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A year in reading: 2025
In reverse chronological order:
- Susan Daitch: The Adjudicator (May 26)
“The Adjudicator” is set in a future where babies are genetically engineered to meet
parents’ specifications, and governments outsorce the procedures to private companies. In
this future, traditional birth process is obsolete. Zedi Loew, an adjudicator for
Pangenica Inc., handles rare cases where things go wrong. When she receives a mysterious
(printed!) file about two children (one malicious, the other possibly driven to suicide),
she is drawn into a complex investigation involving a missing mother, suspected genetic
cross-contamination, and various Pangenica employees with criminal past. Two things stand
out here this novel: it’s even more immersive than her previous book through the use of
illustrations and QR codes which link to GIFs and YouTube videos, and it’s packed with
facts about genetics and its relationship with consciousness and identity. A rewarding
read and my type of book.
- Dag Solstad: Armand V. (May 24)
“Armand V.” is Solstad’s most experimental novel, whose entirety consists of footnotes to
an “unexcavated novel.” Readers can’t help but speculate about the actual, unseen novel
whose footnotes they’re reading. Sometimes it feels too surreal for my taste, and at times
it foregrounds the writing process too much as an “I” appears and explains about both the
unseen novel and its footnotes. And yet, it’s a political novel about Armand V., the
Norwegian ambassador to the UK, who is in his deepest heart against Western intervention
and foreign wars. His situation is becoming more tragic as his son, who joins the
Norwegian SAS, comes back blind. With this, I have now completed all of Solstad’s novels
which have been translated into English and I must say that Armand V., while still shows
depth and bleakness, is not for everybody.
- Dag Solstad: T. Singer (T Singer) (May 21)
The blurb is true: The novel’s material is boring and the scenes are banal, but Solstad’s
story telling is hypnotic. Singer is a person who “squandered his life by observing it,
and all the while time passed and his youth did too.” He lives with his wife Merete and
stepdaughter Isabella and works as a librarian in Notodden. A day after agreeing to get a
divorce, Merete dies in an accident and Singer moves to Oslo with Isabella. While the
novel is filled with several unusual episodes and motifs, the highlight is the contrast
between Singer and Isabella: one is fast approaching fifty while the other is stretching
out slowly towards her own youth. This novel makes me think that there is art and depth
(and so, hope) even in a banal existence or largely simple life.
- Dag Solstad: Professor Andersens natt (Professor Andersen’s Night) (May 18)
Another novel from Solstad which concerns self-analysis. Professor
Andersen, alone during Christmas Eve, looks out of the window and sees a
man strangle a woman in the apartment across the street. He fails to
report the crime and now has to solve this mystery of his inability to
turn in the murderer. The various scenes in the novel, from the dinner
party of the fifty-somethings, conversation in the ski lodge, and a
sushi meal with the murderer himself, add to the uncertainty of the
situation. During the final third of the story, the novel becomes
unbearably heavy as the professor finds a way out (intellectually) of
his crushing guilt. So no, this is not a thriller, but another of
Solstad’s vehicle to present his sharp analysis of end-of-millenium
condition (including the roles of literature and humanities and
generational conformity).
- Dag Solstad: Ellevte roman, bok atten (Novel 11, Book 18) (May 17)
“Novel 11, Book 18” is about Bjørn Hansen, a man whose actions and
choices don’t seem rational. He left his wife and two-year old son for
another woman, resigned from his secure job as a ministry officer to
become small town treasurer, and as a final twist, engaged in a life
project he called (absolute) Negation. The title says it all. This is a
person who wants the intensity and suspense that he can usually observe
with fascination, but without fully understanding, in art and
literature. Only when his life resembles, or rather becomes, a novel,
will Bjørn Hansen be satisfied. Not as well-constructed as “Shyness and
Dignity,” but well worth reading.
- Dag Solstad: Genanse og verdighet (Shyness and Dignity) (May 15)
Elias Rukla is a quiet mannered Norwegian secondary school teacher who
hasn’t distinguished himself in any way whatsoever in his life, an
average, socially oriented Norwegian citizen who read his news, has his
thoughts, and goes to his job at Fagerborg Secondary School every day.
One day he explodes in public after a frustrating lesson about Ibsen in
his class. It’s a minor outburst, but for him, his life will never be
the same again. The story then jumps back to Rukla’s student days and
drifts back to the present, and we get a complete picture of his shy and
dignified but passive life. He formed friendship with Johan and his wife
Eva, whom Elias married after Johan left her. Solstad then presents a
social and political analysis of contemporary Norwegian mediocrity (in a
well written narrative, of course) and its impacts on people like Rukla.
In its one of most poignant moments, the novel shows what Rukla misses
the most: having someone he can carry on a conversation with. A first
class novel.
