10 Best Books I Read in 2020
10 Best Books I Read in 2020
Once lockdown hit in March, I decided to read 100 books in 2020. And as of the ball drop on December 31st, I’d finished 104. (Though it was a lovely experience, here’s hoping I have less free time on my hands in 2021!) My selection ran the gamut, from rereading old favorites that did (To Kill a Mockingbird) and didn’t (East of Eden) hold up, to tearing through the complete works of Kurt Vonnegut and the Harry Potter series. Here’s a list of the cream of the crop, 10 books I read this year that stood out as being particularly touching, impressive, and meaningful.
The Crossing by Cormac McCarthy
I completed my journey through McCarthy’s oeuvre this year, and The Crossing stands out as the best of the best in my opinion. And unsung classic from one of America’s greatest modern writers, it’s a western bildungsroman with a dark ferocity to match its swoon-worthy prose.
Calypso by David Sedaris
No writer makes me laugh like David Sedaris, but Calypso might be the first book where he also made me cry. Sedaris’s sister, Tiffany, committed suicide in 2013, and Calypso is a loose collection of writings (mostly) tied together with the thread of familial grief. In a totally stacked bibliography, Calypso stands out as his masterpiece.
To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee
I’ve always known that To Kill a Mockingbird is a perfect book, but I’d never realized how strange a book it is until this past year. The structure of Mockingbird is all over the place—Tom Robinson’s arrest/trial storyline doesn’t kick in until the halfway point—but there’s an irresistible pull into Lee’s world that makes the whole thing seem like a vividly remembered dream. Now that I own a copy, it’ll be one I return to every couple of years.
Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban by J.K. Rowling
Of all the Harry Potter books, Azkaban is the one where Rowling best showcases her mastery as an author. It perfectly captures the childlike wonder of the first two books while juggling a significantly more complicated plot, and though there’s darkness that hangs over the book, it’s not as overbearing as it would become later in the series. A bad year for Ms. Rowling (who is less adept as social commentary than fantasy), but Azkaban stands the test of time.
Mother Night by Kurt Vonnegut
Shoutout to my fellow Hoosier Mr. Vonnegut, who reminded me this year why I used to love him so much in high school. And though Cat’s Cradle and Slaughterhouse Five are the ones that get the most recognition, his true masterpiece might just be this moving look at how humans get caught in the crossfire of history, and how difficult it is to truly escape your past.
Cleanness by Garth Greenwell
The only book on this list that was published in 2020, Cleanness is a fascinating collection of short stories about a gay professor teaching in Bulgaria. Pieces of it are uncomfortably explicit and difficult to read, but the final story of the book weaves together the threads cast out so masterfully that it left me in tears. A future classic of queer literature, it’s not one to miss.
Danny, the Champion of the World by Roald Dahl
One of a handful of Roald Dahl books I read this year, Danny struck me as a children’s book primarily written for adults. Not one I remember reading as a kid, it’s a comical and touching look at parent-child relationships that captures Dahl’s sentimental side.
The Grass Harp by Truman Capote
Reading Truman Capote is the literary equivalent of drinking champagne—it makes me feel rich and romantic, goes straight to my head, and leaves me sighing when it’s gone. Of the four Capote books I imbibed this year, The Grass Harp is the one that surprised me most. His surgical precision with language is used to such nostalgic, swoon-worthy, and ultimately lugubrious effect that it left me with an emotional hangover for days.
Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil by John Berendt
When I read Midnight in the Garden in high school, I don’t think I picked up on just how queer a book it is. This nonfiction page-turner set in Savannah, Georgia was even better than I remembered it, a fascinating dip into the humid ballrooms and sunken cemeteries of genteel southern society that’s enough to make you wish he’d written a decent follow-up.
Roll of Thunder, Hear my Cry by Mildred D. Taylor
The book that kicked off my current quest to read through every Newbery Medal winner, Roll of Thunder is a rich, probing, heartbreaking masterpiece. Transcending the bounds of “children’s literature”, it stands shoulder to shoulder with some of Toni Morrison’s best explorations of Reconstruction-era America, a story that’s as viscerally resonant in 2020 as I’m sure it was in 1976.
