Books of the Year: 2013

Fiction

Rachel Kushner’s second novel The Flamethrowers is a restless, ambitious book taking in the modern art scene, capitalism and rebellion. Narrated by Reno, a perpetual outsider figure due to her class, background, nationality and gender, The Flamethrowers includes some magnificent, at times Gatsby-esque, set-pieces, and the narrative keeps improving the further you get into it, finding new depths and connections. Another second novel which impressed me was Cooking With Bones, by Jess Richards. A dystopian science fiction story (with recipes), the novel follows two sisters as they escape from the confines of an oppressive, climate-controlled capital city to find themselves in the rural community of Seachant. There is a hint of Atwood in Richards’s magical realist style, and her facility with dialect (also shown off in debut novel Snake Ropes) makes this a distinctive and rewarding read – it’s no wonder that blogger David Hebblethwaite called Richards ‘an important new voice in British fantastic literature’.

Dedalus books marked its thirtieth anniversary this year, and the release of Andrew Crumey’s The Secret Knowledge shows that the publisher is still going from strength to strength. A shadow history of the twentieth century, The Secret Knowledge is an intellectually ambitious novel, exploring the interaction of culture and commerce within a fast-paced ‘whodunnit’ structure. I have high hopes that this novel will gain recognition as a cult classic.   

My favourite satire of the year was Idiopathy, the debut novel by Sam Byers. Taking as his starting point an outbreak of ‘Bovine Idiopathic Entrancement’, Byers goes on to dissect the language of pop-psychology, the pointlessness of vast sections of the economy, and the ineffectual navel-gazing of the British left in excruciating detail, whilst also writing about human relationships with wit and insight. Idiopathy is a hilarious indictment of a society which reacts to horse-meat lasagnes and triple-dip recessions with shrugged shoulders and apathy.

Finally, it would be remiss not to finish this section without reference to Eleanor Catton’s Booker prize-winning The Luminaries. The novel’s size might be daunting at first, but Catton writes with a light touch, creating a broad panorama without ever getting bogged down in minutiae or period detail, and there’s a genuine air of suspense as the plot strands come together. With The Luminaries, Catton has created an elaborate, intricately-plotted multiple-perspective narrative, whilst never sacrificing readability or allowing her excellent prose to slip, a remarkable achievement.

Honourable mentions: The Gospel According to Cain by Courttia Newland, The Shock of the Fall by Nathan Filer, Whatever Happened to Harold Absalon by Simon Okotie and Magda, by Meike Ziervogel. 

Short Fiction

As contributor Jayne White noted earlier this month, 2013 has been a great year for short fiction, with further developments likely over the next twelve months as publishers look for new ways to promote the format. I’ve found myself reading more short fiction than probably any year before, and two collections in particular stood out. First was Rodge Glass’s travel-themed Lovesextravelmusik. Glass’s stories explore the impact of low-cost tourism on tourists and hosts alike, the way that travellers’ behaviour changes in new locations, and the effect that their presence (and money) can have on local cultures. Particularly enjoyable are the three ‘orientations’, satirical and knowing travel guides to Rome, Copenhagen and the Amazon, which playfully subvert the language of travel guides.

Joanna Walsh’s Fractals, meanwhile, was a series of short pieces focussing on the alienation and dissatisfaction of modern life, expressed through the experiences of isolated women who struggled to fit in to the roles ascribed to them by society. Particularly memorable is Hauptbanhof, the story of a woman who secretly takes up residence in Berlin’s main train station, which becomes a microcosm for the impersonal service industry culture of modern Europe.

Honourable mentions: The Iraqi Christ, by Hassim Blessin, and More Sawn-Off Tales by David Gaffney

Non-Fiction

There was a real resurgence of interest in The Great Gatsby following the release of Baz Luhrmann’s much hyped adaptation, and it’s no surprise that two of the most interesting non-fiction books of the year had an F Scott Fitzgerald connection. Sarah Churchwell’s Careless People told the story of Gatsby’s creation, finding a parallel to the relationship between Gatsby and Daisy in a previously forgotten murder mystery which dominated the American press at the time. Careless People is a lively read, with Fitzgerald’s lifestyle, and the jazz age he inhabited, supplying a constant stream of anecdotes, while Churchwell’s analysis of the novel itself is strong. Olivia Laing’s A Trip To Echo Spring also featured much discussion of Fitzgerald’s behaviour, as part of a wider analysis of the link between writing and alcoholism in American literature. Part travelogue, part memoir and part critical study, Echo Spring is provocative and stimulating, and has deservedly been nominated for a Costa Award.

On a more morbid note, two stand-out non-fiction publications were fixated with death. The Faithful Executioner by Joel F Harrington documents the career of Frantz Schmidt, official executioner of Nuremberg in the sixteenth century. With access to his personal diaries (a valuable find), Harrington is able to give psychological depth to a man charged with hastening the exits of 394 of his fellow citizens from the world, often in horrifically grisly rituals. The Faithful Executioner illustrates medieval concepts of honour and identity in a vivid, occasionally disturbing, account. In The Undiscovered Country, meanwhile, Carl Watkins examines British attitudes to death from the thirteenth century onwards, with excellent passages on Victorian religious art, the eccentric early enthusiasts for cremation, and the medieval monks who doubled up as connoisseurs and recorders of ghost stories.

Finally, John Higgs’s The Klf: Chaos, Magic and The Band That Burned a Million Pounds is a music biography unlike any other. Less concerned with the recorded output of The KLF than with the bizarre symbolism of their actions, and the waves of counter-cultural thoughts and conspiracy theories which inspired them, the book is fast-paced, intellectually exciting and packed with talking points. If Higgs can’t fully explain why the band decided to torch their earnings in a barn on Jura (and the band themselves can’t, so there’s no shame in that), then he probably gets as close as anyone to understanding the bizarre mix of influences which led up to the event.

Honourable mentions: Bedsit Disco Queen, by Tracey Thorn, and Fanny & Stella, by Neil McKenna