Some Thoughts on the Library Journal "Best Of.." List

Library Journal's annual "Best Of..." lists are officially in print and most of you know that I worked for two months on the list for this year's literary fiction stand outs. Now I can talk a bit more about some of them and also about the fact that, naturally, each of the three of us who read the thirty-six contenders had to compromise a bit on the finalists. The wonder is that without this assignment I'd probably never have found such gems as "Boy Swallows Universe," or "Night Boat from Tangier." 

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Kevin Barry was a revelation for me. My sister and I have often lamented that we just don't "feel" our Irish roots. Far better, we thought, to have more exotic blood flowing through our veins. Alas, our DNA test disabused us of our dreams. Yet reading Barry's novel was a visceral experience. The language spoke to me, even though - perhaps especially because - it came from the mouths of Maurice Hearne and Charlie Redmond, a couple of two-bit crooks who share a long history of crime, violence, and the love of one woman. 

An air of menace surrounds them even though, when we meet the two, they are at the tail end of their careers and lives, sitting in a run-down ferry terminal waiting for the arrival of Dilly, a young woman they both lay claim to. They pass the time reminiscing about their partnership, their youth, their breaks with each other and their eventual reunion. Who else, you might wonder, would want them?

Barry exquisitely sets up scenes of horrific violence juxtaposed with others of tenderness, even love. This dichotomy reminded me of that famous scene in "The Godfather" that toggles back and forth between a baptismal ceremony and a mass gangland killing. Barry's narrative style is comprised of short, staccato sentences offset with poetic, musical cadences. This novel is a remarkable reminder of why the Irish are considered consummate storytellers.

"The Water Dancer," on the other hand, was a tough sell for me. I had to read it twice before I came around. First of all, I thought that it might be a better fit in the historical fiction category or even in fantasy. The story centers around an enslaved man named Hiram who is the son of the plantation owner. Taught to read and write, he comes to believe, without any reason, that his white father might raise him up to help run the property that is falling into disrepair under the hands of the actual heir, Hiram's half brother, who is a womanizing wastral without a shred of business acumen. 

As a devoted fan of author Ta-Nehisi Coates' non-fiction, I read in awe his brilliant case for reparations outlined in a famous article in The Atlantic, I was disconcerted by his use of a stilted, outdated linguistic style for his debut novel. It felt forced and inauthentic to me. I also had to work past the fantastical premise Coates put forth surrounding Hiram's talent of conduction, a means of seeing the past and the future and traveling in between. Then I reminded myself of Coates' work on the Black Panther graphic novels and decided to accept that he needed to give Hiram a bit of superhero power, the better to eventually work with Harriet Tubman on the underground railroad. 

What eventually spoke to me was Coates' decision not to focus so much on the physical horrors of slavery, the whippings, dismemberments, and constant torture that we've come to know from history, but rather to speak of the emotional devastation wrought by family separation. In fact, it is Hiram's sense of loss at barely remembering his own mother that is at the heart of his future activism. Coates eloquently evokes the eternal emptiness suffered by parents whose children are sold from them, offering a stark reminder of what's happening a century and a half later on our southern border.

More thoughts on our decisions as the week progresses, in the meantime, happy reading!