Tales From the Bookcase: 10 Favorites Read in 2021 (Part 2)

I suppose I should mention that, while National Literacy Month was in November (better late than never, I suppose), one of the reasons I'm posting about books is to try and encourage those who don't normally enjoy reading much to give it a shot. And, even if you are a regular reader, maybe you'll be moved to try something outside of your preferred genre (if you have one). In other words, my evil intent is to entice with the come-hither tomfoolery of these mini reviews. It may work, it may not, but here are the final 5 books on my list of 10 favorites from last year.

6. A Maggot by John Fowles. Okay, so if the title alone doesn't cause you to run as far away from this book as possible, the fact that it is written in early 18th Century English style prose should further hasten your departure. And that's not even taking into account that the book is comprised of fictitious period newspaper clippings that are so tiny you'll need a magnifying glass to read them, actual historical documents, and transcripts from lengthy interrogation sessions between a wily investigator and various characters who, because of their "lowly status", he continually underestimates. And, despite the seemingly straightforward initial narrative, it is actually anything but. If the thought of all that makes you go hmmm, it would really be a shame if you decide to give A Maggot a pass. Because it's really, really good, perhaps the most genius book on this list. Ostensibly, the book is a mystery, or at least starts out that way. Possibly strategizing that there is safety in numbers, a group of strangers sets forth from London on horseback and travels through the English countryside. Among the five travelers are the prodigal son of a nobleman and his deaf, mute servant. This small procession stops at a rural inn for the night, setting in motion a strange series of events that soon finds one traveler hanged and several others missing. The resulting investigation (instigated by the mysterious nobleman), along with some very obscure clues, propels the story towards an unexpected and thought-provoking finale. It's no spoiler to say that, despite all appearances, nothing is what it seems. A Maggot is not for lazy readers (which I can sometimes be), or for anyone easily daunted by a tale that may initially appear to be impenetrable (for that, see James Joyce's Ulysses). But, like John Fowles' other great book on this list (The Magus), you don't need an advanced degree to enjoy this tale. You only need to be patient and open to an intellectually challenging puzzle. Because, in the end, that's exactly what this is: an enigmatic puzzle of the highest order. Or, put more succinctly, a most dazzling bit of mindfuckery. A Maggot isn't a quick read and, more than once, you will likely find yourself reaching for your thesaurus (online, of course) and magnifying glass. However, I found this book well worth the time and effort it demanded from my befogged, overcaffeinated brain. And, just so you know, the title does not refer to the larva of a fly but, rather, something else entirely. Something strange and--maybe--extraordinary.

7. Tombstone: The Earp Brothers, Doc Holliday, and the Vendetta Ride From Hell by Tom Clavin. If you've seen the film with Kurt Russell and Val Kilmer, you may think you know all there is to know about the historic Gunfight at the OK Corral, and Tom Clavin's book certainly covers everything you saw in the movie. But, there's so much more depth and detail in Clavin's book that, if you're interested at all in the history of the Old West, the customs and ambiguities of its denizens, and their everyday  struggles, Tombstone is a must-read. Tombstone, AZ of course, was one of the last wild-and-wooly boomtowns of the frontier, and Clavin vividly brings to life a near-lawless city of silver-miners, gamblers, ranchers, outlaws and adventurers. Into this cauldron rode the Earp Brothers (Wyatt, Virgil and Morgan), along with Doc Holliday, and all the wives, lovers, and camp followers of this close-knit group determined to bring law and order to an increasingly volatile community. In real life (and in Clavin's book), the "good guys" aren't always good, but the bad guys are pretty much uniformly awful. It's an exciting, well-done re-telling of a familiar bit of  American history that has often been simplified and over-glamorized. If you've never heard of Tom Clavin, one of his previous books is Dodge City: Wyatt Earp, Bat Masterson, and the Wickedest Town in the American West, which serves as a sort of prequel to Tombstone. Dodge City, also an excellent book, fills in much of Wyatt Earp's earlier, pre-Tombstone history. Having been born and partly raised in the Texas and Oklahoma Panhandles, I grew up on tales of cowboys and outlaws, with some of each perched in the branches of my family tree, so I could be a little biased towards this book. 

8. Wild Animals I Have Known: Polk Street Diaries and After by Kevin Bentley. So let me get this out of the way right up front. This is NOT a book for everyone. Any resemblance to Armistead Maupin's Tales of the City is.....well, there is none, actually. Kevin Bentley's bacchanalian stroll down memory lane (taken directly from the pages of his diaries) is a no-holds-barred account that doesn't skimp on the down-and-dirty details of a libidinous young gay man's search for sex, love and enlightenment in a city edging towards cataclysm. Barely into his 20's, Bentley fled his morally stifling hometown in Texas for the liberated paradise of 1970's San Francisco which, as this memoir makes abundantly clear, welcomed him into the fold with open arms, legs and various other body parts. In fact, there's actually a whole lotta welcoming going on in Kevin's book, along with loves found and lost, farewells and remembrances, and, a sense of finding a place in the world, even after that world has been upended. Wild Animals I Have Known is not an AIDS memoir, and although AIDS looms large throughout much of the book, Bentley's style is always matter-of-fact, often downright hilarious, and never sentimental or manipulative. True, some sections--okay many sections--have the potential to titillate or disturb some readers although that isn't really the point of the book; despite what some reviewers have said, it is not porn. But it is a wildly funny, extremely explicit and, ultimately, moving true story of one man's journey as he survives and thrives before, during and after a pandemic that almost wiped out an entire generation of gay men. By the way, I originally planned to include Christopher Isherwood's outstanding classic memoir, Christopher and His Kind (which I read for the first time in 2021), in place of this book, but given that there is a pandemic currently sweeping through the world, I chose this instead. My description should give you an idea of whether or not this book is for you but Kevin Bentley's story could  have well been my own story (had I lived in San Francisco and possessed one whit of Bentley's writing talent), and I find it very easy to identify and empathize with this author. 