- Michel Butor: L’Emploi du temps (Passing Time) (May 12)
“Passing Time” is a diary-style novel chronicling five months in the
life of Jacques Revel, a Frenchman working as a translator in the
fictional English city of Bleston (based on Manchester). Isolated and
discontented with his dreary surroundings, Revel begins to document his
days, uncovering both the city’s physical and mythic layers. As Revel
forms several relationship with other Bleston natives (and a fellow
Frenchman Lucien Blaise), the story becomes a complex interplay between
fiction and reality, especially as he engages with a detective novel
whose (fictional) events echo real ones. Many people praise this novel,
and I can see why, but it’s a book that should be appreciated for its
rich language and not for the plot.
- Laurence Cossé: Au bon roman (A Novel Bookstore) (May 7)
The novel (set in Paris, naturally) tells the story of Van and
Francesca, who open “The Good Novel,” a literature-oriented bookstore.
The store offers select masterpieces chosen by a top-secret committee.
But after the initial success, both the owners and the secret selection
committee become targets of editorial attacks and even threats of
murder. I didn’t care too much for the love-triangle strand of the story
involving Van, Francesca, and Anis, but I appreciate the deep and rich
bookstore lore the novel explores. Unlike other books about bookshops
that evoke nostalgia and a feel-good attitude in readers, the novel
emphasizes the daily operation (and the joy and pain) of running a
bookstore, and its ultimate worth is the reading list it generates.
- Richard Powers: The Overstory (May 5)
“The Overstory” follows nine characters whose lives are connected with
trees: Nick Hoel preserves his family's history through photos of a lone
chestnut, Mimi Ma connects her father’s mulberry tree to heritage, Adam
Appich, whose father planted a maple tree when he was born, becomes
environmental activist and confronts human irrationality, Ray Brinkman
and Dorothy Cazaly’s faltering marriage is mirrored by environmental
collapse, Vietnam veteran Douglas Pavlicek sees through reforestation’s
corporate fraud, Neelay Mehta, incorporates ecological ideas into his
virtual worlds, Patty Westerford’s research on tree communication is
embraced, and Olivia Vandergriff abandons her studies for direct action
after a near-death experience. Powers portrays
trees not as sentient agents and calls attention the danger of
indifference towards them.
- Nicholson Baker: The Anthologist (May 4)
Paul Chowder is, by his own admission, “a study in failure.” He is a
struggling poet tasked with writing an introduction to a poetry
anthology titled “Only Rhyme.” Well, the novel is about his inability to
write the introduction and the resulting breakup with his 8-year long
partner Roz. Chowder writes about the why and how he cannot write the
introduction, and in the process spills forth the wisdom of twenty years
of reading and writing poetry, talking about poetic devices (iambic
pentameters are triplets!) and poets and their illnesses. We can’t help
but learn far more about poets and poetry from this novel than we have
learned from teachers. (And this is coming from a teacher!)
- J G Ballard: Running Wild (May 2)
On the morning of 25 June 1988 the 32 adult residents of an exclusive
estate in West London are brutally murdered, and their 13 children
abducted (or so the police thought). However, Dr Richard Greville,
Deputy Psychiatric Adviser to the London Metropolitan Police has
alternative theory, one that the public refuses to accept: Did the
children massacre their own parents? “Running Wild” is more than a
murder mystery. It’s also a critique of a society obsessed with control
(the estate is heavily secured and CCTV-monitored), wealth (all parents
are dual-income professionals who outsource parenting to
nannies/tutors/therapists), safety and moral rectitude (leading to
psychological repressions). Who’s to blame, then? Ballard doesn’t name
her, but the answer is obvious: Margaret Thatcher. Highly recommended
for its powerful story and beautiful illustrations by Janet Woolley.
- Italo Calvino: Il cavaliere inesistente (The Nonexistent Knight) (April 29)
Set in the 8th century, “The Nonexistent Knight” tells the story of
Charlemagne’s knight Agilulf, who is literally an empty suit of armour.
Another knight, the Amazon Bramadante, is in love with Agilulf since he
is the only man who is up to her standards. Raimbaud, a novice knight,
idolizes Agilulf and is in love with Bramadante. This convoluted love
triangle is even more complicated by other characters such as Agilulf’s
squire Gurduloo who’s not sure of his existence, and Torrismund, a
warrior on a quest to find the Knights of the Holy Grail who challenges
Agilulf’s legitimacy of knighthood, resulting in a fun and entertaining
story about the search of being and existence.
- Bernardo Atxaga: Soinujolearen semea (The Accordionist’s Son) (April 28)
Today I learned that accordion can play not only Cajun blues, but also
classical music (search Teodoro Anzellotti on YouTube). Bernardo
Atxaga’s “The Accordionist’s Son” follows David Imaz, who grows up
between a Basque village and his uncle’s ranch, pressured by his
authoritarian father to carry on the tradition of accordion playing.
Atxaga uses David’s reluctant relationship with tradition to explore how
the Spanish Civil War’s aftermath continues to shape individual lives.
Atxaga’s use of large cast (Basque nationalists, the fascists as the
villains, young generation of the Basque country, and foreign elements)
intensifies his exploration of memory and evokes friendship, love, and
happiness.
