2018 In Review: And The Winner Is...

Ok, I know what you're thinking. Here he goes again... And you're right. But let me explain.

Contrary to the belief of pretty much everyone who knows my reading habits, I don't give Jesse Ball an automatic gold star for everything he writes. And the release of a new book doesn't just nullify every other great book I read in any given year. It's just the guy is so bloody good. Even in his lesser moments he still manages to impress. And when he is at Peak Jesse (I've decided it's a thing), there's probably nobody writing like him today. Census, by any estimation, is Peak Jesse. Inspired by the death of his brother (well, actually the life of his brother), it is a novel of such profound beauty, so rich in creative warmth, that ten months after having first read it I still melt whenever it crosses my mind. Very few books have had that effect on me. Maybe Binu and the Great Wall, Melisande! What Are Dreams or Censoring an Iranian Love Story.

As I said back in March:

"Census is a deeply humane and tender novel, brimming with compassion, deep and original thought, sweetness and, yes, even humour. It asks big questions, and offers gentle guidance towards meaningful answers. It also throws down the gauntlet for how future writers might consider engaging artistically with their loss."

I have now read Census three times. If I could wipe my brain just to discover it anew I probably would. Little surprise then, that like The Curfew and Silence Once Begun before it, Census lands Jesse Ball the Bait For Bookworms Book of the Year.

Now bring on 2019.

2018: It's The Final Countdown

Still keeping it simple. Here are 9 of the top ten books I read this year.

10. SEVERANCE by LING MA
With so many post-apocalyptic novels doing the rounds these days, it's getting ever harder to stand out from the crowd. Kudos to Ling Ma, then, for pulling off a wholly original take on the genre, equal parts hilarious and downright frightening. As the world succumbs to a mysterious virus, Candace Chen remains committed to her shitty job, coming into the office each day to find fewer and fewer of her colleagues at their desks. In alternating chapters, we also see Candace after she's escaped the city and joined a band of survivors in search of The Facility. Severance is a great adventure, but it's an even better commentary on the stupidity of our modern lives.

9. THE BUTCHERBIRD STORIES by A.S. PATRIĆ
After two excellent novels, A.S. Patrić returns to the short form and, I have to say, it's a deadset triumph. The Butcherbird Stories not only confirms but builds on Patrić's reputation as one of Australia's finest writers. Each of the eleven stories is a wonder to read: beautifully crafted, edgy, captivating and fresh. For those who missed Patrić's brilliant novella, Bruno Kramzer, it makes a welcome reappearance here under a new title (Among The Ruins). And then there's The Flood, another novella-length story that might just be one of my favourite things that Patrić has written. Top it off with gorgeous production values - ten points to Transit Lounge for releasing it in hardcover - and you have an absolute must buy.

8. AXIOMATIC by MARIA TUMARKIN
2018 was one of the first years that I really got stuck in to reading some non-fiction that wasn't related to research for my own writing and, I think, it's done me good. Old me might never have picked up Axiomatic, but enough lit-loving friends were raving about it to convince me I'd be a fool to let it slip by. I don't really know how to describe this book other than to say Maria Tumarkin would have to be the most important public intellectual at work in Australia right now and this is her in full flight. Riffing on five seemingly self-evident axioms, Tumarkin forces us to question what we take for granted by dragging our minds across the grater of painful experience. The result is nothing short of magnificent.

7. WOMEN TALKING by MIRIAM TOEWS
No other book hit on 2018's zeitgeist quite like Miriam Toews's Women Talking. From a true story of the mass drugging and rape of Mennonite women by the men in their own community, Toews fashions an urgent and searing commentary on sexual power, exploitation and, ultimately, social revolution. Stripped of mod-cons, the Mennonite experience lends an almost fable-like air to the story, intensifying the book's metaphoric power. It's an intense read, quiet in its rage, but deafening in its moral force.

6. CICADA by SHAUN TAN
Well here's an unlikely top tenner. A picture book, only thirty-odd pages, and containing less than two hundred words, Shaun Tan's Cicada says more about the human condition than most other books this year. Drawing heavily on Kafka, with a hint of Ben Folds' Fred Jones, the titular Cicada is a data entry clerk, a cog in some menial bureaucratic machine. Over 17 years he is progressively crushed by his work and by those around him, all the while longing for something more from his life. It's heartbreaking and infuriating but ultimately redemptive and profound.

