Books of 2023.

What have I read in the KIOSK this year? It's Top 5 time!

I know you’ve all been waiting for it…but what have I been reading in the kiosk in 2023?

Well, it’s been a mixed bag, to be honest. It’s been a very strong year for nonfiction (which I read in the mornings with breakfast) and a very frustrating year for fiction (which I read in the evening). I’m not sure why, but struggled to find much that I really connected with, which is why you’ll see that two on the fiction list are probably more on the novella/short story end of things.

For context, I read about thirty-five books this year, and these were the top fives that made the biggest impression on me.

Fiction.

The Geometer Lebachevsky – Adrian Duncan

A visceral and poignant exploration of exile, as the titular character muses on his distant home, while trying to make sense of his new one in rural Ireland. It’s as frequently darkly amusing as it is sorrowful and tragic, revealing there is no greater design to the world around us, it’s just the dark and wonderful turns it can take. The descriptions of people and place are also wonderfully rich, but delivered in an deceptively restrained manner.

Turtle Diary – Russell Hoban

This is a fairly well known one, but new to me, and I found it to be a delightful and amusing exploration of modern life. That makes it sounds far more whimsical than it is, as each chapter is so well crafted that they almost feel like short stories or vignettes into the very real lives of very human people. The world turns very quickly these days, so I was surprised to find a book from 1975 (almost fifty years ago now *gulp*), not only still stood up, but still felt surprisingly contemporary.

Climbers – M. John Harrison

The standout fiction book of the year for me. I’ve not read any of his other work (primarily sci-fi, I think) but this caught my eye as I have an interest in climbing and indeed ‘niche scenes’ in general. It’s not really about climbing at all, but more the therapy and community of hobbies and nature, and role they serve as respite/distraction/companionship in response to our messy, damaged and meandering lives. It’s also got some beautiful nature writing in there too.

Bonsai – Alejandro Zambra

Those who know my reading habits will know I like economy. That’s not to say ‘short books’ (although Bonsai certainly is that), but efficiency in writing, and saying the most in the least words is probably the thing I enjoy most in a good book. Bonsai does this in spades, seemingly delivering you all the information you need to follow the story and no more. However, the short cumulative experience leaves you with every emotion you would expect to be stirred by young love, addiction and the cruel turns of life.

Foster – Claire Keegan

Another short one that really packs a punch. So short in fact that it’s hard to describe without summarising the whole thing, but it’s an immersive point of view tale of a young girl in new surroundings in rural Ireland. I’ll leave it at that really, but it’s delightful and heart-breaking.

Non-fiction.

The Wager – David Gann

If this was fiction, you’d be forgiven for thinking it’s a ‘bit much’, but the escalating horror and insanity in this account of a maritime disaster in the 1800s, is all true. However, it very much reads like a page-turning thriller, propelling the reader from chapter to chapter, desperate to find out what could possibly befall these pour souls next. There’s a deep catharsis for the armchair reader in thinking ‘I’m glad it’s not me out there!’, as you pour yourself another drink and settle back in for more, because it’s a truly staggering ordeal. But as the old saying goes, when boats were made of wood, men were made of steel…

Exiles – William Atkins

A great companion to The Geometer Lebachevsky (and not only or their similar cover designs), this examination of three historical exiles is a deeply emotional inquiry into what it means to be relocated against your will. Both the damage to the individuals and the state power being wielded are hard to quantify, which is what makes it such a fascinating and nebulous subject. As Atkins tries to understand the reasons and cost of such a punishment, it becomes something of a personal journey too, as he visits the three remote parts of the world that his subjects ended up in, searching for clues and meaning amid the mess of human history.

Feral – George Monbiot

Much like The Book of Trespass (Nick Hayes) last year, I felt myself being radicalised by page one of this book. Our disconnection and destruction of the natural world is so widespread and epic in scale that it’s easy to feel completely overwhelmed by the horror of it, but Monbiot’s boots on the ground study into very simple and very real things we could be doing right now (and in some cases are), means you cannot help but feel a surge of optimism at such an achievable goal, should society wish to attempt to turn the tide. It’s also a very human and well written book, making it a joy, not a chore.

The Right To Sex – Amia Srinivasan

To have such a calm, reasonable and journalistic mind approach a topic that is so fraught with emotion and diametrically opposed viewpoints, is such an admirable endeavour. Srinivasan deftly dances between empiric evidence and the subjective experience, as she tries to make sense of the mess society seems to have got itself into over sexual politics. It’s challenging and illuminating, and across the series of essays contained here, I felt a greater compassion for a myriad of alternate viewpoints and experiences – and that can only be a good thing.

The Last Colony – Phillipe Sands

It might seem like a tall order to make a book about international law interesting, but Sands has somehow turned a decades long legal battle about a nation’s sovereignty into a gripping courtroom drama. Full disclosure, I’d been interested in the theft of the Chagos Archipelago and the deportation of its inhabitants from the Indian Ocean for quite a while before I read this, but I still think this account of the history and process is a book that everyone should read. It charts the desperate grasping of the British Empire, as it tries to hang on to the last of its stolen assets, but it’s also brimming with humanity, the journey being as personal as it is political.

Graphic Novels.

Considering I make them, it’s quite strange that I don’t read more graphic novels, but most of them leave me a bit cold. It’s probably a topic for another newsletter to be honest, but for now, here’s a few I read this year and enjoyed.

Ducks – Kate Beaton

A comprehensive autobiographical account of Beaton’s time working in Canada’s mining industry. The moment to moment scenes almost feel inconsequential, but it’s cumulative, revealing far more that you might expect.

Roaming – Jillian & Mariko Tamaki

Quite slight, but magnificently drawn and really skewers the awkwardness of being at age where you know nothing, and not wanting anyone else to know that.

Shoplifter – Michael Cho

A beautiful and quiet addition to the ‘What the fuck am I actually doing with my life?’ genre.

Dockwood – Jon McNaught

Like all of McNaught’s work, it’s quiet, poetic, thoughtful and humorous. It also looks stunning.

Flake – Matthew Dooley

Warring ice-cream vans is a great premise, but there is so much more here to enjoy. It has the same feeling of a watching Detectorists; simultaneously funny, poignant and nostalgic.

Honourable Mentions.

Like I say, I’ve read some good non-fiction this year, so here’s a couple of extras.

Unreasonable Behaviour – Don McCullin.

I don’t really read biography, but this is a brutal wade through the working life of the seminal war photographer and it’s a fascinating account of a man and the follies of humankind. Also, what a title.

Monsters - Clare Dederer

A book about the pub conversation of our times, ‘I like ‘X’, but it’s made by ‘X’, who is awful. What do I do with that?’. It’s obviously not a straight answer, but it’s still an interesting conversation and thought experiment.

So there you go, make of that what you will, and hope you had a fun year of reading too. On a personal note, ‘Books of 2022’ was the first proper newsletter I did when I opened the kiosk for business, so I’ve now been doing this for a full year. Hope you’ve enjoyed hanging out here as much as I’ve enjoyed having you drop by.

Let’s do it again soon.

Owen D. Pomery