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Most Anticipated: The Great Winter 2025 Preview
It's cold, it's grey, its bleakâbut winter, at the very least, brings with it a glut of anticipation-inducing books. Here youâll find nearly 100 titles that weâre excited to cozy up with this season. Some weâve already read in galley form; others weâre simply eager to devour based on their authors, subjects, or blurbs. We'd love for you to find your next great read among them.Â
The Millions will be taking a hiatus for the next few months, but we hope to see you soon.Â
âSophia Stewart, editor
January
The Legend of Kumai by Shirato Sanpei, tr. Richard Rubinger (Drawn & Quarterly)
The epic 10-volume series, a touchstone of longform storytelling in manga now published in English for the first time, follows outsider Kamui in 17th-century Japan as he fights his way up from peasantry to the prized role of ninja. âMichael J. Seidlinger
The Life of Herod the Great by Zora Neale Hurston (Amistad)
In the years before her death in 1960, Hurston was at work on what she envisioned as a continuation of her 1939 novel, Moses, Man of the Mountain. Incomplete, nearly lost to fire, and now published for the first time alongside scholarship from editor Deborah G. Plant, Hurstonâs final manuscript reimagines Herod, villain of the New Testament Gospel accounts, as a magnanimous and beloved leader of First Century Judea. âJonathan Frey
Mood Machine by Liz Pelly (Atria)
When you eagerly posted your Spotify Wrapped last year, did you notice how much of what you listened to tended to sound... the same? Have you seen all those links to Bandcamp pages your musician friends keep desperately posting in the hopes that maybe, just maybe, you might give them money for their art? If so, this book is for you. âJohn H. Maher
My Country, Africa by Andrée Blouin (Verso)
African revolutionary Blouin recounts a radical life steeped in activism in this vital autobiography, from her beginnings in a colonial orphanage to her essential role in the continent's midcentury struggles for decolonization. âSophia M. Stewart
The First and Last King of Haiti by Marlene L. Daut (Knopf)
Donald Trump repeatedly directs extraordinary animus towards Haiti and Haitians. This biography of Henry Christopheâthe man who played a pivotal role in the Haitian Revolutionâmight help Americans understand why. âClaire Kirch
The Bewitched Bourgeois by Dino Buzzati, tr. Lawrence Venuti (NYRB)
This is the second story collection, and fifth book, by the absurdist-leaning midcentury Italian writerâwhose primary preoccupation was war novels that blend the brutal with the fantasticalâto get the NYRB treatment. May it not be the last. âJHM
Y2K by Colette Shade (Dey Street)
The recent Y2K revival mostly makes me feel old, but Shade's essay collection deftly illuminates how we got here, connecting the era's social and political upheavals to today. âSMS
Darkmotherland by Samrat Upadhyay (Penguin)
In a vast dystopian reimagining of Nepal, Upadhyay braids narratives of resistance (political, personal) and identity (individual, societal) against a backdrop of natural disaster and state violence. The first book in nearly a decade from the Whiting Awardâwinning author of Arresting God in Kathmandu, this is Upadhyayâs most ambitious yet. âJF
Metamorphosis by Ross Jeffery (Truborn)
From the author of I Died Too, But They Havenât Buried Me Yet, a woman leads a double life as she loses her grip on reality by choice, wearing a mask that reflects her inner demons, as she descends into a hell designed to reveal the innermost depths of her grief-stricken psyche. âMJS
The Containment by Michelle Adams (FSG)
Legal scholar Adams charts the failure of desegregation in the American North through the story of the struggle to integrate suburban schools in Detroit, which remained almost completely segregated nearly two decades after Brown v. Board. âSMS
Death of the Author by Nnedi Okorafor (Morrow)
African Futurist Okoraforâs book-within-a-book offers interchangeable cover images, one for the story of a disabled, Black visionary in a near-present day and the other for the lead characterâs speculative posthuman novel, Rusted Robots. Okorafor deftly keeps the alternating chapters and timelines in conversation with one another. âNathalie op de Beeck
Open Socrates by Agnes Callard (Norton)
Practically everything Agnes Callard says or writes ushers in a capital-D Discourse. (Remember that profile?) If she can do the same with a study of the philosophical worldâs original gadfly, culture will be better off for it. âJHM
Aflame by Pico Iyer (Riverhead)
Presumably he finds time to eat and sleep in there somewhere, but it certainly appears as if Iyer does nothing but travel and write. His latest, following 2023âs The Half Known Life, makes a case for the sublimity, and necessity, of silent reflection. âJHM
The In-Between Bookstore by Edward Underhill (Avon)
A local bookstore becomes a literal portal to the past for a trans man who returns to his hometown in search of a fresh start in Underhill's tender debut. âSMS
Good Girl by Aria Aber (Hogarth)
Aber, an accomplished poet, turns to prose with a debut novel set in the electric excess of Berlinâs bohemian nightlife scene, where a young German-born Afghan woman finds herself enthralled by an expat American novelist as her countryâand, soon, her communityâis enflamed by xenophobia. âJHM
The Orange Eats Creeps by Grace Krilanovich (Two Dollar Radio)
Krilanovichâs 2010 cult classic, about a runaway teen with drug-fueled ESP who searches for her missing sister across surreal highways while being chased by a killer named Dactyl, gets a much-deserved reissue. âMJS
Mona Acts Out by Mischa Berlinski (Liveright)
In the latest novel from the National Book Award finalist, a 50-something actress reevaluates her life and career when #MeToo allegations roil the off-off-Broadway Shakespearean company that has cast her in the role of Cleopatra. âSMS
Something Rotten by Andrew Lipstein (FSG)
A burnt-out couple leave New York City for what they hope will be a blissful summer in Denmark when their vacation derails after a close friend is diagnosed with a rare illness and their marriage is tested by toxic influences. âMJS
The Sun Won't Come Out Tomorrow by Kristen Martin (Bold Type)
Martin's debut is a cultural history of orphanhood in America, from the 1800s to today, interweaving personal narrative and archival research to upend the traditional "orphan narrative," from Oliver Twist to Annie. âSMS
We Do Not Part by Han Kang, tr. E. Yaewon and Paige Aniyah Morris (Hogarth)
Kangâs Nobel win last year surprised many, but the consistency of her talent certainly shouldn't now. The latest from the author of The Vegetarianâthe haunting tale of a Korean woman who sets off to save her injured friendâs pet at her home in Jeju Island during a deadly snowstormâwill likely once again confront the horrors of history with clear eyes and clarion prose. âJHM
We Are Dreams in the Eternal Machine by Deni Ellis BĂ©chard (Milkweed)
