4 Books I'm Thankful for Reading in 2024

A brief look back at some impactful stories, for Canadian Thanksgiving

Unmentioned but not Forgotten

I've written about a lot of great books and the ideas they evoke over the past year, but there are many more which don't make it into my posts (or are only briefly mentioned). I'm sure I'll eventually get to plenty of the ones I loved, and will occasionally explore the reasons I didn't love others.

But today I want to share a few meaningful books I've read so far this year, why they are important to me and perhaps why you might enjoy reading them too.

10 Minutes, 38 Seconds in this Strange World by Elif Shafak

This deeply emotional tale of a woman's life, death and aftermath in Instanbul sticks with you long after putting it down. It has strong echoes of A Thousand Splendid Suns while also asking serious questions about the idea of taking your life into your own hands; particularly when doing so goes against conservative society. It is painful but also full of hope, and I struggle to think of any SFF novel that comes close to showing such a dedicated and loving group of friends with this degree of skill.

By Luke Waller for The Financial Times

This was the first novel I read with a new book club last month, and it represented a really special feeling of community and camaraderie to make it through and discuss it. Moreover, this book was incredibly meaningful to me for its intersectional feminism given the constant friction in today's discourse. Between this novel and The Island of Missing Trees, Elif Shafak has become a great inspiration to me.

Demon Copperhead by Barbara Kingsolver

Partly a stand-in for The Poisonwood Bible and The Lacuna also by Barbara Kingsolver, I nevertheless found Demon Copperhead to be the strongest of the three I read this year. Kingsolver is a genius at exploring historic events and settings through carefully invented characters: Demon looking at the opioid epidemic in the Appalachia region, Poisonwood at the colonial violence in the Belgian Congo and Lacuna at the Communist ideals of Rivera, Kahlo and Trotsky in Mexico.

By Katty Huertas for The Washington Post

This year saw me reading a lot more general fiction, and while there were other highlights – Where the Crawdads Sing, The Heart's Invisible Furies, The Goldfinch – Barbara Kingsolver's novels felt both central to my experiences and fairly representative. There is something of a formula to all of these novels, combining coming-of-age with incredibly well-researched settings and historic events that clearly hold deep fascination to their authors. Each was emotional and gripping to a degree that my usual SFF fare often struggles to match, and each was incredibly meaningful to me in its own way.

Honeycomb by Joanne Harris

Occasionally when browsing discount bookstores online, I'll see a book in the appropriate genre, search its rating on GoodReads, and add it to my cart with no further investigation. While this has certainly left me in ownership of a few duds, it was absolutely worth the experience of discovering Honeycomb as I read it. Fittingly it even made up for the copy of Grimm's Fairy Tales I got from the same store!

All Honeycomb Illustrations by Charles Vess

Where Grimm's tales consistently disappointed me, Honeycomb's outdid every expectation I ever held. I love the cast and world Harris built out (originally sharing these individual stories on her Twitter), with characters like the Lacewing King, Honeycomb Queen, Harlequin, Barefoot Princess and more still living their quirky and inspiring little lives in my mind months after I last picked up the book.

Each of these stories is incredibly quick and meaningful, with many including illustrations by Charles Vess to add even more depth to the experience. This book reminded me of the power and beauty of fairy tales, and I couldn't recommend it highly enough to anyone else who found Grimm's a little disappointing.

The Vanished Birds by Simon Jimenez

I actually discovered this novel the same way as Honeycomb, though I imagine I'd have found it eventually anyway given that Jimenez' second novel The Spear That Cuts Through Water has gotten a lot of attention this year. The Vanished Birds shares an initial vision with Maja Lunde's The History of Bees which I also read this year, reflecting on the extinction of species due to climate change, but I thought Jimenez' book was far and away the better executed of the two.

Cover of The Vanished Birds by Simon Jimenez

This book was a treat to read, partly because it goes in some very surprising directions. It might be the strongest exploration of colonialism through the lens of science fiction I've read, which is no small feat considering how popular that theme has been over the course of the past decade. I'd love to do a deeper dive into it at some point, but thought I'd mention it here for how, like Honeycomb, it reminded me of the sheer thrilling power of imagination to tell incredible stories in wondrous worlds.

Thanksgiving

So thank you authors for sharing these lovely tales, and thank you readers for making it possible. With more stories like these, I truly believe we can have a brighter future.