When I stayed at an ashram in India, we woke up at 5:30 every morning to sit cross-legged on the floor of a large room for meditation and mantra chanting. And every morning during the Jaya Ganesha chant, the ashram leaders passed out instruments — bells and finger cymbals and wooden blocks — at random.
Every morning I wanted the tambourine. I hungered for it. I wanted it so badly, it became the only thing I’ve ever wanted, and that in itself became part of my meditation. Even though I was chanting as the leaders wandered the temple space, my eyes signaled my wanting. I had to have that tambourine.
FINALLY, on one of my last days, somebody handed it to me. It was like getting a shot of serotonin. My heart exploded with such joy, I played the shit out of that tambourine. I shook it and clapped it and wiggled it, coaxing what I thought was beautiful music from it, so happy to finally let my tambourine light shine.
Then someone from the ashram took it back. HE TOOK IT BACK. He ripped the instrument right out of my hands and shot me a dirty look. I guess I let my tambourine light shine a little too much.
I keep thinking back on that moment now, as I’m living in a vast, strange, empty space waiting for early reviews of my book. It’s an unpleasant limbo state, hoping for the best, bracing myself for the worst. I’m as excited as I am anxious. And I’m not a patient person anyway, so just the waiting part sucks too. I desire so much.
Realistically, I know my book won’t be for everyone. I know I can be too much. Not everyone wants to hear my tambourine.
Remember those cologne machines in truck stop bathrooms where you could buy cheap imitations of the real thing? “If you like Obsession, you’ll love Desperate Measures.” “If you love Chanel No. 5, might as well try Channel 42.” “Love Polo Sport? Welp, here’s Fantasy Football.”
This post is like that, but in a good way. And when it’s over, you won’t smell like a quarter’s worth of sadness.
Here’s how it works: I’ve mashed together my favorite books that I read in 2019 (though not necessarily published this year) and my favorite 2019 songs. Each tune has some kind of tenuous connection with the book I paired it with, so if you like a book on this list, you’ll probably like the song too. And vice versa. So if you like Carmen Maria Machado, you’ll love Mallrat! Maybe.
A graphic novel-style memoir about American identity, race, sex, relationships, and raising a brown child in the Trump era, all told in conversations. Jacob goes to uncomfortable places and tackles the things we should be talking about but aren’t.
A darkly funny novel about a young, beautiful Nigerian woman who can’t stop murdering her boyfriends and the exasperated but reliable sister who bails her out of trouble. Until the serial killer falls for the sister’s crush …
A fractured family on a road trip out west, set against the backdrop of an immigration crisis as children crossing the southern U.S. border are detained or dying in the desert. This novel was so stunning and gutting, I think I highlighted something on every page.
Mashed with: Texas Sun • Khruangbin & Leon Bridges
A romance in which America’s First Son falls in love with the Prince of Wales. I was clawing my way through a particularly low point when a friend recommended this book. Turned out a fun, flirty, escapist read was exactly what I needed.
A queer coming-of-age memoir in essays that instantly became one of my all-time favorite books. As soon as I finished, I went right back to the beginning and read it a second time to figure out how she did it.
I listened to Heavy, which is read by the author, and then I bought a print copy to hold in my hands and see the words on the page. This memoir is about the emotional and physical burden of growing up black in America, examining the secrets Laymon spent a lifetime avoiding.
Greene’s two-year-old daughter was sitting on a park bench in Manhattan when a brick fell from a nearby windowsill and killed her. This memoir opens with that incident and follows Greene and his wife through their journey of grief. I don’t know how he managed to craft such a wonder out of true horror, but I’m grateful he did.
In this memoir, Machado explores an abusive same-sex relationship through dozens of different lenses, like horror tropes, fairytales, and a devastating Choose-Your-Own-Adventure sequence. This book blew my figurative house down.
Hi. I’m the one person who never read Octavia Butler before this year, and I don’t know what took me so long. This historical fiction/fantasy novel about an African-American woman in 1976 California who travels through time to antebellum Maryland is considered to be the first science fiction written by a black woman, and it’s a true classic.
