The 15 Best Books I Read in 2017

I tried for a top 10 list, but couldn’t narrow it down that far.

I finished 132 books, abandoned 5, and am still working on 1. (I had to return it to the library midway through and haven’t gotten it back yet.

26 of them were re-reads, which means I read 106 new books, which is record number of new books for me. I read 43,326 pages last year, which is 5,134 pages more than the year before. 9 of the books I read at least partly as audiobooks.

I don’t have high-brow tastes, but I do like an entertaining tale with good writing. Of the 100+ books I read in 2017, I liked 15 of them enough to recommend to others. Honestly, that’s not bad odds.

1. The Sun is Also A Star, by Nicola Yoon (YA literary) At this point, I’m convinced anything Nicola Yoon writes will be amazing. This is a book about a young lady who’s family is from Jamaica. They’re about to be deported, and she’s trying to figure out a way for them to stay in the country. She meets a young Korean man, and they end up spending the day together. The book is from the point of view of the two main characters, but also from other characters, whose lives these two touch for a moment here and there. This is a book about love and culture and identity, but also about how sometimes we don’t realize how much of an impact we can have on a person by just a momentary encounter.
2. The Raven Boys, by Maggie Stievfater (YA fantasy light) This is a series of 4 books. I’ll be totally honest; the first one took me awhile to warm up to it. I was listening to it on audiobook, and I thought the language was odd. I was actually going to stop listening to it, but I was driving through the middle of nowhere, still had miles to go, and couldn’t get reception to download a different book. I figured it was better than nothing and kept going. I’m so glad I did! It merges myth and legend against a modern day setting. I fell in love with the characters, their romances, and their adventures. I will warn you that I did not love the ending. A bad ending can ruin a book for me, and this one wasn’t bad… it was just somewhat disappointing. It’s still worth reading, but be careful if endings are a thing for you too.
3. Fangirl, by Rainbow Rowell (YA real world) Rowell is another YA author who, in my mind, writes consistently good books. Bonus recommendation: Carry On. This book is about a nerdy girl who writes fan fiction and struggles with anxiety. When she gets to college, she has to stop using her safety nets (getting lost in fan fiction, her sister) and start participating in real life.
4. Slasher Girls and Monster Boys, Edited by April Genevieve Tucholke (YA horror) This is a book of short YA horror stories. I have my favorites, like In The Forest, Dark and Deep, Sleepless, and The Dark Scary Parts and All, but every single story in the collection was good. They mixed big names, like Leigh Bardugo and Kendare Blake with less famous authors.
5. When Breath Becomes Air, by Paul Kalanithi (memoir) Not going to lie, I cried, even though I knew full well that the author died before I even picked up the book. It was a beautiful meditation on an interesting man, and what it means to be human.
6. A Piece of Cake, by Cupcake Brown (memoir) This is a difficult read. Not because of the language, which was simple and direct, but because the subject matter is so tough. Cupcake (her real name) ends up in foster care after her mom dies, which is where she’s raped by the foster mom’s son. No one seems to care, and she spirals into self-loathing and drugs. Only because of an inner core of steel does she manage to get herself clean and become a successful lady. I already knew that everyone’s got a story, but this just reinforced the idea that you can never know what someone’s gone through unless you’ve lived it or they tell you.
7. Bel Canto, by Ann Patchett (literary) I couldn’t put this book down. It was sad and funny, about a group of people who are trapped together when terrorists take them hostage. But after awhile, the line between captor and captured blurs, and they all start to find out that they’re just a group of people trying to figure things out in the world. I can’t really describe it, but if you like literary fiction, you should read it.
8. The Female of the Species, by Mindy McGinnis (YA horror) Alex’s sister was killed by a predator. When the police don’t charge him, Alex kills him. Three years later, she’s used to being an outcast and keeping her secrets. But when she develops a friendship, and then starts dating a popular boy, she realizes that she can’t keep her secrets (or her rage) to herself anymore.
9. The Emperor of Anyplace, by Tim Wynne-Jones (YA literary with fantastical elements) This book was chosen by YA book club, and it’s so many different things. I didn’t expect to like it, but loved it. It’s part family drama in modern day, part mystery set during World War II. Two men from opposite sides get trapped together on a small island during the war and must deal with being trapped with the “enemy.” When Evan finds the book detailing what happened after his father dies, he tries to solve the mystery of who his grandfather really is.
10. Big Magic: Creative Living Beyond Fear, by Elizabeth Gilbert (self-help) Are you a creative person who feels stuck, or feels like you need permission to create? Then read this book. Elizabeth Gilbert talks about why the world needs more people who are passionate about art, all kinds of art. (Notice I didn’t say, “who are good at art.”)
11. When Dimple Met Rishi, by Sandhya Menon (YA romance) Dimple and Rishi’s parents have arranged for them to get married, when they’re older. But Dimple wants to be her own person, to learn more about web development, and not even think about romance. Their parents throw them together at a web development workshop and expect everything to work out. This is just a sweet but fresh romance. It’s light reading, but good light reading.
12. The Hate U Give, Angie Thomas (YA literary) This is what I’d call an “issue book.” That is, it’s meant to present an issue to the reader. Some of them get so heavy into their message that they forget to also provide an entertaining ride. This book, however, delivers. It’s clear what Angie Thomas wants to say, but she doesn’t overshadow the author’s protagonist, Starr, when she does it. Starr speaks for herself and tells us what it’s like to navigate between two different worlds, especially when someone you love was killed for reasons you don’t understand.
13. Outlander, by Diana Gabaldon (historical fiction) The first 100 pages are sloooooow. They’re all set-up, but it’s important set-up. Once I got past those pages, the rest of the story flew by. I’ve read the first two so far and have loved them both. These books have a bit of everything: history, war, romance. It’s a non-stop thrill ride.
14. A Mother’s Reckoning: Living in the Aftermath of Tragedy, by Sue Klebold (memoir) I truly believe this is an important book. When tragedies happen by human hands, we all seem to point fingers and say, “Someone should have known.” The problem is that most of the time, people didn’t know. Sure, they might have known something was off, but let’s be honest, who ever thinks that someone they love is capable of brutal violence? Sue Klebold confronts those statements and more in her book about her son, Dylan, one of the shooters at Columbine High School. Sometimes it seems like she’s talking to herself, still trying to understand what could have happened. She blends her own recollections with information from experts. It’s haunting, but hopefully eye-opening as well.
15. On a Pale Horse, by Piers Anthony (fantasy) When Zane shoots Death, he finds out that he has to take over the job. As he’s collecting souls, he finds himself in the middle of a conspiracy. A fun, fast-paced book.

