My favorite books of 2019 so far

I’ve been making pretty abysmal progress on my reading goals this year: I’ve only read 19 books so far in 2019. (According to Goodreads, that’s 32 books behind schedule if I want to hit my goal of 100 books–but who’s counting?)

Luckily, the books I have read have been almost universally wonderful. I thought I’d highlight my very favorites so far. I’m counting any book I read and reviewed for the blog in 2019, no matter when it actually came out. I’ve ordered them chronologically based on when I read them, not based on how much I loved them. (I’m planning to do a year-end list this year, so I’m pushing that herculean task of ranking off till December.)

Here are my favorite books of 2019 so far! Clicking on the title links will open my original review of the book in a new tab.

sadie cover
cover description: A mostly black-and-white sketch of a girl, except for her bright red hoodie. The girl’s face is obscured.

Sadie by Courtney Summers

Goodreads | Amazon | Barnes & Noble | IndieBound

If you’re tired of crime stories (both true and fictional) that are more interested in lurid details and beautiful victims than they are in real justice or the unvarnished truth, then the YA novel Sadie is for you. Courtney Summers blends “transcripts” of a Serial-style fictional investigative podcast with a first person narrative from the perspective of Sadie, a teen girl out for revenge against the man who murdered her younger sister.

Honestly, I tear up just thinking about this book. I sometimes feel so helpless in a world that treats women as disposable objects. Sadie tells me I’m not wrong to feel that way, but it also pushed me to remember my own strength, grit, and skills as a survivor.

This novel will empower you as much as it breaks your heart, no matter your age. It has one of the best endings I have ever read. I promise you: if you read Sadie, you’ll never forget her.

whitedancingelephantscover
cover description: An out-of-focus close-up of a South Asian woman’s face.

White Dancing Elephants by Chaya Bhuvaneswar

Goodreads | Amazon | Barnes & Noble | IndieBound

White Dancing Elephants is Chaya Bhuvaneswar’s first book, but it reads like the confident output of short fiction writers as respected and established as Jhumpa Lahiri, Margaret Atwood, and Alice Munro. These stories are sometimes devastating and difficult, sometimes effervescent and hopeful. They are always good.

One story in the collection that hasn’t left my mind since I read it is “Neela: Bhopal, 1984,” about a little girl on the day of the Bhopal industrial disaster that killed and injured thousands. The story is emblematic of how Bhuvaneswar isn’t just content to tell stories that entertain us or provoke thought. This is agitating fiction. You won’t feel like sitting still after reading it.

“Diverse” has become a borderline-meaningless buzzword in publishing (most often used as a euphemism for “not white”), but White Dancing Elephants is truly diverse: diverse in its characters, settings, styles, goals, and forms. It is an explosion of talent and skill. What a gift.

The Collected Schizophrenias Cover
cover description: Styled to look like a composition notebook with a colorful marbled pattern.

The Collected Schizophrenias by Esmé Weijun Wang

Goodreads | Amazon | Barnes & Noble | IndieBound

Of all the books I’ve read this year, this is the one that cut deepest on a personal level. I was diagnosed with bipolar I with psychotic tendencies seven years ago. That’s a different diagnosis than Esmé Weijun Wang’s schizoaffective disorder (bipolar type), but I hung on every word of this essay collection anyway.

Wang’s essay-length examinations of what it means to lose your mind when, as a writer, you make your entire living off your mind, are as surprisingly hopeful as they are grief-stricken. Wang’s style is understated with secret sharp edges, almost scientific. These are field notes. It is a privilege that Wang lets us read them.

Books do save your life; it’s been a long time since my mental illness has sent me fully spinning off my axis, but if it ever does again, The Collected Schizophrenias will be the first life raft I turn to.

The Proposal Cover
cover description: Bright blue, with illustrations of a Black woman wearing sunglasses and a Latino man in a blue ballcap. There are also cute illustrations of a baseball, taco, palm trees, a cupcake, and the sun.