Mashed with: Turn the Light • Karen O & Danger Mouse
A slim novel about a woman who has no friends, no boyfriend, and no real life outside of the soothing structure of the convenience store where she has spent her entire career.
Ross Gay has written micro-essays about moments of delight. Some of them are guilty pleasures, some are natural joys, but most show how we are always just a few inches away from sorrow – and it can be a radical act to feel joy and gratitude in a sad world.
Speaking of guilty pleasures, I think I like Harry Styles now? And I definitely find joy in watermelon, my favorite food. So this song here is my Tune of Delights.
Finally a mindfulness book that doesn’t feel like it was written by a blissful, solitary monk on a mountaintop. This is real talk and real meditation exercises for the real (fucked-up) world.
I Feel Emotion • Operators
Of course I have more favorites that didn’t make it into this smashup. For the books I read this year, peep my Goodreads and to see other 2019 songs I loved, here’s my playlist.
NOTE: There are affiliate links in this post. So if you click through and buy something, it doesn’t change anything on your end; it just means Amazon gives me a few pennies, which I use to help pay for this site because I am happy to take their money.
Whoa, time really slipped away from me at the end of the year.
After I wrote my mashup of favorite books/fave music, I intended to whip up a quick post with some of my other favorite songs from 2018. (Basically everything that couldn’t fit in the original post). And I just didn’t do it.
Anyway, I’m here now. I have a mug of matcha, the dog is snoring at my feet, and my precious child who should be napping is hosting a demolition derby in his room. Or maybe that’s just what it sounds like. The point is, this is as peaceful as it gets around here. Let’s do this.
Cayucas • Jessica WJ
I love anything that sounds even vaguely reminiscent of the Beach Boys (see: The Drums), which is why I love Cayucas. Their sound is beachy, summery, and nostalgic, like I should be sunning myself on a beach and fondly remembering a furtive kiss at my high school reunion.
Rainbow Kitten Surprise • Fever Pitch
I can’t get enough of Rainbow Kitten Surprise, mostly because I can’t wrap my mind around their sound. It’s soulful and folksy, like Appalachian hip hop. Is that a thing? Please let it be a thing. Listen for yourself and you’ll see why.
Miley Cyrus • Nothing Breaks Like a Heart
I think I only like this because it sounds Dolly-esque.
Robyn • Honey
I have been desperate for a new Robyn album, and Honey was everything I wanted. The title song is particularly complex and hypnotic, sex and heartbreak wrapped in an infectious pop package. It’s like dancing while crying.
Toro y Moi • Freelance
Even though I’m a longtime Toro y Moi fan, this shouldn’t be a song I like, since it features almost everything I actively dislike: AutoTune, an overdone retro beat, restrained, monotone vocals. But it works. Plus it speaks to me as a freelancer (“Nothing’s ever worse than work unnoticed …”) and has a good chance of becoming my anthem for the next few months.
Little Dragon • Lover Chanting
There’s not much substance here, but I’m such a sucker for giddy, saccharine electro-pop. Also the video couldn’t be more fun.
Father John Misty • Mr. Tillman
Is it even possible for me to make a best-of list without Father John Misty? Thankfully we’ll never have to find out.
What I especially like about this song is that it falls into one of my favorite micro-genres: The jaded songwriter who is burned out on the industry.
What were some of your favorites last year? What did I miss?
This might be my favorite thing I do all year long: It’s a great, big mashup of the best books I enjoyed reading in 2018 (though not necessarily published this year), along with my favorite songs released this year. So if you like a song, you’ll probably like the book I’ve paired it with — and vice versa.
I always like making annual lists of my top books and favorite music as a way to reflect on what I’ve consumed and enjoyed during the year. But last year I smooshed the two lists together, and it changed the whole game. (You can see that here.)
I liked it enough to do it again. So here we go! You’re welcome.
A harrowing novel told through intersecting stories of urban Native Americans in Oakland, There There delves into the kind of trauma that endures through generations. I paired it with Arrows, a song of grief and many facets of heartache.
