Well, I did it—I read fifty or more books for the tenth consecutive year. It was a close call this year though, as I ended with only fifty-one. So, here it is, the annual review of my year in books (grouped by genre, not by the order in which they were read).
The first book in read in 2016 was Our Kind of Traitor by John le Carré. Despite my fondness for thrillers and spy novels, this was the first le Carré novel I have ever read. It was enjoyable and captivating and I suspect I will read additional le Carré works in the future.
Other fiction I read in 2016 included the following: Behind Closed Doors by Elizabeth Haynes, an interesting book that keeps you wondering at times about who is telling the truth while also providing an accurate and uncomfortable look at life for those who are victims of sex trafficking; An Object of Beauty by Steve Martin, which was a fascinating look into the world of fine art as well as pleasing tale (though it does contain some unnecessary an explicit sex scenes); The Last Bookaneer by Matthew Pearl, a story about a bookaneer—individuals who stole manuscripts of books by famous others to have them published abroad without the permission of the author, thus making vast sums for publishers and the bookaneers who sold them—trying to get Robert Louis Stevenson’s final novel; Conversion by Katherine Howe, a creative novel that provides astute insight into the circumstances that created the Salem Witch Trials by interweaving stories of that event with a modern re-telling of similar events taking place at a girls’ school located on land where the original events occurred; Kristin Hannah’s The Nightingale, which provides a keen look into World War II from the perspective of women in occupied France, including the difficulties they faced, the choices they had to make and the incredible ways in which they worked to defeat the Nazis; Mark Pryor’s Hollow Man was a well-written story that also causes the reader to give serious thought to things he might do for personal gain, that he would never ordinarily imagine doing, when given the right set of circumstances, while also providing an insightful look at the consequences of choices; The Black Country by Alex Grecian uniquely combines Civil War America with coal country England and a Scotland Yard murder investigation in late 19th-century Britain and it, too, provides insightful consideration of the consequences of choices; Hank Phillippi Ryan’s Truth Be Told is part of a series of novels written by Agatha Anthony, Mary Higgins Clark and Ryan, and it includes a unique twist on home foreclosures and fixing bank books while also interweaving a cold case; The Whistler is probably John Grisham’s best effort in recent memory, far better than last year’s Rogue Lawyer and better than Gray Mountain, though he decided, for the second novel in a row, to make one of the main characters a lesbian—despite that adding nothing to the story; I do still enjoy Grisham’s teen series, and 2016 included Theodore Boone: The Scandal; and Natchez Burning by Greg Iles was a gripping and angering look at atrocities committed by white supremacists in the Deep South in the 1950s and ‘60s, combined with a taken-from-the-headlines storyline about bringing the perpetrators to justice some fifty years later—but the book starts to assume credulity from its readers near the end and when Iles proved either unable or unwilling to wrap up the story in nearly 800 pages I had little interest in reading the other two books in what I learned is actually a trilogy.
Jeffrey Archer released both the sixth and seventh (and final) installments of The Clifton Chronicles in 2016, Cometh the Hour and This Was a Man, and I read them both. I continue to enjoy Archer’s writing and any of these books could be read enjoyable as stand-alone novels, though it was a pleasure to read all seven. As always, I read a number of James Patterson books in 2016 and I continue to find them to be delightful mental vacations where the good guys always win in the end. Last year’s selections included Private Vegas, Private Paris, Private India and The Games, all part of the Private series (and all written with co-authors), NYPD Red 4 continued that series, and Alert and Bullseye continued the Detective Michael Bennett series (and those were also all written with co-authors).
One work of fiction I read in 2016 was a book I probably never would have picked up on my own but found to be a fascinating read after it was loaned to me by a friend who thought I should read it: The Time It Never Rained by Elmer Kelton. The story was based on true events during the extreme drought in 1950s Texas and gave me not only a greater appreciation for what those ranchers went through but for ranchers and ranching in general.
I found myself in the rather unusual position of enjoying all of the “classics” that I read in 2016, something which has been a rarity, and they spanned a range of “classic” categories. Truman Capote’s In Cold Blood is particularly haunting precisely because it is a true story. The Last of the Mohicans by James Fenimore Cooper deserves to be a classic in my opinion and while it may not be entirely accurate, it does offer a glimpse into the changes that European settlement brought to Native American life in America. As I read Dashiell Hammett’s The Maltese Falcon I felt like I was watching an old black and white cops-and-robbers movie with classic film noir vibes. It is really the first book of that genre I have ever read and I suspect there will be more in my future. Tess of the d’Urbervilles, by Thomas Hardy, was somewhat different than I expected and it offers an abundance of opportunity for thought and discussion about marriage, the long-lasting implications of hasty decisions made in the pursuit of lust, the hypocrisy so many of us are guilty of when it comes to expecting to be forgiven for grave wrongs but are so reluctant to forgive similar failures in others and the despair that can result when it seems there is no hope left. And finally, C.S. Lewis’s The Screwtape Letters is indeed an easy-to-read but deeply insightful look at the failures of fallen humans and the methods employed to tempt us.