As the conversation around emerging technology skews increasingly to apocalyptic and utopian extremes, BĂ©chardâs latest novel adopts the heterodox-to-everyone approach of embracing complexity. Here, a cadre of characters is isolated by a rogue but benevolent AI into controlled environments engineered to achieve their individual flourishing. The AI may have taken over, but it only wants to best for us. âJF
The Harder I Fight the More I Love You by Neko Case (Grand Central)
Singer-songwriter Case, a country- and folk-inflected indie rocker and sometime vocalist for the New Pornographers, takes her memoirâs title from her 2013 solo album. Followers of PNW music scene chronicles like Kathleen Hannaâs Rebel Girl and drummer Steve Moriartyâs Mia Zapata and the Gits will consider Caseâs backstory a must-read. âNodB
The Loves of My Life by Edmund White (Bloomsbury)
The 85-year-old White recounts six decades of love and sex in this candid and erotic memoir, crafting a landmark work of queer history in the process. Seminal indeed. âSMS
Blob by Maggie Su (Harper)
In Suâs hilarious debut, Vi Liu is a college dropout working a job she hates, nothing really working out in her life, when she stumbles across a sentient blob that she begins to transform as her ideal, perfect man that just might resemble actor Ryan Gosling. âMJS
Sinkhole and Other Inexplicable Voids by Leyna Krow (Penguin)
Krowâs debut novel, Fire Season, traced the combustible destinies of three Northwest tricksters in the aftermath of an 1889 wildfire. In her second collection of short fiction, Krow amplifies surreal elements as she tells stories of ordinary lives. Her characters grapple with deadly viruses, climate change, and disasters of the Anthropoceneâs wilderness. âNodB
Black in Blues by Imani Perry (Ecco)
The National Book Award winnerâand one of today's most important thinkersâreturns with a masterful meditation on the color blue and its role in Black history and culture. âSMS
Too Soon by Betty Shamieh (Avid)
The timely debut novel by Shamieh, a playwright, follows three generations of Palestinian American women as they navigate war, migration, motherhood, and creative ambition. âSMS
How to Talk About Love by Plato, tr. Armand D'Angour (Princeton UP)
With modern romance on its last legs, D'Angour revisits Plato's Symposium, mining the philosopher's masterwork for timeless, indispensable insights into love, sex, and attraction. âSMS
At Dark, I Become Loathsome by Eric LaRocca (Blackstone)
After Ashley Lutinâs wife dies, he takes the grieving process in a peculiar way, posting online, âIf you're reading this, you've likely thought that the world would be a better place without you,â and proceeds to offer a strange ritual for those that respond to the line, equally grieving and lost, in need of transcendence. âMJS
February
No One Knows by Osamu Dazai, tr. Ralph McCarthy (New Directions)
A selection of stories translated in English for the first time, from across Dazaiâs career, demonstrates his penchant for exploring conformity and societyâs often impossible expectations of its members. âMJS
Mutual Interest by Olivia Wolfgang-Smith (Bloomsbury)
This queer love story set in postâGilded Age New York, from the author of Glassworks (and one of my favorite Millions essays to date), explores on sex, power, and capitalism through the lives of three queer misfits. âSMS
Pure, Innocent Fun by Ira Madison III (Random House)
This podcaster and pop culture critic spoke to indie booksellers at a fall trade show I attended, regaling us with key cultural moments in the 1990s that shaped his youth in Milwaukee and being Black and gay. If the book is as clever and witty as Madison is, it's going to be a winner. âCK
Gliff by Ali Smith (Pantheon)
The Scottish author has been on the scene since 1997 but is best known today for a seasonal quartet from the late twenty-teens that began in 2016 with Autumn and ended in 2020 with Summer. Here, she takes the genre turn, setting two children and a horse loose in an authoritarian near future. âJHM
Land of Mirrors by Maria Medem, tr. Aleshia Jensen and Daniela Ortiz (D&Q)
This hypnotic graphic novel from one of Spain's most celebrated illustrators follows Antonia, the sole inhabitant of a deserted town, on a color-drenched quest to preserve the dying flower that gives her purpose. âSMS
Bibliophobia by Sarah Chihaya (Random House)
As odes to the "lifesaving power of books" proliferate amid growing literary censorship, Chihayaâa brilliant critic and writerâcomplicates this platitude in her revelatory memoir about living through books and the power of reading to, in the words of blurber Namwali Serpell, "wreck and redeem our lives." âSMS
Reading the Waves by Lidia Yuknavitch (Riverhead)
Yuknavitch continues the personal story she began in her 2011 memoir, The Chronology of Water. More than a decade after that book, and nearly undone by a history of trauma and the death of her daughter, Yuknavitch revisits the solace she finds in swimming (she was once an Olympic hopeful) and in her literary community. âNodB
The Dissenters by Youssef Rakha (Graywolf)
A son reevaluates the life of his Egyptian mother after her death in Rakha's novel. Recounting her sprawling life storyâfrom her youth in 1960s Cairo to her experience of the 2011 Tahrir Square protestsâa vivid portrait of faith, feminism, and contemporary Egypt emerges. âSMS
Tetra Nova by Sophia Terazawa (Deep Vellum)
Deep Vellum has a particularly keen eye for fiction in translation that borders on the unclassifiable. This debut from a poet the press has published twice, billed as the story of âan obscure Roman goddess who re-imagines herself as an assassin coming to terms with an emerging performance artist identity in the late-20th century,â seems right up that alley. âJHM
David Lynch's American Dreamscape by Mike Miley (Bloomsbury)
Miley puts David Lynch's films in conversation with literature and music, forging thrilling and unexpected connectionsâbetween Eraserhead and "The Yellow Wallpaper," Inland Empire and "mixtape aesthetics," Lynch and the work of Cormac McCarthy. Lynch devotees should run, not walk. âSMS
There's No Turning Back by Alba de CĂ©spedes, tr. Ann Goldstein (Washington Square)
Goldstein is an indomitable translator. Without her, how would you read Ferrante? Here, she takes her pen to a work by the great Cuban-Italian writer de CĂ©spedes, banned in the fascist Italy of the 1930s, that follows a group of female literature students living together in a Roman boarding house. âJHM
Beta Vulgaris by Margie Sarsfield (Norton)
Named for the humble beet plant and meaning, in a rough translation from the Latin, "vulgar second," Sarsfieldâs surreal debut finds a seasonal harvest worker watching her boyfriend and other colleagues vanish amid âthe menacing but enticing siren song of the beets.â âJHM
People From Oetimu by Felix Nesi, tr. Lara Norgaard (Archipelago)
The center of Nesiâs wide-ranging debut novel is a police station on the border between East and West Timor, where a group of men have gathered to watch the final of the 1998 World Cup while a political insurgency stirs without. Nesi, in English translation here for the first time, circles this moment broadly, reaching back to the various colonialist projects that have shaped Timor and the lives of his characters. âJF
