Books That Changed My Mind in 2022
Seven books that left a permanent impression.
Happy New Year, friends! In defiance of Larry David and that episode of Curb, I’m going to continue using that as my greeting for many days and possibly weeks to come, especially when writing emails, because it’s a much more fun opener than “I hope this finds you well.”
When you work in book publishing, people are constantly asking you what you’ve been reading and loving lately. A reasonable question, to be sure. But I can’t tell you how many times I got that question while having lunch with an agent and just … drew a complete blank. My theory is that the more you read, the harder it is to remember what you’ve recently read, because reading is your daily and necessary hobby, and things tend to blur together. To combat this, when I left Random House in 2018, I started a spreadsheet to keep track of what I’ve read. It’s very basic, but it does the trick, and I’m so grateful to Anna-of-2018 for starting it. The spreadsheet is far more reliable and legible than my memory. Now, when asked for book recommendations: voila!
It’s also a nice way of marking time, and marking mini-chapters in one’s life. You can look back on your reading list and start to see the patterns. Sometimes the books on your list have seem to have nothing in common except for what you got out of them—but what you got out of them is the main thing that matters. I love looking back on what I read in 2022. It fills me with a warm glow of gratitude. It’s funny, because I hadn’t been thinking of 2022 as a particular good year, in terms of my reading intake. Not a bad year, either. Just kind of a medium year. But when I look back from this perspective, from the start of 2023, I’m struck by how many books left a permanent, soul-shifting impression on me. Often I feel lucky to find one or two of those books per year. And 2022 gave me several of them.
Now, these aren’t necessarily my favorite books of the year. Not on this list are some of the books that I absolutely inhaled, the books that gave me enormous pleasure (looking at you, The Palace Papers and The Pursuit of Love). Those books can indeed leave a long-lasting impression. Just because a book is totally pleasurable doesn’t mean it doesn’t alter the way I see the world (or the way I understand the dynamics of the royal family, lol). But what I’m talking about here are the books that altered the way I see myself in the world. The way I understand my own role, my own desires, my own journey.
Without further ado, here they are!
The Red Book by Carl Jung. Just a little light reading to kick us off! I received this book (the illustrated version) for Christmas last year and started it at the beginning of 2022. It’s a massive, exquisite, awe-inspiring tome. I would start each day by reading a few pages of The Red Book, as part of my quiet morning coffee ritual. It took me many months to get through it, and it was entirely worth it. I adore Jung. I’ve learned so much from reading him. (His book Memories, Dreams, Reflections is one of my all-timers.) It’s hard to summarize what this book is, except to say that I felt a deep sense of communion while reading it. It’s a story about being alive, and about moving through a world where suffering and struggle and beauty and freedom are all bound together. I would say that this book is probably not an entry point if you’ve never read Jung before. But if you’re already invested in his ideas, and you are Red Book-curious, know that reading this book is an exercise in endurance at times, but absolutely worth it. You get out of this book what you put into it. Time and patience is part of that!
Nobody Wants to Read Your Shit by Steven Pressfield. I first became familiar with Pressfield after listening to his 2021 podcast interview with Tim Ferris. If you’re a writer, and you sometimes struggle with feelings of uncertainty (is this worthwhile?) or self-pity (no one understands me!) or fear (what am I doing with my life?!)—and really, what writer doesn’t have those feelings from time to time—this is a book with a lot of bracing, clear-eyed, empowering guidance. It has a very specific tone, and probably it isn’t for everyone! But for me, even the title alone, and the idea that just because my writing exists does not mean it’s entitled to any kind of reaction or reception from the world … that alone was worth the price of admission.
Bittersweet by Susan Cain. Oh, this book! I felt so seen and loved and held by this book. She describes the bittersweet personality type, and I definitely fit the bill. I have a strong streak of sentimentality and melancholy, and Bittersweet showed me that there is nothing wrong with that. This book erases and rejects the binaries (happy/sad, whole/broken) that we often live by. It’s such a gentle, thoughtful book, and it beautifully articulates the ache that comes with being alive in this world: how joy can go so deep that it actually hurts, how sadness can be so heart-breaking that it actually liberates.
The Power and the Glory by Graham Greene. I love, love, LOVE Graham Greene. Earlier this year a friend recommended The Power and the Glory to me, and while it’s hard for me to pick a favorite Greene, this is right up there. Reading Greene always reminds me of what fiction can do, how a story can be immensely suspenseful and entertaining while also engaging with the deepest questions of faith and morality. Who says a thriller can’t also be a meditation on Catholic guilt? Not this guy. The whiskey priest will live in my imagination forever.
The Summer Friend by Chip McGrath. You know what’s great about reading? Two people can read the same book, and they can get totally different things out of them, and each reaction is entirely valid. My parents both read this book this past year, and I think they each took something different from it than I did. For me, it was like The Summer Friend existed just to deliver me one specific line, one specific image, one specific idea. It’s the very end of the book that sticks with me, when McGrath invokes the Dylan Thomas poem, The force that through the green fuse drives the flower. He uses that poem as a lens on the story he’s just told, but the poem also leapt up off the page and inserted itself into my life, delivering to me a new way of thinking about the seasons, about the tenacious, messy, dynamic nature of life, precisely when I needed it.
The Perfectionist’s Guide to Losing Control by Katherine Schafler. Proud friend moment! I am lucky enough to know Katherine, and was lucky enough to read a galley last year. This book is coming out in a few weeks, and if you are a woman who has been led to believe that there is something wrong with your drive and desire, you should preorder it NOW. Rather like Susan Cain in Bittersweet, Katherine has reframed perfectionism, removing the stigma from that concept, removing the notion that perfectionism is inherently “a problem.” There is nothing wrong with striving for perfection, just as there’s nothing wrong with sadness. Examining and working with (rather than suppressing or outright rejecting) one’s own perfectionist impulses can, in fact, be a great gateway to self-understanding and growth. There’s so much grounded, approachable, actionable wisdom in here. I wound up underlining sentences on almost every page.
The Swerve by Stephen Greenblatt. Last but not least. I decided to pick up this book on a whim, when we were down in Philadelphia for Thanksgiving. I was in the living room, looking at my father-in-law’s bookshelves, and the title caught my eye. I remembered the National Book Awards from over a decade ago, when this book won, but I honestly hadn’t thought about it since then. Why did it speak to me, in that moment? Why did I feel compelled to walk across the room pick it up? But this is part of why a book exists as a physical object: to insert itself in a person’s path. To increase the odds of serendipity. To encourage the transmission of ideas across time and space. If you’ve read The Swerve, you know that this why-ness is exactly what the book is about. This was like intellectual brain candy. I LOVED it. It reminded me of why writing matters.
I suppose that the above could comprise this week’s letter of recommendation. But I won’t do you dirty like that! To balance out all this highbrow think-y stuff, let me offer a ringing endorsement for Avatar 2. Yes, it’s a bazillion hours long. Yes, you will inevitably miss part of the movie when you have to go to the restroom because no one can hold it for that long. We saw it the day after Christmas, and it was so much FUN. It was immersive and beautiful and when it was over, I immediately felt the desire to go watch it again. The seamless quality of CGI + 3D made it feel less like watching a movie and more like participating in a reality, like existing inside a world. Just do it. Go to the movies, get the biggest popcorn and Diet Coke you can muster, and treat yourself!