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The Millions’ Great Summer 2026 Book Preview
After a long and merciless winter, summer is upon us, and with it, the urgent need for beach reads, pool reads, park reads, fire escape reads, coffee shop patio reads—you get the point. We've got you covered. Below, you’ll find some 130 books out this summer that we’re excited about here at The Millions. Some we’ve already read in galley form; others we’re simply eager to dive into based on their authors or subjects. We leaned on our friends at Publishers Weekly to help blurb some of the many, many titles that we’re eager to put on your radar.
—Sophia Stewart, editor
Note: While we're still on an editorial hiatus, we're still working hard to produce our seasonal previews—we hope to return to our full operations soon.
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July
The Abyss by Jeyamohan, tr. Suchitra Ramachandran (Transit)
Originally published in 2003, this deeply human story from Jeyamohan tells of slavery, religious hypocrisy, official corruption, and arranged marriage in 1991 Tamil Nadu. Read more.
Up All Night: A World History of Nightlife by Imogen Willetts (Grove)
In this spectacular debut, historian Willetts surveys 350 years of influential international nightlife scenes. Read more.
Élisabethr by Éric Rohmer, tr. Aaron Kerner (McNally)
Originally published in 1946, the lone novel from celebrated French New Wave filmmaker Rohmer (1920–2010) is an alluring if rambling affair set mostly in northern France before the outbreak of WWII. Read more.
Scavenging Beauty by Angelica Glass (Riverhead)
In her striking debut, social worker Glass recalls walking down every road in Santa Cruz County, Calif. Read more.
A Real Animal by Emeline Atwood (Catapult)
A young woman navigates her desires in the wake of a sexual assault in the propulsive and stunning debut from Atwood. Read more.
American Alt by Chris Lockhart (Bloomsbury)
This extraordinary memoir by anthropologist Lockhart follows his efforts to help his friend, Michael Dodd, a former Marine diagnosed with dissociative identity disorder, recover his memories of events leading to his 2021 arrest for planning to kidnap Washington governor Jay Inslee. Read more.
The Great Wherever by Shannon Sanders (Holt)
Sanders delivers a gripping multigenerational epic of land, home, and inheritance. Read more.
We Were Forbidden by Jacqueline Harpman, tr. Ros Schwartz (Transit)
The three female protagonists in this sharp-edged triptych from international bestseller Harpman push back against the political, educational, and sexual regimes, respectively, that govern their lives. Read more.
Good Morning Means I Love You by Kendra Allen (Ecco)
Allen continues the theme of self-manifestation explored in her memoir, Fruit Punch, in this lyrical and sensuous debut novel about a 30-something woman’s unconventional family. Read more.
Nightjar by Emily Ruskovich (Random House)
Ruskovich explores the implications of mysteries and lies in this potent collection of five stories. Read more.
You Won't Get Free of It by Rachel Aviv (Knopf)
New Yorker staff writer Aviv delivers a sharp collection of reported stories about mothers and daughters navigating medical and moral crises. Read more.
False Prophet by Afsheen Farhadi (Melville House)
An up-and-coming actor fabricates his late mother’s life story for a memoir, in Farhadi’s beguiling debut. Read more.
A Sudden Flicker of Light by David Thomson (S&S)
Film critic and historian Thomson delivers an insightful history of filmmaking that investigates the negative effects of the medium. Read more.
They Stole a City by Lauren Collins (Penguin Press)
Collins's history, spanning more than 125 years, traces the impact of the 1898 white supremacist massacre and coup in Wilmington, N.C., through the stories of four families.
Ada by Mark Haber (Coffee House)
A petty French tyrant recounts his failed conquests in this cerebral and entrancing narrative from Haber. Read more.
Astronaut! by Oana Aristide (Norton)
Aristide evokes in this splendid novel the heightened fear and tension of 1989 Romania near the end of Nicolae Ceaușescu’s totalitarian reign. Read more.
Every Inch a Lady by Audrey Smaltz (Amistad)
Pathbreaking model and businesswoman Audrey Smaltz—who also worked as a Wall Street broker and magazine editor—details her rise to the upper echelons of the fashion industry in this lively memoir.
Going to the Moon by Sally Ashton (Duke)
The poet's entry in Duke University Press's Practices series meditates on the Moon's influence on humanity—and the threat posed by our attempts to colonize it.
Living, Together ed. Samantha Paige Rosen (Beacon)
Contributors including Kristen Arnett, Kim Stanley Robinson, and Sarah Thankam Mathews reflect on the virtues of communal living, chosen family, and the many forms of home in this imaginative collection.
Seven: Or How to Play a Game by Joanna Kavenna (Faber)
An underemployed young academic assists a famous “Box philosopher” on researching her quixotic book in this stimulating if freewheeling novel from Orange Prize winner Kavenna. Read more.
Aging Out by Lucy Schiller (Flatiron)
Schiller, a nonfiction writing professor at Texas Tech, debuts with a moving examination of the complex reality of growing old in the U.S. Read more.
Our Knives Will Save Us by Nephi Craig (Penguin Press)
In this affecting debut memoir, Craig extols the culinary heritage of his ancestors and discusses how cooking supported his sobriety. Read more.
Push the Wall by Frank Miller (Saga)
Miller, creator of such celebrated comics series as the Dark Knight Returns and 300, meditates on the forces behind his art in this exuberant memoir. Read more.
Hustle, Baby by Priya Guns (Doubleday)
Guns serves up an energetic tale of a Tamil family struggling to survive in Toronto. Read more.
Should the Waters Take Us by Stephanie Soileau (Doubleday)
Steeped in history, Soileau’s wonderful debut novel, after the story collection Last One Out Shut Off the Lights, revolves around three interconnected French Acadian clans in 2019 Louisiana. Read more.
Bedlam by Jennifer Higgie (Verso)
Higgie, author of The Mirror and the Palette, captivates in this poetic story of English artist Richard Dadd (1817–1886) and his descent into madness. Read more.
Chosen Family by Madeleine Gray (Mariner)
Gray explores two women’s messy friendship and tortured love affair in her perceptive latest. Read more.
Country People by Daniel Mason (Random House)
The North Woods author's latest narrates a year in the life of a family as they strike out into the unknown (aka Vermont), leaving all the comforts of home behind.
Famous Men by Julie Buntin (Random House)
In the engrossing sophomore novel from Buntin, an aspiring writer enters a complex relationship with a renowned author notorious for his romances with younger women. Read more.
Journey to Nowhere by Shiva Naipaul (Outsider)
First published in 1980, this searing report from late novelist and journalist Naipaul picks apart the story of the 1978 Jonestown massacre. Read more.
A Quiet Place by Seichō Matsumoto (Modern Library)
In this stellar psychological thriller from Matsumoto, Japanese bureaucrat Tsuneo Asai tries to unravel why a woman with a serious heart condition would risk her health by climbing a steep hill in an area where she knew no one. Read more.
Data Empire by Roopika Risam (Harper)
Data science is “not a modern tool but an ancient turning point in how humans learned to organize and imagine the world,” asserts media studies scholar Risam in this brilliant history of “how those early marks grew into systems of power over everyday life.” Read more.
Sex Diaries by Alyssa Shelasky (Random House)
These all-new anonymous accounts, compiled by Shelasky in the style of her popular New York magazine column, pull back the curtain on non-monogamy.
It Will Come Back to You by Sigrid Nunez (Riverhead)
Nunez, winner of the National Book Award for The Friend, offers more close readings of human nature in this masterful career-spanning story collection. Read more.
Air by Christian Kracht, tr. Daniel Bowles (Norton)
In this disorienting tale by the International Booker Prize–nominated author of Eurotrash, a Swiss interior designer receives a strange commission to coat a massive Norwegian data center in the “perfect white.”
The Frenchmen: Or, My Life in Theory by Emily Eakin (Penguin Press)
New York Times Book Review editor Eakin’s masterful debut blends a coming-of-consciousness memoir with an engrossing portrait of the tumultuous (and often intertwined) lives of French theorists. Read more.
Unsayable: A Life in Writing by Michael Cunningham (Random House)
Pulitzer winner Cunningham offers eloquent reflections on life, love, and literature, as well as valuable pointers on craft and storytelling, in this sterling memoir. Read more.
Olenka by Budi Darma, tr. Tiffany Tsao (Penguin Classics)
Romantic obsession drives this intelligent 1983 novel from Darma and translated by Tsao, who won the PEN Translation Prize for Darma’s People from Bloomington. Read more.
Yellow Pine by Claire Vaye Watkins (Riverhead)
In this lyrical and scathing narrative from Watkins, an environmental advocate longs for another child. Read more.
Country of Lords by Kimberly Phillips-Fein (Norton)
Responses to the rise of Trumpism often focus on “cultural and economic conflicts of recent origin,” but this striking study from historian Phillips-Fein points to a different, older “source of strength for the right today”—a tradition stretching back to the nation’s founding that “sees working people as essentially inferior” and the rich as a “natural aristocracy.” Read more.
Carousel: An Essay on Seeing by Sarah Minor (Yale)
Minor delivers a meditative exploration of seeing and being seen, following a professor as she teaches a class called “History of the Panorama.” Read more.
Rise Above by Matthew Schnipper (Random House)
Schnipper debuts with a wrenching account of his toddler’s sudden death from a congenital abnormality. Read more.
Cool Machine by Colson Whitehead (Doubleday)
Whitehead concludes his Harlem Trilogy with a transcendent and wildly entertaining novel in which his recurring characters grapple with the ways their lives are defined by crime and the city they call home. Read more.
The Savage Landscape by Cal Flyn (Viking)
Flyn delivers an exhilarating exploration of the nature and meaning of wild lands. Read more.
Liberation Summer by Micki McElya (Avid Reader)
Pulitzer Prize finalist McElya writes a sweeping account of the road to the September 1968 protests of the Miss American Pageant and the birth of a new politics of beauty.
All That's Unseen by Emilee Hackney (Penguin Press)
Hackney debuts with a thought-provoking account of her early life in Appalachian Virginia, which was characterized by lush landscapes, financial hardship, and church. Read more.
Beginning Middle End by Valeria Luiselli (Knopf)
A writer and her 12-year-old daughter grapple with their family legacy while on a road trip through Sicily in this arresting and layered novel from Luiselli. Read more.
Few and Far Between by Jan Carson (Scribner)
On the eve of the Troubles, Northern Ireland’s largest lake is drained to form a new county, in this stunning alternative history from Carson. Read more.
I Made You Up Inside My Head by Marta Pérez-Carbonell, tr. Rosalind Harvey (Riverhead)
Three strangers meet on a sleeper train in this elegant debut from Pérez-Carbonell. Read more.
The Obsessed by Lizzie Buehler (Putnam)
Literary translator Buehler debuts with a thought-provoking meditation on romantic love, parasocial relationships, and academia. Read more.
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August
Profiling by Philippe Huneman (Stanford)
This demanding study from Huneman, director of research at the Institute of History and Philosophy of Science and Technology in Paris, examines how predictive algorithms influence identity and social life. Read more.
Suffer a Witch by Joy McCullough (Dutton)
YA novelist McCullough blends poetry and prose in this bruising account of being sexually abused by a youth pastor at her preacher father’s Presbyterian church. Read more.
Daylight Come by Joshua Jelly-Schapiro (Penguin Press)
Jelly-Schapiro paints a revealing portrait of Harry Belafonte, whose career as the “King of Calypso” and lifelong activism helped remake America through the civil rights era and beyond.
Yñiga by Glenn Diaz (Coffee House)
The incendiary latest from Diaz chronicles a Manila woman’s displacement and reckoning with her country’s legacy of violence. Read more.
Hiroshima, 8:15 by Kiyoshi Tanimoto (Modern Library)
This previously unpublished, English-language account by atomic blast survivor Japanese Methodist minister Tanimoto features his own harrowing observations of the catastrophic event. Read more.
Etna by Paul Yoon (Scribner)
A combat-trained dog sets out for home after a war in this magnificent novel from Yoon. Read more.
Awake Awake by Fiona Mozley (Algonquin)
Struggling writer Mary Mooney comes to wonder if she’s been fabricating “fabulous tales” of her childhood to her psychoanalyst in this quirky and intellectually complex novel from Mozley, author of the Booker-shortlisted Elmet. Read more.
The People’s Historian by Dave Zirin (Dutton)
Nation sports editor Zirin offers a rousing biography of historian Howard Zinn, whose 1980 bestseller A People’s History of the United States remains as embattled as it is popular, with ongoing attempts to ban it from libraries and classrooms. Read more.
The Amateur by Chris Bohjalian (Doubleday)
A freak accident at a Westchester County, N.Y., golf course derails a young woman’s life in this powerful domestic thriller from Bohjalian. Read more.
Plant Lady by Minyoung Kang, tr. Shanna Tan (Berkley)
A woman abandons her office job to open a nursery that sells more than plants in Korean journalist Kang’s brilliant debut. Read more.
Sex and Dissent by Meaghan Beatley (Penguin Books)
Journalist Beatley’s remarkable debut surveys four feminist protest movements that raged across Latin America and Spain in the 21st century. Read more.
Kitten by Stacey Yu (Random House)
Yu’s deeply felt debut finds Katie, a young Chinese American woman and recent college grad, adrift in New York City, financially precarious and unable to muster the professional or personal ambitions being so diligently pursued by her peers. Read more.
A Country Doctor by Sarah Orne Jewett (Modern Library)
This oft-forgotten 19th-century novel centers on a young woman torn between her passion for medicine and what society expects of her.
The Ego Trip by Kimon de Greef (Doubleday)
South African journalist de Greef, who has spent years reporting on global psychedelic movements, delivers a chilling saga about a former doctor who spearheaded the rise of toad smoking in the 2010s. Read more.
Beyond Beauty by Devon Cox (Norton)
Historian Cox serves up an evocative biography of prominent 19th- and 20th-century painter and portraitist John Singer Sargent. Read more.
The Story of Your Life by Kathryn Jezer-Morton (Viking)
The Cut columnist Jezer-Morton debuts with a shrewd analysis of how social media has restricted the stories people tell about themselves and others. Read more.
Triage by Claudia Rankine (Graywolf)
Poet and essayist Rankine delivers an innovative, genre-defying mix of narrative and criticism centered on a contentious friendship between the narrator—presumably Rankine—and a character referred to as “the theorist.” Read more.
Hannah Arendt: A Life of the Mind by Thomas Meyer, tr. Shelley Frisch (Penguin Press)
Meyer's intellectual biography draws on newly discovered archival materials and previously overlooked documents to trace the life and work of a philosophical icon.
Three Tenses by Ed Park (Random House)
Stray musings and recollections reveal a writer’s restless mind in this scintillating memoir from novelist Park. Read more.
A Tender Age by Chang-rae Lee (Riverhead)
The Korean American narrator of Lee’s striking latest reflects on a pivotal year of his childhood in the mid-1970s, inviting the reader to ponder with him the mystery of what drove him to act out in his wayward youth. Read more.
Mia by Leslie Bazzett (Scribner)
Two American expats in a picturesque Mexican city forge an exciting and dangerous bond in Bazzett’s nuanced and unsettling debut. Read more.
On the Mark by Florence Hazrat (Basic)
Hazrat's history, which spans ancient Mesopotamia to the dawn of emojis, argues that all punctuation marks—from the forgotten (ever heard of an obelus?) to the ubiquitous—are worthy of attention.
Sunrise by Téa Obreht (Random House)
A Wyoming ghost town provides the stage for this spectacular novel from Obreht about the enduring myths of the Wild West. Read more.
Under the Falls by Richard Russo (Knopf)
This gripping and grounded tale of friendship and self-delusion takes place in rough-and-tumble Stone Mountain, N.Y., a small town in the Adirondacks that’s less like its upscale, tourist-destination neighbors and more like the Rust Belt communities Russo portrayed in his early novels such as Mohawk. Read more.
The Maltese Version by Katy Simpson Smith (FSG)
Smith follows The Weeds with a stimulating and slippery anti-detective novel featuring a travel writer, her missing boyfriend, a mysterious poet, and another travel writer dispatched to find out what’s going on. Read more.
A Very Special Episode by Camille Acker (Random House)
A shadowy organization offers to help a young heir to one of Washington, D.C.’s most influential Black institutions in this sly social commentary on the interplay of race, class, and family legacy.
The Breakup by Kurt Andersen (Random House)
Andersen chronicles the aftermath of a near-future American civil war—Civil War II—in this moving satire. Read more.
Hello Baby by Kim Eui-Kyung, tr. Sora Russell (Hogarth)
Switching between six characters undergoing IVF—a journalist, a police officer, a vet, a lawyer, and two housewives—this thought-provoking novel explores the social pressure and emotional strain put on women struggling to conceive.
Jolt by Ted Scheinman (Scribner)
Scheinman's memoir of depression chronicles his intensive course of electroconvulsive therapy, which came at the price of many of his most important memories.
Range by Dorthe Nors; tr. Caroline Waight (Graywolf)
Nors's novel follows a professor of astrophysics who has taken a leave from the institute where she teaches and moved to a rural area, kicking off a meditation on space, time, identity, and consciousness.
Unprecedented Times by Malavika Kannan (Holt)
In the tender and sharp-witted adult debut from YA novelist Kannan, an Indian American undergrad explores an alternative path for her life during Covid-19. Read more.
Crocodilopolis by John Manuel Arias (Bloomsbury)
A Costa Rican dynasty’s lust for power drives this lush and suspenseful saga from Arias. Read more.
Jacaranda by Gaël Faye, tr. Sarah Ardizzone (Hogarth)
Faye offers a nuanced if tonally uneven story of a young Frenchman reckoning with the history of Rwanda, his mother’s native country. Read more.
Daytona Teddy Riggs by Drew Buxton (Hub City)
A bumbling muscle-bound Texan pursues his dreams of competing in the World’s Strongest Man contest and losing his virginity in this hilarious debut from Buxton. Read more.
Reality TV for Snobs by Ali Barthwell (Quirk)
Barthwell's guide to the 20 most influential reality shows of the last 25 years aims to "turn skeptics into fans and fans into scholars."
The Anniversary by Andrea Bajani, tr. Geoffrey Brock (Other)
The narrator of this poignant Strega Prize–winning novel from Bajani traces the causes and effects of his father’s physical and emotional abuse on his family. Read more.
Goodbye, Ramona by Montserrat Roig, tr. Megan Berkobian and María Cristina Hall (Modern Library)
The debut novel by Roig, a titan of Catalan literature, was first published in 1972 and chronicles the lives, loves, and secrets of three generations of women in 20th-century Barcelona.
Narrative of Sojourner Truth by Sojourner Truth (Modern Library)
Truth's 1850 autobiography details how she defied 19th-century conventions to become a preacher, popular speaker, abolitionist, and women’s rights activist.
The Shame Is Over by Anja Meulenbelt, tr. Ann Oosthuizen (Astra House)
Former Dutch senator Meulenbelt traces her political awakening in this unvarnished memoir, a firsthand account—equal parts heady and heartfelt—of one woman’s liberation. Read more.
The Ghost of the Mountains by Kulbhushansingh Suryawanshi (Riverhead)
Ecologist and conservationist Suryawanshi debuts with an enthralling account of efforts to study and protect snow leopards, elusive creatures that have become threatened as climate change and extractive mining impact their Himalayan habitat. Read more.
Changing Gender by Susan Stryker (FSG)
In this thought-provoking treatise, theorist Stryker forges an alternative history of gender inspired by an unlikely source: a lecture by right-wing pundit Matt Walsh. Read more.
Dèy by Edwidge Danticat (Knopf)
A Haitian American woman reckons with the cost of hiding her pain in this illuminating novel from Danticat, winner of the NBCC award for Everything Inside. Read more.
The Rise and Fall of the Artificial State by Jill Lepore (Liveright)
Society is on the precipice of “abandoning constitutional democracy…and even humanity itself for…government by machine,” warns Pulitzer winner Lepore in this powerful anti-AI treatise. Read more.
Her Own Voice by Anne Fernald (Beacon)
Using Virginia Woolf as a guide, Fernald chronicles the stories of eight wanderers, rebels, explorers, mentors, and other radical 20th-century women who forged their own paths.
I Have This Thing for Flowers by Alysia Li Ying Sawchyn (Flatiron)
Sachwyn, a creative writing professor at Bucknell University, mines her extensive plant knowledge for these introspective essays about personal relationships. Read more.
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September
O Mother by Emerson Whitney (McSweeney's)
The Daddy Boy author turns their eye to their flawed and complicated mother and the relationship they shared in this poignant memoir.
The Castle by Jon Ronson (Riverhead)
Journalist Ronson delivers a by turns amusing and harrowing report on the desultory state of contemporary men. Read more.
Tree by Aya Kōda, tr. Charlotte Goff (HarperOne)
The first-ever English translation of this Japanese classic invites us to foster peace in our lives by connecting with trees.
The Disappearers by Marlon James (Riverhead)
The Booker Prize winner’s latest—a sprawling novel clocking in at 640 pages—follows the survivors of a homophobic attack in 1980s Jamaica.
I Liked Rex by Diane Williams (NYRB Classics)
Delightful characters, curious images, and love affairs gone awry animate this minimalist metafictional collection by Williams. Read more.
The Mess That Made Them by Ryan T. Pozzi (Bloomsbury Academic)
Pozzi pushes back against our notions of "genius," arguing that the artists we revere didn't succeed because of destiny or innate brilliance, but were instead shaped by rejection, persecution, illness, and grief.
Voice of a Century by Anthony Tommasini (Penguin Press)
The former chief classical music critic for the New York Times delivers a rich tribute to Marian Anderson, one of the great singers of the modern era who also broke racial barriers.
Ambivalence by Brian Dillon (NYRB)
Critic and memoirist Dillon catalogs his adolescent coming-of-consciousness in this dazzling if remote account. Read more.
Black Arts by Megan Giddings (Amistad)
Giddings's first story collection explores complex family relationships, romances both troubled and charmed, and events that straddle the supernatural and the all-too-real.
The Chinese Lady by Bo Wang (HarperVia)
Wang’s debut novel depicts the life of Afong Moy, the first Chinese woman to be brought to the United States in the 1800s, becoming a curio in a live exhibition.
Erratica by Brian Laidlaw (Milkweed)
Inspired by Laidlaw's climb up Yosemite's stone monolith, this ode to climbing, nature, and attention is part adventure narrative and part philosophical inquiry.
The Contessa by Benedetta Craveri, tr. Alex Andriesse (NYRB)
Craveri argues that Contessa di Castiglione, an Italian aristocrat who gained notoriety as a mistress of Emperor Napoleon III, was the original “famous for being famous” It Girl in this biography.
Exit Party by Emily St. John Mandel (Knopf)
Mandel’s masterful seventh novel opens in 2031, with the United States having collapsed into warring city-states and regional republics, and expands into a dizzying story of doubles and parallel universes. Read more.
The Occidental Book of the Dead by T. Geronimo Johnson (Morrow)
The National Book Award longlisted author of Welcome to Braggsville returns with a crime novel about a Black police officer in an Atlanta precinct, who sees the "white-washed veneer" of his life begin to crack after a highly publicized murder.
About Looking by John Berger (NYRB)
Part of an ongoing reissue of Berger’s major works of criticism and fiction, this 1980 essay collection considers our role as observers to reveal new layers of meaning in what we see.
Foam by Kate Zambreno (Semiotext(e))
Zambreno's latest, an unclassifiable work inspired by Eva Hesse and other masters of "soft sculpture," explores the notions of precarity and domestic disruption across genres, textures, and time.
Justice for Jehanne by Sara McDougall (Princeton)
Centered on a sexual assault case in 15th-century France, McDougall's narrative history challenges modern assumptions about women’s lives in the Middle Ages and and uncovers one woman's story of survival.
Hafni Says by Helle Helle, tr. Martin Aitken (New Directions)
This unconventional road trip novel is told over the course of one long conversation, wherein its titular character rings up the book's narrator—a protagonist from Helle's previous novel, they—in the aftermath of her failed marriage.
Postmuslim by Youssef Rakha (Graywolf)
Rakha explores the past three decades of Islam’s clash with the West from a secular Muslim perspective, finding inspiration for the future in the multiculturalism embodied by the Ottoman Empire.
Observer by Nicholas Russell (Ecco)
In Russell's debut novel, a woman investigates her mother's disappearance at an abandoned observatory in Nevada—and uncovers cosmic horrors in the process.
Blood Money by Anna Seghers, tr. Lucy Jones (NYRB)
Seghers's novel of suspense and political upheaval, first published in the 1930s, tracks the nascent rise of the Hitler movement in a German village.
Fallow by Sarah Anderson (FSG)
The 23-year-old narrator of Anderson’s darkly funny dystopian debut, hates working at the demeaning call center where she’s employed—so she signs a 10-year contract to work at exclusive surrogacy program for executives who don’t want to take time off for pregnancy and childbirth. Read more.
Music Sets You Free by Ryuichi Sakamoto, tr. Sam Bett (HarperVia)
The godfather of electronic music delivers a meditation on making art, living life, and accepting death.
Female Life on Planet Earth by Laleh Khadivi (Ecco)
A grieving Iranian American woman processes the shocking news of her late mother’s involvement in the Iranian Revolution in this darkly funny novel.
Exhibit G by Fady Joudah (Milkweed)
The National Book Award finalist's collection of poems, essays, and photographs explores the split perspective of a Palestinian American physician caring for the sick while watching the destruction of Gaza from the United States.
Anti-Zionism by Benjamin Moser (Doubleday)
The Pulitzer Prize winner delivers a sweeping history of the oft-suppressed tradition of Jewish thinkers around the world who oppose Zionism.
Madame Composer by Sarah Fritz (Pegasus)
Fritz's biography reveals how and why Clara Weick Schumann, a giant of Romantic music who became a household name over her 60-year career, has been diminished and sometimes deliberately obscured.
The Radiance by Ayad Akhtar (Summit)
Akhtar unfurls an intense and transcendent philosophical novel, narrated by a successful Pakistani American novelist named Ayad Akhtar who has recently moved upstate from New York City, about the limits of words. Read more.
The True Confessions of First Lady Freeman by Deesha Philyaw (Mariner)
The prominent wife of a megachurch pastor reckons with her humble roots in the uproarious debut novel from Philyaw. Read more.
American Hagwon by Min Jin Lee (Cardinal)
Lee returns nine years after Pachinko with an illuminating saga of ambition, education, and familial duty. Read more.
Traumatized by Catherine Liu (Verso)
The cultural theorist explores how trauma became a weapon in the culture wars, resulting in "capitalism's greatest coup: convincing us that wounds define us and that accommodating each other’s trauma is more important than challenging the powerful."
All the Love You Can Use by Carson McCullers, ed. Carlos Dews (Mariner)
The first and only comprehensive collection of the Carson McCullers's letters, spanning 1935 to her death in 1967, chronicle the high points and tragedies that defined her.
John Berger: From Life by Tom Overton (Verso)
This biography by Overton, who catalogued Berger's papers for the British Library, grew from the discovery, shortly after the novelist and critic's death in 2017, of a complete untouched archive of his 1960s life and work.
Something Followed Us Home ed. Cynthia Pelayo (Primero Sueño)
For this solid anthology, Bram Stoker Award winner Pelayo brings together 17 fascinating shorts by Latinx horror authors, all of which are bite-size, easy to get into, and span a wide range of subgenres. Read more.
The Weight of Angels by John Boyne (Holt)
Boyne delivers a witty alternate history of Oscar Wilde, who, instead of dying in 1900 at 46, enjoys an influential life of letters into the 1950s. Read more.
The Millions’ Great Spring 2026 Book Preview
As we slowly recover from one belligerent winter, we can look to spring as a time of growth, renewal, abundance—and nothing could be more abundant than the season's noteworthy books. Below, you’ll find 140 titles out this spring that we’re excited about here at The Millions. Some we’ve already read in galley form; others we’re simply eager to dive into based on their authors or subjects. We leaned on our friends at Publishers Weekly to help blurb some of the many, many titles that we’re eager to put on your radar.
—Sophia Stewart, editor
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April
Transcription by Ben Lerner (FSG)
In the beautiful and resonant latest from Lerner, a middle-aged man constructs an elaborate farewell to his mentor. Read more.
One Leg on Earth by ‘Pemi Aguda (Norton)
The marvelous debut novel from National Book Award finalist Aguda follows a young woman whose arrival in Lagos for an exciting career opportunity coincides with a series of harrowing suicides by pregnant women. Read more.
Work to Do by Jules Wernersbach (University of Iowa Press)
Wernersbach's debut follows a queer-owned Austin co-op as it prepares to unionize amid Texas hurricane season.
The Ritz of the Bayou by Nancy Lemann (Hub City)
The 1985-86 trials of Louisiana’s flamboyant Gov. Edwin Edwards on charges of crooked hospital deals and other racketeering is compellingly reported by Lemann, a New Orleans–born author with a New York City perspective. Read more.
Gather by Ashanté M. Reese (Norton)
In this phenomenal meditation on food’s role in Black history and culture, anthropologist Reese shares guiding principles gleaned from Black social gatherings that can help combat hunger and food insecurity. Read more.
Ghost Town by Tom Perrotta (Scribner)
A middle-aged man makes peace with his childhood trauma in Perrotta’s stellar latest. Read more.
Inheritance by Jane Park (Pegasus)
Upon returning to Canada for her father’s funeral, a young woman must confront her childhood and the legacy of guilt, sacrifice, and resilience that accompanies the immigrant experience.
London Falling by Patrick Radden Keefe (Doubleday)
“The truth is, everybody lies,” observes New Yorker staff writer and National Book Critics Circle award winner Keefe in this gripping investigation into a young man’s mysterious death in 2019 London. Read more.
Last Night in Brooklyn by Xochitl Gonzalez (Flatiron)
In her third novel, the author reimagines The Great Gatsby as a story of 2007 Fort Greene, with women in the male roles and vice versa. Read more.
Fourteen Ways of Looking by Erin Vincent (Deep Vellum)
Vincent parses and probes the death of her parents in a traffic accident when she was 14 years old through artfully arranged fragments—most of which contain the number 14.
My Dear You by Rachel Khong (Knopf)
In these provocative stories, Khong offers well-wrought and intricate depictions of Asian American and Asian life, often with a fantastical or speculative twist. Read more.
Empire of Skulls by Paul Stob (Counterpoint)
Stob, a professor of American studies and communication studies at Vanderbilt, casts a light on one family’s outsize role in the rise of phrenology. Read more.
Like This, But Funnier by Hallie Cantor (S&S)
When the reader meets Caroline Neumann, the TV comedy writer at the center of Cantor’s hilarious and propulsive debut, her life is in shambles. Read more.
After Oscar by Merlin Holland (Europa)
In this unique biography, Holland, Oscar Wilde’s grandson, explores the long-lasting impact of Wilde’s criminal conviction for homosexuality in London in 1895 and seeks to clear up misconceptions related to the incident. Read more.
Witches by Steven Veerapen (Pegasus)
Veerapen offers a stirring account of witches across the ages, from the witchcraft trials under King James VI to the ultimate decline of witch-hunting in the early 1700s.
The Oyster Diaries by Nancy Lemann (NYRB)
Lemann takes readers back to the world of her 1985 cult classic Lives of the Saints with an easygoing and lovely novel of late middle-age. Read more.
Picture of Nobody by Philip Owens (McNally Editions)
The forgotten modernist reimagines Shakespeare as a young writer in 1930s London in this strange, sharp satire.
Fidelty by Susan Glaspell (Belt)
First published in 1915, Glaspell’s feminist novel chronicles an affair between a woman and a married man—and how its ramifications echo across their small hometown in Iowa.
If This Be Magic by Daniel Hahn (Knopf)
Translator Hahn shows how Shakespeare’s intricate wordplay is preserved and transformed into other languages in this lively exploration. Read more.
Afternoon Hours of a Hermit by Patrick Cottrell (Ecco)
In this noir-tinged novel, a trans author returns to his childhood home after receiving a mysterious envelope in the mail with a photo of his deceased brother. Read more.
Body Double by Hanna Johansson, tr. Kira Josefsson (Catapult)
Johansson explores themes of doppelgängers, loneliness, and selfhood in her sly latest. Read more.
Wifehouse by Sonya Walger (Union Square)
Through shifting perspectives, Walger offers a nuanced portrait of a woman who embarks on an affair with her much-younger French tutor.
Starstruck by Christopher McDougall (Vintage)
McDougall delivers a propulsive, horrifying account of the sexual abuse scandal involving Mexican pop singer Gloria Trevi and her manager, Sergio Andrade, which he previously covered in 2001’s Girl Trouble. Read more.
Visitations by Julia Alvarez (Knopf)
In her prismatic fourth collection, novelist, memoirist, and poet Alvarez spins richly detailed micro-narratives of her childhood in the Dominican Republic in the 1950s, her young adulthood in New York City, and beyond. Read more.
A Private Man by Stephanie Sy-Quia (Grove)
A vivacious woman falls in love with a priest in 1950s England in the emotive and revelatory debut novel from poet Sy-Quia. Read more.
The Madness of Believing by Josh Owens (Grand Central)
Owens, who dropped out of film school at 24 to accept a job offer from Infowars, reflects on his fall into a world of conspiracy theories, propaganda, and disinformation—and what it means for the rest of us.
Leave Your Mess at Home by Tolani Akinola (Pamela Dorman)
Akinola’s debut takes a closer look at the American Dream through four siblings who reunite at their Nigerian immigrant parents’ Thanksgiving table after a decade apart.
How Black Music Took Over the World by Melvin Gibbs (Basic)
The intricate rhythms and protean harmonies of Africa lie at the heart of most modern music, according to this exuberant debut study. Read more.
The Witch by Marie NDiaye, tr. Jordan Stump (Knopf)
Witchcraft and family strife animate this 1996 novel by NDiaye, winner of the Prix Goncourt for Three Strong Women. Read more.
Midnight, at the War by Devi S. Laskar (Mariner)
Combining the drama of newsrooms, global conflicts, and personal strife, Laskar’s novel follows a foreign correspondent as she is dispatched to the war-torn Middle East in the aftermath of 9/11.
Famesick by Lena Dunham (Random House)
In her latest memoir, the writer and director contends with her swift, and often turbulent, rise to fame across three acts.
Ultranatural by Candice Wuehle (University of Iowa Press)
Wuehle’s latest sees a pop idol forced to confront her small-town past in Appalachia—and the friendship that first threatened her rise to stardom years before.
The Palm House by Gwendoline Riley (NYRB)
From the author of My Phantoms and First Love comes a slender, subtle meditation on friendships and how they endure during times of strife.
Surrender by Jennifer Acker (Delphinium)
Unfolding across the bountiful fields of New England, this bildungsroman follows a 47-year-old goat farmer as she reunites with her high school best friend—and realizes she wants more from her than just friendship. Read more.
Dear Monica Lewinsky by Julia Langbein (Doubleday)
For Jean Dornan, the protagonist of Langbein’s incandescent sophomore novel whose life is still in shambles following a toxic relationship with her college professor almost two decades earlier, it feels like “#MeToo had come and gone like a parade two streets over.” Read more.
American Spirits by Anna Dorn (S&S)
Dorn spins an enjoyable if chaotic satire of celebrity culture and the dark side of fandom. Just like its characters, this is messy and appealing in equal measure. Read more.
Talking Classics by Mary Beard (UChicago Press)
In her newest book, the renowned classicist considers our ongoing fascination with the ancient world and the role of antiquity in the popular imagination.
The First Emancipation by Jeremy D. Popkin (Princeton University Press)
Popkin expertly traces the influence of race on the French Revolution, charting how France became the first western country to abolish slavery throughout its empire—only to return many formerly enslaved people to bondage years later.
How It Feels to Be Alive by Megan O'Grady (FSG)
Critic and essayist O'Grady looks closely at five artworks and the circumstances of their creation, testing Barbara Kruger’s assertion that art offers the “ability to show and tell ... how it feels to be alive.”