9. Bryant and May: Oranges and Lemons by Christopher Fowler. Let this recommendation serve as one for the entire series of Bryant and May mysteries that have charmed and enthralled me for nearly two decades. In fact, it's impossible for me to overstate just how much this series has meant to me, both as a reader of mysteries and a fan of unconventional characters (real and imagined). Christopher Fowler's delightful tales have lifted my spirits and raised me from the depths of despair on more than one occasion over the years. It has become customary for the books to be released in the U.S. each December, so I've always rushed to purchase the latest on the day of its release. Oranges and Lemons, published last year, is the second-to-last Bryant and May novel (sadly, I just finished the series finale, Bryant and May: London Bridge Is Falling Down last week). A little background on the series: Arthur Bryant and John May are the elderly, energetic, exceedingly senior detectives of London's Peculiar Crimes Unit, a specialized group founded during WWII to investigate particularly ghastly crimes that might prove too delicate (i.e., embarrassing to the country's elite) for public consumption. Bryant and May have been members of the PCU since the London Blitz (see Full Dark House, the first book in the series) and from the very beginning, their tenure--indeed, that of the entire unit--has been on shaky ground. Arthur Bryant's numerous eccentricities, his hodgepodge of idiosyncratic informants and consultants (clairvoyant and otherwise), his encyclopedic knowledge of London's arcane history and esoterica, his slouchy dress mode and downright rude manner--as well as his unorthodox yet brilliant detection methods--often puts him at odds with his elegant, longtime partner, as well as the higher-ups in the police force. John May, on the other hand, is a dapper gent, always informed on the latest high tech advances, resourceful and a masterful detective in his own right, and, as it happens, still quite successful with the ladies. They're a great and dynamic duo, both as friends and colleagues, and Arthur Bryant is seriously the greatest uncle I never had. There are 18 Bryant and May books in print, plus two books of short stories, and I'd suggest reading the novels in order, starting with Full Dark House. The plots of the books, labyrinthine and dynamic though they be, are almost beside the point: the characters in these books are everything. This  series does have its fair share of gore and grue but it's so well-written and so solidly entertaining, that only the faintest of heart will be put off their dinner by the intermittent scenes of carnage. Probably not a series for curmudgeons or fans of darker, hard-boiled detective novels (although I like those, too), the Bryant and May series should appeal to anyone who appreciates an amusingly diverse cast, madcap adventures, snappy dialogue, and a liberal dose of humor built around an outwardly perplexing mystery. 

10. Peril by Bob Woodward and Robert Costa. Too soon?  I read so many (for me) good books this past year that I was really torn on whether or not I wanted to include this recent display of American madness on my list. Don't get me wrong, it's a gripping read, and, as you know, Woodward and Costa are first-rate reporters. But, part of me just goes ewww at the thought of recommending this book. I mean, I'd like to forget these people even exist and, well, close the book, as it were, on that chapter in our nation's history. However, we know that's not happening so, with that in mind, I think it behooves readers to check out this unsettling look back at the 45th president's final months in office, the immediate aftermath (including Jan. 6), how we got there and where we may be going. There are clearly defined heroes who repeatedly averted disaster by standing between a determinedly autocratic, unraveling president and the protections provided by the Constitution of the United States. Peril lauds these heroes, some of whom are still on guard, while condemning those who aided and abetted one of the most venal administrations in U.S. history. In reality, that administration, right up to the 45th president (but not limited to him), resemble nothing so much as caricatures, malevolent and ridiculous figures in a darkly comic satire skewering the corrupt machinations of the ruling class in a backwards republic. It's still hard to believe that Peril is non-fiction, even after living through that sad, sick period. Unfortunately, not all the key players presented in Peril have shown their hands so we can't really know how this will play out in the end. I think it goes without saying, that the peril, while temporarily subdued, continues to exist, and that, by tragic necessity, Woodward and Costa may yet have more books to add to this absorbing, if infuriating, series. As much as I appreciate their reporting, I hope not. 

As I mentioned above, I read a lot of really good books in 2021 but there's not room in a Top 10 list for more than 10, unfortunately. There is also the constant, ever-growing stack of books on the bedside table, although the stack is now horizontally arranged, the situation having become dire and unpredictable when the height of the stack reached tipping status. Anyhow, I was unable to get to a number of those books last year but am doing so now, even as we speak. Well, maybe not as "we speak", but, well...you know. I already noted Christopher and His Kind above, but a couple of other honorable mentions from 2021 are Naomi Wolf's excellent and controversial Outrages: Sex, Censorship, and The Criminalization of  Love, and Susan Quinn's well-researched history of FDR's Federal Theatre Project, Furious Improvisation. If you are reading this and had a book published last year--you know who you are--it's not that I liked or disliked your book, I just haven't gotten to it yet. It's in the stack and I look forward to reading it soon. I realize that my choices here are highly subjective, but if anyone is moved to read any of the books mentioned in this list, let me know what you liked or disliked about it!