2018 Booklist

My ten favorite books I read in 2018; interestingly, only one of them is fiction.

10. Gary Shteyngart, “Lake Success”
Shteyngart’s fourth novel is his best since his first, The Russian Debutante’s Handbook; if it feels like the product of an entirely different world, it is. Using the 2016 election as a timeline, he crafts (what is eventually) a redemption tale graced by his trademark satire and self-deprecating humor.

9. Sloane Crosley, “Look Alive Out There”
As much as I liked The Clasp, her stab at a novel, Crosley is first and foremost one of the best humorous essayists this side of the writer who wrote my favorite book of the year (see below). Detailing such hyperspecific concerns as an obnoxious teenaged neighbor or her porn star uncle, her perspective always remains both relatable and uniquely her own.

8. Parker Posey, “You’re On An Airplane”
Exactly the type of quirky and scattered memoir you’d expect and hope iconic actress Posey to write—like spending an afternoon with her in her Manhattan apartment, she’s your guide and confidante, occasionally irritating but so genuine and insightful you’ll follow her wherever she takes you.

7. Nell Scovell, “Just the Funny Parts”
Veteran TV writer Scovell’s book is part memoir, part industry tell-all and part manual for aspirants; it’s also a frank, funny read along a career path where Scovell points out how her profession has changed and all the regrettable ways in which it hasn’t, without seeming bitter or, on the other hand, sentimental.

6. Jon Ronson, “So You’ve Been Publicly Shamed”
Starts out as Schadenfreude: The Book!, develops into something far more unsettling and labyrinthine. Years from now, we’ll probably see a ton of tomes on the psychology and consequences of the golden age of social media and cyberbullying, and they’ll owe a debt to Ronson’s in-the-thick-of-it examination, published almost four years ago already.

5. Tamara Shopsin, “Arbitrary Stupid Goal”
Retaining the short paragraph/stream-of-consciousness structure of her earlier memoir Mumbai New York Scranton, Shopsin centers on her beloved father Kenny, an irascible, magnificent chef whose namesake restaurant was a Greenwich Village institution for decades; I read this six months before his passing, and in retrospect, it’s an elegy fit for a genuine New Yorker.

4. Michael Powell, “A Life In Movies”
Long out-of-print, I finally procured a copy of this British filmmaker’s first memoir, which covers his life until 1948 when he made his greatest hit, The Red Shoes. For someone who lived through so many cultural changes, partially defining them with his enviable run of 1940s classics co-directed with Emeric Pressburger, his conversational style and amiable wit are always welcome.

3. Hanif Abdurraqib, “They Can’t Kill Us Until They Kill Us”
Maybe the most original music critic I’ve read in years—often from his home base in Columbus, Ohio, Abdurraqib defies categorization, an omnivore writing passionately and eloquently on Future and Nina Simone, but also Fall Out Boy and Carly Rae Jepsen. Using both a Marvin Gaye tale and a trip to Ferguson, Missouri as framing devices, he cements his status as a chronicler of the here and now.

2. Joe Hagan, “Sticky Fingers: The Life and Times of Jann Wenner and Rolling Stone Magazine”
Perhaps this is really Schadenfreude: The Book, only with the comeuppance forever hanging in the air like a dangling, loosened noose. Those who already despise boomer narcissism will only feel further incensed by this portrait of Wenner, whom Hagan early on accurately describes as the Trump of the Left; still, his often jaw-dropping exploits make for such blisteringly funny copy that if you’re at all a fan of late 20thCentury pop culture, you will be no less than entertained.

1. David Sedaris, “Calypso”
When a writer so initially focused on his own obscurity and shortcomings like Sedaris becomes so immensely popular, it threatens to derail the very essence of his humor and sensibility (you can parse it in the books immediately following Me Talk Pretty One Day). Fortunately, his latest suggests he’s grown into this new skin by, of all things, challenging the notion of what readers want from his essays. That’s a roundabout way of saying Calypso is darker and more melancholy than anything he’s previously done, with the suicide of his youngest sister and his 92-year-old father’s mortality both primary threads running through the entire set. Rest assured, he’s still funny and sharp and acutely observational, but with a newfound depth suggesting his best work may be yet to come.

Also, even though it didn’t make my top ten, I have to mention Infinite Jest, which I spent a little over three months slowly combing my way through. To say I loved or hated it doesn’t seem like enough—at the end, I felt as if I endured it more than anything. It is like nothing else I’ve read, for sure, and I’m glad I consumed it, footnotes and all. Be forewarned, though: it requires patience, determination and openness.

