My Favorites of the 2010s
So in my last entry I mentioned I haven’t really completed any writing projects since I wrote my masters’ thesis back in 2010. Which is now ten years ago. Which, by itself, is a little horrifying — the idea that a decade has passed, not that I haven’t finished anything. This is not quite true, after all. I had an article published based on my thesis in a small academic journal, and published two articles on Minnopedia based on other papers I wrote during my masters program. It’s a goal for me to publish another one this year.
In addition, I kept up an intermittent schedule on a few other book blogs, Reading Rainstorm on Booklikes and, later, on Wordpress. As can be seen, I often struggle to make my mind up on a platform and have kept on dropping things only to start up again someplace else, unsure where to focus my attention. What, after all, is the purpose of this? Certainly not because I’m aspiring for a lot of people to read this. Just a writing exercise, really, an excuse to read more books, of course, and, it has to be mentioned, a way for me to reflect upon myself. Aren’t all reviews really autobiography?
Over the years, I have reflected on this as I look through my Goodreads reviews, considering why I chose a specific work, how it relates to my life at the time. Would my attitude have been different had I read it at a different time? Last year, I realized that for many of them I was unable to recall my full thoughts, so I thought I would write something for each book I read to collect more of my impressions. I do find that, if you read enough books, they begin to connect and merge with each other, and with the world you are living in, in strange ways (even if you’re not setting out to theme read).
It’s definitely been a hectic and ominous decade and this is reflected in what I chose to read, I think. Guess this is really just a long winded attempt to segue into my list for the most interesting books of the 2010s. So here are my choices!
In my fiction, I remain fascinated by the fuzzy boundaries between reality and fantasy. I wonder if this could be called “magic realism?” I need to study the term. In the short stories of Karen Russell, George Saunders, and Etgar Keret, the everyday and the bizarre interact in a wonderfully evocative way. I feel that these works, Orange World and Other Stories (2019), Tenth of December (2013), and Suddenly, a Knock on the Door (2012), are the best of each author’s work that I have read so far. I can definitely say that they are an influence on my attempts at fiction so far.
John Darnielle’s first novel, Wolf in White Van (2014) is dark and vibrant, and Darnielle slowly unravels the tragedies and joys of his characters carries the emotional weight of his lyrics. The way we explore Sean Philips narration as he reflects upon it, not fully understanding it himself, felt very real to me. Nestled in the labyrinth of Sean’s play by mail pen and paper post apocalyptic role playing games, we too follow thoughts about the inexplicableness of our lives and the ways we can escape through the vastness of our own imaginations.
The works of H.P. Lovecraft have seen in recent years both a peak of popularity (seems like there’s ten Cthulhu Mythos video games being released every year) as well as a long delayed reckoning of the author’s virulent and horrifying racism. I feel that his work still resonates with people today as we continue to deal with worries of an uncaring universe but also become more connected to people from all backgrounds, so the novels coming out to subvert and comment on Lovecraft’s awful personality as well as his innovate horror are very interesting to me. Of all that I read, my favorite was definitely The Night Ocean (2017) by Paul La Farge. Exploring the relationship between Lovecraft and Robert Barlow, winding through time and perspective, this was a gripping novel full of twists and turns. I will spend more time on this topic and discuss other Lovecraft subversions in another entry.
At the same time, I was also drawn to worlds depicted in stark realism, especially those that depict issues that resonated with the “millennial” moment and the mix insecurity and concerns about late stage capitalism. I Hate the Internet (2016) by Jarett Kobek was a particularly effective and hilarious examination of the internet and the effects, good and bad, it has had on society. Tao Lin’s Taipei (2014) was bleak and steeped in an existential horror. Something in Lin’s writing here captures the essence of the 2010s in all it’s weirdness and lack of certainty.
Severance (2018) by Ling Ma merges this existential horror of everyday life with an actual apocalyptic plague in a really cool way. Ma makes the juxtaposition between her themes of millennial ennui, the immigrant experience, labor, and a deteriorating environment of office worker Candace Chen’s past and her present as a survivor of the zombie plague complement each other perfectly. It may be my choice for the best novel of the 2010s I read.
