My Favorite Reads of 2024
It was a good reading year.
I read 54 books this year (I feel obligated to share that my goal was 75 books, but as it turns out, reading is tough when you’re in a period of grief and managing three dogs and teaching full-time and in an MFA program, so 54 feels pretty good). I liked nearly everything I read this year, but these books made me think and stayed with me long after I finished them.
I am presenting them alphabetically by author’s last name because putting them in order of favorites brings back memories of MySpace Top 8, and I don’t want to hurt the books’ feelings. I am a normal person. I am doing fine. Thank you for asking!
Martyr! by Kaveh Akbar: The first line of this book is: “Maybe it was that Cyrus had done the wrong drugs in the right order, or the right drugs in the wrong order, but when God finally spoke back to him after twenty-seven years of silence, what Cyrus wanted more than anything else was a do-over.” When I read it, I wrote next to it, “Holy shit, has there ever been a better opening line?” and while the answer is no, the thing is that every line of this book got better. A poet writing a novel is already a treat, but this novel tackles purpose, spirituality, art, sobriety, death, and what it means to create. This book is one of the best things I’ve ever read. It is worth your time.
Madwoman by Chelsea Bieker: I am a huge fan of Chelsea as a writer, a teacher, and a human, and while I have loved every single one of her books, this one is something extra special. The characters felt both tragic and deeply loveable — completely human. I loved and related to how Clove, the main character, uses the pursuit of wellness to erase her past and cope with shame and how it’s woven throughout the story as Clove aims to outrun her past. The book simultaneously feels like a thriller, a tragedy, and a love story, and I could not put it down.
Housemates by Emma Copley Eisenberg: This book is gorgeous from start to finish. It’s a celebration of queerness, coming of age, and art and how it can bring us alive. It is one of the best things I’ve ever read about what it means to live in a fat body. I sobbed (happily) when I read, “‘I don’t have much to say,’ she said. ‘Except for that it’s always been hard for me to feel. I don’t know. Together with someone. But with you, it’s not so hard. I have enough room.’” I wrote it down because it was one of the first things I’ve ever read that reminded me of how I feel in my own queer relationship. I read this over the summer, in the pool, and it remains one of my favorite memories of the year.
Small Rain by Garth Greenwell: Garth Greenwell is brilliant. He’s an incredible writer, stylistically, and an extraordinary thinker. I took a series of classes with him last year about mysticism and “saying yes to life,” which was a more extensive meditation on the divine, and it was one of the richest learning experiences I’ve ever had. I loved his other two novels, but Small Rain was extremely lovely. A medical crisis causes the main character to be hospitalized for weeks on end during the COVID-19 pandemic, and what emerges is a story about marriage, connection, healthcare, love, and humanity. It’s tender and profound and renders the small, private details of a marriage so beautifully.
Writing Begins With The Breath by Laraine Herring: This book was recommended by Chelsea Bieker, and it’s one of the best books I’ve read about creativity and the somatic experience of writing. It combines exercises to help you connect with your own authentic voice with inspiration and musings on what it means to be a writer. I return to this book frequently when I need to feel inspired or reconnect to myself.
Splinters by Leslie Jamison: Leslie Jamison leaves me in awe with everything she writes. She is a masterful essayist who manages to surprise me in every piece — I never know where she will take me, and yet, I trust her implicitly because she weaves things together so tightly and unexpectedly. Her prose is incisive and propulsive. I’m not a mother, so I didn’t know if I would connect with this book. It’s so much more than writing about motherhood. I loved Jamison’s thoughts on marriage, creating, what it means to be a daughter, grappling with your relationships with your parents, and so much more.
All Fours by Miranda July: I love Miranda July, and I have loved her since the early days of her “Learning To Love You More” project. She was one of my first examples of what it meant to be an artist, seemingly unfettered by criticism or fear. I am the opposite of Miranda July, which draws me to her work and what I love about All Fours. It’s wild and feminist and sexual and strange, and I love it. All Fours covers intimacy, artistry, marriage, independence, and what it means to be free. I haven’t stopped thinking about this book. Also, may I recommend listening to David Sedaris reading “Roy Spivey,” a short story by Miranda July? It’s a delight.
Bright Young Women by Jessica Knoll: This book is an excellent read in general, but moreover, it made me think about my obsession with true crime. It’s a fictional retelling of the Ted Bundy story, following “The All-American Sex Killer,” told through the eyes of Pamela Schumacher, sorority president and witness to one of his most heinous crimes, and Tina Cannon, who is convinced that her friend was one of his victims. Instead of putting the focus on the killer (the way so many true crime documentaries do, turning them into sex symbols or obsessions), the book focuses on the victims, the survivors, and the aftermath and harm of the crimes. I listened to the audiobook and loved it.
Exhibit by R.O. Kwon: A quick confession — I was part of a Litquake show this year (and my piece was horrid, but that’s a different post), and R.O. Kwon read as part of it, and not only is she an incredible writer, she is kind and gracious and lovely, and I was SO starstruck when I met her. I was a fan of her first novel, The Incendiaries, and I adored Exhibit. Exhibit is deep and spiritual, concerned with desire, art, family, and God. It’s queer and very hot and uniquely written. I loved Kwon’s use of all senses to draw her reader in — this book is a somatic experience.
