January Wrap-Up

I always start the year with the intention to breeze through a stack of books whilst work is quiet, I’m not back at uni, and the social calendar has quietened down after the holiday break, but inevitably other things come up (including impromptu trips to the beach to capitalise on the glorious weather at the moment). Regardless, I still managed to get through seven books, with a good mix of genres and generally feel that most of the books were excellent and I was starting my year of reading off on the right foot with one surprise read and one disappointment.

After looking at my reading statistics for 2021, I realised that I read way more non-fiction than fiction and am trying to be conscious of alternating evenly between them to balance them out a bit, especially since I love reading contemporary and literary fiction. I managed an almost even split in January, with three fiction books, and four non-fiction (and I’m about halfway through Kudos by Rachel Cusk which will balance that figure out).

My favourite read in January was without a doubt Cultish by Amanda Montell. Cultish explores the language of belonging, from well-known cults such as the Peoples Temple (i.e. Jonestown), to the cult-like branding of businesses like Soulcycle and multi-level-marketing organisations (MLMs). Montell takes the reader down the pyramid of cults, building upon linguistic theory that ties innocuous organisations together in cult status based largely on the foundation that we as humans want to belong and/or have meaning in our lives. Montell’s writing is upbeat and reflective despite the seriousness of the topic and it was impossible to put this book down.

The discussion of Jonestown in Cultish reminded me of a book that remained unread on my shelf - Beautiful Revolutionary by Laura Elizabeth Woollett. Beautiful Revolutionary is a fictional retelling of the Jonestown story and follows a collective of characters from their early contact with Jim Jones to their eventual demise. After reading Cultish I was drawn to Beautiful Revolutionary to see the less analytical discussion of cults and whilst the book was largely exceptional in its ability to convey first-person experience, it didn’t live up to the expectations I had from the hype around this book when it was published in 2018. The writing felt inconsistent and disorderly, with random characters appearing in the final few chapters, and quick shifts to focus on peripheral characters rather than tell a more fulsome story about the ‘main cast’. Though Woollett is able to paint Jim Jones as a narcissist, the narrative fails to illustrate his allure which was critical to the events which culminated at Jonestown — rather, it relies on a series of restatements of his being so that it became an annoyance in my reading of the book. I was relieved to finish this book and donate it to my local street library.

My better fiction reads in January were The Weekend by Charlotte Wood and Death in her Hands by Ottessa Moshfegh. The Weekend was a light and easy read, relatable in its embodiment of Australian culture and set amongst neighbourhoods I am familiar with. I was drawn to read more by Wood after reading The Luminous Solution in which Wood described her creative process and the impact of the pandemic and lockdowns. Moshfegh was what I was really looking forward to though. I had read My Year of Rest and Relaxation in 2021 and loved it (after I came to terms with my initial annoyance at some of the characters). Moshfegh has a talent for writing prickly characters which refuse to play into existing tropes and instead live honestly amongst her pages. Death in her Hands draws the reader in with a mystery and indicates a possible internal spiral, though the unreliable narrator fails to answer the frustrations on the reader in their pursuit. My only criticism of this book is the persistent and totally unnecessary fatphobic comments. Though some have commented that these are the words of the protagonist (or perhaps they are also the antagonist in this one-woman act?) and are designed to communicate the nature of the character, it still feels excessive and harmful, when other comments are devices could have been used to achieve the same outcome. Consequently, I would be wary to recommend this book to those who have experienced or continue to experience body dysmorphia, bullying or body-shaming, or disordered eating.

I closed the month off with a book by a familiar author: Puff Piece by John Safran. After a few books which contained some distressing content, it was a welcome change to be reading something serious but laced with Safran’s wit. In truth, Puff Piece contains a story about the role of Big Tobacco in the growing vaping industry which could have been a long-form news article. However, as much of the facts have not caused a significant stir in the media is what demands inquiry, analysis, and a generous dose of humour because, spoiler alert, capitalism is the driver of every concerning discovery in the book and what millennial author would be able to resist the call of nihilistic comedy in those circumstances?! As much as Safran’s writing style and antics are somewhat predictable, the route he takes with each work is always an interesting journey for the reader.

You can see what I’m reading each month on The Storygraph!