The Foreign Student: A Novel

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The Millions’ Great Spring 2026 Book Preview

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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 * 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

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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

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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. *

The Millions’ Great Fall 2025 Book Preview

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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 * 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

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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

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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, 202120202019201820172016201520142013,  2011201020092008200720062005

Unsettling the American Dream: The Millions Interviews Viet Thanh Nguyen

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When Viet Thanh Nguyen visited Iowa Writers’ Workshop in May, everyone—including me—was starstruck. He talked about a prevailing belief back in his college years at Berkeley. “People say literature saves the world,” he said. “No, it doesn’t. But social movements do.” At a time when democracies around the world keep making bad decisions and young writers feel the urge to facilitate social changes, Nguyen’s role as one of the leading public intellectuals in the literary world is both inspiring and motivating. He is aware of the underrepresentation of minority groups in literature, but he also understands that great fiction is much more than making one’s community look good. He views the customary writing adage “Show. Don’t tell.” with suspicion. As writers, we need to make great art and bring to light vital social issues, he says, rather than simply trust that readers will understand. In the following interview, we talked about the aesthetics and politics of his brilliant novel The Sympathizer; how his literary education has nourished his writing; and how he deals with opposition and hostility from people with very different worldviews. The Millions: I’d like to start by talking about The Sympathizer. Like everyone, I was hooked from the beginning: “I am a spy, a sleeper, a spook, a man of two faces.” This distinctive perspective challenges the binary thinking that people often have. We cannot use words like “good” or “bad” to describe the narrator; we cannot use words like “failure” or “victory” to describe the war. How did you come up with this premise? Viet Thanh Nguyen: Well, I had to write a novel. And I wanted to write an entertaining novel—that was also a very serious novel at the same time—and a novel that would grapple with politics, history, and obviously the Vietnam War. The spy novel was the genre that was a perfect fit for all of these concerns. And also because I enjoyed reading spy novels, so I knew the genre very well. And as a writer, I gravitate toward both highbrow literature, like modernism, and so-called lowbrow literature, the genre literature. I don't agree with any of these classifications, but the spy novel would allow me to bridge all these things. Lastly, the idea of making a man of two minds and two faces was there from the very beginning, because I wanted the novel to be a cultural critique as well. I wanted the novel to deal with both cultural divisions—the so-called East-West divide—but also ideological divisions between capitalism and communism in the Cold War. So that's where the man with two minds came from. And in order to make that seemed organic and not simply something that I was forcing onto the book, I made him a mixed race—half Vietnamese and half French—and someone who was both infatuated with capitalism but also a devoted communist. Putting all of these elements into his character made these theoretical ideas very organic as the plot unfolded. TM: To follow up on that: In his book The Souls of Black Folk, W.E.B. Du Bois said that this American world yields “no true self-consciousness, but only lets him see himself through the revelation of the other world.” He ever feels his “twoness”: “an American, a Negro; two souls, two thoughts,” “two warring ideals in one dark body.” Also, the opening of The Sympathizer pays tribute to Ralph Ellison’s Invisible Man. I wonder if African-American literature has influenced your writing and the way you perceive the Vietnamese and other previously colonized Asian communicates (e.g. Korean, Filipino)? If so, how? VTN: I have another book called Nothing Ever Dies. And the title comes from Toni Morrison’s Beloved. And in my book, the section where I talked about W.E.B. Du Bois, the quote that you just mentioned to me, and Du Bois’s notion of the inevitable twoness of the Negro that he sees himself through his own eyes and those of others, is also true in many ways for Asian immigrants and Asian Americans. You see that also in the work of someone like Chang-Rae Lee, in the thoughtful Native Speaker. It's no doubt that African-American literature has been very influential on me. I think that African-American writers have created, in the United States, the body of literature that is both most politically committed and yet also most aesthetically elevated. I mean, the masters, the most accomplished practitioners of African-American literature—like Toni Morrison and Ralph Ellison and many more—have demonstrated that you can be both politically and artistically engaged at the same time. And that if you are, in fact, a minority in this country, you need to do both at the same time. So, their model of aesthetic and