The Memory Museum by M Lin (Graywolf)
Lin debuts with a perceptive story collection about the unsettled lives of characters who were born in China and are now scattered around the world. Read more.
Small Boat by Vincent Delecroix, tr. Helen Stevenson (Mariner)
A French coast guard officer confronts the existential dilemma of her job in the thought-provoking English-language debut by novelist and philosopher Delecroix. Read more.
Tosquelles: Healing Institutions by Francesc Tosquelles, tr. Robert Hurley and Mara Faye Lethem (Semiotext(e))
This rigorous anthology, the first of its kind, gathers the Catalan psychiatrist’s intellectual, clinical, and political writings, many of which have yet to appear in English.
Concert Black by Michael O'Donnell (Blackstone)
In this twisty novel, a biographer doggedly pursues a legendary but elusive conductor who is determined to thwart her efforts, setting them on a dramatic collision course.
Israel: What Went Wrong? by Omer Bartov (FSG)
American-Israeli Holocaust scholar Bartov offers a powerful meditation on his birth country’s turn toward violence. Read more.
Small Town Girls by Jayne Anne Phillips (Knopf)
Pulitzer-winning novelist Phillips takes a lyrical look at her West Virginia upbringing in this wonderful memoir-in-essays. Read more.
Exemplary Humans by Juliana Leite, tr. Zoë Perry (Two Lines)
In Leite’s ambitious English-language debut, a 100-year-old woman revisits her past, all while believing that a spy is watching her through her window.
American Men by Jordan Ritter Conn (Grand Central)
This immersive account from Ringer senior staff writer Conn profiles four American men whose lives uniquely tangle with an “inherited masculine ideal.” Read more.
Muskism by Quinn Slobodian and Ben Tarnoff (Harper)
In this searing analysis of Elon Musk, historian Slobodian and tech journalist Tarnoff argue that, just as Fordism “was the operating system” of the 20th century, “Muskism” is that of the 21st. Read more.
Middlemen by Laura B. McGrath (Princeton University Press)
McGrath, an English professor at Temple University, debuts with an enlightening study of how agents have shaped the American literary landscape. Read more.
When the World Sleeps by Francesca Albanese (Other Press)
“I am writing these words at a strange moment in my life: I have just been sanctioned by the United States.... for the absurd ‘crime’ of allegedly working with the International Criminal Court,” begins this incisive, heart-wrenching account from UN special rapporteur Albanese. Read more.
Questions 27 & 28 by Karen Tei Yamashita (Graywolf)
In this innovative polyphonic novel, Yamashita blends archival documents with fictional flourishes to chronicle the detention, forced removal, and conscription of Japanese Americans during WWII. Read more.
All Flesh by Ananda Devi (FSG)
At the beginning of this sensual and provocative novel by Mauritian writer Devi, the unnamed but unforgettable narrator announces she’s about to livestream her own “sacrifice.” Read more.
Mrs. Benedict Arnold by Emma Parry (Zando)
Parry debuts with a reimagining of the life of Peggy Shippen, wife of that infamous turncoat, as she navigates the political currents of the American Revolution and conspires to commit treason.
Fat Swim by Emma Copley Eisenberg (Hogarth)
The protagonists of this glittering story collection from Eisenberg grapple with the messiness of desire and their relationship to their bodies as queer and fat people. Read more.
Presence by Erin Maglaque (Astra House)
Maglaque's sweeping history of women's bodies braids personal experience with scholarship to probe the ways the female form has been politicized through sex, abortion, pregnancy, caregiving, and labor.
Aside from My Heart, All is Well by Héctor Abad, tr. Anne McLean (Archipelago)
Colombian author Abad follows The Farm with a mesmerizing chronicle of Luis Cordóba, an opera-loving priest and film critic, based loosely on the life of Luis Alberto Alvarez (1945–1996). Read more.
The Book That Taught the World to Orgasm and Then Disappeared by Rosa Campbell (Melville House)
Historian Campbell debuts with a revelatory biography of sex researcher Shere Hite (1942–2020), best known for her 1976 publication, The Hite Report. Read more.
*
May
Keeper of My Kin by Ada Ferrer (Scribner)
Pulitzer winner Ferrer traces the impact of her family’s migration in this wrenching account. Read more.
Patient, Female by Julie Schumacher (Milkweed)
This shrewd short story collection explores the messy, mundane realities of both girl- and womanhood from every possible angle.
Honey by Imani Thompson (Random House)
Thompson debuts with the scintillating tale of a disillusioned Cambridge University PhD student who goes on a killing spree. Read more.
Abundance by Hafeez Lakhani (Counterpoint)
Lakhani’s perceptive debut follows the fates and fortunes of an Indian American family facing an impending loss. Read more.
A Little Bit Bad by Cassandra Neyenesch (Summit)
Neyenesch’s darkly funny debut splices a murder mystery with a torrid extramarital affair between a sleep-deprived new mother and her roofer. Read more.
Ugly: A Letter to My Daughter by Stephanie Fairyington (Pantheon)
Journalist Fairyington examines beauty standards and reflects on her meandering road to self-acceptance in her bold debut. Read more.
Five Weeks in the Country by Francine Prose (Harper)
Hans Christian Andersen visits Charles Dickens and his family in this revealing novel from Prose. Read more.
Violent Phenomena, ed. Kavita Bhanot and Jeremy Tiang (HarperVia)
Across 22 essays by established and emerging translators alike, this captivating anthology proposes radical alternatives to the act of literary translation, all while grappling with its imperial legacies.
The Hill by Harriet Clark (FSG)
Clark blends vivid Kafkaesque motifs with a whimsical coming-of-age narrative in her beautiful debut. Read more.
The Fifth Year by Marlen Haushofer, tr. Shaun Whiteside (New Directions)
Four-year-old Marili learns about life and death and discovers the beauty of the natural world in this deeply perceptive and sensuous 1951 novella from Austrian writer Haushofer. Read more.
John of John by Douglas Stuart (Grove)
Booker Prize winner Stuart showcases his impressive gift for characterization in this perceptive and propulsive story of a tight-knit community of Gaelic-speaking sheep farmers and weavers on the remote Scottish isle of Harris. Read more.
Take a Picture, It Will Last Longer by Brooke DiDonato (Thames & Hudson)
This monograph collects the photographer’s surrealist images, which distort and reimagine familiar and domestic spaces.
Ghost Stories by Siri Hustvedt (S&S)
“I am alive. My husband, Paul Auster, is dead,” writes Hustvedt in the opening sentences of this tender tribute to Baumgartner author Auster, who died of lung cancer in 2024. Read more.
Adrift in the South by Xiao Hai (Granta)
Xai's memoir lays bare the realities of migrant labor in 21st-century China, from the alienation of the factory floor to the hope found in telling one's story.
A Siege of Owls by Uchenna Awoke (Catapult)
Nigerian author Awoke offers a captivating and magic-fueled adventure set in contemporary Africa. Read more.
The Lost Soldiers by Andrey Kurkov, tr. Boris Dralyuk (HarperVia)
The difficulty of solving crimes in a war-ravaged city is at the core of Ukrainian novelist Kurkov’s excellent third mystery featuring novice police investigator Samson Kolechko. Read more.
The Foursome by Christina Baker Kline (Mariner)
Orphan Train author Kline offers a daring and deeply empathetic tale of the sisters who married conjoined twins Chang and Eng Bunker (1811–1874). Read more.
Seek Immediate Shelter by Vincent Yu (Flatiron)
Residents of an Asian American community in Western Massachusetts respond in consequential ways to a false alert of a “ballistic missile threat” in Yu’s resonant debut. Read more.
Memory House by Elaine Kraf (Modern Library)
In this arresting posthumous novel from Kraf, who died in 2013, washed-up writer Marlane Frack attends a mysterious retreat for former artists. Read more.
The Lost Book of Lancelot by John Glynn (Grand Central)
The entertaining debut novel from memoirist Glynn puts a queer spin on Arthurian legend. Read more.
American Rambler by Isaac Fitzgerald (Knopf)
In this lyrical travelogue, memoirist Fitzgerald recounts a yearlong journey he took from Massachusetts to Indiana that was inspired by his childhood love of Johnny Appleseed. Read more.
Night Train by Xu Zechen, tr. Jeremy Tiang (Two Lines)
Hoping for a vacation before beginning his PhD program, an erratic student concocts a story about killing someone and needing to flee in Xu's latest novel.
America, U.S.A.: How Race Shadows the Nation’s Anniversaries by Eddie S. Glaude Jr. (Crown)
Bestseller Glaude offers a forceful counternarrative to the official commemoration of America’s 250th anniversary by surveying the horrors attendant to some of the nation’s previous anniversaries. Read more.
Kitchen Venom by Philip Hensher (McNally Editions)
First published three decades ago, this inventive novel unravels the scandals that wracked Margaret Thatcher’s government through the eyes of the Iron Lady herself.
Electric Shamans at the Festival of the Sun by Mónica Ojeda, tr. Sarah Booker (Coffee House)
Ojeda delivers an intense and remarkable polyphonic hymn to the consoling and destructive power of music. Read more.
What's So Great About Great Books? by Naomi Kanakia (Princeton University Press)
The novelist and literary blogger makes the case that, despite their frequent difficulty and contentiousness, reading the “Great Books” is not only beneficial but necessary.
Attention-Seeking Behavior by Aea Varfis-van Warmelo (Graywolf)
In this genre-defying novel, an self-identified liar spins tales of love and betrayal, while we readers attempt to parse whether she’s telling the truth, or just looking for attention.
On Witness and Respair by Jesmyn Ward (Scribner)
The two-time National Book Award winner's creative nonfiction is collected here, from her most beloved essays to never-before-published speeches.
The Danger to Be Sane by Rosa Montero, tr. Lindsey Ford (Europa)
In this unique exploration, Spanish journalist and novelist Montero unpacks the relationship between creativity and madness. Read more.
How to Rule the World by Theo Baker (Penguin)
In this incendiary account, debut author Baker details how a tip he received as a freshman student journalist at Stanford University led to the resignation of university president Marc Tessier-Lavigne. Read more.
Memory Rehearsal by Eleni Sikelianos (City Lights)
Mixing poetry, prose, and archival materials, this hybrid text excavates the legacy of the author’s great-grandmother, classical Greek revivalist Eva Palmer.
The Land and Its People by David Sedaris (Little, Brown)
Humorist Sedaris returns with a funny and heartfelt essay collection on friendship, family, and aging. These essays are among the best of his career. Read more.
Glyph by Ali Smith (Pantheon)
Booker finalist Smith offers a clever and enjoyable companion piece to her 2025 novel, Gliff. Read more.
Artifacts by Natalie Lemle (S&S)
A repatriation case against a New York City museum forces a lawyer to revisit troubling memories from her college summer abroad in Lemle’s suspenseful debut. Read more.
I Would Die If I Were You by Emily Rapp Black (Counterpoint)
In her latest memoir, Rapp Black draws on two decades of teaching to meditate on disability, grief, and empathy across art.
Binary Star by Sarah Gerard (Seven Stories)
A teacher in training struggles with anorexia and a troubled relationship throughout this new paperback edition of Gerard’s 2015 debut novel in verse. Read more.
Lost Worlds by Patrick Wyman (Harper)
Historian Wyman upends myths about the rise of civilization in this profound and enchanting study. Read more.
Tarantula by Eduardo Halfon, trans. by Daniel Hahn (Bellevue Literary)
Guatemalan writer Halfon reflects on his time at a nightmarish summer camp in this resonant autofiction. Read more.
Mare by Emily Haworth-Booth (FSG)
A woman develops an all-consuming infatuation with the mare she leases part-time in Haworth-Booth’s alluring first novel.
It’s Hard to be an Animal by Robert Isaacs (Grand Central)
Riffing on Doctor Doolittle, the exciting and hilarious debut from Isaacs follows a 28-year-old New Yorker who suddenly develops the ability to hear what animals are saying. Read more.
Helen Levitt by Joshua Chuang (Thames & Hudson)
This groundbreaking survey catalogs the work of American photographer Helen Levitt (1913-2009), who, across six decades, captured the streets of her native New York City with startling intimacy.
Hope House by Joe Bond (Hub City)
Bond’s gut-punch of a debut centers on Hope House, a Kentucky group home for a motley crew of boys who, in the 1980s, don’t have much of a future ahead of them—most likely prison, living on the streets, or worse. Read more.
Pretend You're Dead and I'll Carry You by Julián Delgado Lopera (Norton)
Delgado Lopera dives into Colombia’s taboo queer culture in this scintillating narrative of a man torn between belonging and self-expression. Read more.
The Vivisectors by Missouri Williams (MCD)
In the hypnotic sophomore outing from Williams, a professor’s personal assistant gets drawn into a strange triangle with her boss and a male student. Read more.
The Story of Marie Powell, Wife to John Milton by Robert Graves (Seven Stories)
This reissue of Graves’s 1943 classic delves into the life of Marie Powell, who, at 16 years old, was pushed into marrying one of England’s greatest epic poets.
Spawning Season by Joseph Osmundson (Bloomsbury)
Biophysicist Osmundson blends memoir and science writing in this moving meditation on queer family, the climate crisis, and 21st-century child-rearing. Read more.
No God But Us by Bobuq Sayed (Harper)
Sayed’s impressive debut tells the parallel stories of two gay men who meet in 2015 Istanbul. Read more.
The Disease of Boredom by Josefa Ros Velasco, tr. Kyle Rosen (Princeton University Press)
In this thought-provoking historical account, Ros Velasco, a professor at the Complutense University of Madrid, demystifies a misunderstood emotion.
Prophecies by Chrisopher Dell (Thames & Hudson)
Across nine richly illustrated chapters, art historian Dell reveals how we've grappled with the future and its attendant uncertainties through the divine, the occult, and the supernatural.
And, How Have You Been by Maria Judite de Carvalho, tr. Margaret Jull Costa (Two Lines)
This collection gathers the late stories of the Portuguese author (1921-1998), known for her incisive prose and finely-tuned portraits of women, translated into English for the first time.
*
June
Whistler by Anne Patchett (Harper)
Patchett follows 2023’s Tom Lake with another perfectly executed and quietly profound family drama. Read more.
The Children by Melissa Albert (Morrow)
The 30-something daughter of a famous novelist looks back on her traumatic Vermont childhood in the eerie and assured adult debut from YA author Albert. Read more.
The Hidden History of Conspiracy Theory by Andrew McKenzie-McHarg (Princeton University Press)
From Machiavelli to QAnon, this incisive account charts how the conspiracy theories have evolved—and remained the same—throughout the centuries.
My Year in Paris with Gertrude Stein by Deborah Levy (FSG)
A transplanted Londoner in contemporary Paris struggles to write an essay on Gertrude Stein in this arch novel from Levy. Read more.
Meeting New People by Daniel M. Lavery (HarperVia)
Following Women’s Hotel, Lavery returns with a novel about a 50-something, twice-divorced woman looking back on the dissolution of the nine best friendships of her life.
Cut Out by Fiona Rogers (Thames & Hudson)
Complete with 200 color illustrations, this comprehensive volume explores the relationship between photography, feminist art, and collage through the collection of the V&A.
Good-Bye by Osamu Dazai, tr. Ralph McCarthy (New Directions)
This new collection of eleven short stories and vignettes, many never before translated into English, is sure to appeal to the rabid fanbase of the Japanese writer (1909–1948), best known for his portraits of despair.
1873 by Liaquat Ahamed (Penguin)
The latest from the Pulitzer Prize–winning financial historian reckons with the fraught legacy of the Rothschilds and the famous banking family's role in one of the world’s worst economic collapses.
It’s All River by Carla Madeira, tr. Alison Entrekin (Liveright)
In this taut narrative, the Brazilian writer offers the story of a prostitute caught in a twisted love triangle—and the destruction it leaves in its wake.
Like a Cat Loves a Bird by James Bailey (Princeton University Press)
Bailey's stylish biography traces the arc of Spark’s life and literary career, both of which spanned nearly the entire 20th century.
Bone Horn by Prudence Bussey-Chamberlain (Soft Skull)
Picasso once quipped that Alice B. Toklas's bangs hid the stump of a horn—and in Bussey-Chamberlain's queer detective novel, a newly registered private investigator attempts to track it down.
Freedom by Zinzi Clemmons (Viking)
The electrifying nonfiction debut from novelist Clemmons muses on the thorny concept of freedom in “a world buckling from the consequences of centuries of interlocking injustices.” Read more.
A Sense of Occasion by Brodie Crellin (Riverhead)
The British novelist's debut sees a dysfunctional family reunite in a small English village for their matriarch's funeral over a sweltering summer weekend.
Quake by Kitty Mrosovky (McNally Editions)
Mrosovsky, who died in 1995, weaves a sensuous tale of female desire—unpublished in her life time—in which a woman grows increasingly enamored with her younger Italian lover.
Rasputin Swims the Potomac by Ben Fountain (Flatiron)
Fountain's satire imagines an alternate reality not that far from our own, complete with a mysterious pandemic, a desperate president, and a pro wrestler thrust into the political limelight.
Two Ships by David S. Reynolds (Penguin)
Reynolds maps the how the arrival of two ships—The White Lion, which brought the first enslaved Africans to Jamestown in 1619, and the Mayflower, which brought the Pilgrims to Plymouth Rock in 1620—set the stage for centuries of American polarization.
Pool House by Mary H.K. Choi (Flatiron)
At the heart of Choic's adult debut is the tense relationship between a mother and daughter, both of whom live in their backyard pool house while renting out their main home to pay the bills.
Empire of Ink by Alex Wright (Basic)
Wright's history traces the rise of the American newspaper from the Revolutionary War through to the 20th century, and the radical spirit behind its inception.
On the Other Side Is March by Sólrún Michelsen, tr. Marita Thomsen (Transit)
A middle-aged woman adjusts to being a grandmother and caretaker for her own mother in the wake of her father’s death, in the poignant English-language debut from Michelsen—the first female Faroese writer to ever appear in the language. Read more.
Dodsworth by Sinclair Lewis (S&T Classics)
Lewis’s 1929 satire, about millionaire auto manufacturer whose marriage is imperiled by his wife's European vacation, returns in a new edition with insights from scholars Nissa Ren Cannon and Sheila Liming.
There’s Only One Sin in Hollywood by Rasheed Newson (Flatiron)
The My Government means to Kill Me author returns with a novel set in 1950s Hollywood and propelled by the untimely death of a young Black movie star.
The Summer of the Serpent by Cecilia Eudave, tr. Robin Meyers (Soho Press)
Set during a sweltering summer in 1977, this fragmented novel takes a surrealist tack to excavate the secrets of a quiet, residential neighborhood in Guadalajara.
The Perfect Moment by Isaac Butler (Bloomsbury)
The National Book Critics Circle Award–Winner returns with a smart cultural history of today's culture wars, arguing that their origins lie in a 1988 attempt by Pat Buchanan and other conservatives to stir up moral panic about contemporary artists like Robert Mapplethorpe.
The Narrow Road of Oku by Bashō, tr. Meredith McKinney (New Directions)
McKinney's translation breathes new life the Edo-era poet's now-famous travelogue chronicling his pilgrimage from Tokyo to Lake Biwa.
Cleanup on Aisle Five by Ann Larson (One Signal)
This illuminating debut chronicle turns Larson’s pandemic-era stint as a grocery worker into a rallying cry against corporate greed. Read more.
Without Terminus by Chaun Webster (Graywolf)
In his first work of nonfiction, the poet braids together memoir, archival research, visual poetics, and cultural criticism to explore anti-Black violence, inheritance, and memory, as well as his own grandfather's experience as a Pullman porter.
I’ll Take the Fire by Leila Slimani (Penguin)
Slimani's autobiographical coming-of-age novel follows a woman who, after growing up in socially conservative Morocco, embarks on a quest for political and sexual freedom.
The Cruelty of Nice Folks by Justin Ellis (Harper)
In this penetrating and moving debut, journalist Ellis examines past and present African American life in his hometown of Minneapolis. Read more.
Shakespeare’s Margaret by Charles O’Malley and Scott W. Stern (Norton)
Theater critic O’Malley and lawyer Stern assemble an enthralling history of Shakespeare’s portrayal of Margaret of Anjou, who married Henry VI at 14 and ruled during the War of Roses. Read more.
Trash! A Garbageman’s Story by Simon Pare-Poupart, tr. Pablo Strauss (Melville House)
“The garbageman is the Sisyphus of our consumer society, condemned to go from house to house picking up bags, swept along day after day in the never-ending flow of refuse we produce,” writes Montréal sanitation worker Pare-Poupart in his bewitching debut memoir. Read more.
The Sixth Nik by Daniel Kraus (Saga)
This galaxy-spanning adventure follows a nine-year-old cultist with a tech-enhanced brain as boards a mysterious spaceship to investigate an even more mysterious planet.
Weimar by Katja Hoyer (Basic)
Following her history of East Germany, the historian and journalist returns with a sprawling chronicle of interwar Germany, as told through the town of Weimar—which, Hoyer notes, was both the site of the country's first democracy and the first place Nazis were welcomed into local government.
The Millions’ Great Winter 2026 Preview
Winter demands that we slow down, take stock, rest. And while we hibernate, books can keep us company. Luckily, this season, there are plenty of noteworthy new reads to fill these cold, short days.
Below, you’ll find 100 titles out this winter that we’re excited about here at The Millions. Some we’ve already read in galley form; others we’re simply eager to dive into based on their authors or subjects. We leaned on our friends at Publishers Weekly to help blurb some of the many, many titles that we’re eager to put on your radar.
The Millions is, alas, still on hiatus, but we’re determined to continue bringing you our seasonal Most Anticipated previews in the interim (if a bit belatedly).
—Sophia Stewart, editor
*
January
Call Me Ishmaelle by Xiaolu Guo (Black Cat)
NBCC Award winner Guo delivers a spectacular retelling of Moby-Dick, in which she recasts Ishmael as a 17-year-old girl and Ahab as a Black freedman named Seneca who’s battling the “white devil.” Read more.
Philosophy of Writing by David Arndt (Bloomsbury Academic)
In his latest, the comparative literature professor proposes new frameworks through which to understand writing not just as a craft, but as a philosophical undertaking.
Nothing Random by Gayle Feldman (Random House)
This cinematic biography of Random House founder Bennett Cerf from longtime PW writer Feldman teems with a star-studded cast including Truman Capote, James Joyce, Alfred Knopf, Ayn Rand, and Dick Simon. Read more.
Palinuro of Mexico by Fernando del Paso, tr. Elizabeth Plaister (Dalkey Archive)
Virgil's Palinurus was Aeneas's helmsman who fell victim to the god of sleep; his namesake in this complex, beautiful novel, is also a guide to a novel that straddles the conscious and subconscious, life and death. Read more.
The Last of Earth by Deepa Anappara (Random House)
Edgar winner Anappara offers a vivid narrative of two 1869 expeditions into Tibet at a time when it was still closed off to outsiders and its rivers and mountains were mostly uncharted. Read more.
Fire Sword and Sea by Vanessa Riley (Morrow)
Riley’s exciting latest follows a young Haitian woman’s fight against slavery and her turn toward piracy. Read more.
We Would Have Told Each Other Everything by Judith Hermann, tr. Katy Derbyshire (FSG)
In this deeply affecting English-language debut, German writer Hermann reflects on the connections between art and experience, delving into her protagonist’s family history in West Germany and the relationships that shaped her life. Read more.
The Hitch by Sara Levine (Roxane Gay)
Levine serves up a bizarre and mordantly funny tale of a six-year-old who might be possessed by a dead corgi. Read more.
This Is Where the Serpent Lives by Daniyal Mueenuddin (Knopf)
Mueenuddin’s lavish sophomore effort spans six decades and traces the lives of a wealthy Pakistani clan and those who work for them. Read more.
The School of Night by Karl Ove Knausgaard, tr. Martin Aitken (Penguin)
In Knausgaard’s ingenious fourth entry in the Morning Star series, a self-absorbed Norwegian photographer strikes a Faustian bargain in exchange for success. Read more.
The Snakes That Ate Florida by Ian Frazier (FSG)
In this substantial yet brisk collection, essayist and humorist Frazier compiles highlights from his half-century career at the New Yorker and other outlets. Read more.
Strangers: A Memoir of Marriage by Belle Burden (Dial)
Immigration lawyer Burden traces the exhilarating start and excruciating dissolution of her two-decade marriage in this bruising debut. Read more.
Pedro the Vast by Simón López Trujillo (Algonquin)
In Trujillo’s equally heady and thrilling sci-fi debut, panic attack–prone mycologist Giovanna Oddó is summoned to a provincial Chilean hospital to consult on a strange case of “lethal blight” believed to be caused by the mushroom Cryptococcus gatti. Read more.
The Old Fire by Elisa Shua Dusapin, tr. Aneesa Abbas Higgins (Summit)
In the quietly affecting latest from Dusapin, two sisters reunite to clear out their family home in the French countryside. Read more.
Discipline by Larissa Pham (Random House)
Pham, author of the memoir Pop Song, turns to fiction with the dazzling story of an art critic who publishes a novel about the former professor who rejected her after their affair. Read more.
Eating Ashes by Brenda Navarro, tr. Megan McDowell (Norton)
The grieving unnamed narrator of Mexican writer Navarro’s spellbinding U.S. debut ruminates on the effects of migration. Read more.
Scale Boy by Patrice Nganang (FSG)
In this gorgeous memoir, Cameroonian novelist Nganang chronicles his coming of age in the 1970s and ’80s and his decision to pursue a literary life. Read more.
Fanny Hill: Or, Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure by John Cleland (Unnamed)
Banned from publication in the U.S. until 1966, Cleland’s erotic novel from 1749 offers an account of a woman’s early days of prostitution in 18th-century London.
Iconophages by Jérémie Koering, tr. Nicholas Huckle (Princeton UP)
In this adroit English-language debut, Koering, an art history professor at the University of Fribourg in Switzerland, surveys the long and surprising tradition of how “figured representations” have been ritualistically consumed. Read more.
One Aladdin Two Lamps by Jeanette Winterson (Grove)
Critic and fiction writer Winterson anchors this dazzling memoir-in-essays in her childhood obsession with One Thousand and One Nights, the collection of Middle Eastern folktales that introduced magic lamps and flying carpets to the West. Read more.
When Trees Testify by Beronda Montgomery (Holt)
Plant biologist Montgomery mixes memoir, history, and science in this unique examination of the significance of trees in Black history. Read more.
The Flower Bearers by Rachel Eliza Griffiths (Random House)
In her stunning debut memoir, poet and novelist Griffiths details the most challenging period of her life, during which her best friend died and her husband, the author Salman Rushdie, was brutally attacked. Read more.
Crux by Gabriel Tallent (Riverhead)
This tense and staggering tale of rock climbing and family demons from Tallent explores the cost of following one’s dreams. Read more.
Beckomberga by Sara Stridsberg, tr. Deborah Bragan-Turner (FSG)
Stridsberg’s singular novel traces the history of Stockholm’s Beckomberga psychiatric asylum via wrenching stories of its patients. Read more.
How to Commit a Post-Colonial Murder by Nina McConigley (Pantheon)
McConigley follows her PEN/Open Book Award–winning collection, Cowboys and East Indians, with a witty and ultimately profound tale centered on two angsty preteens’ plot to kill their abusive uncle. Read more.
Just Watch Me by Lior Torenberg (Avid Reader)
Torenberg debuts with a bewitching tragicomedy about a young woman who takes drastic actions to raise money for her sister’s medical bills. Read more.
A Very Cold Winter by Fausta Cialente, tr. Julia Nelsen (Transit)
In this overdue translation of Cialente’s vital 1966 novel, her first to be published in English, a family struggles to find harmony while crammed together in a frigid Milan squat. Read more.
Station of the Birds by Betsy Sussler (Spuyten Duyvil)
In the author's latest, a son disinherited by his father while attending college returns to his hometown with an eye toward vengeance.
Vigil by George Saunders (Random House)
A ghost attempts to guide an unrepentant oil executive toward redemption and the afterlife in the staggering latest from Saunders. Read more.
A Hymn to Life by Gisèle Pelicot, tr. Natasha Lehrer and Ruth Diver (Penguin)
Pelicot, who first rose to prominence after waiving her right to anonymity in the court case against her husband and 50 men accused of sexually assaulting her, tells her story for the first time in this harrowing, galvanizing memoir.
Black Dahlia by William J. Mann (S&S)
Novelist and biographer Mann delivers a meticulous and humane reconsideration of one of America’s most sensationalized unsolved murders. Read more.
Rooting Interest by Cat Disabato (831 Stories)
In this sapphic sports romance from Disabato, NFL reporter Jennifer Felix is reassigned to cover WNBA All-Star Weekend, despite knowing nothing about basketball. Read more.
February
Lee and Elaine by Ann Rower (Semiotext(e))
In this second novel by Rower, the artistic and social excesses of the New York School painters—Jackson Pollock, Lee Krasner, Willem de Kooning and Elaine de Kooning—provide a welcome obsession for a painter in a midlife crisis. Read more.
The End of Romance by Lily Meyer (Viking)
Critic and translator Meyer’s sharp and sexy sophomore novel chronicles a young woman’s liberation from an abusive marriage. Read more.
Language as Liberation by Toni Morrison (Knopf)
In this series of lectures from the Nobel laureate’s tenure as a professor at Princeton, Morrison examines Black characters throughout American literature and their impact on our national imagination.
Superfan by Jenny Tinghui Zhang (Flatiron)
Zhang explores the line between fandom and idol worship in her sharp sophomore outing. Read more.
The People Can Fly by Joshua Bennett (Little, Brown)
Bennett charts the complex role of Black prodigies and gifted children in American history, including by tracking the early educations of luminaries ranging from Malcolm X to Stevie Wonder.
Second Skin by Anastasiia Fedorova (Catapult)
Toggling between memoir, reportage, social history, cultural criticism, and erotic writing, Fedorova maps the worlds of sexual fetishism and kink, considering the the forces that shape desire, and how desire shapes us.
Autobiography of Cotton by Cristina Rivera Garza, tr. Christina MacSweeney (Graywolf)
Memoirist and novelist Rivera Garza weaves labor history, environmental catastrophe, and stories of her family into a vivid tapestry. Read more.
A Killing in Cannabis by Scott Eden (Spiegel & Grau)
Investigative journalist Eden shines in this novelistic work of true crime, which opens in 2019, when deputies responded to a 911 call reporting a kidnapping in Santa Cruz, Calif., at the home of tech CEO Tushar Atre, who’d recently launched a cannabis company. Read more.
Heap Earth Upon It by Chloe Michelle Howarth (Melville House)
Howarth captures the rhythms and underlying tensions of an Irish village through the eyes of multiple characters in her alluring sophomore outing. Read more.
Ladies Almanack by Djuna Barnes (Dalkey Archive)
Barnes's trailblazing work of lesbian literature—part social satire, part Restoration pastiche, part love letter to Paris—returns nearly a century after its 1928 publication courtesy of Dalkey Archive.
The Wall Dancers by Yi-Ling Liu (Knopf)
This incisive, empathetic debut study from journalist Liu examines three decades of the internet’s evolution in China, from the mid-1990s explosion of microblogs and message boards that corresponded with the country’s increasing liberalization, to the mid-aughts raising of the Great Firewall. Read more.
Alice Baber: An Artist’s Triumph Over Tragedy by Gail Levin (Pegasus)
Levin’s biography questions why Baber—whose abstract paintings had entered into the collections of the Met, Whitney, Guggenheim, and MoMA by the time she died at 54—ultimately fell into obscurity, while also restoring the artist to her rightful place in modernist history.Scatman John by Gina Waggot (Bloomsbury Academic)
Music journalist Waggott debuts with an affectionate biography of John Larkin (1942–1999), better known as Scatman John, who rose to fame in the mid-1990s with a blend of jazz, pop, and scat-singing. Read more.
The Jills by Karen Parkman (Ballantine)
Parkman debuts with a thrilling mystery that offers an immersive view into the lives of NFL cheerleaders. Read more.
Frog by Anne Fadiman (FSG)
Essayist and reporter Fadiman reflects on her life and the ever-changing world around her in this affecting and often humorous collection. Read more.
I Hope You Find What You're Looking For by Bsrat Mezghebe (Liveright)
The nuanced debut from Mezghebe finds an Eritrean American teen seeking answers about her late father’s life as a revolutionary martyr. Read more.
This is Not About Us by Allegra Goodman (Dial)
Goodman delivers a bighearted linked story collection about a family’s travails. Read more.
One Bad Mother by Ej Dickson (Simon Element)
New York magazine writer Dickson debuts with a smart and funny exploration of what it means to be a “bad mom.” Read more.On Morrison by Namwali Serpell (Hogarth)
Serpell, a novelist and professor of English at Harvard, provides an insightful and stimulating exploration of the work of Nobel Prize winner Toni Morrison. Read more.
Queen by Birgitta Trotzig, tr. Saskia Vogel
The first in a trio of works by the legendary Swedish writer set to be translated by Vogel, this 1964 novella follows a girl named Judit and her enigmatic inner life.
Lean Cat, Savage Cat by Lauren J. Joseph (Catapult)
An artist’s bohemian existence in Berlin implodes in this exquisite novel from Joseph. Read more.
Evil Genius by Claire Oshetsky (Ecco)
Oshetsky’s potent latest dives into the volatile inner world of a young woman who fantasizes about a life beyond her abusive marriage. Read more.
Head of Household by Oliver Munday (S&S)
Munday's debut story collection mines the complexity, anxieties, and daily rituals of contemporary fatherhood.
The Writer's Room by Katie da Cunha Lewin (Princeton UP)
Literature lecturer Lewin debuts with an insightful exploration of the spaces where famous writers crafted their most influential works. Read more.
Citizenship by Daisy Hernández (Hogarth)
Hernández presents a comprehensive and timely inquiry into American citizenship, weaving together memoir, history, and cultural criticism.
Beloved Son Felix by Felix Platter, tr. Seán Jennett (McNally Editions)
In 1552, a 16-year-old Felix Platter left Switzerland to study medicine in France, documenting his daily life in a diary—and now, contemporary readers can enjoy one of the world’s earliest journals, which chronicles everything from a brush with the bubonic plague to a John Calvin speech.
A Place Both Wonderful and Strange by Scott Meslow (Running Press)
The short-lived 1990 TV series Twin Peaks cast a long cultural shadow, according to this energetic account from film critic Meslow. His diligent account of the show’s cultural legacy [is interwoven] with delightful peeks into its idiosyncratic production and the eccentric directorial style of David Lynch. Read more.
Daughter of Mother-of-Pearl by Mandy-Suzanne Wong (Graywolf)
This mesmerizing collection from novelist and essayist Wong uses observations of small invertebrates to tackle questions about selfhood, consciousness, and humans’ relationship with nature. Read more.
Everything Lost Returns by Sarah Domet (Flatiron)
In Domet’s latest page-turner, two women are united across time by the arrival of Halley’s comet.
Every Moment Is a Life, ed. susan abulhawa (One Signal)
This Arabic-English bilingual anthology compiles essays by 18 young Palestinian writers whose writing grapples with the ongoing genocide in their homeland.
The Disappearing Act by Maria Stepanova, tr. Sasha Dugdale (New Directions)
In this captivating and capacious novel from Stepanova, a 50-year-old novelist experiences a bizarre and liberating metamorphosis while in exile from her unnamed home country, which has just started a devastating war with its neighbor. Read more.
I Give You My Silence by Mario Vargas Llosa, tr. Adrian Nathan West (FSG)
Nobel laureate Llosa, who died last year, tackles Peruvian history and culture in this searching novel, published in Spanish in 2023, about the limits of idealism. Read more.