- Filippo Bologna: I Pappagalli (The Parrots) (April 26)
Just like the cover says, “The Parrot” is a fine satire of literary
vanity which tells the story of three authors competing for The Literary
Prize. The Master is an old, washed up poet with nothing new to say,
eligible for the prize only by virtue of his age and stature. The
Writer’s books have been widely acclaimed, but his latest (ironically
the one that results in his nomination) is not good. He decides to fake
a suicide to boost both his chance of winning and his literary fame.
Lastly, there’s The Beginner, whom the critics say very talented but
unsure of himself. Unfortunately, his girlfriend finds out his affairs
and makes an ultimatum: If he wants her (and their baby) to stay, he has
to lose the prize. Filippo Bologna mercilessly lampoons everybody in the
business of literary publishing and puts them in various absurd and
funny scenarios.
- Hamid Ismailov: Жинлар базми ёхуд Катта ўйин (The Devil’s Dance) (April 24)
(Reading about a character suffering under a fever while having a fever
is surreal.) Abdulla Qodiriy was Uzbekistan’s most important novelist.
He spent most of 1938 in an NKVD prison during Stalin’s Great Purge. He
is rumored to have completed his last novel, “Emir Umar’s Slave Girl,”
but the manuscript disappeared without a trace, presumably burnt by the
NKVD. In “The Devil’s Dance,” Hamid Ismailov reimagines Abdulla
finishing the novel in his mind as he endures the harsh treatment in the
prison, resulting in a parallel between Abdulla awaiting his execution
and the beautiful Oyxon forced to marry the Khan of Kokand and his heir.
The first Uzbek novel to be translated into English, this novel is full
of beautiful poetry and first-class story telling.
- Susan Daitch: Siege of Comedians (April 20)
There are no comedians in this novel(!), which tells three stories
connected across time by crimes, nationalist conflicts, and refugee
crisis. In one story, forensic sculptor Iridia Kepler is threatened by a
man to alter the faces of three murder victims she’s almost completed.
In another, accent coach Martin Shusterman’s investigation of his
lover’s disappearance in Argentina leads to the the mystery of the
Assistant Minister of Propaganda in Vienna during WW2. Their journey
eventually leads to the Siege of Vienna during the Ottoman era and the
fate of its survivors. Daitch’s strength is her ability to switch mode
and genre (from thriller to noir to historical fiction) without being
boring.
- A S Byatt: The Biographer’s Tale (April 18)
“The Biographer’s Tale” follows Phineas G. Nanson, a postmodern literary
critic who abandons theory in search of “things” and “facts”, and not
feminism, deconstruction, semiotics, or other academic isms. Determined
to discover real life, he sets out to write a biography of a biographer,
Scholes Destry-Scholes, only to find that his subject left behind
nothing but fragments. As Phineas pieces together Destry-Scholes’s life
with help from an eclectic cast including a radiographer, taxonomist,
and even travel agents, his biography gradually becomes an autobiography
of himself. I never expected to learn so much about taxonomy (via
Carolus Linnaeus), statistics (Francis Galton), and theatre (Henrik
Ibsen) from a novel, yet I did. Byatt’s intellectual digressions are
always anchored by a joyful narrative.
- Daniel Pennac: Comme un Roman (Better Than Life) (April 16)
“Better Than Life” is not a novel, but it’s about novels and it reads
like a novel. Reflecting on his experiences as a parent, writer, and
teacher(!), Daniel Pennac asks how the love of reading begins and how
it’s lost. Its ultimate worth, though, lies in his “The Reader’s Bill of
Rights,” which includes the right not to read. But the lines that speak
right through me is this: “Time spent reading is always stolen. Like
time spent writing, or loving… Stolen from what? From life’s
obligations… If we were to consider love from the point of view of our
schedule, who would bother? Who among us has time to fall in love? Yet
have you ever seen someone in love not take the time to love?”
- Peter Adolphsen: Machine (April 16)
Another strong contender for the best novel I’ve read this year:
“Machine” is a unique novel about how chance shapes existence. It weaves
together two narratives: the journey of a drop of oil from the heart of
a prehistoric horse to combustion in a Ford Pinto, and the intersecting
lives of the car’s passengers. Clarissa, an inquisitive student
experimenting with LSD, picks up Jimmy Nash, a Soviet defector with a
passion for Emily Dickinson. From the drowning of a prehistoric horse to
a young woman breathing in toxins in the 1970s, the novel offers a
profound vision of life’s strange beauty.