There you have it. If you read something on my recommendation, stop back and let me know what you thought.

What was the best book/ books you read in 2017?

Feeding My Soul

Goblyn loves books too!

Once upon a time, I wrote stories and novels just for fun. I typed them up, polished them, and let them languish on my computer. Writing fiction was a job other people did, but not me. I went to work, came home, read books, and wrote stories.

One day, after I’d finished writing my (3rd? 4th?) (bad) novel, my husband looked at me, puzzled, and said, “Why don’t you ever try to get anything published?”

Well, honestly, it had never occurred to me.

This was back in the days before I used the internet for everything. Back before I had a computer in my pocket. So when I first started my journey, it wasn’t like I could just Google “how to get published.” I had to do research and such. I tried sending off short stories and querying agents regarding that really bad novel. And things went nowhere for me. I’d never been critiqued, and I honestly didn’t know I needed to be.

(I’ll tell you about my torrid love affair with adverbs sometime. *shudder*)

See, I’d been praised by teachers all my life for my writing. So I figured that since I did a great job at writing papers, I was good enough at fiction too. I had concentrated on Psychology and Philosophy in college, and hadn’t taken English classes. They bored me, and I figured I had nothing to learn. (Don’t judge… it was the arrogance of youth!)

Eventually, I found online critique groups, and after learning how to take criticism (the subject of Friday’s blog post) my first short story was published for the amazing amount of $50.

I told everyone, and I’m not a “tell everyone” kind of person. Most of my friends were supportive, but one said, “Really? You put all that work in and only got $50? It doesn’t seem worth it. How many hours did you spend on that story?”

And just like that, some of the air was let out of my bubble. I probably spent 10 hours (or more) on that story. So that works out to $5 an hour? That’s not even minimum wage. Not to mention all the stories I’ve spent time on that will probably never be published.

But then I remembered how many hours I spent writing stories just because it was fun, never intending them to be published. Some people watch TV, some people surf social media, some people watch the stars, some people read books. Hobbies don’t have to be profitable. And doing what makes my soul happy doesn’t have to make money.

I write because I love it. I love it when stories get published because I love to share things that make me happy. If one of my novels gets published, that would make me happy too, for the same reason. (And, quite frankly, because there’s something exciting about seeing my name in print.)

But if the novel never happens, if I just continue to blog and publish short stories, that’s okay too. I’ll keep writing, keep improving, keep trying and having fun. Because what my friend failed to understand was that it’s not about the hours spent or the money I make doing it. It’s about the fact that I’ve been in love with stories for as long as I can remember. And the ability to tell a good story is something special. If I can tell a story that makes other people think, or feel, or empathize, then I’ve done something amazing. I can’t put a price on that kind of connection with other people.