I Am the Ghost Here by Kim Samek (Dial)
Samek debuts with a striking collection of fantastical and speculative stories about conformity, technology, and the limits of bodily autonomy. Read more.
Doing Nothing by James Currie (Duke UP)
In his contribution to Duke University Press's Practices series, Currie delves into modes of being such as procrastination, resignation, and melancholia—and the unexpected opportunities these states can present.
Technology and Barbarism by Michel Nieva, tr. Rahul Bery and Daniel Hahn (Astra House)
From the author of Dengue Boy comes a probing nonfiction collection which investigates the influence of "hard" science fiction and how the genre informs our complicated relationship with technology.
The Silent Period by Francesca Manfredi, tr. by Ekin Oklap (Norton)
The elegant and witty latest from Manfredi sees an unfulfilled young woman commit to silence. Read more.
Brawler by Lauren Groff (Riverhead)
Story Prize winner Groff delivers a gorgeous collection about families transformed by desperate circumstances. Read more.
More Than Enough by Anna Quindlen (Random House)
DNA test results rattle a middle-aged New Yorker in the poignant latest from Quindlen. Read more.
Starry and Restless by Julia Cooke (FSG)
In this expansive group biography, journalist Cooke profiles three prolific mid-century female journalists and examines the impact their reporting had on both their times and their profession. Read more.
March
Dream Facades by Jack Balderrama Morley (Astra House)
Morley explores what the dwellings depicted on reality TV reveal about Americans’ deep-seated desires for safety and security.
Now I Surrender by Álvaro Enrigue, tr. Natasha Wimmer (Riverhead)
In his latest work of alternate history, Mexican novelist Enrigue delivers his most ambitious book to date—a multilayered epic of the Apache Wars. Read more.
Judy Blume: A Life by Mark Oppenheimer (Putnam)
Journalist Oppenheimer contends in this impressive biography that Judy Blume “rewired the English-speaking world’s expectations of what literature for young people could be.” Read more.
Elizabeth Cady Stanton: A Revolutionary Life by Ellen Carol DuBois (Basic)
As a historian of woman’s suffrage, DuBois paints a definitive portrait of one of the most influential leaders in the fight for American women’s right to vote.
The Complex by Karan Mahajan (Viking)
In Mahajan’s immersive third novel, a family tragedy unfolds against the backdrop of political upheaval in India. Read more.
Will This Make You Happy by Tanya Bush (Chronicle)
This hybrid memoir and cookbook from the cofounder of Cake Zine pairs more than 50 recipes with a chronicle of the year she rediscovered her joy of baking.
Seeking Sexual Freedom by Nana Darkoa Sekyiamah (S&S)
Sekyiamah profiles traditional sex practices across Africa—particularly older women and gurus who guide girls through puberty and early marital life—and argues that such open, liberated sex lives are hampered by Western norms.
A Marsh Island by Sarah Orne Jewett (S&T Classics)
Originally published in 1885, this reissue of Jewett’s idyllic classic chronicles life in a small New England coastal community through the eyes of a Manhattanite landscape painter.
Freezing Point by Anders Bodelsen (Faber)
In this sly and visionary 1969 novel from Bodelsen, reissued with a new introduction by Sophie Mackintosh, a 30-something magazine editor agrees to be cryogenically frozen until a cure is found for his terminal cancer. Read more.
Kids, Wait Till You Hear This! by Liza Minnelli (Grand Central)
The EGOT icon tells the story of her life in her debut memoir, from her four marriages to her lifelong struggle with substance use to her experience growing up as the only child of two Hollywood legends.
Voices by Frederic Prokosch (NYRB Classics)
American fantasist Prokosch's mostly made-up memoir of his childhood in Middle America and later years in the South of France, first published in 1982, returns thanks to a reissue by NYRB.
Down Time by Andrew Martin (FSG)
In Martin’s well-observed but listless third outing, a group of loosely connected 30-somethings float through the Covid-19 era, coping with cheating partners, enduring lockdown, and questioning their professional, romantic, and creative choices. Read more.
Whidbey by T Kira Madden (Mariner)
The propulsive debut novel from Madden, author of the memoir Long Live the Tribe of Fatherless Girls, explores the aftermath of child sexual abuse. Read more.
I Was Alive Here Once, ed. Sarah Coolidge (Two Lines)
This anthology, the latest installment in Two Lines' Calico series, anthology gathers ghost stories from Korea, Yemen, Poland, Japan, Uzbekistan, Iceland, Tanzania, and Thailand.
On an Inland Sea, ed. Michael Welch (Belt)
Thirty-three writers meditate on the experience of living on the Great Lakes in this anthology from Cleveland-based Belt Publishing, which promotes voices from the Rust Belt.
The Natural Way of Things by Charlotte Wood (Riverhead)
Reissued on the occasion of its tenth anniversary, this novel is allegory at its best, a phantasmagoric portrait of modern culture's sexual politics textured by psychological realism and sparing lyricism. Read more.
Partially Devoured by Daniel Kraus (Counterpoint)
Novelist Kraus offers an entertaining deep dive into George A. Romero’s classic horror film, which inspired a lifelong passion for horror, low-budget filmmaking, and Romero’s movies. Read more.
Hooked by Asako Yuzuki, tr. by Polly Barton (Ecco)
In her follow-up to Butter, Yuzuki returns with an unnerving portrait of female obsession and friendship, in which a woman develops an all-consuming fascination with a popular lifestyle blogger.
Chains of Ideas by Ibram X. Kendi (One World)
The National Book Award winner tackles the “great replacement theory,” and how it came to find its way into contemporary politics, in his latest.
My Lover the Rabbi by Wayne Koestenbaum (FSG)
Polymath Koestenbaum charts the psychosexual relationship between the narrator and his rabbi, as the two men torture, pleasure, and exploit one another.
Sisters in Yellow by Mieko Kawakami, tr. Laurel Taylor and Hitomi Yoshio (Knopf)
Kawakami unfurls a remarkable noir-tinged tale of female desperation set during the early days of the Covid-19 pandemic. Read more.
Who Killed Bambi? by Monika Fagerholm, tr. Bradley Harmon (University of Wisconsin Press)
Set in a fictional, affluent suburb of Helsinki, this nonlinear novel follows a successful realtor haunted by his role as one of four teenage rapists involved in a devastating sexual assault.
The Oldest Bitch Alive by Morgan Day (Astra House)
Day explores the nature of parasitic and symbiotic relationships in her wondrous debut, which largely follows the deterioration of a couple’s beloved French bulldog, Gelsomina. Read more.
Sydney Journals by Antigone Kefala (Transit)
This cosmopolitan collection of journal entries from the late Australian poet Antigone Kefala, who died in 2022, contains moving reflections on the tension between modern life and the life of the mind. Read more.
Python's Kiss by Louise Erdrich (Harper)
Pulitzer winner Erdrich dives deep into the American psyche in this spectacular collection. Read more.
Ruins, Child by Giada Scodellaro (New Directions)
Scodallero’s mesmerizing and challenging debut novel focuses on a film screening in a near-future intentional community of women. Read more.
The Life You Want by Adam Phillips (FSG)
In a series of interlinked essays, Phillips uses psychoanalytic and literary approaches to unveil the difficulties of fashioning—and enjoying—our lives.
American Han by Lisa Lee (Algonquin)
Lee’s debut follows a brother and sister as they confront how they once embodied—and ultimately departed from—the American myth of the “model minority.”
The News from Dublin by Colm Tóibín (Scribner)
The Irish writer’s latest story collection includes nine works of short fiction—many never-before-published—set across Ireland, Spain, and America.
A Good Person by Kirsten King (Putnam)
Screenwriter King debuts with the clever tale of a vengeful woman whose ex-boyfriend winds up dead after she casts a spell on him. Read more.
Son of Nobody by Yann Martel (Norton)
In the inspired latest from Booker winner Martel, a literature scholar discovers an alternate account of the Trojan War. Read more.
The Monroe Girls by Antoine Volodine, tr. Alyson Waters (Archipelago)
The fascinating and sardonic latest from Volodine plays out in the mind of a schizophrenic who lives in a postapocalyptic psychiatric hospital among the living and the dead. Read more.
A Year in Reading: 2025
The Millions has been on hiatus for the last year, so we've had to scale back our editorial output to just our seasonal Most Anticipated lists. But we couldn't let 2025 go by without bringing out our annual Year in Reading series, where we check in with some of the most interesting writers and thinkers working today about their noteworthy reads of the last 12 months.
This year, the series is taking a more condensed form—we asked contributors for shorter reflections, and are publishing them all simultaneously—but we hope it will nevertheless help you discover your next great book. I, for one, am newly determined to finally read some Muriel Spark—thanks, Sebastian Castillo.
—Sophia Stewart, editor
* * *
Caleb Gayle
author, Black Moses
It’s usually impossible to find time to read much during a book launch. But when a book like Shattered Dreams, Infinite Hope: A Tragic Vision of the Civil Rights Movement by Brandon Terry landed on my doorstop, I knew that I would need to make the time. In it, Terry upends our too-often romantic, or at other times, deeply ironic memories of the Civil Rights Movement. It isn’t the kind of book that one breezes through—I know I didn’t! But it is the kind of book that lingered with me, haunted how I revisit the past, and forced me to reconsider how that past informs the present. When I wasn’t reconsidering the past, I just had a blast reading Katie Yee’s Maggie; Or, a Man and a Woman Walk Into a Bar. What a fun and funny ride.
* * *
James Webster
marketing director, Deep Vellum and Dalkey Archive Press
I’ll be honest, this was an unusually contemporary year for me! Normally I read pretty widely, time-wise, but there were a handful of remarkably self-assured debut novels that couldn’t be ignored. First, I adored Stephanie Wambugu’s deliberately-old-fashioned Lonely Crowds, and have recommended it to so many people that they could populate an upstate college town like the one that features so heavily in the novel. I loved the flame-throwing Bad Nature by Ariel Courage, which is so furious in its voice, so cutting with its humor, that it’s almost intoxicating—like the buzzy lightheaded feeling you get from giving blood. And rounding out the trilogy was Cora Lewis’s Information Age, which is one of those fragmentary novels that we’ve all seen countless times, but incredibly, Lewis sacrifices nothing in the negative space.
Elsewhere, Francesca Wade’s Gertrude Stein: An Afterlife is an exemplary biography, looking at both an artist, and the creation of that artist’s legacy—itself a sort of art form. I spent several months reading nothing but Italian women (Ginzburg, de Céspedes, Morante, Terranova, Raimo, Mazzetti), and I also enjoyed playing director while reading Karl Krauss’s delirious and impossible-to-stage Modernist play, The Last Days of Mankind.
Finally, as the father of a two-year-old, I read the same 10 children’s books approximately one thousand times, each. Don’t miss Curious George Takes a Job, which contains a disquieting scene at the hospital, where George finds a bottle of ether and inhales the anesthetic until “everything went dark.”
* * *
Henry Hoke
author, Open Throat
I became a parent at the start of 2025, and although I was hanging out with my kid on the opposite coast, my heart and my reading choices were with my long-time home of Los Angeles. In an unimaginable and devastating year for the city, I was grateful to experience new work by some of my favorite LA artists. First, Season of the Rat by Elizabeth Hall, published by the freshly launched Cash 4 Gold Books. It’s a cutting marvel of hybrid prose that explores forgotten queer landmarks, sexual assault, recovery, burgeoning romance, and, of course, a rat on the roof. Then, the arrival of Sitting Vol. 2: Plein Air by Stacy Elaine Dacheux, the second in her series of illustrated chapbook memoirs. I adore the singular wit and succinct beauty of Stacy’s writing and art. This remarkable volume—much of it covering the direct aftermath of the fires, in which many of my friends lost their homes and businesses—becomes a meditation on resilience, how we shape ourselves by moving through. Lastly, Ottodokki by Patrick Michael Ballard, from art press Sming Sming, which is a pack of 24 randomized collectible cards by a visionary of material and myth. The cards’ uses are undefined, up to you. I had to buy one pack to keep sealed and one to crack open. My baby divined seven cards from the deck and we built a bedtime story with his choices.
* * *
Grace Byron
author, Herculine
I spent a lot of the year finally reading Thomas Pynchon and Barbara Ehrenreich, a pair that perhaps never seemed so omnipotent in their prophetic powers as they do now. I was delighted to find the former reference in the latter in Bait and Switch, her chronicle of white collar unemployment, a spiritual sequel of sorts to Nickel and Dimed. I also tuned into Philip Roth for the first time; I found The Counterlife a fascinating experiment in fiction and adored Portnoy’s Complaint. I read less contemporary fiction than usual but I adored Information Age by Cora Lewis, Will There Ever Be Another You by Patricia Lockwood, and Hothouse Bloom by Austyn Wohlers. And, since this is a list, Things In Nature Merely Grow by Yiyun Li is a moving archive of grief, a list that unspools great beauty and gripping love.
* * *
Peter Mendelsund
author, Weepers and Exhibitionist
I stopped reading about four years ago (it’s a long story). But I’m recently back in the game.
I still don’t read contemporary literary fiction, which is especially ungenerous of me having just thrown my new novel onto the toppling pile. What I do read is philosophy, poetry, fanfiction, sci fi, and fantasy (I’ve dipped my beak into romantasy this year as well). Which is to say that this list will be a mixed bag. Though as John Ashbery says, “good things sometimes come in mixed bags.”
Speaking of Ashbery, this year I read his 1989 Norton Lectures: Other Traditions. I’d read very little poetry outside of those works anthologized in my high school and college textbooks, so decided I should educate myself. Ashbery is, in many ways, a surprising guide here, as his own poetry is daunting and hermetic. (Once, after he spoke to Richard Howard’s class at Columbia, Howard told him the students “wanted the key to your poetry, but you presented them with a new set of locks.”) Yet Ashbery’s lectures have helped me quite a bit—specifically due to his reluctance and self-professed inability to explain anything. I am trying to follow his example, relinquishing my compulsive need to have a poem reveal itself completely. I sit with a poem now, let it wash over me, hear its music, and take from it what I will. Ashbery discusses six “lesser-known” poets in the book, including David Schubert, whose work I now find myself reading obsessively.
The Horus Heresy is a set of sixty-four fanfiction novels based on—and contributing to—the lore surrounding a tabletop miniatures game called Warhammer. My YouTube algorithm decided I’d like to watch videos of men meticulously painting miniature models of blood-spattered space warriors and tentacular aliens. Wanting to learn more about these characters and the world they inhabit I dove headfirst into the history of a war-torn 31st millennium.
This has been my year of considering “the object.” I’ve been reading anything I can get my hands on that contends with the ontology and phenomenology of stuff. A sampling would include, of course, Plato, Kant, Wittgenstein, etc., but most recently I’ve read Heidegger’s wonderful (though at times inscrutable) “The Thing.” Also, I reread the excellent Alien Phenomenology by Ian Bogost as well as A Philosophy of Sport by Steven Connor, which includes a wonderful chapter on sports equipment and the philosophical implications of human/object interaction.
A piano is an object, but also quite a bit more than an object. I read Sophy Roberts’s beautiful, elegiac book The Lost Pianos of Siberia, as well as the late pianist and polymath Alfred Brendel’s Music, Sense and Nonsense.
I read eight novels by Terry Prachett this year. I recommend The City Watch series, which follows a motley police force in the fantastical city of Ankh-Morpork as they contend with dragons, golems, assassins, and interspecies warfare. Pratchett also takes on larger questions around what a city is, and how it can, against all odds, function. These books are smart and wickedly funny.
I also read Cyrill Connolly’s The Unquiet Grave, a book at once ingenious and utterly terrible. There are passages that fit neatly within a genre I love: the author discussing ideal conditions under which he will—but ultimately can’t—write his future masterpiece. See under Barthes’s last lectures Preparation for the Novel. Which I also re-read. Anyway, the degree of bellyaching and bathos alongside the extreme erudition in Connolly’s book is delightful.
* * *
Eliana Ramage
author, To the Moon and Back
I’ll Tell You When I’m Home by Palestinian American poet and writer Hala Alyan exists in the urgent space before the birth of a child, as Alyan waits in a separate country from her surrogate Dee. With breathtaking precision, Alyan gathers and considers her daughter’s inheritance. She maps a family legacy of displacement—from Palestine, Kuwait, Syria, and Lebanon. She weaves in her own coming-of-age—in Kuwait, Beirut, Abu Dhabi, Dallas, and Oklahoma City—and stories of addiction, sobriety, pregnancy, and loss. Meanwhile, her daughter is the size of a grain of rice, and then a raspberry. Alyan’s writing is lyrical and surprising, open-hearted and unwavering. A tender and honest exploration of peoplehood, personhood, endings, and beginnings.
* * *
Erin Somers
author, The Ten Year Affair
I published a book this year which makes a person—how to put this?—go completely insane. Maybe not everyone. Does someone out there not go insane? Reach out via email. I personally go buck wild. I got excessively fit this year? Like ripped? I wrote 60,000 words of a new book? I could hear how I sounded describing to people that this was only a third of the planned word count. I sleepwalked every night for five months. I am still sleepwalking every night. My nightmares are of being publicly disgraced in some way, or that I’ve forgotten about a podcast interview. Imagine dreaming of podcast interviews! A new hell for the twenty-first century.
You can get to wondering why you write for a living, if you are so ill-cut-out for it. If it fills you with horrible anxiety. If it chases you. If it sucks up all your time. If it takes you further away from the thing you liked doing in the first place, which was just reading. Why didn’t I go and make a job out of the thing I liked best?
In this frame of mind, I read Howards End by E.M. Forster. Every year I try to fill some holes, read some classics I missed. I have been doing this long enough that I should know that whatever my notions are about a classic are likely wrong. But no, I never learn. Every time I’m like, what is this turgid artifact? From what dusty tomb was it unearthed?
Howards End looks so, so dusty. It’s like they tried to make it look as dusty as possible. They should refresh the design. They must. But then when you crack it, it is funny and alive, a class novel inspired by the lives of Virginia Woolf and Vanessa Bell concerning the fate of a country house.
The refrain of Howards End is “only connect,” and it’s possible that this is corny, maybe the corniest part of the book, which is mostly a closely observed and perceptive novel about how different tiers of rich people interact in Edwardian England. The old rich hate the nouveau riche and vice versa. The old rich pity the poor, while the new rich loathe the poor, and so on. It is also about a set of sisters going around being charming and slightly eccentric.
“Only connect” is Forster’s entreaty to connect the rational part of your brain with what might be called the heart. In my ragged, somnambulant, pointlessly shredded state I interpreted this as an argument in favor of art. If you go looking for the reason you do something, or a reason to keep doing whatever you’re doing, you’ll see it everywhere. You’ll hear it in a pop song or see it in a painting or in your kid’s face or in the pattern of a leaf.
Do I write to connect? I hope so? Probably not though. If I’m being honest it’s just that I’m compelled to do it. It’s that stupid and that inescapable. I just feel like doing it. In spite of everything, the part that is good—purely and without complications—is sitting down and writing. If there were moments of gratification this year they were in one of two places: in hanging out and doing nothing and on the page. These are my two vocations. Nothing and typing on my laptop. But it’s nice, isn’t it, only connect? It gives a sort of nobility to the whole endeavor. Maybe I could be worthy of it one day.
* * *
Natan Last
author, Across the Universe
The year your first book comes out must always involve shameful rereading, pawing at the greats to avoid peering unconvinced at the competition, reviving the adolescent fantasies of reading made feeble and death-aware by the reality of publishing.
I began the year with my third encounter of Nabokov’s Pnin, that sepia shambolic schlub double-fisting his laminated antiques, pride at newly-acquired U.S. citizenship and a full-time post at a college. I hacked my way through inauguration, its days pointy and gray and tragicomic like the pigeon-proofing spikes at a baseball stadium, with the cutlass imagery of Martín Espada’s Imagine the Angels of Bread (lightning jabbed the building / … scattering bricks from the roof / like beads from a broken necklace).
John Berger’s About Looking was the perfect companion on a couple of cold-month jaunts to tropicality, first to Turks & Caicos for a residency (where the chapter on suits bent my eye from sea to sequin) and then to Colombia for a wedding (where everything from hummingbird sanctuaries to seating charts parroted the section on zoos).
More recently, Stephanie Wambugu’s Lonely Crowds emerged as the best new novel I’d read this year; each chapter ends, like a Tobias Wolff short story, with an eerie, inevitable spine-tingle, simultaneously slowed-down and propulsive. I work (to the extent the field still exists) in humanitarian immigration and keep up with the fictions and analyses its horrors generate; I really liked Vincent Delecroix’s non-judgmental experiment in Small Boat and Stephanie DeGooyer’s legal-literary history, Before Borders.
Finally, Ellen Bryant Voigt, a poet I’m always imitating, passed this year, and I spent Thanksgiving re-experiencing the tractor engine of her synactic wizardy in Headwaters (it matters / what we’re called words shape the thought don’t say / rodent and ruin everything).
* * *
Sebastian Castillo
author, Fresh, Green Life
This was a great year for reading (they are all great years) and some favorites include Denton Welch’s In Youth Is Pleasure (delectable), Dag Solstad’s Novel 11, Book 18 (protean, confounding! a compliment), Peter Weiss’s The Aesthetics of Resistance (prismatic and devastating), as well as Ron Padgett’s incredibly sweet Joe: A Memoir of Joe Brainard (it made me cry).
But if I had to pick two books I think will stay with me for a while—and this is perhaps due to some recency bias—they are A Far Cry from Kensington and Loitering with Intent, both by Muriel Spark, which I read back to back. I’ve long been a great admirer of her work but I’ve never read novels so perfect as these two, with voices so utterly sui generis, with such an addictive tonal buoyancy that I now pace about my apartment and sulk, look out the window with a little vapor in my mien, because I am not reading Muriel Spark, when I should be. In fact, I am starting a new one today.
And sorry, last one: I just finished Iris Murdoch’s The Bell last night, but so far my astonishment toward this work of art is too great to replace the experience meaningfully with words. And like Lyn Hejinian, I love to be astonished!
* * *
Hala Alyan
author, I’ll Tell You When I’m Home
I wasn't ready for Tiana Clark’s Scorched Earth in the best kind of way. It’s rare for a read to be both raucous and poignant, but this collection manages exactly that. Her explorations of Black womanhood are incisive and heart-lifting at turns, continuously testing what else language can hold. I'm sure many have characterized her tone as “unapologetic,” but that’s not quite right. Clark transcends apology. She’s willing to be ashamed, to be wrong, to be afraid. She’s willing to sit with history—and her own heart—a beat longer than is comfortable, which means the reader has to be as well. That sort of co-curated courage is what I love most in poetry, and Clark excels at it.
“The truth is: I lied,” she writes in the titular poem. “Did I have to be there for it to still hurt me?” The answer, of course, is no. Life marks us sometimes most in the act of witnessing. But more than the wound, Clark is interested in what grows around it. She writes joy with the same precision she brings to heartache—joy in femmeness, joy in Blackness, joy in restarting, in not getting what we want, and in getting it. The collection becomes a testimony to desire, to its unruly persistence, to the impossibility of a blank slate—and thank God for that.
* * *
Deesha Philyaw
author, The Secret Lives of Church Ladies
Denne Michele Norris’s When the Harvest Comes resonated with so many facets of who I am. There’s the lover-girl in me who can’t resist a sweet-but-complicated-but-genuine love story like the one Norris’s main character Davis and his husband Everett share. There’s the grieving daughter who has learned, as Davis learns, that there are unexpected and upending layers to that grief when the parent you lost hurt you when they were alive. And finally, there’s the reader-writer in me who hungers for a beautiful, breathtaking page-turner with emotional heft and narrative surprises. Norris’s debut is a powerful reminder of all the different kinds of love we’ll experience, if we’re lucky, and how those ever-evolving loves can both collide with and be shaped by important questions of legacy and identity.
* * *
Ethan Rutherford
author, North Sun
This has been a strange year—my father died, we moved, my book came out—and I’ve felt more adrift in my reading life than at any other point I can remember. I pick things up and put them down; favorite authors no longer do the trick. I feel like I’ve lost the ability to steer myself true. Luckily, I am blessed with friends who have impeccable taste, and who are incredibly thoughtful, and who, when I look back at what I read this year on their recommendations, seem also to be watching out for me, and to them I am grateful.
Tongues by Anders Nilsen is my favorite book of the year and the one book I would press on anyone—it is beautifully drawn, beautifully told, complicated and strange, somehow feels even larger than it is. It’s perfect.
I owe my favorite (or, most meaningful) reading experience of the year to my friend Jill, who, after my dad died, found a beautiful copy of Virgil’s Aeneid: Book VI, trans. by Seamus Heaney, and gave it to me. This small chapter of the story concerns the moment Aeneas travels to the underworld and meets the spirit of his own father. I thought I had processed things, but of course I hadn’t. I read this on an airplane, slowly, and quietly cried while everyone else slept, and I felt lucky to hold that book in my hands.
The titles that follow are others I’ve read and loved this year (actually, this fall; spring was a mess), and are, in fact, some the only books now with me in our new apartment, far from home. I’ve come to think of them as cherished traveling companions, though they’re all new to me. I took a picture for accuracy. Can’t go wrong with any of these:
Ultramarine by Mariette Navarro; Orbital by Samantha Harvey; Kairos by Jenny Erpenbeck; Nocturnes by Kazuo Ishiguro; Miss Lonelyhearts & The Day of the Locust by Nathanael West; Refusing Heaven by Jack Gilbert; O’Clock: Sixteen Stories by Quim Monzo; The Infatuations by Javier Marías; Palaver by Bryan Washington; The Week of Colors by Elena Garro; The Battle for Spain by Antony Beevor; Los Cuarto Fantasticos: Mister Fantastico (I’m trying to learn Spanish); The Salt Stones by Helen Whybrow; State Champ by Hilary Plum; Magic Can’t Save Us by Josh Denslow; Look Out by Edward McPherson; States by Ciaran Berry; and The Understory by Saneh Sangsuk.
And finally, I am currently reading The Sisters by Jonas Hassen Khemiri, and I never want it to end.
* * *
Angela Flournoy
author, The Wilderness
At this point I might be becoming a broken record, but I really loved The Devil Three Times by Rickey Fayne, which is a debut novel that feels assured, and announces Fayne as a writer with a true storytelling gift. It’s an inter-generational saga that follows one family over more than a century—from West Africa to enslavement-era Tennessee to present day Tennessee. Alongside many memorable members of this family, we spend time with the devil himself, who functions as a kind of humorous, trickster guardian fallen angel for them. It is inventive, funny, and a book I still think about.
* * *
Emma Goldberg
reporter, the New York Times
There is something about New York that makes grit and shmaltz feel like two sides of one coin—the rat dragging its pizza on the A-train platform, the stranger holding open a subway door. The density of this place makes miracles feel more readily apparent, in the little kindnesses of people packed together like sardines and in the vastness of steel, iron, brick, and concrete. This year, I read three books about the history of New York, really about the underbelly of its miracles and about the people whose obstinance made the city as it is today, this ridiculous, jaw dropping grid of egos, lights and midnight sandwiches. One was The Power Broker by Robert Caro; the next was Gods of New York by Jonathan Mahler; the third was New York, New York, New York, New York by Thomas Dyja.
Taken together, the books explain how the city climbed from a fiscal hole to soaring wealth, how the chasm grew between the martini-drinking, Page Six names of billionaires’ row and the packed homes of NYCHA. These books course with the ambition that built oceanside boardwalks, but also with greed and plenty of petty point-scoring. In each one, the mythic men of New York turn into flesh and bones, men whose wives bought their socks: There was Robert Moses staging a fist fight with an “exceedingly drunk” city administrator, Alfred E. Smith unlocking the gates of the Central Park zoo at night to commune with the tigers, Ed Koch finally moving out of Gracie Mansion and into his nemesis Larry Kramer’s Greenwich Village apartment building. New York has a way of turning its bosses into demigods, but the authors turn those demigods back into men, characters whose grit and patriotic city schmaltz built New York and also left so many behind.
* * *
T Kira Madden
author, Whidbey
Because I’m currently working on a story about senior superlatives, maybe I’ll try to slot some of my other favorite reads by this way of categorization; Seduction Theory by Emily Adrian made me laugh the hardest. Reading the Waves by Lidia Yuknavitch made me cry the hardest. The book that asked me to slow down in large and small ways was Richard Powers’s The Overstory, and the book that asked me to devour it all at once was Quiara Alegría Hudes’s The White Hot. The most astonishing sentences I read were in Che Yeun’s forthcoming Tailbone, and the horniest, queerest book which has lodged itself in my brain is Melissa Faliveno’s forthcoming Hemlock. Stop Me if You’ve Heard this One by Kristen Arnett made me most homesick for Florida, and Mariah Rigg’s Extinction Capital of the World made me most homesick for Hawai’i. Sophie Lefens’s forthcoming Her Kind felt the most like hanging out with friends when I didn’t have friends to hang out with, and I learned a new term in 2025, “competency porn,” which calls to mind Michael Jerome Plunkett’s mesmerizing, obsessively detailed Zone Rouge. Most times I’ve said “so and so needs to read this book” in a gossipy way: Melissa Febos’s The Dry Season (IMO her best); most times I’ve said “so and so needs to read this book” in a you’re-not-alone way: Trying by Chloé Caldwell. The most beautifully written and composed cookbooks I read were Samin Nosrat’s Good Things (how many cookbooks quote June Jordan?) and Hetty McKinnon’s Linger.
* * *
Canisia Lubrin
author, Code Noir and The World After Rain
I read some great books this year. Among them The Book of Records, You Will Not Kill Our Imagination, We, The Kindling, The River Has Roots and Under the Eye of the Big Bird. A year in reading can mean uncovering the nearly surreal layers of recent days and a book’s intersecting with the world in real-time.
This year, it was Olive Senior’s Hurricane Watch, a poetry volume collecting one “New and Uncollected Poems” with four previously published books. Having read it in 2022, my rereading of it felt talismanic. If you’re a reader like me, you appreciate the long arc that is the life of a book in the world and how it might defy the logic of its pub season because it accompanies you through many years. As I read Hurricane Watch super typhoons swelled to terrifying girths in the East and a category five storm called Hurricane Melissa—queue memories of Katrina and Sandy—tore down the Atlantic basin with Jamaica, the poet’s island in its path, eye and all. All at once with Jamaica, Haiti, Dominican Republic and Cuba were also hit with scale-tipping winds, carnage and heartache for those on and off island. The poems in Hurricane Watch—prescient and tightly constructed—manage playfulness without being performative. Their second-order wisdoms that should by now have swayed the human hand away from the risks of treating human life as preordained resound in Senior’s poetic world of interconnected life.
* * *
Oliver Munday
author, Head of Household
This is no exaggeration: I've been waiting for Maggie Gram's The Invention of Design for twenty years (maybe not this book exactly, but a worse version to be sure). As a graphic designer myself, I've found very few books that take a comprehensive look at design—and none that have done so with the rigor and wit of Maggie Gram. The book charts the ways in which design has gone from something decorative to potentially destructive, evolving from the Bauhaus to the boardroom over the last hundred or so years. Through this fascinating story, a history of the 20th century emerges, as we watch design contorting itself to serve the shifting demands of capital. Written with a sceptical Marxist bent, without ever being didactic, the book illuminates design as the overlooked phenomenon that it is: something so ubiquitous (and insidious) we often have no idea that we're even engaging with it. Grounding her narrative with biographical sketches of figures like ceramicist Eva Zeisel and industrial designer Walter Teague, Gram gives us a deeply human sense of how design’s utopian ideals continued to be reimagined, and how we ended up endowing design with such faith to solve even society’s biggest problems. If you've ever wondered just how we got to this place where the facile language of Design Thinking has so deeply pervaded our culture, this is the book for you. I learned so much about something I thought I knew well. The single best book on design I've read.
* * *
Sophia Stewart
Editor, The Millions
Nonfiction tends to comprise the bulk of my reading diet, but my absolute favorite books of 2025 were two novels: Michelle de Kretser’s Theory & Practice and Erin Somers’s The Ten Year Affair. Both are scarily smart and largely concerned with the unbridgeable gaps between our ideals, our fantasies, and our realities. Among my other Year in Reading–worthy encounters, I finally read Norman Rush’s Mating, a novel belonging to my preferred genre which my boyfriend calls "How Men and Women Relate." I adored and cried reading linguist Julie Sedivy’s memoir Linguaphile, and made my first foray into audiobooks with my girl Martha Barnette’s impossibly delightful (and wonderfully narrated) Friends with Words. And finally, I continued to steadily work my way through Shelley Jackson’s Riddance, which is not just a masterpiece of stuttering literature, but a masterpiece, period.
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The Millions’ Great Fall 2025 Book Preview
The leaves are turning, and new books abound. Fall is famously publishing's busy season, and this year is no exception. My favorite book of the year came out this autumn—Erin Somers's The Ten Year Affair—and I wouldn't be surprised if your own favorite read of 2025 awaits you on this list as well.
Here you’ll find around 100 titles out this fall that we’re excited about here at The Millions. Some we’ve already read in galley form; others we’re simply eager to dive into based on their authors or subjects. We leaned on our friends at Publishers Weekly to help blurb some of the many, many titles that we're eager to put on your radar.
The Millions is, alas, still on hiatus, but we’re determined to continue bringing you our seasonal Most Anticipated previews in the interim (if a bit belatedly).
—Sophia Stewart, editor
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October
The Four Spent the Day Together by Chris Kraus (Scribner)
A successful writer chafes at criticism and obsesses over a murder case in the ponderous latest from Kraus. Read more.
The Great Grown-Up Game of Make-Believe by Lauren D. Woods (Autumn House)
A wife literally begins to shrink inside her house, a mother remembers a surreal encounter between her infant daughter and a bear, and a woman stumbles upon a night club filled with her lover’s exes in Woods’s imaginative debut.
Things That Disappear by Jenny Erpenbeck, tr. Kurt Beals (ND)
After winning the Booker International Prize in 2024, Erpenbeck returns with a stunning collection of interlinked autobiographical essays exploring memory, loss, and absence.
The Mind Reels by Fredrik deBoer (Coffee House)
In this bracing debut novel from cultural critic deBoer, a young woman becomes a prisoner of her own mind. Read more.
Mothers by Brenda Lozano, tr. Heather Cleary (Catapult)
From Mexican writer Lozano comes a smashing novel set in 1946, as a wave of kidnappings shock and scandalize northern Mexico. Read more.
It Girl by Marisa Meltzer (Atria)
In this first comprehensive biography of Jane Birkin, Meltzer gives due credit to the woman behind one of the world’s most iconic and coveted handbags—and makes the case for why she was much more than an “it girl.”
Vaim by Jon Fosse, tr. Damion Searls (Transit)
Nobel winner Fosse centers this spectacular story of loneliness, love, and death on three linked characters living in small-town Norway. Read more.
Shadow Ticket by Thomas Pynchon (Penguin Press)
With his casually playful and chillingly resonant ninth novel, Pynchon delivers a warning against global fascism, a slapstick symphony whose antic comedy can’t begin to conceal its hopelessly broken American heart. Read more.
Unfit by Ariana Harwicz, tr. Jessie Mendez Sayer (ND)
Harwicz spins an unrelenting tale of a migrant woman who takes drastic steps to fulfill her radical conception of motherly love. Read more.
Gertrude Stein: An Afterlife by Francesca Wade (Scribner)
This innovative biography of Stein from Square Haunting author Wade assesses the influential writer’s life and work, from her childhood in California and productive years in Paris, to the ways that scholars constructed her posthumous legacy. Read more.
Intemperance by Sonora Jha (HarperVia)
In the jaunty latest from Jha, a twice-divorced feminist scholar decides to celebrate her 55th birthday by throwing herself a swayamvar, a traditional Indian ceremony in which a woman invites potential suitors to compete for her hand in marriage by performing various feats. Read more.
