March 2020 Books

It's safe to say that March was a bit of an unusual time. Even though I read some of these books before everything really started to change drastically, the endless torrent of news has served to decimate my memory of them. And those books I read afterwards are foggy from a limited concentration span. If your reading is suffering even though you appear to have more time on your hands, don't beat yourself up. Most reading requires that bit more concentration than your average TV show, and sometimes I just want to lose myself in an easy sitcom. Nonetheless, as always I've found much solace in my reading, especially when I find something I connect with, so I hope my reviews can help you to find those books that will resonate with you during a difficult time, and pull you into a different world (or sometimes, as can be equally helpful, reflect and process your own).

Highs

Meeting the Universe Halfway: Quantum Physics and the Entanglement of Matter and Meaning by Karen Barad

It's difficult to know where to begin with this book, which might just change the way you perceive the world, and how you understand how matter (and the physical world) relates to the production of meaning. Much traditional thought would suggest that it doesn't, or the ways in which they do are vague and beyond our ken. Barad builds on the ideas of renowned physicist Niels Bohr (a contemporary of Einstein's) to create her theory of 'intra-action', and is able to provide convincing evidence as to how matter and meaning might relate.

In her introduction she notes that it was written to inform both scientists and political and cultural theorists; the former by adding cultural theory and the ethics of meaning to their studies and for the latter by showing how the study of quantum physics might help flesh out (literally) their interpretations of the world. Coming to the book from a humanities background, I found Barad's theory completely refreshing for the ways it identifies and fills in gaps that have always unnerved me in the work of major theorists. Judith Butler's Bodies That Matter is a seminal and influential work, but what does she really mean by matter, and how does the physical world really interrelate with theories such as hers. These are the questions Barad faces at the beginning of the book, and she goes on to expand on how we might use quantum physics to provide some of the answers. The relationship between matter and meaning naturally has consequences and perhaps answers as to how systems of oppression come to be, and crucially how we might change them. So, much like Butler and the other theorists that Barad draws on, she is interested in the ethical ramifications of 'intra-action', with a particular focus on feminism.

Even better, the book is written in as straightforward a style as you can get when regarding such big ideas (likely because of her science roots). Unlike many contemporary theorists, this is not written in a purposefully challenging way, nor is it filled with tons of jargon. Though it is not an easy book by any means, and will require you to stretch your horizons, it is in many ways accessible. I found this book to be particularly revelatory having come to it with a good knowledge base of contemporary theory, and so if you haven't already, you might like to read up a little bit on Foucault, Butler and Donna Haraway (whom Barad uses the most) to have that same effect. But like I said, this book is written for both scientists and cultural theorists, and she does do some of the legwork for you in the earlier sections. And as for her explanations of quantum physics, I found them to be fascinating, and fairly painless to absorb.

I think about Barad's book and her theory often as I'm going about my day, and it was the first proper theory book I wanted to read after my post-Master's break. I used sections of it in my dissertation and wanted to absorb the whole work in its totality. The way she builds on her ideas in each chapter is masterful, and not only is she a great thinker, but also a great writer. I would highly recommend it if you want something that will more than likely change your life.

Authority by Jeff VanderMeer

Part of the reason I love VanderMeer's writing is that his thinking is wide-ranging, comprehensive and endlessly, playfully curious about the world. And his work resonates so nicely with the likes of Barad, as he understands the ways in which matter and mind interrelate (or intra-act, rather). This second book in the Southern Reach trilogy might not appeal to everyone, even those people who liked Annihilation, because it's quite different (you can read my review of the first book here, particularly because it might make this one make more sense).

It follows a man who is only named as Control, who has stepped in to save an ailing Southern Reach, the agency that is in charge of the finding out exactly what the mysterious Area X is. With all their missions having failed thus far they are in danger of being shut down, though they are also performing the important role of being the boundary between Area X and the rest of the world. This novel doesn't take place inside Area X and instead in the (admittedly also creepy) halls of a bureaucratic agency, and it follows a much less charismatic character in the form of the rather pathetic Control - unsurprisingly, he lacks a lot of control. I think this is probably why some people find this novel a bit jarring in comparison with the short intensity of Annihilation led by the unnerving voice of the biologist. Nonetheless, this book has many merits of its own if you scratch beneath its surface. I hate to say it but I'm going to - it's Kafkaesque in the nightmarish way it portrays the Southern Reach, and Control finds himself haunted by his past, his family and the biologist herself (who does make an appearance). It is a tense book but it is slower than Annihilation, and the focus is not so much the action as Control himself. Again you are only getting part of the puzzle here, and you won't get all the answers, but it is well worth reading closely for what it does bring to the trilogy. This book particularly wants to show the importance of the border and the Southern Reach to the whole mystery of Area X. The way normal society interacts with it may be the point entirely.

