I realized early this year that I do not read enough female authors. Reflecting on what I’ve read over the past two years, I think I may have only read like three books written by women. How dismal.

I suspect it’s a ratio thing — a lot of books on the shelves are penned by male authors, so it’s just more likely that when I do pick something up, it’ll be something written by a man. (And I shouldn’t have to say this, but just in case, I don’t have anything against male writers.)

But that’s hardly a good enough reason, is it? (Nope, it’s not.) I do feel it is important that I make more of an effort to read female authors, just to diversify my own reading habits. I already make it a point to read non-English books (translated into English, obviously) on a regular basis, so why not also make it a point to read more works by women too?

I’m not sure what kind of point I’m trying to make. Most likely no point. This is just my par-for-the-course rambling way of saying that I’m pleased to see a lot more women make it into my list of favorite books this year.

The Bone People by Keri Hulme

Pop the champagne and pass out the noisemakers because this is the best thing I’ve read all year, hands down. It’s a difficult story, and I’m sure elements of it will drive a lot of people to hate it — you know, like the rampant physical abuse of a mute child, and how frustrating the characters can be as they get in their own way. The novel is about Kerewin, a loner who finds a mysterious mute child in her home one day and becomes enmeshed in the lives of this child and his deeply flawed stepfather. It’s refreshing to read about someone who is cynical, but not cartoonishly so, and where they aren’t set up as someone who needs to undergo a complete personality transplant to be “saved.” She’s complicated and messy, like everyone else in the book; though admittedly, that does make it weird that it wraps up in a too-neat kind of way. But it’s such a beautifully written story, and a great glimpse into the Maori language and culture. There’s even a glossary in the back of the Maori terms used, though if you’re lazy like me, you won’t bother to refer to it until after you’re done reading the book to see if your “figure it out via context clues” method worked.

Augustus by John Williams

This is very similar to I, Claudius by Robert Graves, in that both are fictionalized accounts of the lives and reigns of Roman emperors. And maybe that is a very specific genre that I enjoy because I loved this one too. If you know of any other “fictionalized accounts of the lives and reigns of Roman emperors,” please alert me immediately to its existence. The only other thing I’ve read by John Williams is Stoner (I highly recommend it) but Augustus does not at all resemble it. To give you an example, I laughed quite a few times reading this — Williams does thinly veiled contempt quite well –, whereas I laughed approximately Not At All times reading Stoner. I will say, though, that it helps to know your Roman history to really appreciate this book, otherwise it’s a little too easy to get lost in the names of people and places and events.

The Sibyl in Her Grave by Sarah Caudwell

I picked this up on a whim, and it turned out to be one of the funniest things I’ve read this year. Imagine an Agatha Christie novel, but in a more modern setting and with way more tongue-in-cheek humor and witticisms. A spooky psychic moves into a small town with her weird niece, only to be discovered dead (and most likely mUuUuUuUrdered!) a short while later. Shady characters emerge and painful pasts are dragged up as every single person tries their darnedest to be quintessentially British and “carry on.” The story and characters are absurd, but in a hugely entertaining way. Overall, this was a very fast and easy read. I suggest pairing it with an excessively rainy weekend.

The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt

The book that captivated so many people! And I get it now, even if I didn’t for the first few chapters. I’ll just say that things start out slow, and it doesn’t feel like there’s a “story” for a while, and you’ll find yourself demanding, “And???” to the book in your hands. But then suddenly, you’re not talking to yourself anymore because instead you’re busy staying up until midnight devouring page after page. I still am not sure how to describe this book to other people, even after having finished it. It is technically a book about art theft, but it’s not that, not really. Is it a coming-of-age story, then? I don’t know, but I enjoyed the hell out of it.

Leonard: My Fifty-Year Friendship with a Remarkable Man by William Shatner

I am a huge Star Trek fan, and Leonard Nimoy’s passing last year was like a punch in the gut. Obviously, I never actually knew him. We never got coffee, we never exchanged long rambling letters, we never shared inside jokes. But yet Leonard Nimoy, by just becoming one character for three seasons 50 years ago, was a huge part of my life. And reading about the man behind the Vulcan — especially through William Shatner’s eyes — is a real treat. Shatner (or his editor, or both??) is as silly and warm as all his commercials for Priceline suggest, and though the book covers Nimoy’s background and life, it really is about Shatner’s friendship with Nimoy. It’s a love letter from one friend to another, and from Shatner to all of Nimoy’s fans. I suggest pairing it with several episodes of Star Trek TOS and also that monorail episode of The Simpsons, and maybe also a box of tissues for when you inevitably weep.

The Hunt for Vulcan: . . . And How Albert Einstein Destroyed a Planet, Discovered Relativity, and Deciphered the Universe by Thomas Levenson

I picked this up because of the cover art and the title. Sometimes that strategy works, and sometimes it doesn’t. (It worked this time, obviously.) A concise but entertaining account of the phantom planet Vulcan, which for a long time was thought to be the “hidden” planet between the sun and Mercury. Did you guys even know about this? I didn’t. Astronomers tracking the paths of planetary orbits were puzzled by the erratic path that Mercury seemed to take, so in an effort to explain it, they hypothesized that another planet (Vulcan) must exist and set out to find it. Except Vulcan didn’t exist, and likely never did exist. Oops! This little book goes into the way science and discovery is really an act of trying to solve puzzles when the pieces may not even exist yet, and Levenson’s cheeky little asides make this all the more fun to read.

The Stranger Beside Me by Ann Rule

Right before I left for Australia, I asked a friend for a book recommendation, and that it be long and engaging enough to keep me entertained during a 14-hour flight. This was the one she suggested. A true crime novel by someone who worked with Ted Bundy at a crisis hotline before anyone realized that he was Ted Bundy: serial killer, this book was deeply unsettling. Ted seemed so… normal. Charming and likable, even. That is, until you remember that he is also responsible for the heinous murders of so many young women. I mean, he once admitted to driving into another state just so he could find someone to murder before going home. WHAT THE HELL. It’s even weirder to read about him with this level of intimacy because Rule was friends with him before and during his trials — definitely a “reality is stranger than fiction” type of situation. I recommend pairing this with a very securely bolted door and several sleepless nights.

All the Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr

I wasn’t sure if this should be on my list, and debated with absolutely no one for approximately three minutes before deciding, what the hell, let’s put it on here. It’s an admittedly schmaltzy story that I’m sure will soon be turned into a movie with a sweeping orchestral score, with the leads played by beautiful, young, up-and-coming actors/actresses that we’ll inevitably never hear from again. The book follows two characters: a brilliant German orphan reluctantly fighting for the Nazis and a blind French girl fleeing from war. And somewhere in there, a legendary giant blue gem that is supposedly cursed. I’ve heard other people say it’s excessively sentimental, and it is. But it’s also such a good read that I didn’t care.

Have you read any of these books? What did you think?