The Wayfinder by Adam Johnson (FSG)
Johnson, the Pulitzer-winning author of The Orphan Master’s Son, unfolds a majestic saga of political unrest in the South Pacific and a girl’s quest to save her people. Read more.
We Survived the Night by Julian Brave NoiseCat (Knopf)
Fresh off his first Oscar nomination, NoiseCat returns with an oral history and work of reportage that probes Indigenous culture through an intimate journey shared by a father and a son.
Minor Black Figures by Brandon Taylor (Riverhead)
The gimlet-eyed latest from Taylor follows a creatively blocked painter through the New York City art world. Read more.
Vagabond: A Memoir by Tim Curry (Grand Central)
In this charming debut autobiography, British actor Curry offers a peek behind the curtain of his prolific screen and stage careers. Read more.
A Guardian and a Thief by Megha Majumdar (Knopf)
Majumdar spins a luminous story of a family facing climate catastrophe and food scarcity in near-future Kolkata. Read more.
A Wooded Shore: And Other Stories by Thomas McGuane (Knopf)
McGuane rounds up another memorable group of misguided and doomed characters in this stellar collection. Read more.
Analog Days by Damion Searls (Coffee House)
Searls, translator of Jon Fosse and author of The Philosophy of Translation, offers in these clear-eyed ruminations a Gen Xer’s impressions of the technology and violence that shape 21st-century life. Read more.
Three or More Is a Riot by Jelani Kobb (One World)
New Yorker staff writer Cobb offers an expansive collection of his published essays, spanning from 17-year-old Trayvon Martin’s murder in 2012, which “ruined the mood of a nation that had, just a few years earlier, elected its first black president,” to Donald Trump’s return to office in 2025. Read more.
The House of Beauty by Arabelle Sicardi (Norton)
Across this searing collection of essays, former beauty editor Sicardi takes a knife to the industry in which they built their career, considering everything from the shimmering mica in beauty products to the historical connection between fragrance and fascism.
Twice Born by Hester Kaplan (Catapult)
In this affecting memoir, Kaplan examines her relationship with her father, Pulitzer Prize–winning biographer Justin Kaplan, who died in 2014. Read more.
Bog Queen by Anna North (Bloomsbury)
The discovery of a woman’s body in an English bog kicks off the piercing latest from North, which alternates between the perspectives of a forensic scientist tasked with identifying the remains and the long-dead woman, a young Druid leader who died around the year 50 BCE. Read more.
All That We See or Seem by Ken Liu (Saga)
This dazzling near-future mystery from Hugo winner Liu sparkles with suspense, intensity, and effortless worldbuilding. Read more.
The Land of Sweet Forever by Harper Lee (Harper)
This posthumous collection of Lee’s work offers up newly discovered short stories and previously published essays and magazine pieces that reveal another side to the To Kill a Mockingbird author.
The Ten Year Affair by Erin Somers (S&S)
Somers’s latest novel is a wry and ingenious tale of marital infidelity, offering a sardonic view into the pressures of marriage and motherhood and the ambient temptation of adultery. Read more.
Look Out by Edward McPherson (Astra House)
Guggenheim fellow McPherson presents a charming, idiosyncratic meditation on the human urge to see further, and more, in this cultural history of the “aerial view.” Read more.
Time Tunnel by Eileen Chang, tr. Karen S. Kingsbury and Jie Zhang (NYRB)
This sweeping collection gathers stories and essays from every stage of the late Chinese author’s career, some of which have never before been translated into English, spanning Shanghai and Hong Kong to the freeways of Los Angeles.
Looking for Tank Man by Ha Jin (Other Press)
In the latest from the National Book Award winner, a Chinese Harvard student grows fixated on the Tiananmen Square Massacre. Read more.
Motherland: A Feminist History of Modern Russia, from Revolution to Autocracy by Julia Ioffe (Ecco)
This kaleidoscopic volume from Ioffe, a finalist for this year’s National Book Award, combines memoir, journalism, and history to paint a nuanced portrait of modern Russia, all through the lens of womanhood.
That's How It Works, ed. Katherine Webb-Hehn (Hub City)
This vibrant collection highlights the best Southern fiction published by the Spartanburg, S.C.–based Hub City Press over the past three decades, featuring work by Carter Sickels, James Yeh, and more.
Sacrament by Susan Straight (Counterpoint)
Straight’s immersive latest is a vibrant drama following a group of nurses at the height of Covid-19 in August 2020. Read more.
The Anthony Bourdain Reader by Anthony Bourdain (Ecco)
This career-spanning collection offers up new and never-before-seen material, including diary entries and unpublished short stories, while also celebrating Bourdain’s most compelling and definitive essays.
Patchwork: A Graphic Biography of Jane Austen by Kate Evans (Verso)
This artful and thought-provoking graphic biography from Evans stitches a postcolonial layer into the narrative by examining the fabrics worn by Jane Austen and her contemporaries. Read more.
I Deliver Parcels in Beijing by Hu Anyan, tr. Jack Hargreaves (Astra House)
A literary sensation in China when it was first published in 2023, this vivid self-portrait is a universal exploration of gig work and the financial pressures of surviving in today’s big cities.
One, None, and a Hundred Grand by Luigi Pirandello, tr. Sean Wilsey (Archipelago)
The 1926 novel by the late Nobel Prize winner—a meditation on relativism that poses urgent questions about self-perception, insecurity, and doubt—gets a second life in this elegant new translation.
The Book of Kin by Jennifer Eli Bowen (Milkweed)
Bowen’s probing debut questions how we forge relationships, community, and joy within a world rife with isolation and solitude, drawing on her experiences as a mother, daughter, and founder of the Minnesota Prison Writing Workshop.
Bigger by Ren Cedar Fuller (Autumn House)
Fuller’s collection of personal essays calls on readers to imagine a "bigger" way of being in the world, from accommodating and celebrating difference, to finding new modes of expressing ourselves and loving others.
Jack the Modernist by Robert Glück (NYRB)
Glück's novel of sex and art—a cult classic and trailblazing work of postmodern gay fiction—traces the gradual dissolution of a love affair against the backdrop of 1980s San Francisco.
Dead and Alive by Zadie Smith (Penguin Press)
Novelist and critic Smith brings an incisive eye and keen wit to art, music, fiction, politics, and more in these wide-ranging essays. Read more.
Little F by Michelle Tea (Feminist Press)
By turns heartbreaking, hilarious, and hope-filled, the latest from Tea follows a 13-year-old runaway’s search for a queer paradise. Read more.
November
Across the Universe by Natan Last (Pantheon)
New Yorker crossword constructor Last debuts with an enthusiastic exploration of the crossword puzzle, amounting to a love letter best suited for fellow obsessives. Read more.
On the Calculation of Volume III by Solvej Balle, tr. Sophia Hersi Smith and Jennifer Russell (ND)
In the ingenious third installment of Balle’s septology, Danish rare book dealer Tara Selter is still trapped in the 18th of November. Read more.
Dress, Dreams, and Desire by Valerie Steele (Bloomsbury)
Steele, once described by critic Suzy Menkes as "the Freud of fashion," probes the intersections of psychoanalytic principles and the clothes we wear.
Queen Esther by John Irving (S&S)
Irving revisits the setting of The Cider House Rules with a novel about a Viennese Jewish orphan and her adoptive family in New Hampshire. Read more.
Book of Lives: A Memoir of Sorts by Margaret Atwood (Doubleday)
The remarkable debut memoir from Booker Prize winner Atwood recounts pivotal moments in her personal life that shaped some of her most enduring work as a writer. Read more.
Lightbreakers by Aja Gabel (Riverhead)
A California couple’s marriage is put to the test when they take part in a dodgy experiment in Gabel’s satisfying sophomore novel. Read more.
Palaver by Bryan Washington (FSG)
Washington revisits the Japanese setting of his novel Memorial with a bighearted drama about a 30-something Houston man’s reunion with his estranged mother. Read more.
The Year of the Wind by Karina Pacheco Medrano, tr. Mara Faye Lethem (Graywolf)
Pacheco Medrano dazzles in her English-language debut, the surreal story of a 50-something Peruvian writer reckoning with her cousin’s disappearance during the government’s conflict with a Maoist insurgency in the 1980s. Read more.
Helm by Sarah Hall (Mariner)
This virtuosic outing from Hall gives voice to the Helm—a storied northeasterly wind known for its destructive power and distinctive cloud formations that blows down the Cross Fell escarpment in Northwest England. Read more.
Bread of Angels by Patti Smith (Random House)
Smith returns with yet another memoir, even more intimate than the last, traversing her teenage years, romantic entanglements, defining losses, and creative liberation.
False War by Carlos Manuel Álvarez, tr. Natasha Wimmer (Graywolf)
Cuban writer Álvarez constructs a mesmerizing novel out of vignettes featuring characters who left Castro’s Cuba only to experience more dispossession and indignity. Read more.
Hidden Portraits by Sue Roe (Norton)
In six biographical essays, Roe paints a detailed study of the women who inspired, loved, and troubled Pablo Picasso: models Fernande Olivier and Marie-Thérèse Walter, ballerina Olga Khokhlova, painters Dora Maar and Françoise Gilot, and Picasso’s widow, Jacqueline Roque. Read more.
Pandora by Ana Paula Pacheco, trans. by Julia Sanches (Transit)
Equal parts ribald and unsettling, Brazilian writer Pacheco’s English-language debut chronicles a literature professor’s mental breakdown. Read more.
Governing Bodies by Sangamithra Iyer (Milkweed)
Iyer traces her passion for conservation and animal rights activism back two generations in this beautiful debut memoir. Read more.
Queen Mother by Ashley D. Farmer (Pantheon)
Historian Farmer offers an impressive biography of pioneering Black Nationalist Audley “Queen Mother” Moore. Read more.
Life on a Little-Known Planet by Elizabeth Kolbert (Crown)
Kolbert has radically informed the way modern audiences understand climate change, and her newest collection is no exception, zooming into stories of hope, activism, and innovation across the globe.
Black-Owned by Char Adams (Tiny Reparations)
Former NBC News journalist Adams debuts with an illuminating history of America’s Black-owned bookstores, from the Tribeca storefront opened in 1834 by abolitionist David Ruggles to the radical bookshops of the 1960s. Read more.
Fire in Every Direction by Tareq Baconi (Washington Square)
In this poignant autobiography, queer Palestinian writer and activist Baconi tenderly explores identity, nationality, and family history. Read more.
The Bridegroom Was a Dog by Yoko Tawada, tr. Margaret Mitsutani (ND)
First published in 1998, Parul Sehgal called Tawada’s absurd yet tender tale of unexpected romance "her masterpiece."
The Silver Book by Olivia Laing (FSG)
Laing, who’s written nonfiction about the lives of artists and one previous novel, Crudo, fuses the two forms with a lush narrative of art and love in 1970s Italy. Read more.
The White Hot by Quiara Alegria Hudes (One World)
The potent debut novel from playwright and memoirist Hudes follows a single mother who abandons her daughter to try and find herself. Read more.
The Emergency by George Packer (FSG)
Packer, a journalist and National Book Award winner, delivers a propulsive Orwellian novel set in a strange future world known as “the empire.” Read more.
Find Him! by Elaine Kraf (Modern Library)
Kraf, who died in 2013, depicts in this striking 1977 novel the eccentric life of a mysterious unnamed woman who confesses she has “no identity, no ability to think or speak.” Read more.
This Unruly Witness, ed. Lauren Muller, Becky Thompson, Dominique C. Hill, and Durell M. Callier (Haymarket)
June Jordan’s legacy as a poet, activist, and healer is celebrated in this landmark collection, complete with contributions from such luminaries as Alexis Pauline Gumbs, Imani Perry, and Angela Davis.
The Book of Women's Friendship, ed. Rachel Cooke (Norton)
Drawing on fiction, diaries, poetry, and letters, this first major anthology of female friendship succinctly mines the impact, history, and beauty of platonic love between women.
The Body Digital by Vanessa Chang (Melville House)
Chang, director of programs at Leonardo, the International Society for the Arts, Sciences, and Technology, debuts with a lofty history of the relationship between technology and the human body. Read more.
Estate by Cynthia Zarin (FSG)
The elegant latest from Zarin offers a new and seemingly autofictional version of the love story central to her previous novel, Inverno. Read more.
Girls Play Dead by Jen Percy (Doubleday)
Percy, a New York Times Magazine contributing writer, offers a groundbreaking exploration of women’s often shamed and silenced responses to sexual assault. Read more.
Blank Space by W. David Marx (Viking)
Marx offers an astute glimpse into how culture has stagnated throughout the past 25 years while examining how commercial and technological forces have played into that shift.
My Little Donkey by Martha Cooley (Catapult)
In this elegant volume, novelist Cooley reflects on her late-in-life move to Italy. Read more.
Fear Less: Poetry in Perilous Times by Tracy K. Smith (Norton)
The Pulitzer Prize–winning poet demystifies an art form that for many can seem inaccessible and intimidating, arguing that poetry—and the humanity it brings to the fore—is needed now more than ever.
Winning the Earthquake by Lorissa Rinehart (St. Martin's)
Historian Rinehart offers an illuminating biography of the first woman elected to Congress. Read more.
(Th)ings and (Th)oughts by Alla Gorbunova, tr. Elina Alter (Deep Vellum)
The 61 stories in this razor-sharp collection from Gorbunova evoke the absurdity of everyday life in post-Soviet Russia. Read more.
Queen of Swords by Jazmina Barrera, tr. Christina MacSweeney (Two Lines)
In this propulsive, deeply researched narrative, readers accompany Barrera as she investigates the influential 20th-century Mexican novelist Elena Garro, using everything from Garro's archives to astrology.
The Week of Colors by Elena Garro, tr. Megan McDowell (Two Lines)
Publishing in tandem with Barrera’s The Queen of Swords is this dazzling 1963 collection of stories about hauntings, curses, and the uncanny from Garro, a pioneer of magical realism. Read more.
Baby Driver by Jan Kerouac (NYRB)
The autobiographical novel by Jack Kerouac’s daughter, first published in 1981, offers a thrilling and unflinching glimpse into the author's difficult childhood—shaped by paternal neglect—and the sense of resilience and self-reliance it instilled in her.
Married Life by Sergio Pitol, tr. George Henson (Deep Vellum)
From one of Mexico’s most influential writers comes a satirical, unsparing story about a heartbroken wife seeking a fresh start in the wake of her husband’s infidelity.
Palace of Deception by Darrin Lunde (Norton)
The rise of scientific racism takes on a new dimension in Lunde’s stunning investigation into the American Museum of Natural History and its complicated origins.
Beasts of the Sea by Iida Turpeinen, tr. David Hackston (Little, Brown)
Turpeinen’s fantastic debut interweaves the fate of an extinct aquatic species with the stories of the people who discovered and destroyed it. Read more.
Racial Fictions by Hazel V. Carby (Verso)
Combining historical analysis, literary criticism, and cultural theory, Carby’s interrogation of the racial myths that have shaped our world is as insightful as it is timely.
December
House of Day, House of Night by Olga Tokarczuk, tr. Antonia Lloyd-Jones (Riverhead)
This vivid 1998 novel from Nobel winner Tokarczuk prefigures the discursive style of her later work such as Flights, with the story of a woman who moves with her husband from their Polish city to rural Silesia. Read more.
A Long Game by Elizabeth McCracken (Ecco)
Story Prize winner McCracken distills decades of personal experience into 280 idiosyncratic reflections on writing. Read more.
Algorithm of the Night by A.S. Hamrah (n+1)
The film critic's talents are on full display in this collection, which gathers recent essays from n+1, The Baffler, the New York Review of Books, the Criterion Collection, and more.
The Complete C Comics by Joe Brainard (NYRB)
Throughout the 1960s, Joe Brainard teamed up with such poets as John Ashbery, Frank O’Hara, and Barbara Guest to create pioneering, collaborative comic strips—and now, these comics are compiled for the first time in a single, sweeping volume.
Galapagos by Fátima Vélez, tr. Hannah Kauders (Astra House)
Colombian writer Vélez makes a striking debut with a fever dream of a novel that evokes the AIDS epidemic as it follows a group of artists and political radicals on a phantasmagoric voyage. Read more.
Barbieland by Tarpley Hitt (One Signal)
Timed perfectly to Barbie’s cultural resurgence, Hitt deftly unpacks the history behind and enduring appeal of the beloved doll.
The Jaguar’s Roar by Micheliny Verunschk, tr. Juliana Barbassa (Liveright)
The Brazilian author’s fifth novel, and first to be translated into English, weaves an extraordinary tale about an Indigenous girl’s kidnapping during a colonial expedition and the ramifications that unfold centuries later.
The Award by Matthew Pearl (Harper)
Pearl takes a knife to the publishing industry and its much-ballyhooed literary prizes, offering a keen-eyed portrait of ambition, jealousy, and desperation.
Casanova 20 by Davey Davis (Catapult)
Davis unfurls a fascinating narrative of art and desire, following an amorous and preternaturally beautiful young man and his unusual friendship with an elder painter. Read more.
Googoosh by Googoosh (Gallery)
The legendary Iranian superstar tells the story of her rise to fame in pre-revolution Iran, her arrest and imprisonment, her 20 years in exile, and, eventually, her triumphant return to the global stage.
The Aquatics by Osvalde Lewat, tr. Maren Baudet-Lackner (Coffee House)
Cameroonian filmmaker and photographer Lewat makes her English-language debut with a shocking morality tale about an African woman torn between her bureaucrat husband and her artist friend, whose homosexuality is a high crime in their fictional country of Zambuena. Read more.
The Lord by Soraya Antonius (NYRB)
This timely, vivid novel meditates on myth, community, revolution, and prejudice through the eyes of a magician living in Palestine before the Nakba.
Television by Lauren Rothery (Ecco)
Rothery’s nimble debut zooms in on an aging, A-list movie star, the relationships that buoyed him throughout his career, and the disparities of talent, wealth, and artistry that mar Hollywood.
A Danger to the Mind of Young Girls by Adam Morgan (One Signal)
Morgan, founder of the Chicago Review of Books, debuts with a comprehensive biography of Margaret C. Anderson (1886–1973), founder of the early-20th-century avant-garde magazine The Little Review. Read more.
Daring to Be Free by Sudhir Hazareesingh (FSG)
In this stunning revisionist history, Hazareesingh makes the case that enslaved people rebelled against their captivity throughout all four centuries of the Atlantic slave system—and that those efforts contributed more to their freedom than "the campaigns of enlightened white abolitionists." Read more.
Daddy Was a Number Runner by Louise Meriwether (Feminist Press)
This new edition of Meriwether’s classic novel about a young Black girl’s coming of age in 1930s Harlem offers a fresh glimpse into the author’s legacy, featuring new writing celebrating her life, work, and activism.
The Millions’ Great Summer 2025 Book Preview
Any book can be a beach read with the right attitude. On offer this summer are a bevy of books to take seaside, or poolside, or to the park, patio, or outdoor setting of your choosing. Here you’ll find just over 100 titles out this summer that we’re excited about here at The Millions. Some we’ve already read in galley form; others we’re simply eager to dive into based on their authors or subjects. We hope you find your next great read among them.
The Millions is, alas, still on hiatus, but we're determined to continue bringing you our seasonal Most Anticipated previews in the interim (if, at times, a bit belatedly).
—Sophia Stewart, editor
*
July
I Want to Burn This Place Down by Maris Kreizman (Ecco)
Kreizman's writing captures that distinctly millennial brand of malaise with refreshing wit and vigor, and her always-correct book world takes are informed by a deep love of literature. I'm looking forward to seeing these chops and more on display in her debut essay collection. —Sophia M. Stewart
Hot Girls with Balls by Benedict Nguyễn (Catapult)
Nguyen's debut is a subversive satire and romantic romp rolled into one, following two Asian American trans women's scheme to join a men's pro indoor volleyball league. —SMS
Vera, or Faith by Gary Shteyngart (Random House)
Shteyngart returns with the story of a precocious little girl as she searches for her birth mother, navigates her imploding family, and strives toward unending love. —Eva M. Baron
Long Distance by Ayşegül Savaş (Bloombsury)
Savas's followup to her brilliant novel The Anthropologists is a collection of stories that deconstruct contemporary life through the lenses of desire, loss, and intimacy. —SMS
A Bomb Placed Close to the Heart by Nishant Batsha (Ecco)
The sophomore novel from Batsha, inspired by the real-life romance of 20th-century radicals M.N. Roy and Evelyn Trent, tells the love story of an Indian revolutionary and Stanford grad student who fall for one another in 1917. —SMS
Bring the House Down by Charlotte Runcie (Doubleday)
A ruthless theater critic meets his match in a struggling actress, who sets off the unraveling of his reputation after a one-night stand in Runcie’s clever tale, which also offers a piercing critique of power games and misogyny. —Sam L. Spratford
Putafeminista by Monique Prada, tr. Amanda De Lisio (Feminist Press)
Brazilian sex worker and activist Prada calls for a working class women's movement that rejects "whorephobia" and critiques current feminist discourse around sex work in this bracing manifesto. —SMS
Sunburn by Chloe Michelle Howarth (Melville House)
Howarth's queer coming-of-age novel set in small-town Ireland in the early 1990s mines the intensity of first love (and first heartbreak) as well as the pain of being queer in a small, conservative community. —SMS
Fools for Love by Helen Schulman (Knopf)
Following her 2023 novel Lucky Dogs, Schulman offers up a smart short story collection complete with a cast of characters including an East Village playwright, a precocious baby, and an American mother and French Orthodox rabbi who become lovers. —EMB
The Feather Detective by Chris Sweeney (Avid Reader)
In the 1960s, Roxie Laybourne pioneered the field of forensic ornithology, which is exactly what it sounds like—using feathers to solve bird-related mysteries and crimes, from plane crashes to a racist tarring-and-feathering. Sweeney's biography must be read to be believed. —SMS
A Return to Self by Aatish Taseer (Catapult)
Part travelogue, part memoir, A Return to Self was spurred by the revocation of Taseer's Indian citizenship in 2019, exiling him from his home of 30 years. Traveling across cities in Turkey and Mexico, he considers questions of identity, home, and why certain sites become historical epicenters. —SMS
The Convenience Store by the Sea by Sonoko Machida, tr. Bruno Navasky (Putnam)
Centered on a small-town Japanese mini-mart aptly called Tenderness, Machida’s international bestseller is a heartfelt ode to community and the unassuming delights that help us all endure. —SLS
Passport to Paris and Los Angeles Poems by Vernon Duke, tr. Boris Dralyuk (Paul Dry Books)
I've been reading Dralyuk's translations of and writing about Vernon Duke for a couple years now, courtesy of his wonderful blog, and could not be more excited to see Duke's Los Angeles poems paired with his 1995 memoir—both rendered in Dralyuk's always-brilliant translation from the Russian. —SMS
A Flower Traveled in My Blood by Haley Cohen Gilliland (Avid Reader)
Gilliland's sweeping, rigorous narrative history tells the story of the Abuelas de Plaza de Mayo, the fearless Argentine grandmothers whose pregnant daughters were disappeared and whose grandchildren were kidnapped by the government—and have much to teach us now. —SMS
Make Your Way Home by Carrie R. Moore (Tin House)
The 11 stories in Moore's debut collection explore the lives of Black men and women in the American South—from North Carolina to Florida to Texas—who seek a sense of belonging in the oppressive shadow of history. —SMS
Information Age by Cora Lewis (Joyland)
Lewis’s novella of a journalist covering technology in the late 2010s looks back on the not-so-distant early days of our dizzying digital news cycle, through the ears of one woman whose reporting and personal life meld into one noisy milieu. —SLS
Blowfish by Kyung-Ran Jo, tr. Chi-Young Kim (Astra House)
A successful sculptor contemplates killing herself by eating a fatal serving of blowfish—just as her grandmother did before her—in Jo's haunting novel. —SMS
Nothing More of This Land by Joseph Lee (One Signal)
Growing up on Martha’s Vineyard, Lee found that his Wampanoag identity didn’t match what he learned about U.S. history at school. Now a journalist, he thinks about the meaning of Indigenous identity today and how one might move beyond colonial legacies. —Nathalie op de Beeck
Necessary Fiction by Eloghosa Osunde (Riverhead)
Following their acclaimed debut Vagabonds!, Osunde’s sophomore novel conjures up more than two dozen multi-generational characters navigating queer life in Nigeria, who grapple with everything from the risks of authenticity to questions of death and God. —SLS
Maggie; or, A Man and a Woman Walk Into a Bar by Katie Yee (Summit)
Yee weaves tragedy into comedy in her debut novel, which follows an unnamed Chinese American woman as she navigates the one-two punch of discovering her husband's infidelity and being diagnosed with breast cancer. —SMS
Pan by Michael Clune (Penguin)
A precocious teenager tries to get to the roots of his anxiety after he starts suffering from panic attacks, reading and writing his way toward an explanation—including that the Greek god Pan, from which the word panic, comes, might be trapped inside his body. —SMS
Sloppy by Rax King (Vintage)
King follows up her cheeky debut Tacky with an essay collection about bad behavior—from shoplifting to drug use and abuse to mental illness—written with her characteristic wit, cheek, and sense of gallows humor. —SMS
Black Genius by Tre Johnson (Dutton)
Johnson’s subversive and entertaining essays weave family and U.S. history to illuminate Black ingenuity and the "brilliance of the everyday," from 90s airbrush graffiti tees to unassuming family traditions. —SLS
The Trembling Hand by Mathelinda Nabugodi (Knopf)
Nabugodi's new history of Romantic literature illuminates the ever-looming presence of the Atlantic slave trade in the lives and work of Shelley, Keats, and others, exemplifying the difficulty—and necessity—of facing the violent contradictions that undergird the stories we love to read and tell. —SLS
An Oral History of Atlantis by Ed Park (Random House)
Park’s story collection perfects the tongue-in-cheek accounting of modern life that characterized his two novels, delivering a memorable cast of characters whose fates coincide at the border between mundane and strange. —SLS
Time of Silence by Luis Martín-Santos, tr. Peter Bush (NYRB)
This new translation restores the most unsavory truths about Franco’s dictatorship to Martín-Santos's darkly funny 1962 novel, which follows a Nobel-aspiring scientist through the shadows of a society that has hit rock bottom. —SLS
The Dance and the Fire by Daniel Saldaña París, tr. Christina MacSweeney (Catapult)
Described as "spellbinding" by PW, Saldaña’s latest is a smoldering tale of three friends whose erotic and artistic dynamics rouse a Mexican city from its collective slumber. —SLS
Simplicity by Mattie Lubchansky (Pantheon)
From the editor of the satirical comics publication the Nib comes an imaginative and terrifying story of monsters both natural and supernatural, set in 2081 between a dystopian New York City and a cult in the Catskills. —SLS
My Clavicle and Other Massive Misalignments by Marta Sanz, tr. Katie King (Unnamed)
Sanz's autofictional English-language debut is a poetic meditation on illness, mortality, and writing sure to please memoir readers and mystery enthusiasts alike. —SLS
Love Forms by Claire Adam (Hogarth)
In a sprawling and emotional tale of an aging woman in search of the daughter she gave up for adoption at 16, Adam probes the many ways love can shape our lives in her latest novel since her prize-winning debut Golden Child. — SLS
Lonely Crowds by Stephanie Wambugu (Little, Brown)
The art world is infamously cutthroat—and an endless source of inspiration for novelists. Wambugu’s debut fits squarely into this tradition, conjuring New York’s art scene in the early 1990s through the intense, competitive, and richly imagined friendship of two ambitious women. —EMB
August
Solitaria by Eliana Alves Cruz, tr. Benjamin Brooks (Astra House)
In Cruz’s propulsive liberation novel, a mother and a daughter work as live-in maids in the Golden Plate, the most expensive building in an unnamed Brazilian city. While there, the duo must reckon not only with their own invisibility and dissatisfaction, but with Brazil’s legacies of colonial violence, wealth, and injustice. —EMB
He Rolled Me Up Like a Grilled Squid by Yoshiharu Tsuge, tr. Ryan Holmberg (D&Q)
Manga creator Yoshiharu Tsuge, now in his 80s, had a relatively short comics career from 1965–1987, rising to cult status but plagued by difficulties with his mental health. This collection of his work, spanning 1975–1981, showcases Yoshiharu’s characteristic blend of the personal and the nightmarish. —NodB
People Like Us by Jason Mott (Dutton)
Mott follows up his 2021 National Book Award–winning novel Hell of a Book with a surreal and intimate story about two Black writers contending with loss, longing, and gun violence. —EMB
Blessings and Disasters by Alexis Okeowo (Holt)
Perhaps even more than the New Yorker writer's journalistic chops, Okeowo's ability to navigate, with nuance and empathy, seemingly hopeless racial divides is what makes this ground-level depiction of her home state of Alabama exceptional. —SLS
The Invention of Charlotte Brontë by Graham Watson (Pegasus)
Watson's debut biography deconstructs the Jayne Eyre author's swift ascent to literary fame and the dueling narratives that continue to shape her legacy. —SMS
The Book of Homes by Andrea Bajani, tr. Elizabeth Harris (Deep Vellum)
Bajani’s episodic, nonlinear narrative traces one man’s memories and rites of passage through a series of northern Italian homes, from infancy in 1976 to 21st-century adulthood. —NodB
Moderation by Elaine Castillo (Viking)
As our world becomes more virtual, so too does romance. That shift grounds Castillo’s intriguing latest, where one of the world’s best content moderators must contend with falling in love during a digital—and increasingly isolated—era. —EMB
Putting Myself Together by Jamaica Kincaid (FSG)
Intimate in scope and ambitious in subject matter, this collection gathers Kincaid's early pieces from such publications as the New Yorker, Village Voice, and Ms., exemplifying her stylistic confidence—and evolution—across time. —EMB
Friends with Words by Martha Barnette (Abrams)
A Way with Words is the only podcast I listen to, and the fact is that I would die for Martha Barnette, so I can't wait to read her chronicle of her lifelong love of language. —SMS
God and Sex by Jon Raymond (S&S)
Climate disaster, New Age writing, carnality, and meditations on God may seem an unlikely melange, but Raymond brilliantly merges each of these strands into this rigorous and probing novel about an author whose brush with a forest fire pushes him to seek a higher power. —EMB
The Dilemmas of Working Women by Fumio Yamamoto, tr. Brian Bergstrom (HarperVia)
Each of the five stories in Yamamoto's collection centers on a different woman navigating life in contemporary Japan, where the alienation of wage labor compounds with the pressure to be agreeable, maternal, and non-confrontational—patriarchal norms to which these "spiky" women cannot bend. —SLS
Loved One by Aisha Muharrar (Viking)
Muharrar—a TV writer with credits on Hacks, Parks and Rec, The Good Place, and more—makes her literary debut with this story of love and loss, about a young woman who goes on an intercontinental journey to recover the belongings of her old friend and first love, who dies unexpectedly at 29. —SMS
Dwelling by Emily Hunt Kivel (FSG)
Perhaps out of necessity, our ongoing housing crisis offers perfect fodder for fiction—or at least that’s the case for Kivel’s aptly-titled, surrealist debut. Part fairy tale, part social commentary, this innovative and wry story follows a young woman’s quest for a home when, in a world-ending twist, every renter is evicted en masse. —EMB
Little World by Josephine Rowe (Transit)
Rowe's story about various lives touched by a child saint's corpse over space and time is lyrical, varied, and only slightly less strange than it sounds. —SLS
Positive Obsession by Susana M. Morris (Amistad)
Octavia Butler was a literary trailblazer as the first Black woman to consistently write and publish science fiction. This sweeping biography probes Butler’s legacy with both sensitivity and rigor, considering the cultural, political, and social contexts that shaped her life and writing. —EMB
Black Moses by Caleb Gayle (Riverhead)
It's a rare and satisfying experience to find a nonfiction book that balances the scope of its content with narrative coherence, without sacrificing either. Gayle's latest carves a historical epic out of a forgotten episode in the Black separatist movement, enthralling as both a character study and a novel look at America's racial history. —SLS
Stories of the True by Jeyamohan, tr. Priyamvada Ramkumar (FSG)
With evocative, refreshing, and at times volatile prose, Jeyamohan reveals the intricacies of life in contemporary India through stories about bureaucrats, elephants, gurus, and doctors. —EMB
The Dancing Face by Mike Phillips (Melville House)
In this highly original thriller, Gus, a Black university professor, plans a burglary to "liberate" a priceless Benin mask from a London museum. The result is a timely meditation on what art institutions owe us and the cultures they plunder. —EMB
The Right of the People by Osita Nwanevu (Random House)
Taking up some of the most monumental political questions of our day, including the viability of America's founding institutions, this treatise from Nwanevu, an editor at the New Republic, is essential reading for anyone who feels their hopes for democratic reform floundering. —SLS
The New Lesbian Pulp ed. Sarah Fonseca and Octavia Saenz (Feminist Press)
Who doesn't love pulp fiction, the more melodramatic the better? This collection is a heady mix of 1950s-era lesbian pulp and newer material that turns up a notch or two the classic tropes of romantic peril, unbridled passion, and revenge. —Claire Kirch
Women, Seated by Zhang Yueran, tr. Jeremy Tiang (Riverhead)
In this propulsive translation, a nanny witnesses a wealthy Chinese family’s fall from grace—all while knowing their darkest secrets and caring for their only son. —EMB
The El by Theodore C. Van Alst Jr. (Vintage)
Van Alst Jr.'s semi-autobiographical novel, inspired by Sol Yurick's The Warriors, follows a group of teenage gang members in Chicago who trek across the city to attend a high-profile gathering of gangs. —SMS
Where Are You Really From by Elaine Hsieh Chou (Penguin Press)
In Chou's clever collection, which includes short stories and a novella, features a cast of characters who invariably find themselves in extraordinary situations that shake up their sense of self and make them reconsider their place in the world. —CK
The New Negro ed. Martha H. Patterson and Henry Louis Gates Jr. (Princeton UP)
This anthology, coedited by the great Skip Gates, spanning 1887-1937 chronicles how generations of Black thinkers from W.E.B Du Bois to Oscar Micheaux to Zora Neale Hurston conceptualized and debated the idea of the "New Negro." —SMS
The Quiet Ear by Raymond Antrobus (Hogarth)
Antrobus's memoir untangles his knotty relationship to his own deafness, exploring the "missing sounds" that shaped his life and the sense of in-betweenness that long defined both his aural ability and racial identity. —SMS
Dominion by Addie E. Citchens (FSG)
The debut novel from the inaugural FSG Writer's Fellow is a Black Southern family drama that wrestles with sin, silence, and patriarchy in a small Mississippi town. —SMS
Mounted by Bitter Kalli (HarperOne)
As Beyoncé and others push us to reconsider the legacy of the cowboy, Kalli explores how intertwined Blackness, nationhood, and horses have been throughout history. —EMB
Patchwork by Tom Comitta (Coffee House)
For fans of Burroughs's cut-up tradition, Comitta's latest is a fresh experiment in the limits of literary collage. Using illustrations and passages from classic literature, the Nature Book author fashions a playful story about the search for a missing snuff box, full of sensory surprises and curiosities of craft. —SLS
Archipelago by Natalie Bakopoulos (Tin House)
This atmospherically rich book, which follows an unnamed translator at an artists' residency on a Croatian island, is also chock-full of thought-provoking commentary on authorship and creative identity. —SLS
Baldwin by Nicholas Boggs (FSG)
Boggs's door-stopper of a biography—the first of Baldwin in three decades—examines how the visionary author's intimate and artistic relationships with four men shaped his life and work. —SMS
Hothouse Bloom by Austyn Wohlers (Hub City)
Wohlers's debut novel follows a young woman who arrives at her late grandfather's apple orchard with the intention of giving up her painting career and social life in order to become one with the trees—until the appearance of an old friend upends her plans. —SMS
A Truce That Is Not Peace by Miriam Toews (Bloomsbury)
Marking the first time in two decades that Toews has written about her own life in nonfiction, this memoir is a poignant meditation upon her sister’s suicide, the urge to write, and the limits of memory. —EMB
Two Serious Ladies by Jane Bowles (Picador)
Bowles's 1943 novel—her only one, now with a new introduction from Sheila Heti—is a modernist tale about two upper-class women who eschew convention and embrace debauchery. —SMS
Katabasis by R.F. Kuang (HarperCollins)
Fans of Babel will not be disappointed by Kuang's latest dark-academia epic, which follows an honors graduate student in "Analytical Magick" and her rival as they embark on a Dantesque journey to rescue her advisor from the underworld. —SLS
Such Great Heights by Chris DeVille (St. Martin's)
This cultural history of the indie rock explosion—from Neutral Milk Hotel and Death Cab to Sufjan and the National—would have blown my teenage self's mind. It is total catnip to adult-me as well. —SMS
September
Mother Mary Comes to Me by Arundhati Roy (Scribner)
In electrifying, intimate prose, Roy's first memoir traces the her complex relationship with her mother, Mary and how it shaped the person—and writer—she ultimately became. —EMB
The Woman Dies by Aoko Matsuda, tr. Polly Barton (Europa)
Following her last collection Where the Wild Ladies Are, Matsuda's latest stays focused on the absurdities and traumas of sexism in Japan, presenting 52 fresh, subversive stories that call to mind Shirley Jackson's short works. —SLS
Trip by Amie Barrodale (FSG)
Barrodale's debut novel follows Sandra, who dies suddenly at a death conference in Nepal and must set off on a quest in the afterlife to help her son, who is both literally and metaphorically lost at sea. —SMS
Beyond All Reasonable Doubt, Jesus Is Alive! by Melissa Lozada-Oliva (Astra House)
Magic, humor, and faith ground Lozada-Oliva’s story collection, which features beheaded bodies, bizarre video games, sentient tails, and haunted punk houses. —EMB
Miss Ruki by Fumiko Takano, tr. Alexa Frank (NYRC)
Frank's translation brings this lighthearted manga into English for the first time. Originally published in Japan in the 1980s, the eponymous protagonist is an offbeat young woman who rejects the rat race for a slower, more intentional life. —SLS
The Improbable Victoria Woodhull by Eden Collinsworth (Doubleday)
At once celebrated and maligned, the 19th-century businesswoman and activist at the center of Collinsworth's biography dipped her toe in everything from mysticism to free love to an unprecedented presidential campaign. —EMB
The Wax Child by Olga Ravn, tr. Martin Aitken (ND)
An unlikely narrator guides this visceral horror story: a wax doll created by an unmarried noblewoman accused of witchcraft. Through the eyes of this doll, we witness—with startling clarity—the brutality and fear that ruled 17th-century Denmark. —EMB
Grace Period by Maria Judite de Carvalho, tr. Margaret Jull Costa (Two Lines)
When de Carvalho's protagonist sets out to sell his childhood home to fund a trip for his dying girlfriend, he is forced to reckon with the 25 out-of-control years that separate him from his past, which is full of paralyzing love, pain, and apathy. —VMS
Reflections on Exile by Edward W. Said (Vintage)
This reissue of selected essays by the great scholar and critic Said, which features the particularly salient title essay on the fate of the Palestinian people, is just the book we need right now. —SMS
Middle Spoon by Alejandro Varela (Viking)
As polyamory and open relationships gain cultural relevance, Varela's subversive and generous novel considers the sting of rejection and heartbreak from the perspective of its married narrator who has just been dumped by his younger boyfriend. —EMB
Tracker by Alexis Wright (ND)
Decorated novelist Wright returns to nonfiction with a portrait of an influential Aboriginal Australian leader conveyed through collective storytelling, providing a window into Aboriginal culture as it narrates a moment in 20th-century Australian politics. —SLS
The Sweet Dove Died by Barbara Pym (NYRB)
Pym's shrewd and ahead-of-its-time 1978 novel about a women's attachment to a much younger man is back in a new edition from NYRB, featuring an intro from Loved and Missed author Susie Boyt. —SMS
Helen of Nowhere by Makenna Goodman (Coffee House)
The country home around which Goodman's story coalesces is no ordinary haunted house. Through the eyes of a male protagonist, readers feel the titular spirit Helen at once as an intimately tangible presence and a harbinger of the existential stakes of starting one's life over again. —VMS
The Animal on the Rock by Daniela Tarazona, tr. Lizzie Davis and Kevin Gerry Dunn (Deep Vellum)
After the death of her mother, a woman named Irma holes up on a faraway beach to grieve and, the process, undergoes a supernatural metamorphosis in the Mexican author's latest. —SMS
A Silent Treatment by Jeannie Vanasco (Tin House)
Vanasco's memoir looks at how silence is wielded and weaponized through the lens of her own complicated relationship with her mother. —SMS
The Lack of Light by Nino Haratischwili, tr. Charlotte Collin and Ruth Martin (HarperVia)
This sprawling, densely populated saga charts the lead-up to and fallout from Georgia's independence from the Soviet Union through the lives of four childhood friends. —SMS
The Wilderness by Angela Flournoy (Mariner)
The brilliant sophomore novel from the National Book Award finalist follows five Black women across two decades as they attempt to shape their lives on their own terms. —VMS
Surviving Paris by Robin Allison Davis (Amistad)
We've all dreamed of escaping to Paris and living "la vie en rose." Davis, a Black woman and journalist, has written a memoir of how she did just that, but things did not go exactly as she'd hoped: Davis was diagnosed with breast cancer and had to contend with it far away from her loved ones, all while trying to find her way amid a foreign culture. —CK
Bird School by Adam Nicolson (FSG)
It’s a slippery slope from looking up a little brown bird on Cornell’s Merlin app to becoming an all-season birder. For Nicolson, a recognition of nesting species led to setting up a shed to watch wildlife year round. The book's British setting covers only a narrow range of birds, but its sentiments are universal; the world might have greater peace and sounder environmental policies if everyone took up birding. —NodB
Animal Stories by Kate Zambreno (Transit)
Zambreno is one of our most inventive and formally daring writers, and their latest work of nonfiction—a meditation on mortality, alienation, boredom, surveillance, and the animal kingdom—sees them at the height of their powers. —SMS
Do Admit: The Mitford Sisters and Me by Mimi Pond (D&Q)
Pond crafts a graphic narrative biography of the six Mitford sisters, among them writers Jessica and Nancy. Raised in a deteriorating English country manse, the early 20th-century socialites were known for differences of opinion around Empire and fascism. Pond paints the upper crust scene in prim navy, cool periwinkle, and powder blue. —NodB
Kaplan's Plot by Jason Diamond (Flatiron)
Centered on a son who returns to Chicago to be with his dying mother, Diamond's debut novel is a stunning story of how families bend to accommodate the unspoken, and how, every once in a while, a tenacious individual might straighten things out. —VMS
Articulate by Rachel Kolb (Ecco)
The deaf writer's deft debut memoir probes the many meanings of language, voice, and communication through the lens of her own attempts to harness speech and be perceived as "articulate." —SMS
For the Sun After Long Nights by Fatemeh Jamalpour and Nilo Tabrizy (Pantheon)
Iranian journalists Jamalpour and Tabrizy chronicle the 2022 women-led protests in Iran over the murder of Kurdish woman Mahsa Jîna Amini at the hands of police, catalyzing one of the country's largest uprisings in decades: the Woman, Life, Freedom movement. —SMS
The Waterbearers by Sasha Bonét (Knopf)
Bonét's profound ode to Black womanhood narrates the history of America through generations of Black mothers and daughters—including her own. —SMS
Discontent by Beatriz Serrano, tr. Mara Faye Lethem (Vintage)
When Marisa goes on a company retreat with her unhinged coworkers, the lies she's built her whole successful, fine-art-appreciating persona around are threatened to be exposed. What ensues is like a car crash you can't look away from—if a car crash was as hilarious and well-crafted as Serrano's writing. —SLS
It's Me They Follow by Jeannine Cook (Amistad)
Cook, founder and owner of the beloved Harriett's Bookshop in Philly, debuts with a romance starring a bookseller who becomes a reluctant matchmaker. —SMS
Will There Ever Be Another You by Patricia Lockwood (Riverhead)
After a bout with Covid, a successful author reckons with a dissolving sense of self and struggles to maintain her public persona, in this fictive exploration of consciousness. The No One Is Talking About This author conveys her protagonist’s dissociation and memory loss, heightened when her husband becomes ill and requires her care. —NodB
Goliath's Curse by Luke Kemp (Knopf)
The state of the world seems uniquely grim today—but haven't people always thought so? Kemp's sweeping survey charts the surprising history of societal collapse, bringing some (not always comforting) perspective to our own troubling reality. —SMS
We Love You Bunny by Mona Awad (S&S/Marysue Rucci)
Awad returns with another darkly comedic novel set in the "Bunny-verse," after her 2019 cult classic Bunny, about a lonely MFA student who gets seduced by a creepy clique. —SMS
Electric Spark by Frances Wilson (FSG)
The enigmatic Scottish writer Muriel Spark gets her due in Wilson's illuminating biography, which aims to demystify its stubbornly elusive but endlessly fascinating subject. —SMS
Beings by Ilana Masad (Bloomsbury)
Masad's second novel, after All My Mother's Lovers, weaves together three narratives—two set in the 1960s and one in the present—of love, loneliness, and supernatural encounters. —SMS
Cécé by Emmelie Prophète, tr. Aidan Rooney (Archipelago)
Immersed in the atmosphere and people of a Haitian cité, Prophète's titular protagonist attempts to claw a life for herself out of the hands of gangs, junkies, grandmothers, and preachers. With her morbid internet following on one side and the pressures of sex work on the other, Cécé is an imperfect and deeply human testament to female resiliency. —SLS
The Autobiography of H. Lan Thao Lam by Lana Lin (Dorothy)
Taking inspiration from Gertrude Stein's The Autobiography of Alice B. Toklas, Lin chronicles her partner Lan Thao's life and work in this genre-defying portrait. —SMS
To the Moon and Back by Eliana Ramage (Avid)
Ramage's ambitious and big-hearted debut novel follows one young woman across three decades and multiple continents on her quest to become the first Cherokee astronaut. —SMS
A Year in Reading: 2024
Welcome to the 20th (!) installment of The Millions' annual Year in Reading series, which gathers together some of today's most exciting writers and thinkers to share the books that shaped their year. YIR is not a collection of yearend best-of lists; think of it, perhaps, as an assemblage of annotated bibliographies. We've invited contributors to reflect on the books they read this year—an intentionally vague prompt—and encouraged them to approach the assignment however they choose.