political commitment was very important for my own work. TM: Who are some of the other writers you most admire, and what else do you feel you have learned from them? VTN: You know, I had a very good literary education as a student when I was growing up before I went to college. So that meant that I had read some of the modernist and classical literature of the West. And then when I got to college, I also encountered African-American literature and Asian-American literature, including Maxine Hong Kingston. And so I'm trying to bring all these different strands together. So Asian-American literature in general has been very influential to me, including Kingston, but also, for example, Chang-Rae Lee's Native Speaker, which I mentioned, and many other works, because they foreground Asian-American experiences. And among other Asian-American writers that I haven’t included, there would be the classics like John Okada, Carlos Bulosan, Frank Chin. Contemporary writers, after Kingston, like Susan Choi—her book, The Foreign Student—or Julie Otsuka, in her novels about the internment. When writing The Sympathizer, I wanted to write a novel that was a so-called minority novel and that was unapologetic about being a person of color in the United States, but also a novel that could contend with both the Vietnam War canon and American literature as a whole. Hopefully it will be an American novel that will also have a presence internationally. So that was why it was important to The Sympathizer to directly confront the Vietnam War, so that I could contest the narratives of American writers of the Vietnam War, like Tim O'Brien, just to name the most famous example. And in writing The Sympathizer, I had my eye directly on how this novel would fit at the canonical level of American literature. Because I had studied writers like Herman Melville and William Faulkner, I wanted this novel to gesture at these major novels and their major concerns, their major themes about American literature and culture. And finally, in writing The Sympathizer, I was also reading European modernist literature, because I always felt that this was not going to be the great American novel; this was going to be the European modernist version of the American novel. So that would be writers like Dostoevsky, Louis-Ferdinand Celine from the 1920s in France, Antonio Lobo Antunes from the 1970s in Portugal. So I really wanted this to be a novel that was both very specific to being Asian-American and American, but also to have those global ambitions as well. [millions_ad] TM: You grew up in the age of “narrative scarcity.” In other words, there were not many stories told from an Asian-American point of view. Because of this, minorities cared more about their representation as a group on the big screen or in fiction. Did you consider the potential reaction of your readership while you were writing? Did you do anything to avoid being misunderstood or misinterpreted? VTN: I was worried about those kinds of things. When I wrote my short story collection The Refugees, most of which was written before The Sympathizer, I was concerned about how my audiences would respond to my work, both Americans in general but also Vietnamese readers. And when I wrote The Sympathizer, I decided that I no longer cared what my audiences thought, that in order to write the novel that I wanted to write, I had to stop caring. Because even as conditions of narrative scarcity were true, which they are, I don't think a writer can allow herself or himself to be shaped by those conditions. We should be aware of narrative scarcity, but we can't let our writing be shaped by that. For example, the anxiety that because there are so few stories about us, we have to write our stories to make our own community look good, whatever that community is. The Sympathizer is written from the perspective of a communist spy. And when I did that, I knew that my community, which is the Vietnamese-Americans, many of them would reject the novel because communism is completely antithetical to Vietnamese-Americans. But I couldn't care about that. And then I knew many Americans would reject the novel because the novel was a very strong critique of American culture. But I couldn't pay attention to that either, not to write the novel I wanted to write. So that can be a tricky position for writers who live in narrative scarcity, we have to be aware of that condition. We have to fight back against it, but we can't let our work be driven by the anxieties around narrative scarcity. TM: Have any of your family members read the novel? What was their feedback like? VTN: I don't know about how many members of my own family have read the book. I don't ask. That could be an awkward question to ask. But I think they are very proud of me, as are many people in the Vietnamese and Vietnamese-American community. So when The Sympathizer came out and got uniformly great reviews, it made, I think, very little difference in the Vietnamese and Vietnamese-American community, because like most communities, they don't read, not on the average, right? I'm exaggerating a little bit. I mean, certainly, some Vietnamese-Americans sought out the book, and I got some very good feedback from them. But I also knew that a lot of Vietnamese-Americans were not reading the book, because they didn't read books or because they heard it was from the perspective of a communist spy, and they just refused to engage. But after the novel won the Pulitzer Prize, all of a sudden, all these Vietnamese-Americans that never read the book and might never read the book were suddenly proud of me. And in Vietnam, the case was similar. But I think the difference the Pulitzer made is that it made more of them read the book. So in Vietnam, for example, even