- Laurent Binet: Perspective(s) (Perspectives) (April 15)
Laurent Binet is a master of “faction,” where he takes historical facts
and mixes it with convincing fiction. After “HHhH” (metafictional novel
about the assassination of Nazi leader Reinhard Heydrich), “The Seventh
Function of Language” (postmodern romp about the death of Roland
Barthes), and “Civilizations” (an alternate history in which the
Americas are never colonised by the Europeans, and the Inca emperor
Atahualpa invades Europe), he returns with “Perspective(s),” an
epistolary detective novel set in 1557 Florence, stuffed with real-life
Renaissance artist featuring detective Giorgio Vasari who with the helo
of almost retired Michaelangelo (and few others) tries to find out who
killed Jacopo da Pontormo. Not as complex or profound as his other
novels, but very entertaining.
- Claudio Magris: Un altro mare (A Different Sea) (April 13)
“A Different Sea” is an introspective novel that follows the journey of
three real-life intellectuals from Gorizia: Enrico Mreule, Carlo
Michelstaedter, and Nino Paternolli. The focus is on Enrico, who leaves
his home to emigrate to remote Patagonia, where he lives in solitude
with his Greek texts and flocks. Inspired by his mentor Schubert-Soldern
(who famously declined a philosophy chair at Leipzig to teach in
obscurity) and by Carlo, whose tragic suicide embodied his rejection of
societal falsehoods, Enrico seeks a life stripped of modern artifice.
With sparse dialogues, the novel functions more as a character study
than a plot-driven narrative. Enrico’s total asceticism and disdain for
modernity make him a fascinating figure, but the novel also evokes the
decay of the Austro-Hungarian Empire as it is shaken by war and
revolution. A fascinating read.
- George Garrett: Entered from the Sun (April 12)
The last episode of George Garrett’s Elizabethan trilogy, “Entered from
the Sun” (which reads perfectly well as a standalone), revisits the
mysterious death of Christopher Marlowe (brilliant playwright, rumored
spy, outspoken atheist, and alleged counterfeiter) four years after his
murder in 1593. Set in 1597, the novel follows two men hired by opposing
political factions to uncover the truth: Joseph Hunnyman, an actor and
Marlowe’s former acquaintance, and William Barfoot, a soldier and
seasoned spy. But don’t read this as a straightforward historical
whodunit. The investigation is Garrett’s excuse to explore the
contradictory world of late Elizabethan England, where religious
tensions, political intrigue, and a flourishing theatrical scene coexist
in uneasy balance.
- J.M. Ledgard: Giraffe (April 10)
“Giraffe” is a true story. In 1973, the Czechoslovakian government
imported dozens of giraffes to the Dvůr Králové Zoo, creating the
largest captive herd in the world. By 1975, the herd had grown to 47,
with nearly half believed to be pregnant. Then, on the night of April
30, 1975, the secret police sealed off the zoo and systematically
“liquidated” every giraffe. The operation was so thorough that not a
single official document remained. J.M. Ledgard pieces together the
story through multiple perspectives (Emil the blood flow researcher,
Jiri the state sharpshooter, Amina the factory worker among others),
revealing the psychological, ideological, and bureaucratic machinery
behind such a senseless act.
- Amanda Svensson: Ett system så magnifikt att det bländar (A System So Magnificent It Is Blinding) (April 8)
At the heart of “A System So Magnificent It Is Blinding” is the story of
triplet siblings (Sebastian, Matilda, and Clara) who discover that one
of them was swapped at birth. Each becomes convinced that they are the
one who doesn’t belong. The mystery deepens when they realize that the
missing child (the swapped baby) was in fact Sebastian’s girlfriend,
Violetta, whose suicide catalyzes the unraveling of their already
fragile family. Now 26, each sibling grapples with their own chaos and
personal crises, yet they begin to notice coincidences after
conincidences which make them question whether there’s a hidden purpose,
pattern, or system behind the madness of their lives. Though not all
questions are answered by the end, Amanda Svensson’s storytelling is so
immersive that we don’t just read about the siblings: we live alongside
them as they confront their fears, sadness, and joys.
- Borislav Pekić: Kako upokojiti vampira (How to Quiet a Vampire) (April 6)
There are no vampires in this novel. What a disappointment (not)! On a
more serious note, the novel tells the story of Konrad Rutkowski,
professor of medieval history, who in 1965 returns with his wife Sabina
to the town of D. in Yugoslavia where he had served in 1943 as a Gestapo
officer. From there he writes a series of letters to his brother-in-law
Hilmar, looking back at his wartime experiences. He describes
conversations with his superior Steinbrecher, his encounter with a
municipal clerk Adam Trpkovic and his satanic umbrella, and his failed
attempts to work against the system (totalitarian Nazism) from inside.
In a desperate attempt to integrate his past with his ideals, Rutkowski
turns his interrogation skills inwards and remakes himself, repudiating
both his own detestable history and history in general. How to Quiet a
Vampire is a demanding novel of ideas, one that offers a view of
militaristic and totalitarian system from the inside.
