2016 is already slipping through our fingers quickly. This weekend marks the Academy Award Ceremony, as well as the end of leap year February. I just barely got through screening the Big Five categories (Best Picture, Director, Actor, Actress, and Screenplay), finishing last night with The Danish GirlWhew, I think this might be the first year that I have actually pulled it off–all 17 different films if I counted right. 

Image courtesy of ABC and CC 2.0 license.
Image courtesy of ABC and CC 2.0 license.

A few people have asked me why I dedicate so much time each year trying to watch as many films from the Big Five ballot as possible. I started this practice back in my junior year of undergraduate, inspired by my friend Aaron Smith (@OGNetflix), who took this season as an opportunity to bond with friends and family. He’d screen each nominated film with a different group or individual, using the time to have thoughtful conversations about cinema, while simultaneously catching up on his friends’ lives. Since I started copying Aaron, I now can’t wait for the months of December-February because of how many great memories I have made with people while going to see films. Last year, I remember seeing Birdman on a double date; I came out being the only person underwhelmed by the film but it made for a feisty and memorable conversation afterwards in Starbucks. This year, I got to see Brooklyn at a LACMA & Film Independent advance screening with a dear friend. We both laughed and cried a lot through the film, and now the film is attached indelibly in my mind with our friendship, that evening, and the many subsequent conversations we’ve had about how we were touched by that story.

But there is another reason why I painstakingly try to check each film off my list: it’s a matter of discipline in my content consumption. With today’s algorithms on sites like Facebook, Twitter and Netflix, we have become increasingly more accustomed to only seeing the content that we want to see and the content that aligns with our personal interests and ideologies. We actually have to go out-of-the-way to engage with material that challenges us or makes us feel uncomfortable. However, if you commit to follow a list generated by a third-party organization like the Academy Awards, you are more likely to encounter content that falls outside of your normal preferences–content that you may find you actually really enjoy or appreciate. That’s how, a couple of years ago, my husband and I ended up bawling our eyes out in the car after seeing the utterly incredible French film Amour (which, by the way, should have received much greater recognition).

I use this same practice with a variety of content, but with books in particular. I have belonged to several book clubs over the years, both with local friends and on Goodreads, and I’ve been steadily working through the Pulitzer, Nebula, and Hugo Award winners when I can. Both those lists and those communities have introduced me to some of my favorite authors and pieces of literature, such as American Gods by Neil Gaiman and Americanah by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie. Plus it takes some of the mental effort out of having to choose your next film or book! Just go with whatever’s next on the list.

So next year, give it a try with the Oscars and tell me what the experience is like for you. Or if you are more into reading, you can check out this year’s Nebula nominees that were announced six days ago. I haven’t read any of them, so I’d love to hear your thoughts on the choices.

Happy listing!

Featured image courtesy of LincolnBluesdistributed by permission of CC 2.0 license.

This next list is a bit different because the choices were not selected from entries produced in the last year. I do not read nearly enough contemporary fiction to single out a top 5 list, so instead this is simply the top 5 works of any fiction, published anytime, that I read in 2015. 

  1. The Sparrow by Mary Doane Russell
    (And its sequel Children of God)

    This is a book about Jesuits in space. It’s a mind-blowing exploration of the implications of Earth-oriented anthropology, philosophy, and theology on a different planet, inhabited by different sentient species. Chances are if you see me on a regular basis, you have heard me obsess about this book. (I actually wrote a review on it last year.) It’s not a light nor easy read. It will likely affect you viscerally. And it will change the way you think about the order of the world around you.
    If you pick it up, make sure to read the sequel right after. Children of God ties up quite a few loose ends, and it provides some much-needed emotional resolution.
    Kudos to Andy Motz for the recommendation.

  2. Red Mars by Kim Stanley Robinson

    Red Mars is another tale set in space, but unlike The Sparrow which is light science fiction, Red Mars belongs quite definitively to the hard sci-fi genre. The delineation of light/hard in science fiction essentially references how “sciencey” the writers gets. If a writer regularly uses complex physics or biochemical equations and notions throughout the text that go straight over your head, then it’s probably hard sci-fi. I am certainly not a scientist, but I have come to love hard sci-fi because it opens up perspectives that I, as a humanities person, don’t often consider.
    Red Mars is the first book in a trilogy documenting mankind’s colonization of Mars. The sequels are Green Mars and Blue Marsso as you might guess, this is also a story about humanity’s transformation of the red planet into something that more resembles Earth. The science of the transformation itself is fascinating (Robinson spent years researching the terraforming of Mars to get his facts right), but even more fascinating is the political, economical, and social ramifications that take place as a result of the physical transformation of the land. As with The Sparrow, Robinson addresses some really interesting philosophical implications underpinning our assumptions about biology and ecology. In addition, his characters are super interesting and complicated.
    Kudos to Aaron Kleist for the recommendation.

  3. Fates & Furies by Lauren Groff

    This is actually a book that came out in 2015, and it is truly phenomenal. Believe all the hype. Groff tells a sort of post-modern epic about a strangely complex marriage in which everything is both as it seems and simultaneously not. The first half of the book documents the marriage from his perspective, and then the second half shifts to hers, following a pattern that has been popularized in films like Gone Girl. The text is saturated with nods to classical mythology and Arthurian romances, building multiple layers of meaning into every scene and every encounter. While in some senses, this is an easy read, if you read it quickly, you will miss the subtle depth to Groff’s prose. As I result, I would recommend working through the text attentively and consider reading it with some friends and discussing it together. For those of you who are sensitive to content in books, just a heads up that there is quite a lot of sexual content in this novel. (As is fitting for a book that is following in the path of the great Greek epics . . . )
    Kudos to Becky Boss-Masi & The Sophias Book Club for the recommendation.