Do you feel that connection to others when you write or read stories?

The Timelessness of Stories

The death of Alan Rickman got me to thinking about stories, and how important they are, in so many ways, to us all.

Everyone loves a good story, whether it’s one that’s been written down, acted out, or told.  Stories are one of the oldest forms of entertainment.  They’re endlessly flexible, and though the core of them has never changed (good vs. evil, love, etc), the way they are told does reflect the times.  Fiction has a way of holding up a mirror to what’s important in society.

Alan Rickman was a wonderful actor who played a myriad of parts, though he’s perhaps best known for his villains.  His death has led others to speak out about what a wonderful man and friend he was as well, something I didn’t give much thought to before his death.  To me he was Snape, Hans Gruber, the Metatron, the Sherrif of Nottingham, and so many other characters.

That’s the power that stories have.  Stories transport us from our everyday lives, and have the ability to speak truths more profound than if they were plainly stated.  There’s a reason why artists of every kind are important to a society, and why the stories they tell, if told well, overshadow the writer, the actor, the teller.  The tale is what’s important, and if told well, becomes alive.

Pride and Prejudice was first published in 1813.  That’s over 200 years ago.  Yet there have been dozens of movie and TV adaptations of it.  Most recently, a parody novel Pride and Prejudice and Zombies has been published and will be made into a movie.  The story takes the classic version and adds our currently cultural obsession.  There have been countless adaptations and spinoffs.  The story is timeless, and both Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy are characters with lives of their own.  They’re not just names on paper; they’re living, breathing, people.  They’ve lived 200 years, and it’s unlikely that they’ll ever die.

I expect that Harry Potter will be the same way.  In our movie age, though, it’s likely that the books and the movies will always be merged, to an extent.  Who can picture Severus Snape without picturing Alan Rickman?  I can’t.  Will Alan Rickman still be Professor Snape 200 years from now?  Only time will tell, of course, but I’d like to believe that even if the movies are redone decades from now with fresh faces, Alan Rickman will always be the Snape that others are measured against.

There’s nothing I love better than a good story.  I want to be transported to different times and places.  I want to live inside someone else’s head for a little while, see through their eyes.  I love to talk to others about their stories, or the stories they love, or the stories they don’t love, and why.

I don’t want to hear about the weather; I want to hear about how the sun baked your skin, why you use sunblock (or don’t), what you think about vampires, and about whether or not you dance in the rain.

I don’t want to watch you use your cell phone while we’re at dinner; I want to hear about the last really great meal you had, whether or not you think you should have dessert first (because life’s short), whether or not you think that cell phones are secretly used by the government to listen to me talk about the weather, and how you use your phone to stay in touch with the people who are most important to you.

In other words, I’d rather hear you say something absurd than something mundane.  We’re all so in the habit of having safe conversations that we don’t say the really interesting things we’re thinking.  I’m wondering if people even have interesting thoughts anymore, or if cat videos are the current highlight of human insight.

Smile at me.  Say something absurd.  Tell me a story.

 

S is for Stories

So many books! They’re everywhere.

For me, it’s all about the story.

I don’t care what you’re talking about: books, movies, people.  I love a good story.

I’m more liberal than most people about what makes a good story.  I don’t really care if there are plot holes or if the story has been done before.  I just care about how well the story is told.  Ordinary can be interesting in the same way that extraordinary can be boring.

A lot of people complained that Avatar was a cliched story, but I loved it.  Even if it’s a story I’ve heard before, I liked the way it was told, and it had enough new and interesting elements to keep it fresh.  People complained that Twilight had poor writing, but if it did, I didn’t notice when I read it.  I was too drawn in my the story to worry about the fact that Bella and Edward have an unhealthy relationship dynamic.  The story was interesting and fun.

I like literature.  I like reading about psychological theories.  But that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy things at the other end of the spectrum, and everything in between.  As long as there’s an interesting story, I don’t mind if it’s cliche.  I enjoy stories I’ve read before, and I enjoy reading them in different forms, from different perspectives.  But then, I’m also the person who can read the same book over and over again and still have emotional reactions to it as if I were reading it for the first time.  (Where the Red Fern Grows makes me sob every. single. time.)

Stories connect me to the past.  Growing up, I loved Cinderella and Snow White, and remembering those stories gives me warm memories of my parents and grandparents.  I love sharing stories (discussing books and movie plots) with other people.  We all see the same story in different ways, and it’s interesting to hear other people’s perspectives on a story.

I know people who love sitcoms and comedy memoirs, but it can be hard for me to get into those things because I feel like too often, they focus on the punchline rather than the story.  There are always exceptions, of course, but my favorite stories are the ones that make me feel deeply, that make me cry or touch my heart.  I love characters who feel so real to me that they become part of my life even after I’ve closed the book.  Harry Potter, The Fault In Our Stars, Watership Down, Me Before You, and Watchers are just a few of the books that made me feel this way.