Brother Brontë by Fernando A. Flores (MCD)
This surreal tale, set in a 2038 dystopian Texas is a celebration of resistance to authoritarianism, a mash-up of Olivia Butler, Ray Bradbury, and John Steinbeck. âCK
Alligator Tears by Edgar Gomez (Crown)
The High-Risk Homosexual author returns with a comic memoir-in-essays about fighting for survival in the Sunshine State, exploring his struggle with poverty through the lens of his queer, Latinx identity. âSMS
Theory & Practice by Michelle De Kretser (Catapult)
This lightly autofictional novelâDe Krester's best yet, and one of my favorite books of this yearâcenters on a grad student's intellectual awakening, messy romantic entanglements, and fraught relationship with her mother as she minds the gap between studying feminist theory and living a feminist life. âSMS
The Lamb by Lucy Rose (Harper)
Roseâs cautionary and caustic folk tale is about a mother and daughter who live alone in the forest, quiet and tranquil except for the visitors the mother brings home, whom she calls âstrays,â wining and dining them until they feast upon the bodies. âMJS
Disposable by Sarah Jones (Avid)
Jones, a senior writer for New York magazine, gives a voice to America's most vulnerable citizens, who were deeply and disproportionately harmed by the pandemicâa catastrophe that exposed the nation's disregard, if not outright contempt, for its underclass. âSMS
No Fault by Haley Mlotek (Viking)
Written in the aftermath of the author's divorce from the man she had been with for 12 years, this "Memoir of Romance and Divorce," per its subtitle, is a wise and distinctly modern accounting of the end of a marriage, and what it means on a personal, social, and literary level. âSMS
Enemy Feminisms by Sophie Lewis (Haymarket)
Lewis, one of the most interesting and provocative scholars working today, looks at certain malignant strains of feminism that have done more harm than good in her latest book. In the process, she probes the complexities of gender equality and offers an alternative vision of a feminist future. âSMS
Lion by Sonya Walger (NYRB)
Walgerâan successful actor perhaps best known for her turn as Penny Widmore on Lostâdebuts with a remarkably deft autobiographical novel (published by NYRB no less!) about her relationship with her complicated, charismatic Argentinian father. âSMS
The Voices of Adriana by Elvira Navarro, tr. Christina MacSweeney (Two Lines)
A Spanish writer and philosophy scholar grieves her mother and cares for her sick father in Navarro's innovative, metafictional novel. âSMS
Autotheories ed. Alex Brostoff and Vilashini Cooppan (MIT)
Theory wonks will love this rigorous and surprisingly playful survey of the genre of autotheoryâwhich straddles autobiography and critical theoryâwith contributions from Judith Butler, Jamieson Webster, and more.
Fagin the Thief by Allison Epstein (Doubleday)
I enjoy retellings of classic novels by writers who turn the spotlight on interesting minor characters. This is an excursion into the world of Charles Dickens, told from the perspective iconic thief from Oliver Twist. âCK
Crush by Ada Calhoun (Viking)
Calhounâthe masterful memoirist behind the excellent Also A Poetâmakes her first foray into fiction with a debut novel about marriage, sex, heartbreak, all-consuming desire. âSMS
Show Don't Tell by Curtis Sittenfeld (Random House)
Sittenfeld's observations in her writing are always clever, and this second collection of short fiction includes a tale about the main character in Prep, who visits her boarding school decades later for an alumni reunion. âCK
Right-Wing Woman by Andrea Dworkin (Picador)
One in a trio of Dworkin titles being reissued by Picador, this 1983 meditation on women and American conservatism strikes a troublingly resonant chord in the shadow of the recent election, which saw 45% of women vote for Trump. âSMS
The Talent by Daniel D'Addario (Scout)
If your favorite season is awards, the debut novel from D'Addario, chief correspondent at Variety, weaves an awards-season yarn centering on five stars competing for the Best Actress statue at the Oscars. If you know who Paloma Diamond is, you'll love this. âSMS
Death Takes Me by Cristina Rivera Garza, tr. Sarah Booker and Robin Myers (Hogarth)
The Pulitzer winnerâs latest is about an eponymously named professor who discovers the body of a mutilated man with a bizarre poem left with the body, becoming entwined in the subsequent investigation as more bodies are found. âMJS
The Strange Case of Jane O. by Karen Thompson Walker (Random House)
Jane goes missing after a sudden a debilitating and dreadful wave of symptoms that include hallucinations, amnesia, and premonitions, calling into question the foundations of her life and reality, motherhood and buried trauma. âMJS
Song So Wild and Blue by Paul Lisicky (HarperOne)
If it werenât Joni Mitchellâs world with all of us just living in it, one might be tempted to say the octagenarian master songstress is having a moment: this memoir of falling for the blue beauty of Mitchellâs work follows two other inventive books about her life and legacy: Ann Powers's Traveling and Henry Alford's I Dream of Joni. âJHM
Mornings Without Mii by Mayumi Inaba, tr. Ginny Tapley (FSG)
A woman writer meditates on solitude, art, and independence alongside her beloved cat in Inaba's modern classicâa book so squarely up my alley I'm somehow embarrassed. âSMS
True Failure by Alex Higley (Coffee House)
When Ben loses his job, he decides to pretend to go to work while instead auditioning for Big Shot, a popular reality TV show that he believes might be a launchpad for his future successes. âMJS
March
Woodworking by Emily St. James (Crooked Reads)
Those of us who have been reading St. James since the A.V. Club days may be surprised to see this marvelous critic's first novelâin this case, about a trans high school teacher befriending one of her students, the only fellow trans woman sheâs ever metâbut all the more excited for it. âJHM
Optional Practical Training by Shubha Sunder (Graywolf)
Told as a series of conversations, Sunderâs debut novel follows its recently graduated Indian protagonist in 2006 Cambridge, Mass., as she sees out her student visa teaching in a private high school and contriving to find her way between worlds that cannot seem to comprehend her. Quietly subversive, this is an immigration narrative to undermine the various reductionist immigration narratives of our moment. âJF
Love, Queenie by Mayukh Sen (Norton)
Merle Oberon, one of Hollywood's first South Asian movie stars, gets her due in this engrossing biography, which masterfully explores Oberon's painful upbringing, complicated racial identity, and much more. âSMS
The Age of Choice by Sophia Rosenfeld (Princeton UP)
At a time when we are awash with optionsâindeed, drowning in themâRosenfeld's analysis of how our modingn idea of "freedom" became bound up in the idea of personal choice feels especially timely, touching on everything from politics to romance. âSMS
Sucker Punch by Scaachi Koul (St. Martin's)
