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I read 203 books in 2020. These were my favourites. I have chosen the ones that spoke to me most clearly or usefully during that rotten year.
I know many people found reading hard last year, understandably. I clung to it when I couldn't write, watch films or sleep. That total of 203 is primarily evidence of anxiety, therefore; I kept going because I didn't know what else to do.
So go easy on yourselves. And me. x
PS. If you were only to read two, I think they should be Heligoland by Shena Mackay, a beautiful novel about anxiety, community and modernist architecture, and Lore Segal's Her First American, a book all about the shitshow of 2020 set during the 1950s and published in 1985.
