It's the last post in my "Best of the Decade" series, and we're finally up to books! Please enjoy this not-especially-timely post. 5 First up at number five, we have one half of the double act responsible for one of my all-time favourite books, Good Omens - it’s Neil Gaiman’s dark coming of age fantasy The Ocean at the End of the Lane, published in 2013. Whilst my favourite of his books is probably still Neverwhere, this comes in at a very close second. Touching on themes similar to those found in Coraline; that feeling that beneath a seemingly idyllic - or even mundane - façade could lurk unspeakable horrors, as well as coping with trauma and the importance of friendship through trying times, The Ocean at the End of the Lane opens with two deaths. If you somehow didn’t know it was a Neil Gaiman book when you started reading, that would be a bit of a signpost. Back at his family home for a funeral, the narrator begins to reminisce about events that took place when he was a child there, including the second death (or first if you want to be chronological about it), the suicide of an opal miner staying with the family. From here on in, things get strange. There is a hallucinatory quality to much of the writing, with even those parts that are supposedly taking place in the real world seeming somehow dreamlike, as well as the odd moment of horror intruding into the narrative - one particular part involving a small burrowing creature makes me curl my toes even now, seven years after reading it. This dark little fable easily stands alongside the very best of Neil Gaiman’s writing, and it’s difficult to give anything higher praise than that. 4 At number four, it’s another veteran of the comic book industry - M.R. Carey, for his 2014 novel The Girl with All the Gifts. Prior to finishing this, I didn’t actually know that M.R. Carey was in fact the writer of one of my favourite ever comic series, Lucifer, itself spinning off from Neil Gaiman’s Sandman. He writes those as Mike Carey, and his fiction as M.R. Carey, so it was only when I got to the end of the book and read the interview with him in which he started talking about Mazikeen that it clicked for me. No wonder I loved it so much. The chances are you’ve probably heard of this one too, unless you’ve been living under a rock. A word of mouth bestseller, the novel was made into a film starring Gemma Arterton, Paddy Considine and Glenn Close, which in a rare occurrence actually stuck incredibly closely to its source material (presumably because Carey adapted the screenplay). The novel and film are both set in England, some years after a cataclysmic tragedy has hit. No, not Brexit, he wasn’t that prescient. A big old chunk of the populace has been infected with Ophiocordyceps unilateralis, which is the scientific name for fungus zombies (if you’ve ever played The Last of Us, it’s similar to what causes zombification in that. Well, not similar, pretty much the same. This is, as it turns out, just a weird coincidence, although comparisons between the two will abound). Melanie is a young girl infected with the virus, being educated by her idol Miss Justineau on a military base under the watchful eye of Sergeant Parks, with the menacing figure of Doctor Caldwell lurking in the background. Things inevitably take a turn for the worst, and Melanie’s former life of learning and striving to be star pupil is abandoned in a flight across the country, pursued frequently by the terrifying “Hungries.” Characterisation is the star here, with the small roster of characters feeling very believable, and the situations they find themselves in causing interesting intersections between their different personalities as their motivations and agendas come to the fore. Many of the situations simmer with a tension that isn’t anything to do with the potential for imminent violent death in the jaws of an infected human, more the strained relationships on display, with Carey pulling the strings of his characters until they’re stretched almost to breaking point. A masterful page turner - if you enjoyed Justin Cronin’s The Passage trilogy and somehow haven’t got around to reading this (along with its prequel, The Boy on the Bridge), get on it! 3 Something a little more recent now, with Sally Rooney’s Normal People (2018) at number three. I picked this up following an interview, intending to read some of it on the coach on the way home - I had made the tragic mistake of not bringing enough reading material for the journey there and back - and ended up reading the whole book in one sitting, turning the last page as the coach pulled up to the stop. To anyone watching, it probably looked like I was silently weeping at the prospect of returning to Nottingham, but actually it was thanks to this - honest! Longlisted for the Booker Prize and winner of the Waterstones Book of the Year and Costa Best Novel prize, praise had been heaped on the novel before I got around to it. Going by the blurb, I wasn’t entirely sure that I would enjoy it, as it didn’t sound like the sort of thing I would normally read, but having made an effort to read more widely over the last year or so I took a punt on it, and was extremely glad that I did. I remember thinking “OK, I am completely hooked” something like five pages in, and from that moment on my eyes didn’t leave the page. Normal People is the story of two young people and the complicated relationship between the two of them, following Connell and Marianne from their secondary school days in County Sligo and the events that unfold from then on. Normal People isn’t the sort of book to feature big, sensational moments of drama; it’s more about the slowly unfolding and developing narrative between and around Connell and Marianne. Both of them are who they are because of the other and the effect their actions and words have had on them, and this becomes clearer as the novel progresses. Normal People is a novel to be dwelt on, a story of introspection and self-analysis that naturally leads the reader into the same themselves. A beautiful and emotionally stirring novel, with themes so universal that it can (and should) be read by everyone. 