One of the internet's funniest writers follows up One Day We'll All Be Dead and None of This Will Matter with a sharp and candid collection of essays that sees her life go into a tailspin during the pandemic, forcing her to reevaluate her beliefs about love, marriage, and what's really worth fighting for. âSMS
The Mysterious Disappearance of the Marquise of Loria by José Donoso, tr. Megan McDowell (New Directions)
The ever-excellent McDowell translates yet another work by the influential Chilean author for New Directions, proving once again that Donoso had a knack for titles: this one follows up 2024âs behemoth The Obscene Bird of Night. âJHM
Remember This by Anthony Giardina (FSG)
On its face, itâs another book about a writer living in Brooklyn. A layer deeper, itâs a book about fathers and daughters, occupations and vocations, ethos and pathos, failure and success. âJHM
Ultramarine by Mariette Navarro (Deep Vellum)Â
In this metaphysical and lyrical tale, a captain known for sticking to protocol begins losing control not only of her crew and ship but also her own mind. âMJS
We Tell Ourselves Stories by Alissa Wilkinson (Liveright)
Amid a spate of new books about Joan Didion published since her death in 2021, this entry by Wilkinson (one of my favorite critics working today) stands out for its approach, which centers Hollywoodâand its meaning-making apparatusâas an essential key to understanding Didion's life and work. âSMS
Seven Social Movements that Changed America by Linda Gordon (Norton)
This bookâby a truly renowned historianâabout the power that ordinary citizens can wield when they organize to make their community a better place for all could not come at a better time. âCK
Mothers and Other Fictional Characters by Nicole Graev Lipson (Chronicle Prism)
Lipson reconsiders the narratives of womanhood that constrain our lives and imaginations, mining the canon for alternative visions of desire, motherhood, and moreâfrom Kate Chopin and Gwendolyn Brooks to Philip Roth and Shakespeareâto forge a new story for her life. âSMS
Goddess Complex by Sanjena Sathian (Penguin)
DoppelgĂ€ngers have been done to death, but Sathian's examination of Millennial womanhoodâpart biting satire, part twisty thrillerâbreathes new life into the trope while probing the modern realities of procreation, pregnancy, and parenting. âSMS
Stag Dance by Torrey Peters (Random House)
The author of Detransition, Baby offers four tales for the price of one: a novel and three stories that promise to put gender in the crosshairs with as sharp a style and swagger as Petersâ beloved latest. The novel even has crossdressing lumberjacks. âJHM
On Breathing by Jamieson Webster (Catapult)
Webster, a practicing psychoanalyst and a brilliant writer to boot, explores that most basic human functionâbreathingâto address questions of care and interdependence in an age of catastrophe. âSMS
Unusual Fragments: Japanese Stories (Two Lines)
The stories of Unusual Fragments, including work by Yoshida Tomoko, Nobuko Takai, and other seldom translated writers from the same ranks as Abe and Dazai, comb through themes like alienation and loneliness, from a storm chaser entering the eye of a storm to a medical student observing a body as it is contorted into increasingly violent positions. âMJS
The Antidote by Karen Russell (Knopf)
Russell has quipped that this Dust Bowl story of uncanny happenings in Nebraska is the âdrylandiaâ to her 2011 Florida novel, Swamplandia! In this suspenseful account, a woman working as a so-called prairie witch serves as a storage vault for her townspeopleâs most troubled memories of migration and Indigenous genocide. With a murderer on the loose, a corrupt sheriff handling the investigation, and a Black New Deal photographer passing through to document Americana, the witch loses her memory and supernatural events parallel the areaâs lethal dust storms. âNodB
On the Clock by Claire Baglin, tr. Jordan Stump (New Directions)
Baglin's bildungsroman, translated from the French, probes the indignities of poverty and service work from the vantage point of its 20-year-old narrator, who works at a fast-food joint and recalls memories of her working-class upbringing. âSMS
Motherdom by Alex Bollen (Verso)
Parenting is difficult enough without dealing with myths of what it means to be a good mother. I who often felt like a failure as a mother appreciate Bollen's focus on a more realistic approach to parenting. âCK
The Magic Books by Anne Lawrence-Mathers (Yale UP)
For that friend who wants to concoct the alchemical elixir of life, or the person who cannot quit Susanna Clarkâs Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell, Lawrence-Mathers collects 20 illuminated medieval manuscripts devoted to magical enterprise. Her compendium includes European volumes on astronomy, magical training, and the imagined intersection between science and the supernatural. âNodB
Theft by Abdulrazak Gurnah (Riverhead)
The first novel by the Tanzanian-British Nobel laureate since his surprise win in 2021 is a story of class, seismic cultural change, and three young people in a small Tanzania town, caught up in both as their lives dramatically intertwine. âJHM
Twelve Stories by American Women, ed. Arielle Zibrak (Penguin Classics)
Zibrak, author of a delicious volume on guilty pleasures (and a great essay here at The Millions), curates a dozen short stories by women writers who have long been left out of American literary canonâmost of them women of colorâfrom Frances Ellen Watkins Harper to Zitkala-Ć a. âSMS
I'll Love You Forever by Giaae Kwon (Holt)
K-popâs sky-high place in the fandom landscape made a serious critical assessment inevitable. This one blends cultural criticism with memoir, using major artists and their careers as a lens through which to view the contemporary Korean sociocultural landscape writ large. âJHM
The Buffalo Hunter Hunter by Stephen Graham Jones (Saga)
Jones, the acclaimed author of The Only Good Indians and the Indian Lake Trilogy, offers a unique tale of historical horror, a revenge tale about a vampire descending upon the Blackfeet reservation and the manifold of carnage in their midst. âMJS
True Mistakes by Lena Moses-Schmitt (University of Arkansas Press)
Full disclosure: Lena is my friend. But part of why I wanted to be her friend in the first place is because she is a brilliant poet. Selected by Patricia Smith as a finalist for the Miller Williams Poetry Prize, and blurbed by the great Heather Christle and Elisa Gabbert, this debut collection seeks to turn "mistakes" into sites of possibility. âSMS
Perfection by Vicenzo Latronico, tr. Sophie Hughes (NYRB)
Anna and Tom are expats living in Berlin enjoying their freedom as digital nomads, cultivating their passion for capturing perfect images, but after both friends and time itself moves on, their own pocket of creative freedom turns boredom, their life trajectories cast in doubt. âMJS
Guatemalan Rhapsody by Jared Lemus (Ecco)
Jemus's debut story collection paint a composite portrait of the people who call Guatemala homeâand those who have left it behindâwith a cast of characters that includes a medicine man, a custodian at an underfunded college, wannabe tattoo artists, four orphaned brothers, and many more.