Acceptance by Jeff VanderMeer

This final book of the trilogy provides some of the answers, but not all. I won't detail too much about it in order not to spoil the first two books, but it continues to be a fascinating meditation on our relationship to our environment, our past and each other. And there is also more Area X, too. These books are enormously rewarding and very clever and I would highly recommend them.

Ducks, Newburyport by Lucy Ellman

Here's a book that really splits people down the middle, and throughout my reading of it I swung wildly from loving it to hating it to (eventually) loving it again. It is about a housewife in Ohio who spends most of her days running a small baking business from home, and looking after her children, and it is about a thousand pages long. Most of the novel is in an stream of consciousness (though there are some time jumps and narrative breaks) as she thinks not only about her daily existence, but the daily politics of life in America - Trump, the #BlackLivesMatter movement, mass shootings - and also global issues, particularly climate change. Over and over again the phrase 'the fact that' is repeated, and often serves to split up separate thought processes or interrupt some narrative with a random fact, a headline, or a list. At times this can be confusing, mundane and boring. At others it can be all too relatable or even revelatory.

Ultimately I found this novel to be quite the achievement. Ellman successfully creates a unique mind, but also one which will speak to many about the current state of the world; she is unable to truly pause and reflect on any of the tragic moments either of her life or of the world around her, only fleetingly thinking about them as she continues on, trying to survive. And as the blurb puts it, it shows how we are 'sleepwalking into environmental disaster'. For many, this is the frustration of this novel. It is an endless list, a torrent of information, but very little reflection or analysis. Indeed, I'm usually in this group that wants more than just a reflection of the world in my book, especially when they are so overtly political like this one.

But then I think this novel has more form than it appears. The narrator's thoughts snag on certain things (the title is a bit of a reveal, for instance), and part of the joy of this novel is in following some of these eddies of thought throughout. The inclusion of short sections about a mountain lion eventually become relevant as you continue on, and the ending feels powerful (sometimes hard to do after a thousand pages). Perhaps this mind is even more specific than you suspect, and the clues are in her personal life, her past and her history. When you can see so many of your own contemporary worries on the page, I think perhaps its easy to forget that there is also a different kind of artistry going on in its analysis of this one mind, and this one story. At many moments I found myself writing in my notes - is this how people really think? Is it just this lady? Or is this also about narrative, and whether thought - particularly contemporary thought interspersed as it is with media headlines from around the world - can be narrated in this way or any other? And there's something funny going on with the timeline; it covers multiple days but she doesn't seem to *go to sleep and wake up* in any meaningful or timely way. So what is going on with time, here? It'd be worth a reread to find out. This is a big mammoth of a book, and the way isn't always easy, but to my mind it is a rewarding one.

Underland: A Deep Time Journey by Robert Macfarlane

If there's a book in these favourites that I'd recommend for right now, it'd probably be this one. It is a work of nature writing that - unsurprisingly - focuses on the underland of our world, from cave systems to underground cities to mining complexes to the network of fungi that underlies a forest to nuclear waste facilities. Macfarlane's voice is personal, accessible and eminently readable, but his thought process is thorough and nuanced. It is an incredibly accomplished book that draws not just on the biology of the natural world and underground life, but the history and the literary elements of writing about the underland, too. Even though it obviously touches on topics of climate change and doesn't shy away from difficult questions, there is something gentle in Macfarlane's writing that draws you in and out of your body to journey alongside him. If you are feeling cooped up at home, this book will transport you to otherworldly places, and I highly recommend it.

Lows

The Wise Man's Fear by Patrick Rothfuss (audio)

I found The Name of the Wind to be a little disappointing, but this was a particularly disappointing read (or listen). Nonetheless I pushed on to the end because sometimes I get this strange feeling about completing books, especially books I listen to. It just didn't feel right to give up.

But I should've. There were more of the same problems from the first novel (you can read my review here), but even worse because this book was even longer and we still went absolutely nowhere! Nowhere at all! And Kvothe is one of my least favourite protagonists-you're-supposed-to-like ever. I've got to say I can't recommend these two books, especially because nobody's really sure when Rothfuss is going to release the third and final instalment.

Dune by Frank Herbert

I really thought I was going to like this book, and then I didn't. I can't fully decide whether it was my problem or the book's problem, but it was probably a combination of both. I was reading it through some of the most intense periods of coronavirus change, and my concentration was low and I was feeling delicate - neither of which are good mind spaces for this book.

It is a science fiction classic from 1965, and it is set in an interstellar feudal society. Most of the action of this novel takes place on Arrakis (or Dune), a desert planet which produces the much coveted spice 'melange', which is extremely lucrative for its mindbending abilities and its ability to extend life. At the beginning of the novel the planet is changing hands between two families who have a bitter rivalry at the behest of the Emperor, and as you might imagine a sort of backstabbing war of attrition begins as a result. We follow Paul Atreides, who is robbed of his inheritance in the form of Arrakis, and becomes a sort of fugitive messiah for the indigenous population of this desert world.