Circe is a lesser god-turned-island witch who sleeps with inappropriate men, tames wild beasts, and makes questionable decisions for love — similar to the narrator in this Bishop Briggs song, who sings, “My baby’s got a fucked up head, doesn’t matter ’cause he’s so damn good in bed … yeah, he’s fucking crazy, but he’s still my baby.”
Alan Lightman wrote some of my all-time favorite fiction, so I was already predisposed to enjoy this work of nonfiction, a lyrical meditation that explores the tension between our yearning for permanence and certainty. I’ve paired it with a song about getting older, significant life changes, and a literal birth.
I’m sure I don’t have to tell you why Michelle Obama’s bestselling autobiography is worth reading. Here I’ve paired it with this Michl song for the line, “This house feels better with you.”
As in White House. I want her back in the White House. That house feels better with her.
I’ve raved about They Can’t Kill Us Until They Kill Us to just about everyone, and I don’t think I ever do this book justice. Abdurraqib is a poet, so the prose is lyrical and precise, and his insightful essays blend pop culture and social justice, covering everything from a Carly Rae Jepsen concert to the shooting of Michael Brown, and everything in between. Each piece was a genuine surprise, and I never knew if I would end up crying or laughing.
I paired Abdurraqib’s collection with this pop confection, because it seems like the kind of thing he might write about someday. Also I’ve liked Cardi B ever since I read about her illegal butt filler injections, back when she was a stripper, because that’s the kind of dedication to craft that I admire.
Less, which won the Pulitzer Prize for fiction this year, is the story of an aging, failed novelist who receives an invitation to the wedding of his ex-boyfriend. Rather than confront his feelings, the novelist travels around the world and occupies his time in other ways, occasionally with other men.
Tieduprightnow is a perfect match, especially the chorus: “The one I need is tied up right now/So let’s just wait a while/The one I need is tied up right now/So let’s not draw the line …”
A summer romance blossoms between a 17-year-old boy and an older scholar staying at his house. It’s a powerful story about intimacy, undeniable attraction, and what happens when passion is indulged. Plus a peach.
This pairs nicely with Back to You, a song of desire from the perspective of someone willing to make the same choices all over again: “I want to hold you when I’m not supposed to/when I’m lying close to someone else/You’re stuck in my head and I can’t get you out of it/If I could do it all again, I know I’d go back to you.”
I’m Panio’s biggest fan, so I’ll read anything he writes. Truly. I once read an article he wrote about paying off student loans, even though my personal longterm repayment plan involves faking my own death, so that should tell you something. OF COURSE his achingly beautiful little package of stories ranks at the top of my list.
I paired it with Gang of Youth’s The Heart is a Muscle, because strengthening the heart feels like a good compliment to a book that examines many forms of love: relationships that exist within family, domestic chaos, fumbling for connection, a ridiculous Pomeranian.
But I just read through the lyrics again and realized this might be a Jesus song. Damn it.
This is an exquisite story about migrants and immigration in which people travel to new countries via literal doors that act as portals, but at the heart of it is the love story of refugees Nadia and Saeed.
I’ve paired it with a sweet pop song about memory and the things we cling to as reminders of love.
Touch is a sharp, insightful novel that skewers high-tech, modern consumer culture, and it was one of my best reading experiences of the year. Not only did it make me laugh, but I thought about the characters for a long time after I finished the book. I’m pairing it with Everybody Wants to Be Famous, because that’s an obvious match for a satire about a culture based on likes.
Citizen contains some of the most urgent, important writing I’ve ever read, and it dovetails so perfectly with this Childish Gambino song (and video) that looks at what it means to be a person of color in America.
It might seem weird to pair a song with a book about finding space for silence in a busy an chaotic world. And it is weird, which is exactly why I placed it with a quiet, slow burn of a song called Nevermind.
Woman World isabout a world without men, and I read it just after the Kavanaugh hearings, which made this charming comic even more of a delight. In Woman World, women rebuild society but better (the new flag is simply a picture of Beyoncé’s thighs) and study relics of the former world, like “Paul Blart: Mall Cop.”