Pacific Circuit by Alexis Madrigal (MCD)
The Oakland, Calif.âbased contributing writer for the Atlantic digs deep into the recent history of a city long under-appreciated and under-served that has undergone head-turning changes throughout the rise of Silicon Valley. âJHM
Barbara by Joni Murphy (Astra)
Described as "Oppenheimer by way of Lucia Berlin," Murphy's character study follows the titular starlet as she navigates the twinned convulsions of Hollywood and history in the Atomic Age.
Sister Sinner by Claire Hoffman (FSG)
This biography of the fascinating Aimee Semple McPherson, America's most famous evangelist, takes religion, fame, and power as its subjects alongside McPherson, whose life was suffused with mystery and scandal. âSMS
Trauma Plot by Jamie Hood (Pantheon)
In this bold and layered memoir, Hood confronts three decades of sexual violence and searches for truth among the wreckage. Kate Zambreno calls Trauma Plot the work of "an American Annie Ernaux." âSMS
Hey You Assholes by Kyle Seibel (Clash)
Seibelâs debut story collection ranges widely from the down-and-out to the downright bizarre as he examines with heart and empathy the strife and struggle of his characters. âMJS
James Baldwin by Magdalena J. Zaborowska (Yale UP)
Zaborowska examines Baldwin's unpublished papers and his material legacy (e.g. his home in France) to probe about the great writer's life and work, as well as the emergence of the "Black queer humanism" that Baldwin espoused. âCK
Stop Me If You've Heard This One by Kristen Arnett (Riverhead)
Arnett is always brilliant and this novel about the relationship between Cherry, a professional clown, and her magician mentor, "Margot the Magnificent," provides a fascinating glimpse of the unconventional lives of performance artists. âCK
Paradise Logic by Sophie Kemp (S&S)
The deal announcement describes the ever-punchy writerâs debut novel with an infinitely appealing appellation: âdebauched picaresque.â If thatâs not enough to draw you in, the truly unhinged cover should be. âJHM
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A Year in Reading: 2024
Welcome to the 20th (!) installment of The Millions' annual Year in Reading series, which gathers together some of today's most exciting writers and thinkers to share the books that shaped their year. YIR is not a collection of yearend best-of lists; think of it, perhaps, as an assemblage of annotated bibliographies. We've invited contributors to reflect on the books they read this yearâan intentionally vague promptâand 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 âeating a six-pack of paper towels.â (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 Tulathimutteâs 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 Hammadâs 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 YIRâand witnessing the joy it brings contributors and readers alikeâhas been the highlight of my tenure as editor. Iâm profoundly grateful for the generosity of this yearâs 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 Millionsâ free newsletter to get the weekâs entries sent straight to your inbox each Friday.
âSophia 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
AyĆegĂŒl SavaĆ, 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 ParĂs, author of Planes Flying Over a Monster
Lili Anolik, author of Didion and Babitz
Deborah Ghim, editor
Emily Witt, author of Health and Safety
Nathan Thrall, author of A Day in the Life of Abed Salama
Lena Moses-Schmitt, author of True Mistakes
Jeremy Gordon, author of See Friendship
John Lee Clark, author of Touch the Future
Ellen Wayland-Smith, author of The Science of Last Things
Edwin Frank, publisher and author of Stranger Than Fiction
Sophia Stewart, editor of The Millions
A Year in Reading Archives: 2023, 2022, 2021, 2020, 2019, 2018, 2017, 2016, 2015, 2014, 2013,  2011, 2010, 2009, 2008, 2007, 2006, 2005
Alliterationâs Apt and Artful Aim
âIt used to be a piece of good advice to all young writers to avoid alliteration; and the advice was sound, in as much as it prevented daubing. None the less for that, was it abominable nonsense, and the mere raving of those blindest of the blind who will not see. The beauty of the contents of a phrase, or of a sentence, depends implicitly upon alliteration.â
âRobert Louis Stevenson, âOn Some Technical Elements of Style in Literatureâ (1905)
When the first English poetry was given by the gift and grace of God it was imparted to an illiterate shepherd named CĂŠdmon and the register that it was received and was alliterative. In the seventh century, the English, as they had yet to be called, may have had Christianity, but they did not yet have poetry. Pope Gregory I, having seen a group of them sold as slaves in the markets of Rome, had said âThey are not Angles, but angels,â and yet these seraphim did not sing (yet). There among his sheep at the Abbey of Whitby in the rolling Northumbrian countryside, CĂŠdmon served a clergy whose prayers were in a vernacular not their own, among a people of no letters. A lay brother, CĂŠdmon feasted and drank with his fellow monks one evening when they all took to reciting verse from memory (as one does), playing their harps as King David had in the manner of the bards of the Britons, the scops of the Saxons, the Makers of songâfor long before poetry was written it should be plucked and sung.
In his Ecclesiastical History of the English People, St. Bede described how the monks were âsometimes at entertainmentsâ and that it was âagreed for the sake of mirth that all present should sing in their turn.â But in a scene whose face-burning embarrassment still resonates a millennium-and-a-half later, Bede explained that when CĂŠdmon âsaw the instrument come towards him, he rose up from the table and returned home.â Pity the simple monk whom Alasdair Gray in The Book of Prefaces described as a âlocal herdsman [who] wanted to be a poet though he had not composed anything.â An original composition would wait for that night. CĂŠdmon went to sleep among his mute animals, but in the morning he arose with the fiery tongue of an angel. Bede records that in those nocturnal reveries âsomeoneâ came to CĂŠdmon asking the herdsman to sing of âthe beginning of created things.â Like his older contemporary, the prophet Muhammad, some angelic visitor had brought to CĂŠdmon the exquisite perfection of words, and with a commission most appropriateâto create English verse on the topic of creation itself. When CĂŠdmon awoke, he was possessed with the consonantal bursts of a hot, orange iron bar being hammered against a glowing, sparkly anvil; the sounds in his head were the characteristic alliteration of his native English.
That bright night in a dark age, what was delivered unto the shepherd were the first words of English poetry: âNĆ« scylun hergan hefaenrÄ«caes Uard, / metudĂŠs maecti end his mĆdgidanc, /uerc Uuldurfadur, suÄ hÄ uundra gihwaes, / Äci dryctin Ćr ÄstelidĂŠ / hÄ ÇŁrist scĆp aelda barnum / heben til hrĆfe, hÄleg scepen,â and so on and so forth. The other monks brought CĂŠdmon to the wise abbess St. Hilda, who declared this delivery a miracle (preserved only in 19 extant manuscripts). Gray described this genesis of English literature: A herdsman sang in a âNorthumbrian dialect of Anglo-Saxonâ to an amanuensis âwho got learning from the Irish Scots,â his narrative being a âJewish creation story transmitted to him through at least three other languages by a Graeco-Roman-Celtic-Christian churchâ with verse forms âlearned from pagan German warrior chants.â The migrations of peoples and stories would, as with all languages, contribute to the individual aural soul of English, so that the result was an Anglo-Saxon literature that sounded like wind blowing in over the whale-road of the North Sea, reminding us that âAlliteration is part of the sound stratum of poetry. It predates rhyme and takes us back to the oldest English and Celtic poetries,â as Edward Hirsch writes in A Poetâs Glossary.