Lots of people have problems with the dialogue and the characterisation in this book, including me. It is hyper-formalised and it doesn't flow at all (seriously, sometimes I wish I had a grammatician's eye so I could work out what is going on with sentence formation), and none of the characters feel believable, fleshed out or likable. Sometimes this sort of thing works (though I'm struggling to name any book right this second…) but in a book like this where the plot is complex and it is heavy on the world-building jargon, I found it very difficult to follow. Speaking of the world-building, you can't really argue with it: it's great. It's extremely well realised and fully thought through, but I just couldn't get past these other elements, like, at all. Plus there is some questionable borrowing from Middle Eastern cultures. Ultimately I found it to be a disappointment, but I'm (sort of) glad I read it because of its influence on what came after.

Everything in between

Exhalation: Stories by Ted Chiang

This is the second collection of Chiang's science fiction stories that I've read, having loved Stories of Your Life and Others last year. Once again Chiang's scope is broad, and I find he often writes quite unique stories even within the science fiction world, which can be difficult these days. I particularly loved the first two stories in this collection, 'The Merchant and the Alchemist's Gate' which looks at the nature of time, and 'Exhalation' which I found to be a moving reflection on the inevitability of death, the importance of community, and the complexity of mental processes. Nonetheless I found some of these stories didn't quite work for me, as if some of the thinking behind them didn't quite add up, or was a touch too shallow. And Chiang's reserved prose style sometimes hits the mark of being poignant, whilst at others feels overly clinical. Nonetheless I will continue to follow his work because I find it interesting and there's lots here to ponder.

Weather by Jenny Offill

This novel follows a librarian who finds herself the unofficial local therapist, is trying to maintain a good marriage, raise a son and look after her former addict brother. Set around 2016, she is also dealing with the emotional fallout of the election of Trump, and the effects it might have on the people around her. As I was reading this book I was constantly tempted to compare it to Ducks, Newburyport, because in many ways it, too, is looking at contemporary anxieties and worries through the eyes of a white woman who is a wife and a mother. However this novel couldn't be more different in form; it's made up of little snippets of the protagonist's life, and the language is lyrical and dreamlike. And all in all it's a speedy read. And I think that's kind of the problem; whilst Ducks has a lot going on that interacts with the sheer politics of it and its contemporary anxieties (at least in my view), this book feels surface-y and performative without having the depth to back it up, and is unfortunately a bit forgettable as a result. Nonetheless the writing is quite beautiful at times and her observation is good, so I'd be interested to read other work by Offill (her book Dept. of Speculation got fantastic reviews).

The Adventurer's Son: A Memoir by Roman Dial

This is a memoir that is focused on the disappearance of the author's son whilst he was adventuring alone in Costa Rica. Roman Dial is variously described online as a 'biologist' a 'veteran explorer' and a 'wilderness survivalist', and indeed details many of his own adventures in this book. His son Cody went missing going off trail in Costa Rica, and Dial naturally spends some time examining the guilt he feels at having raised his son to be inquisitive and daring in his own right. It is a heart-breaking story that focuses simply on the events of both Roman and Cody's lives and Roman's subsequent search in Costa Rica for him. It was a good read, though at times difficult to connect with because of its focus on events rather than feelings; there are few moments in which Dial processes grief or loss in anything less than a straightforward manner.

The City We Became by N. K. Jemisin

This book marks the beginning of a new trilogy from Jemisin, this time about cities. In this world, as cities mature they become instantiated in a person who becomes a sort of avatar of the city. In this case, the city is New York and he is fatally injured by the forces of white supremacy and gentrification. In order to save him, the avatars of each of the five boroughs of New York must work together. This book was a bit of a disappointment, which I am so sad to say because as you all know, I love Jemisin with all my heart. And I think that is partially because I'm not it's intended audience.

On the one hand this novel is action-packed, lively and very New York - a good antidote for the heavy and fantastical Broken Earth trilogy - but on the other it feels at times clichéd, the dialogue clunky and the ideas a little too black and white. In lots of ways it feels very Marvel-y, and superhero-based graphic novels are something Jemisin is very familiar with (I believe she is currently working on new Green Lanterns), but it's something I never find I connect with very well. There are some logical holes (with a concerning 'out' for the motivations of white supremacy!) which it's very possible Jemisin will patch with later novels; she often introduces whole new levels to her thinking over the course of the entire trilogy. For me, I would have wanted something that really explores what it means to embody a city, and a little more depth in that regard, but the plot really takes over from this in the book. It's possible that that would have come too close to things she explores in Broken Earth anyway (where the orogenes have control over the landscape). Either way, I didn't love this book and sort of had to force myself through it, but I will read anything else she ever publishes because she is a genius. Just maybe this one wasn't for me.