though the book is not available, apparently young Vietnamese readers who can read English will seek the book out in English. Because I encounter quite a few of them, who are foreign students in the United States and who told me that the book offers them something that is completely unavailable in Vietnam, which is history that is completely antithetical to the government's point of view. TM: If I am not wrong, the narrator is loosely based on Pham Xuan An, the Vietnamese man most beloved by American journalists during and shortly after the war. Can you say more about how you balance historical fact with fiction? What do you expect your readers to take away from a setting that is both real and imaginative? VTN: In writing The Sympathizer, I felt that I had a fairly unique opportunity to engage with real historical events and real historical characters, because so much of what I knew about the war in Vietnam, and how it affected Vietnamese people, is fairly common knowledge in the Vietnamese refugee community but is not talked about widely or known widely to the rest of the world. It was actually relatively easy to construct the plot of the novel, because almost all the events are drawn from history. Very little in the novel in terms of major historical events are made up. And yet, for most people, this would be a completely new story. Writing this historical novel, I had an easier time probably than a lot of other historical writers would writing about events that are more widely known. And the major challenge was to put in enough historical detail so that the events would be convincing without writing a history book where there would be too much information. And so I always had to read much more than what actually appeared in the book. But the history from the book is drawn both from my fascination with the Vietnam War—over the last 30 years, I've read a lot of books and seen a lot of movies—but also from some very specific research I had to do for the novel. So, for example, while I knew that the Fall of Saigon had happened and I knew the general outlines of that, I still had to go and read 10 or 15 books on the Fall of Saigon in order to construct first 50 pages of the novel at a level of novelistic detail that would be compelling for the reader. TM: Did you collect oral history? VTN: No, that's a completely different skill set for journalists. That’s not the book I wanted to write. TM: Back when you visited Iowa City in May, you discussed your decision to open the novel in Saigon. You said that if the story had begun in the States and ended in the States, it would have been all about the life and death of the American dream. This inspired me to think about the prevailing immigrant narrative. Even though a lot of those stories intend to challenge the American dream, they are still built upon the assumption that the immigrants are attracted by the American dream in the first place, which, like you mentioned before, “affirms America to Americans.” But you identify as a refugee writer. Can you say more about the potential differences between a refugee narrative and an immigrant narrative? VTN: I think that immigrant and refugee narratives overlap. We cannot completely separate them all the time. But as you were saying, immigrant narratives generally have a trajectory of moving from one country to the other country. And the immigrant narrative implies settling down in the new country. So we leave one home and we build another home. In the context of the United States, where the immigrant narrative is very strong, that idea of settling in the United States inevitably affirms this American mythology of the American dream. So that even when immigrant stories talk about how difficult life in the United States might be because of racism or economic challenges and so on, nevertheless, the very existence of the immigrant story itself—the immigrant novel that we're reading—is evidence of the success of the immigrant story and the American dream. The refugee story introduces other elements that can unsettle the immigrant and American dream story. These elements include, most critically, the fact that many refugees that come to the United States have come because of something the United States has done in their country of origin. The refugee writers, simply by acknowledging that history, introduce some troubling elements into the American story. So the existence of Vietnamese refugee writers talking about Vietnamese refugees, acknowledging the history of the war in Vietnam, means that the Americans who read these books or anybody who reads these books has to at least acknowledge this war took place. Now, the problem is, where the refugee and immigrant narratives overlap is that many refugee writers still, in the end, even as they acknowledge the refugee origin, including American intervention, often end with settlement in the United States. So that in the end, the refugee story looks like an immigrant story. And that's why I think a lot of Vietnamese-American literature that deals more with refugees ends up focusing on what happened in the United States. Writing The Sympathizer, I did not want to do that. If I look at the way that American literature has dealt with the Vietnam War, it's bifurcated. It's mostly Americans who get to write about the war in Vietnam, and it's mostly the Vietnamese who write about the Vietnamese refugee experience in the United States. And when there are refugees who write about both parts, they write about their civilian experiences of the war in Vietnam and then the refugee resettlement. The Vietnamese soldiers who could write these war stories don't write in English. So typically their story is only available in Vietnamese. What that means is that Americans still get