Read that bit of quoted verse from CĂŠdmon aloud and it might not sound much like English to you, the modern translation roughly reading as âNow [we] must honor the guardian of heaven, / the might of the architect, and his purpose, / the work of the father of glory / as he, the eternal lord, established the beginning of wonders,â (and so on and so forth). But if you sound out what philologists call âAnglo-Saxon,â youâll start to hear the characteristic rhythms of Englishâstaccato firing of short, consonant rich words, and most of all the alliteration. Anglo-Saxon, if heard without concentration, can sound like someone speaking English in another room just beyond your hearing; it can sound like an upside-down version of what we speak every day; it can sound like what our language would be if imitated by a non-fluent speaker. CĂŠdmonâs verse may have been gifted from angels, but the ingredients were his tongueâs phonemes, and unlike the Romance languageâs rhyme-ready vowels, he had hard Germanic edges.
Such was the template set by CĂŠdmon, for though âOld English meter is not fully understood,â as Derik Attridge explained in Poetic Rhythm: An Introduction, it does appear to âhave been written according to complex rules.â Details of prosody are beyond my purview, but as a crackerjack explanation, what defines Anglo-Saxon meter is a heavy reliance on alliteration, whereby what connects the two halves of a line, separated by a caesura (the gap you see between words in the bit of CĂŠdmon quoted above), is an alliterated meter stress. In CĂŠdmonâs first line we have the alliteration of âhergan/hefaenrÄ«caes,â in the second line the alliterative triumvirate of âmetudĂŠs/maecti/mĆdgidanc,â a pattern that continues throughout the rest of the hymn. A meter that David Crystal in The Stories of English described as âthe most structurally distinctive verse form to have emerged in the history of English.â
The vast majority of Anglo-Saxonâs âstructurally distinctive verse,â as with all literatures, is lost to us. By necessity, oral literature disappears, as ephemeral as breath in the cold. Words are subject to decay; poetry to entropy. Only about 400 manuscripts of Anglo-Saxon survive, less than the average number of books in a professorâs office in Cambridge, or Berkeley, or Ann Arbor. Of those, slightly fewer than 200 are considered âmajor,â and there are but four major manuscripts of specifically poetry. The earliest of these, the Junius manuscript, is that which contains CĂŠdmonâs hymn; the latest of these, the Nowell Codex, contains among other things the only extant Anglo-Saxon epic, that which we call Beowulf. Such is undoubtedly an insignificant percentage of what was once written, of what was once sung to the accompaniment of a lute. Much was lost in the 16th century when Henry VIII decided to dissolve the monasteries, so that most alliterative verse was either turned to ash, or stripped into the bindings of other books, occasionally discovered by judicious bibliographers. Almost all Anglo-Saxon literature, from poetry to prose, hagiography to history, bible translation to travelogue, could be consumed by the committed reader in a few months as theyâre squirreled away in a Northumbrian farm house.
Anglo-Saxon has a distinctive literary register that revels in riddles, in ironic understatement, in the creative metaphorical neologisms called âkennings,â and of course in alliteration. This is the literature of the anonymous poem âThe Seafarer,â a fatalistic elegy of a mere 124 lines about the life of a sailor, whose opening was rendered by the 20th-century modernist poet Ezra Pound as âMay I for my own self songâs truth reckon, /Journeyâs jargon, how I in harsh days / Hardship endured oft.â Pound was not only bewitched by alliterationâs alluring galumph, but the meter of âThe Seafarerâ propels the action of the poem forward, the cadence of natural English speech tamed by the defamiliarization of enjambment and stress, rendering it simultaneously ordinary and odd (as the best poetry must). Anglo-Saxon is a verse, for which the Irish poet and translator of Beowulf Seamus Heaney remarks, where even when the language is elevated itâs also âalways, paradoxically, buoyantly down to earth.â Read aloud âThe Wanderer,â which sits alongside âThe Seafarerâ in the compendium known as the Exeter Book, where the anonymous scop sings of âThe thriving of the treeland, the townâs briskness, / a lightness over the leas, life gathering, / everything urges the eagerly mooded / man to venture on the voyage he thinks of, / the faring over flood, the far bourn.â Prosody is an art of physical feeling before it ever is one of semantic comprehensionâpoems exist in the mouth, not in the mind. Note the mouth-feel of âThe Wandererâsâ aural sense, the way in which reading it aloud literally feels good. Poetry is a science of placing tongue against teeth and pallet, it is not philosophy. This is what Heaney described as âthe element of sensation while the mindâs lookout sways metrically and farsightedly,â and as English is an alliterative tongue itâs that alliteration which gives us sensation. A natural way of speaking, for as Heaney wrote âPart of me⊠had been writing Anglo-Saxon from the start.â
The cumulative effect of this meter is as if a type of sonic galloping, the clip-clop of horses across the frozen winter ground of a Northumbrian countryside. Such was the sound imparted to CĂŠdmon by his unseen angel, and these were the rules drawn from the natural ferment and rich, black soil of the English language itself, where alliteration grows from our consonant top-heavy tongue. Other Germanic languages based their prosody on alliteration for the simple reason that, in the Icelandic of the Poetic Eddas or the German of Muspilli, the sounds of the words themselves make it far easier to alliterate than to rhyme, as in Italian or French. The Roland Greene and Stephen Cushman-edited Princeton Handbook of Poetic Terms explains that among the âfour most significant devices of phonic echo in poetryâârhyme, assonance, consonance, and alliterationâit was the last which most fully defined Anglo-Saxon prosody, grown from the raw sonic materials of the language itself. To adopt a line from Charles Churchillâs 1763 The Prophecy of Famine, CĂŠdmon may have âprayed / For apt alliterationâs artful aid,â but the angel only got his attentionâthe sounds were already in the monkâs speech.
Every language has a certain aural spirit to it, a type of auditory fingerprint which is related to those phonemes, those sounds, which constitute the melody and rhythm of any tongue. Romance languages with their languid syllables, words ending with the open-mouthed expression of the sprawled vowel; the spittle-flecked plosives of the Slavic tongues, or the phlegmy gutturals of the Germanic, and despite their consonants the gentle lilt of the Gaelic languages. Sound can be separate from meaning as something that can be felt in the body without the need to comprehend it in the mind.
