Like many Oxford students, my reading during term time consists largely of dry peer-reviewed articles. Luckily, the endless prospects of summer always seem to revive my reading-for-pleasure spirit. This long vac holds many fond memories of laying on a beach, book in hand, with not a faculty reading list to be found. So in a desperate attempt to extend the holiday, here are the best books I read this summer.
Bliss Montage, Ling Ma
A compact collection of short stories, Bliss Montage takes you on a surrealist rollercoaster. The stories are weird and unsettling at times, devastating at others. Some I adored, others I finished thinking only: “What is going on?”. There are Yetis, live burials, horror pregnancies, and many ex-boyfriends. Throughout it all, Ma retains her detached yet incisive writing style first exhibited in her debut novel Severance. Standout stories include “Peking Duck”, where a writer attempts to retell a story from her childhood, and “Oranges”, in which the protagonist decides to follow home an ex-boyfriend; and “G”, where two friends reconnect over a recreational drug. These stories alone are grounds for praising the collection. It was, however, difficult to discern the point of other stories– though you could blame it on reader ignorance… All of Ma’s protagonists are Asian-American women and the stories, naturally, intertwine the Asian-American experience (think relationships with immigrant parents and homelands) with their primary plotlines. The similarity in protagonists tended to blend the stories – if not in their plots, at least in the perspective from which they’re told.
James, Percival Everett
James is an imaginative retelling of Mark Twain’s classic The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, told from the perspective of Huck’s companion, the runaway slave Jim. Everett works masterfully to maintain the original atmosphere of Huck Finn, suffocatingly humid backswamps and all, while also introducing new plotlines that fully flesh out the character of Jim (Twain’s caricature portrayal of Jim leaves much room for improvement). Many stereotypes of enslaved people( including dialect, religion, education, etc.) are cleverly flipped on their heads– a subtle comment on the legacy of stereotypes. Everett does a fantastic job of underscoring just how much danger enslaved people faced in the American South. Something as trivial as stealing a pencil could mean harrowing consequences. A current of modernity underlies the novel so that some of the character’s thoughts and actions seem to be a product of the 21st century rather than the 19th. This detracts slightly from the historical immersion but feels fitting for our current cultural atmosphere. Some familiarity with Twain’s original story enhances the reading experience, though James can no doubt be read as a stand-alone.
Eileen, Otessa Moshfegh
Moshfegh novels are for the girls with crumbs in their beds. Eileen is no exception. This novel is essentially an extended character study with a side of unhinged, maniacal plot thrown in. Set in a dilapidated New England town known only as X-ville, the story follows the reclusive and miserable Eileen (the titular character) as she becomes intoxicated with the glamorous and mysterious Rebecca St. James. Eileen is about repression, self-destruction, revenge, and obsession (not necessarily in that order). Moshfegh’s writing is sharp and well-paced, painted over with the blackest humor. Her novels are the poster children of off-kilter contemporary fiction. Despite their insanity, Moshfegh’s novels are deeply relatable; that’s precisely what makes them addictive. Control freaks will find uncomfortable resonance in Eileen’s character. The main plot is secondary to Eileen’s character development as a whole, resulting in a storyline that culminates in somewhat of a lackluster ending. The suspense building up to the climax, however, is masterfully done.
Dishonorable Mention: Malibu Rising, Taylor Jenkins Reid.
A bit of criticism before the final review– Malibu Rising was by far my least favorite read of the summer. Set in 1980s California, the book takes place on the day of Nina Riva’s infamous summer party, alternating between the POVs of Nina and her three siblings. While Malibu Rising radiates sunkissed, beachy vibes, the actual contents of the story leave much to be desired. Rather than fully realized characters, the people of Malibu Rising are little more than clichés. There’s the high-achieving model who bears secret troubles, the cool surfer guy who also has a secret, the overlooked younger sister with yet another secret– you get the gist. The book is also too readable. The writing is mostly “tell”; you can almost predict the next sentence coming (an issue I’ve also noticed in Reid’s other books). However, I do have to thank this book for keeping me company while bedridden with the flu. At the core of this novel is a complex story of familial bonds that could’ve packed some real punch. However, without robust writing and characters, Malibu Rising falls flat.
My Brilliant Friend, Elena Ferrante, trans. Ann Goldstein
I first became aware of My Brilliant Friend when it came in first place on the NYTimes’ ‘The 100 Best Books of the 21st Century’ list. Always a sucker for the NYTimes Book Review, I ran to my local library to grab it. Even before I finished reading this novel, I knew it completely deserved this spot. Originally writing in Italian, Ferrante crafts a true masterpiece. My Brilliant Friend revolves around the lives of lifelong friends Elena and Lila as they grow up amidst the poverty and violence of 1950s Naples. Chronicling their lives from children to teenagers, My Brilliant Friend is the first novel of the Neapolitan quartet. The girls are both innocent and hardened, concerned with boys and dolls as much as they are with murder and familial violence. Ferrante’s writing is excellent: her portrayal of female friendship is raw, her description of Naples equal parts beautiful and tragic. High praise must also be given to Goldstein as a translator; My Brilliant Friend is one of the most stunning English novels I’ve ever read. The prose sweeps you up in a wave, carrying the reader from one paragraph to the next. It’s impossible to put down. I can also attest that the second and third novels in the quartet are just as stunning– building more on the political and social changes Italy underwent in the second half of the 20th century. With rich descriptions of Italian beaches interwoven throughout, it’s also a perfect summer read. Simply put, My Brilliant Friend is brilliant.
Though we are now well into autumn, part of me can’t resist naming summer as the best reading season. Summer makes room for everything: whether that’s the tried and true beach read; the 700 page classic you reattempt every July; or the mystery that keeps you up until 3 am. And while I’m sure we’ve all got that dreaded Outlook back-log reminding us of our Michaelmas reading lists, I hope we can all carry a bit of that reading-for-pleasure spirit into the coming months.
This post was originally published on here