  4. Americanah by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

    If you have listened to Beyoncé’s track Flawless, you may be familiar with Nigerian writer Chimamanda Ngozi Adichi, who is sampled on the track. Otherwise you may have also seen one of her TEDTalks, my favorite being “The Danger of the Single Story,” or you may have actually read one of her novels. I’m one of those people who had seen her TEDTalks and knew about her connection to Beyoncé, but had never actually picked up any of her written work until I read this for a book club. I had no idea what to expect, so I was pleasantly surprised to discover this intriguing story about a Nigerian woman, Ifemelu, accustomed to her relatively comfortable urban life in Lagos, who moves to the United States and must navigate not only a dramatic shift of culture, but also a sudden reduction of her societal status. While my story is quite different to hers (for instance, I didn’t have to combat the racial tensions that Ifemelu experienced), there were many moments throughout the novel that I resonated strongly with, from my own emigration experience, leaving South Africa for Tennessee. Even for those without a similar experience, Adichie addresses her audience through Ifemelu with such intimacy that it is easy to forget that one is not reading an autobiography.
    Woven throughout this beautifully told narrative are fascinating philosophical and sociological examinations about topics such as the replacement of the intellectual life with an academic life. She also dives right into messy conversations about race and gender, making some extremely bold but insightful statements without hesitation. This juxtaposition of Ifemelu’s vulnerability and transparency with Adichie’s sharp analysis of culture is what makes the book such an incredible read. I look forward to reading more of her fiction.
    Kudos to Cambria Hayashino and the American Spirits Book Club for the recommendation.

  5. Persepolis by Marjane Satrapi

    Finally, we get to number five, which is completely different in genre from the previous four. Tada! A graphic novel. I was assigned this one for class, and I actually got to teach it. Quite simply, its a fictional retelling in comic form of the author, Marjane’s, childhood and adolescence as a young Iranian woman during the rise of the Ayatollah Khomeini. Like AmericanahPersepolis explores themes about migration and diaspora, following Marjane to Austria, where her parents send her during the unrest. It also unpacks the complications and nuances of womanhood and identity, especially within a nation that was secular at her birth but then morphed into an Islamic state.
    While the themes and setting are heavy and often bleak, the story is delightful since it is told from a child’s perspective. Using this framing device, Satrapi offers a sense of wonder and naiveté to aspects of the world towards which we might otherwise be cynical or ignorant.
    She also inspired my new obsession in graphic novels–there will definitely be one or two on next year’s top five list. (I’m collecting recommendations so post below!)

Special Mention: Bone Clocks and Slade House by David Mitchell

Mitchell writes wonderfully chilling urban fantasy. I fell in love with Cloud Atlas, so this past year, I decided to pick up The Bone Clocks and the accompanying Slade House, which came out in 2015. Both were fantastic and well worth a read. I wrote a review on Slade House recently as well.

Special Mention: The Graveyard Book by Neil Gaiman

Gaiman is another one of my favorite fantasy writers that I discovered in recent years. I’ve been steadily working through his material, and I finally got to The Graveyard Book, a chilling but simultaneously lovely story about a little boy raised by ghosts. Because as the book tells us, it takes a graveyard to raise a child.

As a bonus, if you are interested, here is my Goodread’s Year in Books.

What happens when you enter Slade House?
That question is central to David Mitchell’s newest book, asked through the very design of the book itself. Unlike most novels, Slade House is compact and almost square with a large window cut out of the front cover. Through the window, cubic lines spiral geometrically into a nothingness occupied only by the words “A Novel,” which lie limply staring up at the reader with seeming remorse. This is a book of scientific proportions, not your average horror/thriller. As the keys on either side of the window suggest, we the readers are invited to enter into a world less fictional than Mitchell would like us to assume.

We next open the yellow cover which is at once both welcoming and reminiscent of a traffic light’s warning to slow down. Bordering the “pit of despair” is a collection of rooms seemingly borrowed from a Clue board: “solarium”, “tea room”, “library”, “meditation room”, and the . . . “trophy room” ?? Suddenly we realize that the spiraling pit is, in fact, a staircase with doors leading off to different floors of a beautiful, old house. But no explanation is given for the scarlet runes inscribed over certain rooms in Slade House, written in the same hue as the words “A Novel.” We are left again with the opening question: what happens when you enter Slade House?

Of course I can’t tell you the answer to that question, but what I can tell you, is that despite the danger, it is well worth peeking through the little black iron gate that leads to Slade House. As with his prior acclaimed novels, The Bone Clocks and Cloud Atlas, Mitchell quickly submerges his readers in a world so similar to our own, but governed by slightly different, strange yet believable rules that fascinate the mind and challenge one’s assumptions. (For those of you who have read The Bone Clocks, consider Slade House a short excursion into that same universe.) 

Like Slade House itself, this book will likely take a hold on you. But don’t be afraid; you’ll probably make it out on the other end.

 

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