Twenty-Twenty in Books
Not a bad year reading-wise
What a year 2020 was. What can be said about it, others have said more eloquently than I can. And the less said about it, the better. Let us all just rejoice that it is behind us and hope that 2021 brings better days. Before moving on, however, I am looking back on the books read during these twelve (only twelve?) strange months.
Heavy on light reading (20ish), there were also plenty of biographies (9), history (8), and popular science (8). The year saw only one work of literary fiction (Amor Towles’ excellent A Gentleman in Moscow, see below), furthering my drift away from highbrow fiction and toward non-fiction, highbrow and otherwise. There were a whopping fourteen rereads (mostly James Bond and Stephen King’s The Dark Tower series).
It came to a total of 54 books. Some of these are touched on in my mid-year overview, which is referenced in a few places below and from which some of the reviews and notes are partially lifted.
Best Light Reading
The Dark Tower Series by Stephen King, 1982–2004 ★★★★½
When I started rereading this series, I pretty much knew that it would take this category. The saga’s seven main entries were written over the course of 34 years and total nearly 4000 pages or 1,2 million words; reading them pretty much back-to-back took almost six months. And what a ride!
Combining elements of high fantasy (think The Lord of the Rings), fairy tales, Westerns (the Dollars trilogy), science fiction, and horror, the series is without a doubt Stephen King’s magnum opus. King deftly weaves the epic quest for the titular tower with beautiful characterisation and exploration of friendship, betrayal and redemption. The main protagonist, gunslinger Roland Deschain of Gilead, is a tragic and deeply human figure, both relatable and despicable, whose story is one of the most enjoyable character arcs I remember reading.
There is doom and destiny, hope and humanity, tragedy and tribulations throughout the seven books but it has to be said that the first four volumes (1982–1997) tower over the somewhat rushed final three books (2003–2004). Pun very much intended.
Rating the books one by one would look like this:
The Gunslinger, 1982 ★★★★
The Drawing of the Three, 1987 ★★★★
The Waste Lands, 1991 ★★★★½
Wizard and Glass, 1997 ★★★★½
Wolves of the Calla, 2003 ★★★½
Song of Susannah, 2004 ★★★½
The Dark Tower, 2004 ★★★★
The whole journey, however, is greater than the sum of its parts, resulting in my ★★★★½ rating of the series.
Much like the first time reading the series, when I finished the last volume, I felt like picking up the first again and reading the whole thing again. After all, ka is a wheel.
Best History
Empire of Blue Water by Stephen Talty, 2007 ★★★★
The subtitle says it all: Captain Morgan’s Great Pirate Army, the Epic Battle for the Americas, and the Catastrophe That Ended the Outlaws’ Bloody Reign.
Talty cleverly weaves together the play-by-play of Captain Henry Morgan’s adventures, their historical context and significance, and the fortunes of hypothetical pirate Roderick. This last is particularly clever device, allowing the author to draw on various sources and project a very rich picture of the life and times of the average pirate/privateer — if there ever was such a beast.
Many of Morgan’s escapades beggar belief and read more like a Hollywood script than a retelling of historical events. From the disguised fire ship (essentially an unmanned kamikaze ship full of explosives) with logs as crew and cannons at Maracaibo, to the epic battle for Old Panama City, with Morgan’s victorious army outnumbered heavily outnumbered, there is an almost overwhelming sense of adventure. Captain Morgan’s eventual fate as a civil servant in Jamaica is sobering and brings the almost fantastical story to a rather mundane end — only to be epilogued with an Act of God, seemingly aimed at the wickedness of the pirates and privateers of the Caribbean.
Best Biography
Usually I consider ties in this sort of list to be lazy but every once in a while, a tie really is in order. This is such a time, with two very different biographies sharing the top spot.
Bolívar: American Liberator by Marie Arana, 2013 ★★★★
Not only a solid account of Simón Bolívar’s life and achievements but a truly fascinating portrait of the man. The book also gives an insight into the turbulent times of Bolívar and manages to draw a clear picture of the obstacles and complications of wrangling independence from Spain for Latin America.
Confess: The Autobiography
by Rob Halford, 2020 ★★★★
When you’ve read a few rock star biographies, you know what to expect: Sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll, and in great abundance. And yes, there are drugs and there is rock ’n’ roll but there isn’t much sex. This is due to Halford being a closeted gay man until 1998 — apparently, there weren’t a lot of male groupies at Judas Priest shows.
This is, in large part, what sets Confess apart from most rock star biographies. Where you’d usually have groupie statistics and bragging over bedding celebrities, you have a lifetime’s worth of drama, comedy and tragedy stemming from Halford’s decades long struggle with his sexual orientation and its implications for his life, band and career. It is very personal and honest and the focus is, wisely, on Rob Halford rather than his leviathan of a band.
I cannot recommend the audiobook version of this biography enough. Excellently read by the author and subject, it feels very intimate. As if your chum is telling all over a pint. Throughout, both in the text and the performance, Halford comes across as a genuinely nice bloke, very humble and very human. This notwithstanding, he will always be the Metal God.