In his masterpiece Gödel, Escher, Bach: An Eternal Golden Braid, the logician Douglas Hofstadter provides examples of individual languagesâ aural spirit. Hofstadter examines several different âtranslationsâ of the Victorian author Lewis Carrolâs celebrated nonsense lyric âJabberwockyâ from Through the Looking-Glass and What Alice Found There. That strange and delightful poem, as you will probably recall, encapsulates the aural spirit of English rather well. Carrol famously declared âTwas brillig, and the slithy toves / Did gyre and gimble in the wabe; / All mimsy were the borogoves, / And the mome raths outgrabe.â Other than some articles and conjunctions, the poem is almost entirely nonsense. Yet in its hodge-podge of invented nouns, verbs, and adjectives, most readers can imagine a fairly visceral scene, but this picture is generated not from actual semantic meaning, but rather from the strange wisdom of Englishâs particular aural soul. From âJabberwockyâ we get a sense of its preponderance of consonants and its relatively short words, a language that sounds like chewing a tough slab of air-dried meat. As Hofstadter explains, this poses a difficulty in âtranslating,â because the aural sense of English has to be converted into that of another language. Despite that difficulty, there have been several successful attempts, each of which enact the auditory anatomy of a particular tongue.
[millions_ad]Frank L. Warrinâs French translation of Carrolâs poem begins, âIl brilgue: les tĂŽves lubricilleux / Se gyrent en vrillant dans le guaveâ; Adolfo de Albaâs Spanish starts, âEra la asarvesperia y los flexilimosos toves / giroscopiaban taledrando en el vadeâ; and my personal favorite, the German of Robert Scottâs first stanza, reads as âEs brillig war. Die schlichte Toven / Wirrten und wimmelten in Waben; / Und aller-mĂŒmsige Burggoven / Die mohmen RĂ€th' ausgraben.â What all translations accomplish is a sense of the sounds of a language, the aural soul that I speak of. You need not be fluent to identify a languageâs aural soul; unfamiliarity with the actual literal meanings of a language might arguably make it easier for a listener to detect those distinct features that define a dialect. Listen to a YouTube video of the prodigious, late comedic genius Sid Caesar, a master of âdouble-talk,â who while working in his fatherâs Yonkers restaurant overheard speakers of âItalian, Russian, Polish, Hungarian, French, Spanish, Lithuanian, and even Bulgarianâ and subsequently learned that he could adeptly parrot the cadence and aural sense of those and other languages.
In his memoir Caesarâs Hours: My Life in Comedy, with Love and Laughter, the performer observes that âEvery language has its own song and rhythm.â If youâre fluent in fake French or suspect Spanish, you may naturally inquire as to what fake English sounds like. When I lived in Scotland I had a French room-mate whom I posed that query too, and after much needling (and a few drinks) he recited a sentence of perfect counterfeit English. Guttural as German, but with far shorter words; it was a type of rapid-fire clanging-and-clinking with words shooting out with a âpingâ as if lug-nuts from a malfunctioning robot. If you want a more charitable interpretation of what American English sounds like, listen to Italian pop star Adriano Celentanoâs magnificently funky fake-English song "Prisencolinensinainciusol,â where with all the guttural urgency THAT our language requires, he sings out âUis de seim cius nau op de seim/Ol uoit men in de colobos dai/Not s de seim laikiu de promisdin/Iu nau in trabol lovgiai ciu gen.â
If every language has this sonic sense, then poetry is the ultimate manifestation of a tongueâs unique genius; a languageâs consciousness made manifest and self-aware, bottled and preserved into the artifact of verse. Language lives not in the mind, but rather in the larynx, the soft pallet, the mouth, and the tongue, and its progeny are the soft serpentine sibilant, the moist plosive, the chest gutturalsâ heart-burn. A languageâs poetry will reflect the natural sounds that have developed for its speakers, as can be witnessed in the meandering inter-locking softness of Italian ottava rima or the percussive trochaic tetrameter of Finlandâs The Kalevala. For Romance languages, rhyme is relatively easyâall of those vowels at the ends of words. That Anglo-Saxon meter should be so heavily alliterative, along with its consonant-heavy West Germanic cousins like Frisian, also makes sense. Why then is rhyme historically the currency of English language poetry after the Anglo-Saxon era? After all, one couldnât imagine a philistineâs declaration of âThis canât be poetry; it doesnât alliterate.â
The reasons are both complex and contested, though the hypothesis is that following the Norman invasion (1066 and all that) Romance poetic styles were imposed on the Germanic speaking peoples (as indeed theyâd once imposed their language on the Celts). In A Poetâs Guide to Poetry by Mary Kinzie, she writes that âIn the history of English poetry, rhyme takes over when alliteration leaves off.â A century-and-a-half of free verse, and almost five centuries of blank verse, and so enshrined is rhyme that your average reader still assumes that itâs definitional to what poetry is. But alliteration, despite its integral role in the birth of our prosody, and its continual presence (often accidental) in our everyday speech, is relegated to the role of adult child from a first marriage whose invitation to Thanksgiving dinner has been lost in the mail. There is an important historical exception to this, during the High Middle Ages, when the Germanic throatiness of old English was rounded out by the softness of Norman French and some poets chose to once again write their verse in the characteristic alliterative meter of their ancestors. Or maybe thatâs what happened, itâs entirely possible that English poets never chose to abandon alliteration, and the so-called alliterative revival with poems like the anonymous Pearl Poetâs Sir Gawain and the Green Knight and William Langlandâs Piers Plowman are just that which survives, giving the illusion that something has returned which never actually left.
