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I haven’t read nearly as many books in 2019 as I would have liked to.
Writing novels does weird things to my brain, and I go through phases where the very idea of reading is exhausting and overwhelming, and then suddenly I’m ready again and I’ll tear through a bunch in a row. One of my goals in 2020 is to read more consistently (I am thinking of doing one of those reading challenges – can anyone recommend how/where to do this?), but despite my lower-than-usual book count, I still have some firm favourite reads of 2019.
From crime to classics, a non-fiction book that changed the way I see creativity, and (hopefully you’ll forgive me for sneaking this one in) even a play, it’s a varied list, and one I hope will inspire your own reading.
Big Magic by Elizabeth Gilbert
I discovered my local library this year – how could I have forgotten what incredible places libraries are? – and one of the first books I spotted on the shelves was Big Magic.
Now, it needs to be said that I really didn’t enjoy Eat, Pray, Love (not ragging on anyone who did, it just wasn’t for me) so I was hesitant to pick up another book by the same author. But a few people had told me it was worth a read, and hey, it was a library book, so it was free. I gave it a chance.
Holy moly! This book was an eye-opener for me. I’m not sure if I just needed that message at that specific time, but it changed the way I see creativity and ideas, and immediately after reading it, I came up with multiple book ideas, which is a miracle because I honestly struggle to come up with one a year.
It’s a book I’m going to buy for myself because I will re-read it again and again in years to come. If you struggle with creativity, don’t think of yourself as a creative person, or believe that creativity should be a painful exercise … this book is for you!
Daisy Jones and the Six by Taylor Jenkins Reid
If you read the Christmas gift guide I wrote last week, you’ll be sensing a theme here. I am truly obsessed with Daisy Jones and the Six.
The thing that blew me away was how clever the storytelling was. It reads like an epic music documentary, following band members and friends and family and colleagues and basically anyone who was around during the glory years of fictional band Daisy Jones and the Six.
As you’d expect from a good rock ‘n’ roll documentary, there’s plenty of drama, bickering, sex and drugs, destruction, hype and, of course, glamour.
The descriptions – of Daisy, of the album art, of photos that were snapped of this band – are written so vividly that you will probably find yourself – as I did – Googling to try to see them for yourself. If that’s not genius writing, I don’t know what is.
Call Me Evie by J.P. Pomare
I visited Adelaide in March to research Like Mother, Like Daughter, and my stay happened to coincide with the incredible Adelaide Writers’ Week.
My sister visited the book tent while we were there and picked up a copy of Call me Evie, giving it to me just before I left to come back home.
I’d never heard of the author, or the book, and so I let it sit on my bedside table for a few months (because, shamefully, I’m a sucker for marketing hype … lesson learned!), but I eventually picked it up one day, and WOW.
I was hooked after the first chapter, and it just kept getting better. It was twisty, dark, and deeply unsettling. I had no idea who to trust, and when I thought I had the twists all figured out, I was proven wrong time and time again. Set (mostly) in rural New Zealand, the sense of place in Call me Evie is spectacular.
Great job on that one, sis. Thanks for making me read something new!
Mine by Clare Empson
If you haven’t already read Him, which was one of the best books I read in 2018, I urge you to buy it immediately, and I dare you not to let your heart be absolutely shattered by the end.
Although it was marketed as a crime book (and it definitely is one), it’s also a dark romance, and Clare’s second book, Mine, is in the same genre.
It’s another beautiful, heartbreaking (seriously, this author makes me cry like no one else) love story, with a dark and unsettling undertone, and a simmering sense of mystery throughout. It’s told in two eras, with the storyline in the 70s brimming with colour and flavour and sexiness.
I don’t want to give too much away, but I will tell you that Empson is an absolutely spectacular writer, and you’ll want to jump through the pages to be part of the world she’s created.
The Taking of Annie Thorne by C.J. Tudor
I’m an absolute wimp, and I therefore don’t ever read horror.
However, I read The Chalk Man a couple of years ago (it had the same publication day as The Guilty Wife, so I picked it up while I was out stalking my own book that day) and was blown away by how creepy and nostalgic it was (I featured it as a gift idea for fans of Stranger Things in this post).