What’s your favorite type of story?  Do you have a book whose characters feel like part of your life?

B is for Books

For the Blogging A to Z Challenge this month, I’m going to post a different letter of the alphabet every day.  I’m trying to stick to the theme of “Things I Love.”

I’m not sure I could live without books.  Some people might think that’s an exaggeration, but books feed my soul in the same way that food feeds my body.

The first book I remember loving was Orange Oliver: The kitten who wore glasses, by Robert Lasson.

Such a great book!

 

I’ve always rooted for the underdog, and this book was no exception.  Poor Oliver couldn’t see anything, and so he got picked on.  Plus, he was different, and the book appealed to me because I was always a little different too.

There were many other books as time went on, and my mom took me to the library, where I checked out stacks of books that I couldn’t see over when I carried them.  I checked my favorite books out over and over.  Once I got an adult library card, they wouldn’t let me check out kids’ books anymore.  (This was before everyone was reading young adult fiction.)  I didn’t understand it, because I still loved the same books I’d read before.  I just wanted to read new ones too.

Reading has always been a process of discovery for me.  I’m transported elsewhere, living someone else’s life, being someone else for at least a little while.  A good book is like an old friend, and re-reading it is like visiting.  As I grow and change, my understanding and relationship with the old books grow and change as well.  But as with any good and faithful friend, I like to think that we can grow together.  The book doesn’t change, but it won’t be insulted if my interpretation of it does.

I take books everywhere with me, and I read anything I think I might like.  Classics sit side by side on my shelves with romance novels and young adult novels.  Science fiction sits next to books I read as a child.  I love anything with a good story, and I’m not ashamed to defend low-brow books or condemn high-brow ones.

A partial view of my bookshelves
Photo Credit: Doree Weller

I think that the books you read say a lot about you as a person.  My book choices say that I’m not afraid to be myself, and I don’t pigeonhole myself into any one category.  I care more about what’s inside than I do about what others think.  Most of all, they say I love to read.

What books do you have a life-long love affair or friendship with?  What do your book choices say about you?

 

F is for Family

Growing up, we were a small, close-knit family, and I always wished we would get together more often with all my aunts, uncles, and cousins, and do things.  Sure, we visited with them, but we never had big family dinners or family parties like you see on TV.

Midnyte and Moonshyne

I always hated history, but now that I’ve grown older, I’ve started to get interested in family history. Of course, the people who could tell me the most about it are long gone.  Why is that?  By the time you get old enough to be interested in history, you have to look for it.  I did some research on ancestry.com, and while it was interesting to me, it wasn’t what I wanted to know, which is those family stories that have been passed down, that are more fragile than spun glass heirlooms.

A couple years ago, my husband found tons of black and white pictures of his family from back in Poland.  Some of the people he could identify, and others, he had no idea.  Taking black and white photos in the early 1900s wasn’t like snapping a photo today.  I can take a 1000 pictures and have all of them be meaningless.  (Not that they all are, but it’s just that easy).  Back then, if there was a photo, it meant something, and I just wonder what story was lost to the family as the photo was passed down but the story wasn’t.

Laura Ingalls Wilder was quoted as saying that she wrote the Little House on the Prairie books because she saw how the pioneer way of life was dying, and she wanted to preserve it.  I thank her for that, because I learned more about that time period from her than I did from the history books in whose pages I drifted off to sleep.

But in the end, what’s important about family?  Is it all those stories I’ve forgotten?  Or the ones I remember?  I would like to know how my grandparents met (I should ask my mom or uncle about that), but I have a million images and stories in my head from my time with them.  My grandmother was actually the one who “trained” me to be a therapist.  When I was around 5, we played “psychiatrist.”  She would tell me all her “problems” and have me solve them.  Her “problems” were things like being picked on and called names.  Clever, huh?  I didn’t have a clue until years later.

As my grandfather got older, he had a cell phone.  My parents didn’t know how to use their voicemail, so I assumed he didn’t either.  I must have said something well-intentioned about it one day, because he responded, “I own it, don’t I?  I know how to check my voicemail.”  That sums up my grandfather.  He loved his constant companion, Amie, a Beagle rejected by another family.

Maybe that’s what matters about family.  Still, it wouldn’t kill me to write down a few stories about those that came before… before I don’t have a chance to decide if I want to or not.

We all grow up with the weight of history on us. Our ancestors dwell in the attics of our brains as they do in the spiraling chains of knowledge hidden in every cell of our bodies. ~Shirley Abbott