The Quiet Novels of the 2013 NBA Longlist

In which we take a look at the five books on the 2013 longlist and how they compare to some of the more bombastic books of the shortlist of that year

Hi, Y’all! Glad You’re Here—

It’s been a busy few weeks for me! I saw Beyonce, I interviewed Lauren Groff, I got diagnosed with general anxiety and major depression, and I found a really cute new crop top from a gay clothing store in Atlanta. And somehow, between all of that, I managed to finish the NBA books from the 60’s (newsletter to come), read multiple upcoming releases, and read the five books on the 2013 National Book Award shortlist. If that’s not productive, I don’t know what is. I’m really excited about the five books we’re looking at today, because it was actually my first time reading all of these authors and I ended up liking or loving all of the books!

The first book we’re looking at is Someone by Alice McDermott. McDermott was a previous finalist for her novel That Night and she later went on to win for Charming Billy. I wasn’t really sure what to expect from her work, except for the fact that she writes a lot about the catholic faith. As someone who has weirdly always wanted to be catholic, I was looking forward to this aspect of her work. While I think Someone touches on themes relating to faith, what I took most from it was McDermott’s surprising talent for subverting our ideas around narrative structure without ever calling attention to it. McDermott manages to create a page-turning read out of a book that has very little plot, focusing on a person who is truly ordinary in most every sense—somehow, Someone feels urgent, necessary.

The premise of the book is that it’s about an ordinary woman, Marie, living an ordinary life. That’s pretty accurate, as nothing that wild happens in this book. She lives a pretty standard life, and the bad things that do happen don’t really cause much noise or aren’t written with too much flair. This book isn’t focused on shocking the reader or finding ways to emotionally manipulate us. What McDermott is interested in, it seems, is finding the beautiful in the ordinary, the complicated, the truth, the weird, and she does that by offering us a look at what should be the most boring thing in the world but is surprisingly captivating. Her sentences reflect this same idea, as they don’t really call attention to themselves, except they do in their striking simplicity. She has such a fine ear for language, such a perceptive eye. It’s one of those works that you can’t help but marvel at, because it’s done the thing where it’s both deeply investing and also technically wonderful.

If I were to compare her work to anyone, it might be Elizabeth Strout and Alice Munro. McDermott, like Strout and Munro, follow quiet people living quiet lives and use their internal struggles to create a compelling narrative. But there’s a distinct quality to McDermott’s work that separates it from the rest, and it’s made me really curious to see what her other work is like. I can see why her work has been so highly praised over the years, and I’m glad this book got recognized. She’s a talent.

The next book we’re looking at is Fools by Joan Silver—it’s a short story cycle and a good one, unlike many of the cycles I usually read. These stories operate beautifully on their own, but are deeply rewarding when read together. They follow various characters as they question when it’s right to be a fool for something (or someone) and each of these characters approaches this idea in a unique and surprising way.

First, I just have to say, why was I sleeping on Silber?! She’s so good, y’all! She just writes such great sentences and the dynamics of her characters are so fascinating to me. I also don’t know how often I see someone with such a clear understanding of how the actions her characters take impact them later on. She writes these characters doing the smallest things that have these repercussions later, but it never happens like you think it will, and when it does happen, it’s almost like she doesn’t want to totally draw your attention to it, which leaves you feeling sideswiped in a way that’s true to the experience of these people. I’m kind of obsessed. Also, I’m not sure if it’s just because I happened to be reading them at the same time, but there were parts of this book that reminded me of Sally Rooney’s Conversations With Friends. Just wanted to make that mention before I forgot. Anyway—Much like McDermott, the things here that I loved were how quiet and real these characters were, and how both write so beautifully without ever being flashy. This was a strong collection and I am in desperate need to read more of her work soon.

The next book I read was A Constellation of Vital Phenomena by Anthony Marra. The novel, which takes place in Chechnya, might be loosely considered one of the “war novels” akin to those we talked about while reading all of the books from the fifties and sixties. This is a tough book, emotionally taxing at times and anxiety inducing. But there’s something Marra does here, in how he quickly develops a connection between the characters and the reader that helps us keep moving through all of the devastation as the narrative goes on.