2 Taking second place, it’s another highly praised novel from a female Irish author - Milkman (2018), by Anna Burns. I’ve tried to read as many prize winners and nominees as I can recently, among my normal purchases, and of all the Booker nominees and winners I’ve read before, this year or any other, this has been my favourite. Receiving praise from seemingly almost everyone to come into contact with the book, Milkman was one that skipped right to the top of my TBR as soon as I purchased it, and this was not a decision I regretted. For once I was actually reading a contemporary book that everybody was talking about! Set in Ireland during the Troubles, the novel is narrated from the perspective of an eighteen-year-old girl, who struggles to deal with the normal ups and downs of life as a teenager, amplified by the extreme circumstances of life in such a volatile atmosphere. There is her relationship with “maybe-boyfriend,” which has all the hallmarks of a teenage romance but with the added edge of tension that comes with the titular Milkman - a shady local man with reputed paramilitary connections - hinting that a violent fate might befall maybe-boyfriend should our heroine not take him up on his advances. Throughout the novel there are these examples of normal, even mundane life being lived while informed by, and at times in spite of, these simmering tensions, with a real feeling of frustration coming through in the narration. We really get the sense that the narrator doesn’t have much truck with either side in the conflict, preferring to spend her time with her nose in the classics rather than trying to get involved in the present. The writing itself is truly like nothing else I’ve read before, able to evoke laughter in its blackly comedic, deadpan delivery one moment then sweep you up with its matter of fact descriptions of beauty the next. The use of nicknames for all the characters - local poisoner “tablets girl,” wannabe paramilitary “Somebody McSomebody,” the always entertaining “wee sisters” - lends the novel an almost fable-like quality, as well as framing the relationship between the narrator and them better and more efficiently than a boring, regular name ever could. Milkman stands as a unique snapshot of a time in a country’s history that serves as a powerful warning against unchecked rumour and gossip running rampant, and it’s this theme in particular that feels all the more relevant in this “post-truth” age. A wonderful book, and my favourite of those that I read last year. 1 So, the number one spot! Thus far, every book I’ve listed has been one that I would recommend to anybody, regardless of what kind of thing they normally read. The number one book is one that I’ve recommended to countless people too, even going as far to buy them a copy to make sure they have no excuse not to read it. I was that pushy. It probably won’t come as much surprise to anybody who received a copy that my favourite book of the last decade is the epic, generation-spanning tale of the McCullough family. It’s Philipp Meyer’s 2013 novel, The Son. Having read Meyer’s first novel, American Rust, I was pleased to see The Son displayed so prominently in my local Waterstones. Meyer’s debut novel caused enough of a splash on its publication in 2009 to earn the author plenty of praise, but his second would see him step up to another level altogether. Whereas Meyer’s debut had focused on the state of modern America’s decaying industrial heartland, The Son’s scope was considerably more ambitious and far-reaching, even inviting comparison to the likes of Cormac McCarthy’s Blood Meridian. Taking in the conflict between white settlers and Native Americans, the civil war, oil booms, world wars and more, and leading right up to the time the novel was being written, the story traces the history of the McCulloughs, from young Eli’s abduction by Comanches in 1849, through his son Peter’s management of the family business that sets him at odds with his father, up to Eli’s great granddaughter Jeanne and her life as an oil baroness. Blood and oil run thick through Meyer’s novel, as one would expect from any work that attempts such a lofty ambition as chronicling the history of the US - from Eli’s abduction onwards, the threat of violence is ever present, with the effects of the traumatic events that take place during and just after this informing the man that Eli will become - a power hungry, hard man, a man who resorts to violence to get his way, and a man who has no time for his son Peter’s thoughtfulness and emotional turmoil. Raised by such an individual, it’s unsurprising that Jeanne Anne, or JA as she’s known, is a similarly tough individual. Ending up in control of the family business, which has by this time moved into oil, JA finds herself in a world run by powerful men who refuse to take her seriously - to their cost. Hopping between the three characters and their timelines, it would be easy to think that things might get confusing, but actually I found that the more I read, the more the different narratives informed each other and became easier to follow - Eli’s behaviour towards his son makes more sense the more we find out about him, for example, and the provenance of Jeanne’s actions are clear when we see how she idolizes her bloody-handed great-grandfather. A book of history, conquest, self-determination and legacy, The Son is a powerful, spell-binding epic, truly worthy of being named as a Great American Novel. So, there we go, those are my favourite books of the last decade! I’m sure those who know me won’t exactly be reeling with surprise that I chose The Son as my number one pick, given my love for Cormac McCarthy and, in particular, Blood Meridian, but what can I say? I know what I like! I’d also like to give honourable mentions to Max Porter’s Lanny, Claire North’s The First Fifteen Lives of Harry August, and Aaron Dembski-Bowden for, well, all of his books. Currently reading: The Five: The Untold Lives of the Women Killed by Jack the Ripper, Hallie Rubenhold Currently listening: Stand for Something or Die for Nothing, Street Dogs
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AuthorOllie - BA English and Creative Writing, MA Publishing. Archives
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