In writing about our reading lives, as YIR contributors are asked to do, we inevitably write about our personal lives, our inner lives. This year, a number of contributors read their way through profound grief and serious illness, through new parenthood and cross-country moves. Some found escape in frothy romances, mooring in works of theology, comfort in ancient epic poetry. More than one turned to the wisdom of Ursula K. Le Guin. Many describe a book finding them just when they needed it.
Interpretations of the assignment were wonderfully varied. One contributor, a music critic, considered the musical analogs to the books she read, while another mapped her reads from this year onto constellations. Most people's reading was guided purely by pleasure, or else a desire to better understand events unfolding in their lives or larger the world. Yet others centered their reading around a certain sense of duty: this year one contributor committed to finishing the six Philip Roth novels he had yet to read, an undertaking that he likens to “eating a six-pack of paper towels.” (Lucky for us, he included in his essay his final ranking of Roth's oeuvre.)
The books that populate these essays range widely, though the most commonly noted title this year was Tony Tulathimutte’s story collection Rejection. The work of newly minted National Book Award winner Percival Everett, particularly his acclaimed novel James, was also widely read and written about. And as the genocide of Palestinians in Gaza enters its second year, many contributors sought out Isabella Hammad’s searing, clear-eyed essay Recognizing the Stranger.
Like so many endeavors in our chronically under-resourced literary community, Year in Reading is a labor of love. The Millions is a one-person editorial operation (with an invaluable assist from SEO maven Dani Fishman), and producing YIR—and witnessing the joy it brings contributors and readers alike—has been the highlight of my tenure as editor. I’m profoundly grateful for the generosity of this year’s contributors, whose names and entries will be revealed below over the next three weeks, concluding on Wednesday, December 18. Be sure to subscribe to The Millions’ free newsletter to get the week’s entries sent straight to your inbox each Friday.
—Sophia Stewart, editor
Becca Rothfeld, author of All Things Are Too Small
Carvell Wallace, author of Another Word for Love
Charlotte Shane, author of An Honest Woman
Brianna Di Monda, writer and editor
Nell Irvin Painter, author of I Just Keep Talking
Carrie Courogen, author of Miss May Does Not Exist
Ayşegül Savaş, author of The Anthropologists
Zachary Issenberg, writer
Tony Tulathimutte, author of Rejection
Ann Powers, author of Traveling: On the Path of Joni Mitchell
Lidia Yuknavitch, author of Reading the Waves
Nicholas Russell, writer and critic
Daniel Saldaña París, author of Planes Flying Over a Monster
Lili Anolik, author of Didion and Babitz
Deborah Ghim, editor
Emily Witt, author of Health and Safety
Nathan Thrall, author of A Day in the Life of Abed Salama
Lena Moses-Schmitt, author of True Mistakes
Jeremy Gordon, author of See Friendship
John Lee Clark, author of Touch the Future
Ellen Wayland-Smith, author of The Science of Last Things
Edwin Frank, publisher and author of Stranger Than Fiction
Sophia Stewart, editor of The Millions
A Year in Reading Archives: 2023, 2022, 2021, 2020, 2019, 2018, 2017, 2016, 2015, 2014, 2013, 2011, 2010, 2009, 2008, 2007, 2006, 2005
A Year in Reading: Ismail Muhammad
I’d never been inside of
a prison until this past spring, when I received a grant to teach a creative
writing workshop at the Contra Costa County Juvenile Hall facility. This meant
driving every Tuesday morning for two months to Martinez, California, a sleepy
city to Oakland’s north, until I arrived at a squat, nondescript beige building
set off from the street by oak trees and a huge visitor parking lot that was
always full. Usually I parked on the street, which extended on into the
distance until it curved around into a residential neighborhood—California
ranches, two car garages, various shades of beige and gray. From the
neighborhood, not a single aspect of the prison was visible.
The strip mall parking
lot aside, the juvenile hall was an unassuming element of the neighborhood: it
featured a boxy modernist design, a pleasant little courtyard just out front,
and a sleek glass façade. If not for the signage indicating that I had indeed
stumbled upon a prison, I would have assumed I was walking into the local high
school, with its boxy Modernist structure, pleasant courtyard, and glass
façade.
The interior trashed that
illusion. When I arrived for a February meeting with prison authorities to
discuss the workshop’s logistics, a security guard barked at me from behind
bulletproof glass—rules required that I trade my driver’s license for a guest
badge. I felt a vague, animal discomfort about the exchange. The prison
librarian, a woman about my age whose easy smile and buoyant personality calmed
my nerves, arrived in the lobby and ushered me into the facility’s innards. The
prison revealed itself to be a seemingly endless labyrinth of identically spare
white cinderblock hallways leading to unmarked doors that opened up onto yet
more cinderblock hallways. There was little signage indicating what turns took
you where, but the librarian kept a quick pace. She whipped her away suddenly
around corners without much warning; I scampered after her. My shoes slipped about
on concrete floors so polished that I could almost see my reflection in them. I
wondered whether, if left to fend for myself, I’d ever find my way back out.
What would happen if a security guard caught me wandering the halls, if he
didn’t see my badge?
The librarian and I
chatted the entire way, about how excited the students were to meet me, how
relieved they were to encounter somebody new, how much they were looking
forward to writing. We approached one of the doors; the librarian stopped dead
in her tracks, but didn’t stop talking. I must have looked confused; “We have
to wait for the guards to open the door,” she explained. We stood for a few
seconds before a voice boomed from out of a speaker I could not find. “Tell him
to show his badge,” someone commanded. Startled, I lifted the badge from my
chest, offering it to a camera I knew was there but could not see.
We walked through, into
the prison’s center, and were immediately met by a group of boys, marching
slowly down yet another cinderblock hall. Something about their bodies—the
limited range and uniformity of their movements, the way they shuffled their
feet instead of lifting them from the ground, the way their heads bent so that
their faces were nearly parallel to the buffed concrete—was off. It took me a
few seconds to process what I was seeing: black and brown teenage boys being
marched single file by a CO, their hands and feet shackled to a single chain. They
appeared younger than I had imagined, their faces puffy with baby fat. Not a
single one of them looked older than 19, and when they lifted their heads,
their eyes met mine with a mix of hatred and shame.
That day, I left the
prison with sadness and doubt swirling in my gut. What was my presence in that place and with
those boys meant to do? Was I just legitimizing the prison’s dehumanization of
black and brown youth? I had volunteered for the workshop out of some hazy
notion that I’d change how marginalized youth thought about their world, give
them the tools to represent their own lives via story. But the sight of those
shackles made my vision seem flimsy in comparison.
My experience in the prison sent me on a yearlong search for literature with the heft of reality—not of this reality, but another one, to remind myself that writing could conjure entirely worlds altogether different from the one I’d encountered in the prison. Before the first workshop session, I sent my students a poem—“Alternate Names for Black Boys,” a stand out from Danez Smith’s 2014 book [insert] boy, which I had read that spring upon the recommendation of an artist friend. Smith’s poetry feels religious in essence, in the way it insists that there has to be another world beyond this one, where black bodies are imprisoned, shot, choked out, electrocuted, subject to an endless series of horrors. There has to be another world, they insist, and we have to make it, together. In the poem “Poem Where I Be & You Just Might,” Smith writes: “God’s flaming eye, I stare into it always/Dying to blink, irises cracking like commandment stones.” Their language is incredibly visceral, urging the reader on to this bodily encounter with the divine—an encounter we can only begin to envision through communion with one another—moved me to tears when I first read [insert] boy. I’d hoped that my class, a gathering of black and brown boys, would find it an appropriate starting point for our workshop.
Smith sent me on a poetry bender, as I’m wont to do during the summers. Simone White’s Dear Angel of Death was my biggest summer obsession: it’s a patience-testing monster of a book that blends essay and poetry in order to rethink the prominence that music enjoys in African American studies. Smith is interested in how the tightknit relationship between a mostly male-dominated jazz canon constructs a strain of black studies that conflates “feeling black” with an immersion in black music. For her, this intellectual legacy forecloses some larger questions about blackness, and leads us to automatically associate any black music with radical black resistance. Her prose—audacious, often moving in two directions at once, infused with the ethos of the black vernacular, informed by hip hop culture but never succumbing to sentimentality about the music—is never less than riveting. Turning her attention to the rapper Future’s 2015 song “I Serve the Base”—an ode to being an unrepentant scumbag—Smith is decisive: undue commitment to music as an object of black study leads us to excuse a music that will serve “Whatever you want … for money, for a nihilistic, endlessly repetitive and narcotized kind of peace … the call to recede into the persona of whatever it is one serves.”
Jasmine Gibson’s Don’t Let Them See Me Like This was also impressive. It’s a poetry collection that manages to be simultaneously tender and incisively political. In “Electric Wizard,” she writes, “In which panel do I get to be Fred Moten or/Frantz Fanon, so that you can think my words are pretty too?//I want myself against everything/Stay there and be burned into the mind/Into the mind,” and I love the way that third line turns on a minute shift, from trenchant disdain for a world built on white supremacy into something like desire, the will to be “against everything,” as Mark Greif would have it, turning into the yearning for bodily proximity. For me, the collection’s incessant flitting between anger and sensuality destabilized what it means to undertake a radical politics, moving us away from a hardened antagonism and into something more receptive: an attention to the sensuality of black bodies, and all the ways they can be in the world.
I read plenty of good prose, too, that spoke to that sense of possibility. Jamel Brinkley’s A Lucky Man is a collection of short fiction so masterful that you can’t help but put the book down to marvel at the architecture of his language. Brinkley’s virtue is that he doesn’t settle for merely representing black life (a black Greek party soundtracked by Ol’ Dirty Bastard’s “Brooklyn Zoo,” for example); instead, he uses fiction as a space in which to reveal the sense of enchantment that undergirds black life. By the end of “No More Than a Bubble,” Brinkley managed to make me think so deeply about the series of performances known collectively as “black masculinity” that he made me reconsider what the short story form is capable of. Kiese Laymon’s memoir Heavy performs similar alchemy, drawing our attention to the physical experience of black masculinity. Laymon asks us to think about what happens when black male bodies fail to mirror the images that the American cultural imaginary is always comparing us to. In doing so, he has also written an aesthetically gorgeous bildungsroman of the assorted tragedies, affections, and traditions that turned him into a writer.
There was so much more that I read and enjoyed this year. I’m a Californian, and it delighted me to no end to see an outpouring of literature by and about fellow Californians. There were a few highlights for me. Lydia Kiesling’s The Golden State is at once a hilarious examination of poor white culture in Northern California’s far flung rural counties, and a harrowing portrait of single motherhood. Kiesling’s juxtaposition of motherhood and an incipient political crisis seems to equate the governance of tantrum-throwing Californians with the raising of tantrum-throwing children. Vanessa Hua’s A River of Stars is a vivid portrait of an urban community of immigrants. Wandering City Lights Books in San Francisco over the summer, I found a copy of Wanda Coleman’s Native in A Strange Land, a collection of prose poems and short stories about Los Angeles that evoke the loneliness, but also the enchantment, of being black in a city that has normalized alienation. Joan Didion’s Where I Was From made me reflect on my family’s scant presence in the state, such that I can’t think of California as a place that I’m from so much as a place that I ended up via a few historical aberrations: my maternal grandparents’ decisions to abandon Louisiana so they could become shipbuilders down at San Pedro.
More than anything else that I read this year, those two books made me appreciate the unlikeliness of my black life here in this golden state—the persistence and tenacity that preceded me and resulted in my being here at all. It’s a lesson that, after walking out of that prison, I needed to relearn.
More from A Year in Reading 2018
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Don’t miss: A Year in Reading 2017, 2016, 2015, 2014, 2013, 2012, 2011, 2010, 2009, 2008, 2007, 2006, 2005
A Year in Reading: Garth Risk Hallberg
"In the early morning on the lake sitting in the stern of the boat with his father rowing, he felt quite sure that he would never die." Ever since I turned 40—that is to say, for a week now—this final sentence of Hemingway's "Indian Camp" has been rattling around my head. When I first read it, back in college, it landed like a hard left hook, knocking me flat with recognition. (I can't be alone in this; Cormac McCarthy nicked the phrasing for the end of Blood Meridian.) Right, I thought. Exactly. But now, revisiting the end of "Indian Camp,"' I see that my younger self was missing at least half the point: It's supposed to be ironic! Of course he's going to die! In fact, maybe that's why the line has been on my mind, along with Dante's "mezzo del camin di nostra vita" and Yeats's "widening gyre" and Larkin's "long slide." For though I've managed to avoid until now the garment-rending and gnashing of teeth around birthdays ("Age ain't nothing but a number," right?) forty really does feel like a delineation. At 39, rocking the Aaliyah quote is still a youthful caprice. At 41, it's a midlife crisis.
And the fact that I'm no longer immortal would seem to raise some questions about the pursuit I've more or less given my life to: reading. Specifically, if you can't take it with you, what's the point? Indeed, I now wonder whether the bouts of reader's block I suffered in 2014 and 2017 had to do not with technological change or familial or political crisis, but with the comparatively humdrum catastrophe of getting older. Yet 2018 found me rejuvenated as a reader. Maybe there was some compensatory quality-control shift in my "to-read" pile (life's too short for random Twitter) or maybe it was just dumb luck, but nearly every book I picked up this year seemed proof of its own necessity. So you'll forgive me if I enthuse here at length.
First and foremost, about Halldór Laxness's Independent People. This Icelandic classic had been on my reading list for almost a decade, but something—its bulk, its ostensible subject (sheep farming), its mythic opening—held me back. Then, this summer, I took a copy to Maine, and as soon as Bjartur of Summerhouses blustered onto the page, the stubbornest hero in all of world literature, I was hooked. As for those sheep: This is a novel about them only in the sense that Lonesome Dove is a novel about cows. And though I love Lonesome Dove, Independent People is much the better book. Laxness's storytelling offers epic sweep and power, but also, in J.A. Thompson's stunning translation, modernist depth and daring, along with humor and beauty and pain to rival Tolstoy. In short, Independent People is one of my favorite novels ever.
Also among the best things I read in 2018 were the shorter works that padded out my northern travels: Marilynne Robinson's Housekeeping and the novels of Jenny Erpenbeck. I'm obviously late arriving to the former; there's not much I can say that you won't have heard elsewhere, or experienced yourself. (Still: the prose!) Of the latter, I can report that The End of Days is ingenious, as if David Mitchell had attempted Sebald’s The Emigrants. And that Go, Went, Gone, notwithstanding Jonathan Dee's careful gift-horse inspection in Harper's, is even better. But for my money, Erpenbeck's finest novel is Visitation, which manages to pack much of the story of 20th-century Germany into the 190-page description of a country house. In any case, Erpenbeck's writing, like Robinson's, seems built to endure.
On the nonfiction front, I spent a week this fall immersed in Thomas de Zengotita's Politics and Postmodern Theory, a heady, lucid, and ultimately persuasive philosophical recasting of nearly a half-century of academic kulturkampf. Much as Wittgenstein (who gets a chapter here) claimed to resolve certain problems of philosophy by showing them to arise from elementary confusions, de Zengotita seeks to dispel muddles over the legacy of post-structuralism and the Enlightenment thought it ostensibly dismantled. He does so by giving key 20th-century thinkers—Kristeva, Derrida, Deleuze, Judith Butler—a rereading that is rigorous, respectful, accessible, and, in important ways, against the grain. As an etiology of the current cultural situation, this book belongs on a shelf with Frederic Jameson's Postmodernism and David Harvey's The Condition of Postmodernity. And, notwithstanding its price tag, anyone who cares deeply about issues of identity and solidarity and being-in-the-world today should heed its lessons.
This was also a year when the new-fiction tables at the bookstore seemed reinvigorated. For my money, the best American novel of 2018 was Rachel Kushner's The Mars Room, whose urgent blend of social conscience and poetic vision made debates about "reality hunger" and the value of fiction seem not just quaint but fallacious. So, too, with Mathias Énard's Compass, now in paperback in a crystalline translation by Charlotte Mandell. It would be hard to find a novel more indebted to historical reality, but in its fearless imagination, Compass turns these materials into something properly fictive, rather than factitious—and wholly Énard's own. And I'd be remiss not to mention Deborah Eisenberg's story collection Your Duck Is My Duck. Eisenberg writes the American sentence better than anyone else alive, and for anyone who’s followed these stories as they've appeared, serially, her brilliance is a given. Read together, though, they’re a jolting reminder of her continued necessity: her resistance to everything that would dull our brains, hearts, and nerves.
And then you could have made a National Book Awards shortlist this year entirely out of debuts. One of the most celebrated was Jamel Brinkley's A Lucky Man. What I loved about these stories, apart from the Fitzgeraldian grace of Brinkley's voice, was their tendency to go several steps beyond where a more timid writer might have stopped—to hurl characters and images and incidents well downfield of what the story strictly required and then race to catch up. More important than being uniformly successful, A Lucky Man is uniformly interesting. As is Lisa Halliday's Asymmetry. The "unexpected" coda, in my read, put a too-neat bow on things. I'd have enjoyed it even more as an unresolved diptych. But because the novel’s range and hunger are so vast, such asymmetries end up being vital complications of its interests and themes: artifice, power, subjectivity, and truth. They are signs of a writer who aims to do more than simply write what is within her power to know.
Any list of auspicious recent debuts should also include one from the other side of the pond: David Keenan's This Is Memorial Device (from 2017, but still). The novel presents—tantalizingly, for me—as an oral history of the postpunk scene in the Scottish backwater of Airdrie in the early 1980s, yet Keenan's psychedelic prose and eccentric emphases make it something even more. I was reminded frequently of Roberto Bolaño's The Savage Detectives, and could not fathom why this book was overlooked in the U.S. Hopefully, the publication of a follow-up For the Good Times, will change that.
It was a good year for journalism, too. I'm thinking not of Michael Wolff or (God forbid) Bob Woodward, but of Sam Anderson, the critic at large for The New York Times Magazine, and his first book, Boom Town. If there’s one thing less immediately exciting to me than sheep farming, it’s Oklahoma City, which this book promises (threatens?) to explore. On the other hand, I would read Sam Anderson on just about anything. Here, starting with the Flaming Lips, the land-rush of 1889, and the unlikely rise of the NBA’s Oklahoma City Thunder, he stages a massive detonation of curiosity, sensibility, and wonder. (Favorite sentence: "Westbrook, meanwhile, started the season Westbrooking as hard as he could possibly Westbrook.") And as with David Foster Wallace or John Jeremiah Sullivan, he leaves you feeling restored to curiosity and wonder yourself.
I'm also thinking of Pam Kelley's Money Rock, which focuses on the drug trade in 1980s Charlotte. It reminded me, in miniature, of a great book I’d read a few months earlier, David Simon's sprawling Homicide. Simon and Kelley are sure-handed when sketching the social systems within which we orbit, but what makes these books live is their feel for the human swerve—for Detective Terry McLarney of the Baltimore Homicide Squad or Lamont "Money Rock" Belton, locked up behind the crack game.
This was also the year I started reading J. Anthony Lukas, who, among the ranks of New or New-ish Journalists who emerged in the ’60s, seems to have fallen into comparative neglect. I checked out Nightmare, his book on Nixon, and was edified. Then I moved on to Common Ground, about the struggle to integrate Boston's school system, and was blown away. With little authorial commentary or judgment, but with exhaustive reporting, Lukas embeds with three families—the Waymons, the McGoffs, and the Drivers—to give us a 360-degree view of a pivotal event in American history. The book has its longeurs, but I can think of few working journalists this side of Adrian Nicole Leblanc who’d be patient enough to bring off its parallactic vision.
In talking to friends about Common Ground, I kept hearing memories of its ubiquity on the coffeetables and library shelves of the 1980s, yet no one my age seemed to have read it. Like Homicide, it hangs in that long middle age where books slowly live or die—not news anymore, but not yet old enough to fall out of print, or to become a "classic." Recommending these books feels like it might actually make a difference between the two. So here are a few more shout-outs: 1) John Lanchester, The Debt to Pleasure, from 1996. Anyone who relishes, as I do, the fundamental sanity of Lanchester's essays will be surprised by the demented glee of his first novel. Its prophetic sendup of foodie affectation throws Proust into a blender with Humbert Humbert and Patrick Suskind's Perfume—and is maybe the funniest English novel since The Information. 2) Javier Cercas, Soldiers of Salamis, from 2001. I ran down a copy in preparation for interviewing Cercas and ended up thinking this may be my favorite of his books: a story of survival during the Spanish Civil War and of an attempt to recover the truth half a century later. In it, the heroic and the mock-heroic achieve perfect balance. 3) Emma Richler, Be My Wolff, from last year. Impressed by the beauty of Richler's writing and the uncommon intelligence of her characters, I sent in a blurb for this one just under the deadline for publication, but still 50 pages from the end. When I finally got around to finishing it early this year, I found I'd missed the best part. I love this novel's passionate idiosyncrasies.
And finally...back to Scandinavia. In August, while luxuriating in Independent People, I was asked to review CoDEX 1962, a trilogy by the Icelandic writer Sjón. This in turn forced me to put aside the introduction I’d been working on for the Danish Nobel Prize-winner Henrik Pontoppidan’s magnum opus, Lucky Per...which meant a further delay in finishing Book 6 of the Norwegian Karl Ove Knausgaard’s My Struggle. With more than 3000 pages of Nordic writing before me, I felt certain warning signals flashing. As Knausgaard writes (of being 40), “Why had I chosen to organize my life this way?” The truth is that there was no organization involved, just a random clumping of the reading list, and I’m happy to report that things are now back to normal. But once I got past the anxiety, I actually enjoyed my two solid months of Nordic fiction. I wasn’t totally convinced by CoDEX 1962, but a couple of Sjón’s shorter novels killed me—especially Moonstone, a coming-of-age story set in Rekjavik in the cataclysmic early days of cinema. And though most of Pontoppidan’s corpus hasn’t been translated into English, the novellas The Royal Guest, The Polar Bear, and The Apothecary’s Daughters, make fascinating companions to Joyce, Conrad, and Chekhov...if you can find them. (Lucky Per will be republished by Everyman's Library in April.) As for Knausgaard, the final volume of My Struggle is one of the more uneven of the six, and I’m still digesting the whole. But at this point almost a decade of my life is bound up with these books. All these books, really. And that strange adjacency of real, finite life and the limitless life of the imagination...well, maybe that's been the point all along.
More from A Year in Reading 2018
Do you love Year in Reading and the amazing books and arts content that The Millions produces year round? We are asking readers for support to ensure that The Millions can stay vibrant for years to come. Please click here to learn about several simple ways you can support The Millions now.
Don’t miss: A Year in Reading 2017, 2016, 2015, 2014, 2013, 2012, 2011, 2010, 2009, 2008, 2007, 2006, 2005
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A Year in Reading: Lucy Tan
2018 has been—for us all, I think—a year full of fear and alarm. For that reason, it was also a year in which my reading habits changed. I’ve been reading compulsively, not only for curiosity and solace but also for distraction. Overwhelmed by the news, I’ve been reading less nonfiction than I usually do. And because this is the year my first novel came out, I’ve also been keeping a closer watch on contemporary fiction. What I’ve come to realize in 2018, more than any other year, is that books really can provide relief (and in some cases, answers). Here are the ones that—through some combination of truth, beauty, and intrigue—have made my life richer.
In January, Chloe Benjamin’s The Immortalists was released. The first time I encountered it, I read for a few hours straight, standing upright in a stranger’s kitchen. The book is so good I’d forgotten where I was. Soon after, I read Leni Zumas’s Red Clocks, which is my favorite feminist read of the year. It was frightening and empowering, and I wanted to talk about with everyone I knew. In the spring, I finished reading the story collection Elegy on Kinderklavier by Arna Bontemps Hemenway, about memory, identity, and war. I read it over a few months because each word is perfectly chosen, the emotional weight in each story perfectly calibrated. I also read The Friend by Sigrid Nunez, which hit me harder than a book has in a very long time. It made me think more deeply, first about what it means to be a writer, and second, about what it means to be a writer working right now.
This summer, something wonderful happened. What seems like a decade’s worth of fiction by Asian-American women was published all at once. Of those I read, I savored each one. The Incendiaries by R.O. Kwon is a lyrical feast. If You Leave Me by Crystal Hana Kim introduced me to Haemi, one of my favorite characters in all of literature. A River of Stars, by Vanessa Hua, is a page-turning, heart-filling novel about two immigrant women on the run with their newborn children. In Number One Chinese Restaurant, Lillian Li writes about community and love in a poignant, unforgettable way. What a range of worlds spanning time and space, what a wealth of talent! I am waiting for the opportunity to dive into The Ensemble by Aja Gabel, Bury What We Cannot Take by Kirsten Chen, Severance by Ling Ma, and All You Can Ever Know by Nicole Chung. The floodgates have opened for Asian-American stories, and I have a feeling they’re going to stay open. Next year, Susie Yang is publishing White Ivy, a novel remarkable in both scope and substance. Ocean Vuong’s highly anticipated debut novel, On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous, also hits shelves in 2019.
