Kevin of Interpolations asked a great question over at Time’s Flow Stemmed, which led to a follow-up post on which authors might make a future version of the most-read list but who don’t yet have five books under their belt.
I’ve been thinking some about this and it’s a tough question. A few of the writers where I only made it to four books do have a fifth book I haven’t read yet (e.g., David Mitchell, Jonathan Franzen). Those will definitely make it onto the list in the near-distant future, but don’t strictly fall into this category. Who does? It’s actually a bit hard for me to think of contemporary authors I read who are so contemporary that they haven’t yet made it to the five-novel mark. Narrowing that down to people I would definitely read more of is even harder; typically I fall in semi-love with a contemporary novelist and then get over it really, really fast.
So who might make it?
- I seem to have a bit of a thing, at least lately, for Tao Lin. Counting only novels and story collections I don’t think he’s got five books out yet, but it’s also the sort of thing I could easily see myself giving up reading before making the cut.
- Yoko Ogawa certainly has more than five novels written, but only three of her books have been released thus far in English and I could definitely see myself continuing to read them as they are released.
- Joseph O’Neill has four books out, of which I’ve only read one, but I did love Netherland. I can hardly promise he’ll make the list considering my half-assedness thus far, but it seems like a fair possibility.
- Interestingly, the surest bet so far seems like Russ Roberts, who writes what I guess you could call genre fiction, but of a whole different stripe from what that might otherwise call to mind. But I won’t lie; I’m totally a sucker for an econ novel.
- Marilynne Robinson seems like another fair possibility, though I have only read Gilead, which I sort of hated. Housekeeping is definitely on the list of things to do, but her latest book has put me off in a serious way (not that I’ve read it).
- Why not add Matthew Sharpe to the list? I liked Jamestown, as I recall. He’s written a bunch of other stuff, it looks like, but not five novels. Again, I haven’t read it all, or even more than one. More on that below.
- I want to also add James Wood to the list, but then I want to say, “Who am I kidding?” But actually that one is probably sort of realistic.
Going through this process has seemed to reveal a lot more meaning to me than the previous one. Namely, I really do not read that much contemporary literature, and what I do read is largely focused on writers who are established enough to have more than five books already. Going through the lists of my reading for the past several years, I note many writers who would have made the cut had I made this list at the same—one example is Jonathan Safran Foer—but whose books I never plan on reading again. I also tend to sort of take small stabs at people (e.g., Matthew Sharpe) and then kind of forget about them.
I do think that, irrationally, I place a lesser value in general on contemporary novels. But that’s on average. And it’s in fact not irrational considering the sheer volume of what is published. And of course anyone who reads this blog would know how comparatively little contemporary literature I read. I read lots of other book blogs highly focused on new releases (and of course the larger book reviewing world is extremely focused on new releases) and sometimes feel a bit freaked out that I am so not a part of that at all, almost. The “new releases” I do read tend to be reprints from NYRB and the like. It does make me feel like I am neglecting, I don’t know, “the outside world,” but in terms of my reading life that is a relatively recent development. I still try to make space for things I truly anticipate will be of value, but there are obvious difficulties in making that determination.
Still, yet again, the whole thing is a long-term project.
I agree that compiling this list was a struggle. My commitment to the writers on my list may wane well before five books, though I am as certain as can be of James Wood, Tom McCarthy and Zadie Smith.
Apart from knowing the names (Wood aside), Marilynne Robinson is the only writer on your list I have read. My reaction to Gilead was powerful and immediate: despite finishing the book I also sort of hated it, to the extent I don’t really want to read any of her other books.
Contemporary novels, especially by less-established writers, are distant blips on my radar. I only become aware of them if a blogger I respect raves about them or if they get critical attention from sources I respect.
My first-level participation in this impromptu meme is still sitting in my draft folder, but this is an interesting twist on the idea – will have to incorporate it when I write my post. More than contemporary authors who haven’t yet written five books, I noticed while putting together my list that there are several authors I discovered relatively recently, who definitely HAVE five books, but whose back-log I am only partially through. Peter Carey leaps to mind: currently at 4, will definitely get to 5 and beyond.
