By Carole Reedy

The best moments in reading are when you come across something – a thought, a feeling, a way of looking at things – which you had thought special and particular to you. Now here it is, set down by someone else, a person you have never met, someone even who is long dead. And it is as if a hand has come out and taken yours.
— Alan Bennett, The History Boys (2004)

The long hours I spend reading and thinking about reading are certainly disproportionate to my other daily activities. What I remember most about a book is not so much the plot or even the characters, but rather the way I felt while reading it: the compulsion to keep reading, the heightened emotions evoked by a character’s glance or the fevered pace of a city or a raging river.

I’m convinced that treasured book memories are made from good stories. As Brian Doyle, author of one of the books listed below, so eloquently put it, “The best way to celebrate a people is to share their stories. Stories are who we are, what we are made of” (Chicago: A Novel, 2016).

Long Island Compromise, by Taffy Brodesser-Akner (2024). This chronicle of a New York family is disturbing, realistic, and so vividly frightening at times that the reader may actually share the physical pain of the characters.

The ability of the author to describe the suffering of a drug addict, the lack of self-confidence from uncertainty, or a young sibling’s disgust at the actions of her wealthy family are all brought fully to life in this wide-ranging story.

Brodesser-Akner was the author of the popular novel Fleishman Is in Trouble (2019) which was made into a TV mini-series with Jesse Eisenberg (2022-23). From my point of view, both novels can be categorized as unputdownable and emotionally draining.

Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow, by Gabrielle Zevin (2023). This emotionally packed novel has been lauded by young and old alike. And even though I’m in the latter cohort, I can attest to the brilliant rendering of the book’s three young gamers over the decades this novel spans.

Perhaps you, as was I, are not current on the lives of gamers or of gaming in general. How can I read, let alone praise, a book whose subject is alien to my experience of life (though isn’t this part of what drives us to read)? That was my initial response to a friend who recommended this book. She encouraged me to try it and I’m grateful I trusted her judgment and followed her advice.

In this book, deeply engrossing characters and their friendships grow over time. Their astute thought processes so enchanted me that I immediately read more novels by this young author.

Zevin’s The Storied Life of A.J. Fikry (2014) should be added to this list of favorite books. I challenge a lover of reading to find fault with this little treasure about a small bookstore on a small island.

Tomás Nevinson, by Javier Marías (2023). This is, sadly, Marías’ final novel. His illustrious writing career was cut short at the age of 70 after a case of pneumonia. Marías’ lengthy sentences and attention to detail consistently delight serious readers and grammarians alike. There is no other writer like him.

One wisely will read the penultimate novel, Berta Isla: A Novel (2019), first, as it sets the stage and plot for this thriller. The duality of two terror organizations, Ireland’s IRA and Spain’s ETA, provides all the color necessary for a tense plot. The characters, as always in a Marías novel, are finely honed.

Praise also goes to Marías’ loyal and constant English translator Margaret Jull Costa, in whom he had the greatest belief. Marías himself spoke excellent English and yet he entrusted this brilliant translator with his creations.

Palimpsest: A Memoir, by Gore Vidal (1995). For many of us, Vidal holds a special place on the bookshelf as a prominent writer of novels, journalist, magazine contributor, political observer, and bon vivant of society in the last half of the 20th century. His wit has consistently transported him to the front of any event or issue.

Vidal, famous for his strict care with words and phrasing, most definitely describes this book not as an autobiography, but as a memoir – a book of memories. Throughout, as one memory sparks others, he precisely recounts the adventure of his talented and privileged life and the famous and prestigious people with whom he rubbed elbows.

There is no greater pleasure than a sentence or phrase penned by Vidal.

Erasure: A Novel, by Percival Everett (2001) looks at societal judgements from a different perspective.

Everett’s main character feels misunderstood not by the white majority but by those in his own community who accuse him of “not being black enough.” Indeed, the subject matter and style of the literature he creates are thought by his fellow people of color not to be typical of them, and thus a betrayal.