As always, there were a number of biographies and autobiographies that made my list in 2016. The Heroic Boldness of Martin Luther and The Daring Mission of William Tyndale are both by Steven Lawson and a part of the Long Line of Godly Men series. The serve as good introductory overviews of these men but the writing lacks polish and precision at times. Jonathan Horn’s The Man Who Would Not Be Washington was a very readable, thorough and honest look at the life of Robert E. Lee. Nina Burleigh’s The Stranger and the Statesman is mostly a biography of James Smithson, though it necessarily interweaves some biography of John Quincy Adams and tells the story of the Smithsonian Institute’s founding. Jon Meacham’s Destiny and Power is a superb biography of George H.W. Bush and George Vecsey’s Stan Musial is a terrific telling of the life of that baseball great (whom I was also privileged to meet more than twenty years ago). Margery Heffrom’s Louisa Catherine provided a fascinating look into the life and character of Mrs. John Quincy Adams, a first lady whom I knew very little about. Valiant Ambition by Nathaniel Philbrick irritated me for the first half of the book, as it seemed that he was either assuming facts not in evidence or ignoring the facts that were in evidence when making assertions about Benedict Arnold. However, he then shifts course and writes one of the more probing observations of human character I have ever come across in a single paragraph. And Richard Zacks’ The Pirate Hunter was a fascinating tale of Captain Kidd, the famed “pirate.” If Zacks’ account is correct, Kidd may be one of the most unfortunate men in history.
In her autobiography In Order to Live, Yeonmi Park provides both valuable insight into what it is like to grow up in North Korea and a gripping account of what she and her family went through to escape the Hermit Kingdom. And as one of the original Little Rock Nine, Carlotta Walls LaNier offers an understanding of what it was like, and the commitment it took, to integrate the all-white schools of Alabama in A Mighty Long Way. David Ring, John Driver and David Wideman combined to write a moving account of David Ring’s life told from the perspective of David Wideman, who became (and remains) a close friend, in The Boy Born Dead. If you have heard of Ring and think you know his story, I would suggest that you do indeed only think you know his story until you have read this book. Elizabeth Vargas showed tremendous personal strength and courage in writing Between Breaths, an autobiography that focuses primarily on her fierce struggle with anxiety and alcoholism—all while appearing in front of millions of people every day on Good Morning, America, 20/20 and ABC World News Tonight. If you think alcoholism is purely the result of weakness and lack of effort this book will surely disabuse you of such a notion.
In the areas of spiritual growth, theology and Bible study I read a lot on the Sermon on the Mount in 2016, including all of John MacArthur’s The Beatitudes: The Only Way to Happiness and James Montgomery Boice’s The Sermon on the Mount. (I also read much of Thomas Watson’s The Beatitudes and volume one of D. Martyn Lloyd-Jones’s Studies in the Sermon on the Mount, but since I did not read all of the first and my copy of the latter includes both volumes in a single book, I did not count either). Eric Ludy’s God’s Gift to Women is written for a target audience of teenage males, but it provides worthwhile instruction on how God intended men and women to relate to one another and men to treat women in particular. John Piper and Wayne Grudem edited Recovering Biblical Manhood and Womanhood, which is particularly relevant amidst the feminism and redefining of gender roles and identities that is so prevalent in our world today. Along those same lines, Elyse Fitzpatrick’s Helper By Design is a book about God’s design for married women that would likely set any NOW member into fits of histrionics.
A couple of books that did not really fit in any other categories: Letters to Lisa by John Van Dyk provides helpful ideas for Christian teachers in an easy-to-read style, since it is written as correspondence between Van Dyk, a professor at Dordt College, and his daughter during the beginning of her teaching career; Patrick Lencioni’s The Ideal Team Player continues Lencioni’s series of helpful parable-style books on business and management but for some reason includes profanity in the tale that adds nothing to the book and will likely offend some of his readers; and Silence and Beauty by Makoto Fujimura is a book I do not know how to categorize, as it is equal parts Japanese history and accounts of Christian persecution, literary and art criticism and spiritual meditation. I have not read Shusaku Endo’s novel Silence, which is the basis of this book, and I suspect Fujimura’s work will be more meaningful to those who have read it.
So, that was my year in books. I think I may have left a few books out of this summary, but then I always do. Perhaps something here will catch your attention or pique your interest and you will explore new books in the upcoming year as a result. Happy reading!
2 thoughts on “My Year in Books — 2016”
Wow, thank you! What a terrific list, and I am thrilled to be included. Hope you continue to enjoy the books–as you see, they can be read in any order. Happiest of new years!
Thanks for giving this yearly overview. It is always fun to hear what others have been working through the past year, and I always enjoy looking to this recap for some recommendations.
If you really liked the rural fiction piece by Kelton, you might appreciate the Port Williams novels by Wendell Berry. They have a few of his books (fiction and non-fiction) up north in Miller, or I can send the reputed best of this series (Jayber Crow) after I finish getting through it myself. He is a perceptive thinker and a beautiful writer whose insights I have appreciated concerning rural America. You may even be able to incorporate some of his essays into your US History course.
Whatever you decide, I hope you have many hours of happy reading in the coming year.