Can it
really have been 10 years since the Scooties debuted? While that milestone took
place during a year that didn’t allow me to read nearly as many books as usual
(pesky grad school), I can say that the works I did read this year were
universally great. In fact, I labored longer over the ranking (and omissions)
this year than perhaps any other edition. I hope for more of the same in 2017.
Without
further ado …
#1: “Ready
Player One,” by Ernest Cline
What I Say
Now:
Nothing
reeled me in like this book in 2016. Over an eight-day period, I immersed
myself completely into the text like I was logging into the OASIS. This book is
a not-too-far-off depiction of the rise of virtual reality in a world destroyed
by environmental degradation and lack of wealth distribution. I wouldn’t
consider the writing to be great, but this is a tremendous story that lends
itself easily to a (upcoming) movie.
Passages
to Remember:
"I forgot that my avatar was sitting in
Halladay's bedroom and that, in reality, I was sitting in my hideout, huddled
near the electric heater, tapping at the empty air in front of me, entering
commands on an imaginary keyboard. All of the intervening layers slipped away,
and I lost myself in the game within the game."
"It was the dawn of a new era, one where
most of the human race now spent all of their free time inside a
videogame."
"The collected knowledge, art, and
amusements of all human civilization were there, waiting for me. But gaining
access to all of that information turned out to be something of a mixed
blessing. Because that was when I found out the truth."
"It occurred to me then that for the
first time in as long as I could remember, I had absolutely no desire to log
back into the OASIS."
#2: “All
the King’s Men,” by Robert Penn Warren
What I Say
Now:
A
brilliant work that faded slightly at the end, this was an eminently quotable
beach read that dragged me away for hours. Halfway through, I came to the
realization that this was not a book about Boss Stark, the presumptive
protagonist; this was a story about Jack Burden and the circular arc of his
life in the pursuit of morality and self-realization.
Passages
to Remember:
"The end of man is knowledge, but there is one thing he
can't know. He can't know whether knowledge will save him or kill him. He will
be killed, all right, but he can't know whether he is killed because of the
knowledge which he has got or because of the knowledge which he hasn't got
and which if he had it, would save him. There's the cold in your stomach, but
you open the envelope, you have to open the envelope, for the end of man is to
know."
"A diamond ain't a thing in the world but a piece of
dirt that got awful hot."
"Graft is what he calls it when the fellows do it who
don't know which fork to use."
"Were we happy tonight because we were happy or
because once, a long time back, we had been happy? Was our happiness tonight
like the light of the moon, which does not come from the moon, for the moon is
cold and has no light of its own, but is reflected light from far away?"
"But something happens, or almost always happens, to
the gaiety, the brilliance, the communion. You remember the individual words
from the old language you spoke together, but you have forgotten the grammar.
You remember the steps of the dance, but the music isn't playing anymore. So
there you are."
#3. “1 Dead in Attic,” by Chris Rose
What I Say Now:
I read this one near the 10th anniversary of
Hurricane Katrina rewriting lives in New Orleans and surrounding areas. While
ostensibly a story of a natural disaster and its ripple effects, I found it to
be an emotional tale of a staggeringly talented writer who lost pieces of who
he was, piece by piece, in passing floodwaters. This collection of columns
comprised a very public recitation of someone descending into depression, and
while the conclusion to Rose’s story has yet to be written, it unquestionably
cost him an unspeakable amount to share these stories.
Passages to Remember:
"The prevailing sentiment among such
folks was that New Orleans--bless her charming, offbeat little powdered-sugar
heart--was not worth fixing."
"You can regulate our smoking and
regulate our music and--hard to believe this day has come--you can even
regulate our go-cups.
"But you cannot regulate soul. You cannot
legislate funk. And you cannot pass an ordinance that makes us ordinary.
"The best things about us will never
change."
"We dance even if there's no radio. We
drink at funerals. We talk too much and laugh too loud and live too large, and
frankly, we're suspicious of others who don't."
"Fly the flag. Be in that number. This is
our battle to win or lose. Hopefully, of one mind and one message. That we are
still here. And that we are still New Orleans."
"What doesn't drown burns."
"To the doctors, therapists, and
counselors who have tried so valiantly to put me back together again.
"And to New Orleans, my sweet, bedeviling
mistress; cunning, baffling, powerful.
"Never surrender."
#4. “Tar Baby,” by Toni Morrison
What I Say Now:
There are few writers I respect more than Morrison, and her
prose is perhaps at its strongest in this one. The pacing and tempo are
bolstered by a fragmentary style that is truly admirable. I had an initial
qualm about the lack of context at the start, but it dawned on me that that
trait helped spin me into the story. Morrison positions setting as a character,
drawing out the characteristics with sensual, evocative, impactful descriptors.
Passages to Remember:
"He knew backs, studied them because
backs told all ... A back where the pain of every canker, every toothache,
every missed train home, empty mailbox, closed bus depot, do-not-disturb and
this-seat-taken sign since God made water came to rest."
"Let go a woman who was not only a woman
but a sound, all the music he had ever wanted to play, a world and a way of
being in it? Let that go? 'I can't,' he said.
'I can't.'"
"For if he loved and lost this woman
whose sleeping face was the limit his eyes could safely behold and whose wakened
face threw him into confusion, he would surely lose the world."
"You loved my
son, didn't you?" It was more a statement than a question.
"I love anything small that needs
it," said Ondine.
#5. “Leftovers,” by Richard Perrota
What I Say Now:
This one was a very close translation to the terrific HBO
series, but this was still a worthwhile read. Using solid, utilitarian writing,
this book is powered by strength of story and the undeniable draw of ambiguity.
The ending refuses to provide an easy out in a world that is so confusing and
absent of easy outs. It asks us to consider what happens to the human psyche
when nothing is guaranteed or certain anymore. The talk of the comfort level
being day to day persists, but when that is really tested and demonstrated—when
the idea of the future is rendered moot so definitively, how do personal
interaction and societal mores change?
Passages to Remember:
"We all basically live in a world that we
define by the people who have disappeared."
"They were never close—never socialized
or exchanged more than the usual parental small talk—but there was always that
secret between them, the memory of a summer night, the awareness of a road not
taken."
"What he was going to miss was her smile
in the morning, and the hopeful feeling she gave him, the conviction that fun
was still possible, that you were more than the sum of what had been taken from
you. It was hard to think about giving that up, especially when there was
nothing waiting to replace it."
Honorable Mention (in 10 words or less):
“The Prince,” by Niccolo Machiavelli: Undeniable classic
peppered with quotes that’ve stood test of time.
“The Day the World Came to Town,” by Jim DeFede. Fascinating
read of small Newfoundland town harboring diverted 9/11 passengers.
“End of Watch,” by Stephen King. Finale of detective trilogy
is unmemorable—unheard of for King.
“Apocalypticon,” by Clayton Smith: Sneaky, comedic
apocalypse story falls short despite emotional, redemptive ending.
“Unhappenings,” by Edward Aubrey. Complexity compromises
fascinating premise, though absorbing and fast-paced.
“Girl in the Spider’s Web,” by David Lagercrantz:
Severely limited book unsuccessfully continues late Stieg Larsson’s Millennium
Series.