Speaking of the apocalypse, the uncertainty of the decade definitely conditioned me to be interested in books, fiction and non-fiction alike, that discuss the future and where things could go. Things tend to go bleak fast. From the entrancing Station Eleven (2014) by Emily St. John Mandel, with its themes of resilience in the face of a global catastrophe, to the speculative nonfiction history of how our current time will be looked back at from a few hundred years in the future after the collapse of the “Penumbral Age” in Collapse of Western Civilization: A View from the Future (2014) by Naomi Oreskes and Erik M. Conway, I kept coming back to these themes of the end of the world as we know it. Joni Tevis’ fascinating collection of essays on this topic in The World is On Fire: Scrap, Treasure, and Songs of the Apocalypse (2015) were especially intriguing, as she explores the overlaying theme of the end of the world, whether through atomic fire or the loss of a job, faith and life, a book I think I could read again and again, learning new things every time. When it comes to climate change in particular, Amitav Ghosh’s The Great Derangement: Climate Change and the Unthinkable (2019) was a wonderful exploration of how fiction can tackle these frightening subjects. I will definitely be returning to the theme of apocalyptic reading in future installments of Harris’ Tome Corner.
Also, especially in non-fiction, I began reading a lot more political works to get a better idea of what is happening in our world and what we can do about it to perhaps avert some of the more horrifying fates I read about in fiction. Of the works struggling to come to terms with the result of the horrifying election of 2016, Strangers in Their Own Land: Anger and Mourning on the American Right (2016) by Arlie Russell Hochschild, I think, was the most useful and informative. Evicted: Poverty and Profit in the American City (2016) by Matthew Desmond was a heart rending and deeply researched account of the ongoing housing crisis, one that really moved me. White Fragility: Why It’s so Hard for White People to Talk about Racism (2018) by Robin DiAngelo is indispensable reading for all white Americans (including, and perhaps especially, those of us who consider ourselves “progressive” and “racially tolerant) interested in confronting our own biases. A Good Time for the Truth: Race in Minnesota (2016), a collection of essays from writers of color living in Minnesota illustrates the persistence of racism in our culture as well, and like everywhere in the United States, racism is a legacy that Minnesota needs to face. The authors included here present a great, and sobering, introduction. Confronting racism and political inequality are also themes I will continue to explore.
On a less sobering note, I had a lot of fun starting some homebrewing the last few years and Brew Better Beer (2015) by Emma Christensen was a great place to start, I think, including all the information you need to get started. It was nice that the recipes were given for making just one gallon of beer in addition to five gallons, so you can experiment more. Also a lot more doable when brewing in a cramped apartment, which was the case for me for most of the decade.
It’s been weird being out of out of school for the first time this decade, so I found myself drawn to depictions of the academic life as well, especially since I often found myself continuing my work in academic environments. Julie Schumacker’s Dear Committee Members (2014) was a masterful farce skewering the current moment in academic, told through the correspondence of a supremely grumpy boomer English professor, Jason Fitger. An effective use of the epistolary form, Schumacher writes with a deft pen, granting the egotistic professor with a pathos that makes him feel sympathetic, even when he is a complete asshole. I could relate to his environment, if not his sarcastic personality, though his wit and venom certainly led to some laugh out loud funny moments.
After completing my thesis paper in 2010 after much feverish study and obsession, I have tried to keep up to date on the topic of my thesis, Minnesota’s kitschy road side attraction with a dark side, the Kensington Runestone. I feel that David M. Krueger’s work on the topic in Myths of the Rune Stone: Viking Martyrs and the Birthplace of America (2015) was, in many ways, the most comprehensive and well researched on the rune story published so far and it really brought me back to my masters program. It was very interesting to see Krueger touch on some of the topics I noticed in my research, only to expand on them far more broadly and strongly than I attempted. In particular, his chapters on the unstated but implied presence of indigenous people in the narrative and strong attraction it had for Catholic Americans was very informative.
