Storysmith Books of the Year 2024

“I haven’t quite read anything like Alphabetical Diaries, Sheila Heti’s transformative experiment on autobiographical writing. These are quite literally ‘alphabetical diaries’: each chapter is titled from ‘A-Z’ (excluding ‘X’), with Heti’s thoughts, ruminations and ramblings listed out in alphabetical order. Scribbled worries about rent payments and bad boyfriends, as well as deeper meditations on the art of writing, fuse together to create a masterful exploration of the inner mind.

The creative process is just as fascinating as the content itself: Heti organised ten years’ worth of journals into alphabetical order, before trimming it down to 60,000 words. Through her editorial work, what was initially the everyday, the anodyne, becomes the curious, the playful, the accidentally profound.”

Chosen by Tasha

“Is it as easy as ABC? In Alphabetical diaries Shelia Heti teaches us the alphabet in a wholly new way: she arranges more than 10 years of her journal entries alphabetically, A-Z by sentence starter. Arranging her life through the arbitrary order of the Alphabet, Heti circumvents the usual structures of chronology or plot; timelines are confused and events are jumbled. Yet, despite this supposed lack of plot structure, patterns still emerge, names reappear, and storylines resurface. As past, present, and future are mixed together, this new alphabetical structure brilliantly compresses the mundane with the extraordinary, the funny with the heartbreaking.

As a reader, you’re forced to slow down, to appreciate each sentence for its subtle wisdom, its dry humour, or its hypocrisy. As we read, a life emerges around us – a life not defined by its chronology but by its obsessions, its calamities, and its beautiful absurdities.”

Chosen by Holly

“This is one of very few books that I’ve been inspired to read twice in quick succession! Eva Baltasar’s third novel in her loose trilogy is part twisted pastoral novel, and part feminist fable. Her protagonist, exhausted by life and work in the city withdraws herself further and further from human company, and sets up a new life in rural farmland. She is desperate for a child, but she has an equally almost animalistic desire for solitude, and a simple life where she can be reliant solely on herself. There’s an appealing sense of freedom in the simple, slow pace of life and the hunter-gatherer instinct to chop wood, bake bread and stockpile the cupboards, but Baltasar constantly reminds us that this is a life that cannot be sustained.”

Chosen by Emily

“Following her emotional tempestuous novellas, Permafrost and Boulder, the final part of Eva Balstasar’s triptych, Mammoth, is an equally uncompromising and brutal book. Tale-ending the trilogy, Mammoth is a gut-wrenching exploration of the female experience, of the pull to motherhood and a longing for freedom. Driven by a desire to create, the narrator becomes obsessed with getting pregnant, in experiencing the physical sensations of birth. Chasing this desire, she leaves the confines of the city for the wild Spanish countryside. But, far from a fairytale idyll, this is a world of brutality and riotous unpredictability. Entering a life of isolation and drudgery, our narrator reduces her life to the bare essentials, collecting firewood, nursing lambs, and trying to bake her own bread. In Eva Balstasar’s exact and poetic style, this short yet explosive book ultimately asks what it means to create (a novel, a child, a home?) in a world of loneliness and cruelty.”

Chosen by Holly

“This tiny, haunting novella takes place on the banks of a river in rural Argentina. The dream-like story of three men on a fishing trip ripples with dread and danger. Almada’s imagery is so effecting, and her portrayal of masculinity is incredibly nuanced; there’s violence under the surface throughout, but we also see tenderness and a grappling with traumatic memories.  

Annie McDermott’s translation is a real work of art; in her translation note which follows the novel, she outlines the challenges of creating the brusque, swaggering, working class male voice that is so crucial to the narrative. It’s a really fascinating insight into the translation process, and gives a great context to the novel and the setting around it. 

This book has had so much great press this year after its appearance on the International Booker shortlist, and I’m very happy to add my voice to the chorus of praise for Selva Almada. Not a River is a read-in-a-day novel that will linger in your mind for a long time afterwards.” 

Chosen by Emily

“Selva Almada’s previous two translated novels – The Wind That Lays Waste and Brickmakers – are powerhouses of efficiency, one ambient and vibey, the other brutally and physically visceral. Putting it perhaps too simply, Not A River plants a flag equidistantly between these to extremes, and conjures an atmosphere so menacingly unpleasant and masculine that you’d think it would be impossible to balance it with a heartbreaking narrative about missing links across the generations, and the marks these gaps can leave on a family.

