If there’s any single word to describe my 2016 reading list, it has to be “challenge”. Starting off the year with Leo Tolstoy’s infamous War and Peace I felt like I had laid down the gauntlet to myself, to really push the borders of my literary comfort zone; and naturally, with an act like Tolstoy’s to follow, I could hardly resist picking for my “Big Reads” of 2016 some of the most fiendish and formidable giants of literature – namely, Moby Dick, Don Quixote, Anna Karenina and Ulysses.
I must admit, part of the attraction of taking on this reading list was in the chance to smugly say I’ve read the books no one else would touch. But it was also about testing my resolve when it came to daunting tasks easily put aside – after all, if I can work through even the most constipated parts of Moby Dick, everything else should be gravy. Surprisingly, given my tendency to inhale literature, my only experience with books of this size has come from either epic fantasy or Alexandre Dumas’ The Count of Monte Cristo, so to have taken on these five and come out smiling is a big achievement. And, like with most challenges, now it’s over it’s hard to see why it looked so scary in the first place.
I was initially planning on carrying on this “Big Reads” mantra through 2017, perhaps with Les Misérables or even Finnegans Wake, but as much as I’ve enjoyed the challenge this year, I’m feeling pretty pooped now I’ve come to the end. In 4,051 pages, I’ve fought Napoleon, hunted the White Whale, jousted my way across Spain, scandalised Russian high society, and embarked upon the mother of all Dublin pub crawls – I think I ought to take a breather before jumping into the French Revolution or going another round with James Joyce.
Of course, I can’t talk about literary challenges without mentioning the start of my Booktrotting World Tour earlier this year. I’m definitely starting to feel the full scope of this project now – after five months of reading and writing, I’m still only just wrapping up the first leg in Latin America – but as we continue globally down the slope of ignorance and isolationism, this personal literary journey of mine feels even more important than it did in the summer.
So far, the hardest part of Booktrotting has not been reading and writing about the books themselves, but in finding them to begin with. I always said when I started that I didn’t want to settle for the “obvious” reads – no Murakami or García Márquez – but the problem with delving into obscurity is that it can make finding affordable, in-print translations a total nightmare.
Still, in a way that’s largely the point of all this: I want to be pushed into reading the books and authors you won’t stumble across on a Tesco bestsellers shelf, and if possible help others find them too. And in hindsight, I’m glad I made that decision, as it’s led to some incredible discoveries so far – not least of which my Colombian read, Evelio Rosero’s The Armies, which has to rival War and Peace for my book of the year.
Speaking of discoveries, I’ve also been taking more chances on contemporary books this year rather than just sticking to the classics I knew to be good. Anna North’s The Life and Death of Sophie Stark was easily one of my books of the summer, and Ottessa Moshfegh’s Eileen was the perfect wintry counterpart. And though not entirely new to me, the Finnish sci-fi writer Emmi Itäranta really hooked me with her sophomore novel The City of Woven Streets, and will definitely be someone I look out for in the future.
I didn’t read as many non-fiction books as I’d planned to this year (although I did read plenty of non-fiction in the sense of taking a genuine interest in the news and politics for once). Of the small number I did get round to reading, I particularly enjoyed Neil Oliver’s A History of Ancient Britain – archaeology and prehistory has somehow never managed to excite me before, but Oliver gets so enthused bringing it all to life it’s impossible not to get swept up with him.
But where my non-fiction target didn’t work out, I did end up reading a lot more graphic novels than expected, thanks to the happy combination of a sick day and a Sky 1 Supergirl marathon reviving my childhood love of comic books. At the moment, I’m just getting into the Kamala Khan Ms Marvel series and loving every page of it – but more on that here. I’d really love to explore what graphic novels can do outside of the superhero remit in the future, so if you have any recommendations on that front please do hit me up.