As 2014 wound down and everybody in the world composed their “best-of” lists, I consulted my fabulous roster of WWR contributors about the best book they read in the past year. It didn’t have to be a 2014 title, though for most of the gang, it was; a lot of the people just couldn’t choose (though several contributors spoke reverently but off the record about an LJ Best Book of 2014, David Nicholls’s Us). And then there are we happy few, those of us who buckled down and made a choice. With that done, we’re ready for the tomes of 2015. Bring ‘em on!
Mahnaz Dar, Associate Editor, Reviews, School Library Journal
This year my love of Upstairs Downstairs–esque English dramas (think Downton Abbey and Gosford Park) led me to pick up Kazuo Ishiguro’s The Remains of the Day (Faber & Faber, 1989). This story of a repressed English butler looking back on his life and his actions—or lack of action—touched me both intellectually and emotionally. Though it’s a slim volume, it’s poignant, even heartbreaking, and definitely has earned its place as my favorite for 2014.
Kate DiGirolomo, Editorial Assistant, LJ
I’m picking a Rainbow Rowell book—who’s shocked? Anyone? Anyone at all? I feel like I’ve pretty much built my WWR career on waxing poetic about the national treasure that is Rowell. I could have happily picked any of her novels for this, but in order to stick to the theme of the best book I read this year I’ve gone with Landline (St. Martin’s), which I discussed in both a previous entry and even with the lady herself. To prevent repeating myself I’ll just say this: reading one of her books is like having a long conversation with a best friend—prepare to laugh until you wheeze, cry until you’re spent, and take comfort as you shout “You do that? Oh my God, I do that, too!” Rowell has mastered the art of idiosyncrasies, and I have personally found my comrades in her characters.
I thought about ending with a profound quotation from Landline about the challenges of maintaining a marriage, but I don’t really understand the challenges of maintaining a marriage. But what I do understand is being enamored by the physical features of the male species to the point of distraction and the awesome use of parenthetical writing (and it’s these little details that give Rowell a special place in my literary heart).
He smiled as he made up her plate. Stir-fry. Salmon. Kale. Other green things. He crushed a handful of cashews in his fist and sprinkled them on top, then set the plate in front of her.
When Neal smiled, he had dimples like parentheses—stubbly parentheses. Georgie wanted to pull him over the breakfast bar and nose at his cheeks. (That was her standard response to Neal smiling.) (Though Neal probably wouldn’t know that.)
Liz French, Senior Editor, Reviews, LJ
It was fun to research past WWR columns and see what I read and discussed, as well as look through some of the reviews I wrote for LJ (Maureen Corrigan’s The Great Gatsby treatment, So We Read On; Megan Abbott’s deliriously breathtaking The Fever), but my pick for this year’s best is Marlon James’s A Brief History of Seven Killings (Riverhead), which my colleague Barbara Hoffert picked for consideration for LJ’s Best Books 2014 (spoiler alert: it made it!). The book is brutal, intricate, layered, complex, multifaceted. It’s all the good adjectives. I couldn’t stop talking about it—my coworkers can attest wearily to that. It’s almost sociological in its scope but that’s damning the book with faint praise. James never loses his footing while guiding you through the intersecting lives and times of a large cast of characters, from the Jamaican war lords and their boy soldiers to Rolling Stone stringers to CIA operatives to desperate hangers-on in singer Bob Marley’s orbit. His knowledge of music and culture of those times (1970s and 1980s) is impeccable as well. It’s all the more chilling when mixed with political violence, poverty, and desperation. This is the book I keep evangelizing about to friends and family, so it’s my pick for best of 2014.
Lisa Peet, Associate Editor, News & Features, LJ
My favorite book of 2014 was Carlene Bauer’s Frances and Bernard (Houghton Harcourt, 2013)—a small and fairly quiet epistolary novel, presented as a series of letters between two writers based loosely on Flannery O’Connor and Robert Lowell. (The two did in fact meet at Yaddo, a retreat for artists located in Saratoga Springs, NY, in the 1950s and struck up a mutual admiration society, and there are aspects of Frances and Bernard that are faithful to their models—shared Catholicism, a certain literary high-mindedness, and Lowell’s drinking, womanizing, and mania. But I don’t think it needs to be read with these equivalences in mind, and in fact I found it freeing to allow Bauer her inspiration and let it go at that.) What I loved about the novel wasn’t necessarily the plot or the action but how deeply pleasurable the act of reading it was. It made me want to be a better writer and a better person, especially in ways in which these qualities intersect: to write more actual pen-and-paper letters, answer my email more thoughtfully, write in longhand more often, and debate important things with people I love without ever edging over into annoyance. Even better, it made me feel as though I could, which is no small feat. Best to have some stamps and stationery on hand before starting this one, because you’ll have to write someone a letter before you’re done.
Henrietta Verma, Editor, Reviews, LJ
I have two favorite books this year, by one author. They are Donal Ryan’s The Spinning Heart and The Thing About December, both from Steerforth Press. Ryan’s language is just gorgeous, and his stories of life in post–Celtic Tiger Ireland are spot on and wrenching. The protagonists of both books are decent young men who find themselves at the mercy of mean-spirited townspeople who are all too recognizable. Among the heartache is plenty of love and laughs, too. In short, do yourself a favor and pick up these unforgettable titles.
Wendy Xu, Editorial Assistant, Junior Library Guild
My top book of the year would have to be Free Food for Millionaires (Grand Central) by Min Jin Lee! It’s not a recent title—it was first published in 2007, but I keep reading it and rereading it (and am reading it with my book club now).
Casey Han, the Americanized daughter of Korean immigrants, has just graduated from Princeton University and gotten kicked out of her parents’ house for talking back to her dad. While the novel starts with Casey, it’s written in a third-person omniscient point of view that also veers into the life of everyone she meets, both major and minor. While it gets kind of navel-gazey at times, it’s probably the most relatable novel I’ve ever read on the immigrant struggle without being overly sentimental or tragic (which is a major problem I have with novelists such as Amy Tan). Other people have compared Free Food for Millionaires to George Eliot’s Middlemarch, which I’ve never read, but the aesthetic (although it takes place in the 1990s) and the characters remind me of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby.
