Top Ten Lists

It's that dreary time of year when magazines and newspapers get into the business of ranking works of art. Imagine applying such a system to nature. "That tree is the best one I've seen all year!" "I really liked that river, but it wasn't as good as the one I saw last month." "Gee, that sky is such a disaster. It's the worst one I've ever been under."

To me, talking about a movie or a book in this way is equally absurd. When I go to a theater or museum or when I open a book, I don't think to myself, "Now, where will I rank this on my year-end list of reading or viewing experiences?" And if Pedro Almodovar's last movie was the best or the worst movie I saw between the dates of January 1 and December 31 2006, who cares? And five years from now, who will remember? I read, watch, and listen because I want to have an intense experience that will leave an impression. Excellence? I suppose that's nice, but I don't mind a movie or painting with flaws, as long as they're interesting flaws.

This list-making business reaches unparalleled heights of stupidity when it comes to books because there simply aren't enough days in the year to read all the books that come out in one year. Supposing you read a book a week all year long. That would mean you'd tackled fifty books out of all the ones that had been published that year (assuming that you hadn't read any books that came out earlier than the current year). Supposing you read two books a week. You'd have one hundred. Now think of how many books come out in a calendar year (a number that's somewhere in the thousands). How can anyone with a straight face claim to have read all these thousands and from these have culled a list of the Top Ten?

So rather than give you my top ten of 2006, I'm going to list here, in no particular order, some books I've read this past year that made their mark on me for one reason or another, listed in no particular order. I have no idea where The Radetzky March ranks in relation to The Mayor of Casterbridge or Veronica, but I won't forget any of these three books or the others below any time soon:

The Leopard by Tommaso di Lampedusa: I was (understandably) on a bit of an Italian lit kick this year, and this novel, about an aristocratic family on the decline in Sicily, is a classic that doesn't feel the least bit musty.

The Day of the Owl by Leonardo Sciascia: Continuing my Sicilian tour, I turned to this gripping novella about the mafia, fascism, and the culture of corruption.

The Radetzky March by Joseph Roth: A moving evocation of an Austrian dynasty trying to cling to old values while the world is changing all around them. One of the great works of European literature.

The Mayor of Casterbridge by Thomas Hardy: This book begins smashingly, with a man selling his wife and child because they're getting on his nerves (a practice that apparently was not uncommon in early nineteenth century England). Does this guy know how to tell a story or what?

Veronica by Mary Gaitskill: Gaitskill uses language with the precision of a stonecutter. An intense and moving experience.

The Last of Her Kind by Sigrid Nunez: This is a fascinating read about the sixties, sex, and class. Written as a faux-memoir, this book has the immediacy of non-fiction with all the craft we expect of a great novel.

Absurdistan by Gary Shteyngart: Funny, smart, and supremely necessary for our times.

Never Let Me Go, An Artist in the Floating World, A Pale View of Hills by Kazuo Ishiguro: Reading a bunch of this guy's work at once made me realize that Ishiguro baasically only does one thing in his fiction, but what a thing that he does! I can't think of another writer who uses unreliable narration with such confidence and deftness. These books made me want to run to my notebook and get to work.

The Captain's Fire by J. S. Marcus: A brilliant book you may not have heard of. If you like experimental fiction on historical themes like W. G. Sebald's books, this novel is for you.

Twelve Caesers by Petronius: I never thought I'd be interested in Roman history, but this chatty, gossipy, downright bitchy book had me enthralled. These guys make George W. Bush seem like a saint. I'll never forget the emperor who lost his grip on power because he stopped to tie his shoelace.

There's a start. I'm sure there are others I've forgotten to mention. Feel free to chime in with your recommendations.