11 More Books I Read in 2024

The second half of my annual reading catch-up article to keep you updated on all the novels I've enjoyed

You know how some reality/competition TV shows (like American Idol, Big Brother, or Survivor) have “redemption seasons”? In about August, I decided that this half-year was going to be this newsletter’s version of that. In Hollywood they seem to do those because they don’t have to retrain another throng of laymen to behave in front of the camera, but also because the audience has some basic level of familiarity with the cast going in. Here, I’ve used the second half of the year to clean out my bookcase of books that I started and enjoyed, but had other things that got in the way. This may or may not also be a decision spurred on by my ereader suddenly breaking down and the “upgrade” that I got failing to meet the same standards. That means that this will be the first time in a long time that the majority of the material I’m reading is printed in physical form. Generally speaking I do prefer the written word to be on printed paper, but price and accessibility became two insurmountable hills in college, and I adapted. That’s right, I’m back to risking my life and limb for this blog, bravely putting my fingers in danger of papercuts. Don’t say I’ve never done anything for you. 

1. Strip Tease by Carl Hiaasen 

   1. I actually ended up reading two of Hiaasen’s books by the time I began writing this article. The other was Skinny Dip, which I also enjoyed, but not as much as this one. There’s also a tv adaptation of Bad Monkey floating around starring Vince Vaughn which looks okay, but I’m too big a fan of Hiaasen’s prose to cheat myself out of another few hundred pages of reading. That being said, I did end up watching Demi Moore’s movie version of this from the ‘90s, which was pretty good. This novel has a few more gears all spinning at the same time, and the tension of not knowing which plot line will catch up to the antagonist first makes for a more tense atmosphere. In Skinny Dip, the issue is whether the protagonist will be able to pull off her and her saviors’ singular plot. It’s not a huge difference narratively, but it makes the atmosphere all the more compelling. There’s a nod to the Columbo-ness of the latter that I also appreciated. I don’t have much more to say about it than the last time I wrote about his novels, but I do plan to continue working my way through his bibliography in my own time. If there’s interest I could always write a larger piece on his work once I’m finished with a few more, but if not I’m content to leave it to my own personal time. 

2. Gormenghast by Mervyn Peake

   1. I started this series years ago and thought the world-building was fantastic. It starts out with a miscellany of vivid scenes from feudal life in a massive castle; kitchens, bedrooms, secret passages and grand halls all establish a dark and moody tone for the novel’s setting. Unfortunately, things only get worse from there. I feel like I happened to put this book down at the right time when I last began to read Titus Groan to avoid getting a bad taste in my mouth, because it’s around that point that the plot begins to take form, and for the most part readers will be much happier flipping through the medieval legends that it’s based on. There are surface layers in the first few chapters that could have made for a Kafkaesque examination of the bureaucratic elements of the so-called middle ages and how they work in a castle setting, but instead he abandons those promising passages for a generally boilerplate “chosen heir” sort of narrative. It could be that I’ve grown sick of this because it’s been repeated so many times between its publication and now, but either way I don’t intend to finish the series.  

3. My Brilliant Friend by Elena Ferrante

   1. The same person who pushed me to look into Gene Wolfe’s novels spoke very highly of the Neapolitan Novels. When I first picked up My Brilliant Friend, I had taken it as a sort of swan song comedy, sort of like the synopsis of that Thelma movie that came out earlier this year. Given the wildly different content of that opening chapter I don’t blame myself too harshly for jumping to that conclusion, but I’m glad I went back and gave this a second shot. I’ll fully admit to stretching the definition of “classical content in fiction novels” to meet the criteria for the book reviews that I’ve done, but there was a legitimate argument to be made that this could have featured in the main section of this newsletter on its own. Class distinctions are incredibly simple in modern American society, with the only major factors being ethnicity and wealth. In other parts of the world, namely India, birth alone determines one’s caste. The Roman system offered a little more of an opportunity to move around the social ladder than the latter system, but with more distinct categories than the former. Lenu and Lila were among the first generation of Italians to be born under a republic, and therefore under a system with no real social order whatsoever. The crux to comprehending one of the major thematic elements present in the story is shown to us via a metaphor through the Roman caste system, and I feel like there is a solid few paragraphs of information about “reception” (as all academics like to say) in analyzing My Brilliant Friend. Completing the rest of the series may be beyond my capabilities, especially with the allure of the TV show that’s three seasons in. If I’d chosen Italian over German all those years ago, I’d probably let this overtake Duolingo, but if I’m going to experience the story through someone else’s eyes then it might as well be on the television.