Much like the previous two books we’ve discussed, A Constellation… is doing really interesting things structurally, specifically with how it moves back and forth in time. While I think that Marra handholds the reader too much in some moments, I always enjoy when a book feels intentionally disorienting to mirror what’s happening in the narrative. For the most part, I think he pulls it off.

While this wasn’t my favorite book on the longlist, I still really appreciated my reading experience with this one, and I hope to read his latest book really soon.

After I finished Marra’s book, I eventually moved on to The End of The Point by Elizabeth Graver. This is one of those sweeping family sagas, spanning decades and generations—it’s the type of book I love, and am typically biased towards. Throughout my reading of this book, I kept getting overtaken by a wave of nostalgia—for what, I have no idea, because my experiences were so unlike those of this family, but I think it says a lot about a work when it makes you carry the feelings of these characters when you haven’t even been there alongside them. Maybe it was just all of the seaside talk. After all, I do live in Florida.

Another aspect of this novel that really sunk its teeth into my heart is the way it explores the relationships between children and their mothers, and how mothers are such complicated people who have their own lives and struggles outside of motherhood. There was something about how Graver managed to write a mother character who is really infuriating at times but also really loving, and how in moments of her absence, the children searched for other mother figures, even inanimate, even just destinations. It’s hard to explain unless you’ve read it, because I don’t want to give anything away, but trust me. Anyway, this one ranks above the Marra but below the other two—maybe I’ve just read so many of these types of books that I can be a tad pickier. But I do plan on reading more of her work because I found it deeply enjoyable.

The last book we’re looking at is Pacific by Tom Drury. I didn’t realize that this was actually the conclusion to a trilogy until I was nearly done—while I think it can stand on its own in many ways, it definitely felt like there was something I wasn’t aware of throughout my reading. Because of my own blunder, I of course have to take this into consideration when looking at this book among the others. I enjoyed this one a great deal. I don’t usually love spare prose, it can be hit or miss for me, but I felt that Drury did a beautiful job imbuing his sentences with deep feeling, and I was able to pick up what he was putting down, if you know what i’m saying. There’s a lot of weird stuff happening in this book, mentions of police and taxidermy and plumbing businesses and random crimes, all mentioned almost in passing, as if there’s something even more attention grabbing waiting to come. It’s a smart, entertaining read, and makes me wonder why we don’t talk more about Tom Drury.

Overall, I found this to be a really strong longlist—the list as a whole, all ten books, were pretty amazing and entertaining. What’s interesting about this year in particular is that most of these books feature very restrained prose, not much bombast or backflipping or fireworks, no little tricks to dazzle the reader. They rely solely on the truth at the center, on the power of psychological insight and feeling toward these characters. Most of these books also play with time a lot, shifting back and forth in time, or doing some weird thing that is almost indescribable, layering the different timelines on top of each other in ways one might not have even thought of before. The only book on this list that could really be described as “voicey” is that year’s winner, The Good Lord Bird by James McBride. It’s also the one that has the most traditional mode of storytelling, in some ways. Maybe these were the elements that were refreshing about it at the time. I think I mentioned this when I reviewed the short list, but when I was reading The Good Lord Bird, I thought it reminded me of a lot of books I’ve read, but most of which were only released after it. And I didn’t see a ton of books like it on the lists before, so I wonder how much a book like that influenced the publishing industry. I don’t know, just a thought, a curiosity I would like to explore at some point. If you know anything relating to that, let me know!

Anyway, those are most of my thoughts relating to these books right now. Thanks to everyone for your patience as I’ve been a little slower getting through these in the last few weeks. Things have been a bit overwhelming with work and life stuff, but I’m finding my balance and hopefully will be back in the full swing of things soon. Stay tuned for my 60’s wrap up coming soon!

Until then,

XOXO