Milkman, Anna Burns
Milkman is a fascinating stream-of-consciousness novel that follows one young woman’s efforts to squash lies and rumors with silence and avoid her dangerous, politically active stalker. What makes this novel unique is its lack of details: we never know the protagonist’s name, or the names of the other characters, or where she lives. The novel essentially doesn’t use any proper nouns, ever, but Burns uses very detailed words to give readers the clues we need to determine that we are in Belfast, Northern Ireland during the 1960s and 1970s, also known as The Troubles. The protagonist/narrator spins an intricate web made up of the he said/she said gossip that comprises the community, and how presumptions of action and non-action and what both could mean can change people’s lives. Milkman won the 2018 Booker Prize and was shortlisted in 2019 for the Women’s Prize, and it is easy to see why: the protagonist’s narrative strikes the line between the objective and the personal in a way that describes the overall situation of the time without actually describing anyone in it, but still makes us empathize with the narrator and her struggle to remain above it all.
Landwhale, Jes Baker
Landwhale is Jes Baker’s intimate memoir that talks about her journey of accepting her body as it is, instead of constantly trying to change it, her complete rejection of diet culture, and how horridly society treats people with fat bodies. Which, she certainly notes, is not a one time affair; but rather, an every day struggle to reject a toxic culture that we have all grown up in—that’s why it’s so difficult! She is funny, empathetic, and articulate, and makes it easy for readers to identify with her words and her struggles. I read this book because I am also in the process (reminder we all are/should be!) of rejecting diet culture and the idea that my body is not perfect as it is, in addition to appreciating my body and all that is does for me, as well as trying to love it the best I can, which I think is all that anyone can ask for. Baker also poignantly reminds readers that absolutely no one has the right to an opinion about your body—not your mother, your partner, your friend, society—except for you, and oftentimes, we are our harshest critics, so we should simply try to be kinder to our body. I sure as hell can get behind that. This memoir is a full of good daily reminders not to be too hard on ourselves, to be more loving to ourselves, and to remember that accepting your body actually has little to do with your body itself, and our bodies and the way we look is literally the least interesting thing about us: “My body holds my mystery but no longer defines my entire identity.”