To be honest, I don’t read much poetry, which is unfortunate, perhaps. When I do read it, I’m often deeply drawn into the language, on occasion feeling that this medium of sharing emotions, impressions, thoughts, may be ideal for what I would try to do with my writing. Wilder: Poems (2018), by Claire Wahmanholm was among the most affecting collections of poetry that I’ve read. Ominous, beautiful, and mysterious, Wahmanholm’s words evoke the cycles of the natural world, as well as a kind of post apocalyptic imagery that resonates in today’s climate. I only wish I had more of a toolkit to parse what I found so effective in her writing and how poetry can be so uniquely suited for this.
I really got into comics more than ever in the 2010s. I feel that graphic novels, memoir comics in particular, are a very powerful way to draw a reader into the life of the artist in a way that feels natural and opens up many interesting ways to evoke feelings. I’ve enjoyed all of Julia Wertz’ autobiographical comics, finding them hilarious and heartfelt, but her latest work Tenements, Towers, and Trash: An Unconventional Illustrated History of New York City (2017), engaging, snarky, and informal, packed full of her learned opinions and intricate, meticulous recreations of city street scenes was my favorite. Dragon’s Breath: And Other True Stories (2014) by MariNaomi, was also a really effective memoir comic, I really love her abstract but expressive art style.
Gabrielle Bell’s work is also very inspiring to me, with her autobiographical diary comics Truth is Fragmentary: Travelogues and Diaries (2014) being my top choice. Most published online from 2010–2013, Bell wrestles with the contradictions of being a very private person who blogs and publishes very personal journals, reflecting that the internet can be a contradictory place.
Speaking of the internet, webcomics continued to really expand the comics field, I think. It’s also nice that they are accessible to people who share the weird obsessions I have. Hark! a Vagrant (2011), by Kate Beaton is full of hilariously obscure historical and literary jokes, making it right up my alley. I have been finding the work of Michael DeForge to be among the most idiosyncratic comics I’ve seen, and it’s really cool to see how versatile his artistic talents are while maintaining a distinctive style. I’ve read all of deForge’s published work so far, and Leaving Richard’s Valley (2019), a collection of webcomics he put out was, I think, his most innovative and heartfelt so far. Posting it one panel at a time on Instagram, it was really impressive that this was a daily strip. I loved it!
Comics are an ideal medium for fantastic and mundane stories alike, I feel, able to express ideas and stories in so many different ways. Jillian Tamaki’s collection Boundless (2017), for instance, really showcases her ability to convey humor and pathos, the surreal, and the mundane, with equal strength, focusing in particular on the relation between people and technology, especially social media, and how this shapes and creates our reality, our emotions, and our thoughts about others. Through the Woods (2014) by Emily Carroll is a great comic delving into the ambiance of the dark fairy tale, empowering her work with a grim folkloric dread worthy of the best as young characters encounter strange and horrible things in the woods, in palaces, or even at home. Sabrina (2018) by Nick Drnaso was a spare, cryptic work, with Drnaso’s muted colors and rigid use of panels helping in conveying this feeling of banality, of the everyday spaces (townhomes, cubicles, parks) that we spend our lives in, along with that feeling that something isn’t right so common to our contemporary life. One of the most affecting graphic novels collections I’ve read, the stand alone stories in Beta Testing the Apocalypse (2013) by Tom Kaczynski are linked by common threads and themes of modern human existence in the urban world and elements of the sciences, history, architecture, and cosmic dread.
Finally, comics are well suited to nonfiction as well, and one of the most important I read was, in my opinion, Archie Bongiovanni and Tristan Jimerson’s A Quick and Easy Guide to They/Them Pronouns (2018), a truly quick and easy guide to gender neutral pronouns and how to use them in today’s society in convenient comic format. Concise and compact, this is a great introduction to the topic of genderqueer identity and why pronouns matter.
Okay, was that too many? I read a lot of books over the last decade, and it might feel that I went on and on this time, but it was difficult to choose just ten each of all of the great fiction, non-fiction, and comics I read.