Here’s my complete 2018 Booklist, with titles in chronological order of when I finished reading them (starred entries are books I’ve re-read–only four this year!):

  1. Joe Hagan, “Sticky Fingers: The Life and Times of Jann Wenner and Rolling Stone Magazine”
  2. Tom Spanbauer, “Faraway Places”*
  3. Steve Toltz, “Quicksand”
  4. James Mackay (ed.), “Derek Jarman Super 8”
  5. Jenny Lawson, “Furiously Happy”
  6. Julia Phillips, “You’ll Never Eat Lunch In This Town Again”
  7. Patty Yumi, “Sorry To Disrupt The Peace”
  8. Tamara Shopsin, “Arbitrary Stupid Goal”
  9. Tom Perrotta, “Mrs. Fletcher”
  10. Douglas Coupland, “Bit Rot”
  11. Joy Press, “Stealing The Show”
  12. Jon Ronson, “So You’ve Been Publicly Shamed”
  13. Dale Peck, “The Law of Enclosures”*
  14. Penny Marshall, “My Mother Was Nuts”
  15. Jomny Sun, “Everyone’s An Aliebn When You’re An Aliebn Too”
  16. Sam Wasson, “Improv Nation”
  17. Hanif Abdurraqib, “They Can’t Kill Us Until They Kill Us”
  18. Samantha Irby, “Meaty”
  19. David Foster Wallace, “Infinite Jest”
  20. Steven Hyden, “Twilight of the Gods”
  21. David Sedaris, “Calypso”
  22. Jennifer Egan, “Manhattan Beach”
  23. Charles Taylor, “Opening Wednesday at a Theater or Drive-In Near You”
  24. Ruth Reichl, “My Kitchen Year: 136 Recipes That Saved My Life”
  25. Chuck Klosterman, “Chuck Klosterman X”
  26. Jim Meehan, “Meehan’s Bartender Manual”
  27. Margaret Atwood, “Alias Grace”
  28. Chuck Eddy, “Terminated For Reasons of Taste”
  29. Caitlin Moran, “How To Be Famous”
  30. Geoff Dyer, “White Sands”
  31. Richard Brautigan, “The Abortion: An Historical Romance 1966”
  32. Tig Notaro, “I’m Just A Person”
  33. Nell Scovell, “Just the Funny Parts”
  34. Parker Posey, “You’re On An Airplane”
  35. Dale Peck, “Night Soil”
  36. Kurt Vonnegut, “Wampeters, Foma and Granfalloons”*
  37. Rob Sheffield, “On Bowie”
  38. Ezra Furman, “Transformer (33 1/3 series)”
  39. Kevin Allison (ed.), “Risk!”
  40. A.M. Homes, “Things You Should Know”
  41. Gary Shteyngart, “Lake Success”
  42. Richard Russo, “The Destiny Thief”
  43. Karl Ove Knausgard, “My Struggle, Book Five”
  44. Celeste Ng, “Everything I Never Told You”
  45. Sloane Crosley, “Look Alive Out There”
  46. Amy Gentry, “Boys For Pele (33 1/3 series)”
  47. Michael Powell, “A Life In Movies”
  48. Tim Kreider, “I Wrote This Book Because I Love You”
  49. Jean Shepherd, “In God We Trust, All Others Pay Cash”*
  50. John Darnielle, “Universal Harvester”

Best Albums of 2018: # 1

1. Tracey Thorn, “Record”

Yes, it’s an all-female Top Five, led by one of my all-time favorite artists. Thorn, a national treasure in the UK, has amassed an enviable oeuvre both as one-half of Everything But The Girl and through her sparse but generally superb solo work. However, Record, which via its cover sticker contains “nine feminist bangers” (go directly to the insurgent, eight-minute-long “Sister”) may be her most immediate and accomplished collection since Amplified Heart.

With an electronic dance tableau feeling homespun rather than secondhand, Thorn reclaims herself as a personable diva, her ever low-throated vocals enhanced, not defeated by age. She details her family history (“Smoke”), her musical origin story (“Guitar”), her decision to have children exactly when she was ready (“Babies”) her first grown child leaving home (“Go”) and her own status as pop star emeritus (“Queen”) all with an authority but also an uncommon closeness, as if coming from a mother, daughter or confidante. On Record’s glorious finale, dancing and drinking with her friends, she notes, “Someone’s singing and I realize it’s me”–the kind of epiphany one looks for but rarely uncovers in pop music.

“Dancefloor”:

“Sister”:

 

Best Albums of 2018: # 2

2. Christine and The Queens, “Chris”

On Christine and the Queens’ opener “iT”, Héloïse Letissier brashly suggested, “I’m a man now”; on album number two, she pushes that notion even further, creating a male persona she inhabits both visually and conceptually. But she remains more aspiring popstar god than art project, especially on the first half’s brilliant run of four singles (“Girlfriend”, “The Walker”, “Doesn’t Matter”, “5 Dollars”) which all build upon the ingenuity and hooks of past gems like “Tilted” and “Saint Claude”. The second half has plenty of hooks as well, but the slower songs, such as the devastating “What’s-Her-Name” or the tender “Make Some Sense” cut deepest. And, for all those hooks, on everything Letissier writes and sings, you always sense something timely, crucial and trailblazing is at stake.

