Tunneling to the Center of the Earth by Kevin Wilson Today I Wrote Nothing by Daniil Kharms ĭegenerescence by James Chapman Jakob von Gunten by Robert Walser īaby Leg by Brian Evenson Kamby Bolongo Mean River by Robert Lopez The Collectors by Matt Bell Īll the Day’s Sad Stories by Tina May Hall įugue State by Brian Evenson
Natural Novel by Georgi Gospodinov Ī Jello Horse by Matthew Simmons ĭown and Out on Murder Mile by Tony O’Neill The Other City by Michal Ajvaz įor Those Whom God Has Blessed With Fingers by Ken Sparling The Complete Butcher’s Tales by Rikki Ducornet The Mirror in the Well by Micheline Aharonian Marcom Davies ĭrift and Swerve by Samuel Ligon Įverything Was Fine Until Whatever by Chelsea Martin The Restraint of Beasts by Magnus Mills Īrbitrary Tales by Daniel Borzutzky With Deer by Aase Berg įrisk by Dennis Cooper^ Mopus by Oisin Curran ĭark Paradise by Rosa Liksom The Orphan & its Relations by Elizabeth Robinson ġ9 Names for Our Band by Jibade-Khalil Huffman Port Trakl by Jaime Luis Huenun ĪM/PM by Amelia Gray Įuropeana by Patrik Ourednik The Assignment by Friedrich Durrenmatt Ĭorrection of Drift by Pamela Ryder
Not as much, probably, as the number of books I bought this year or in years before still waiting for me on the piles around my loft, which together will one day become the bricks of my future home. I limited myself to saying a single sentence about each, which was hard to keep to, and then hard to finish, because that’s a lot. Writing it down as you go, which I’ve been doing since 2001 now, helps me a lot to remember what and where and when about it. That doesn’t count, either, the books I started and gave up on: as such, the majority of the books on this list I enjoyed.Īnyway, this is what I wrote down that I read. In the formal count pulled off the list of books I hold on my hard drive I read 106 books, and probably will 2 or 3 more between now and the year’s out.
Nor does it include chapbooks, which skips a lot, because there were a lot of good chapbooks this year. Actually, I read more because even in going through the list I am seeing things I remember reading, like John Dermot Woods’s collection, and Amina Cain’s, and Tim Horvath’s novella, and Justin Sirois’s and at least a handful of others, not to mention the various books I read in manuscript form for blurbing or review or feedback or whatever, and all the other writing in magazines and where else.
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