There are endless tricks and intentional wrongfooting gestures in this slim and devastating novel, to the point where you might think you’re the one stuck in the forest having somehow transgressed the unspoken local customs and are in mortal danger. Immersive, intoxicating and ingenious.”

Chosen by Dan

“Perhaps the absolute peak of the “no plot, just vibes” genre. For some people that’s a turn off, but if you’re the kind of person who likes an all-vibe book then all this here, now is your holy grail. Composed mostly of non-chronological vignettes, each a memory in its most raw sense: tastes, smells, strange details that the mind clings to. Sounds vertigo inducing, but it’s not. More like a painting where you see each one small piece at a time, and when you stand back the whole picture reveals itself into a nuanced portrayal of friendship and grief, via the medium of a bonkers memorial road trip coming-of-age “novel”. It’s kind of a miracle this book hangs together the way it does, which I can only assume is because Anna Stern and Damion Searls are simply geniuses. FFO cathartic sadness, poetic novels, experimental formatting.”

Chosen by Callum

“Alejandro, he never misses! It will surprise no one who knows me that this is on my BOTY this year – and not just because Zambra is such the G.O.A.T. But also because I just find myself recommending it so damn much .

Childish Literature is a compound work of stories, essays and other works which are not quite one or the other, all united by the subject of childhood and fatherhood, being a parent and being a son. Much like his other books, they sneak in a bucket load of wisdom and literaryness without any pretentiousness, partly because of the distinctly silly and self-deprecating humour. A few of these essays begin with Larry David-esque hijinks: a web of fibs that get out of hand, an unexpected mushroom trip. That’s how he gets you.”

Chosen by Callum

“First published in 1929 and yet breathtakingly modern in its depiction of womanhood, Ex-Wife follows Patricia, a glamorous advertising executive living in the heart of New York City. When her husband files for divorce, Patricia is plunged into the chaos of life as an ‘ex-wife’, a status which, for the fellow separated women in her metropolitan milieu, is emblematic of a newly-found (and newly-complicated) sexual identity.

There’s much to enjoy about Parrott’s sophisticated prose: her whip-smart, acidic observations on the dating circles Patricia inhabits are reminiscent of a Nora Ephron screenplay, while she also finds a great sensitivity when, in moments of quiet, Patricia ruminates on past traumas and losses. Backdropped by bustling skyscrapers and smoky jazz bars, Ex-Wife is a truly compelling read.”

Chosen by Tasha

“Headshot: the word has been upon my lips all damn year. You might be tired of me talking about how good it is, but it’s simply my personal reigning BOTY for 2024 and my most recommended book for lo these past many months. We were thrilled to feature it on our Subscription for Curious Readers, as well as to host Rita back at the shop over the summer – and so excited to see her on the longlist for the Booker Prize (even if she was ROBBED of a shortlisting, and, dare I say, the prize overall??)

Much like all the best “novels about a sport”, Headshot is simultaneously all about boxing and also not about boxing at all. You need no former knowledge or even interest in the sport to enjoy, because the world of the novel is so fully realised. On a plot level, we follow seven head-to-head boxing matches at The Daughters of America Cup in Reno, Nevada, with the novel’s chapters structured by the tournament brackets: starting with eight teen girl boxers and whittling them down knockout-style to a final champion over the course of two days.

But what makes this book a truly transcendent work of fiction is the authorial voice, which hovers over the eight girls in a detached third person, diving into their pasts, their present, their eventual fate, their ticks, their fighting styles, the way they carry themselves, their rich and fraught internal worlds. Through the frame of the boxing match, each girl is thrown into relief against the other leaving their psychologies thoroughly plumbed. In retrospect, the setting is a work of genius. In their mid-to-late teens these girls are at a defining moment in their personalities, and throwing them head-to-head in a high pressure boxing match just adds fuel to that emotional fire.

Special mention goes to Belly Up, Rita’s short story collection which was published a few years back in the U.S. but just made it to the U.K. this year via Daunt Books. Honestly, it’s spiritually on my BOTY list but I want to play it cool – you know?”

Chosen by Callum

“This is a zombie novel like no other. The narrator, a member of the undead, wanders through her new reality. Recounting the details of this life-after-life, she composes a literary narrative as she herself physically decomposes, literally, losing her arm within the first 20 pages. It’s this tension between composition and decomposition that helps hold this strange and spare novel together. It Lasts Forever, Then it’s Over asks the question of what makes us, even as we are being unmade.” 

