#33// memorable books of 2021
good books of 2021
Dear Reader,
I could think of nothing funny or endearing or snappy to start this letter with. So, I went the old school way of googling quotes for something clever to interest you with. Turns out, I now (now = hours, days) have John Updike’s “The breeze tastes, of apple peel” (September), stuck in my head. What a lovely line! But also, how other worldly because that’s not a breeze I’ve met. But what I’ve met are… good books! (At this point, I cannot stop laughing because see how I pinned together breeze and apple peels, and books?). So, yes, books.
Memorable books of 2021
I usually have book lists for the best books, best books by Women in Translation by the mid of a year, but this year I could publish none. So instead, I thought I would list a few memorable reads here. What makes this list different is that it comes off the top of my head. So I haven’t gone back to look at my log of books read this year, rather I want to see what I remember.
My strongest memory is The Secret History by Donna Tartt, which I read for the first time in 2020, and then again in 2021, and I am positive it will be read again in my lifetime. It is as good as what they all say. And I want to say nothing more about it. I spent many nights with short chapters from the (must-buy, must-read) Ghosts, Monsters and Demons of India by Furcifer Bhairav and Rakesh Khanna this year. It is PERFECT if you love myths, and mythological beings. They cover myths from different regions of India and I adored it. I have unfinished bits (I think F to J, the book lists them alphabetically), but so good, trust me. (Contact Blaft publications directly for the book).
Lonely Castle in the Mirror by Mizuki Tsujimura, translated by Phillip Gabriel, was an enjoyable novel even though I felt novel-hungry after the end. That’s the thing about ‘memorable books’ perhaps. I really enjoyed it, but there were parts I wished gave more details. This book is surreal, almost fairy tale-ish—school kids go to a castle (through a mirror!) and play video games, and chat. They have to follow certain rules and find a missing key—but also very real in the way it addresses mental health problems and coping mechanisms. Think K-drama The Squid Game but without messy gun shootings. Oh, the wolf in the castle eats kids, so… why don’t you give it a try? It is lovely!
If I had to name an absolutely indulgent cozy mystery, there’s Eight Perfect Murders by Peter Swanson. Murders follow a pattern from a blog post—a book list, no less. As the months are inching towards the cold, this murder mystery will warm you up surely. I wish I had kept it for the latter half of the year. The Dutch House by Ann Patchett was another glorious read. I listened to the narration by Tom Hanks and it was an absolute treat. And by that, I mean there are lots of ugly crying when the book ended. It was beautiful, gorgeous, everything I want a good book to be. I read it in a stuffy room with bad ventilation when there were some renovations happening in my house. When I think of the novel, it takes me right back to sweaty, humid day, sitting on the bed with two fans running, captivated by a house that has a personality of its own.
I already talked about The Other Bennett Sister by Janice Hadlow and Plain, Bad Heroines by Emily M. Danforth in my last letter, so not repeating myself. Then there’s the Upper East side wife of a successful writer in Mrs March by Virginia Feito. Mrs March swallowed me up completely. It gives Mrs Dalloway vibes in the first page and then quickly descends into paranoia, fickle female mind, and wicked humour. So the wife discovers (in a bookshop!) that her husband’s unlikeable heroine is modelled after her. Then she also notices that her husband goes on writing retreats and women go missing around the same time. This book will eat you up. It fell flat in some parts but I still think about it after many months. Doesn’t that say it is a good book, after all? If you love The Yellow Wallpaper, Rebecca, you’ll enjoy this very much. Oh, there’s also The Tokyo Zodiac Murders by Soji Shimada, translated by Ross MacKenzie and Shika MacKenzie. I found the beginning a drag with the astronomical details (well, what did you expect from that title, Resh?), BUT that ending! Oh my goodness. It is one of the cleverest serial killings executed—you’ll throw the book across the room. Very good blood-pumping climax.
I have more news. Those who have followed me for a while might know that I am usually here and there. Not intentional, but life often happens that way. I’ve simultaneously called Mumbai and Kerala ‘homes’ for a long time. And that has changed. I have moved to a new city, in a new country (US), joining my husband. So bye, Mumbai for now,(I would always be sad that I never really said a proper bye to the city, and I hope I'll visit soon because I left a big piece of my heart here. The city, the incredible people, many apartments. I love you Mumbai), Kerala of course remains the always-home, and this strange, new city is my new home. I keep my fingers crossed that it will warm up to me, and I would grow to love it the way I've loved all the other homes I've lived in. If you’ve read my last newsletter, you would remember that I wasn’t in the best health for the last few months. That, added to the pandemic, made this new turn of events, a hell. But all’s well; We are here now.
First thoughts. I was terribly homesick. I would wake up suddenly at night and start crying. I would have really dark thoughts that I would get sick here and die (nightmares aren’t pretty, yikes). Moving to a new place in the middle of a pandemic was certainly far too stressful for ‘my poor nerves’, as Mrs Bennett would say. I am looking forward to the fall season (and dreading the winters because even 18deg Celcius is 'too cold' for me). The algorithms have noted the location change. So now I get Instagram ads for fancy bidets (hello Indian, welcome?), fancier-than-I-can-ever-afford cookware and ridiculous items (like over-prized, branded reusable wipes which are actually just pieces of cloth, but, hear me out, they can be washed and used again to wipe spills, who knew!). I’ve made a new friend. Just one. But she leaves in weeks. That’s the good news and the sad news. Which takes me back to just how lonely I would be in a new city. Would I make new friends? Or with the ongoing pandemic, would it be like I never left ‘home’ when I am back in India?
On the reading front, probably this year I would read more selfishly. All for myself. There are books that I’ve wanted to read but never found the time for. (like The Makioka Sisters, which I am planning to read with a small group in October—details here—you are welcome to join. I want to hunt high and low for some cozy reads, the ones that usually mention an idyllic English countryside. I’ve missed those books when I moved to Kerala, because Mumbai was a treasure trove of second hand books. There are strong plans to re-read books too—doing this for a while now. Life is too short for all the new books. It makes sense to read old favourites again. I couldn’t be more excited for public libraries. Must make the most use of them before I leave this place. I feel I am on a deadline already. Lol. Some books and authors I’ve been keeping on my list—The resurrection of Joan Ashby, The house on Mango street, a lot more D. E Stevenson, Rachel Cusk, Yiyun Li, Tale of the Genji, Kristin Lavransdattar, Barbara Pym, Elena Ferrante, Anita Desai (one of my favourites, I feel like I have never got the time to savour her in between all new books but what an excellent writer she is!), Claudine series, classics that I've been meaning to read for a LONG time, and more. In all probability, I might be tempted by other books, as always. I am not sure what this means for the newsletter. But there’ll be good books and perhaps homesick letters.
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If you love following the Met Gala, here's a Twitter thread of Met Gala x book covers that is super awesome. PS: Not because I created it. It really is! People have been saying some very nice things.
In my google escapades, I also came across “All the months are crude experiments, out of which the perfect September is made.” (Virginia Woolf). And though I have neither verified the quote, nor know the context, I think it is rather lovely. Don’t you?
I hope you are well.
Until next time,
Resh x
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