My Favorite Reads of 2020

Hi. It’s me: Gene. Welcome to my favorite reads of 2020.

I should state now that these aren’t my favorite books that were published in 2020. Some certainly came out in 2020, but others have been out for a while now. One in particular, Joy Williams’s The Changeling, came out in 1978. No, these are the best books that I read in 2020. And I read a lot of books.

Maybe you’re thinking, “Gene! How could you not include (insert name of book that came out this year)?” Well, one reason could be that I didn’t get a chance to read it yet. Another reason could be that this whole thing is subjective. “Best of” lists are dangerous, I know. But I’m going for it anyway.

The books I loved this year are a testament to my love for great storytelling—no matter what kind of world it takes place in. There’s realistic fiction, sci-fi, fantasy, modern fable. In other words, as long as the fiction is character-driven (aka “literary”), that’s all that matters. Plot is important, of course. Conflict, tension, etc.—all great stuff. But, at the end of the day, for me it’s all about the characters.

So, without further ado, I give you my favorite reads of 2020. Here’s hoping that one or more strikes your fancy enough to buy it from your local independent bookstore. Or, if you don’t have one, from your local Barnes & Noble. Anywhere but Amazon, really. Click a title below to learn more about it at bookshop.org. Happy reading.

The list:

The Changeling, by Joy Williams. 

I Hold a Wolf By the Ears, by Laura Van Den Berg.

Ghostwritten, by David Mitchell. 

Goodnight, Beautiful Women, by Anna Noyes.

The Bear, by Andrew Krivak. 

The Whole Story and Other Stories, by Ali Smith. 

Exhalation, by Ted Chiang.

Lake Life, by David James Poissant.

How Much of These Hills Is Gold, by C Pam Zhang.

What Are You Going Through, by Sigrid Nunez.

"Florida: Stories," by Lauren Groff

I grew up in Florida, spent 30 years of my life there. I know it relatively well. Its sinkholes and hurricanes and eternal flatness. Its mix of oaks and palms rinsed from 20-minute summer showers. Its stretches of stripmalls and parking lots and residential sprawl: construction wiping out nature and replacing it with cookie-cutter stucco homes. There’s no place like Florida; among many other things, it embodies a kind of uniqueness you not only see and hear, but also feel, quite physically, with its heft of humidity.

In her outstanding short-story collection, Florida (recently named a National Book Award finalist), Lauren Groff beautifully captures the singularity of the state, as well as the people trying to make a life within its lines. Groff quietly laces her stories with dangers—of both the natural and the human kind. Hurricanes, reptiles, and slippery relationships course through the narratives—and they do so in Groff’s typical lush, rich language.

From “Ghosts and Empties”:

The neighborhood goes dark as I walk, and a second neighborhood unrolls atop the daytime one. We have few street lights, and those I pass under make my shadow frolic; it lags behind me, gallops to my feet, gambols on ahead.

She occasionally leaves peninsular Florida, as in the story “Dogs Go Wolf.” And while we find ourselves on an island in this particular piece, still it could almost sum up the collection’s overall mood: 

The storm came and erased the quiet. Well, the older sister thought, an island is never really quiet. Even without the storm, there were waves and wind and air-conditioners and generators and animals moving out there in the dark.

Groff simply has that incredible talent of evoking powerful emotion through subtlety. Of unveiling a world that moves readers, without tripping into sentimentality. Her storytelling is brilliant—even when it occurs in the swampy, crawling darkness of Florida.

If you’re in or near NYC, she’ll be speaking with Daisy Johnson at Books Are Magic in Brooklyn, on January 28.