Thanks to this link at The Elegant Variation, the marvelous LA-based litblog put out by self-proclaimed "contented defiler of prose" Mark Sarvas, I found this great post that provides an annotated reading list, with links, of all the fiction published by The New Yorker during one year (2005) in another estimable litblog, C. Max Magee's The Millions.
A Year in Reading: New Yorker Fiction 2005Click at the link above for the entire post, complete with functioning links to most of the stories. Once I was in Max's place, I immediately felt at home, perhaps because his blog shares the shambling, scruffy bookishness of the LA bookstore where he used to work, Book Soup. (The West Hollywood bookstore, where I took this shot of the window on Christmas Eve, 2004, is an absolute treasure that reminds you of why independent bookstores are so vital to the literary well-being of a community.) How can you not love a guy who organizes his reading this way:
My year in reading involved a couple dozen or so books, most of which I wrote about here, but it also involved, to a large extent, my favorite magazine, the New Yorker. I spent three or four out of every seven days this year reading that magazine. So, for my "Year in Reading" post, I thought I'd revisit all the time I spent reading the New Yorker this year, and in particular, the fiction. It turns out that nearly every one of the 52 stories that the New Yorker published this year is available online. I thought it might be fun to briefly revisit each story. It ended up taking quite a while, but it was rewarding to go back through all the stories. What you'll find below is more an exercise in listing and linking than any real attempt at summary, but hopefully some folks will enjoy having links to all of this year's stories on one page. I also wanted to highlight a couple of blogs that did a great job of reacting to New Yorker fiction this year - you'll find many links to them below - Both "Grendel" at Earthgoat and "SD Byrd" at Short Story Craft put together quality critiques of these stories. Now, without further ado, on to the fiction:
January 3, "I am a Novelist" (not available online) by Ryu Murakami: This story by the other Murakami is about a famous novelist who is being impersonated by a man who frequents a "club" of the type often described in Japanese stories. The impostor runs up a huge bar tab and gets one of the hostesses pregnant. Murakami is best-known for his novel, Coin Locker Babies. Links: I Read a Short Story Today
January 10, "Reading Lessons" by Edwidge Danticat: A Haitian immigrant elementary school teacher, a resident of Miami's Little Haiti, is asked by her boss - and lover, "Principal Boyfriend" - to tutor the illiterate mothers of two of her students. In 2004, Danticat received much praise for her novel, The Dew Breaker and this year she put out a young adult novel called Anacaona, Golden Flower.
Part of the problem is how I read. I read fairly quickly, but I don't spend a lot of my day reading books. I spend a lot of time on this here computer, for one thing. Plus, every day I read the newspaper and every week I read the New Yorker from cover to cover. I'll probably read about 30 books this year, not a lot when you consider my TBR pile is more than 40 books tall. Though I'd love to be able to read two or three books a week, I don't really mind my slower pace. Still, I didn't like the idea of books staring at me year after year unread, so I created the reading queue."Goodbye, LA" is a lovely farewell to the city where he started to blog, the city he hated at first but came to love (while continuing to hate) after he got to know its surprisingly bookish heart.
As you can see if you check out the queue near the bottom of the right hand column, I alphabetize my TBR pile by author and then assign each book a number. When the time comes to pick my next book to read, I use a random number generator to decide for me. I know, it's impossibly nerdy, but I've decided I like handling my reading decisions this way.
So I said the hell with it and walked into a little bookstore on the Sunset Strip. Moments after I got the job I remembered (how had I forgotten?) how much I love books. And soon my hunger for words became insatiable, like that of a beggar who suddenly has daily access to feast worthy of a king. Soon I felt guilty. I had to share.And because Michelle Huneven's Jamesland was one of my most enjoyable reads a few years back, I enjoyed his post about Huneven's visit to his book club at Book Soup, which was discussing the book.
My friend Derek, always a step ahead, had begun blogging. I pronounced it to be silly and a huge waste of time and then promptly started my own blog. I realized after a month or so that it had to be about books and nothing else, since that's the only thing that really moved me at the time.
And plus, I had so much material: a constant torrent of new releases and a cadre of coworkers and customers with whom I discussed books eight hours a day. (This was when I discovered, by the way, that LA is an obsessively literary place, and it doesn't care if anyone knows it, so it doesn't bother to tell anyone.)
... or those who read the book and wondered why, after Alice's first dream-like experience with the deer in her house, when she was trying to figure out if it had been real or not, she didn't look in her washing machine to see if the towels she used to clean up after it were there in the morning, that scene was in the original manuscript. She and her editor went back and forth trying to decide if she should leave it in or not, and then, months later, when the book came out, she had forgotten that they had removed the scene and was surprised to see it gone. ...When we read a book we really enjoy, its structure and content often take on a certain inevitability, as if it had to be just this way. This was a nice example of how messy and contingent the process of putting a book together actually is.