- Thomas McMahon: Loving Little Egypt (April 2)
This novel takes inspiration from Joe Engressia, a blind boy with
perfect pitch who, in 1967, discovered that whistling the fourth E above
middle C could manipulate phone systems. However, McMahon transposes the
story to the 1920s, centering on Mourly Vold (nicknamed Little Egypt), a
nearly blind physics prodigy who develops a method for tapping into the
long-distance phone network, enabling blind individuals to communicate
through what he calls the Party Line. Suspecting Bolshevik interference,
William Randolph Hearst enlists Thomas Edison to help shut it down. What
follows is a lively romp through early 20th-century history and
technology, featuring eccentric characters, thrilling escapades, and
appearances by figures like Nikola Tesla, Alexander Graham Bell, Sarah
Bernhardt, and even Henry Ford. Mourly and his friends outwit their
adversaries and ultimately find happiness. McMahon’s storytelling is so
convincing that I often found myself consulting Wikipedia to separate
historical fact from fiction.
- Richard Russo: Straight Man (April 1)
This novel follows Henry Devereaux, the reluctant interim chair of a
dysfunctional English department at a mediocre Midwestern university, as
he navigates what his close friend Tony calls “a crisis of the soul.”
Over the course of a chaotic week, Henry refuses to compile a list of
colleagues to be laid off due to budget cuts, gets his nose slashed by a
feminist poet, discovers that his secretary is a better writer than he
is, attempts to salvage his daughter’s marriage, and confronts his
absent, philandering father. While the novel is packed with sharp
observations on the absurdity of academia, its most memorable aspect is
the absurdly comedic moments, culminating in a scene where the entire
English faculty finds themselves trapped in a room, having forgotten
that the door opens inward.
- Patricia Duncker: Hallucinating Foucault (March 30)
“Hallucinating Foucault” by Patricia Duncker follows a postgraduate
student obsessed with the reclusive French writer Paul Michel. He delves
deeper into Michel’s work and learns that the author is confined to an
asylum, diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia. Encouraged by his
Germanist girlfriend, he travels to France to meet Michel, forging an
intense bond that leads to Michel’s release. Their journey to Midi
unearths the writer’s deepest secrets, including his connection to
Michel Foucault. Weaveing Foucault’s theories, particularly those on
madness, into the novel’s structure, Duncker has the story culminate in
a tragic ending. The mix of academia, obsession, and tragedy puts this
novel in the same category as Donna Tartt’s “The Secret History”.
- Beka Adamashvili: ბესტსელერი (Bestseller) (March 27)
Pierre Sonage is a little-known French writer. In fact, only twelve
people attend the launch of his latest book. Convinced that the only way
to achieve fame is through death, he takes his own life as a publicity
stunt, only to find himself in an unexpected version of hell. This is
not a place of fire and brimstone, but a literary inferno where writers
are tormented according to how they torture their own readers. James
Joyce is doomed to annotate his own footnotes endlessly, Jack Kerouac is
trapped in endless road trip, and Samuel Beckett remains in a state of
eternal waiting. Guided by Dante Alighieri, Pierre explores this surreal
underworld, where Orwell controls BBC (Big Brother’s Channel),
Shakespeare manages the Hothello hotel and MacBet casino ("To Beer or
Not to Beer!"), and Arthur Conan Doyle plays the role of investigator.
Everywhere he turns, literature shapes the bizarre and witty landscape
of the afterlife. There’s a lot in this slim postmo novel (itself is a
bestseller in Adamashvili’s native Georgia), but I find it trying too
hard to be as clever as, say, Andrew Crumey or Robert Irwin.
- Leon de Winter: Hoffman’s Honger (Hoffman’s Hunger) (March 26)
Leon de Winter’s “Hoffman’s Hunger” is set during the political upheaval
in 1989 Prague. Felix Hoffman, the Dutch ambassador to Czechoslovakia,
is a man crushed by pressures from all directions: political tensions
between the West and the crumbling Eastern Bloc, personal grief over his
twin daughters’ deaths, a stagnant marriage, and an insatiable physical
hunger that mirrors his spiritual emptiness. Amidst espionage
conspiracies and Cold War intrigue, he finds solace in having a big
dinner while reading Spinoza’s treatise, which helps him search for
“supreme happiness” in a world that seems intent on breaking him. The
novel unfolds slowly but remains entertaining (I can’t stop about the
endgame for all of de Winter’s setups), culminating in a climax just
before the fall of the Berlin Wall. I love how de Winter weaves
Spinoza’s philosophy into Hoffman’s struggle for survival, which
eventually offers a resolution for this poor man.
- Thomas Bernhard: Holzfalien (Woodcutters) (March 24)
“Woodcutters” is a relentless, hypnotic monologue of misanthropy, set
during a dinner party in an elegant Vienna apartment. The narrator, a
writer recently returned from England, sits in a wing chair and silently
observes the guests: artists, writers, musicians, seething with hatred
for their pretentiousness and the moral decay they embody. But he turns
his scorn on himself too and admits his own cowardice and hypocrisy. The
first fifty pages were hard, but the long, unbroken sentences become
more palatable once we understand how the this intense one-paragraph
novel mirrors the suffocating atmosphere of both the party and Austrian
society. I admire Bernhard’s fearlessness in voicing what normal people
wouldn’t have dared to say in public about the artistic, intellectual
and spiritual corruption. If you are currently in a hateful mode and in
need to vent (easy to do given the current political climate in
Indonesia), then this book might be the catharsis you need.