In All the Fun's in How you Say a Thing: An Explanation of Meter and Versification, Timothy Steele writes that some regard the alliterative revival as a âconscious protest against the emerging accentual-syllabic tradition and as a nationalistic effort to turn English verse back to its German origins.â Whether thatâs the case is an issue for medievalists to debate. What is true is that the Middle English poetry of this period represents a vernacular renaissance of the 13th and 14th centuries when much English poetry read as, well, English. Again, with a sense of mouth feel, read aloud Simon Armitageâs translation of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight when the titular emerald man picks up his just severed head and says, âyou must solemnly swear/that youâll seek me yourself; that youâll search me out/to the ends of the earth to earn the same blow/as youâll dole out today in this decorous hall.â That âs,â and âe,â and âdâ â thereâs a pleasure in reading alliteration that can avoid the artifice of rhyme, with its straitjacket alterity. Armitage explains that âalliteration is the warp and weft of the poem, without which it is just so many fine threadsâ (that line itself replicating Anglo-Saxon meter, albeit in prose). For the translator, alliteration exists as âpercussive patterningâ which is there to âreinforce their meaning and to countersink them within the memory,â what Crystal calls âphonological mnemonics.â
But if the alliterative poetry of the High Middle Ages signaled not a rupture but an occluded continuity, then it is true that by the arrival of the Renaissance, rhyme would permanently supplant it as the prosodic element du jour. Adoption of continental models of verse are in large part due to the coming influence of Renaissance humanism, yet the 14th-century also saw the political turmoil of the Peasantâs Rebellion, when an English-speaking rabble organized against the French-speaking aristocracy, motivated by a proto-Protestant religious movement called Lollardy and celebrated in a flowering of vernacular spiritual writing, which contributed to the Churchâs eventual fear of bible translation. As the rebellion would be violently put down in 1381, there was a general distrust among the ruling classes of scripture rendered into an English tongueâcould a similar distrust of alliteration, too common and simple, have shifted poetry away from it for good? Melvyn Bragg writes in The Adventures of English: The Biography of a Language that poets like Langland (himself possibly a Lollard) rendered their verse âmore believable for being so plainly painted,â a poetry âmeant to sound like the language of the people.â This was precisely what was to be avoided, and so perhaps alliteration migrated from the rarefied realms of poetry back to simple speech, eventually reserved mostly for instances in which, as Bragg writes, there is a need to âGrab the listenerâs or readerâs attentionâŠsuch as in news headlines and advertising slogans.â
Madison Avenue understands alliterationâs deep wisdom, such that âGuinness is good for youâ (possibly true) and âGreyhound going greatâ (undoubtedly not true).â While at home in advertising, Attridge explained that alliteration is a ârare visitor to the literary realm,â with Hirsch adding that it now exists as a âsubterranean stream in English-language poetry.â Subterranean streams can still have a mighty roar however, as alliterationâs preponderance in the popular realm of slogans and lyrics can attest to. Alliteration exists because alliteration works, and while itâs been largely supplanted by rhyme for several hundred years it remains in the wheelhouse of some of our most canonical poets. The 19th-century British poet Gerard Manley Hopkins largely derived his âsprung rhythmâ from Anglo-Saxon meter, where he lets the Sybilâs leaves declare âlet them be left, wildness and wet; Love live the weeds and the wilderness yet,â calling forth all the forward momentum of âThe Wanderer.â
For exhibition of alliterationâs sheer magnificent potential, examine W.H. Audenâs under-read 1947 masterpiece The Age of Anxiety, which demonstrates our indigenous tropeâs full power, especially in a contemporary context, and not just as a fantasy novel affectation for when an author needs characters to sound like stock Saxons. Across six subsections spread amongst 138 pages, four war-time characters in a Manhattan bar reflect on modernityâs traumas in a series of individual inner alliterative monologues. Alliteration is perfectly attuned to this setting, which Auden later described as âan unprejudiced space where nothing particular ever happens,â because alliteration simultaneously announced itself as common (i.e. âThis is what English speakers sound likeâ) while also clearly poetic (âBut we donât normally alliterate as regularly as thatâ). Take the passage in which one of the characters, now drunk in a stream of consciousness reverie (for thatâs what good Guinness does for youâŠ), examines his own face across from himself in the barroom mirror (as one does). Auden writes:
How glad and good when you go to bed,
Do you feel, my friend? What flavor has
That liquor you lift with your left hand;
Is it cold by contrast, cool as this
For a soiled soul; does yourself like mine
Taste of untruth? Tell me, what are you
Hiding in your heart, some angel face,
Some shadowy she who shares in my absence,
Enjoys my jokes? Iâm jealous, surely,
Nicer myself (though not as honest),
The marked man of romantic thrillers
Whose brow bears the brand of winter
No priest can explain, the poet disguised,
Thinking over things in thievesâ kitchens.
That thrum supplied by alliterative meter, so much sharper and more angular than rhymeâs pleasing congruencies or assonanceâs soft rounding, feels like nothing so much as the rushing blood in the temples of that drunk staring at his own disheveled reflection. Savor the slink of that âshadowy she who sharesâ or the pagan totemism of the âmarked manâ and the colloquialism of that which is âHiding in your heart.â The Age of Anxiety perfectly synthesizes a type of vernacular bar-room speech that nonetheless is clearly poetry in the circumscribed constrictions of its language. In choosing our rhetorical tropes certain metaphysical implications necessarily announce themselves. Were The Age of Anxiety rhymed or in free verse it would be a very different poem, in this case a less successful one (despite our collective ignorance about Audenâs elegy). At one point, one of the characters imagines the future, imagines us, and she predicts that the future will be âOdourless ages, an ordered world/Of planned pleasures and passport-control, /Sentry-go sedatives, soft drinks and/Managed money, a moral planet/Tamed by terror.â This is, first of all, an obviously accurate prediction of life in 2019. Itâs also one all the more terrifying in the familiar wax and wane of alliteration, for it calls forth the beating heart of English itself, and while not sounding like that stock medieval herdsman it still harkens back towards the primordial hymns of our tongue, of CĂŠdmon strumming his lute while he pops antidepressants and checks Facebook for the 500th time that day.
Such experiments as The Age of Anxiety have been at best understood as literary affectations, or at worst declarations of nativist Anglophilia (as with Pound). Kinzie complains that alliteration draws âattention away from what words mean to hint at what are often theâŠirrational similarities in their sounds,â though Iâd argue that that describes all rhetorical devices, from metaphor to metonymy, catachresis to chiasmus. She writes that alliteration appears âtowards the self-conscious end of the continuum of diction,â but itâs precisely self-awareness of medium that makes language poetry. Hirsch writes that âAlliteration can reinforce preexisting meaningsâŠand establish effective new ones,â which Kinzie interprets as mere âfondness for gnomic utterance.â But thatâs the prodigious brilliance of alliterationâits uniquely English oracular quality. As with all verse, itâs these âgnomic utterancesâ that are birthed from the pregnant potential of our particular words, and alliterationâs naturalism is what makes it so apt for this purpose in our language. Prosody at its most affecting incongruously marries the realism of speech with the defamiliarization that announces poetry as being artifice, and thatâs why alliteration is among the most haunting of our aural ghosts. Poetry is of the throat before it is of the brain, and alliteration is the common well-spring of English, sounding neither as contrived nor as straight-jacketed as rhyme. As such, why not embrace alliterative meter as more than just gimmick; why not draw attention to that aural quality of our language that is our common ownership? Our tongues already talk in alliteration, so let us once again proclaim our poems in alliteration, let us declare our dreams in it.
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Image Credit: Unsplash/Olmes Sosa.