Dishonourable Mentions
Managing an average rating of 3,1 stars, I mostly steered clear of disappointment in 2020. Still, unavoidably, there were some duds along the way. Three stand out, interestingly all of them on self-improvement and lifestyle. Curious of the genre in last few years, I may give it up save for a select few books.
You Are a Badass by Jen Sincero, 2013 ½ [Yes, that “½” is a half-★]
What this one boils down to is: Just be awesome and love yourself — the success and money will come rolling in.
See full review here.
The 10x Rule
by Grant Cardone, 2011 ★½
The book is made up of equal parts good points, about half of which are arrived at through suspect logic; contradictory, condescending crackpot advice boiling down to “don‘t be a little b*tch and just be successful”; and repetition and padding to make the requisite length for publishing.
Clinches a star-and-a-half for its core points of making success your duty, setting ambitious goals and putting in the effort to achieve them.
See full review here.
Looking Out for #1
by Robert J. Ringer, 1985 ★½
Looking out for number one can be done without being a douchebag but this book isn’t really about that. It is simplistic, cynical and self-serving and the author skews the basics of human nature, psychology and the facts of life to fit his brand of looking out for oneself.
On the upside, there are some good points about taking care of yourself in order to be able to be there for others and not solving other people’s problems. Also, it’s available for free with an Audible subscription.
Honourable Mentions
Not necessarily the runner-ups and in no particular order, the three books covered here merit special attention.
Lion of Jordan by Avi Shlaim, 2007 ★★★★
A compelling account of King Hussein of Jordan and his long reign.
It gives an insight into the King’s character but its focus is the political and the historical rather than the personal. Hussein’s lifelong commitment to the struggle for a lasting peace is admirable and his refusal to give up on his quest when all hope seemed lost is awe-inspiring.
See full review here.
Who Stole Feminism? by Christina Hoff Summers, 1995 ★★★★½
This scathing critique of modern, third-wave or gender feminism in the United States is fascinating, provocative and thought provoking.
A committed classical-liberal feminist, Christina Hoff Sommers examines what she considers to be an intellectually bankrupt version of feminism, revolving around post-modern philosophies and misandrist gender politics. Interestingly, and perhaps alarmingly, many of the views and ideas she takes on seem to have become mainstream in later years. Tackling alleged excesses such as data tampering to fit the ideology, misrepresenting facts, money-grubbing opportunism and plain old misandry, Sommers pulls no punches.
In the age of intense gender politics and cancel culture, this book feels quite poignant and it is a wonder that it was written a quarter century ago.
A Gentleman in Moscow by Amor Towles, 2016 ★★★★½
This novel chronicles the life of Count Alexander Ilyich Rostov, a Russian aristocrat, after he is sentenced, by the newly installed Bolshevik regime, to life under house arrest in the hotel where he resides.
The Count is an immensely likeable character, a nobleman in the truest sense. His love of life, even as a prisoner, and his serenity in the face of adversity is inspiring. His maxim that “if a man does not master his circumstances, then he is bound to be mastered by them” is something to live by.
See full review here.
Favourite of 2020
Frankly, despite reading plenty of great books, there really was no contest. And I all but knew it for most of the year, having finished this favourite of 2020 in February.
The Blank Slate: The Modern Denial of Human Nature
by Steven Pinker, 2003 ★★★★★
In The Blank Slate, cognitive psychologist Steven Pinker examines human nature, its implications and the denial of its existence in recent history.
Striking a balance between nature and nurture, Pinker proposes that while not everything is hardwired from birth, each person is born a with a “rough draft” of their abilities, potential and how they will turn out in a broad sense. Rejecting that this deterministic, Pinker estimates that genes and human nature provide only about half the equation, with personal experience and cultural influence making up the remainder.
In examining the resistance against human nature and the social sciences’ intelligentsia’s long standing love affair with the Blank Slate or tabula rasa theory, Pinker relates the various religious and political dogmata, philosophical and historical hurdles, as well as the scientific misconceptions which have pushed human nature out of favour. Impressively, he makes a case for human nature establishing our shared humanity and posits that it as a better foundation for equality and mutual respect than Blank Slate theories.
The subject is fascinating and with the historical debate and political, philosophical and cultural implications in play, it is highly entertaining and engaging. It is a pretty comprehensive tome, looking into various aspects of the subject, citing various research and scientific writing. Yet, while not a particularly easy read, it is written in a clear and concise manner which allows laypeople, such as myself, to come along for the ride. Along with Sapiens by Yuval Noah Harari, I reckon this is my favourite popular science book ever.
And now 2020 is over and done with. Not a bad year, reading-wise. Or maybe it’s not quite done — four books were carried over: Meyer Lansky: The Thinking Man’s Gangster by Robert Lacey, The Armageddon Rag by George R.R. Martin, Tintin: The Complete Companion by Michael Farr, and Economix by Michael Goodwin and others. All are pretty good so far, in the ★★★★ range. As yet, I have not picked up anything new.
Still, I have a good feeling about 2021.