5. FLAMES by ROBBIE ARNOTT
Was there a more thrilling opening chapter to any book this year than the sea hunt in Robbie Arnott's Flames? In narrative verve and edge-of-the-seat tension it reminded me of the hot air ballon crash in Ian McEwan's Enduring Love, but with an almost Melvillian flair. Thankfully, what follows didn't disappoint. Flames proved a strange, magical, nigh mythical work of deeply Australian storytelling in which the characters are almost indistinguishable from the elemental forces that rage within. Trust me, you haven't read anything like it. Just beautiful.

4. NO FRIEND BUT THE MOUNTAINS by BEHROUZ BOUCHANI
One day we will look back on this era of Australian history with deep shame. What we have done, and what we have failed to do when it comes to our humanitarian obligations is frankly outrageous. At least we won't be allowed to forget. Behrouz Bouchani's staggering account of his imprisonment on Manus Island will continue to shine brightly as a mnemonic beacon long after the detention centres have been closed down. No Friend But The Mountains is a masterpiece of prisoner literature, up there with Solzhenitsyn and Levi (and no, I'm not going the Godwin's Law route, but I had visceral shivers reading some of the familiar conditions in that hellhole). Moreover, it is an instant Australian classic. Probably the most important book published here this century. The prose is stunning, the poetry sublime. It is dignified and courageous, honest and excoriating. I urge everyone to read it.

3. THE CAGE by LLOYD JONES
A man and boy stumble into a small town, seeking refuge. The locals take them in but grow progressively suspicious, and build a large cage to keep them until they can figure out what they should do. As the townsfolk bicker amongst themselves, the refugees seem ever less human, reduced as they are to base existence. Inspired by Lloyd Jones's own observation of mass displacement in Europe, this dark allegory should have absolutely dominated the literary world in 2018. It's the kind of book I see myself rereading over and over again in the coming years. If you happened to miss it, now would be a good time to rectify that.

2. THE EVERLASTING SUNDAY by ROBERT LUKINS
When it comes to quiet achievers, you really have to hand it to Robert Lukins and his exquisite debut, The Everlasting Sunday. Released in January by a publisher that spent the rest of year punching far above its weight, The Everlasting Sunday has continued to pick up new readers and is now finding itself on almost every end of year list I've seen. It's not hard to see why. The Everlasting Sunday is humble in its quietude and deceptive simple in its telling but contains a deep excavation of the complexities of young manhood. It's a beautiful book, in every sense, and one that richly deserves all the praise it is receives.

2018 In Review: Some Books I Loved This Year

Once again I'm leaving it until the last moment to do my final countdown but, in the meantime, here are a few books published in 2018 that I really enjoyed.

WINTERING by KRISSY KNEEN
I'm a big fan of Krissy Kneen's books. They're consistently smart, original and deliciously offbeat. That said, I think Wintering just might be my favourite. Having grown up on weird vampire and werewolf novels, I found Kneen's decidedly Aussie take on the genre to be brilliantly subversive and creepy. With the Australian obsession about the Tasmanian Tiger at its heart, Kneen riffs thoughtfully about community, family, superstition and environmental degradation. It's a thriller with some serious grey matter. Plus there's Tassie Were-tiger sex. What more could you want?

PINK MOUNTAIN ON LOCUST ISLAND by JAMIE MARINA LAU
So imagine, if you will, a Hunter S. Thompson or William Burroughs novel written now, totally plugged into its generation but more experimental in form. That's pretty much what you get with this absolute shot of adrenalin from Melbourne's Jamie Marina Lau. Sure, there were times I had no idea what the hell was going on, but the pure energy that courses through this novel's veins is so exhilarating to behold, that actual narrative doesn't really matter. Which isn't to say the story isn't great - drugs, technology, gambling, partying (again, to use an analogy, think Brett Easton Ellis if he was actually cool) but there's so much to like about this book that it doesn't really matter if one minor element cracks at any given point.

WAITING FOR EDEN by ELLIOT ACKERMAN
There's a certain inevitability to Ackerman's latest book, not the least because we know from the beginning how it ends. Two friends, army buddies, are caught in an IED explosion that kills one and leaves the other - Eden - a burnt husk, barely clinging to life. It is the former that narrates the story: how they got there, their friendship, their struggles, and, of course, the narrator's betrayal. While we wait for Eden to die (itself an excruciatingly long ordeal), we watch his wife sitting by his bedside, mourning her husband, and the part she played in betraying him. This is a lyrical, intense novel, spare, cutting and deeply moving.