to define the war. And so The Sympathizer is unique, I think, in this landscape by refusing the immigrant story, using the refugee narrative to demonstrate these contradictions of American intervention, and directly confronting the actual war in Vietnam, in a way that Americans are not used to. So I think that's how the book is different, by deploying the refugee perspective. TM: In your opinion, what is the difference between writing a novel and writing a short story? Do you have to train different muscles for different genres? If so, how? VTN: I spent 20 years writing that short story collection The Refugees, and I think I exercised a lot of muscles, but maybe very different muscles and I never really coordinated everything together. So even now I could not explain to you what I'm doing in each of those stories and why I made the decisions that I did. It was, for the most part, a very intuitive process of trial and error in writing each story, which is very frustrating to me. Because I'm not a natural short story writer and I don't have very good understanding of the short story form, it took a very long time to write that book. But I was exercising muscles. So when it came time to write the novel, all of a sudden, it felt that I could put all these muscles together and work much more quickly, much more powerfully. And in the context of the novel, it felt much more natural. So it wasn't as though there was no connection between short stories and novels; it was that they exercise different physical/mental capacities that I had. And with the novel, I feel like I can explain almost every single decision that goes into the book, and I can explain almost anything about the book that you could ask me about. It took two and a half years to write that novel versus 20 years for The Refugees, even though The Sympathizer is more than twice as long. So I don't think I could have written The Sympathizer without having first written The Refugees. That being said, I would never want to go back to writing short stories and try to exercise those muscles again. TM: Do you read to exercise your muscles? VTN: Yeah. I tried to read books that personally move me both in terms of their story and concerns, but also how they move me at the level of a sentence. So unfortunately, I often pick up a book, I'll read the first sentence or first paragraph, and I will decide immediately if I'm going to continue reading. I have so little time; I cannot afford to waste time on a book that doesn't move me in every respect, but especially at the level of a sentence. Unfortunately, you know, in my life now, I have to read a lot of books that I would not necessarily pick up except that I'm reading books because I'm doing favors for other people and writing blurbs and things like that. But in terms of reading for my own work, I tried to find books that I think are going to teach me something about some kind of literary technique or political concern that I need to know. So with The Sympathizer, it was very important for me to have discovered, again, Louis-Ferdinand Celine’s Journey to the End of the Night or Antonio Lobo Antunes’s The Land at the End of the World, because both of those books were doing things at the level of the sentence and at the level of politics. And the whole novelistic forms were not typical. They were very inspiring for me. And then finally when I'm actually writing, I try to read poetry, because the rhythm, the use of images, the use of sound, and these kinds of things are very important for me, in terms of trying to construct sentences and deploying images that are almost as concentrated as what you would find in poetry. TM: I really enjoyed the introduction you wrote for The Displaced. You said something beautiful about memory. Your personal memory of displacement cultivates sympathy and empathy in you; remembering the best of humanity allows us to form an ideal that we can hope and work for. But others may go in the exact opposite direction for the same reason. Their past trauma teaches them to be self-centered to protect themselves; their recollections of the worst of humanity become the reason why we must close off our borders. Currently, the two groups cannot even have a conversation with each other. What’s your suggestion for a writer who aspires to speak to the latter group? VTN: To the ones whose minds and hearts are closed? I think it's very difficult because writers live and work oftentimes in environments and an entire marketplace that are different from the environments and marketplaces of people who are opposed to immigration and to refugees, for example. As writers, we like to believe that if we write an important story, the story will move people and change hearts and minds, because that's our background; we've been moved by stories. But the people who really need to have the hearts and minds moved are oftentimes the people who are not going to be reading what we write, either because they don't read literature or because they're reading different kinds of books. And I can tell, based on my own personal experience; because I can go on amazon.com and see on my author page where my books are being sold, they are sold mostly in the so-called blue parts of the country, the coasts and big cities. But there are huge swaths of America where the books are not sold, and that is oftentimes a rural or red America. So that means that authors—especially literary authors who are writing fiction and poetry and so on—we have to be realistic about what our writing can actually do. And we have to recognize that if we have a message that is not just an aesthetic message but also a political message, oftentimes we have to do different things to get that message out there, which is why I write op-eds. And I