Best books of 2021
featuring a bunch of Irish writers, some twisty crime, a bit of YA & kidlit, & more
I know, you haven’t asked. Shhh.
Irish writers with books out this year I adored: possibly too many to mention, but let’s start with a few debut titles: Roisin Kiberd’s superb essay collection, The Disconnect; Fiona Scarlett’s heartbreaker of a novel, Boys Don’t Cry; Eimear Ryan’s campus-novel-meets-family-mystery Holding Her Breath; Una Mannion’s coming-of-age tale, A Crooked Tree; Kerri ní Dochartaigh’s beautiful and devastating memoir, Thin Places; critic Sarah Gilmartin’s debut, Dinner Party; and actress and activist Evanna Lynch taking to the page with her memoir, The Opposite of Butterfly Hunting.
And two to watch out for next year: Edel Coffey’s topical and page-turn-y Breaking Point (out in January), about one busy mother’s horrible mistake, and Catherine Prasifka’s None Of This Is Serious (coming in April), which captures current Life-As-A-Young-Woman more accurately than I have ever seen.
From the more established Irish crew: Emma Donoghue’s pandemic novel came out in paperback this year, so it still counts; The Pull of the Stars is gripping and immersive, a thriller in a maternity hospital. Sophie White’s memoir-with-a-slant, Corpsing, is brutal in its honesty. Intimacies by Lucy Caldwell is gorgeous. Lisa Harding’s second novel, Bright Burning Things, is mighty. Kevin Power’s White City impressed the hell out of me. And I am terribly biased on this one, but Deirdre Sullivan’s short story collection I Want To Know That I Will Be Okay, is both creepy and heartbreaking.
Poetry books from Ireland and abroad: Victoria Kennefick’s Eat Or We Both Starve and Annemarie Ní Chuirreáin’s The Poison Glen struck me for their distinctively Irish yet modern, feminist takes on the world. (I would suggest reading the latter alongside Claire Keegan’s very fine novella Small Things Like These - lots of resonances.) The Staying Human anthology from Bloodaxe (published at the end of last year) is also one to hold close, as is Tomorrow Is Beautiful (ed. Sarah Crossan).
A thing I have been particularly drawn to this year is Crime Novels About Writers - there are people who love such books and others who find the idea of writers-writing-about-writers very tiresome. I am in the former camp. On this list we have Who Is Maud Dixon? by Alexandra Andrews, a twisty read about a mysterious bestseller; The Plot by Jean Hanff Korelitz, about plagiarism and appropriation; and finally the gorgeous, immensely pleasing Dream Girl by Laura Lippman, which managed to be both ‘something I was looking forward to so very much’ and ‘something which exceeded my expectations’.
Other crime novels I adored: the new Megan Abbott, The Turnout, which is a bit like Flowers In The Attic for grownups; Richard Osman’s cosy-yet-sharp The Man Who Died Twice; the delightfully twisty Rock Paper Scissors by Alice Feeney; and Catherine Ryan Howard’s utterly brilliant 56 Days.
More generally: Small: On Motherhoods by Claire Lynch is one of those perfectly-formed and short, precise memoirs. I was (pleasantly) surprised at how much I enjoyed the new Jodi Picoult novel, Wish You Were Here - she is on form in this one. And Meg Mason’s Sorrow and Bliss hit hard.
Elizabeth Strout gets her own paragraph because, well, Elizabeth Strout. She is exquisite. Here be my thoughts on: Amy & Isabelle; My Name Is Lucy Barton; Anything Is Possible; and Oh, William!
Books that helped me make sense of the world a tiny bit, although not published this year: Jon Ronson’s So You’ve Been Publicly Shamed (even though there’s a lot about the specifically gendered nature of this stuff that he does not quite get); and then Brené Brown’s Braving The Wilderness and Megan Phelps-Roper’s Unfollow, both of which invite empathy over polarisation and black-and-white, good-and-evil thinking.
Other older titles: I read a few more Anne Tylers this year and Saint Maybe joins the list of Favourite Anne Tyler Novels. Amy Bloom’s White Houses, which looks at Eleanor Roosevelt’s friendship and likely love affair with reporter Lorena Hickok, is very much worth reading. And I finally finally finally read Nora Ephron’s Heartburn, which is hilarious and heartbreaking and yes, yes, I know, how has it taken me so long to read such a gem? But on the other hand, what a treat to have been able to devour it in a grey year.
On the YA side, Caroline O’Donoghue’s All Our Hidden Gifts marks the start of a delicious new series for teens involving tarot, magic, and a sharp take on contemporary Ireland. Ciara Smyth is another Irish writer to watch out for, with her second novel Not My Problem out this year, and Sarah Moore Fitzgerald is on top form with her latest, All The Money In The World. Beyond these shores, William Sutcliffe’s The Summer We Turned Green is a hilarious look at environmental issues, and Bonnie-Sue Hitchcock’s Everyone Dies Famous In A Small Town is simply excellent.
Kidlit-wise I loved Oliver Jeffers’s There’s A Ghost In This House more than is reasonable for anyone over the age of six, and loved the kindness and compassion of The Wind May Blow (Sasha Quinton and Thomas Hegbrook), The World Awaits (Tomos Roberts and Nomoco), A Hug For You (David King and Rhiannon Archard), and Outside, Inside (LeUyen Pham). And Don’t Worry, Little Crab by Chris Haughton (board book edition out this year, for the small people who like both reading and chewing on books) spoke to me: are we not all Little Crab sometimes?