PRESERVATION by JOCK SERONG
Barely a year after his brilliant novel, On The Java Ridge, Jock Serong brings us another tautly written, morally complex thrill-ride, this time set in the early years of Australia's colonisation. Preservation takes as its anchor point (sorry) a shipwreck off the coast of Tasmania in which fourteen people died and only a couple survived. From this historical footnote, Serong fashions a magnificent adventure reminiscent of books like Ian McGuire's The North Water or Ottessa Moshfegh's McGlue. What sets it apart and, dare I say, above those books however is just how historically and socially aware it is; Preservation provides some serious food for thought about Australian history, collective responsibility and the fragile bonds of civility.

PEACH by EMMA GLASS
When I first reviewed it back in January, I began with a warning that Emma Glass's Peach might just destroy you. Okay, so maybe it hasn't destroyed me, but a year on and I still think about it often. Few books have lodged so uncomfortably in my heart as Peach (only Veronique Olmi's Beside The Sea springs to mind), not only for its harrowing story but also the stylistic daring and verve with which it is delivered. It's a slim book, but it packs so many punches in the gut that you'll likely spend most of it gasping for breath.

2018 Mid-Year Wrap: Blue Moon Edition

Alright, so 2018 hasn't exactly been the blazing return to blogging that I was hoping it might be. I did manage to squeeze a semi-respectable sixty three books into the first half of the year, though. So that's got to count for something. Hopefully, I'll write something of substance about some of them at some point but, until then, here's a list (in no particular order) of a few that I really loved.

The Everlasting Sunday by Robert Lukins: A masterclass in building narrative tension, this exquisite debut crackles with solar flares of burgeoning masculinity. Set in a school for wayward boys, The Everlasting Sunday explores what it means to become a man when you have been thrown on society's scrap heap. It's cold, it's brooding, and it slams you in the gut with a sledgehammer. Just brilliant.

Census by Jesse Ball: A book so staggeringly beautiful that I was compelled to stop ignoring this blog and review it. Ball's surreal tribute to his brother is both magical and heartbreaking. Easily his best novel since his masterpiece, Silence Once Begun.

Flames by Robbie Arnott: Flames is so unlike anything I've read lately that I find myself tongue tied trying to get across how bloody great it is. Daring in form and almost folkloric in tone, Arnott weaves together threads of nature, myth and Tasmanian history into a compelling family saga. Flames is overflowing with incredible ideas and unexpected, delightful imagery. A truly original piece of literary fiction.

Pink Mountain on Locust Island by Jamie Marina Lau: Another experimental triumph, Pink Mountain... positively bristles with raw energy. It shoots all over the place in short, sharp chapters, taking in drugs, gambling, art and some pretty screwy family dynamics along the way. There are times that it flies off the rails, but that only adds to the thrill. Buckle up, if you dare.

Fish Girl by Mirandi Riwoe: A gorgeous novella that makes high art of Somerset Maugham's scraps, The Fish Girl will draw you in gently before plunging a thousand daggers into your soul. I know it's technically not a 2018 book but I'm happy to play fast and loose with the rules for a book this extraordinary. And thanks to the folks behind the Stella Prize for making me aware of its existence. Their picks are consistently spot on, but this year was a particular standout.

The Cage by Lloyd Jones: Well this was unexpected. Lloyd Jones writing the best work of Kafkaesque fiction about Europe's refugee crisis? Who'd have thunk it? Shades of the great Czech master abound in The Cage, not least of which is the titular contraption itself. Read it for a sophisticated, compassionate and brutally honest meditation on how we (mis)treat the outsider and how easy it is to slip into unthinking cruelty.

One Of The Boys by Daniel Magarial: A couple of pages into this devastating novella and you know you're in for a harrowing read. A father tricks child services into giving him custody of his two sons, only to brutally mistreat them as he descends into a drug-addled hell. One of the Boys is about as confronting as it comes, but there is exhilaration to be found in the boys' resilience and ultimate rebellion.

Peach by Emma Glass: Speaking of confronting, you'll be hard pressed to find anything as difficult to read as this breakout debut novella. It took me a few pages to work out what was going on and then it struck me: I was being made witness to the immediate aftermath of a rape as the narrator struggles to make sense of her experience. Written in stark, hallucinatory snippets, Peach is, as I called it in my review, a hell-ride into the hyper-real. Read it and weep. Literally.

Well, that's about it on the reading front. As for music, 2018 has been pretty good with only a couple of future classics. My favourites so far:

Bloomington Cutters - Humming Status, Singing Quo.
Slow Bloom - Hex Hex Hex
Spanish Love Songs - Schmaltz
The Bennies - Natural Born Chillers
Pass Away - The Hell I've Seen
Tiny Moving Parts - Swell
Pennywise - Never Gonna Die
The Last Gang - Keep Them Counting
Captives - Over The Rainbow
Late Bloomer - Waiting