Books don’t let you down, people let you down.

And that’s why books are important. Forget AI: who needs that when we have books? Deeply flawed human beings moonlight as poets, playwrights, and novelists, and sibyl-like fall into a trance to chart the nuances of our changing culture. They mourn or satirize the economy, waste and conspicuous consumption, hatred and schadenfreude, and the extreme violence that destroys our already dying (dead?) planet.

Every year I sift my book journal for trends in my reading. My saddest interest in 2024 is the culture of “forgetting”: the blasé acceptance of climate change; a new feminist backlash, the elimination of American Studies and Women’s Studies departments from universities; the dearth of nature as industrial farming takes over every inch of land; life-threatening battles over lands, oil, and estates; and an earnest reminder that, even in our favorite Jane Austen and Georgette Heyer novels, money and marriage are intertwined.

These are not necessarily the best novels I’ve read this year, but they are the most memorable. I hope you enjoy reading about them!

The End of Civilization

Science fiction writers often embed controversial warnings about the future of Earth in their narratives. That is certainly true of the controversial Philip Wylie, who was put under house arrest in 1945 after the publication of his short story, “The Paradise Crater” (1945). In this story, he revealed information about the atom bomb a few months before the U.S. tested it successfully at Alamogordot.

Wylie’s last science fiction novel, The End of the Dream (1972), is a long, fascinating political rant about an ecological holocaust that decimates all but a tiny percentage of the population. Not only could it happen here, it has happened during heat bulb events in India. (The heat bulb is not the catalyst in Wylie’s novel, though.) The End of the Dream is a bit lopsided, but it is the most fascinating, utterly weird book I’ve read this year. And it’s a wonder Wylie didn’t get arrested for this book too. Well, he died. And, fortunately, the book is in print: it has been reissued by the University of Nebraska Press. (You can read my post about Wylie here.)

This fall, I was also fascinated by Frank Baker’s novel The Birds, a prototype for Daphne du Maurier’s macabre 1952 short story, “The Birds,” which was the basis for Alfred Hitchcock’s movie The Birds. .

The elderly narrator of Baker’s novel recalls the days before civilization fell. As a bored young insurance clerk in London, he spent much of his time writing poetry at his desk. One day he looks out the window and notices a flock of strange birds flying over Trafalgar Square. An old woman tries to feed them: a bird attacks her and follows her into the underground, where she is pecked to death in a phone booth. It turns out she was not a simple old woman who fed the birds but a procurer. The birds kill many people: some are simply in the way, others seem to be killed because of some egregious deed.

The birds get more aggressive as time goes on. Sometimes a single bird detaches itself from the flock and follows one person everywhere, even tapping at the person’s windows at night. This happens first to the narrator’s mother, then to him. It is terrifying and embarrassing. When the narrator meets Olga, a Russian immigrant , she explains that she had been followed by a bird, too, but you can get rid of the shadow bird if you look at it, let it do what it wants, and don’t show fear.

Without the assistance of the outsider (Olga, the immigrant), he would not have survived. And the birds bring about the ruin and collapse of civilization. (You can read the rest of the post here.)

Both Frank Baker and Philip Wylie are telling us what may or may not be true: that few will survive the end of civilization, whether wrought by corrupt technology or human greed.

A Pastoral Novella

Cousin Phillis, by Elizabeth Gaskell, a novella. In her gorgeous, lyrical style, Gaskell describes the unspoiled countryside before the railroads were built. The narrator, Paul Manning, is reminiscing about his youth and his happy times at Hope Farm. He left home at 17 to work to as a clerk for an engineer who planned railway lines. Not knowing what to do in his leisure, Paul decided to visit some cousins he had never met. Their home, Hope Farm, is idyllic, and his contact with the pastoral life balances Paul’s relationship with the industrial revolution.

Certainly this mellow farm will soothe even modern readers. Mrs. Holman prepares delicious fresh food, the like of which Paul has never tasted, while Mr. Holman, a minister and farmer, expands his mind with lively conversation. And most important is Paul’s beautiful, kind, scholarly cousin who knows Latin and Greek and is learning Italian. She is far more intellectual than he, but the two become close friends, almost like brother and sister. And then a romantic interest is introduced… Consider this a utopia compared to the previous two dystopian novels.

This year I was keeping my eye on the pastoral countryside – what’s left of it!

Who Deserves Carlice Abbey?

Birthday Party by C. H. B. Kitchin is perfect light reading for fans of Dicken’s Bleak House and Shirley Jackson’s We Have Always Lived in the Castle (a strange duo, I know). Published in 1938, this brilliant novel is the story of Carlice Abbey, a crumbling country house with a beautiful garden. There are four narrators, the elderly Isabel Carlice, who grew up at Carlice Abbey, her silly sister-in-law, Dora, her radical nephew, Ronald, who will inherit when he turns 21, and Stephen Payne, Dora’s lover. What begins as a cozy English novel turns unexpectedly creepy as we learn more about each character’s feelings about the house. Who will inherit the house? Consider this a “light” horror novel.

The Price of “Pride and Prejudice”

Everyone loves Jane Austen’s iconic Pride and Prejudice, but it wasn’t till a fifth reading that I made an unromantic observation: everything comes with a price tag. The heroine Elizabeth Bennet fiercely resists the lure of lucre when she turns down a marriage proposal from Mr. Collins, a ridiculous but well-off vicar. But she is shocked when her close friend, Charlotte, a woman somewhat older and nearer-her- marriage-expiration-date, agrees to marry this absurd little man. The truth is, Charlotte marries for money and a home.

Perhaps Elizabeth could afford to turn down Mr. Collins because the beaux just keep courting her. But Austen is satirical about the love of money and we certainly praise Elizabeth for turning down two suitors with money. But in their village society, every income and/or estate is analyzed down to the last penny. Mrs. Bennet is joyous when Mr. Bingley, a well-to-do young man, rents Netherfield and brings a small party, among them his best friend Darcy and his own two sisters. Mrs. Bennet hopes fantastically to marry off one of her daughters to Bingley. And how about Darcy, the rudest, handsomest rich man ever? Lizzie despises him and yet…

Most people read this as pure romance. But to me, the most romantic of Austen’s novels is Persuasion. The price tag dominates the Elliot family values as well, but the quiet heroine, Anne Elliot, suffers silently until in her late 20s she expresses her personal views.