop talking about, and foisted on as many people as possible (in fact, this post constitutes the ongoing foistage):
Natural Order by Brian Francis: I loved Brian’s first book, Fruit, which was fresh and funny, and created a memorable teen protagonist in Peter Paddington, but Natural Order is just what you’d hope a second novel would be: it’s more mature, more ambitious, and an absolute pleasure to read. The language is rich, it’s filled with humour and pathos, but his most notable achievement is in creating Joyce Sparks, a fiesty, often cantankerous old woman reflecting on her life and her relationship with her deceased son. Her son was gay, and it was something Joyce simply couldn’t face. Having such an intolerant protagonist will likely create a striking dissonance in most readers, as you empathize with Joyce while being horrified by her actions at the same time. This is one of the most moving and meaningful explorations I’ve ever read of what it means to be a mother.
The Art of Fielding by Chad Harbach: This book has gotten a lot of attention this year, and justifiably so. A baseball book that’s not about baseball, it’s the complete package with confident, unobtrusive writing, a swiftly moving plot (I burned through its 600 pages in no time), a cast of characters so real I fretted about them when I wasn’t reading, and rich literary allusions. With a similar setting, tone, and characters, and the same narrative fullness, it’s a John Irving novel without the incest and the bears. Except perhaps even better.
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Friday Night Lights by H.G. Bissinger: Now this is a sports book that is about sports, but it’s also about so much more: about race, gender, class, poverty, education, Texas, and sports fanaticism. It’s about turning teens into heroes, most of whom will never match those few nights of glory under the lights. This was a controversial, inflammatory book when it came out in 1990, giving one of America’s most cherished pastimes (and certainly Texas’s) the expose treatment. But it’s also worth reading because it’s beautifully written, and though critical, still quite balanced.
Related reco (because I can’t resist): Friday Night Lights (TV version), the single best TV show I’ve ever watched. With the best developed and written characters on TV, creative filming, and more heart than you’d think imaginable, this is a great use of 60 or 70 hours of your life. I laughed, I cheered, I raged, and I cried (a ton). In fact, I cried for the last 15 minutes straight of the series finale, because it was so perfect and it was ending. Tami Taylor is my role model for life, and Coach Taylor taught me about much more than football. Because, of course, it’s a show not really about football. I’ve never met more passionate fans than those of FNL, whose hearts always swell when they hear “Clear Eyes, Full Hearts, Can’t Lose.”
Trauma Farm by Brian Brett (2009): I think when I look back on books that changed my life, this will be one of them. It prompted a serious reexamination of where I am, and where I hope to be in a few years. I’ve written 2/3 of a post that goes deeper on this one (I started it on Thanksgiving . . . sigh), but here’s what I wrote about it recommending it for the Advent Book Blog: A memoir distilling 18 years of small farm life into a single day, Trauma Farm is part personal memoir, part natural history, part environmental manifesto, and part poetry, a sort of hymn channeled from the land itself. This modern day Walden is a love story for the land, calling on us to rediscover our relationships with nature, our food, and each other.
Obscure CanLit Mama by Carrie Anne Snyder: Granted, this one is a blog, if by a Canadian fiction writer. I came to it through Kerry Clare (another one of my few cherished blog reads). Apprehensive about motherhood as I am, I never thought I’d find myself reading a blog by a mother of four (with the word “Mama” in the title no less), but Carrie’s posts have become daily reading for me, and because she is a mother, not in spite of it. Because this is a mother who manages to maintain things I value dearly (regular creative output, physical fitness — marathons & triathlons even! — and eco-conscious sustainable living), even while raising four young children. Because her posts take quotidian details and turn them into greater food for thought. Because those posts often value effort and engagement over perfection. Because they’re honest, sincere, warm, hopeful. Because she makes me think about my own goals and values, and the end result is that I always want to be better, to try to achieve even a part of what she achieves in one day, even without the four children. Anyway, her latest book, The Juliet Stories, will be out this spring from House of Anansi, and I can’t wait until the day I can walk into a bookstore and pick it up, for more Carrie goodness and to support someone who has given me a lot without even knowing it.
So farewell, 2011. You were a good year, bringing an abundance of great books, food, friends, love, yoga, and, recently, one adorable kitten. In 2012, hopefully I’ll be around here more often than I have been recently. Hopefully you’ll come ’round too.