The Proposal by Jasmine Guillory

Goodreads | Amazon | Barnes & Noble | IndieBound

Right when you need a good book most, The Proposal will be there for you, like the cupcake or tasty taco you treat yourself to on a bad day. This is the Room of Requirement of books. It’s a romance between two people who think they don’t need romance; if you also think you don’t need romance, it will be happy to show you why you’re wrong.

Nik just survived a catastrophically bad Jumbotron proposal from her crappy actor boyfriend, Fisher. Luckily, Carlos (whom you may remember as the best friend from Jasmine Guillory’s first novel, The Wedding Date) is there to safely shepherd her out of the stadium.

I read this book when I was feeling sad and down, and what surprised me most about it was how, even when it was so joyful it defied gravity, it was still grounded in real-world problems. If you’re happy and looking for a happy read, it’ll be there. If you’re sad and looking to be cheered up, it’ll be there. Guillory works magic.

Monday's Not Coming Cover
cover description: A young Black girl is sitting down. She looks upset. Everything is tinted red.

Monday’s Not Coming by Tiffany D. Jackson

Goodreads | Amazon | Barnes & Noble | IndieBound

I found this book so intense and triggering that, in the title of the post I wrote about it, I put “I’m not reviewing Monday’s Not Coming.” The truth is that the post turned out to be a review anyway, but this YA novel about a girl whose best friend Monday disappears deals with some seriously painful subject matter.

The thing is, that’s what makes it great. As I wrote in my not-a-review, Tiffany D. Jackson knows that many teens are dealing with situations that would make many adults’ toes curl every day. Monday’s Not Coming will make those teens feel seen. (It made me feel seen, even though I’m 24.)

It’s technically a young adult novel, but it’s one that I think many adults would find riveting, too. Jackson’s writing style is pitch-perfect, and she finds the beauty even in this very brutal story. Like Sadie, Monday is impossible to forget.

Alif the Unseen Cover
cover description: A yellow and green abstract Arabesque pattern that also looks like the circuits of a computer.

Alif the Unseen by G. Willow Wilson

Goodreads | Amazon | Barnes & Noble | IndieBound

If you’re looking for a sci-fi/fantasy novel that breaks out of those genre’s typical  boxes, then it would be hard to do better than Alif the Unseen. This novel (technically YA, though it’s even more crossover-y than Sadie and Monday’s Not Coming) follows Alif, a pseudonymous hacker who finds himself on the wrong side of his Middle Eastern security state’s law enforcement.

It has djinn, oppressive governments, dystopian revolution, a love story, and lots of interesting things to say about faith, doubt, and Islam. It’s fun, funny, and profound in all the right places.

My wife is a computer programmer and cyber security expert, and I had a ton of fun talking over the tech in this novel with her. Alif the Unseen should be right up there with M.T. Anderson’s Feed and Neal Stephenson’s Snow Crash in the canon of game-changing cyber sci-fi.


Have you read and loved any of these? Do you have your own favorites of 2019 to add? I’d love to hear about them in the comments!

Book Review: SADIE by Courtney Summers

Sadie is a high-concept novel with a gritty punch. 19-year-old Sadie’s younger sister is murdered in a small town, and then Sadie herself disappears. A true crime podcast investigates the crime. (Or is it crimes?) Sadie feels both meta and granular, delightful and discomfiting, a story that uplifts forgotten teen girls without ever sinking into naïveté or blasé go, girl! empowerment. Courtney Summers’s prose is blistering and urgent, her tenterhooks-plotting a tour-de-force. This book is unforgettable.

Oh, and I don’t usually offer content warnings, since everyone’s triggers are different, but Sadie has some big ones, so:

Content warning: Sadie has graphic scenes of child abuse, rape, molestation, and pedophilia. If those are triggers for you, I’d recommend leaving this book on the shelf.

You can read my full review below.