Here After by Amy Lin: I found Amy Lin’s book through Jordan Kisner’s podcast, “Thresholds,” and was so captivated by her interview that I bought the book the same day. This memoir is the story of the death of Lin’s young husband, Kurtis, and the fallout of the grief. Lin’s writing is spare and beautiful, and this book was achingly beautiful. I am also a fan of her Substack, At The Bottom Of Everything, where she writes with similar tenderness about connection, writing, and raising a puppy.
Such A Bad Influence, by Olivia Muenter: Like most people, I fell in love with Olivia on Instagram during her viral tipsy candles video and then somehow tricked her into being my friend. I was beyond excited for Such A Bad Influence; this book was incredible. I don’t tend to read thrillers, but I flew through SABI. It’s a thoughtful commentary on social media, influencer culture, and how children are exploited for online content. The final twist got me, and the way everything in this book comes together is brilliant. I loved it. Highly recommend!
Sandwich by Catherine Newman: I cannot explain how much I loved this book. I fell in love with Catherine Newman after reading We All Want Impossible Things, cried over her perfect house tour, and then became Instagram pals with her because she is delight in human form! Sandwich is so FUNNY and heartbreaking and well-written. It tells the story of a family’s week at the beach, where the main character has adult children and aging parents and so many feelings. Catherine Newman is one of the funniest writers I’ve ever read, and she manages to capture relationships in the most lovely way.
We Were The Universe by Kimberly King Parsons: This book was unlike anything else I read this year, and I loved it. It tells the story of Kit, a mother who is finding her way while grieving the loss of her sister, Julie. Using fantasy, psychedelics, and any form of escape she can access, Kit attempts to process her grief while managing her marriage, her relationship with her mother, and her life after an impossible loss. This book is sad, funny, horny, queer, and fascinating and on top of all of that, the prose is fantastic.
Intermezzo by Sally Rooney: I love Sally Rooney, and this might be my favorite of hers since Normal People. Following the story of Peter and Ivan Koubek, two brothers who are opposite in every way as they navigate the death of their father, this book explores familial relationships, love, and success in divergent paths. Peter, the elder and more “successful” brother, builds and loses relationships with Sylvia, his first love, and Naomi, a radical college girl with whom he has a murky relationship that is both sexual and financial. Ivan, a former chess prodigy falls in love with Margaret, a woman who is older than him with her own griefs. This book broke my heart with it’s raw exploration of grief, familial bonds, guilt, love, and forging one’s own path. Sally Rooney is a master of writing sex, love, relationships, culture, criticism, and family, and this book is a perfect example of those gifts.
The Anthropologists by Ayşegül Savaş: This book is smart and elegant and manages to be extremely profound in the smallest of moments. It tells the story of Asya and Manu who are looking for an apartment to purchase. Asya studies each neighborhood, home, meal, and day with precision and records it (hence the title), and derives meaning from each experience. The book uses the smallest moments to explore questions about ritual, life-building, friendship, love, family, and home. It’s a quiet book that probes deep questions through character and relationship — one of my favorite kinds.
Worry by Alexandra Tanner: This book is one I think about frequently, even though I read it ages ago. Mostly, I wonder about the dog in the book, whose name is Amy Klobuchar and has an ambiguous ending. But, I also think about how wonderfully Tanner manages to write about what it feels like to be a millennial with ennui, to live in this specific era of the Internet, what it feels like to struggle with mental health, and how to manage complicated family relationships. This book made me laugh SO MUCH but also made my heart squeeze. It’s weird and wacky and I loved it.
Margo’s Got Money Troubles by Rufi Thorpe: I said I didn’t want to pick a favorite book of the year, but it feels serendipitous that this book is at the end of the list. I loved this book so much. LOVED. It’s unlike anything I’ve read, both in craft and plot. Margo is a college student whose brief affair with her professor leaves her pregnant. Margo’s mother is a former Hooters waitress who is dating a born-again Christian, and her father, Jinx, is a former pro-wrestler. In order to support her baby, Margo turns to OnlyFans, and using her father’s advice on how to build a compelling character, she creates a form of income and a life of her own. The book is rife with opportunities for commentary on sex work, feminism, economics, family, motherhood, and morality, and it offers it without being preachy or overwrought. Thorpe also switches between telling Margo’s story in the present tense and from the voice of experience and knowing better. The switch between first and third person was fascinating to me because it felt so much like how we process events and experiences. I loved this book so much. Highly recommend.
Two final things:
Best Backlist: An honorable mention has to go to Commonwealth, by Ann Patchett, whose work I am obsessed with.
Best Poem: I cannot tell you how many times Gabrielle Calvocoressi’s poem, “Hammond B3 Organ Cistern” saved my life this year. Listen to it. (CW: suicidal ideation).
Thank you so much for reading and being in this space this year. It means the world to me.
I loved Splinters, Bright Young Women, and Exhibit. I always appreciate your reviews and reading recommendations, I added almost all these to my TBR.
Your reviews are so vivid and compelling, thank you for sharing!