Chosen by Holly

“This was such a delicious confection of a book, geared towards reading pleasure in all its facets: lyrical playfulness, salty bickering, and seemingly endless bottles of rum. First published in 1966 and harking back to those quaint ‘debunking spiritualism’ novels that came before it (I recommend HG Wells’ Love & Mr Lewisham as a companion read) but pairing the farce with a beautifully acerbic cast of characters, we are coming of age with anxious 17-year-old Oliver, who lives with his Aunt Harry and the lady of the house, Etta. But discussion (or rather lack of discussion) of Oliver’s sexuality, and the (literal?) spectre of Etta’s tragically deceased son Sargent come to dominate proceedings. A warlock named Maurice LeFleur arrives, reckless romantic advances are made, you will come to love a peacock, and it’s a comedy until, ultimately, it very much isn’t. A beautifully reissued curio ripe for discovery, and one of the most purely satisfying books I read this year.”

Chosen by Dan

“Dutton transcends literary boundaries in this experimental collection of short stories, essays and musings that, while concerning themselves with the titular subjects, also urge the reader to reconsider the capabilities of their imagination.

It would be too easy for me to just slap ‘existentialist’ on this book, and do it a great disservice; I think Prairie, Dresses, Art, Other offers a new landscape of thought when considering the individual and their placement in the world. Whilst the short stories in ‘Prairie’ create a sense of unease, Dutton doesn’t want us to shy away from these feelings, but to instead cultivate them. I’m reminded of John Berger’s Ways of Seeing, in which the simple act of ‘seeing’ transforms into a conscious act – Dutton speaks similarly in ‘Art’, in which she explores the dialogue between our emotional and literary responses to visual images.

As someone who loves reading about the nuts and bolts of creative processes, I really enjoyed this book. You get the sense Dutton is asking these questions, not just for our consideration, but also her own. She examines her dual positions as spectator and creator, and I think it’s great how she throws everything at this book: flicking through the pages, you’ll find some haunting short stories set in the Midwestern plains, a curation of literary dresses, an introspective study of ekphrasis, and an eclectic mix of moving and bizarre creative pieces.

Chosen by Tasha

A novel about illness, set almost entirely in a hospital is a hard thing to pull off, but in Garth Greenwell’s hands this becomes such an artful and beautiful thing. The narrator of Small Rain is a poet and academic who is admitted into hospital following a terrible and inexplicable pain. His condition is quickly understood to be very serious, and very rare, and he is led through the sterile hospital system in a seemingly endless trial of tests and procedures. 

This was my first introduction to Garth Greenwell, and I loved the musicality of his prose. There’s a real urgency to his writing, too, he points to the immediacy of these moments that make you think about your whole life, and the precariousness of our happiness.”

Chosen by Emily

“You’ve got to hand it to her: she’s gone and bloody done it again. Already being a huge fan of Flights and Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead means I read the Empusium with a big dollop of expectation. This better be good, I said to myself. Go on, impress me! You’ve won the Nobel Prize after all.

But by Jebus, if this wasn’t one of the most exquisitely constructed novels I’ve read all year. Somehow a wild ride of a reading experience despite taking place almost entirely within the confines of a health resort for gentlemen with tuberculosis where, by rights, nothing should really be going on. Yet, this is undeniably Olga at the height of her powers. So much to talk about and I have lots of Big Takes on it, but there’s lots of spoiler territory so just dive in. Genuinely hilarious, extremely moving, and a healthy spoonful of quite disturbing.”

Chosen by Callum

“This book spoke to me on so many levels. Zambreno writes about art that is created in the spaces between caring for others, and art that is about care itself. She blends her own experiences of raising children whilst working during the Covid lockdowns with studies of other artists or writers who have had periods of caring for others. 

I love her intelligent musings on the act of caring for children, of playfulness and nurturing, and the accumulation of ‘stuff’ around this. How collections of toys and childhood objects can be both beautiful and horrifying, and how the act of parental care can be a creative act in itself. Zambreno’s descriptions are poignant and beautiful. She writes about the changing of the seasons, the tiny moments of overwhelming joy, and the profound exhaustion of this very specific moment in time (I felt such a surge of recognition when she described fitting a too-tight sock onto a child’s foot). I came away from this book with another entire list of authors and artists to research; a truly nourishing book for the brain and the heart.”