In the fall, I read Jamel Brinkley’s A Lucky Man and Tommy Orange’s There There, which were both urgent and moving. That Kind of Mother by Rumaan Alam is the smartest work of fiction I read in 2018. It’s a gorgeously written, complex, and unsettling book about motherhood and white privilege. I also want to talk about Asymmetry by Lisa Halliday, which is the most inventive and inspired book I’ve read this year. I loved it almost as much as Amy Bonnaffons’s hilarious and striking collection The Wrong Heaven, which sent me back to the blank page, wanting to play with form.
The best non-fiction book I read this year was by Beth Macy. Dopesick: Dealers, Doctors, and the Drug Company That Addicted America is a heart-wrenching and necessary look at the opioid crisis in America. Read this book and you may find yourself starting to understand our country in surprising ways, as I did.
The best mystery/thriller I read this year is a tie between The Perfect Nanny by Leslie Slimani and Then She Was Gone by Lisa Jewell. The former is a true literary thriller, psychologically disturbing and very well written. The latter is a book about a kidnapped dead girl. I’m generally through with stories about kidnapped dead girls, but I read this book upon recommendation, and I’m glad I did. It had me petrified, not only of the characters, but of my own theories about the novel’s resolution. Elegantly constructed and cleanly written, it’s well worth your time. I’ve also been enjoying 2018’s Best American Mystery Stories, edited by Louise Penny. T.C. Boyle has a story in there called “The Designee,” which is both suspenseful and heartbreaking.
I can’t forget to mention my brief obsession with the Japanese writer Hiromi Kawakami. Strange Weather in Tokyo, translated by Allison Markwell Powell, is a soul book for me. It gets at loneliness in a way I haven’t read in a long time. Xiaolu Guo is another writer I read this year whom I deeply admire. A Concise Chinese-English Dictionary for Lovers is a raw and often uncomfortable consideration of language and alienation. It spoke to the part of me that feels at home in neither America nor China.
I’ve been reading, but I’ve been listening, too. This year, I moved to Madison for a fellowship at the Wisconsin Institute for Creative Writing and became part of a community of emerging writers. We gather to read our work out loud. Hearing these authors’ poems and stories spoken in their own voices has given me life and sent me back to the writing desk with my head bowed and fire in my chest. Read this poem and essayby Natasha Oladokun, this poemby Chekwube Danladi, this book by Natalie Eilbert. I’ve had the rare pleasure of hearing Mary Terrier and Kate Wisel read from their novels-in-progress. These novels are very different from each other but both are devastating and bold, and already so sharp in their manuscript forms that I know they’ll take your heads off as soon as they’re published. Next September, we’ll be treated to Aria Aber’s first book of poetry, titled Nearby Is the Country They Call Life, which cannot arrive soon enough. And Emily Shetler’s fiction is as inviting and layered as the lives of the people in her stories.
Here’s a weird thing: I’ve also been reading me. In 2017, as I was going through my novel draft after draft with a red pen, begging tiny changes from my copyeditor at the very last minute, I thought to myself, In 2018 I’ll never have to read this novel again! That turned out to be the opposite of true. But I’ve come to find that I enjoy giving readings, where I can offer my characters a physical voice and a body to occupy in a specific time and place. It’s become clear to me how powerful it is to hear a human voice behind a narrative. As a person of color, it feels not dissimilar to finally seeing faces like mine on TV and in theaters as we play roles we’ve written or originated—something we’ve gotten to see much more of this year. Suffice it to say, I’ve begun to appreciate reading as an art form. 2018 is also the year in which I’ve embraced audiobooks—though of course, nothing will replace the sight and feel of a physical book in my hands. Currently, I’m listening to A Man Called Ove by Fredrick Backman, which is the only reason I know how to pronounce the name“Ove” (ooh-vuh).
What else have I been reading? Strong undergraduate writing from the students at the University of Wisconsin-Madison. The empathy and curiosity in my students’ fiction gives me hope not only for the state of literature but also for the state of our nation. In class, they want to discuss: Who has the right to tell this story? What are the implications of writing from first person point of view? What place does fiction have in politics, and politics in fiction? I don’t have all the answers, but together, we’re making study of it. This semester, we’ve been reading work by Danielle Evans, Justin Torres, Lorrie Moore, Jamel Brinkley, and Joann Beard.
Because it’s still November as I’m writing this, and because there’s not much else to do in the winter time in Madison besides drink, and in some cases, drive your car out onto the iced-over lake—neither of which I’m particularly good at—I’m going to end with a list of books I hope to read before the year is over. All come highly recommended: The Golden State by Lydia Kiesling, Visible Empire by Hannah Pittard, America for Beginners by Leah Franqui, and The Fruit of the Drunken Tree by Ingrid Rojas Contreras.
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A Year in Reading: Lauren Wilkinson
I didn’t read much during the first half of the year. Trying to finish up my own novel left me so exhausted, and at one point, so repelled by the creation of fiction that I could barely even look at a book. Which all seemed very much like something out of O. Henry: I’d started writing fiction because I love to read it and yet found myself unable to read because of what I was writing.
Funnily enough, the book that broke this curse was Enchantments: A Modern Witch’s Guide to Self-Possession by Mya Spalter. I picked it up because I aspire to project the appearance of self-possession—fake it until you make it, as they say. It’s a short book designed to remind its reader just how much power our intentions, habits, and rituals assert in our lives. I’m at my most functional when I’m fully engaged with this fact.
I read My Year of Rest and Relaxation by Ottessa Moshfegh, and the idea of taking a full year off from my own life to sleep was so appealing that it made me a little worried. At the time, I was feeling exhausted from writing, from work, from the news, from the bizarre way that time seemed to behave in 2018—somehow the beginning of the year feels like it was an eon ago. And yet, I don’t feel that I’m allowed to waste my own time, which makes me wonder if I suspect it doesn’t really belong to me.
I read two books of poetry this year, the first of which being Maps by John Freeman. As you might be able to tell from the title, it’s a strongly setting-oriented collection, and the focus on location was pleasantly grounding for me, even when the poems dealt with violence, grief, and other difficult subject matter. The second book was a re-read: IRL by Tommy Pico, who has been my closest friend for the last decade and a half. I revisited this book because I miss him—for the first time since we met we are no longer living in the same city; his departure was a quietly cataclysmic event that dominated the emotional landscape of my 2018. I love this book as I love Tommy, who is just as insightful and funny in person as he is on the page.
This year, I finally finished The Master and Margarita by Mikhail Bulgakov, which I’ve been reading since 2014. It’s a deeply weird book—the devil and his entourage show up in Soviet Moscow to torture the literati class, and Jesus and Pontius Pilate also appear in a few chapters. I doubt I would’ve kept reading it had it not been recommended to me by some good friends of mine whose taste I really like and respect. There was so much affection for me in this recommendation and so much affection for my friends in my desire to see the book through to the end. Which I’m glad I did. As it turned out, I ended up really liking and respecting the novel as well.
I read There, There by Tommy Orange, which made me extraordinarily jealous—I don’t know how someone writes so convincingly from multiple perspectives. I feel I will never be able to do this well, so of course it’s a feature of the next writing project I’m planning. Because of this project, which features a con artist, I read Fingersmith by Sarah Waters for inspiration. And I also read Up in the Old Hotel by Joseph Mitchell, because I think I’d like to set it in 1940s New York.
I bought The Golden State by Lydia Kiesling because when I heard her read an excerpt from it, I felt mesmerized by the prose. Kiesling is an arresting writer on the sentence level, which is a talent that makes me as jealous as the ability to write from multiple perspectives. I loved this book because of the way it depicts a mother’s love for her child: unsentimentally, honestly, and intensely. And as a form of love that can be lonely, even though the object of it is always present.
I read XX by Angela Chadwick, which is also about motherhood. I turned 34 this year, and don’t yet have children but want them, so I found myself thinking about motherhood quite a bit in 2018. In the novel, two women, Rosie and Jules, participate in a clinical trial that allows Rosie to get pregnant through a process called ovum-to-ovum fertilization—meaning that they’re both genetic parents to their child. In the world of the novel, as it would be in the real world, this is highly controversial for many reasons, not the least of which being that participants in the trial can only have female children. I love this premise and Chadwick plays it out through characters that are very emotionally compelling.
Earlier this month, I read Convenience Store Woman by Sayaka Murata, as I was coming home from a trip to London to visit my grandmother, who’d had a small stroke earlier in the year (she’s fine). It is a short, light book about a woman who feels that nothing “normal” (marriage, children, professional ambition) is right for her. Instead, she believes that her reason for being is to serve the needs of the convenience store she works in and its customers. I loved this novel because it made me laugh when I really needed it.
2018 was an excellent year for new books. There were a few others that I remember reading and wholeheartedly enjoying: If You Leave Me by Crystal Hana Kim, Friday Black by Nana Kwame Adjei-Brenyah, A Lucky Man by Jamel Brinkley, Heavy by Kiese Laymon and a galley of Cygnet by Season Butler, which will be out in 2019. I read more than a dozen books in the second half of the year, which is a lot for me because I’m not a particularly fast reader. I read so much because I wasn’t writing, which means my year in reading illustrates something very true about me: I either go all out or I don’t go at all. In 2018, I became inescapably aware of this, and as the year comes to a close, I’m trying to develop better habits that will lead me toward a more balanced 2019. Here’s hoping.
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Don't miss: A Year in Reading 2017, 2016, 2015, 2014, 2013, 2012, 2011, 2010, 2009, 2008, 2007, 2006, 2005
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A Year in Reading: Elizabeth McCracken
I suffer from reading amnesia quite terribly. I often joke to my students that the only book I reliably remember having read is Lolita. I also suffer from the particular anxiety that comes with knowing too many writers: I feel certain I am going to alienate friends and further alienate enemies with any list I might compile. Well, dammit, here goes:
I loved Michael Kupperman’s graphic memoir All the Answers. Kupperman’s father was Joel Kupperman, one of television and radio’s Quiz Kids, and the book examines all sorts of American concerns, and personal ones, too: celebrity, propaganda, secrets, and grace.
I reread two of my favorite very short novels, So Long See You Tomorrow by William Maxwell and Tinkers by Paul Harding, both works of genius, generosity, and above all strangeness: I was struck by how both books go where they want to go, assume their own shapes, and though in some way they are realistic, they are also eccentric in their very souls. (I also noted that somehow my first edition personally inscribed Tinkers has lipstick on it, which makes it even more valuable to me.)
Technically I read Jamel Brinkley’s first collection of stories, A Lucky Man, at the very end of 2017, but it came out this year and good grief is it good. I got sucked in first by the very sentences—Brinkley is surely one of the finest prose writers we’ve got; I feel confident in saying that with one book of evidence—but he’s also, like the best writers, a peculiar balance of enveloping compassion and necessary ruthlessness. I can’t wait to read his next book.
Wild Milk by Sabrina Orah Mark—oh, I can’t even figure out how to describe this strange and gorgeous book. It’s a collection of stories. It’s very strange. It’s very beautiful. Mark has a mind like no other. You need to read it.
Margaret Wilkerson Sexton’s A Kind of Freedom is a novel about three generations of a New Orleans family, cut back and forth so that each generation can whisper in the other’s ears, beautifully intimate and heartbreaking, and also a portrait of America. The book was longlisted for the National Book Award in 2017 but I don’t think it got nearly enough attention.
Susan Orlean’s The Library Book reminded me of the grown-up version of the reference books I loved as a kid (The Book of Lists, The People’s Almanac), though it’s not a reference book. It’s a portrait of the Los Angeles Public Library, kind of, but it, too, goes where it wants and needs to go. It’s just so crammed with facts and anecdotes, all of them interesting and lucid, many of them deeply strange. Orlean has a Dickensian knack for describing people (living and historical) the minute they appear so that they are instantly palpable: there are so many people interfiled with all those books. It also gives a better sense of what it’s like to work in a big urban library than anything I’ve ever read.
Bruce Holbert's Whiskey is a twisty, hilarious, dark story about two brothers on a mission in Washington State, with one of the most original and wrenching ends of a novel I've ever read.
And I read two books that will be published in the new year: The Heavens by Sandra Newman, a disorienting stunner of a novel, with characters as brilliant as its ideas; and Where Reasons End by Yiyun Li, which is, simply, a masterpiece.
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A Year in Reading: Bryan Washington
1.
This year, I read a lot on my phone. That’s a habit I’ve picked up from working gigs where you stand a bunch (watching kids on a swingset, watching adult children park their cars). Some folks don’t vibe with that, but those folks don’t pay my bills, and it meant I could read in doctor’s offices and train stations and airports and noodle bars and passenger seats. I read Alexia Arthurs’s How to Love a Jamaican, Elaine Castillo’s America Is Not the Heart, Nafissa Thompson-Spires’s Heads of the Colored People, Aja Gabel’s The Ensemble, Nik Sharma’s Season, Nicole Chung’s All You Can Ever Know, Tracy K. Smith’s Wade in the Water, R.O. Kwon’s The Incendiaries, Hieu Minh Nguyen’s Not Here, Fatimah Asghar’s If They Come For Us, Katie Williams’s Tell the Machine Goodnight, Sigrid Nunez’s The Friend, Okura’s That Blue Sky Feeling, Alejandro Zambra’s Not to Read, Allegra Hyde’s Of This New World, Hiromi Kawakami’s The Nakano Thrift Shop, Anita Lo’s Solo, Kiese Laymon’s Heavy, and the re-issue of Naoki Urasawa’s 21st Century Boys.
At a few points this year, I got inexplicably sick. I had strange professional developments. I traveled and I mostly stopped smoking but I drank an aggressive amount of milk tea. I gained weight. I cried, for the first time in years, after hearing Frank Ocean’s “Moon River” cover, and then again, a few months later, over something else. I also succumbed to joy. And there was, I think, this year, a pervading numbness, which isn’t even a little bit unique, so I won’t riff too much on it, and reading definitely didn’t eliminate or even diminish that ennui, but still, books provided their own heft of equal or greater emotion, and that more or less countered the void.
So I read at crosswalks. I read at the auto shop. I read in front of the cashier, waiting (praying) for my card to clear. I read Yemisi Aribisala’s Longthroat Memoirs and Jhumpa Lahiri’s In Other Words and all of the lyrics for Mitski’s “Be The Cowboy.” I mourned The Awl, for months, and read all of the remembrances. I read Jamel Brinkley’s A Lucky Man, Luís Urrea’s The House of Broken Angels, Ling Ma’s Severance, and Sayaka Murata’s Convenience Store Woman. I reread Haruki Murakami’s Sputnik Sweetheart, because I do that every year, and Valeria Luiselli’s Tell Me How It Ends, because I think I’ll start doing that every year. I reread Diego Zuñiga’s Camanchaca, Eugene Lim’s Dear Cyborgs, and all of Paul Asta’s poems. I read everything Jia Tolentino wrote, and I reread this essay by Anshuman Iddamsetty, and this one by Vinson Cunningham, and this story by Chris Gonzales, and this story by Sheung-King. I read Marjorie Liu and Sana Takeda’s Monstress, Lisa Halliday’s Asymmetry, Kate Gavino's Sanpaku, Toshiki Okada’s The End of the Moment We Had, Tayari Jones’s An American Marriage, Gengoroh Tagame’s My Brother’s Husband, Chris Ying’s You and I Eat the Same, Yukiko Motoya’s The Lonesome Bodybuilder, Nana Kwame Adjei-Brenyah’s Friday Black, Sohui Kim’s Korean Home Cooking, Yoko Tawada’s The Emissary, and Pitchaya Sudbanthad’s Bangkok Wakes to Rain.
Every last one of those got to me. I’m surely forgetting others, but I loved them all the same. And their authors will never, ever, know how much it meant.
2.
But, honestly, the main thing that stuck with me in 2018 is having read prayers. Or hopes. Whatever. I spent a good while this year in Tokyo, sort of visiting friends and sort of researching a long thing and sort of fucking around and sort of clearing my head, and a thing I did often was ride the JR line to the Meiji Shrine. It’s in Shibuya, a short walk from Harajuku Station, by this big-ass Gap and an Adidas. In the afternoons, a guy played the Hang in front of the shrine’s arches. When you walked through the gravel, past the barrels of sake, after you’d stepped under the shrine’s pillars, you could sort of amble your way to the arches, and that’s where plenty of people, from all over, left notes on votive tablets beneath an overflowing tree:
I pray my boyfriend’s parents accept me
Hopefully she comes home this year
I pray that the new job brings in enough money for the operation
This year I hope that she finds peace
I pray that his death brings us together
Stuff like that. Deeply personal things, like you’d find in a diary or a post-it stack. Some had smiley faces and cartoons. Others were written in cursive. I spotted French and English and Hiragana and Hangul and Spanish and Chinese and Arabic, and they all hung together, tied to their altar with string, sort of shaking in the wind, and if you sneezed they’d shift a bit before settling back into place.
Most afternoons, I rode the train from my place to see them. It took about 20 minutes. This year began with the absence of hope, and every week that’s passed seems to have added to that refrain, but folks had still taken—had actually bought, with currency earned by their labor—these little hunks of wood, and then they’d written down their hopes and dreams and wants, despite everything. Despite the world. That’s a little radical, when you think about it. That’s a lot of beautiful, when you think about it.
And, in a lot of ways, I think the books I read in 2018 elicited a similar emotion. No one asks us to write. There’s no assurance that anyone will see what we put down. If your advance is big enough, or the publication is halfway decent at social media, or your publicity team is swift enough, or if you’re young and white and you catch a wave then maybe they will. But they probably won’t. And we hang these words up anyway, because we have to, and we hope that someone will see them, although most of us will never know if they do, so they’ll just carry them around in their heads, the same way we will, and that’s how we’ll build a life together, just tacking up prayers.
But anyway. I’ve thought of those notes often. I hope some of them came true.
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Don't miss: A Year in Reading 2017, 2016, 2015, 2014, 2013, 2012, 2011, 2010, 2009, 2008, 2007, 2006, 2005
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2018 National Book Awards Finalists Announced
The National Book Foundation announced the National Book Award finalists today on Buzzfeed News' AM to DM. Each category - fiction, nonfiction, poetry, young people's literature, and (the newest one) translated literature - has been narrowed down from the longlist ten to the finalist five. The awards will be revealed in New York City and online on November 14.
Here’s a list of the finalists in all five categories with bonus links where available:
Fiction:
A Lucky Man by Jamel Brinkley (Our interview with Brinkley; Brinkley's 2017 Year in Reading)
Florida by Lauren Groff (Our review; The Millions interview with Groff)
Where the Dead Sit Talking by Brandon Hobson (Featured in our February Book Preview)
The Great Believers by Rebecca Makkai (Our interview with Makkai)
The Friend by Sigrid Nunez (Nunez's 2010 Year in Reading)
Nonfiction:
The Indian World of George Washington: The First President, the First Americans, and the Birth of the Nation by Colin G. Calloway
American Eden: David Hosack, Botany, and Medicine in the Garden of the Early Republic by Victoria Johnson
Heartland: A Memoir of Working Hard and Being Broke in the Richest Country on Earth by Sarah Smarsh (Smarsh's 2017 Year in Reading)
The New Negro: The Life of Alain Locke by Jeffrey C. Stewart
We the Corporations: How American Businesses Won Their Civil Rights by Adam Winkler
Poetry:
Wobble by Rae Armantrout
American Sonnets for My Past and Future Assassin by Terrance Hayes (Our review)
Ghost Of by Diana Khoi Nguyen
Indecency by Justin Phillip Reed
Eye Level by Jenny Xie (ft. in our April Must-Read Poetry preview)
Translated Literature:
Disoriental by Négar Djavadi; translated by Tina Kover (Featured in our 2018 Great Book Preview)
Love by Hanne Ørstavik; translated by Martin Aitken
Trick by Domenico Starnone; translated by Jhumpa Lahiri (An essay on learning new languages)
The Emissary by Yoko Tawada; translated by Margaret Mitsutani (Tawada's 2017 Year in Reading)
Flights by Olga Tokarczuk; translated by Jennifer Croft (Our review; 2018 Man Booker International Prize)
Young People's Literature:
The Poet X by Elizabeth Acevedo
The Assassination of Brangwain Spurge by M. T. Anderson and Eugene Yelchin (Our three-part conversation from 2009 with Anderson)
The Truth as Told by Mason Buttle by Leslie Connor
The Journey of Little Charlie by Christopher Paul Curtis
Hey, Kiddo by Jarrett J. Krosoczka
2018 National Book Awards Longlists Announced
And just like that book award season is back! The National Book Foundation announced the National Book Award longlist this week on the New Yorker's Page Turner section. Each containing ten books, the five longlists are fiction, nonfiction, poetry, young people's literature, and, the newly minted, translated literature. The five-title shortlists will be announced on October 10th and the awards will be revealed in New York City (and streamed online) on November 14.
Some fun facts about these nominees:
The Fiction list only contains one previous nominee (Lauren Groff).
All of the Nonfiction nominees are first-time contenders for the National Book Award for Nonfiction.
The Poetry list include one previous winner (Terrance Hayes), one previous finalist (Rae Armantrout), and eight first-time nominees—three of which are for debut collections (Diana Khoi Nguyen, Justin Phillip Reed, and Jenny Xie).
2018 is the first year of the Translated Literature category so all nominees are first-time contenders for this award.
Here’s a list of the finalists in all five categories with bonus links where available:
Fiction:
A Lucky Man by Jamel Brinkley (Our interview with Brinkley; Brinkley's 2017 Year in Reading)
Gun Love by Jennifer Clement
Florida by Lauren Groff (Our review; The Millions interview with Groff)
The Boatbuilder by Daniel Gumbiner
Where the Dead Sit Talking by Brandon Hobson (Featured in our February Book Preview)
An American Marriage by Tayari Jones (Jones's 2017 Year in Reading)
The Great Believers by Rebecca Makkai (Our interview with Makkai)
The Friend by Sigrid Nunez (Nunez's 2010 Year in Reading)
There There by Tommy Orange (Featured in our June Book Preview)
Heads of the Colored People by Nafissa Thompson-Spires (Featured in our April Book Preview)
Nonfiction:
One Person, No Vote: How Voter Suppression Is Destroying Our Democracy by Carol Anderson
The Indian World of George Washington: The First President, the First Americans, and the Birth of the Nation by Colin G. Calloway
Directorate S: The C.I.A. and America’s Secret Wars in Afghanistan and Pakistan by Steve Coll
Brothers of the Gun: A Memoir of the Syrian War by Marwan Hisham and Molly Crabapple
American Eden: David Hosack, Botany, and Medicine in the Garden of the Early Republic by Victoria Johnson
The Tangled Tree: A Radical New History of Life by David Quammen
Heartland: A Memoir of Working Hard and Being Broke in the Richest Country on Earth by Sarah Smarsh (Smarsh's 2017 Year in Reading)
Call Them by Their True Names: American Crises (and Essays) by Rebecca Solnit
The New Negro: The Life of Alain Locke by Jeffrey C. Stewart
We the Corporations: How American Businesses Won Their Civil Rights by Adam Winkler
Poetry:
Wobble by Rae Armantrout
feeld by Jos Charles (ft. in our August Must-Read Poetry preview)
Be With by Forrest Gander
American Sonnets for My Past and Future Assassin by Terrance Hayes (Our review)
Museum of the Americas by J. Michael Martinez
Ghost Of by Diana Khoi Nguyen
Indecency by Justin Phillip Reed
lo terciario / the tertiary by Raquel Salas Rivera
Monument: Poems New and Selected by Natasha Trethewey
Eye Level by Jenny Xie (ft. in our April Must-Read Poetry preview)
Translated Literature:
Disoriental by Négar Djavadi; translated by Tina Kover (Featured in our 2018 Great Book Preview)
Comemadre by Roque Larraquy; translated by Heather Cleary (Featured in our Second-Half 2018 Great Book Preview)
The Beekeeper: Rescuing the Stolen Women of Iraq by Dunya Mikhail; translated by Max Weiss and Dunya Mikhail
One Part Woman by Perumal Murugan; translated by Aniruddhan Vasudevan
Love by Hanne Ørstavik; translated by Martin Aitken
Wait, Blink: A Perfect Picture of Inner Life by Gunnhild Øyehaug; translated by Kari Dickson
Trick by Domenico Starnone; translated by Jhumpa Lahiri (An essay on learning new languages)
The Emissary by Yoko Tawada; translated by Margaret Mitsutani (Tawada's 2017 Year in Reading)
Flights by Olga Tokarczuk; translated by Jennifer Croft (Our review; 2018 Man Booker International Prize)
Aetherial Worlds by Tatyana Tolstaya; translated by Anya Migdal
Young People's Literature:
The Poet X by Elizabeth Acevedo
The Assassination of Brangwain Spurge by M. T. Anderson and Eugene Yelchin (Our three-part conversation from 2009 with Anderson)
We’ll Fly Away by Bryan Bliss
The Truth as Told by Mason Buttle by Leslie Connor
The Journey of Little Charlie by Christopher Paul Curtis
Hey, Kiddo by Jarrett J. Krosoczka
A Very Large Expanse of Sea by Tahereh Mafi
Blood Water Paint by Joy McCullough
Boots on the Ground: America’s War in Vietnam by Elizabeth Partridge
What the Night Sings by Vesper Stamper
Priceless History, Intangible Richness: The Millions Interviews Lillian Li
Lillian Li uses her past as a server for inspiration in her debut novel, Number One Chinese Restaurant. “I got a taste of the physical and emotional toll that kind of work takes; a taste of the isolation of working six days a week, 12 hours a day serving other people; an understanding of the necessary camaraderie that forms between waiters and other staff to counter that isolation,” she said.
Her debut follows the Hans family and various staff members at the Beijing Duck House, a well-known Peking duck restaurant in Rockville, Md. Food is, of course, a big part of Number One Chinese Restaurant. While praising Ann Hood’s food writing (and “especially her essay on tomato pie”), Li also cites Anthony Bourdain’s Kitchen Confidential and Eddie Huang’s Fresh off the Boat as books about food that have impacted her life.
Li and I spoke via email about food, books, the past, and Number One Chinese Restaurant.
The Millions: I’d like to begin by asking you about your writing process in regards to creating a family saga. You balance characters as they age; you weave plots; you create entire histories that extend far into the past and point toward various futures. It all sounds incredibly difficult to me. Some writers like to draw their characters to create some kind of tangible connection. Others use charts and different kinds of sorting tools. There are probably even a few out there who wing it. I’m curious to know what your outlining process was like for Number One Chinese Restaurant.
Lillian Li: When I look back at how I wrote this book, I’m just amazed. I had no idea what I was doing, and I had no idea that I had no idea. For the first four months, there was no outline. There was no plot! There were only characters, their relationships to one another, and the restaurant. But I also knew that the relationships, more than even the restaurant, were where my interest in writing the book began (though maybe it’s better to say that I was interested in the kinds of relationships that could only exist in a restaurant like the Beijing Duck House). I think that’s why even though I threw out so many pages in the revision process, I didn’t end up cutting a single character.
Once I nailed down all the relationships in the book, I was able to work backwards. I think that’s why the multiple plotlines and character histories you’ve cited didn’t need to be outlined. The plotlines and histories came about naturally to explain why the relationships are the way they are in the present. For example, why Nan and Ah-Jack have been friends for 30 years, why Jimmy can’t stand his older brother Johnny, and so on. The trick, for me, was finding the realest-feeling part of my book and then using it as a compass for the rest.
TM: To build on that question a little, after you finished your first draft, how difficult was the edit for a novel so complex?
LL: I was fortunate to be in grad school when I started my first draft, which gave me a big pool of readers. This allowed me to write the novel almost recursively. I would write a hundred pages, show a classmate or teacher, then go back and revise. I believe that by the time I finished a full first draft, I had written multiple unfinished ones. I remember telling someone at the start that I was resigned to having to write 800 disposable pages to get to 200 workable ones. This felt less labor-intensive, though, than editing the novel after it had already been built. Then it’s a game of Jenga, where any change had the potential to send the entire structure crashing. I’m getting very nervous just imagining it.
TM: I know you worked briefly as a waitress at a Peking duck restaurant that is similar to the one in your novel. I’m sure your experience influenced your book to some extent. Did you find this experience to ever be a burden in regard to the creation and development of your novel?
LL: Brief is right! I didn’t even last a full month. At the time, I was feeling pretty weak for quitting (I mean, my mom worked at a Chinese restaurant for five years when she first came to America), and then when I realized I wanted to write a novel that took place in a Peking duck restaurant, I was even angrier at myself for not staying longer. But it was actually a blessing that I quit so early. I’d assumed the more time I spent in the restaurant, the more authoritative I’d feel writing about one. That turned out to be both true and untrue. I would be more authoritative…about the real restaurant. Not the fictional one. I think too much reality ends up suffocating the imagination. The few weeks I spent as a waitress gave me just enough information. I got a taste of the physical and emotional toll that kind of work takes; a taste of the isolation of working six days a week, 12 hours a day serving other people; an understanding of the necessary camaraderie that forms between waiters and other staff to counter that isolation. There would be no book without that kind of personal experience. There also wouldn’t be a book, at least not a book of fiction, if I’d spent a much longer time in the real restaurant. Or if I’d come into the restaurant wanting to write about it, instead of just wanting to make some money for grad school.
TM: I was struck in the second chapter by the loneliness the employees at the Duck House feel. When describing the connection between some of the workers, you write, “They were all friends, if one defined friendship as the natural occurrence between people who, after colliding for decades, have finally eroded enough to fit together.” I think this statement is so sad, but I also think it’s incredibly truthful for many of us. How prevalent do you think loneliness is in our current culture?
LL: What a good question! Whenever people say that writing is a lonely process, I both do and don’t understand what they mean. Like, yes, you often write alone, sometimes for many hours on end, and if you’re especially dedicated (I’m not), you eschew social events in order to stay home and write. But for me, without writing, I wouldn’t be less lonely. I’d be estranged from my loneliness. Or worse, I’d be ashamed of it. I think that loneliness isn’t so much prevalent in our current culture as it is universal. To be an individual is to be lonely. Writing, both the act of doing it and the act of reading it, puts us in touch with the loneliness that exists inside all of us. It shows us that loneliness might take a unique shape for each person, but no one is alone in feeling it. I’m not talking about the loneliness of being excluded by others or alienated by society, which is external and awful and should be undone, but the internal loneliness that we’re all born into. I think that kind of loneliness isn’t a problem, unless we either don’t admit to living with it, or think we’re the only ones who are.
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TM: In your novel, brothers are upset with one another. A mother and son struggle to get along. Husbands and wives fight to stay together. I mean, a lot is happening on an emotional level. Still, though, there’s so much love and tenderness flowing through these pages. Was it difficult for you to love these characters after some of their decisions?
LL: It wasn’t difficult for me because if I know what compels a person to act the way they do, it softens my judgment of them. It allows me to see how I might have acted similarly if I’d been given the same set of circumstances and history. And when you write characters that are, hopefully, real on the page, that means everything they do, no matter how awful, has an underlying explanation. The bigger issue I face is whether the reader can still love these characters after their decisions. Some probably won’t. That’s understandable. What I love about fiction is how it stretches certain muscles that daily life only stiffens. Relating to someone who acts against how we think they should is one of those muscles. Some readers will be able to stretch with my characters more easily, and others will feel that stretch acutely and hate the discomfort. I know that I’ve been on both sides of that reading experience. But no matter what, those muscles have been stretched, and that’s ultimately what matters. Or so I tell myself…
TM: As I was reading, I began to notice an appreciation for the past. I love how you mention the Duck House’s history: “Before it became a restaurant, the Duck House building had been a pharmacy, a real estate office, and at least a half dozen other businesses in between.” Everything really is built on something.
I think the focus on the past’s richness is probably most evident, though, when looking at the two restaurants. The Glory is shiny and new, with fusion cuisine. It’s attractive, but it doesn’t seem to have much of a heart. The Duck House, on the other hand, isn’t very attractive: “The gaudy, overstuffed decor didn’t help. A deep, matte red colored everything, from the upholstered chairs to the floral carpet to the Chinese knots hanging off the lantern lighting, their tassels low enough to graze the heads of taller customers. Framed photos of famous clientele protruded from the walls.” However, this is the place that has heart. Was this a conscious decision on your part?
LL: Rather than an appreciation for the past, I’d say that I have an appreciation for personal history, for the accumulation of years in the same place, with the same people. I think that is ultimately why the Duck House feels like it has more heart than the Beijing Glory—it’s been around longer, and it’s built a backbone of staff that has seen the restaurant, and each other, through multiple decades. I don’t think the original owners of the Duck House, Jimmy’s parents, intended for their business to have heart. I don’t want to romanticize past generations and give them more credit than they deserve. In the end, Jimmy’s parents were driven by the same motivations as Jimmy: ambition, respect, and financial success. At the same time, by simply existing and thriving for as many decades as it has, the Duck House has accumulated a kind of priceless history. To lose that history, or worse, to throw it away, is a great tragedy. No amount of money or class can give an establishment that same density of spirit, that intangible richness, and that’s the lesson Jimmy ultimately has to learn.
TM: Since you are a bookseller at the beloved Literati, I can’t leave without asking you a couple of questions about books. I’ve really been into books about food recently. I just finished Michael W. Twitty’s The Cooking Gene and thought it was absolutely wonderful. With your novel being set largely in a restaurant, were there certain books based around the food/restaurant industry that you read for research? Or were there other books that inspired your book in some way?
LL: I didn’t read any books for research, but I have always had an interest in chef memoirs. My perennial favorite is Anthony Bourdain’s Kitchen Confidential. I picked it up at a used bookstore when I was a sophomore in college and have read it countless times since. Not on purpose, though. Kitchen Confidential is the book I keep in my bathroom at my parents’ house. If you have not experienced the phenomenon of keeping a book in a bathroom you only occasionally use, I recommend it! As a result of its placement in my life, I read Kitchen Confidential from start to finish every two years or so. By the time I finish the last page, I just turn right back to the first. The bravado and energy of Bourdain’s writing definitely seeped into a few chapters of my book and made certain kitchen scenes easier to access. I also loved the anger in Eddie Huang’s Fresh off the Boat. By the time I read his memoir, I’d already finished a draft of the novel, so the experience of reading Huang was more affirming than informative. I was gratified to see how many parallels Huang and my character Jimmy shared, and the similarities in their emotional landscapes. Finally, I love Ann Hood’s food writing, especially her essay on tomato pie. Her exploration of food, family, and memory very much align with my own interests.
TM: What new or soon-to-be-released books should we be reading?
LL: As a bookseller, I can’t generalize about books! I always have to ask, what else have you read? So here are the books you should be reading…
If you love explorations of the American dream transplanted in Shanghai, generational sagas, and the lives of the newly rich and confused, read What We Were Promised by Lucy Tan.
If you love trippy, experimental ruminations on the intersections of technology and the human condition, read Rubik by Elizabeth Tan.
If you love satirical, hilarious, and ultimately compassionate snapshots of contemporary black life and interiority, read Heads of the Colored People by Nafissa Thompson-Spires.
If you love atmospheric mysteries full of light and mist, dreams and omens, all set in small-town Japan, read Rainbirds by Clarissa Goenawan.
If you love lush, historical love triangles where history plays a shadowy, villainous role, read If You Leave Me by Crystal Hana Kim.
If you love short story collections where every story is a contender for your heart, as well as a deep dive into the emotional depths of black boys and men learning how to care for themselves and each other, read A Lucky Man by Jamel Brinkley.
If you love beautiful and piercing narratives about grief, friendship, the loneliness of a writer’s life, and the love of a good dog, read The Friend by Sigrid Nunez.
A Mix of Paean and Elegy: The Millions Interviews Jamel Brinkley
Jamel Brinkley’s nuanced debut A Lucky Man collects nine short stories set in places the author knows very intimately: Brooklyn and the Bronx. The writer grew up in these diverse neighborhoods and years later immersed himself in the lives of men and women to create these powerful stories that have been featured in a variety of publications, including the forthcoming The Best American Short Stories 2018 collection edited by Roxane Gay.
The writer’s work explores many aspects of what it means to be person of color in America today, including masculinity and social class. I corresponded with the author about how the collection evolved, what New York City means to him, and what to expect from him in the future.
The Millions: These stories take place in New York City, which feels like its own character at times throughout the collection. Why was capturing the city you grew up in so vital for this collection?
Jamel Brinkley: I'm guessing here, or trying to make sense of things retrospectively, but I think one thing that must have been in my mind as I worked on the stories in this collection was the violence of gentrification and the way it has been rapidly changing New York City and the lives of many of the people who have lived here. (I'm in New York as I respond to these questions.) The collection begins solidly in the 1990s, and by the end, with "Clifton's Place," we come closer to the contemporary moment and gentrification becomes more explicit as a subject, though there are traces of it elsewhere. Also, I've spent the vast majority of my years living in New York, so in many ways, this city is all I knew when I was writing the stories. Seven of the nine stories in the collection were written while I lived in the Midwest, in Iowa City, so I think that distance from New York made me long for it. For all these reasons, with respect to the city, I feel like the stories are a mix of paean and elegy.
TM: All of the stories have been previously published. Why did these make it into this debut collection?
JB: Well, at the time that the collection was sold to Graywolf, only two of the stories had been published, both in A Public Space. The rest of the stories were placed at the same time the book was being edited and prepared for publication. During that time, one story was added and another one removed. I think the resulting nine were the stories that spoke to each other in some way and could be arranged into a shape that made sense.
TM: What about the story “A Lucky Man” is special to you?
JB: I chose to use the title of that story as the title of the collection for a few reasons. "Man" just makes sense because every story features a male narrator or protagonist, though "Wolf and Rhonda" also has a female protagonist. "Lucky" resonates for me in a number of ways. I feel like each story in my collection is about an ordinary person, along the lines of what the writer Frank O'Connor called "the Little Man," in contrast to the traditional hero of the novel. In the title story, the idea of being lucky is reflected upon and interrogated. We see that luck can vanish or be stripped away in an instant, and that taking the notion of luck seriously means realizing that it says absolutely nothing about the innate character or qualities of the person it happens to attach itself to. In that story, we also get the idea of luck as an empty, haunting presence. The word "luck" also makes me think of the idea of being exceptional or special. Whether we're talking about kids in school or writers in the publishing world, institutions often regard black people and other people of color by using the scarcity model, which assumes that there can only be "a few." Only an exceptional few will make it out of the hood and go on to live successful lives. Only a special few will be chosen by gatekeepers to become the representative voices of their people. Stuff like that, ideas that I obviously don't agree with. So "Lucky" in terms of that story, and in terms of the collection overall, is tinged with irony, under scrutiny, or under erasure. At the same time, that word suggests some kind of happiness, and in that sense I want to embrace it without irony. My hope is that the moments of happiness and joy, however fleeting, feel authentic in the collection.
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TM: Though this is your debut collection, your name and stories have been floating around for a while. What lessons or skills have you learned throughout the years that make your writing so special that you wish you knew right when you started?
JB: I wish I knew that experiencing resistance while writing, being stalled in the face of the unknown, is often a good sign, and that lots of easy fancy footwork with prose can often be a warning sign. I've always loved language, and I want my sentences to be solid and stylish, but language in the kind of fiction I want to write has to be responsible to character, first and foremost, and to the world that characters I write about inhabit. When I first started writing, I would get carried away with "lyrical" writing and stylistic flourishes and kind of forget about my obligations to the characters and the story. I would get impatient with difficulty. Who knows how many stories I missed out on writing because I couldn't handle being uncomfortable in that way.
TM: What is it about the short story form as opposed to novels that pushes you to keep writing them?
JB: I like the density or layers of stories, relative to their length and perceived simplicity. I like that you can more or less hold an entire story in your mind and heart. I like that stories exert a constraint of gathering on you as a writer. One of my writing teachers says that stories, from their beginnings, are in the process of searching for their endings or shutting themselves down, and that feels true to me. Novels, by contrast, tend to feel like they are opening up and expanding. I also like that stories feel like they lean towards poetry.
TM: Now that this collection—which thematically explores race, masculinity, and social class—is out, what other parts of society would you like to explore?
JB: I think race, gender, and class, among other things, will always be present in my work because there's no way of talking about society without reference to them. But my honest answer to your question is, I don't know. I think I discover what I'm writing about only in the middle of the process of writing it. And that's a best-case scenario. Sometimes it isn't clear what I'm doing, or what I've done, until after I've done it. That's actually the way I prefer to work. I don't want to set the thematic cart before the sentence-writing horse.
May Preview: The Millions Most Anticipated (This Month)
We wouldn’t dream of abandoning our vast semi–annual Most Anticipated Book Previews, but we thought a monthly reminder would be helpful (and give us a chance to note titles we missed the first time around). Here’s what we’re looking out for this month — for more May titles, check out our First-Half Preview. Let us know what you’re looking forward to in the comments!
(Also, as Millions founder and publisher C. Max Magee wrote recently, you can help ensure that these previews, and all our great books coverage, continue for years to come by lending your support to the site as a member. The Millions has been running for nearly 15 years on a wing and a prayer, and we’re incredibly grateful for the love of our recurring readers and current members who help us sustain the work that we do.)
Warlight by Michael Ondaatje: From internationally acclaimed, bestselling author of The English Patient and Divisidero among his other works, this new novel from Ondaatje is set in the decade after World War II. When their parents move to Singapore, 14-year-old Nathaniel and his older sister, Rachel, are left in London under the watchful eye of a mysterious figure called The Moth. As they become immersed in his eccentric circle of friends, they are both protected and educated in confusing ways. The mystery deepens when their mother returns months later without their father, but gives them no explanation. Years later, Nathaniel begins to uncover the story through a journey of facts, recollection, and imagination. If only Anthony Minghella were still with us to make the movie. (Claire)
The Mars Room by Rachel Kushner: In her third novel, two-time National Book Award-finalist Kushner writes about a woman named Romy Hall who is serving two consecutive life sentences (plus six years) in a prison in California’s Central Valley. The year is 2003, and the Mars Room in the title refers to a strip club in San Francisco where Romy used to dance; according to the jacket copy, Kushner details “the deadpan absurdities of institutional living…with humor and precision.” George Saunders calls Kushner “a young master” and Robert Stone wrote that she is “a novelist of the very first order.” Check out this short excerpt published by Entertainment Weekly. (Edan)
Some Trick by Helen DeWitt: If you periodically spend afternoons sitting around wondering when you will get to read something new by DeWitt, this is your season. In May we get 13 stories from the brilliant writer who brought us The Last Samurai—one of the best books of this or any millennium—and the evilly good Lightning Rods. In this collection DeWitt will evidently apply her mordant virtuosity to territory ranging from statistics to publishing. (Lydia)
Not That Bad, edited by Roxane Gay: In this age when (some) sexual assault survivors are finally being listened to and (some) sexual predators are being held accountable, there couldn't be a better time for an essay collection examining just how pervasive and pernicious rape culture is. Gay has become a champion for survivors of sexual assault since the beginning of her writing career, so she is the ideal editor of this book that attacks rape culture from all angles. From essays by well-known figures such as Gabrielle Union to emerging writers, this book explores all elements of this ill from child molestation to the rape epidemic in the refugee world. (Tess)
Motherhood by Sheila Heti: Heti’s previous two books have created and followed lines of inquiry—with Misha Glouberman she wrote a book of conversational philosophy, The Chairs Are Where People Go. Heti’s novel How Should a Person Be? is an early work of autofiction that delves deep into art-making and friendship. Some called it a literary form of reality TV, making James Wood’s backhanded assessment of the book as both “unpretentious” and “narcissistic” quite the unintentional compliment. Heti’s new novel Motherhood follows in a similar line of existential questioning—the narrator approaches the topic of motherhood, asking not when but if she should endeavor to become a mother at all. (Anne)
That Kind of Mother by Rumaan Alam: “Just because something is natural doesn’t mean it’s easy.” Priscilla Johnson says those words to Rebecca Stone early in Alam’s novel. Rebecca’s just given birth to her son Jacob, and the novel’s first scene feels both dizzying and precise—a visceral reminder of life’s complex surprises. Priscilla is the hospital staffer who most calms Rebecca’s anxieties, so much that she asks Priscilla to be Jacob’s nanny. A few years later, Priscilla’s own pregnancy ends in heartbreak. Rebecca’s decision to adopt Andrew is complex: she loves and misses Priscilla, and dearly loves this boy, but is she ready for the reality of raising a black son as a white mother? Alam’s sharp narrative asides—lines like “Some percentage of the things she did for the children were actually for her”—carry such weight and truth that we trust his route toward the bigger question of the book: are we ever ready for the pain and joy that life delivers us? (Nick R.)
Welcome to Lagos by Chibundu Onuzo: Five characters arrive in the megacity seeking to make a new start, leaving behind traumatic situations born of Nigeria's sociopolitical complexities and mingling their fortunes in what Booklist calls, in a starred review, "a tangy Ocean’s Eleven–esque escapade that exposes class and ethnic divides in the country even as it manages to mock the West for its colonial gaze toward the African continent as a whole." (Lydia)
Spring by Karl Ove Knausgaard, translated by Ingvild Burkey: This is the third book in the master's Seasons Quartet, a novel rather than the essays that characterized the previous volume. With Spring, Knausgaard explores a family disaster, explaining to his daughter (the intended audience of the Quartet) why it is that they receive visits from Child Services, and what it was that caused her mother to leave. (Lydia)
Last Stories by William Trevor: Prior to his death in November 2016, Trevor told a friend that the book he was working on would be called Last Stories. That is this book—the last we will ever have from the Irish author. Six of the 10 stories included here have never been published before, and what preview would be sufficient? Perhaps just this: if the engine of accomplished fiction truly is empathy, then you will be hard pressed to uncover a finer practitioner of the core humanity that inspired and inspires this deliberate, and personal, epitaph. (Il’ja)
Slave Old Man by Patrick Chamoiseau, translated by Linda Coverdale: A newly translated novel from a Prix Goncourt winner who Milan Kundera called the “heir of Joyce and Kafka,” Slave Old Man is the hallucinatory journey of an old man who has escaped enslavement on a plantation in the forest of Martinique, pursued by his former captor and a fierce dog. In a starred review, Publishers' Weekly writes, "Chamoiseau’s prose is astounding in its beauty." (Lydia)
Like a Mother by Angela Garbes: Several years ago Garbes, a food writer, wrote a viral and absolutely bananas piece about the mysteries and miracles of breastfeeding. Now she brings the same spirit of inquiry and amazement to a related and equally bananas process, filling a lacuna she faced when she was pregnant with her first child. The result is a deeply reported, deeply felt book on everything surrounding reproduction and its effects on the body and the mind. (Lydia)
Calypso by David Sedaris: In this, his first essay collection in five years, Sedaris uses a family beach house as a starting point to explore mortality and age with his characteristic humor and aplomb. (Read Sedaris's latest essay, on his mother's alcoholism, here at The New Yorker.) (Lydia)
The Ensemble by Aja Gabel: A novel about art and friendship and the fraught world of accomplished musicians—four young friends who comprise a string quartet. Mat Johnson said Gabel’s novel “deserves a standing ovation.” For a taste of Gabel’s prose, read her Best American Essays-notable piece on grief and eating ortolans in France. (Lydia)
The Lost Empress by Sergio De La Pava: De La Pava’s first novel, A Naked Singularity, was the rare self-published novel to receive critical acclaim, including the PEN/Bingham Prize. The Lost Empress is as ambitious as his first, a 672-page doorstopper that takes on both football and the criminal justice system. The novel has a large cast, but centers on two characters: Nina Gill, the daughter of the owner of the Dallas Cowboys, and presumed heir to the franchise; and Nuno DeAngeles, “a brilliant criminal mastermind,” who gets himself thrown into prison in order to commit a crime. (Hannah)
A Lucky Man by Jamel Brinkley: New York-bred writer Brinkley (and Year in Reading alum) delivers this anticipated debut story collection. Ranging from encounters on the New York subway to a young boy’s first encounter with the reality of racial hierarchy, these sensitive and probing stories promise to captivate. If you’ve read Brinkley’s title story “A Lucky Man” in A Public Space, then you know that he’s a talent to watch. (Ismail)
The Optimistic Decade by Heather Abel: Abel's debut centers around a group of young people who converge in a utopian summer camp in a small town in the Colorado mountains, exploring American obsessions of freedom, ownership, property, and class against the vagaries of the Reagan and Bush years. In a starred review, Publishers' Weekly calls this novel "politically and psychologically acute." (Lydia)
Belly Up by Rita Bullwinkel: Bullwinkel’s stories are fantastic and fabulist feats that (often) address our messy, cumbersome bodies in thrilling and imaginative ways. For example: in lieu of a bra, a man is hired to support a daughter’s breasts; a woman whose plastic surgeon, when fixing her eyes, leaves her with a turkey neck (not literally but); twin brothers Gleb and Oleg, surgeon and sculptor, live in a prison infirmary and perform a thumb transplant. A compelling new voice, Bullwinkel has had stories in Tin House, Guernica, and Noon. Her first book, the story collection Belly Up, will be published by A Strange Object. (Anne)
Meet behind Mars by Renee Simms: In stories taking place across the United States and ranging in style from fabulist to realist to satyrical, Simms, a professor at University of Puget Sound, writes scenes from the American experience, focusing on the connections and inner spaces of a large cast of African-American characters. Tayari Jones calls this "an exciting debut of a vibrant new voice in American literature." (Lydia)
Kickflip Boys by Neal Thompson: We all turn out like our parents to some degree -- an unsettling revelation when we remember our own missteps growing up. In Neal Thompson's new memoir Kickflip Boys, he recalls his rough-edged upbringing as he raises his skateboard-obsessed boys and wonders about their own emerging rough edges. Thompson is a magazine writer and the author of four prior books, most notably his biography of Robert "Believe It or Not!" Ripley. (Max)
The Pisces by Melissa Broder: You may know Broder because of her incredible So Sad Today tweets. If you do, you won’t be surprised to hear about her novel, The Pisces, which follows a Ph.D student in love with a Californian merman. The student, Lucy, has a breakdown after nine years of grad school, which compels her Angeleno sister to invite her to dogsit at her place. On the beach, a merman appears, and Lucy embarks on a romance that seems impossible. (Thom)
The Map of Salt and Stars by Jennifer Zeynab Joukhadar: A novel about the Syrian war and the refugee crisis, juxtaposing the life of a modern girl fleeing Homs across land and sea and her medieval counterpart, a girl who traversed the same territory while apprenticed to a renowned mapmaker. Simultaneously an homage to Arab intellectual history and a lament of modern chaos. (Lydia)
Tuesday New Release Day: Kushner; Palahniuk; Brinkley; Broder; Heti
Out this week: The Mars Room by Rachel Kushner; Adjustment Day by Chuck Palahniuk; A Lucky Man by Jamel Brinkley; The Pisces by Melissa Broder; and Motherhood by Sheila Heti.
Want to learn more about upcoming titles? Then go read our most recent book preview. Want to help The Millions keep churning out great books coverage? Then sign up to be a member today.
Most Anticipated: The Great 2018 Book Preview
Settle in, folks, because this is one the longest first-half previews we've run in a long while. Putting this together is a labor of love, and while a huge crop of great spring books increases the labor, it also means there is more here for readers to love. We'd never claim to be comprehensive—we know there are far more excellent books on the horizon than one list can hold, which is why we've started doing monthly previews in addition to the semi-annual lists (and look out for the January Poetry Preview, which drops tomorrow). But we feel confident we've put together a fantastic selection of (almost 100!) works of fiction, memoir, and essay to enliven your January through June 2018. What's in here? New fiction by giants like Michael Ondaatje, Helen DeWitt, Lynne Tillman, and John Edgar Wideman. Essays from Zadie Smith, Marilynne Robinson, and Leslie Jamison. Exciting debuts from Nafkote Tamirat, Tommy Orange, and Lillian Li. Thrilling translated work from Leïla Slimani and Clarice Lispector. A new Rachel Kushner. A new Rachel Cusk. The last Denis Johnson. The last William Trevor. The long-awaited Vikram Seth.
As Millions founder and publisher C. Max Magee wrote recently, you can help ensure that these previews, and all our great books coverage, continue for years to come by lending your support to the site as a member. The Millions has been running for nearly 15 years on a wing and a prayer, and we're incredibly grateful for the love of our recurring readers and current members who help us sustain the work that we do.
So don your specs, clear off your TBR surfaces, and prepare for a year that, if nothing else, will be full of good books.
JANUARY
The Perfect Nanny by Leïla Slimani (translated by Sam Taylor): In her Goncourt Prize-winning novel, Slimani gets the bad news out of the way early—on the first page to be exact: “The baby is dead. It only took a few seconds. The doctor said he didn’t suffer. The broken body, surrounded by toys, was put inside a gray bag, which they zipped up.” Translated from the French by Sam Taylor as The Perfect Nanny—the original title was Chanson Douce, or Lullaby—this taut story about an upper-class couple and the woman they hire to watch their child tells of good help gone bad. (Matt)
Halsey Street by Naima Coster: Coster’s debut novel is set in Bedford-Stuyvesant, a rapidly gentrifying corner of Brooklyn. When Penelope Grand leaves a failed art career in Pittsburgh and comes home to Brooklyn to look after her father, she finds her old neighborhood changed beyond recognition. The narrative shifts between Penelope and her mother, Mirella, who abandoned the family to move to the Dominican Republic and longs for reconciliation. A meditation on family, love, gentrification, and home. (Emily)
Fire Sermon by Jamie Quatro: Five years after her story collection, I Want to Show You More, drew raves from The New Yorker’s James Wood and Dwight Garner at The New York Times, Quatro delivers her debut novel, which follows a married woman’s struggle to reconcile a passionate affair with her fierce attachment to her husband and two children. “It’s among the most beautiful books I’ve ever read about longing—for beauty, for sex, for God, for a coherent life,” says Garth Greenwell, author of What Belongs to You. (Michael)
The Largesse of the Sea Maiden by Denis Johnson: Johnson’s writing has always had an antiphonal quality to it—the call and response of a man and his conscience, perhaps. In these stories, a dependably motley crew of Johnson protagonists find themselves forced to take stock as mortality comes calling. The writing has a more plangent tone than Angels and Jesus’ Son, yet is every bit as edgy. Never afraid to look into the abyss, and never cute about it, Johnson will be missed. Gratefully, sentences like the following, his sentences, will never go away: “How often will you witness a woman kissing an amputation?” R.I.P. (Il’ja)
A Girl in Exile by Ismail Kadare (translated by John Hodgson): Kadare structures the novel like a psychological detective yarn, but one with some serious existential heft. The story is set physically in Communist Albania in the darkest hours of totalitarian rule, but the action takes place entirely in the head and life of a typically awful Kadare protagonist—Rudian Stefa, a writer. When a young woman from a remote province ends up dead with a provocatively signed copy of Stefa’s latest book in her possession, it’s time for State Security to get involved. A strong study of the ease and banality of human duplicity. (Il’ja)
Frankenstein in Baghdad by Ahmed Saadawi (translated by Jonathan Wright): The long-awaited English translation of the winner of the International Prize for Arabic Fiction in 2014 gives American readers the opportunity to read Saadawi’s haunting, bleak, and darkly comic take on Iraqi life in 2008. Or, as Saadawi himself put it in interview for Arab Lit, he set out to write “the fictional representation of the process of everyone killing everyone.” (Check out Saadawi's Year in Reading here.) (Nick M.)
This Will Be My Undoing by Morgan Jerkins: Wünderkind Jerkins has a background in 19th-century Russian lit and postwar Japanese lit, speaks six languages, works/has worked as editor and assistant literary agent; she writes across many genres—reportage, personal essays, fiction, profiles, interviews, literary criticism, and sports and pop culture pieces; and now we’ll be seeing her first book, an essay collection. From the publisher: “This is a book about black women, but it’s necessary reading for all Americans.” The collected essays will cover topics ranging from “Rachel Dolezal; the stigma of therapy; her complex relationship with her own physical body; the pain of dating when men say they don’t ‘see color’; being a black visitor in Russia; the specter of ‘the fast-tailed girl’ and the paradox of black female sexuality; or disabled black women in the context of the ‘Black Girl Magic’ movement.” (Sonya)
Mouths Don’t Speak by Katia D. Ulysse: In Drifting, Ulysse’s 2014 story collection, Haitian immigrants struggle through New York City after the 2010 earthquake that destroyed much of their county. In her debut novel, Ulysse revisits that disaster with a clearer and sharper focus. Jacqueline Florestant is mourning her parents, presumed dead after the earthquake, while her ex-Marine husband cares for their young daughter. But the expected losses aren’t the most serious, and a trip to freshly-wounded Haiti exposes the way tragedy follows class lines as well as family ones. (Kaulie)
The Sky Is Yours by Chandler Klang Smith: Smith’s The Sky Is Yours, is a blockbuster of major label debuts. The dystopic inventiveness of this genre hybrid sci-fi thriller/coming of age tale/adventure novel has garnered comparisons to Gary Shteyngart, David Mitchell and Ridley Scott’s Blade Runner. And did I mention? It has dragons, too, circling the crumbling Empire Island, and with them a fire problem (of course), and features a reality TV star from a show called Late Capitalism's Royalty. Victor LaValle calls The Sky Is Yours "a raucous, inventive gem of a debut." Don't just take our word for it, listen to an audio excerpt. (Anne)
Everything Here Is Beautiful by Mira T. Lee: Spanning cultures and continents, Lee’s assured debut novel tells the story of two sisters who are bound together and driven apart by the inescapable bonds of family. Miranda is the sensible one, thrust into the role of protector of Lucia, seven years younger, head-strong, and headed for trouble. Their mother emigrated from China to the U.S. after the death of their father, and as the novel unfurls in clear, accessible prose, we follow the sisters on journeys that cover thousands of miles and take us into the deepest recesses of the human heart. Despite its sunny title, this novel never flinches from big and dark issues, including interracial love, mental illness and its treatment, and the dislocations of immigrant life. (Bill)
The Infinite Future by Tim Wirkus: I read this brilliant puzzle-of-a-book last March and I still think about it regularly! The Infinite Future follows a struggling writer, a librarian, and a Mormon historian excommunicated from the church on their search for a reclusive Brazilian science fiction writer. In a starred review, Book Page compares Wirkus to Jonathan Lethem and Ron Currie Jr., and says the book “announces Wirkus as one of the most exciting novelists of his generation.” I agree. (Edan)
The Job of the Wasp by Colin Winnette: With Winnette’s fourth novel he proves he’s adept at re-appropriating genre conventions in intriguing ways. His previous book, Haint’s Stay, is a Western tale jimmyrigged for its own purposes and is at turns both surreal and humorous. Winnette's latest, The Job of the Wasp, takes on the Gothic ghost novel and is set in the potentially creepiest of places—an isolated boarding school for orphaned boys, in the vein of Robert Walser’s Jakob von Gunten, Jenny Erpenbeck’s The Old Child, or even Charles Dickens’s Oliver Twist. “Witty and grisly” according to Kelly Link, strange and creepy, Job of the Wasp reveals Winnette's "natural talent" says Patrick deWitt. (Anne)
Brass by Xhenet Aliu: In what Publishers Weekly calls a "striking first novel," a daughter searches for answers about the relationship between her parents, a diner waitress from Waterbury, Conn. and a line cook who emigrated from Albania. Aliu writes a story of love, family, and the search for an origin story, set against the decaying backdrop of a post-industrial town. In a starred review, Kirkus writes "Aliu’s riveting, sensitive work shines with warmth, clarity, and a generosity of spirit." (Lydia)
The Immortalists by Chloe Benjamin: Four adolescent sibling in 1960s New York City sneak out to see a psychic, who tells each of them the exact date they will die. They take this information with a grain of salt, and keep it from each other, but Benjamin’s novel follows them through the succeeding decades, as their lives alternately intertwine and drift apart, examining how the possible knowledge of their impending death affects how they live. I’m going to break my no-novels-about-New-Yorkers rule for this one. (Janet)
King Zeno by Nathaniel Rich: This historical thriller features an ax-wielding psychopath wreaking havoc in the city of Sazeracs. It’s been eight years since Rich moved to New Orleans, and in that time, he’s been a keen observer, filing pieces on the city’s storied history and changing identity for various publications, not least of all The New York Review of Books. He’s certainly paid his dues, which is vitally important since the Big Easy is an historically difficult city for outsiders to nail without resorting to distracting tokenism (a pelican ate my beignet in the Ninth Ward). Fortunately, Rich is better than that. (Nick M.)
The Monk of Mokha by Dave Eggers: Eggers returns to his person-centered reportage with an account of a Yemeni-American man named Mokhtar Alkhanshali's efforts to revive the Yemeni tradition of coffee production just when war is brewing. A starred Kirkus review calls Eggers's latest "a most improbable and uplifting success story." (Lydia)
In Every Moment We Are Still Alive by Tom Malmquist (translated by Henning Koch): A hit novel by a Swedish poet brought to English-reading audiences by Melville House. This autobiographical novel tells the story of a poet whose girlfriend leaves the world just as their daughter is coming into it--succumbing suddenly to undiagnosed leukemia at 33 weeks. A work of autofiction about grief and survival that Publisher's Weekly calls a "beautiful, raw meditation on earth-shattering personal loss." (Lydia)
Peculiar Ground by Lucy Hughes-Hallett: The award-winning British historian (The Pike: Gabriele D'Annunzio, Poet, Seducer and Preacher of War) makes her fiction debut. Narrated by multiple characters, the historical novel spans three centuries and explores the very timely theme of immigration. Walls are erected and cause unforeseen consequences for both the present and futurey. In its starred review, Kirkus said the novel was "stunning for both its historical sweep and its elegant prose." (Carolyn)
Neon in Daylight by Hermione Hoby: A novel about art, loneliness, sex, and restless city life set against the backdrop of Hurricane Sandy-era New York, Neon in Daylight follows a young, adrift English catsitter as she explores the galleries of New York and develops an infatuation with a successful writer and his daughter, a barista and sex-worker. The great Ann Patchett called Hoby "a writer of extreme intelligence, insight, style and beauty." (Lydia)
This Could Hurt by Jillian Medoff: Medoff works a double shift: when she isn’t writing novels, she’s working as a management consultant, which means, as her official bio explains, “that she uses phrases like ‘driving behavior’ and ‘increasing ROI’ without irony.” In her fourth novel, she turns her attention to a milieu she knows very well, the strange and singular world of corporate America: five colleagues in a corporate HR department struggle to find their footing amidst the upheaval and uncertainty of the 2008-2009 economic collapse. (Emily)
The Afterlives by Thomas Pierce: Pierce’s first novel is a fascinating and beautifully rendered meditation on ghosts, technology, marriage, and the afterlife. In a near-future world where holograms are beginning to proliferate in every aspect of daily life, a man dies—for a few minutes, from a heart attack, before he’s revived—returns with no memory of his time away, and becomes obsessed with mortality and the afterlife. In a world increasingly populated by holograms, what does it mean to “see a ghost?” What if there’s no afterlife? On the other hand, what if there is an afterlife, and what if the afterlife has an afterlife? (Emily)
Grist Mill Road by Christopher J. Yates: The follow-up novel by the author of Black Chalk, an NPR Best of the Year selection. Yates's latest "Rashomon-style" literary thriller follows a group of friends up the Hudson, where they are involved in a terrible crime. "I Know What You Did Last Summer"-style, they reconvene years later, with dire consequences. The novel receives the coveted Tana French endorsement: she calls it "darkly, intricately layered, full of pitfalls and switchbacks, smart and funny and moving and merciless." (Lydia)
FEBRUARY
The Friend by Sigrid Nunez: In her latest novel, Nunez (a Year in Reading alum) ruminates on loss, art, and the unlikely—but necessary—bonds between man and dog. After the suicide of her best friend and mentor, an unnamed, middle-aged writing professor is left Apollo, his beloved, aging Great Dane. Publishers Weekly says the “elegant novel” reflects “the way that, especially in grief, the past is often more vibrant than the present.” (Carolyn)
Feel Free by Zadie Smith: In her forthcoming essay collection, Smith provides a critical look at contemporary topics, including art, film, politics, and pop-culture. Feel Free includes many essays previously published in The New Yorker and The New York Review of Books and it is divided into five sections: In the World, In the Audience, In the Gallery, On the Bookshelf, and Feel Free. Andrew Solomon described the collection as “a tonic that will help the reader reengage with life.” (Zoë)
What Are We Doing Here? by Marilynne Robinson: One of my favorite literary discoveries of 2017 was that there are two camps of Robinson fans. Are you more Housekeeping or Gilead? To be clear, all of us Housekeeping people claim to have loved her work before the Pulitzer committee agreed. But this new book is a collection of essays where Robinson explores the modern political climate and the mysteries of faith, including, "theological, political, and contemporary themes." Given that the essays come from Robinson's incisive mind, I think there will be more than enough to keep both camps happy. (Claire)
An American Marriage by Tayari Jones: In our greatest tragedies, there is the feeling of no escape—and when the storytelling is just right, we feel consumed by the heartbreak. In Jones’s powerful new novel, Celestial and Roy are a married couple with optimism for their future. Early in the book, Jones offers a revelation about Roy’s family, but that secret is nothing compared to what happens next: Roy is arrested for a crime he didn’t commit, and sentenced to over a decade in prison. An American Marriage arrives in the pained, authentic voices of Celestial, Roy, and Andre—Celestial’s longtime friend who moves into the space left by Roy’s absence. Life, and love, must go on. When the couple writes “I am innocent” to each other in consecutive letters, we weep for their world—but Jones makes sure that we can’t look away. (Nick R.)
The Strange Bird by Jeff VanderMeer: Nothing is what it seems in VanderMeer’s fiction: bears fly, lab-generated protoplasm shapeshifts, and magic undoes science. In this expansion of his acclaimed novel Borne, which largely focused on terrestrial creatures scavenging a post-collapse wasteland, VanderMeer turns his attention upward. Up in the sky, things look a bit different. (Check out his prodigious Year in Reading here.) (Nick M.)
House of Impossible Beauties by Joseph Cassara: First made famous in the documentary Paris Is Burning, New York City’s House of Xtravaganza is now getting a literary treatment in Cassara’s debut novel—one that’s already drawing comparisons to Hanya Yanagihara’s A Little Life. The story follows teenage Angel, a young drag queen just coming into her own, as she falls in love, founds her own house and becomes the center of a vibrant—and troubled—community. Critics call it “fierce, tender, and heartbreaking.” (Kaulie)
Freshwater by Akwaeke Emezi: A surreal, metaphysical debut novel dealing with myth, mental health, and fractured selves centering around Ada, a woman from southern Nigeria "born with one foot on the other side." She attends college in the U.S., where several internal voices emerge to pull her this way and that. Library Journal calls this "a gorgeous, unsettling look into the human psyche." (Lydia)
Red Clocks by Leni Zumas: The latest novel from the author of The Listeners follows five women of different station in a small town in Oregon in a U.S. where abortion and IVF have been banned and embryos have been endowed with all the rights of people. A glimpse at the world some of our current lawmakers would like to usher in, one that Maggie Nelson calls "mordant, political, poetic, alarming, and inspiring--not to mention a way forward for fiction now." (Lydia)
Heart Berries by Terese Mailhot: In her debut memoir, Mailhot—raised on the Seabird Island Indian Reservation in southwestern Canada, presently a postdoctoral fellow at Purdue—grapples with a dual diagnosis of PTSD and Bipolar II disorder, and with the complicated legacy of a dysfunctional family. Sherman Alexie has hailed this book as “an epic take—an Iliad for the indigenous.” (Emily)
Asymmetry by Lisa Halliday: 2017 Whiting Award winner Halliday has written a novel interweaving the lives of a young American editor and a Kurdistan-bound Iraqi-American man stuck in an immigration holding room in Heathrow airport. Louise Erdrich calls this "a novel of deceptive lightness and a sort of melancholy joy." (Lydia)
Back Talk by Danielle Lazarin: long live the short story, as long as writers like Lazarin are here to keep the form fresh. The collection begins with “Appetite,” narrated by nearly 16-year-old Claudia, whose mother died of lung cancer. She might seem all grown up, but “I am still afraid of pain—for myself, for all of us.” Lazarin brings us back to a time when story collections were adventures in radical empathy: discrete panels of pained lives, of which we are offered chiseled glimpses. Even in swift tales like “Window Guards,” Lazarin has a finely-tuned sense of pacing and presence: “The first time Owen shows me the photograph of the ghost dog, I don’t believe it.” Short stories are like sideways glances or overheard whispers that become more, and Lazarin makes us believe there’s worth in stories that we can steal moments to experience. (Nick R.)
The Château by Paul Goldberg: In Goldberg’s debut novel, The Yid, the irrepressible members of a Yiddish acting troupe stage manages a plot to assassinate Joseph Stalin in hopes of averting a deadly Jewish pogrom. In his second novel, the stakes are somewhat lower: a heated election for control of a Florida condo board. Kirkus writes that Goldberg’s latest “confirms his status as one of Jewish fiction's liveliest new voices, walking in the shoes of such deadpan provocateurs as Mordecai Richler and Stanley Elkin.” (Matt)
The Line Becomes a River by Francisco Cantú: A memoir by a Whiting Award-winner who served as a U.S. border patrol agent. Descended from Mexican immigrants, Cantú spends four years in the border patrol before leaving for civilian life. His book documents his work at the border, and his subsequent quest to discover what happened to a vanished immigrant friend. (Lydia)
Call Me Zebra by Azareen Van der Vliet Oloomi: If the driving force of Van der Vliet Oloomi's first novel, Fra Keeler, was "pushing narrative to its limits" through unbuilding and decomposition, her second novel, Call Me Zebra, promises to do the same through a madcap and darkly humorous journey of retracing the past to build anew. Bibi Abbas Abbas Hossein is last in a line of autodidacts, anarchists, and atheists, whose family left Iran by way of Spain when she was a child. The book follows Bibi in present day as she returns to Barcelona from the U.S., renames herself Zebra and falls in love. Van der Vliet Oloomi pays homage to a quixotic mix of influences—including Miguel de Cervantes, Jorge Luis Borges, and Kathy Acker—in Call Me Zebra, which Kirkus calls "a brilliant, demented, and bizarro book that demands and rewards all the attention a reader might dare to give it." (Anne)
Some Hell by Patrick Nathan: A man commits suicide, leaving his wife, daughter, and two sons reckoning with their loss. Focused on the twinned narratives of Colin, a middle schooler coming to terms with his sexuality, as well as Diane, his mother who’s trying to mend her fractured family, Nathan’s debut novel explores the various ways we cope with maturity, parenting, and heartbreak. (Read Nathan's Year in Reading here.) (Nick M.)
The Wedding Date by Jasmine Guillory: If 2017 was any indication, events in 2018 will try the soul. Some readers like to find escape from uncertain times with dour dystopian prognostications or strained family stories (and there are plenty). But what about something fun? Something with sex (and maybe, eventually, love). Something Roxane Gay called a "charming, warm, sexy gem of a novel....One of the best books I've read in a while." Something so fun and sexy it earned its author a two-book deal (look out for the next book, The Proposal, this fall). Wouldn't it feel good to feel good again? (Lydia)
MARCH
The Census by Jesse Ball: Novelist Ball's nimble writing embodies the lightness and quickness that Calvino prized (quite literally, too: he pens his novels in a mad dash of days to weeks). And he is prolific, too. Since his previous novel, How to Start a Fire and Why, he has has written about the practice of lucid dreaming and his unique form of pedagogy, as well as a delightfully morbid compendium of Henry King’s deaths, with Brian Evenson. Ball's seventh novel, The Census, tells the story of a dying doctor and his concern regarding who will care for his son with Down Syndrome, as they set off together on a cross-country journey. (Anne)
Men and Apparitions by Lynne Tillman: News of a new Tillman novel is worthy of raising a glass. Men and Apparitions is the follow-up novel to Tillman's brilliant, ambitious American Genius: A Comedy. Men and Apparitions looks closely at our obsession with the image through the perspective of cultural anthropologist Ezekiel "Zeke" Hooper Stark. Norman Rush says, "this book is compelling and bracing and you read many sentences twice to get all the juice there is in them.” Sarah Manguso has said she is "grateful" for Tillman's "authentically weird and often indescribable books." I second that. (Anne)
Whiskey & Ribbons by Leesa Cross-Smith: Police officer Eamon Michael Royce is killed in the line of duty. His pregnant wife, Evi, narrates Eamon’s passing with elegiac words: “I think of him making the drive, the gentle peachy July morning light illuminating his last moments, his last heartbeat, his last breath.” Months later and wracked with grief, Evi falls for her brother-in-law Dalton: “Backyard-wandering, full-moon pregnant in my turquoise maternity dress and tobacco-colored cowboy boots. I’d lose my way. Dalton would find me. He was always finding me.” The sentences in Cross-Smith’s moving debut are lifted by a sense of awe and mystery—a style attuned to the graces of this world. Whiskey & Ribbons turns backward and forward in time: we hear Eamon’s anxieties about fatherhood, and Dalton’s continuous search for meaning in his life. “I am always hot, like I’m on fire,” Evi dreams later in the novel, still reliving her husband’s death, “burning and gasping for air.” In Cross-Smith’s novel, the past is never forgotten. (Nick R.)
The Emissary by Yoko Tawada (translated by Margaret Mitsutani): In a New Yorker essay on Tawada, author of Memoirs of a Polar Bear, Riva Galchen wrote that “often in [her] work, one has the feeling of having wandered into a mythology that is not one’s own.” Tawada’s latest disorienting mythology is set in a Japan ravaged by a catastrophe. If children are the future, what does it presage that, post-disaster, they are emerging from the womb as frail, aged creatures blessed with an uncanny wisdom? (Read her Year in Reading here.) (Matt)
The Sparsholt Affair by Alan Hollinghurst: Hollinghurst’s sixth novel has already received glowing reviews in the U.K. As the title suggests, the plot hinges on a love affair, and follows two generations of the Sparsholt family, opening in 1940 at Oxford, just before WWII. The Guardian called it “an unashamedly readable novel...indeed it feels occasionally like Hollinghurst is trying to house all the successful elements of his previous books under the roof of one novel.” To those of us who adore his books, this sounds heavenly. (Hannah)
The Chandelier by Clarice Lispector (translated by Magdalena Edwards and Benjamin Moser): Since Katrina Dodson published a translation of Lispector’s complete stories in 2015, the Brazilian master's popularity has enjoyed a resurgence. Magdalena Edwards and Benjamin Moser’s new translation of Lispector’s second novel promises to extend interest in the deceased writer’s work. It tells the story of Virginia, a sculptor who crafts intricate pieces in marked isolation. This translation marks the first time The Chandelier has ever appeared in English (Ismail).
The Parking Lot Attendant by Nafkote Tamirat: It's very easy to love this novel but difficult to describe it. A disarming narrator begins her account from a community with strange rules and obscure ideology located on an unnamed island. While she and her father uneasily bide their time in this not-quite-utopia, she reflects on her upbringing in Boston, and a friendship--with the self-styled leader of the city's community of Ethiopian immigrants--that begins to feel sinister. As the story unfolds, what initially looked like a growing-up story in a semi-comic key becomes a troubling allegory of self-determination and sacrifice. (Lydia)
Let's No One Get Hurt by Jon Pineda: A fifteen-year-old girl named Pearl lives in squalor in a southern swamp with her father and two other men, scavenging for food and getting by any way they can. She meets a rich neighbor boy and starts a relationship, eventually learning that his family holds Pearl's fate in their hands. Publisher's Weekly called it "an evocative novel about the cruelty of children and the costs of poverty in the contemporary South." (Lydia)
The Merry Spinster by Mallory Ortberg: Fairy tales get a feminist spin in this short story collection inspired by Ortberg's most popular Toast column, "Children's Stories Made Horrific." This is not your childhood Cinderella, but one with psychological horror and Ortberg's signature snark. Carmen Maria Machado calls it a cross between, "Terry Pratchett’s satirical jocularity and Angela Carter’s sinister, shrewd storytelling, and the result is gorgeous, unsettling, splenic, cruel, and wickedly smart." Can't wait to ruin our favorite fables! (Tess)
The House of Broken Angels by Luis Alberto Urrea: Urrea is one of the best public speakers I’ve ever seen with my 35-year-old eyes, so it’s incredible that it’s not even the thing he’s best at. He’s the recipient of an American Book Award and a Pulitzer nominee for The Devil’s Highway. His new novel is about the daily life of a multi-generational Mexican-American family in California. Or as he puts it, “an American family—one that happens to speak Spanish and admire the Virgin of Guadalupe.” (Janet)
Speak No Evil by Uzodinma Iweala: Nearly 15 years after his critically-acclaimed debut novel, Beasts of No Nation, was published, Iweala is back with a story as deeply troubling. Teenagers Niru and Meredith are best friends who come from very different backgrounds. When Niru’s secret is accidentally revealed (he’s queer), there is unimaginable and unspeakable consequences for both teens. Publishers Weekly’s starred review says the “staggering sophomore novel” is “notable both for the raw force of Iweala’s prose and the moving, powerful story.” (Carolyn)
American Histories: Stories by John Edgar Wideman: Wideman’s new book is a nearly fantastical stretching and blurring of conventional literary forms—including history, fiction, philosophy, biography, and deeply felt personal vignettes. We get reimagined conversations between the abolitionist Frederick Douglass and the doomed white crusader for racial equality John Brown. We get to crawl inside the mind of a man sitting on the Williamsburg Bridge, ready to jump. We get Wideman pondering deaths in his own family. We meet Jean Michel Basquiat and Nat Turner. What we get, in the end, is a book unlike any other, the work of an American master working at peak form late in a long and magnificent career. (Bill)
Happiness by Aminatta Forna: A novel about what happens when an expert on the habits of foxes and an expert on the trauma of refugees meet in London, one that Paul Yoon raved about it in his Year in Reading: "It is a novel that carries a tremendous sense of the world, where I looked up upon finishing and sensed a shift in what I thought I knew, what I wanted to know. What a gift." In a starred review, Publisher's Weekly says "Forna's latest explores instinct, resilience, and the complexity of human coexistence, reaffirming her reputation for exceptional ability and perspective." (Lydia)
The Neighborhood by Mario Vargas Llosa (translated by Edith Grossman): The Nobel Prize winner's latest arrives in translation from the extraordinary Edith Grossman. The Neighborhood is symphonic, a “thriller,” if you can call it that, about a detective whose wife gets roped into a debilitating situation. It is set in Llosa’s 1990s Peru, and you see this place with its paradox of grayness and color, juxtaposed with spots of blood. Two women married to very affluent men are having a lesbian affair, and one of their husbands, Enrique, is being blackmailed. When he fails to meet a photo magazine editor’s demands, he is slandered with photos of an erotic encounter on the front pages of the magazine. These two threads will converge at a point of explosion as is wont with Llosa’s novels. While this may not be his best work, it will keep readers reading all the way. (Chigozie)
My Dead Parents by Anya Yurchyshyn: Sometimes truth is more fascinating than fiction. Such is the case with Yurchyshyn's My Dead Parents, which started as an anonymous Tumblr blog where the author posted photos and slivers of her parents' correspondences in an attempt to piece together the mystery of their lives. Yurchyshyn's father was a banker who died in Ukraine in a car "accident" that was possibly a hit when she was 16, and years later, though not many, her mother succumbed to alcoholism. Her parents made an enviously handsome couple, but they lived out Leo Tolstoy’s adage of each family being unhappy in its own way. Yurchyshyn's tale is one of curiosity and discovery; it's also an inquiry into grief and numbness. Her Buzzfeed essay, "How I Met My Dead Parents," provides an apt introduction. (Anne)
The Last Watchman of Old Cairo by Michael David Lukas: Year in Reading alum and author of The Oracle of Stamboul explores the history of Cairo's Ben Ezra Synagogue (site of the famous Cairo Geniza document trove discovered in the nineteenth century) through the story of its generations of Muslim watchmen as gleaned by their modern-day, Berkeley-dwelling scion. Rabih Alameddine calls it "a beautiful, richly textured novel, ambitious and delicately crafted...a joy." (Lydia)
Bury What We Cannot Take by Kirstin Chen: This is an atmospheric novel of betrayal and ardent allegiance to ideology and political choices. When young Ah Liam decides it’s virtuous to report the resistance of his grandmother to Maoist rule to the authorities, he unravels his family with his own hands. His decision leads to the family having to flee the country and for them to have to make a decision: leave a fraction of the family behind or face greater harm. With its striking title about the sacrifice (the “burying”) of those who are left behind, the novel succeeds in drawing a very striking portrait of this turbulent period of Chinese history. (Chigozie)
Memento Park by Mark Sarvas: Many of us who have been with The Millions for some years surely remember Sarvas’s pioneer lit blog, The Elegant Variation—and look forward to his second novel, Memento Park, 10 years after his critically acclaimed Harry, Revised. Memento Park is about art, history, Jewishness, fathers and sons: Joseph O’Neill writes pithily, “A thrilling, ceaselessly intelligent investigation into the crime known as history.” So far, Kirkus praises Sarvas for “skillful prose and well-drawn characters.” (Sonya)
Wrestling with the Devil by Ngũgĩ wa Thiong'o: Famously, Kenyan author Ngugi wrote his Gikuyu novel Devil on the Cross while serving out a prison sentence. (And he did it on toilet paper, no less.) Now, the writer whom Chimamanda Adichie calls “one of the greatest of our time” is releasing a memoir of his prison stay, begun a half-hour before he was finally released. Taking the form of an extended flashback, the memoir begins at the moment of the author’s arrest and ends, a year later, when he left prison with a novel draft. (Thom)
Stray City by Chelsey Johnson: Twenty-something artist Andrea ran away from the Midwest to Portland to escape the expectation to be a mother and create a life for herself as a queer artist. Then, confused and hurt by a break-up, she hooked up with a man—and ended up having his child. Chelsey Johnson’s debut novel, which comes after a successful run of short stories like the Ploughshares Solo “Escape and Reverse,” is a humorous and heartfelt exploration of sexual identity and unconventional families. (Ismail)
APRIL
The Female Persuasion by Meg Wolitzer: Wolitzer is one of those rare novelists who is able to capture the zeitgeist. Her follow up to The Interestings, The Female Persuasion centers around Greer Kadetsky, who is a freshman in college when she meets Faith Frank, an inspiring feminist icon who ignites Greer's passions. After graduation, Greer lands a job at Frank's foundation and things get real. Wolitzer is a master weaver of story lines and in this novel she brings four together as the characters search for purpose in life and love. As the starred review in Publisher's Weekly says, this novel explores, "what it is to both embrace womanhood and suffer because of it." Amen sister. (Claire)
The Recovering by Leslie Jamison: The bestselling author of The Empathy Exams brings us The Recovering, which explores addiction and recovery in America, in particular the stories we tell ourselves about addiction. Jamison also examines the relationship many well-known writers and artists had with addiction, including Amy Winehouse, Billie Holiday, Raymond Carver, David Foster Wallace, and more. The Recovering has received advance praise from Stephen King, Vivian Gornick, and Anne Fadiman. Chris Kraus described the The Recovering as “a courageous and brilliant example of what nonfiction writing can do.” (Zoë)
Circe by Madeline Miller: It took Miller 10 years to write her Orange Prize-winning debut novel, The Song of Achilles. Happily, we only had to wait another five for Circe, even more impressive when one considers that the novel’s story covers millennia. Here Miller again invokes the classical world and a massive cast of gods, nymphs, and mortals, but it’s all seen through the knowing eyes of Circe, the sea-witch who captures Odysseus and turns men into monsters. (Kaulie)
America Is Not the Heart by Elaine Castillo: As we enter year two of the Donald Trump presidency, Castillo’s first novel challenges readers to look beyond the headlines to grasp the human dimension of America’s lure to immigrants in this big-hearted family saga about three generations of Filipina women who struggle to reconcile the lives they left behind in the Philippines with the ones they are making for themselves in the American suburbs. (Michael)
You Think It, I’ll Say It by Curtis Sittenfeld: Is Sittenfeld a serious literary novelist who dabbles in chick lit? Is she a writer of frothy beach reads who happens to have an MFA from Iowa? Do such distinctions still have any meaning in today’s fiction market? Readers can decide for themselves when Sittenfeld publishes her first story collection, after five novels that have ranged from her smash debut Prep to American Wife, her critically acclaimed “fictional biography” of former First Lady Laura Bush. (Michael)
Varina by Charles Frazier: Returning to the setting of his NBA winning Cold Mountain, Frazier taps into the American Civil War, specifically the life of Varina Howell Davis, the teenage bride of Jefferson Davis, president of the Confederacy. In this personal tragedy set in an epic period of American history, Frazier examines how “being on the wrong side of history carries consequences” regardless of one’s personal degree of involvement in the offense. Something to think about. (Il’ja)
Sharp: The Women Who Made an Art of Having an Opinion by Michelle Dean: You’ve been reading Dean’s reviews and journalism for some time at The Nation, The Guardian, Buzzfeed, The New Yorker, Slate, Salon The New Republic, et alia. Winner of the 2016 NBCC's Nona Balakian Citation for Excellence in Reviewing, Dean is debuting her first book with apt timing: Sharp features intertwining depictions of our most important 20th-century female essayists and cultural critics—Susan Sontag, Dorothy Parker, Hannah Arendt, Pauline Kael, Rebecca West, Janet Malcolm, Joan Didion, and others. A hybrid of biography, literary criticism, and cultural history, Sharp has been praised and starred by PW as “stunning and highly accessible introduction to a group of important writers.” (Sonya)
How to Write an Autobiographical Novel by Alexander Chee: In addition to receiving a starred review—and being named a Top 10 Essay Collection of Spring 2018—by Publishers Weekly, Chee’s essay collection explores a myriad of topics that include identity, the AIDS crisis, Trump, tarot, bookselling, art, activism, and more. Ocean Vuong described the book as “life's wisdom—its hurts, joys and redemptions—salvaged from a great fire.” (Zoë)
Disoriental by Négar Djavadi (translated by Tina Kover): From the waiting room of a French fertility clinic, a young woman revisits the stories of generations of her Iranian ancestors culminating in her parents, who brought her to France when she was 10. This French hit, published in English by Europa Editions, is called "a rich, irreverent, kaleidoscopic novel of real originality and power" by Alexander Maksik. (Lydia)
Heads of the Colored People by Nafissa Thompson-Spires: A debut collection of stories exploring black identity and middle-class life in so-called "post-racial" America, with storylines ranging from gun violence and depression to lighter matters like a passive-aggressive fight between the mothers of school kids. George Saunders called these stories "vivid, fast, funny, way-smart, and verbally inventive." (Lydia)
Black Swans by Eve Babitz: Until last year, Babitz was an obscure writer who chronicled hedonistic Los Angeles in the 1960s and 1970s. And then Counterpoint and NYRB Classics began reissuing her memoirs and autofiction, and word of Babitz’s unique voice began to spread. In The New Yorker, Jia Tolentino wrote, “On the page, Babitz is pure pleasure—a perpetual-motion machine of no-stakes elation and champagne fizz.” Novelist Catie Disabato asserts that Babitz “isn’t the famous men she fucked or the photographs she posed in. She is the five books of memoir and fiction she left behind for young women, freshly moved to Los Angeles, to find.” Black Swans is the latest in these recent reissues. Published in 1993, these stories/essays cover everything from the AIDS crisis to learning to tango. And, of course, the Chateau Marmont. (Edan)
Look Alive Out There by Sloane Crosley: Crosley, author of the New York Times bestselling essay collection I Was Told There’d Be Cake, returns with a new collection of essays. Ten years removed from her debut, Crosley takes on issues ranging from the pressures of fertility, to swingers, to confronting her own fame. Look Alive promises to be a worthwhile follow-up to Crosley’s 2011 collection How Did You Get This Number?. (Ismail)
The Only Story by Julian Barnes: Give this to Barnes: the Man Booker laureate’s not afraid of difficult premises. In his 13th novel, a college student named Paul spends a lazy summer at a tennis club, where he meets a middle-aged woman with two daughters around his age. Soon enough, the two are having an affair, and a flash-forward to a much-older Paul makes clear it upended their lives. (Thom)
Blue Self-Portrait by Noémi Lefebvre (translated by Sophie Lewis): In this torrential inner monologue out from Oakland publisher Transit Books, a woman reflects on music, politics and her affair with a musician, a pianist obsessed with the 1910 self-portrait painted by Arnold Schoenberg, a haunting, blue-tinted work in which the composer’s“expression promised nothing positive for the art of the future, conveyed an anxiety for the future, looked far beyond any definition of the work of art or of the future.” (Matt)
How to Be Safe by Tom McCallister: This novel, by the author of The Young Widower’s Handbook, is billed as We Need to Talk About Kevin meets Dept. of Speculation—those are two of my favorite books! Also? Tom McCallister…is a man! Although high school English teacher Anna Crawford is quickly exonerated after being named a suspect in a campus shooting, she nevertheless suffers intense scrutiny in the wake of the tragedy. As the jacket copy says, “Anna decides to wholeheartedly reject the culpability she’s somehow been assigned, and the rampant sexism that comes with it, both in person and online.” Of the book, novelist Amber Sparks writes, “It’s so wonderful—so furious and so funny and urgent and needed in this mad ugly space we're sharing with each other.” Author Wiley Cash calls McCallister “an exceptionally talented novelist.” (Edan)
MAY
Warlight by Michael Ondaatje: From internationally acclaimed, bestselling author of The English Patient and Divisidero among his other works, this new novel from Ondaatje is set in the decade after World War II. When their parents move to Singapore, 14-year-old Nathaniel and his older sister, Rachel, are left in London under the watchful eye of a mysterious figure called The Moth. As they become immersed in his eccentric circle of friends, they are both protected and educated in confusing ways. The mystery deepens when their mother returns months later without their father, but gives them no explanation. Years later, Nathaniel begins to uncover the story through a journey of facts, recollection, and imagination. If only Anthony Minghella were still with us to make the movie. (Claire)
The Mars Room by Rachel Kushner: In her third novel, two-time National Book Award-finalist Kushner writes about a woman named Romy Hall who is serving two consecutive life sentences (plus six years) in a prison in California’s Central Valley. The year is 2003, and the Mars Room in the title refers to a strip club in San Francisco where Romy used to dance; according to the jacket copy, Kushner details “the deadpan absurdities of institutional living…with humor and precision.” George Saunders calls Kushner “a young master” and Robert Stone wrote that she is “a novelist of the very first order.” Check out this short excerpt published by Entertainment Weekly. (Edan)
Some Trick by Helen DeWitt: If you periodically spend afternoons sitting around wondering when you will get to read something new by DeWitt, this is your season. In May we get 13 stories from the brilliant writer who brought us The Last Samurai—one of the best books of this or any millennium—and the evilly good Lightning Rods. In this collection DeWitt will evidently apply her mordant virtuosity to territory ranging from statistics to publishing. (Lydia)
Motherhood by Sheila Heti: Heti's previous two books have created and followed lines of inquiry—with Misha Glouberman she wrote a book of conversational philosophy, The Chairs Are Where People Go. Heti’s novel How Should a Person Be? is an early work of autofiction that delves deep into art-making and friendship. Some called it a literary form of reality TV, making James Wood’s backhanded assessment of the book as both “unpretentious" and “narcissistic" quite the unintentional compliment. Heti's new novel Motherhood follows in a similar line of existential questioning—the narrator approaches the topic of motherhood, asking not when but if she should endeavor to become a mother at all. (Anne)
That Kind of Mother by Rumaan Alam: “Just because something is natural doesn’t mean it’s easy.” Priscilla Johnson says those words to Rebecca Stone early in Alam’s novel. Rebecca’s just given birth to her son Jacob, and the novel’s first scene feels both dizzying and precise—a visceral reminder of life’s complex surprises. Priscilla is the hospital staffer who most calms Rebecca’s anxieties, so much that she asks Priscilla to be Jacob’s nanny. A few years later, Priscilla’s own pregnancy ends in heartbreak. Rebecca’s decision to adopt Andrew is complex: she loves and misses Priscilla, and dearly loves this boy, but is she ready for the reality of raising a black son as a white mother? Alam’s sharp narrative asides—lines like “Some percentage of the things she did for the children were actually for her”—carry such weight and truth that we trust his route toward the bigger question of the book: are we ever ready for the pain and joy that life delivers us? (Nick R.)
Adjustment Day by Chuck Palahniuk: Four years since publishing his last novel, Palahniuk returns in the era of fake news, obvious government corruption, and widespread despair. (It’s as though the protagonists in his most famous novels were right from the start.) In Adjustment Day, these themes weave together in the form of a mysterious day of reckoning orchestrated by an out of touch, aging group of elected officials. (Nick M.)
Last Stories by William Trevor: Prior to his death in November 2016, Trevor told a friend that the book he was working on would be called Last Stories. That is this book—the last we will ever have from the Irish author. Six of the 10 stories included here have never been published before, and what preview would be sufficient? Perhaps just this: if the engine of accomplished fiction truly is empathy, then you will be hard pressed to uncover a finer practitioner of the core humanity that inspired and inspires this deliberate, and personal, epitaph. RIP. (Il’ja)
MEM by Bethany Morrow In this debut novel set in a speculative past, a Montreal-based scientist discovers a way to extract memories from people, resulting in physical beings, Mems, who are forced to experience the same memory over and over. Complications ensue when one of the Mems, Dolores Extract #1, begins to make and form her own memories. (Hannah)
And Now We Have Everything by Meaghan O’Connell: O’Connell’s memoir—her first book—is here to remedy the “nobody tells you what it’s really like” refrain of new mothers. Giving birth to her son in her 20s, after an unplanned pregnancy, O’Connell chronicles the seismic changes that happened to her body, routine, social life, and existential purpose before she knew what was coming. All the cool moms of literary twitter (including Edan!) are raving. (Janet)
The Ensemble by Aja Gabel: A novel about art and friendship and the fraught world of accomplished musicians—four young friends who comprise a string quartet. Mat Johnson said Gabel's novel "deserves a standing ovation." For a taste of Gabel's prose, read her Best American Essays-notable piece on grief and eating ortolans in France. (Lydia)
The Lost Empress by Sergio De La Pava: De La Pava’s first novel, A Naked Singularity, was the rare self-published novel to receive critical acclaim, including the PEN/Bingham Prize. The Lost Empress is as ambitious as his first, a 672-page doorstopper that takes on both football and the criminal justice system. The novel has a large cast, but centers on two characters: Nina Gill, the daughter of the owner of the Dallas Cowboys, and presumed heir to the franchise; and Nuno DeAngeles, “a brilliant criminal mastermind,” who gets himself thrown into prison in order to commit a crime. (Hannah)
A Lucky Man by Jamel Brinkley: New York-bred writer Brinkley (and Year in Reading alum) delivers this anticipated debut story collection. Ranging from encounters on the New York subway to a young boy’s first encounter with the reality of racial hierarchy, these sensitive and probing stories promise to captivate. If you’ve read Brinkley’s title story “A Lucky Man” in A Public Space, then you know that he’s a talent to watch. (Ismail)
Belly Up by Rita Bullwinkel: Bullwinkel’s stories are fantastic and fabulist feats that (often) address our messy, cumbersome bodies in thrilling and imaginative ways. For example: in lieu of a bra, a man is hired to support a daughter's breasts; a woman whose plastic surgeon, when fixing her eyes, leaves her with a turkey neck (not literally but); twin brothers Gleb and Oleg, surgeon and sculptor, live in a prison infirmary and perform a thumb transplant. A compelling new voice, Bullwinkel has had stories in Tin House, Guernica, and Noon. Her first book, the story collection Belly Up, will be published by A Strange Object. (Anne)
The Pisces by Melissa Broder: You may know Broder because of her incredible So Sad Today tweets. If you do, you won’t be surprised to hear about her novel, The Pisces, which follows a Ph.D student in love with a Californian merman. The student, Lucy, has a breakdown after nine years of grad school, which compels her Angeleno sister to invite her to dogsit at her place. On the beach, a merman appears, and Lucy embarks on a romance that seems impossible. (Thom)
JUNE
Kudos by Rachel Cusk: When I first encountered Cusk's writing in the mid-aughts I wrote her off as an author of potentially tedious domestic drama. I was woefully wrong. It's true Cusk is a chronicler of the domestic: she is as known for her memoirs of motherhood and divorce as she is for her novels, but her writing is innovative, observant, and bold. The New Yorker declared that with the trilogy that her latest novel Kudos completes, Cusk has "renovated" the novel, merging fiction with oral history, retooling its structure. Cusk has said: "I’ve never treated fiction as a veil or as a thing to hide behind, which perhaps was, not a mistake exactly, but a sort of risky way to live." (Anne)
A Suitable Girl by Vikram Seth: Reportedly delayed by writer’s block brought on by a breakup, Seth has finally produced the much-anticipated sequel to his international smash of 1993, A Suitable Boy. That novel, a gargantuan epic set in post-independence India in the 1950s, was a multi-family saga built around the pursuit of a suitable husband in a world of arranged marriages. In the “jump sequel,” the original protagonist is now in her 80s and on the prowl for a worthy bride for her favorite grandson. Though best-known for A Suitable Boy, the versatile Seth has produced novels, poetry, opera, a verse novel, a travel book, and a memoir. (Bill)
Florida by Lauren Groff: After collecting fans like Barack Obama with her bestselling novel Fates and Furies, Groff's next book is a collection of short stories that center around Florida, "the landscape, climate, history, and state of mind." Included is "Dogs Go Wolf," the haunting story that appeared in The New Yorker earlier in the year. In a recent interview, Groff gave us the lay of the land: "The collection is a portrait of my own incredible ambivalence about the state where I've lived for twelve years...I love the disappearing natural world, the sunshine, the extraordinary and astonishing beauty of the place as passionately as I hate the heat and moisture and backward politics and the million creatures whose only wish is to kill you." (Claire)
There There by Tommy Orange: Set in Oakland, Orange's novel describes the disparate lives that come together for the Oakland Powwow and what happens to them when they get there. In an extraordinary endorsement, Sherman Alexie writes that Orange's novel "is truly the first book to capture what it means to be an urban Indian—perhaps the first novel ever to celebrate and honor and elevate the joys and losses of urban Indians. You might think I'm exaggerating but this book is so revolutionary—evolutionary—that Native American literature will never be the same." (Lydia)
Upstate by James Wood: It’s been 15 years since Wood’s first novel, The Book Against God, was published. What was Wood doing in the meantime? Oh, just influencing a generation of novelists from his perch at The New Yorker, where his dissecting reviews also functioned as miniature writing seminars. He also penned a writing manual, How Fiction Works. His sophomore effort concerns the Querry family, who reunite in upstate New York to help a family member cope with depression and to pose the kinds of questions fiction answers best: How do people get through difficulty? What does it mean to be happy? How should we live our lives? (Hannah)
The Great Believers by Rebecca Makkai: This third novel from the acclaimed author of The Borrower and The Hundred-Year House interlaces the story of an art gallery director whose friends are succumbing to the AIDS epidemic in 1980s Chicago with a mother struggling to find her estranged daughter 30 years later in contemporary Paris. “The Great Believers is by turns funny, harrowing, tender, devastating, and always hugely suspenseful,” says Margot Livesey, author of Mercury. (Michael)
Good Trouble by Joseph O’Neill: Frequent New Yorker and Harper’s readers will know that O’Neill has been writing a lot of short fiction lately. With the new Good Trouble, the Netherland author now has a full collection, comprised of 11 off-kilter, unsettling stories. Their characters range from a would-be renter in New York who can’t get anyone to give him a reference to a poet who can’t decide whether or not to sign a petition. (Thom)
Number One Chinese Restaurant by Lillian Li: A family chronicle, workplace drama, and love story rolled into one, Li's debut chronicles the universe of the Beijing Duck House restaurant of Rockville, Md., run by a family and long-time employees who intertwine in various ways when disaster strikes. Lorrie Moore raves, "her narratives are complex, mysterious, moving, and surprising." (Lydia)
SICK by Porochista Khakpour: In her much anticipated memoir SICK, Khakpour chronicles her arduous experience with illness, specifically late-stage Lyme disease. She examines her efforts to receive a diagnosis and the psychological and physiological impact of being so sick for so long, including struggles with mental health and addiction. Khakpour’s memoir demonstrates the power of survival in the midst of pain and uncertainty. (Zoë)
Fight No More by Lydia Millet: Millet’s 2010 collection Love in Infant Monkeys was a Pulitzer Prize finalist. Eight years later she’s released another collection of stories arranged around a real estate broker and their family as they struggle to reconnect. Millet’s satire is well-known for it’s sharp brutality—and its compassionate humanity. Both sides are on full display here. (Kaulie)
Tonight I'm Someone Else by Chelsea Hodson: Examining the intersection of social media and intimacy, the commercial and the corporeal, the theme of Hodson's essay collection is how we are pushed and pulled by our desire. The Catapult teacher's debut has been called "racingly good…refreshing and welcome" by Maggie Nelson. (Tess)
Invitation to a Bonfire by Adrienne Celt: On the heels of her critically praised debut, The Daughters, Celt gives us a love-triangle story that, according to the publisher, is “inspired by the infamous Nabokov marriage, with a spellbinding psychological thriller at its core.” The protagonist is a young Russian refugee named Zoya who becomes entangled with her boarding school’s visiting writer, Leo Orlov, and his imperious wife, Vera. Our own Edan Lepucki praised the novel as “a sexy, brilliant, and gripping novel about the fine line between passion and obsession. I am in awe of Celt's mastery as a prose stylist and storyteller; I can't stop thinking about this amazing book.” (Sonya)
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A Year in Reading: 2017
Over the last 13 years, the Year in Reading has collected the book recommendations and musings of some of the most brilliant readers and writers working today. Looking at the series over time it becomes an instrument of measurement, not only for tracking the way the site itself has grown and evolved, but for recording the big books of the moment, or the books of yesteryear that readers never tire of discovering anew. It can also capture--in a glancing, kaleidoscopic way--the general mood of the professional reading public. The 2016 Year in Reading was in some respects pretty grim, as contributors tried to reconcile reading, at its heart an intensely private, personal passion, with the requirements of being human in a world where bad things persist in happening.
This year I'd like to focus on the good things. The Year in Reading is my favorite thing we do at this site, and I'm so grateful for the writers who gave generously of their time to participate. I'm grateful for the dedicated readers who navigate here every morning and give the site a reason to live, and for the supporters who are helping us secure the future. This is our 14th year, and 14 years is an eon in Internet Time. The Millions won't survive the heat death of the universe, but it has already stuck around longer than at least some bad things will.
A lot of our 2017 Year in Reading contributors were anxious and tired and read less than they would have liked. The good news is that they still did a lot of excellent, engaged reading. The good news is that there are more exquisite and important things to read than you'll ever read in your lifetime. The good news is that books are still the vehicles for inquiry, revelation, devastation, and joy that they have always been.
The names of our 2017 contributors will be unveiled throughout the month as entries are published (starting with our traditional opener from Languagehat’s Stephen Dodson later this morning). Bookmark this post, load up the main page, subscribe to our RSS feed, or follow us on Facebook or Twitter to make sure you don’t miss an entry — we’ll run three or four per day. And if you look forward to the Year in Reading every year, please consider supporting the site and ensuring this December tradition continues for years to come.
-Lydia Kiesling
Do you love Year in Reading and the amazing books and arts content that The Millions produces year round? We are asking readers for support to ensure that The Millions can stay vibrant for years to come. Please click here to learn about several simple ways you can support The Millions now.
Stephen Dodson, co-author of Uglier Than a Monkey’s Armpit, proprietor of Languagehat.
Tayari Jones, author of An American Marriage.
Eugene Lim, author of Dear Cyborgs.
Edan Lepucki, contributing editor and author of Woman No. 17.
Sonya Chung, contributing editor and author of The Loved Ones.
Emily St. John Mandel, staff writer and author of Station Eleven.
Nick Ripatrazone, contributing editor and author of Ember Days.
Garth Risk Hallberg, contributing editor and author of City on Fire.
Janet Potter, staff writer.
Louise Erdrich, author of LaRose.
Ahmed Saadawi, author of Frankenstein in Baghdad.
Jesmyn Ward, author of Sing, Unburied, Sing.
Jeff VanderMeer, author of Borne.
Lidia Yuknavitch, author of The Book of Joan.
Garth Greenwell, author of What Belongs to You.
Carmen Maria Machado, author of Her Body and Other Parties.
Kevin Young, author of Bunk: The Rise of Hoaxes, Humbug, Plagiarists, Phonies, Post-Facts, and Fake News.
Yoko Tawada, author of Memoirs of a Polar Bear.
Danzy Senna, author of New People.
Jenny Zhang is a poet and writer.
Matthew Klam, author of Who Is Rich.
Paul Yoon, author of The Mountain.
Julie Buntin, author of Marlena.
Brandon Taylor, associate editor of Electric Literature’s Recommended Reading and staff writer at Literary Hub.
Hannah Gersen, staff writer and author of Home Field.
Matt Seidel, staff writer.
Zoë Ruiz, staff writer.
Clare Cameron, staff writer and author of The Last Neanderthal.
Il’ja Rákoš, staff writer.
Ismail Muhammad, staff writer.
Thomas Beckwith, staff writer.
Michael Pollan, author of Cooked: A Natural History of Transformation.
Jeff Chang, author of Can't Stop, Won't Stop.
Robin Sloan, author of Sourdough.
Juan Villoro, author of The Reef.
Chiwan Choi, author of The Yellow House.
Scaachi Koul, author of One Day We'll All Be Dead And None Of This Will Matter.
Gabe Habash, author of Stephen Florida.
Ayobami Adebayo, author of Stay with Me.
Kaveh Akbar, author of Calling a Wolf a Wolf.
Kima Jones, founder of Jack Jones Literary Arts.
Vanessa Hua, author of A River of Stars.
Hamilton Leithauser, rock star.
R.O. Kwon, author of The Incendiaries.
Rakesh Satyal, author of No One Can Pronounce My Name.
Kristen Radtke, author of Imagine Wanting Only This.
Nick Moran, staff writer.
Lydia Kiesling, site editor and author of The Golden State.
Anne Yoder, staff writer.
Michael Bourne, staff writer.
Tess Malone, associate editor.
Bill Morris, staff writer and author of Motor City Burning.
Kaulie Lewis, staff writer.
Myriam Gurba, author of Mean.
Patrick Nathan, author of Some Hell.
Morgan Jerkins, author of This Will Be My Undoing.
Michael David Lukas, author of The Last Watchman of Old Cairo.
Jamel Brinkley, author of A Lucky Man.
Shanthi Sekaran, author of Lucky Boy.
Kara Levy, fiction writer.
Patrick Cottrell, author of Sorry to Disrupt the Peace.
Heather Scott Partington, NBCC emerging critic.
Paul Goldberg, author of The Yid.
Simeon Marsalis, author of A Lie is To Grin.
Kevin Barry, author of Beatlebone.
Laura Turner, writer.
Sarah Smarsh, journalist.
Kyle Chayka, writer.
A Year in Reading: Outro
Don't miss: A Year in Reading 2016, 2015, 2014, 2013, 2012, 2011, 2010, 2009, 2008, 2007, 2006, 2005
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