go give lectures in different parts of the country, because people who read my op-eds oftentimes are not people who are reading my books. And even in the context of the publications I write for, like The New York Times, Washington Post, or Time, they're certainly not leftist, and sometimes they're not even liberal. And so it is actually gratifying to see sometimes that people, like even childhood friends of mine who would not read my books, get Time. Or when I go give lectures, I have to go sometimes to very red parts of the country. And even if I'm giving these lectures in the blue parts of a red area, like a university, sometimes there will still be people who show up who are hostile to what it is I have to say. So they have to listen. And I have to acknowledge their presence. Sometimes I get some very difficult questions from people who come from a completely different perspective. So the work of changing hearts and minds is oftentimes not just at the level a book, but also at the level of personal interaction and going out there and having these kinds of conversations, trying to meet people where they're coming from. TM: How do you deal with hostility? VTN: I think that I'm still relatively fortunate, because I know that women and women of color, especially in particular, get the criticism much worse than I do. As for me, I still get hostility, but it's oftentimes restricted. You know, people will write me emails, they will send me letters that are very critical, but they're still polite. The worst I heard is “Go back to where you came from,” which is bad, but not that bad compared to what people may actually have said. Social media allows people to have much more direct confrontations; people will send me messages on Twitter, or Facebook, or through my personal website. And sometimes, rarely, the conversations will be face to face. So people have said things very critical to me in an audience. But again, that doesn't happen that often. And it's happened less since I won the Pulitzer Prize. And so I think there are all these layers of insulation that I have that other people, particularly women and women of color, may not. How do I deal with that? In a face-to-face moment, it's important to have those moments, to not back away from that and to have that conversation. I don't have a problem with that. And then with other kinds of written communication, sometimes I'll respond. And sometimes these conversations will have an immediate dead-end, because the other person is so angry that we can't have a conversation. But sometimes we exchange a few emails or communications, and we actually move forward a little bit in terms of understanding each other a little bit more. TM: That brings me to my next question. How has the Pulitzer Prize changed your life as a writer? Have the changes been good, bad, or both? VTN: Both. I mean, obviously I'm not complaining. There are negatives, challenges, but they're completely outweighed by the positives. And the negative is that there has been a huge imposition on my time. So I’m about a year and a half behind in delivering my novel to my publisher. If I were to quantify how much time the Pulitzer cost me, that's how much: a year and a half, because of giving lectures and responding to people and blurbing people's books and things like that. The positives are that I've earned a lot more money. Because of the Pulitzer Prize, there's no doubt about that. And that's afforded me more time to write, my audiences have grown. I went from having no foreign edition to 30 foreign editions of The Sympathizer, because of the Pulitzer. So it’s turned me into more of an international author. And it's given me the prestige and the opportunity to speak to audiences I would never get to speak to before, both in terms of lectures but also in terms of op-eds. So I think the Pulitzer has, in every way, transformed my status as a writer, and it's made me want to live up to that status, to use the Pulitzer for good and for other purposes. The final challenge of the Pulitzer power play is what people will say about the novel that I'm writing now. TM: I don’t want to get writers to talk about their ongoing projects. But in one of your previous interviews, you mentioned that you are working on a sequel to The Sympathizer. I only want to ask this question: What do you hope to achieve with this sequel? VTN: Well, I think I want to write a good novel. That's the most basic thing to do. And I want to write a novel that lives up to The Sympathizer, both in terms of its entertainment, but also its politics. And, let me set the expectations low and say, it won't probably be better than The Sympathizer, but I hope it was at least be good and can live up to the reputation of that first novel. But besides that, I think, going back to our earlier conversation about how I situate myself in terms of other bodies of literature and so on. Obviously, narrative scarcity, one of the problems for the so-called minority writer is that we get pigeonholed. We write a book that's ostensibly about “our experience,” in my case, being a Vietnamese refugee in the Vietnam War. And we're allowed by dominant culture to own that little piece of territory with the expectation that we won't break out. That's a trap. Because on the one hand, we want to break out; on the other hand, we don't want to feel as if somehow we can't write about what we just wrote about. I think about Philip Roth, arguably and possibly a minority writer, but definitely a majority writer. And no one now would ever say, “Oh, Philip Roth is only a Jewish writer, because he only wrote about Jewish experiences,” right? For me, the challenge is the same. That in the second novel, in the sequel, I'm still dealing with Vietnamese people, Vietnamese