Faves 2022: Novels

of the literary variety

These kinds of lists are always difficult for me, because I read hundreds of books a year, and I’m terrible at taking notes or using sites like Goodreads (hello ADHD my old friend), so inevitably I leak most of those books, and retain little. Or at least, that’s how it feels. I’ve tried to make a more concerted effort this year to note what I’m reading in a diary, and more importantly what I think about these books, what I like or dislike or think is interesting—it’s a healthy practice to develop as a writer, and it’s something I once did regularly for poems (singular), but have let go over time. Now that I’ve entered the fiction game with my debut novel, and intend to continue writing fiction, it’s something I want to cultivate anew, some of which I’ll publish here.

For now, here are some of the books that made the strongest impression this year:

Matrix by Lauren Groff

A stunning novel that tells the story of an exiled noblewoman’s new life in a medieval English abbey—at its core it’s about punishment and pleasure, how they entwine, or can be found within each other. Lyrical without being dense, Groff floats over the narrative, slowing or accelerating as needed, leaving behind the dreariness of a day for the dream-like flow of a life over time. I am grateful for its brilliance, and the lessons it taught me.

At Night All Blood Is Black by David Diop

Diop’s slim arresting novel is haunting and terrifying, a visceral and sharp look into the mind of a soldier, or rather, the mad mind of war. It’s darkly hilarious in how it unmasks the ludicrous idea of “civility in war”; the army captain who forced men to die on the battlefield or to become monsters, killing those that resisted, is unnerved by the protagonist’s savagery, and is the one who man raises the idea of civility in the blood-soaked trenches. “Temporary madness”, or the performance of madness, is acceptable, but permanent madness—the revelation that there is no break between the monster on the field and the man, between war and society—was unacceptable and unthinkable. Brilliant.

Lady Life by Ahmet Altan

translated by Yasemin Congar

I don’t know if it’s cheating to include a book I gave a cover quote to, but I don’t give quotes to books that don’t deserve it, so, here is what I said: “A studied look at the alienation that springs from oppression, this is a moving meditation on love, loneliness, and literature.” It’s hard going when the protagonist is a writer, for this reader anyway, but Altan doesn’t fall into the trap of making his character’s struggles about writing, which is crucial to his success. Nonetheless, his thoughts on literature do make their way into the novel, a sly meta-commentary on the work, and he is never less than insightful. An interesting, playful work I will think about for a long time.

Devotion by Hannah Kent

Recently shortlisted for the Prime Minister’s Literary Award for Fiction, but otherwise criminally overlooked in our awards cycle, this is a staggeringly beautiful book about queer yearning, how becoming a new self is its own kind of death, and the tragedy of unfulfilled love. Line for line, Hannah Kent is one of the best writers in Australia.

Mothers and Sons by Colm Tóibín

Listen, as a bisexual faggot there are two subject matters I will never be objective about, one is queer yearning (see Devotion), the other is mothers and sons. I had not read any of Tóibín’s work prior to this, which I picked up based on the title alone (hello), and I adored it. This collection of short stories is fantastic, every entry, at minimum, is quite good, with a couple being exceptional. In particular, the first story “The Use of Reason” blew me away, and really, everything else pales beside it—I’m not sure why it opens the book, to be honest. That’s probably my only criticism. I need to read more of his work.

The Dangers of Smoking in Bed by Mariana Enriquez

translated by Megan McDowell

Another short story collection that made a mark, Enriquez has a singular, remarkable voice and operates in a gothic mode I can only envy for its range: urban, suburban, intimate and epic, comic and horrific, she can do it all. I adored this book and cannot wait to read more of her work. She has a novel out right now that is huge (a giant tome) called Our Share of Night, which I have my eye on but sadly cannot afford.

If I had more time and energy I’d go on and on—Abdulrazak Gurnah’s By the Sea and silence is a sense by Layla AlAmmar were also excellent reads—but I’ll leave it there. The more people who subscribe, the more time I’ll have to give so I encourage you to share and/or sign up if you haven’t already. Next up: my fave poetry, followed by SFF novels. Until then, hit the comments to let me know what literary books you read and loved recently! NB: next year, book reviews and the like will be paywalled, because I want to be unguarded in my thoughts.

—Omar