So when The Taking of Annie Thorne came out this year, I had to muster the courage to read it, because I knew it would be brilliant. Just read the tagline and you’ll know what I mean:
“The worst day of his life wasn’t when his sister went missing. It was the day she came back …”
I’ve got goosebumps.
It was every bit as great as I expected it to be. I made the terrible mistake of reading it while I was home alone for a few days, and massively creeped myself out by letting my imagination run wild every time I heard a noise, but aside from the terror, I loved every moment of this page-turner. In fact, I liked it even more than The Chalk Man, even though it was creepier and far scarier than anything I’d usually subject myself to.
Even if you don’t usually read horror, I highly recommend this one (and I’m already excited for The Other People, coming next year).
Darling by Rachel Edwards
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I mentioned Darling in this blog post earlier this year, and since then it’s stayed firmly in my favourite reads of 2019.
Darling is a psychological thriller, with twists and turns and plenty to keep you on the edge of your seat. I pride myself on guessing endings, but I absolutely could not pick how this one was going to end – it was clever and surprising in so many ways.
But as well as being a brilliant crime novel, it’s also a post-Brexit tale that tackles issues of racism in the UK and the current political climate through the delicate relationship between Darling and her stepdaughter Lola.
Rachel Edwards handles sensitive issues with skill and empathy, and her writing is just flawless, with characters that jump off the page. A must-read.
All the Rage by Cara Hunter
I’ve seen Cara Hunter’s books in the charts before, but have never got around to reading one, until I was sent All the Rage by Cara’s publisher, Penguin.
I didn’t realise it was book 4 in a series, but that didn’t ruin the story for me (I’ll definitely be going back to read the other three now though) – this particular one comes out next week, so if you’re already a fan you don’t have long to wait, and if you haven’t read Close to Home, In the Dark and No Way Out, now’s your chance!
What I loved most about this book is that, although it’s a police procedural – a genre I don’t generally love as much as other types of crime – it was totally different to any other police procedural I’d ever read. It was pacy, told from multiple points of view, and featured snippets of news stories, social media, emails and even trial transcripts that kept the story racing along at breakneck speed.
I can’t tell you a lot without giving too much away, but I will say that the issues covered in All the Rage are incredibly relevant, and deeply chilling.
Unmaking a Murder by Graham Archer
I was so impacted by this book that I wrote a whole blog post about it.
I won’t repeat the whole post here, but I will say that if you’re fascinated by true crime stories and tales of miscarriages of justice, you will race through Unmaking a Murder. It’s based on a case from Adelaide, Australia, and it’s as shocking and unbelievable as any of the Netflix documentaries that have us all so gripped.
Dracula by Bram Stoker
There are a lot of classics that I’ve never read.
Blame dodgy Aussie education, or the fact that I was far too busy devouring literally every single Sweet Valley High book that I could get my hands on, but either way, I’ve missed a lot of books that most people have read.
When I visited Dracula’s castle in Romania in January, everyone on my tour was talking about the book like it was the latest season of Bake Off and everyone naturally knew what they were talking about. Not me.
So when I found the world’s prettiest bookshop in Bucharest, I went straight for the classics section and bought myself a copy of Dracula.
It was so good! And not at all what I was expecting. But I totally see why it’s a classic, unlike some (Howard’s End, I’m looking at you).
No Exit by Jean-Paul Sartre
Am I cheating by putting a play in this list? Who cares? I loved it.
I bought the 1944 script for No Exit for research (but I don’t want to give anything away by saying why it’s research) and about halfway through this French play about hell, I shouted ‘It’s The Good Place!’
Sure enough, The Good Place creator Mike Schur admits that as he was developing the idea for his motherforking amazing Netflix show, he realised it was a really advanced version of No Exit, in which ‘hell is other people’.
It’s a short play, all set in one room, which has three damned souls locked inside it, each picked specifically to torture one of the others. It’s claustrophobic, clever, at times funny, and always uncomfortable, but well worth a read, especially for fans of The Good Place.
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