I think it’s funny that you think you might end up reading five Robinson books, even though you hated one and dislike the idea of another. It’s like my relationship with Henry James: “okay…so I hated the seventh book of his I read as much as the last six…but maybe the eighth will be the one I love!”
This is much more difficult. Like Anthony, I would definitely say Zadie Smith but am not sure I would have recalled that instantly if Anthony did not put it forward first. Many others with a small number of published books leap to find but then I have to discard them because I hated one of their novels, usually the second. But then I think of Nicole Krauss whose work touches me. And then I feel a stab of anxiety as I think of that new novel coming out soon. What if it disappoints? I over-think too many things and am afraid that this exercise is just an exercise that feeds into that. :)
Anthony—Exactly, I have the exact same relationship with contemporary lit.
Emily—I know! Maybe “sort of hating” something is better than not feeling anything, though. I can’t wait to see your post.
Frances—You are not wrong about feeding into overthinking!
I wonder about contemporary novelists who have 5 or more books and are still publishing – these are the authors I will end up reading a lot of. Peter Carey is a good example – I’m currently reading my 3rd novel by him, don’t consider him exactly a favorite, but guarantee I will end up picking up some more of his books throughout the years whether or not I read everything he has or will have written.
Wow, I am astonished at this hate for Gilead. Is it because of the religious theme? I’ve seen elsewhere readers mistaking it for a religious screed, but it’s clearly not that, at all. So what is it? I mean, I’m an atheist, if it matters, but I think Gilead is one of the great novels of our time, one of the very few novels of the last 30 years that will last. Utterly beautiful, and “important” to boot. And yet good readers I respect not just can’t get into it but actively hate it (sort of, or fully). It’s a mystery.
(Home, incidentally, is also good, but not quite as, in my view.)
Alison—Yeah, totally.
Richard—For me, at least, that’s not the problem. I was a bit hesitant to read it at first because I worried the religious element would bother me, but I don’t remember it being very religious at all. I read it years ago now and don’t own it myself so can only give you general impressions. I remember it as somewhat beautiful but sterile.
It’s a bit strange because it seems like I should like it: I like stuff in small towns, I like stuff about guys, I like stuff that’s “boring.” But I found Gilead actually boring, and in a novel where I think sympathy with the narrator is especially important I could not care about the narrator at all. There was something creepy about him being so old with such a young kid, and I think for me it was probably too much about fatherhood. Novels about parent-child relationships when the child is still a child rarely do a lot for me.
My issue with her new book, on the other hand, is totally religion-based.
I concur with most of your summary of Gilead, Nicole. What I recall of the book, which I gave away, is not its religiosity but the combination of mawkishness and tedium.
Interesting. For me the book was a remarkable examination of one man’s struggle with the implications of his faith and what it means to be a good person. Not a trace of either mawkishness or tedium. Maybe it’s just when and how we approach a book in our lives.
Home, for what it’s worth, is neither more nor less religious than is Gilead.
Despite the guilty feeling that I should give her a chance there is something about Robinson that has absolutely made me bristle.
I’m reminded of your talk of “manfiction.” I actually do read quite a bit of novels by women, but often hesitate before popular women novelists. I like the eccentrics like Elaine Dundy, the biting criticisms of a Wharton or Austen, the everyday ethnicity in Jhumpa Lahiri and Zadie Smith… but every time I get this feeling that the novel is too much about women by women for women, or even somewhere connected to that mix, I’m turned off, and I find that filter kicks in very quickly. This default position shoves its way in every time I hear Robinson’s name (and reading the above discussion about Gilead makes it sound like I’ve made a totally wrong assessment of what she is writing) yet I still can’t get passed that initial revulsion.
this feeling that the novel is too much about women by women for women, or even somewhere connected to that mix, I’m turned off
Yeah, you know I have the same issues. I think so much of it is the marketing too. “Women” are the target for “literary fiction” and I generally don’t respond to marketing directed at quite such a large bloc.