refugees and so on, which I'm not reluctant to do and I'm not apologetic about. But also, at the same time, I want to make the claim that just because I'm still writing about Vietnamese refugees and the consequences of the war, it doesn't mean that it's “only” about these things. In fact, we can write about these things, and yet they still are universally important. It’s up to me to prove that. But it's also up to me to challenge readers who would not be able to see that. [millions_email] TM: One last question: What are some of the habits that you think aspiring writers need to develop? VTN: There are so many, but I think if there’s only one, that is to write a lot. Some writers would say you have to write every day. I don't think that's true. But I do think it's true that you have to write a lot. No one ever became a writer by writing 100 hours. I think almost everybody has become a writer by literally thousands of hours. So however you choose to do it, you've got to do it. Whether it takes you five years or 10 years or 50 years. You can't be a writer unless you do that. And what goes along with writing a lot is enduring a lot. You have to endure rejection, obscurity, mockery, miscomprehension, apathy, that no one cares that you want to be a writer. And, in fact, life will constantly throw obstacles in your way. For me, one obstacle is I live in California, so to spend thousands of hours writing I have to sit in a room and not go outside and enjoy the sun. That may not be much of an issue in Iowa but it is here in California. So we endure and sacrifice a lot. So if you cannot write a lot, if you cannot endure, if you cannot sacrifice, then you should probably choose another passion. The interviewer would like to thank Alyssa Asquith and Philip Kurian for their generous and thoughtful contributions to the interview.

Harmful Stories Are on the Rise: The Millions Interviews Susan Choi

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Susan Choi is highly accomplished. She teaches at Yale University. Her first novel, The Foreign Student, won the Asian American Literary Award, while her second novel, American Woman, was named a finalist for the 2004 Pulitzer Prize. Her next work of fiction, A Person of Interest, was as finalist for the 2009 PEN/Faulkner Award, and most recently her novel My Education earned the Lambda Literary Award. Next month her children’s book, Camp Tiger, will be published, and this weekend a film adaptation of American Woman will premiere at the Tribeca Film Festival under the direction of Semi Chellas. Our focus, though, is on her newly released novel, Trust Exercise, which was one of the year’s most anticipated books. Trust Exercise follows Sarah and David, two teenagers in a high school dedicated to theater arts during the early 1980s. They fall for each other but are pulled in different directions by the drama of teenage life, both on and off the stage. As the story progresses, the reader must consider the power dynamics of storytelling and performance: who is granted a voice and who is seen as merely an object rather than a subject. It is a story that spans 30 years, an intricately crafted novel that asks important questions about power and identity. I recently caught up with Choi to talk about education, theater, the #MeToo movement, our distance from our teenage selves, and the writing process. The Millions: I wanted to start with the topic of education. In your previous books you’ve engaged with the educational sphere at the college level, but in Trust Exercise you’ve moved to high school. One of the things that I particularly enjoyed about your take on this age group is how you show the power of the heightened emotions of being a teenager. What made you shift your focus to this younger group? Susan Choi: For me these things are never premeditated. I write a lot of things that never make it out of my hard drive, and then, every once in a while, there’s something that I stick with. In this case, I think my preoccupation with all our past selves—all of us adults were teenagers once—predated my work on this book. In My Education I was preoccupied with the way in which the selves we were at earlier periods of adulthood might come to seem like strangers—incomprehensible and even kind of crazy—once we’ve aged a little more. In Trust Exercise that same preoccupation shifts back further in time. TM: Your writing about high school theater training really captures how this activity creates a space for forming identity and a sense of an artistic self. Why did you want to write about theater? SC: The tension between unleashing emotion and controlling emotion is really interesting to me. And theater is a context in which, it seems to me, that happens in particularly fascinating ways. And there’s a parallel there, to writing, which never occurred to me until later. TM: While this novel is treading its own path, I also see its connection to some of your earlier work. Let me give you one small example: Trust Exercise includes a scene that recalls one from American Woman. In both a young woman is identified merely by the texture of her jeans. What interests you in the reworking of themes and images over the course of your novels? SC: I don’t rework themes or images very often, and in this case I didn’t choose to do it so much as I just couldn’t resist recycling that idea. Once I’d done it, I fretted about people noticing it and indeed they have! I wish I hadn’t used it the first time around because I think it’s far more indispensable where it happens in Trust Exercise. But maybe we can view the previous iteration as a rehearsal? TM: I enjoy the historicity of your work, whether you are positioning your reader in the 1970s California of Patty Hearst or in the Korean War and