Sadie Cover.jpg

Sadie by Courtney Summers

Goodreads | Amazon | Barnes & Noble | IndieBound

  • publisher: Wednesday Books
  • publication date: September 4, 2018
  • length: 320 pages
  • cover price: $17.99

Restless teenage girls, reckless teenage girls. Teenage girls and their inevitable drama. Sadie had survived a terrible loss, and with very little effort on my part, I dismissed it. Her. I wanted a story that felt fresh, new and exciting and what about a missing teenage girl was that?

We’ve heard this story before.

–from Sadie by Courtney Summers

The first thing that struck me about Sadie was its intense sense of reality: how perfectly I could hear each line of dialogue, picture each setting, hunger for a luscious slice of apple pie, tremble with icy fear at memories that weren’t even mine. I don’t always read for reality–in fact, I often avoid it–but when a fiction author is so gifted at capturing the real world on the page, as Courtney Summers is here, magic happens. Reality becomes as vivid as CGI, as immersive as a first-person video game. Background becomes foreground. You learn the world all over again, like you fell through the looking glass last night as you slept.

Sadie is no fantasy, but reading it is fantastic.

Sadie’s lived her whole life in Cold Creek, a small town rich in natural beauty and poor in just about everything else. A high school dropout who lived for her younger sister, Mattie, Sadie’s world flies to pieces when Mattie is brutally murdered, the killer never caught. And then Sadie disappears, too.

Frustrated with local police’s tepid reaction, Sadie and Mattie’s grandmother calls in a true crime podcaster to investigate, and that’s when the novel begins: Sadie is told in alternating perspectives between the fictional podcast’s transcripts and Sadie’s own first-person narration. We’re always one step ahead of the podcast, trailing Sadie as she flees Cold Creek and seeks vigilante justice against a mysterious abuser. (Perhaps killer.)

But it soon becomes clear that Sadie isn’t telling us everything, even when she’s the one doing the telling. The tension between podcast and girl is a perfect deployment of unreliable narrators: ones that work in service of the story as well as in service of Sadie-the-novel’s brutal meta-commentary on the disposability and forgettability of girls and women.

This novel just…seethes. That’s the word that was on my tongue the whole time I read. I found that weirdly soothing, though. It was nice to be met with the same kind of feminist fury I’ve been feeling my whole life. Sadie‘s violence is relentless, but in it, I found tenderness, too. There’s tenderness in telling the truth.

Again, Sadie is fiction. But it’s remarkable how much it feels like it’s not.

So many stories of sexual and sex-based violence, especially pedophilia-related ones, are either innocence-lost stories or stories of facile revenge. They’re binary stories of either dis- or re-empowerment that place the onus of said empowerment on each girl and woman in isolation.

Meanwhile, Sadie, despite the fact that it’s named for one girl, never loses sight that Sadie is one of many girls. She’s never in isolation. You know from the first page that even if Sadie’s story ends happily (a big question mark!), hers is only one story. It would be her happy ending, not a happy ending. There are so many more. And that makes the novel burn much hotter and brighter.

It’s hard to overstate or overhype the skill Summers displays here. When half your novel is a podcast transcript, having an ear for pitch-perfect dialogue is mission critical; she nails it. (Sadie has a stutter, another detail that could have sent the dialogue awry, but it’s written flawlessly.) It’s almost hard to single out particular things Summers gets right because everything is so damn right, from characterization to plotting to her creative decisions around Sadie‘s risky, courageous ending.

I loved this book. It was the first I read in 2019, so I’m hoping that means something: for the quality of the books I’ll read this year, and also for my hopes for a world where Sadie might feel less urgent, less sharp, less real. It got 2019 off on a feminist, furious foot.

Someday I hope the message of this book will feel obsolete, but I’m certain its remarkable craft and storytelling never will be. ★★★★★

Books you might also enjoy:


I purchased my own copy of Sadie and was in no way compensated for this review.