It’s the end of the year, and time to look back on the last twelve months of reading. I may have read fewer pages this year (it being my first year of motherhood), but I still read some absolute gems. Let me share the best of those with you; I think there’s something here for everyone!
Of course, I’ve read too many picture books to count, but as a children’s book author, I also purchase picture books for myself and always have done. There are several that I’d thrust into the hands of everyone — for the best children’s books bring out the wonder in all of us. Mouse’s Wood by Alice Melvin is a gorgeous lift-the-flap book exploring a woodland and all the homes of its inhabitants. From Badger and his allotment to Fox and his crocheted blankets, each double-page spread is a celebration of a month: “October comes and dusk descends. The bluster strips the trees. We chase and chatter, speed and scatter, kicking up the leaves.” I bought this book for several adults this Christmas, and all have loved it. It’s also the first in a series, so there’s much to enjoy.
Sato the Rabbit by Yuki Ainoya, translated from the Japanese by Michael Blaskowsky, is a series of illustrated, very short “palm of the hand” stories, following Sato as he uses the moon as a blanket, falls into a raspberry, and opens a window in a puddle. It’s The Little Prince meets The Moomins, and it’s just charming.
When the Stammer Came to Stay by Maggie O’Farrell, who is most known for her books for adults, is a long-form picture book about two sisters, one of whom develops a stammer. Based on the author’s own experience as a child, it’s illustrated by Daniela Jaglenka Terrazzini and has a fairy tale quality to it. The lodgers in the story reminded me of Ballet Shoes by Noel Streatfeild. O’Farrell’s writing and reading it are so cosy, so warm; it’s as though it’s already a beloved classic.
The Grand Hotel of Feelings by Lidia Brankovic nearly had me in tears in our local bookshop, so of course, I had to bring it home. It’s a delightful picture book about a girl who runs a hotel where feelings come to stay. She’s learned how to nurture each of them: anger needs a big room, so it can let off steam; sadness speaks in a small voice and occasionally floods the bathroom — all feelings are cared for and accommodated as, of course, they’re only passing through. A good reminder for all of us, I think!
Having read The Tiger Who Came to Tea by Judith Kerr many times these past few months, I decided to revisit her Out of the Hitler Time trilogy — books for older children and adults — the first of which is When Hitler Stole Pink Rabbit. I must have read that book at least five times a year all throughout my childhood. It’s a novelised account of Kerr’s own life, fleeing Germany in the early 1930s as her father was outspoken against Hitler, living in Switzerland, then Paris, before finally moving to London. That and its sequels, Bombs On Aunt Dainty and A Small Person Far Away, follow Anna (Kerr) and her family as they need to reinvent themselves over and over again, learning new languages, finding jobs, and grappling with the label of “refugee.” It was wonderful to read them again after so many years, and it also highlighted a whole new meaning of The Tiger Who Came to Tea: the fear of a dangerous creature coming into your life and having to politely smile as they steal all of your possessions and leave you with nothing.
Now on to the books primarily for grown-ups. Pet by Catherine Chidgey is a literary thriller I read at the beginning of 2024 and still think about all the time. It's about a corrupt teacher, the need for power, and the complexity of memory. If you're a fan of Notes on a Scandal by Zoe Heller, you'll adore this one.
The Pachinko Parlour by Elisa Shua Dusapin, translated from the French by Aneesa Abbas Higgins, is a cloying, claustrophobic novel about a woman travelling from Europe to stay with her Korean grandparents in Japan. The colour blue floods the book, a bubbling grief, unspoken, just off the page. The power of this story is in what it holds back; all the secrets it keeps.
Butter by Asako Yuzuki, translated from the Japanese by Polly Barton, is not a perfect novel but one I can’t get out of my head. A journalist requests to interview a chef convicted of murdering her lovers — people she’d killed after seducing them with her food. I can’t tell you how hungry this book made me (and I’m not sure what that says about me!). It also has some interesting discussions on feminism in Japan.
Two novels from this year’s Women’s Prize shortlist have really stayed with me. Enter Ghost by Isabella Hammad is about an actress, Sonia Nasir, who joins a production of Hamlet in Palestine. The rehearsal scenes are set out like a play, and whilst this could feel gimmicky, I think it works well. This sharp novel explores how stories are passed on, who censors them, and which narratives are upheld, presented, and represented — the translations of truth, occupation, and history. River East, River West by Aube Rey Lescure is a split narrative novel that follows Alva, a teenager in Shanghai in 2007 who idolises American culture, and her stepfather Lu Fang, whose life we track decades earlier in Qingdao. Alva has a secret life online; her mother’s past could be a fiction; Lu Fang has his own hauntings, too. The characters hide behind different versions of themselves, projecting images of wealth, class, or whiteness. It made me cry several times.
Finally, the book I think I’d recommend to the most people, and the most comforting thing I read all year, was The Fortnight in September by RC Sherriff. First published in 1931, it’s a difficult book to pitch in that not a lot happens in it, but you’re going to have to trust me. We follow the Stevens family as they get ready to go on their annual two-week holiday to Bognor Regis, and then we get to experience the holiday itself. I don’t think I’ve ever read a book that more joyfully captures the minutiae of everyday life: the little anxieties that plague each family member, the to-do lists that litter their bedside tables, the inconsequential yet vital memories they have of previous trips to the same place, their longing for things to be just so. It makes my heart full just thinking about it. If you want a book that feels like a hug, this is the one for you.
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