“Doesn’t Matter”:

“The Walker”:

Best Albums of 2018: # 3

3. Natalie Prass, “The Future and The Past”

Following a self-titled debut that grew on me slowly but steadily, Prass firmly establishes she’s so much more than just a sweet-voiced singer/songwriter in love with classy divas like Dusty and Dionne. From the deliciously itchy funk of “Oh My” on down, she’s no longer paying tribute to the past but anticipating the future, crafting vicious manifestos (“Sisters”), squishy electro-R&B (“Never Too Late”) and piano-laced prog-rock (“Ship Go Down”), all with the same care and aplomb. On “The Fire”, she subverts the potential tinniness of late ‘80s/early ‘90s dance pop with a sharpness and warmth that sounds entirely of its own accord; far too nuanced to reach a wide contemporary audience, I suspect it, like the rest of the album will age like a fine Cabernet.

“The Fire”:

Best Albums of 2018: # 4

4. Robyn, “Honey”

Given her past championing of non-LP formats, for Robyn to finally return with a nine-track, forty-minute set was a bit of a surprise; even better was how complete and satisfying it felt. It has discipline and restraint like none of her previous albums but doesn’t at all dilute from or sacrifice what makes her such a compelling, unique artist. Those looking for another “Dancing On My Own” might feel let down, but those open to a more mature and subtle sonic (not to mention emotional) trajectory will find lots to fall in love with, from the ethereal breakbeats of opener “Missing U” to liberating, near-euphoric closer “Ever Again” and all the good stuff in between (rest assured, she totally gets away with titling a track “Send To Robyn Immediately”.)

“Ever Again”:

Best Albums of 2018: # 5

5. Sam Phillips, “World On Sticks”

As I had predicted/hoped, Phillips’s first album in five years is another worthy addition to her discography that also includes a few new shifts in her sound. Simultaneously her cleanest, most to-the-bone record since A Boot and A Shoe, most noir-inspired release since Fan Dance and most explicitly political record ever (“American Landfill Kings”, “Roll Em”), this long-gestating collection easily makes the case for her relevance three decades after her secular debut. Working ever more closely with longtime drummer Jay Bellerose, she crafts an instrumental palette and gently caustic tone succinctly relaying the album’s title, with closer “Candles and Stars” serving as both a lament and a hymn for stability and grace.

“Candles and Stars”:

Best Albums of 2018: # 6

6. Field Music, “Open Here”

The Brewis Brothers hit their stride with a record even better than 2016’s terrific Commontime. It’s their shortest, tightest collection in years, bookended by two epics: one ecstatic (“Time In Joy”), the other, gorgeous and dramatic (“Find A Way To Keep Me”, which aims for the fences and gracefully surpasses them.) In between are a bevy of compact prog-pop gems, some of them booming and insistent (“Share A Pillow”, “No King No Princess” ), others wistful and a bit warmer (the title track, “Daylight Saving”.) They’ll never be more than semi-semi-popular (not even as relatively big as obvious forebears XTC) but they’ve mastered their craft while retaining their tendency to view the world with an open mind and heart.

“Find A Way To Keep Me”:

Best Albums of 2018: # 7

7. Janelle Monae, “Dirty Computer”

As calculated and expected as anything she’s ever done, Monae’s return to music is easy to take for granted. However, listen closer, for she no longer sounds like she’s recklessly throwing darts and seeing what hits the target. As opposed to her previous LPs, this plays like a seamless, complete work (its compact frame helps a lot)–a considerable achievement when you parse all the genre (and of course gender) fluidity and big name cameos (Brian Wilson and Stevie Wonder) it makes room for. “Make Me Feel” is a great, great Prince rip, but a song like “Screwed” goes beyond tribute/pastiche, to the degree that one can imagine it as the basis for a good Monae rip someday.

“Screwed”:

Best Albums of 2018: # 8

8. Rolling Blackouts Coastal Fever, “Hope Downs”

“Talking Straight” is one of those sit-up-and-pay-attention radio hits (well, College radio, anyway) that are increasingly rare, and I’m happy to say this Melbourne-based band’s entire debut LP is generally of the same quality. Of course, I’d find anyone who loves fellow Aussies The Go-Betweens as much as them difficult to hate (those vocal cadences in “Exclusive Graves” are so very Robert Forster); I’d even go as far to say this has the star power (but thankfully not the pomp or distance) of the first two Oasis albums. Here’s hoping they continue to build on their sound rather than quietly fade away.

“Talking Straight”:

 

Best Albums of 2018: # 9

9. Amen Dunes, “Freedom”

Like many, I hadn’t heard of Damon McMahon’s long-running project until this year; I point to his peculiar vocals (resembling David Gray after a few too many pints) as the reason why, and suspect this fifth album was his breakthrough because of the sheer strength of its melodies and hooks. Musically, it’s another guitar-centered indie rock record, but rarely is it obvious or overly familiar. At once, songs like “Time”, “Miki Dora”, “Believe” (with its stirring key change midway through) and the title track carry the gravitas of classic rock chestnuts and yet feel intensely personal, convincingly wavering between intimacy and expansiveness.

“Believe”: