Kat’s 2024 Book List

I would be a pretty terrible book critic. I don’t analyze books with literary insight. I document my reading experience in terms of my relationship with the books I read. Why I decided to read each one. What each one means to me and how it relates to my reading history. I was inspired by my mother, who lamented for years that she had not kept a book journal but could have started one at any point during those years. I like to think of my annual book list as the story of my reading life.

Anyhoo, my punier-than-ever 2024 reading list appears below. Books are more or less in the order in which I read them, with two exceptions – fiction is separated from nonfiction and multiple books by the same author are grouped together. The trouble with reading a relatively small number of books is the lowered likelihood of reading books one truly loves. That was the case this year. Those pictured above were the ones I most enjoyed, but I wouldn’t say I read anything this year that really knocked my socks off. Other recent trends I broke this year included failing to read a literary classic or anything about two topics I typically read about – Indian/Indian-American women and enslaved women.

Fiction

1. The Movement of Stars, by Amy Brill. 2024 gets off to a slow reading start given that I’m writing this in early February, and this is the only book I’ve read so far this year. It’s historical fiction about a young woman in the mid-19th-century who strives to be an astronomer, discovering celestial objects at a time when women were thought incapable of such feats. I was drawn to this book via my Quaker roots, as the protagonist and her community are Quakers in Nantucket. A strong subplot about a fraught emotional entanglement with a young black man the white protagonist is tutoring is compelling. This book took me a while to get into, but I enjoyed it as I got further into it.
2. The Heaven and Earth Grocery Store, by James McBride. This isn’t a title I typically would choose; I did so because I saw it on several Best of 2023 lists. McBride is an excellent storyteller, and the book is full of lovely storied vignettes, but I lost significant interest after a major character was no longer part of the story.
3. Life Class, by Pat Barker. I grabbed this piece of historical fiction on sale, having heard great things about author Barker. It’s very well written, but for me, lacked sufficient feminine energy. The protagonist is male, and the book had such a masculine feel it that I wondered if I’d been mistaken that Barker is a “girl” Pat and not a “boy” Pat (she’s a woman). Set on the eve of WWI, Life Class begins as a story about art students and their romances and sexual encounters. While I didn’t love this one, Barker has plenty of other books, and I liked her writing enough to consider trying another one.
4. Caught, by Harlan Coben. My year having begun with 4 books that were perfectly fine, but that I didn’t love, I decided to turn to a reliable favorite author. I chose this 2010 release because it seems to be popular among fans and because it has a female protagonist; Coben does a nice job of writing about women. Coben does not disappoint with his engaging, twisty plot about a reporter’s investigation into campaigns to smear the reputations for 4 Princeton roommates. It is telling that I consumed this book in days (assisted by a road trip), while the preceding books of this year took me weeks. I was completely engaged and enjoyed, as usual, Coben’s references to my birth state of NJ and appearances by characters (Win Lockwood, Hester Krimstein) from his other novels.
5. Family Reservations, by Liza Palmer. Twists and turns about women running a family restaurant business? Yes, please! I choose this novel when a Facebook ad about it intrigued me with the premise of female entrepreneurship. A luminary of the food world is reluctant to share the spotlight with her three daughters. The story unfolds over a short period in which tensions between mom and daughters have reached a crisis point. I enjoyed this small glimpse into the foodie world and the family dynamics. I’d like to see a TV series based on this premise.
6. Close to Death, by Anthony Horowitz. I consider the prolific (80+ books) Horowitz an “almost annual” author in that I read at least one of his in most years. This is the fifth in his Hawthorne and Horowitz series, in which the author plays a character; I believe it’s the third I’ve read in that series. Horowitz is a clever and sometimes gimmicky writer (gimmicks like appearing as a character in his own books). Close to Death is a serviceable whodunnit enhanced by Horowitz’s clever and often humorous writing.
7. Maternal Instincts, by Becky Masterman. This is the first Masterman novel that does not focus on retired FBI agent Brigid Quinn. I’ve read all 4 of the Quinn books and enjoyed them largely because it’s fun and empowering to think of a brilliant detective who’s around my age. The protagonist of Maternal Instincts is also a “woman of a certain age,” but she’s not a detective, and she’s mired in an uncomfortable domestic situation. The book takes a while to engage the reader, and when it does, the engagement focuses on whether this older woman is pure evil or not. This book is disappointing on a couple of levels. It has no likable characters, like Brigid Quinn. And it disappoints simply by not being a compelling detective story but rather a somewhat unpleasant domestic tale. A twist, though predictable, adds some life to the story, but I wish it had come sooner.
8. The Museum of Failures, by Thrity Umrigar. My seventh experience with Umrigar’s books is not exactly in my beloved genre of Indian and Indian-American women because the protagonist is a man, but it still addresses issues Indian women face in its storylines about the protagonist’s mother’s tribulations with her marriage and a secret disabled child, as well as the story of the young unwed pregnant woman from whom the protagonist seeks to adopt a baby. It occurred to me as I was consuming the book that “family dynamics” could be considered a significant theme of this year’s reading. I’m glad I kept reading Umrigar’s novels after I found the first of hers I read just OK. Like The Museum of Failures, they have all been satisfying reads. It occurs to me that Umrigar is sort of an Indian counterpart to Catherine Ryan Hyde.
9. Mother-Daughter Murder Night, by Nina Simon. The intriguing title drew me to this book. It took me a while to get into it; in fact, I re-started the book, which was a serviceable whodunnit solved by not just a mother-daughter team, but three generations of women, the matriarch of which has lung cancer. As in many of the books I’ve read this year, family dynamics played a significant role.
10. Bright and Tender Dark, by Joanna Pearson. A college student is murdered on campus, and her friends are still consumed with her death two decades later. Thus, you would think the novel would read like a crime or whodunnit story, but it’s really more about the relationships among those involved. It’s also written in present tense, which I dislike. I had a hard time engaging with the book.
11. God of the Woods, by Liz Moore. This was my fourth novel by Moore, having read all of her books except her debut novel. I’ve like all of them, though like Long Bright River a bit less than the others. God of the Woods, set mostly in the 1970s, focuses on the disappearance from summer camp of a pre-teen girl who is also the daughter of the camp owners and the sister of a boy who similarly disappeared years before. I love Moore’s writing and character development. She paints a picture of truly awful rich people in God of the Woods.
12. Prodigal Summer, by Barbara Kingsolver. This is the sixth of Kingsolver’s novels I’ve read, and I likely would have read more of hers if she hadn’t narrated them herself on audio. Kingsolver is a decent, but not great, narrator. Most professional narrators change their voices a bit to represent different characters and to distinguish between male and female voices; Kingsolver doesn’t do that, so dialog scenes in particular can be confusing. I am grateful she didn’t ruin her best book – Demon Copperhead – by narrating it. Kingsolver presents three storylines in the novel. Two are about young women and are very similar stories. The third is about an older man and woman, and I didn’t feel this one was well fleshed out or engaging. The stories somewhat come together at the end, but I wish they’d come together sooner and more satisfyingly. Prodigal Summer was a pleasant read but it’s not my favorite of Kingsolver’s.
13. Wordhunter, by Stella Sands. Saw this novel mentioned in a newsletter for book clubs annd was intrigued by the premise: “Detective story about a woman who uses her uncanny ability to analyze words and speech patterns to help solve crimes.”
14. Mrs. Porter Calling, by AJ Pearce. I read this novel, set in WWII, thinking it was the second in a trilogy that began with Dear Mrs. Bird, which I read in 2022. Turns out Mrs. Porter Calling is the third book in the trilogy, and I inadvertently skipped the second. The novel follows the further adventures of Emmy Lake, a journalist working at a women’s magazine during WWII. The publication’s staff is challenged when a new owner/publisher swoops in, making reader-displeasing changes to the magazine. The story of how the staff fights back is the most compelling part of the novel, which also details wartime tragedy – spouses separated, children left motherless, buildings bombed out. I enjoyed Mrs. Porter Calling and look forward to addressing my lapse by reading the middle book in the series, Yours Cheerfully.
15. Yours Cheerfully, by AJ Pearce. Well, of course I had to read the middle book in the above-mentioned trilogy next. This one was my least favorite of the trilogy. Narratively, it was weaker than the other two, and unlike the others, it lacked a juicy antagonist. Protagonist Emmy Lake campaigns for childcare for war workers. A worthy cause and interesting piece of history, but not terribly engaging and also left unresolved. Wondering if the Emmy Lake series will continue. WWII was waning at the end of Mrs. Porter Calling, but not over.
16. The Stargazer’s Sister, by Carrrie Brown. I would not have guessed I would read TWO historical novels this year that are both set in the 19th century, featuring astronomy and women’s role in it. Beloved brothers who “jilt” their sisters by marrying play a role in both stories. Both women emerge from their brothers’ shadows to make a something of a name for themselves in astronomy. I found the book interesting, and it was yet another examination of the challenges women face through history, but it was narratively weak. Just not enough of a story for my tastes.
17. The Sequel, by Jean Hanff Korelitz. What fun – a book about a sequel that is itself a sequel. Bonus: The chapters are named after sequels from fiction and literature. The book of which this is a sequel, The Plot, was one of my favorites of 2021, and it wasn’t the first year for a Korelitz book to land at the top of my list; I also loved Admission back in the 20-teens. Second bonus: Audio narration by my favorite narrator, Julia Whelan. In most cases, lack of likeable characters kills a book (or movie, TV show) for me. But I tend to root for some baddies for their intelligence and cleverness in getting away with their misdeeds. TV serial killer Dexter is a classic example. A tragic childhood is often baked into the villain’s storyline to make them more sympathetic, as in Dexter’s case. Anna, the evil protagonist of The Sequel, hooked me with her sharp wits, but I don’t like her as much as some of the bad guys I’ve encountered in fiction. She, too, had an unfortunate upbringing, though it didn’t seem all that terrible to me. I noted as I read The Sequel that I’ve read an inordinate number of novels about authors having their manuscripts stolen (sometimes via the authors’ murder), which makes me wonder if this is something authors worry a lot about. I also wondered if The Sequel could stand on its own for anyone who hasn’t read The Plot. I think not. I really enjoy Korelitz’s writing, but this one had a high body count and an unsatisfying ending, possibly a setup for another sequel.
18. Disclaimer, by Renee Knight. The TV miniseries that was made from this book attracted me to it. I found myself enthralled with the miniseries, which is very similar to the book; lots of dialogue and voiceover narration (in – ugh, present tense –) is identical. Had I read the book first, I’m not sure I would have been drawn to the series. I ended up reading the book and watching the series in tandem, having started the book between weekly episodes of the series and eventually caught up to where I was in the series. It was at this point in the story in both media that things started to drag a bit, and I began to find reactions and even the plot itself losing credibility. I finished the book with two episodes of the series yet to be watched. The twist served up at the end did not feel credible to me. I wondered what, if anything, the author was trying to say with this novel.
19. Big Lies in a Small Town, by Diane Chamberlain. For my next read, I felt the need for a low-risk selection; in other words, a novel from an author whose work I’ve read and liked. I remembered a book by Chamberlain that I had really liked a couple years ago and whose work I knew I would read more of. This historical novel follows the dual-timeline format of many historical novels I’ve read. One woman’s (I have never read a novel in this format in which the timeline protagonists were men) story unfolds in the historical period, and the other woman’s tale is set closer to the present. The near-present woman ends up discovering and interacting with the long-dead historical woman’s story. In the case of Big Lies in a Small Town, the device by which the near-present woman connects with the historical woman’s story is a mural that Historical Woman painted and Near-Present Woman has been asked to restore. While the overall plot was kind of implausible, I was thoroughly engaged in the story and will be reading more Chamberlain.
20. Keeper of the Light, by Diane Chamberlain. I decided to read more Chamberlain sooner rather than later and didn’t regret the choice to read a book I was pretty sure I would like. This one opens in a trauma center, where a doctor struggles to save the life of a gunshot victim who turns out to be the woman the doc’s husband is having an emotional affair with. The aftermath of that encounter comprises the book, in which the gunshot victim becomes a huge presence in the story, even though she, in fact, dies in the opening scene (not really a spoiler since since this outcome is revealed in the promo material for the book). Intriguing secrets and lies kept me engaged, and I liked everything about the novel except a rather hokey coda at the very end.
21. A Talent for Murder, by Peter Swanson. Swanson struggles mightily to prop up the implausibility of this, his 10th novel, of which I have consumed nine. I mean, if you learned that a suspicious death had occurred at a convention your spouse attended, would it pop into your head that your spouse had murdered the victim? Swanson tries to render this premise believable by making the suspicious spouse a librarian (curious, good at research) and her husband a traveling salesman she doesn’t know that well because of his travels and the fact that they’ve been married only a year. Then at the halfway point, Swanson doubles down on the implausibility with a preposterous twist. And ultimately slaps on another not-credible twist at the end. Twists are the reason I read Swanson’s books, ever since his masterful study in twists, The Kind Worth Killing in 2015, which he has not yet equaled. Swanson has published a novel every year (except 2016) since 2014, and 2024’s A Talent for Murder sneaked up on me, appearing as a bargain book on Audible (wondering if that’s a statement about its quality). I enjoy Swanson’s writing style, characterizations, and frequent pop-culture (a la Stephen King) and literary references, but his stories are uneven. I’m placing this one pretty far down the list in terms of quality Swanson novels (All the Beautiful Lies was more of a dud than this one).
22. The Boyfriend, by Frieda McFadden. I chose this one because it seemed to be getting a lot of buzz. Chapters alternate between the single gal seeking a boyfriend and the too-good-to-be-true boyfriend she lands on after a streak of bad dates. The single gal comes off as ditsy, but it’s hard to tell if she is written as ditsy as the narrator portrays her. The writing and/or narration of the boyfriend is annoying in its earnest naiveté. The characters’ stories also unspool on different timelimes. The single gal is in “present day,” while the boyfriend is in high school and hasn’t yet met the single woman. The ending was a mishmosh of chaos and implausible twists. I don’t typically gravitate toward romance, couples, and dating in fiction and chose this one, in part, for its thriller promise. The novel offered just enough intrigue and unanswered questions to keep me reading, but my overall feeling while reading was “meh.”
23. First Lie Wins, by Ashley Elston: I chose this book because Audible placed it in its selection of the top 20 audiobooks for 2024 and because it’s described as an “uber-twisty thriller.” Protagonist Lucca Marino has assumed a different identity in a quest to get close to her assigned “mark” (who happens to have the same surname as I did before marriage [Sumner]). Two hours into the book, the reader starts to learn what Lucca’s employers want her to get from her mark. She works for an organization that digs up dirt to blackmail people with, among other shady acts. The plot was clever, but the twists were kind of muted for me because the book had too much of an organized-crime feel.
24. Miss Morgan’s Book Brigade, by Janet Skeslien Charles. Another dual-timeline historical novel. In the more historical timeline, Jessie Carson has taken a leave of absence from the New York Public Library (NYPL) to work for the American Committee for Devastated France during WWI. In the more recent (2018) timeline, NYPL librarian and aspiring writer Wendy Peterson stumbles across a passing reference to Jessie Carson in the archives and is off to the races investigating Carson’s life.

Nonfiction

1. The Waltham Murders, by Susan Clare Zalkind. I always like to reflect on why I choose the books I choose. For this book, I don’t have an answer except that I like true crime and this one is very current (March 2024 publication). This account of a triple murder connected to the 2013 Boston Marathon bombing is written in a solid journalistic style, and the investigative research appears to be meticulous. Like many true-crime tales, The Waltham Murders uncovers botched work by law enforcement. The author was friends with one of the victims, and the story is also the subject of a Hulu documentary on the murders (which I watched) for which Zalkind was the writer. A significant premise of the book is that if the triple murder had been better investigated, the Marathon Bombing might not have happened.
2. Gravitas, by Lisa Sun. I don’t read much self-help/self-development, but I was inspired to read this one after hearing the author speak at this year’s Toastmasters convention. I appreciated her gender-informed advice on building confidence and making the most of one’s talents.
3. The Many Lives of Mama Love, by Lara Love Hardin, was an Oprah selection, and I have generally liked her choices. It was also highly touted and seemed like it would be absorbing. And it was. Writing this in late September, I can safely say that this memoir of addiction and redemption was one of my best reads this year.
4. Sociopath: A Memoir, by Patric Gagne. I chose this memoir because I was intrigued by the title, and the book seemed to get significant attention this year. It’s narrated by the author – always a dicey proposition – but Gagne is an exceptionally good narrator, and a strong narrator narrating one’s own memoir is a sublime treat. Gagne seems to assume the bulk of her readers are also sociopaths, which I am not, but I feel like I’ve known a sociopath or 2. I certainly had no idea what it feels like to be a sociopath, so Gagne’s journey is quite illuminating. It’s also brilliantly written, and I enjoyed the way she occasionally documents the writing of the book as part of her story. Writing this on the last day of November, I’m pretty sure Sociopath will end up my favorite book of the year. I had already created my collage of favorites before I read it, so I’ll have to add it.