Woman World started as an Instagram comic, so the graphic novel version doesn’t have a strong storyline to pull the reader through the book. But the panels are so cute and funny, it makes for a quick, entertaining read anyway. I paired it with the great bisexual anthem of 2018, although any Janelle Monáe song would work.
My experience of reading Ohio involved a lot of googling. First because the fictional town in this novel felt so real, I swore I had been there. And the characters — I knew them all.
Then I googled because I developed a deep, profound writer crush on author Stephen Markley. Every time I read a passage that I swore was the best thing I’ve ever read, it was followed by another greatest thing I’ve ever read.
Ohio is the story of four former classmates who converge one night in their hometown, a small rust belt town that has been gutted by the recession, opioids, and the loss of industry. It’s melancholy and perceptive, examining the Midwest through the compassionate lens of someone who’s been there.
I paired the book with this Lord Huron song about mistakes and second chances, which would resonate with any of the imperfect, disillusioned characters at the heart of this story. Also because “If I can’t change the weather, maybe I can change your mind” destroys me. Just like Markley’s writing.
I actually just started this book, so I can’t say yet that it’s one of my favorite reads of the year — mostly I just wanted an excuse to post this Kurt Vile song, which sounds like the desert to me.
“Some are weird as hell, but we love ’em/ Some are one trick ponies but we embrace ’em.”
I’ll have another post soon with a few more favorite tunes from 2018; I just couldn’t make them work with any books. In the meantime, what did I miss? Tell me about the books and songs you loved this year.
These are anxious times for free media. We have a president who systematically and deliberately delegitimizes the press, fears the truth, and views the First Amendment as a threat. At the same time, many newsrooms are lean and have limited resources.
There is hope, though. Thanks to social media, the Internet, and the proliferation of media outlets, there is an opportunity for anyone to become a citizen journalist – engaging, informing, and educating others.
Like it or not, we are the truth-tellers now. And this is how to do it.
Work a beat
It’s too easy to become overwhelmed by outrage fatigue. Instead, find one or two issues that you are passionate about, whether it’s gun violence, climate change, immigration, healthcare, LGBTQ equality, religious freedom, etc. Research those issues, and channel your energy in that direction. Become your own expert.
Be persistent
This is particularly important when confronting members of Congress who don’t value the voices of their constituents. When the voicemail is full, fax them. When the email goes unanswered, go to their office and knock on the door. Remember: When someone is evasive, that means you’re on the right track.
Greet the news with skepticism
Don’t be an impulse buyer of news. Read beyond the headlines. Find primary sources. Question numbers. Read transcripts in their entirety.
Be accurate with the news you spread
Confirm numbers. Look up facts. Make sure quotes are in context. Spreading falsehoods ruins your credibility, and other people will no longer take you seriously.
Demand answers
If you’re talking to an elected official, assert your power. They work for you. If you receive a response that isn’t adequate, call them on it. Ask what they’re going to do about the problem, how will they accomplish this, and when you can expect results.
Be clear
Communicate your message in a clear, concise way. We’re often talking about complex issues with a lot of nuance – we must cut through the noise to help people understand what is important and how it affects them.
Listen
A lot of people don’t post their politics on Facebook, tweet their issues, or write letters to the editor. They make their voices heard at the ballot box. It’s imperative we listen to their concerns now so we know how to best address them. We don’t want a surprise in 2018.
Ask questions
Find out why your friend, neighbor, or relative voted the way they did. Ask what they are looking for and what they hope to achieve. Why do they feel what they feel? Give up trying to find common ground; just find their ground.
Amplify the voices that aren’t being heard
The people who are loudest have an agenda, and their voices are already well represented. Find those who aren’t being heard and lift them up.
Look for new entry points into the conversation
I love novels because fiction allows us to address important issues at an angle. Fictional characters offer a distance we don’t get with the news, and it opens up valuable entry points for conversation. Find books, movies, TV shows that allow you to have difficult talks with other people.
Use the tools of storytelling
Legislation isn’t just a dusty document in some Congressperson’s office. These decisions affect real people, real families, maybe even you. Find the human story, as well as the significance and meaning of the story, and make the connection that policy is personal. Form a compelling narrative. Explain why this story matters.