- Pablo de Santis: El enigma de Paris (The Paris Enigma) (March 22)
Pablo de Santis’ “The Paris Enigma” is an interesting deconstruction of
the detective genre set against the backdrop of the 1889 Paris World’s
Fair. The prestigious Twelve Detectives society (each representing a
different country) gathers to showcase their investigative methods, but
when one of their own is murdered, the fair turns into a crime scene.
Told from the perspective of Sigmundo Salvatrio, the assistant to
Argentina’s absent detective Renato Craig, the novel critiques the
traditional role of the detective’s sidekick, questioning their agency
and reliability (think of Holmes’ Watson or Poirot’s Hastings). Beyond
its intricate mystery, I like its exploration of the late 19th-century
clash between spiritualism and positivism, with detectives embodying
scientific reasoning while esoteric sects offer a more mystical
worldview.
- Vincenzo Latronico: Le perfezioni (Perfection) (March 19)
Spanning from the late 90s to early 2020s, “Perfection” follows Anna and
Tom, two creative professionals who relocate to Berlin, drawn by the
city’s promise of abundance and opportunity. Latronico deliberately
presents them not as fully fleshed-out individuals (we don’t even get
their physical description) but as representations of a whole
generation, allowing us to see ourselves in their struggle. His precise,
analytical prose (with no dialogue whatsoever) dissects every facet of
the couple’s lives, from their aspirations to their ideological
struggles. While they seek perfection, the inevitable chaos of existence
keeps it just out of reach, leaving them clinging to their carefully
curated physical and digital spaces as their only form of stability. An
homage to Georges Perec’s “Things”, “Perfection” resonates with me as
one of the more compelling books on the 2025 International Booker Prize
list.
- B.S. Johnson: Christie Malry’s Own Double Entry (March 16)
“Christie Malry’s Own Double Entry” tells the story of Christie Malry, a
disillusioned young man who applies the accounting principle of Double-
Entry to his life in a literal way: every slight against him is
“balanced” with an act of revenge, escalating from petty inconveniences
to mass murder. His rebellion against society is futile and ends with
his death from cancer before he can bomb the House of Commons. To me,
Johnson’s metafictional interruptions can be frustrating, though he is
eventually able to use it to provide a poignant conclusion. This novel
feels like a precursor to “Fight Club” in its exploration of an
individual waging war against a cold, indifferent system.
- Leo Perutz: Meister des Jüngsten Tages (The Master of the Day of Judgment) (March 16)
Set in 1909 Vienna, “The Master of the Day of Judgment” is a fascinating
mix of locked-room mystery, marital intrigue, and metaphysical horror.
It tells the story of the actor Eugen Bischoff, who dies under strange
circumstances. Suspicion falls on Baron von Yosch, his wife’s former
lover. But a cryptic phone call referencing “the Day of Judgment”
suggests something more sinister. As Baron von Yosch and engineer
Solgrub investigate, they uncover a force that drives its victims to
suicide. What I enjoyed most is the novel’s eerie, pre-war aristocratic
atmosphere, where everyone maintains an air of respectability even as
existential horror lurks beneath.
- Andrew Crumey: The Secret Knowledge (March 15)
This is a clever novel that blends music, history, and philosophy into
an intellectual thriller. In one timeline, composer Pierre Klauer dies
by suicide in 1913, leaving behind a mysterious composition titled “The
Secret Knowledge.” A few chapters later, we are told that Klauer is
still alive in 1919 Glasgow. In the present, pianist David Conroy
stumbles upon Klauer’s lost score, hoping it will revive his fading
career. As the two narratives unfold, Crumey weaves in famous musicians
and philosophers while playing with ideas of the multiverse and quantum
suicide, not that Crumey explicitly names these two concepts. This is an
erudite puzzle which doesn't spoonfeed its readers with easy answers.
- Agota Kristof: The Book of Lies (March 14)
“The Book of Lies” is a trilogy that pushes the boundaries of truth and
fiction. In “The Notebook”, twin brothers survive the war under their
cruel grandmother's care, learning to numb themselves to pain. In “The
Proof”, one brother (Claus) escapes, leaving the other (Lucas) behind.
Finally, “The Third Lie” upends everything, rasing a question on whether
Lucas ever existed at all. Each novel dismantles the one before it,
making us question what’s real and what’s imaginary. Kristof’s
signature, unembellished prose makes this both a mesmerizing and
uncomfortable reading.
- Agota Kristof: L’analphabète (The Illiterate) (March 12)
“The Illiterate” is the key to understanding Agota Kristof’s prose:
stripped of excess, raw, and precise because all of her books are
written in the French she painstakingly learned as an adult refugee.