Chosen by Emily

“One of the most astoundingly original novels I’ve read. Sulaiman’s protagonist Hannah is vividly drawn in continuous prose, simultaneously weaving the immediacy of her desires and sexual exploits in London, with her perilous life in Eritrea, her refugee journey and her experience of foster care. Combining generational effects of colonial trauma with illuminating poetic prose, every sentence feels alive in an incredibly freeing way. Sulaiman plays with form and intertwines history, poetry and desire in a London that feels hopelessly broken, but that glimmers with peoples’ stories.”

Chosen by Emily

“Though each set in a domestic familiar context, this collection of short stories is a menagerie of the bizarre, the fairy-tale, and the entirely unique. Each story feels like a masterclass in the art of imagining: Levrero takes us on a wonderland-like journey through haunted houses full of tiny men, huge earthworms that crawl out of bidets, and jelly that hides in the attic. But merging with this labyrinthine weirdness is the pettiness of the everyday, quotidian details, and grumblings about draughts and dripping taps. In one deft movement, these stories carry us from the mundane to the magical, the plausible to the infinitely possible.”

Chosen by Holly

“I’ve been describing Two Dozen Eggs as a ‘warm hug of a book’: the kind of book that puts one in mind of a cup of tea and a gingernut. Hopping between Dublin, Bordeaux, Rome, and County Down, these short stories each give a charming snapshot of a life, each told through the minutiae of food. Though often under 5 pages, each story brims with everyday detail and character, offering glimpses of dinner tables and mealtimes. From the nostalgia of a boiled egg, the romance of tuna conserve, or a work break shared over Ttoro fish stew, every story collects around food and the shared consolation it brings. Food, plentiful or scarce, simple or complex, eaten alone or together, is wholeheartedly celebrated here.”

Chosen by Holly

“I was completely besotted with Un Amor, a claustrophobic tale of existentialism and obsession. Having fled the city for reasons unclear, Nat arrives in the sleepy village of La Escapa and in possession of a crumbling house and flea-bitten dog. Despite her attempts to blend in, Nat’s presence within the village is profound, and when she develops an unusual relationship with a neighbour, she soon finds herself scrutinised by the local community.

Mesa’s portrayal of the rituals of love and obsession is brilliant; there’s an incessancy to Nat’s desire to be needed, a relinquishing of power as she traipses under the stiflingly-hot Spanish sun in search of validation. Through the lens of a woman picking away restlessly at her own being, Mesa questions whether the preoccupation of finding oneself achieves much else than an endless unravelling of the core, a gradual erosion of selfhood. A tense yet darkly funny book, I cannot wait to re-read it.”

Chosen by Tasha

“What is Mine is just simply a perfect book. It’s the kind of non-fiction that blurs boundaries between memoir and history and cultural enquiry, and jumps around between past, future, tying together its themes and subjects in unexpected ways. What threads What is Mine together is a series of interviews with Didi, José’s father, who worked as a truck driver in Brazil over a tumultuous half-century of dictatorship, but who, in a lot of ways, has very little to show for it and little to no inheritance for his children: no diaries, no photos, no money or estate to pass on. The best anecdotes include his UFO experience (it’s like they knew I was going to read it), how to cook roadkill on a ripping hot engine, and the other truckers he knew from a life on the road. But on a macro-scale we also witness Didi’s part in the construction of the trans-Amazonian highway, a supposedly country-unifying municipal project, with complicated colonial roots and devastating environmental consequences. What results is a nuanced and compassionate analysis of capitalism, colonialism, Brazilian history, illness, family and masculinity.”

Chosen by Callum

“As someone who is constantly moaning about the generic nature of books on popular music, 2024 has done a pretty magnificent job of shutting my terrible mouth up. Will Hodgkinson’s Street-Level Superstar and Jan Gradvall’s Melancholy Undercover were both very close to my overall top 5, but Where We Come From just edged it in my hallowed music book of the year subcategory, mostly because it’s the music book I’ve spent the most time thinking about since I read it. We were very lucky to host Aniefiok back in January to discuss the book, where he was illuminating and adamant on the importance of ‘sitting with’ his subjects rather than simply interviewing them. This more languorous approach endlessly deepens the book’s effectiveness in detailing the birth, growth and fruition of grime in the UK, fermenting these small, personal narratives so that in the retelling they feel appropriately epochal.”

Chosen by Dan