Books I loved in 2010

Ten books that I read and loved in 2010, not in any particular order, not necessarily published this year (some not even published yet).

The Poisonwood Bible – Barbara Kingsolver

Ghostwritten – David Mitchell

White Cat – Holly Black

The Passage – Justin Cronin

American Wife – Curtis Sittenfeld

The Silent Land – Graham Joyce

Sisters Red – Jackson Pearce

The Gate at the Stairs – Lorrie Moore

Daughter of Smoke and Bone – Laini Taylor

Room – Emma Donaghue

This has been the year that I have “discovered” (or learnt to appreciate) YA and crossover fiction.  Having said that, I’ve been reading a lot of books for younger readers as research for my new role, and I’m now itching to get back to something that challenges me a bit more.  I’ve read some fantastic books by amazing YA authors, such as Lauren Oliver and Laini Taylor, but I can’t pretend that they’ve not been a bit of a brain-holiday.  I’ve had a lot going in the latter half of this year and I think that my reading has reflected that.

I’ve become a more accepting reader this year.  At university, I used to dismiss certain genres out of hand, but I’ve since learnt that I can enjoy books from genres that I wouldn’t have thought that I would as long as they’re fantastically written.  I just can’t forgive bad writing.  I think that’s why I don’t read a lot of crime or any chick lit – the readers of that genre want different things from a book than I do (namely, plot driven pace that often sacrifices characterisation, sense, and good prose), so the majority of the books deliver what the fans want, which makes sense.  People often think that I won’t read crime, which isn’t true, I’m just wary of it because the mass of the genre doesn’t appeal.  Erin Kelly’s The Poison Tree is a crime novel that absolutely blew me away with the quality of the prose and the zeitgeist that it captured.  Similarly, I don’t think that I’ve ever read a sci-fi novel, but that’s not to say that I never will – I’m just waiting for one that might meet my exacting standards…  I’m less of a literary snob than I was at the start of the year, but I still demand quality from the novels that I read.

What have you read and loved this year?

Oh dear

It’s been a while…  I haven’t had internet at home (I’m looking at you, Virgin Media) and I’ve been busy at work, but I’m squeezing this post in on a Friday lunchtime to let you all know that:

1. I am behind on nano.  This is not a surprise.  The surprise is that I stayed on track for a whole week.  Still, if I double my word count by Sunday, I can have 25,000 words and be back in the game.  I’m pleased with what I’ve been writing, though, so I’m considering the endeavour a success.

2. I’ve just finished reading American Gods.  Fantastic.  Huger in scope than Anansi Boys,  so I felt a more distanced from the characters, but just epic and brilliant.

3. Genuine excitement – I’ve just remembered that I have the manuscript for the new David Mitchell novel in my desk drawer.  I thought that I had nothing to read on the tube home, but now I do!

five day weekend

It’s gotten to that point in the year where I’ve clearly not been on enough holidays and I have days left to use up – poor me, I have to take days off to chill out at home.  Oh, and go to the dentist.  Aside from the mouth prodding, I’m planning to use these days to bake (’tis all about pumpkin muffins at the moment.  Even better with ginger icing – mmm!), read, and finally get the outline of this novel down on paper.  Timelines, coloured pens, character breakdowns – oh, it’s all going on!  It’s all taken shape in my head, but I can’t actually say I’m writing it until I at least have the outline in physical existence.

I finished The Year of the Flood on the tube this morning.  Fantastic novel, but finishing a book on the journey into work always leaves me anxious that I’ll have nothing to read on the way home except a free London paper.  Luckily, working in publishing, new books aren’t hard to come by.  I went into work with nothing and came out with Ghostwritten and American Gods to see me through my lovely looooong weekend.  Reading the bio in Ghostwritten, I realised that David Mitchell was 30 when his first novel was published.  That is my target age for being a published novelist.  I’m still on the opinion that 30 is young for a novelist, despite the sickening two 24 year old debut novelists that we’re publishing next year – freaks!  Damned, talented freaks!