This slim memoir traces her journey from fleeing Soviet-occupied Hungary
to surviving factory work in Switzerland, all while feeling “illiterate”
in her adoptive language. Her struggle mirrors that of her characters:
working by day, writing by night. One passage lingers with me: she
mentions that for her, reading is a “disease,” something that keeps her
from “living.” But isn’t reading also a way of living?
- Agota Kristof: Hier (Yesterday) (March 11)
“Yesterday” by Agota Kristof tells the story of Tobias, who flees his
homeland after killing his abusive father, only to find himself trapped
in a new country where survival means grueling factory work and nights
spent writing. Life for him has stalled: he exists in a state of
waiting. When Line, a woman from his past, reappears with her husband,
she becomes the “something” Tobias has been waiting for, but their love
is doomed. Kristof’s prose is stripped of excess, making the novel’s
sadness all the more piercing.
- David Mitchell: Black Swan Green (March 8)
Black Swan Green is a departure from David Mitchell’s usual experiments:
no fragmented narratives or genre-hopping like in Cloud Atlas or Utopia
Avenue here. This ia a straightforward coming-of-age story following 14-
year-old Jason Taylor through a year of growing up in the village of
Black Swan Green. Jason struggles with a stammer, schoolyard bullying,
and puberty (which he overcomes via self-acceptance).
-
Lars Gustafsson: Bernard Foys tredje rockad (Bernard Foy’s Third Castling) (March 3)
“Bernard Foy’s Third Castling” is a neglected postmodern gem, first
published in English in 1986. Set in Stockholm, Paris, Worpswede, and
Texas in 1983, the novel weaves together three Bernard Foys: a young
American rabbi caught in a spy thriller, an aging poet slipping into
Alzheimer’s, and a Swedish juvenile delinquent with homicidal
tendencies. Each Bernard Foy gradually dissolves into a character
written by the next, creating a series of metafiction that are
philosophical but never heavy-handed. With motifs drawn from Rilke and
Baudelaire, this novel is an intricate exploration of identity and
storytelling. I’m definitely interested in reading more of Gustafsson’s
work.
-
Vladislav Vančura: Marketa Lazarová (February 19)
Marketa Lazarová finally became available in English in 2013,
and it’s remarkable how modern (if not outright postmodern) it feels, despite being published in 1931.
The narrator constantly interrupts the story, offers opinions, and even insults the reader,
all while employing a cinematic storytelling approach. Set in medieval Bohemia,
the novel follows robber barons in their war against the King,
intertwined with a complicated (and forbidden) love story between their children.
What stands out most is how every faction (the robber barons, the King’s captain, and the Church)
claims divine justification for their actions, yet the novel ultimately reveals how power refuses
to tolerate those who choose their own path.
-
Peter Ackroyd, English Music (February 16)
English Music is a strange and ambitious novel that blends history, literature, and mysticism.
It follows Clement and Timothy Harcombe, a father-son duo working as healers in post-WW1 London
(though it’s Timothy who truly has the gift).
As Timothy comes of age, he experiences vivid visions shaped by the books, music, and art that define “English Music”.
The novel itself mirrors this concept, alternating between Timothy’s story
and pastiche chapters written in the styles of literary greats like Carroll, Dickens, and Blake.
While the main plot offers an engaging exploration of father-son relationships,
the stylistic imitations, though impressive, can sometimes feel like an endurance test.
Still, Ackroyd delivers a fascinating meditation on “Englishness” through literature and culture.
-
Domenico Starnone, Prima Esecuzione (First Execution) (February 10)
First Execution starts as a political thriller but soon turns into something far more unsettling.
Stasi, a retired teacher, reconnects with his former student, Nina, now an activist.
He once taught her to fight for justice, to stand with the oppressed.
But when she pulls him into a dangerous plot, he’s forced to ask himself whether he truly believes in his ideals
or if he’s just a coward hiding behind words.
The novel takes a metafictional turn as Stasi’s story is repeatedly interrupted by a narrator
(a writer who is clearly not Domenico Starnone) reflecting on the act of storytelling itself.
First-person narration cuts into third-person, creating a disorienting effect
where Stasi’s life bleeds into the narrator’s and vice versa.
This is a novel about conviction, fear, and the gap between theory and action,
and its twisty conclusion delivers a satisfying, thought-provoking punch.
-
Susan Barker, Old Soul (February 8)
Old Soul is an eerie, unsettling horror novel about Katerina,
an immortal woman bound to serve a Venusian god after making a Faustian pact in the 1800s.
The story unfolds through testimonies of people who have lost loved ones in bizarre, terrifying ways
(each trying to piece together the truth about Katerina, who has lived under many names).
These fragmented accounts are the strongest part of the book, often more gripping than the overarching plot.
I do wish the Venusian god’s perspective had been explored in more depth,
but the novel still delivers a satisfying, chilling ending.
