Let the Dead Bury Their Dead by Randall Kenan

This collection of short stories, mostly set in the fictional neighborhood of Tims Creek, North Carolina, delights with its beauty, humor, and meta-fictional commentary. The stories feature a wide range of protagonists, and gradually set out a depiction of a community with memorable characters. I particularly loved "Clarence and the Dead (and What do they tell you, Clarene? and The Dead Speak to Clarence)," "Things of This World ; or, Angels Unawares," and "Let the Dead Bury Their Dead; Being the Annotated Oral History of the Former Maroon Society called Snatchit and then Tearshirt and later the Town of Tims Creek, North Carolina [circa 1854-1985]." The stories show the magic inherent in everyday life and satirize academic attempts to interpret or explain the community.

Tobacco Road by Erskine Caldwell

This book portrays the extreme poverty of the Lester family in a story that might be compared to a train wreck: you know you shouldn't be looking (and in this case laughing), but you can't look away either. The book relies neither on sentimentality nor on a proletarian call to action, but rather by turning the readers' reactions back on them: instead of a moral or a plan, Caldwell interrogates why we respond to this family with humor, contempt, and perhaps pity. The failure of the land to produce crops is equated with the family's inability to reproduce within social norms (the Lesters have had seventeen children, but only two still live at home, for example, and the ones who have left want nothing to do with the family). While Jeeter Lester (the head of the family) instinctively knows that his fate is tied to the land and that he wants no part of industrialization (symbolized by the possibility of a mill job in Augusta), the family is completely unable to cope with modernity: they treat their new car as if it were almost human--and in so doing manage to almost destroy it in a few short days. Finally, this book is about rural poverty in the South in the same way that Moby Dick is about whales--certainly it's a relevant topic, but Tobacco Road raises bigger and more pressing questions: What does it mean to be human? and What are the costs of living in a society that allows some of its members to become so abject?

Midnight's Children by Salman Rushdie

This book is the story of Saleem Sinai, one of 1,001 so-called Midnight's Children, people born during the first hour of India's independence. Saleem grows up with the nation, and must face a variety of betrayals as he navigates his life in India and Pakistan, and as he narrates his family history before Indian independence. The magical realism works very well in this book--it adds to the beauty and power of Saleem's experiences. Between Saleem's job in the pickle factory, and his love for his sister, I could see antecedents of plot points in The God of Small Things. It's a really great story that masterfully juggles the intimate and personal with the national. Winner of the Booker Prize, 1981, and twice voted the best of the Booker winners.

The God of Small Things by Arundhati Roy

In this book Roy's luminous language tells the story of tragedy coming to an Indian family with the visit of their cousin, Sophie Mol. While we know from the very first pages that the stories of the twins Rahel and Estha, their mother Ammu, and their cousin Sophie Mol cannot come to a conventionally happy ending, the book works against convention in its structure, its language, and its plot. If not happy through and through, or entirely hopeful, it does offer a visionary path towards a better life--both through a trans-human ecology and through a commitment to storytelling as a way of reordering and giving meaning to a harsh life. Although the boundaries some of the characters cross in this book may be hard for readers to swallow, the book affirms boundary-crossing as an important activity, and reminds us that these boundaries are only human constructions that get in the way of our full potential. Booker award winner, 1997

As I Lay Dying by William Faulkner

I definitely appreciated the achievements of this book much more this time around than I ever have before. I'm not quite sure what clicked (whether the epic ambitions / ultimate parody of the journey the Bundrens take, Darl's prescient ability to know what's going on, poor Vardaman's inability to process his mother's death, Cora's self-righteous assumptions, or Anse's sly laziness), but I could see how this novel works better than ever.

The Velvet Horn by Andrew Lytle

This book is one you have to ease yourself into slowly. Its outer layer showing a Southern family at the death of the patriarch, slowly melts away, revealing years and years of betrayals and lies. In other words, this book is Southern Gothic at its best.

Moll Flanders by Daniel Defoe

While this novel is still an early specimen of the form--there are no chapters, for example--I quite enjoyed this book. While Moll says she's repented of her early behavior, she still has made the most of it (despite incest, time in prison, and the rest). I found myself intrigued by how easily she let go of her children (who generally aren't named, and usually are foisted off on someone else to raise) and by the presence of America (the colonies) which play a surprisingly large part in the novel.

A Storm of Swords by George R. R. Martin

The third installment in George R. R. Martin's A Song of Fire and Ice series does not disappoint. No character seems safe as the war for the throne of the Seven Kingdoms continues and the threat in the North increases. It's not just the continually shifting allegiances and political manoeuvrings that thrill, though. As the viewpoints from which the story is told expand, characters whom I found unbearable at first begin to grow on me. I'm just sorry that the series isn't finished yet.

Bloodchild and Other Stories by Octavia Butler

This book collects five stories and two essays by Octavia Butler. The stories are challenging, because they're often set in different societies (the title story focuses on an outpost of humans who have developed a parasitic relationship with a host species) or in a different version of our society (two focus on disease--a psychological disorder that happens to children whose parents took a miracle drug for cancer, and a world where people are losing their ability to hear and read)--and it often takes almost the entire story to figure out what's happening. I really enjoyed these stories, which all focus on what constitutes a family, what does it mean to love another being, how do we communicate with one another, and how do we cope with disease. All in all, a brilliant collection.

Trespass by Rose Tremain

This book uses its elegant prose to examine familial betrayals and impositions in the lives of two pairs of siblings brought together over the sale of a house in the South of France. I thought this book was particularly aptly titled--as various kinds of trespassing (on people's land as well as emotions) resonated throughout the book. The pace of the book was leisurely at first, but it all came together to a moving ending.

Island Beneath the Sea by Isabelle Allende

I enjoyed this book, set on Haiti and in New Orleans. The book tells the story of Zarité, an enslaved woman, who eventually persuades her master to free her after she saves his and his son's lives during the Haitian Revolution. In parts, it seems really engaged with its history (in a thematic way), whereas sometimes, I felt like the rich historical background was just so much window-dressing. I think in the long run, it's the former that prevails. I'd be very interested to read the book in Spanish, particularly because its settings are mostly Francophone.

Pierre, or the Ambiguities, by Herman Melville

This book speaks to many important concerns in 19th Century American literature. Perhaps most important is the novel's struggle with authorship and originality. These concerns strike me as related to all the incest moments happening in the book: first Pierre treats his mother like his sister, then, when he meets his illegitimate sister, he decides the only way to protect her is to call her wife, and then when his former betrothed comes to live with them, he calls her sister. Even in love, Pierre cannot be original. The novel's also engaged with paintings: they provide the evidence of Pierre's father's infidelity and take on a gothic, supernatural life of their own. Finally, this novel continues the American tradition of presenting two heroines as a light lady and a dark lady. The novel's digressiveness and need to return to the past for completeness reminded me of Tristram Shandy.