its aftermath in The Foreign Student. What kind of research did you do for this book to create this world? What did you draw from your own experiences during the early 1980s? SC: I didn’t do research specifically to support this book because, unlike with the time periods of some of my other books, I have clear memories of the ’80s, just as I have clear memories of the ’90s setting for A Person of Interest. But I was, on a separate track, doing research into Scientology a handful of years ago, and that research ended up feeding into this book in very unexpected ways. With that research I was also thinking about charismatic leaders, and the sorts of rituals those leaders impose on their followers, to forge those followers into a compliant collective. TM: Interesting, what are some of the ways that you see Scientology connecting to Trust Exercise? SC: Some of the trust exercises—the repetitions for example—bear uncanny resemblance to Scientology practices, and it's my understanding that both derive from a common source, a type of actors' training. I found this intersection really striking, and it contributed a lot to my thinking about the world of the book, in which a charismatic leader uses specific rites and rituals to mold disparate and in some cases unruly individuals into a compliant cooperative group. [millions_ad] TM: My Education dealt with issues of sexual identity, and this book continues with some of those questions in its own way. Did you begin this book to address some of those continuing questions or were you thinking about more timely topics like #MeToo? SC: Honestly, I almost never begin a book to address questions. If I did, I don’t think I’d get very far. I begin books because certain situations, involving certain characters, interest me and I want to see what might happen. The questions that preoccupy me start exercising their influence right away, but I’m not particularly conscious of that process, any more than I’m particularly conscious of the way in which the questions that preoccupy me exercise their influence on all the choices I make in every aspect of my life. However, once this book was well underway it did become glaringly clear to me that its trajectory, and real-world events including #MeToo, were intersecting in really interesting ways. TM: Yes, in my reading, I certainly thought about #MeToo issues and the related questions of consent and power. Are there any particular ways that you see the novel reflecting these issues? SC: Karen in particular is a character struggling to make sense of a past experience for which she blames herself, for making an ultimately damaging choice, and blames the other party involved, for taking advantage of her inexperience and credulousness. What happened to her has happened to countless women who, if they heard her story, would echo the refrain of “me too” that gives the movement its name—but the very fact of the experience being so widely shared only makes Karen harder on herself. She isn't able to resolve the contradiction between self-blame and righteous accusation, and she isn't able to ally herself with other women in similar circumstances. Her problem is both eternal and—because recently the cultural conversation is finally echoing all our private conversations—timely. TM: This book is very much attentive to its structure. Through its three major sections, readers must resituate themselves in relationship to the narrative and their confidence in their perception of it. At what point in the development of this project did the structure come to you? SC: The structure of the book really evolved out of the writing process, the way most of my books’ structures do. I never sat down and thought, I want to write a book with this particular structure. Structural aspects presented themselves along the way as solutions to problems that had arisen in the course of the writing. That’s how it always happens, for me. I never outline in advance and most of the time I have no idea, in advance, how something is going to end. It’s possibly a very disorganized way to write, but I find it more generative and interesting than planning everything ahead—not that I’m even able to do that. TM: Earlier you mentioned one of the acting exercises I wanted to talk about because it creates quite a memorable scene. In it, two students repeat the same phrase to each other while trying to alter the meaning of the words through emphasis and delivery. This moment encapsulates the work’s interest in point of view, shifting context, and the change of a person from subject to object. What were your thoughts about perspective in this book? SC: I’ve always thought a lot about point of view or perspective with all my books, but usually in pretty narrow terms that have to do with the book itself and what perspective will solve the most problems, what perspective will best convey character and give me what I need to communicate information and so on. It’s often a mess; with My Education I wrote a lot of the book in the omniscient third person and it just didn’t feel right so I rewrote it in the first person and again, it didn’t feel right, so I had to rewrite that first person voice from a specific point in time that was more retrospective…there was lots of trial and error. With this book I had all the same craft-centric thoughts about what perspective would work best, but it’s true that I was also thinking a lot more about the role of storytelling in our lives and not just in the books we read.  Our culture and our politics are all stories, often contending stories, often harmful stories—and harmful stories are on the rise right now, it seems to me. So, I was thinking a lot about who gets to tell these stories, and who gets told about, and all the harm that can be done.