-
Hanna Stoltenberg, Nada (Near Distance) (February 7)
Near Distance is a quiet, introspective novel
about the complicated relationship between Karin, a middle-aged woman, and her daughter, Helene.
They take a weekend trip to London, but the real journey is through Karin’s memories,
as the novel moves slowly between past and present.
It’s about missed connections, unspoken tensions, and the weight of an unfulfilled life
(though from the perspective of someone in a privileged, first-world setting).
The ending ties things up quite nicely, giving a sense of closure.
The writing style and mood reminded me a bit of Dorthe Nors and Vigdis Hjorth.
-
Maria Kuznetsova, Something Unbelievable (February 2)
Maria Kuznetsova’s Something Unbelievable was exactly the kind of break I needed
from the dense, labyrinthine world of Mircea Cărtărescu’s Solenoid (which I’m still only halfway through).
This novel is a story about two women — Natasha, a struggling actress in the U.S.,
and her grandmother, Larissa, who lives in Kyiv.
Natasha is at a crossroads, torn between the passion (but instability) of acting
and the stability of family life with her husband and one-year-old daughter.
Meanwhile, Larissa, through Skype calls, shares stories of her own past — her youth during WWII in the Soviet Union
and the hardships her own grandmother faced.
The novel shifts between their perspectives, slowly weaving together themes of history, family,
and the question of how to live a meaningful life.
-
Delphine de Vigan, Les enfants sont rois (Kids Run the Show) (January 15)
This novel left me thinking deeply about the world of family YouTube channels.
Melanie Claux, a mother who runs a channel featuring her kids, Sammy and Kimmy, is obsessed with likes and views
— convinced that life only matters when people are watching.
Her children, meanwhile, are essentially coerced into performing for millions,
blurring the line between parental love and exploitation.
Things take a chilling turn when Kimmy is kidnapped, and that’s where Clara Roussel comes in.
Clara, an evidence custodian with the Crime Squad, is the polar opposite of Melanie.
She’s disconnected from the digital chaos and embraces her solitude,
yet her role in the investigation brings her into Melanie’s world.
The contrast between Melanie’s desperate need for attention and Clara’s quiet resistance to it
will make the reader question what a meaningful life looks like in this era of surveillance capitalism.
-
Lev Grossman, The Bright Sword (January 11)
The backstories and portrayals of the knights in Lev Grossman’s The Bright Sword
add a compelling human element that makes this rendition of Arthur’s story richer and more engaging.
Grossman’s fresh take hooked me right away as he embraces the contradictions and anachronisms of the original tales
while seamlessly blending in elements from history.
The novel starts with Arthur’s death and the splintered Round Table, posing the big question:
what to do with a Britain that’s changing too?
I loved how sidelined characters were brought to life in unexpected ways:
Sir Palomides as a Muslim knight from Baghdad, transgender Sir Dinedan, Sir Bedivere secretly in love with Arthur,
and Sir Dagonet portrayed as bipolar.
Even Morgan, Merlin, and Nimue are given rich, fresh backstories.
Told through the eyes of Sir Collum, who arrives too late to Camelot, the novel becomes a powerful story of self-discovery.
By the end, we couldn’t help but root for these beautifully flawed and deeply human heroes.
-
Lutz Seiler, Stern 111 (Star 111) (January 7)
After the fall of the Berlin Wall, East German couple Inge and Walter pursue a lifelong secret dream by moving to the West.
Their son Carl, however, declines to look after the family home and heads to Berlin.
There, he lives in his father’s car until joining a group of squatters led by a shepherd and his goat, Dodo.
Together, they establish East Berlin’s first alternative bar, the Assel,
and engage in guerrilla occupations of apartments abandoned by East German pensioners, defectors, and refugees.
This is another demanding novel where actions take a backseat to atmosphere and Carl’s internal state.
I often had to reread sentences to fully grasp what was happening.
The translation from German vividly conveys the lawlessness, endless possibilities,
and anxieties of East Germany just before unification.
Carl and his parents truly embody “rare transitional species between two eras, half-past, half-future.”
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Devika Rege, Quarterlife (January 2)
It’s pure coincidence that the last book I read in 2024 (La Propagandiste by Cécile Desprairies)
and the first I finished in 2025 (Quarterlife) both explore
how ideology can provide purpose while distorting reality.
The novel follows Naren, returning to a rapidly changing India;
Amanda, navigating a teaching fellowship in a Muslim-majority slum;
and Rohit, a filmmaker, against the backdrop of India’s development and rising Hindu nationalism.
It’s an ambitious book, demanding in both its narrative scope and its carousel of side characters.
While some readers might find Rege’s deep dives into character psychology
and the fleeting appearances of minor figures overwhelming,
these choices effectively capture the chaos and anxiety her characters face
as they confront the inconsistencies and contradictions in their own identities.
Bonus point: I enjoyed the final chapter, “Release”,
where Rege delivers a plot twist/epilogue by summoning herself as both the narrator and the novelist.
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