What follows depicts the sad state of the publishing industry and a conundrum for our protagonist. How to change his image within his community and what price fame? His daring attempt to address the issue in a freshly written book – complete with twists, turns, humorous surprises, and the public’s response – will stun you.

Everett’s most recent work, James: A Novel (2024) has just won the National Book Award for this year. James was also shortlisted for this year’s Booker Prize.

Snap, by Belinda Bauer (2018) was a surprise choice for the long list by The Booker Prize committee the year it was published.

“It’s the sort of commercial fiction that tends to outsell the rest of the longlist put together but which the Man Booker judges are supposedly too snotty and set in their literary ways to consider,” writes Johanna Thomas Corr in The New Statesman (August 29, 2018). Nonetheless, the committee proved her wrong and nominated Snap for the long list.

This compelling story is based on a true incident: the kidnapping and murder of Marie Wilks, 22, seven months’ pregnant with her fourth child, on the M50 motorway in England. The pace of the text, the heart-stopping emotion, and the rendering of the story of the children left behind places Bauer among the finest of crime writers.

The character depictions are spot on, the writing concise and colorful, and the plot suspenseful. A delightful surprise “find” for this reader.

Knife: Meditations after an Attempted Murder, by Salman Rushdie (2024). Special recognition must be accorded Rushdie, a prolific writer of fascinating stories, for his consistent courage in the wake of attempts to restrain his literary pursuits.

The world watched and lived with the years-long fatwa imposed on the author by the Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini after publication of Rushdie’s novel The Satanic Verses (1988).

More recently, Rushdie narrowly survived a knife attack in Connecticut. Knife is the elegantly rendered story of that attack and Rushdie’s unexpected recovery in the midst of his family and dear friends, many of whom are prominent writers and to whom he pours out his sincere emotion and thanks.

This most personal and desperate of stories is deservedly on many best-book lists this year.

Chicago: A Novel, by Brian Doyle (2016). I brimmed with pride while reading this highly personal story of a young man who spends just five seasons in the Second City.

Chicago is the city that owns me. It is my identity, and this book allows the Windy City to shine, if sometimes through the smog, rush-hour traffic, and the usual disruptions of big city living.

Here’s a personal story of a young man who begins his working life at a Catholic magazine in Chicago’s Loop. The days and years follow him through the city’s neighborhoods and more intimately through life at his apartment building, which is filled with eccentric tenants.

The writing is personal, witty, and bursting with the conflicting emotions and excitement of a newcomer to a grand city.

For me, this book was the most satisfying surprise of my year’s reading.

Anita Monte Laughs Last, by Xóchitl González (2024). Here is a story that satisfies on many levels: artistically, politically, and socially.

It tells the tale of two women artists a generation apart, their similarities and differences within the art world and their relationships with men and society. I’m not a fan of magical realism, but González’ use of it in the second half of the book is cerebral, bitingly humorous, and pitch perfect.

If you haven’t read González’s first book, you’re in for a double treat. Olga Dies Dreaming (2021) is the story of a Puerto Rican family in New York that includes anarchist parents, a politically ambitious son, and Olga, who struggles with her own identity as a Latina professional woman.

Both books are richly entertaining while teaching us about our southern neighbors, Cuba and Puerto Rico.

Death at the Sign of the Rook: A Jackson Brodie Book, by Kate Atkinson (2024). A reader’s first reaction to this book might be one of merriment. Many have told me that they laughed out loud while reading it.

Art theft, suspicious caregivers, and an old, privileged family are the entertaining elements that make this a rich and enjoyable read. A troupe of actors adds another humorous element. One friend, however, did share that although engaging and humorous, it was “a little too Agatha Christie” for her. That may intrigue you.

Repeat readers of Atkinson’s novels know to expect the unexpected from her. Subject matter and tone vary from book to book, making each a delightful surprise.

Now we enter 2025, which we hope will deliver a bookbag filled with new novels to while away our hours. On that note, I leave 2024 thinking of Elif Shafak, the Turkish writer and essayist, who reminds us that “We are living in a world in which there is way too much information, but little knowledge and even less wisdom.”

Perhaps our world’s storytellers will rectify the balance in the future.